i

T H E H I S TO RY A N D T H E O RY
O F  I N T E R N AT I O N A L  L AW

System, Order, and International Law

ii

T H E H I S TO RY A N D T H E O RY
O F I N T E R N AT I O N A L  L AW
General Editors
N E H A L  B H U TA
Professor of Public International Law, European University Institute

A N T H O N Y  PA G D E N
Distinguished Professor, University of California Los Angeles

B E N J A M I N S T R AU M A N N
Alberico Gentili Senior Fellow, New York University School of Law

In the past few decades the understanding of the relationship between nations
has undergone a radical transformation. The role of the traditional nation-​state
is diminishing, along with many of the traditional vocabularies which were
once used to describe what has been called, ever since Jeremy Bentham coined
the phrase in 1780, ‘international law’. The older boundaries between states
are growing ever more fluid, and new conceptions and new languages have
emerged which are slowly coming to replace the image of a world of sovereign
independent nation-​states which has dominated the study of international rela-
tions since the early nineteenth century. This redefinition of the international
arena demands a new understanding of classical and contemporary questions
in international and legal theory. It is the editors’ conviction that the best way
to achieve this is by bridging the traditional divide between international legal
theory, intellectual history, and legal and political history. The aim of the series,
therefore, is to provide a forum for historical studies, from classical antiquity to
the twenty-​first century, that are theoretically-​informed and for philosophical
work that is historically conscious, in the hope that a new vision of the rapidly
evolving international world, its past, and its possible future, may emerge.

PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN THIS SERIES

The Law of Nations in Global History
C. H. Alexandrowicz
Edited by David Armitage and Jennifer Pitts
To Reform the World
International Organizations and the Making of Modern States
Guy Fiti Sinclair
International Law and Empire
Historical Explorations
Edited by Martti Koskenniemi, Walter Rech, and Manuel Jiménez Fonseca
Formalizing Displacement
International Law and Population Transfers
Umut Özsu
The Project of Positivism in International Law
Mónica García-​Salmones Rovira
 iii

System, Order,
and International Law
The Early History of International Legal
Thought from Machiavelli to Hegel

Edited by
S T E FA N K A D E L B A C H
THOMAS KLEINLEIN
and
D AV I D ROT H -​I S I G K E I T

1
iv

1
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contained in any third party website referenced in this work.
 v

In memory of Merio Scattola

vi
 vi

Series Editors’ Preface

Long before international law became an institutionalized academic discipline in

the nineteenth century, prominent thinkers engaged in debates about the reach of
legal norms. As the idea of sovereign statehood emerged in early modern Europe,
and as European empire-states competed with each other and with non-European
polities in their imperial endeavours, questions concerning moral and legal norms
capable of reaching beyond these emerging states became especially salient. Could
there be any role for specifically legal norms in creating order outside the state? And
if so, what were the sources of these norms, what their grounds of validity?
The present volume provides a broad perspective on these questions and on the
sophisticated answers that have been given to them over the centuries. It aims suc-
cessfully at walking the fine line between a potentially parochial contextualism on
the one hand and a too-exclusive attention to ideas, without consideration of the
historical problems that gave rise to the ideas in the first place, on the other. The
guiding concern that lends unity to this collection of essays is the place of interna-
tional law in the development of a secular international order.
The unconventional choice of Machiavelli and Hegel as starting and ending
points of the analysis presented here is as startling as it is illuminating. Machiavelli,
not usually discussed in the context of international legal thought, marks the begin-
ning of the analysis because he can be interpreted as the first thinker to have given
expression to an idea of international order, however rudimentary, after the inde-
pendence of the Italian communes from the Holy Roman Empire became a late
medieval reality. The French invasion of Italy in the late fifteenth century was one
of the key factors prompting early modern state formation and forced Machiavelli
to consider the viability of Italian city-states in this novel international structure.
His inclusion in a discussion of international political and legal thought helps con-
siderably in clarifying what it was that later international legal thinkers were trying
to achieve, what kind of order they sought to remake in light of their normative
systems.
Jean Bodin, another author who is not usually included in discussions of inter-
national legal thought, is a further example of the important insights that can be
gained once one is willing to cast a wider net and enlarge the canon of those writing
about international order. The idea of state sovereignty, as developed most influen-
tially by Bodin, created interesting problems concerning the legal rights and duties
of sovereigns, both inside and outside of the state. Other authors discussed in the
first part of the present collection who are not conventionally discussed as inter-
national legal thinkers include Althusius, Spinoza, Montesquieu, Rousseau, and
Hegel. Hegel marks the end of international law understood in its expansive pre-
positive sense as a philosophical and historical endeavour before the establishment
of a specialized academic curriculum. The volume therefore redirects our attention
vi

viii Series Editors’ Preface

to the fundamentals of international order by offering a broad understanding of

international legal thought not confined to the disciplinary borders of nineteenth
century positivism.
The subtle and original interpretations of these authors put forward here prove
how much sustained reflection on international law can gain from ideas that were
developed outside the narrow province of the canon of what is today commonly
accepted as constituting international legal theory. The volume gives us what the
editors call a ‘creative reading of history’, which, while attentive to the historical
problem situations within which these ideas took shape, does not insulate itself
from the texts analysed. As the editors emphasize, the volume pursues a ‘moderate
anachronism’ in search of a conception of legal order outside the state that makes
sense ‘beyond its contingent existence conditions’.
Moderate anachronism thus really turns out to be an ambitious programme that
allows us to put the historical material to the test and to evaluate it comparatively.
In its second, systematic part the volume draws on the insights gained from the
first, historical part. Some of the ideas treated in the first part are here considered in
a critical way that seeks to provide a sense of long-term orientation. In this second
part, causal historical explanations for the current state of international law and
international legal thinking are given, all the while attending to the reasoning con-
tained in the historical material. The second part builds on the first in showing how
our point of view was reached, but it goes beyond that and attempts to formulate
historically literate answers to some of the problems touched upon by the cast of
historical thinkers.
By adopting a deep, historical view, the authors of this collection provide an
antidote to an ahistorical worldview that is blind to its own limitations. By offer-
ing a long-term historical picture of international legal ideas and the problems they
were designed to answer, the approaches to the challenges of global order portrayed
in this book provide a refreshing and original sense of available alternatives. No
longer the slaves of some defunct political or legal theorists, international lawyers
and international legal thinkers are now in a position to make up their own minds.
Benjamin Straumann
New York City
December 2016
 ix

Avant-Propos

Like a pair of Herculean pillars, System and Order are presiding over the pre-
sent expedition into three centuries of nascent international legal thought. The
field that is being explored is the early history of a philosophical perspective of
international law, the Ideengeschichte of its genesis. In recent years the histori-
cal aspects of international law have aroused considerable interest among wider
circles of jurists and neighbouring disciplines. This historical turn (as it has been
dubbed) was fairly unexpected to those who have dwelt upon that field ear-
lier on. Those were essentially internationalists who felt themselves, and would
appear to their colleagues, as a few aficionados cultivating their secret garden,
without being taken very seriously. As in other legal disciplines, the history of
international law usually has at best an ornamental value, except when it can be
instrumentalized for practical purposes. Of course there are professional legal
historians, but these would hardly ever care for international law. The traditional
historians of international law, starting with their remote ancestor, Robert Ward,
were rather seen as marginal amateurs. Genuine internationalists (just as other
jurists) deal with current law, which means actual practice rather than detached
theoretical considerations.
And yet such a sharp division between supposedly positive law and the halo
of ideas surrounding it, while it may work in most fields of municipal law, is
untenable in international law. By ignoring its roots, which lie in history and
philosophy, one loses sight as it were of its very matrix and soul. This seemed
already obvious, at the height of legal positivism toward the end of the nine-
teenth century, to one of its outstanding representatives, Alphonse Rivier. A
staunch positivist, Rivier was the Swiss consul in Belgium and professor of
Roman and international law at the Université Libre de Bruxelles (with Ernest
Nys, the most eminent historian of international law of his time, as his col-
league). Rivier considered what he still called the law of nations—​‘Principes
du droit des gens’ is the title of his main work—​as ‘an eminently historical
discipline’: history is more than just an auxiliary science, he asserted, ‘it is
its main basis, its foremost source being the usage of nations’ (Völkerbrauch).
Almost in the same breath he added that philosophy is quite as indispensable
in its critical and theoretical function, striving to integrate the existing materi-
als and practices into ‘a harmonious and logically articulated whole’ (Lehrbuch
des Völkerrechts, Stuttgart, 1889). He also recognized the crucial part played by
abstract philosophical constructions in the origins of international law (though
he judged them irrelevant for the present).
In fact, international law in its beginnings appears to a large extent as an off-
shoot of early modern political and moral philosophy at grips with the Romanistic
and Canonistic jus commune; and philosophy has ever since had an important
x

x Avant-Propos
share in its development. The reason for this philosophical bias lies in the very
nature and structure of the discipline. ‘There is no praetor’, as was famously
stated by Hegel, the last of the authors examined in this volume. At best there are
arbitrations and mediators, he says, but these are mere expedients depending on
the states’ individual wills. There is no common power constituted above them,
which entails a general precariousness of whatever they may have stipulated by
treaty (Hegel, Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts, 1821). In line with Hobbes,
Spinoza, Rousseau, and Kant, Hegel considered the states as remaining side by
side in a state of nature, and hence in a basically lawless condition. In spite of lofty
pseudo-​constitutional devices like Wolff’s civitas maxima, this Vattelian horizon-
tality remains the essential structural feature of international law, although Hegel’s
divinization of the state and its sovereign will is nowadays considered as past and of
another age. In spite of considerable developments in international organization,
international law remains fundamentally ‘anarchical’. Kant’s sneer at the ‘sorry
comforters’ could easily be redirected to the present. In fact, no legal discipline is
confronted with equal scepticism on the part of other jurists as to its soundness. It
constantly has to explain and justify its legal foundations and its very legal nature,
precisely on account of the lack of a ‘praetor’ endowed with true public authority
over the states.
This situation was even more obvious at a time when the discipline of interna-
tional law did not yet exist as such, that is, roughly up to the middle of the sev-
enteenth century. The European state was by then still taking shape, either in its
princely or its republican shape. Intense reflection and theorizing was devoted to it
by political thinkers such as Machiavelli, Bodin, Althusius, or Hobbes, for whom
conversely international aspects were at best a marginal preoccupation. On the other
hand, the relationship between states was a central concern to the so-​called clas-
sics (or ‘founders’) of international law during that period, from Vitoria to Grotius.
What they had in mind, however, when they mentioned jus gentium was not yet
international law in our sense, as would clearly be the case a century thereafter with
Leibniz, Textor, Bynkershoek, or Wolff; at most they had at times a vague intuition
of such an overarching legal order, of which Vitoria‘s totus orbis as the legislator
of jus gentium governing the whole world ‘in peace and in war’ is an outstanding
(and rare) example (Relectio de potestate civili, 1527–58). What they were usually
writing about was the law of war, not as part of a wider international law, but as a
self-​contained legal subject-​matter which reached back for its formative stages to
the medieval jus belli. This is eloquently shown by the very titles of their works: De
indis et de jure belli (Vitoria, 1538–9), De re militari et bello (Belli, 1563), De jure
et officiis bellicis et disciplina militari (Ayala, 1582), De jure belli (Gentili, 1588–​9/​
1598), and De jure belli ac pacis (Grotius, 1625). With the rise of the state, war was
by then increasingly becoming an exclusively inter-​state relationship, as was much
later famously to be proclaimed by Rousseau. Already Gentili defined it as ‘a just
and public contest of arms’ (publicorum armorum justa contentio) in which only
‘princes’, that is, sovereign powers in Bodin’s style could take part. Though lim-
ited to belligerency, this was of course precisely the kind of relationship that raised
the question of a possible legal order above those powers (much more drastically
 xi

Avant-Propos xi

than the law of embassies, which also formed an autonomous legal tradition partly
related to jus gentium since Roman times). Here then lies the spring of what the edi-
tors of this volume postulate as ‘international legal thought’ (a somewhat ethereal
concept which could remind one, if a bit of mischief be allowed, of the mythical
‘phlogiston’ that was supposed to account for the inflammability of substances in
eighteenth century chemistry).
All the sixteenth and early seventeenth century authors just mentioned felt the
need to tackle this basic problem of a law among belligerents when they undertook to
writing on the law of war. This is the main object of the Prolegomena to Grotius’ mag-
num opus of 1625 on the law of war and the return to peace: the celebrated diatribe
against Carneades seeks to discard a limine the ‘realist’ denial of any normative order
beyond the states by affirming, in the steps of Cicero and the Spanish scholastics, the
reality of a natural law inherent in human nature and valid ‘even if God did not exist’.
Gentili in 1598 had given a similar demonstration to the same effect by adding in the
final version of his treatise a substantial introductory chapter ‘on the law of nations
relating to war’ (De jure gentium bellico). War was obviously the main catalyst of inter-
national legal thought during the first part of the period examined in this volume.
A more general apprehension of jus gentium as an all-​embracing system of
international law became common only after the middle of the seventeenth cen-
tury. What has been termed the first textbook of international law was indeed
published exactly in 1650 by Richard Zouche, the successor of Gentili in the
Regius Chair of civil law at Oxford. His relatively slender manual was named
after the Roman jus fetiale, the law governing Rome’s foreign relations, and it
did indeed encompass the whole of the relationships between nations in peace
and in war (significantly in this order, the law of war being henceforth inte-
grated into a wider framework). Zouche also called it jus inter gentes (instead of
the traditional and ambiguous jus gentium) as applying specifically to the com-
munio inter gentes, that is, between nations confronting each other as personified
Hobbesian polities. The expression conveys a clear sense of international legal
thought. International law was here for the first time articulated as a complete
and autonomous legal field, prefiguring classical international law as delineated
a century later in Wolff’s Jus Gentium (1749) and Vattel’s Droit des Gens (1758).
International law is presented in both these works as a fully systematized and
independent ‘science’ rationally deduced from natural law principles. About the
same time, Johann Jacob Moser published two booklets in a very different vein
rejecting the very idea of a universal system. They set out dryly, without more ado,
the actual practice prevailing among European nations in time of peace (1750)
and war (1752). Moser is the archpositivist and stands in stark contrast to Wolff
and the natural law of tradition of Pufendorf. Both Moser and Wolff could, for
all that, have claimed Zouche as their patron. The Oxford professor himself con-
sidered Gentili and Grotius as his main inspiration, the one for Jus, the other for
Ratio, acknowledging thereby the equal relevance of both practice and principle.
While the two approaches were obviously complementary for Zouche, they were
clearly drifting apart a century later with Moser and Wolff. Three and a half dec-
ades later this discrepancy was noted and regretted by Dietrich von Ompteda in
xi

xii Avant-Propos
his Litteratur des Völkerrechts of 1785. This repertory of the literature on the law of
nations was intended as a preliminary study to a truly thorough and complete sys-
tem of the law of the nations, natural as well as positive, which would duly take into
account the principles (Grundregeln) and their practical application (Anwendung)
by custom and treaties. The first step to be taken in this regard was ‘to put the vari-
ous objects of the law of nations into an adequate order and mutual relationship’
(Litteratur des gesamten sowohl natürlichen als positiven Völkerrechts, 1785) (empha-
sis added). This is indeed what Ompteda did in the detailed plan he drew of the
treatise he had in mind (with some trepidation). He never wrote the book, but
the sketch he left is a signal token of mature international legal thought. To the
participants in this expedition returning from their bountiful venture Ompteda’s
outline could surely appear as a safe haven, with System and Order watching like
two towers over its entrance.
Peter Haggenmacher
 xi

Acknowledgements

This volume is the result of a research project that has stretched over three years.
We owe thanks to many people involved in its course. We would like to thank
Normative Orders, Cluster of Excellence at Goethe University Frankfurt/Main, in
particular its managing director Rebecca Schmidt, for financial and organizational
support and for hosting the first of two conferences of authors held in July 2014.
We are equally grateful to the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, two anonymous
reviewers, as well as Immacolata Amodeo and Christiane Liermann Traniello for
the opportunity to have a second workshop at Villa Vigoni in Menaggio di Como
in June 2015. For important advice and inspiration, we are indebted to Anne Peters,
Michael Stolleis, Matthias Lutz-​Bachmann, and Stefan Häußler. In the preparation
of the manuscript, we could count on valuable support from Lea Isabelle Lang,
Theresa Neumann, Marie Dickel, Jennifer Drehwald, Sascha Gourdet, Christoph
Hettinger, and Raven Kirchner. We would further like to thank John Louth, Merel
Alstein, Emma Endean, and Eve Ryle-​Hodges from Oxford University Press for
their assistance in preparing this volume for publication. Last, but not least, thanks
are due to Nehal Bhuta, Anthony Pagden, and Benjamin Straumann for including
this book in the History and Theory of International Law series.
On 23 August 2015, we had to mourn for the loss of our esteemed colleague
and friend Merio Scattola. Through his scholarly expertise and his unbroken opti-
mism, he enriched our meetings and inspired our thoughts. He was working on
his contribution to this volume literally until his last days. With him, the academic
community loses a great scholar of the history of political thought. This book is
dedicated to his memory.
Stefan Kadelbach
Thomas Kleinlein
David Roth-Isigkeit

Frankfurt/Main, January 2017

xvi
 xv

Contents

List of Contributors  xxi

Introduction  1
Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-​Isigkeit
I. On the Topicality of the Past  1
II. The History of International Legal Thought  2
III. System and Order  7
IV. From Machiavelli to Hegel  11
V. The Plan of the Book  13

I .  AU T H O R S
1. Niccolò Machiavelli’s International Legal Thought:
Culture, Contingency, and Construction  19
David Roth-​Isigkeit
I. Niccolò Machiavelli  20
II. The Political Condition  22
III. Techniques of Government  24
IV. Concept of Law  27
V. Morality and Normativity  29
VI. Imperialism  31
VII. International Law  33
VIII. Perspectives—​Is Machiavelli a Part of the History of
International Legal Thought?  36

2. Francisco de Vitoria: A Redesign of Global Order on the Threshold of

the Middle Ages to Modern Times  38
Kirstin Bunge
I. Introduction: The ‘School of Salamanca’ and Francisco de Vitoria  38
II. Moral Theology and Jurisprudence  40
III. Cycles of Reception  50
IV. Dominium and Law as Integral Parts of the Global Order  53
V. Conclusion  54

3. Francisco Suárez S.J. on the End of Peaceful Order among States and
Systematic Doctrinal Scholarship  56
Tobias Schaffner
I. Introduction  56
II. Biographical, Intellectual, and Historical Background  59
xvi

xvi Contents
III. Theory  63
IV. The Reception of Suárez’ Aristotelian–​Thomist Theory  74
V. Conclusion  76

4. Jean Bodin on International Law  78

Merio Scattola†
I. The Problem of Sovereignty, or: Is Jean Bodin a Classic Author in
International Law?  78
II. Relationships among Commonwealths in the Six Livres de la
République  82
III. A Method for a Missing Public Law of Nations  85
IV. Conclusions for the Doctrine of Sovereignty  89

5. Alberico Gentili: Sovereignty, Natural Law, and the System of Roman

Civil Law  92
Andreas Wagner
I. Introduction  92
II. Biographical Sketch  93
III. System and Order: Gentili’s Synthesis of Sovereignty and Legal
Integration  95
IV. Reception  105
V. The Present Role of Gentili’s Non-​Public Global Law, its
Advantages and Drawbacks  108

6. Althusius: Back to the Future  115

Thomas O. Hueglin
I. Early-​Modern Context: Territorial Absolutism and Political
Calvinism  116
II. Conceptual Foundations: Federal Theology and the Question of
Sovereignty  118
III. A Theory of Federalism: Council Governance, Subsidiarity, and
Consent  122
IV. Reception: Refuted, Condemned, Forgotten, Misread  128
V. Relevance in Ascendance?  130

7. Hugo Grotius: On the Conquest of Utopia by Systematic Reasoning  134

Stefan Kadelbach
I. Introduction  134
II. Texts, Intentions, Method  136
III. Grotius and Ensuing Natural Law Philosophy  150
IV. The ‘Grotian Tradition’  153
V. Conclusion: System and Order in Grotius  157
 xvi

Contents xvii

8. Orders in Disorder: The Question of an International State of Nature

in Hobbes and Rousseau 160
Jonas Heller
I. The Question of an International Disorder in Hobbes and Rousseau  161
II. The Beginning of Disorder  163
III. The Social Contract as Foundation of an International State of
Nature  167
IV. The International State of Nature as a Condition of War  171
V. Rousseau and the Question of Perpetual Peace  174
VI. Can International Law Be Possible?  176
VII. Remarks about the History of Reception  179
VIII. Conclusion: National Orders in International Disorder  181

9. The International Legal Argument in Spinoza  183

Tilmann Altwicker
I. Introduction  183
II. The Absence of Normativity in the International State of Nature  186
III. Reconstruction of the International Legal Argument  188
IV. Three Analytical Concepts in Spinoza’s International Legal Argument  192
V. Conclusion: Spinoza’s Contribution to the Ordering of
International Relations  196

10. States, as Ethico-​Political Subjects of International Law: The

Relationship between Theory and Practice in the International Politics
of Samuel Pufendorf  199
Vanda Fiorillo
I. International Law as a Moral Politics: The Correlation between the
Fulfilment of the ‘Offices of Humanity’ and the Exercise
of the Natural Rights of States  199
II. A Pragmatic Politics: International Treaties as Politico-​Diplomatic
Instruments Converting the Peace Duties into Inter-​State Practice  208
III. Conclusion  214

11. Christian Wolff: System as an Episode?  216

Thomas Kleinlein
I. A Universal Systematizer and Champion of Academic Freedom  217
II. Grotius, Wolff, Vattel, and the Riddle of Scientific Method  218
III. The Systematizer’s Scientific Method and International Law  221
IV. Three Transitions and Wolff ’s Jus Gentium Voluntarium  231
V. Conclusion  238
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xviii Contents
12. The Law of the Nations as the Civil Law of the World: On
Montesquieu’s Political Cosmopolitanism  240
Christian Volk
I. Montesquieu’s Methodology and the Status of his Thoughts
on the Law of Nations  243
II. What Is Law? Montesquieu’s Basic Legal–​Philosophical
Assumptions about the Essence of Law and its Consequences
for the Law of Nations  248
III. Montesquieu and the System of his Thoughts on the Law of Nations  252
IV. The Confederate Republic as the Political–​Institutional Form
of a Montesquieuesque Law of Nations  259

13. Emer de Vattel on the Society of Nations and the Political System of
Europe  263
Simone Zurbuchen
I. Career and Main Works  263
II. The Law of Nations and the Tradition of Modern Natural Law  265
III. The Natural and the Voluntary Law of Nations  267
IV. The Dualisms at Work: The Example of the Law of War  272
V. Vattel’s Legacy  280

14. Towards a System of Sympathetic Law: Envisioning Adam Smith’s

Theory of Jurisprudence  283
Bastian Ronge
I. Adam Smith’s Internal Legal Philosophy  284
II. Adam Smith’s Theory of Sympathy: The Conceptual Framework  290
III. The Centrepiece of Smith’s Philosophy of Law: The Sympathetic
Foundation of Rights  293
IV. Rewriting the Systems of Positive Law: The Example of
Inheritance Law  296
V. Adam Smith’s International Law: Pushing the Limits of Sympathy  298

15. Systematicity to Excess: Kant’s Conception of the International Legal

Order  303
Benedict Vischer
I. Introduction  303
II. The Systematicity of International Law  305
III. The Status of the Cosmopolitan System  308
IV. Traits of Openness  317
V. Conclusion  327

16. Fichte and the Echo of his Internationalist Thinking in Romanticism  329
Carla De Pascale
I. The Early Fichte as the Heir of the Pacifist-​Cosmopolitan Tradition  329
II. The Effects Produced on Fichte’s Thought by his Reflections on
History and by the Historical Problem of Nation-​Building  338
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Contents xix

III. Fichte as a Master of the Romantics  345

IV. The Influence of Fichte in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries  347
V. Conclusion  350

17. The Plurality of States and the World Order of Reason: On Hegel’s
Understanding of International Law and Relations  352
Sergio Dellavalle
I. Hegel’s Theory of International Law and Relations  353
II. Hegel against the Background of the Established Paradigms of
Social Order  363
III. Towards a New Paradigm of Order?  374

II.  PERSPECTIVES ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF

I N T E R N AT I O N A L L AW
18. What Should International Legal History Become?  381
Martti Koskenniemi

19. State Theory, State Order, State System—​Jus Gentium and the
Constitution of Public Power  398
Nehal Bhuta
I. State Theory and State Concept  399
II. External State Law’s Ontology of Stateness  405
III. Early Modern Jus Gentium’s Constitution of Public Power  408
IV. Conclusion  417

20. Spatial Perceptions, Juridical Practices, and Early International Legal

Thought around 1500: From Tordesillas to Saragossa  418
Thomas Duve
I. Cartographic and Spatial Revolutions and International Legal
Thought around 1500  418
II. From Alcáçovas to Tordesillas  424
III. From Tordesillas to Saragossa  431
V. Conclusion  440

21. The Disorder of Economy? The First Relectio de Indis in a Theological

Perspective  443
Mónica García-​Salmones Rovira
I. Vitoria’s Theology for International Law  446
II. Natural Good and Dispensation of Natural Law  451
III. De Indis  457
IV. Conclusions  463

22. Power and Law as Ordering Devices in the System of International

Relations  464
Gunther Hellmann
x

xx Contents
I. System, Order, and Anarchy  466
II. Power, Law, and Order  472
III. Conclusion  480

23. Universalism and Particularism: A Dichotomy to Read Theories on

International Order  482
Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle
I. Introduction  482
II. Universalism and Particularism—​The Meaning, Value, and Limits
of a Dichotomy  483
III. Applying the Dichotomy  488
IV. Beyond the Dichotomy  499

Some Brief Conclusions  505

Pierre-​Marie Dupuy
I. Space and Time  505
II. Questioning and Regression  506
III. Back to the Turning Back  507
IV. A Precarious International Constitutionalism  508
V. Competing Notions of Universality  509
VI. Globalization  509
VII. Towards a Programme to Combat Regression?  510

Index  513
 xxi

List of Contributors
Tilmann Altwicker is a SNSF-Ambizione fellow and senior lecturer at the University of
Basel.
Nehal Bhuta is professor of public international law at the European University Institute,
Florence.
Armin von Bogdandy is director at the Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public Law
and International Law in Heidelberg and professor for public law at Goethe University
Frankfurt/Main.
Kirstin Bunge is an affiliate of the Hamburg University of Applied Sciences.
Sergio Dellavalle is professor of state theory and public law at the University of Turin and
a senior research affiliate at the Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public Law and
International Law in Heidelberg.
Carla De Pascale is professor of the history of philosophy at the University of Bologna.
Pierre-​Marie Dupuy is emeritus professor at the University of Paris (Panthéon-Assas) and hon-
orary professor at the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies, Geneva.
Thomas Duve is director at the Max Planck Institute for European Legal History and pro-
fessor of comparative legal history at Goethe University Frankfurt/Main.
Vanda Fiorillo is professor of political philosophy at the University of Naples.
Mónica García-​Salmones is a postdoctoral research fellow at the Erik Castrén Institute of
International Law and Human Rights at the University of Helsinki.
Peter Haggenmacher is honorary professor at the Graduate Institute of International and
Development Studies, Geneva.
Jonas Heller is a postdoctoral research fellow at ‘Normative Orders’, Cluster of Excellence,
and at the department of philosophy, at Goethe University Frankfurt/Main.
Gunther Hellmann is professor of political science and principal investigator at ‘Normative
Orders’, Cluster of Excellence at Goethe University Frankfurt/Main.
Thomas O. Hueglin is professor of political science at Wilfrid Laurier University, Waterloo
(Ontario).
Stefan Kadelbach is professor of public international law and European constitutional law
at Goethe University Frankfurt/​Main.
Thomas Kleinlein is Privatdozent at the Institute for Public Law and associate member of
‘Normative Orders’, Cluster of Excellence at Goethe University Frankfurt/​Main.
Martti Koskenniemi is academy professor and director of the Erik Castrén Institute of
International Law and Human Rights at the University of Helsinki.
Bastian Ronge is a postdoctoral research fellow at the department of practical and social
philosophy at Humboldt University Berlin.
xxi

xxii List of Contributors

David Roth-​Isigkeit is a postdoctoral research fellow at ‘Normative Orders’, Cluster of
Excellence at Goethe University Frankfurt/​Main.
Merio Scattola† was professor of the history of political ideas at the University of Padua.
Tobias Schaffner is an attorney with Knoetzl Haugeneder Netal Rechtsanwaelte GmbH,
Vienna.
Benedict Vischer is a research fellow at the Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public
Law and International Law in Heidelberg and at ‘Normative Orders’, Cluster of Excellence
at Goethe University Frankfurt/Main.
Christian Volk is professor of political science with a special focus on politics and law at the
Otto-Suhr-Institute of the Free University of Berlin.
Andreas Wagner is a postdoctoral research fellow at the Academy of Science and
Literature, Mainz.
Simone Zurbuchen is professor of philosophy at the University of Lausanne.
 Introduction
Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-​Isigkeit

I.  On the Topicality of the Past

For many centuries, thinkers have tried to understand and to conceptualize politi-
cal and legal order beyond the boundaries of sovereign territories. Their theories
aim at the interaction of human, social, and political communities on its highest
level. While this interest in describing and designing political order beyond the
state (or its preliminaries) had diverse reasons—​some wanted to help their prince to
stay in power, others aimed at resolving the riddles of human sociality—​they share
a common object of thought, the international social, political, and legal order.
The directions from which these thinkers approach their common object, how-
ever, appear intimately linked to their personal histories and contemporary con-
texts. Accordingly, the concepts we encounter in this discourse are deeply entangled
in philosophical claims on theology,1 state formation,2 and human nature. Thus
understood, concepts of world order are embedded in complex philosophical sys-
tems and epistemic claims. With this volume, we hope to make this framework
visible and to contribute to an emerging discourse that draws its inspiration from
a philosophical re-​appreciation, often creative, of the history of international legal
thought.
In this introduction, we will lay down our perspective on the recent trend of
historical inquiry in international legal scholarship and situate international legal
thought as a distinctive discursive sphere between international law, the history of
political ideas, and political philosophy. This volume is dedicated to the emergence
of this discursive sphere before the modern national state appeared. In this early
period, international law in the modern sense had not yet been constituted as a
university discipline. International legal thinking was mostly considered a reflex of
other academic inquiries—​theology, law, or ethics. Rudimentary as these sketches

1  Anthony Carty, ‘The Play of Medieval Ghosts and Renaissance Demons in Birth, Death and
Rebirth of European International Law’, in Thilo Marauhn and Heinhard Steiger (eds.), Universality
and Continuity in International Law (2011), pp. 61–85.
2  Annabel Brett, Changes of State: Nature and the Limits of the City in Early Modern Natural Law
(2011).

Introduction. Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit. © Stefan Kadelbach,
Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
2 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
might have been, they are inspirational in the search for answers to the challenges
of a political world that appears increasingly complex.
One of the reasons for the increasing re-​appreciation of the roots of interna-
tional legal thought is that the questions at stake are inextricably linked with today’s
theoretical discourses on international law. While the world has secularized and
theological arguments are replaced by ethical reasoning, old challenges such as the
question of perpetual peace are a lasting topic on the philosophical agenda. Old and
new questions alike seem to pervade different epochs of philosophical, political,
and legal thinking: how do institutions and agreements retain their normative force
in an ever-​changing political world? In particular, in our days, when it is common
to state that the importance of the nation-​state is vanishing, the problems at issue
in the classic theories do not seem too remote: is an international system without
central power possible? How can a normative order come about if there is no cen-
tral force to structure relations between states? In times where insecurity about the
persistence of an international law of national states pervades scholarly agendas,
this historically-​situated form of international legal thought contains inspirational
potential.
It is this inspiration and creativity of thought that appears both promising and
challenging at the same time. In designing the volume, we have tried to respond
to a conceptual problem to bridge the gap of up to 500 years of societal thinking.
With the notions of system and order, we attempt to provide a frame of reference
that makes different approaches comparable and links them to today’s international
legal thinking. These terms are supposed to reflect the motivation and the object of
international legal thought. They are also sufficiently abstract and neutral to serve
as paradigms to appreciate how the early history of international legal thought is
already an indispensable part of international law as we know it and, at the same
time, a valuable conceptual resource for the challenges of a changing political world.
The following sections explain the goals and the framework of this volume in four
consecutive steps. Firstly, we will sketch our conceptual understanding of a history
of international legal thought as a project that highlights the intimate relationship
of philosophy and law in understanding the present models of global order. The
second section sets out our frame of reference, the interplay of system and order,
which serves as a reference to link historical models to today’s discourse. The third
section explains our particular interest in the period from Machiavelli to Hegel in a
study of international legal thought. Ultimately, the fourth section illustrates some
of the results of this exercise that we consider fruitful for the discourse.

II.  The History of International Legal Thought

1. International legal thought: A legal project and an integrative

approach
International legal thought intends to close a gap in the philosophical history
of global order where little emphasis has been laid on the legal–​theoretical and
 Introduction 3

legal–​philosophical nuances. What makes a particular normative statement one

of ‘law’ and what distinguishes it from other kinds of normativity? Relatedly,
one might ask what the relationship between a philosophical system and the
legal system is, or between law and ethics. The distinction between facticity and
validity, universally acknowledged in the modern concept of law, arises with this
difference.
Highlighting the concept of thought can help us appreciate the complexity of
the different roles that are connected with philosophical concepts. Such recon-
struction must reflect both the role of the thinker and the object of thought, the
legal norm. What are the different motivations to conceptualize International
Relations as legal relations? Between self-​interest and duty, and between moral-
ity and hypocrisy, we encounter a broad spectrum of different roles along the
centuries.
This focus on legal thought, however, does not mean that we pursue a discipli-
nary legal project. As an inquiry into the philosophical foundations of law, it cannot
conceive of its legal object without taking the perspectives of other disciplines into
account. Yet, due to the diversity of perspectives one can take towards the internal
structures of legality, the specificities of legal forms of organization tend to become
blurred in the picture of politics, history, and sociology. This problem is reflected
in the currently more or less separate discourses in international legal scholarship,
philosophy, and International Relations, which do not necessarily take note of each
other. For the purpose of understanding, our modest interdisciplinary objective
is to make the traditions talk to each other, and, for this reason, bring together
contributions on authors who are generally considered as relevant for the respective
‘stories’ of the disciplines. Yet, in its capacity to take the internal structure of legality
into account, there is something distinct about international legal thought in its
argumentative structure which the participating disciplines have in common and
which provides for a common language.

2. The stories of the disciplines: Invented traditions?

Some of the authors discussed in this book have been of special interest in one dis-
cipline or another. In particular, international legal scholarship and International
Relations have established canons or standard narratives of their own scholarly tra-
ditions. For example, international legal scholarship often refers to Gentili, Grotius,
and Vattel. In turn, Machiavelli, Bodin, Hobbes, Rousseau, and Montesquieu
appear primarily as political philosophers. Some authors are particularly well-​
known in International Relations, due to Hedley Bull’s famous distinction between
the Hobbesian, the Kantian, and the Grotian traditions.3 Other authors, by con-
trast, such as Althusius or Spinoza, do not seem to be part of any canon.
Such reconstruction from the past applied to today’s questions requires a
conscious dealing with the tension between historical context and progressive

3  Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics (3rd edn, 2002), pp. 23–​6.
4 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
interpretation. The historiography of political ideas is dominantly contextual.4
Political philosophy, in turn, might necessarily imply the epistemic claim of endur-
ing questions—​and answers—​beyond individual historical circumstances.5 Here,
the history of international legal thought is related to a kind of normativity that is
neither purely contextual in a narrow sense nor claims to be timeless and universal.
Like texts that express abstract political ideas, texts that unfold ideas of interna-
tional legal order have certainly played a role as political interventions, in particular
social contexts and political power struggles.6
By following an approach of moderate anachronism, we intend to walk the line
between the inner structure of the argument, contextual research and a perspective
carefully guided by today’s international law. This involves thinking about ques-
tions like the author’s intended audience, possible constraints, and the extent to
which the theory responds to a given political context. To make sense of a use of the
argument today, however, it is also important to take the theory out of its original
context and reflect upon it in the light of current problems, and to ask whether its
transformative value is dependent on the historical situation. This could mean, eg,
to ask to what extent Vitoria’s and Suárez’ arguments are not only explained through
colonialism, but also dependent on it. In other words, we are interested in hidden
agendas, errors, and (frustrated) hopes as much as in emancipatory potentials. The
ambition of international legal thought thus understood obviously reaches further
than confining international law to an assemblage of concrete treaties or custom-
ary obligations. On the other hand, it cannot be reduced to natural-​law thinking.
It evokes a specific form of normativity that touches upon many of the received
accounts.
Such an often creative reading of history finds its analogy in the argumentative
structures that appear in legal proceedings. Arguments of legal practitioners and
diplomats often reach out into the past when they cite precedents or when they
aim at establishing a norm of customary international law. This includes reference
to authors that this volume deals with, thus following a method Gentili, Bodin, or
Grotius used themselves. Gentili, for instance, reconstructed the content of natural
law using figures like overlapping customs and time tests stemming from Roman
civil law doctrine.7 Bodin obtained and extracted all rules, institutes, and customs
of the ‘public law of nations’ from a study of examples and models preserved in
ancient history. Grotius developed a new branch of legal knowledge in the early

4  Quentin Skinner, ‘Meaning and Understanding in the History of Ideas’, History and Theory 8
(1969), 3–​53; Quentin Skinner, ‘Meaning and Understanding Speech Acts’, in Quentin Skinner (ed.),
Visions of Politics. Volume 1 Regarding Method (2002), pp. 57–​89.
5  Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann, ‘State of Nature versus Commercial Sociability as
the Basis of International Law: Reflections on the Roman Foundations and Current Interpretations
of the International Political Legal Thought of Grotius, Hobbes, and Pufendorf ’, in Samantha Besson
and John Tasioulas (eds.), The Philosophy of International Law (2010), pp. 33–​51, at p. 51. For a debate
whether political philosophy is too ahistorical, see Jonathan Floyd and Marc Stears (eds.), Political
Philosophy versus History? Contextualism and Real Politics in Contemporary Political Thought (2011).
6  Skinner, ‘Meaning and Understanding in the History of Ideas’ (n. 4).
7  See the contribution by Wagner in this volume.
 Introduction 5

seventeenth century on the basis of historical and literary sources. A search for the
form of normativity thus involves a special relationship to time and history.
Thus, through the continuing self-​historicization in international legal thought,
this special relationship to the past reproduces itself on the reflexive level of the dis-
cipline.8 The particular interest of international legal thought in its own idea of tra-
dition has led us to place a specific emphasis on the reception of individual authors
over the centuries and in current debates. This interest in the histories of reception
is reflected in the contrast between the new popularity of theory, philosophy, and
history, on the one hand, and a reference to the classics in standard discourse, on
the other, which seemingly remains unaffected by these new developments. What
are the reasons for the popularity of certain thinkers at a certain time? Are there ste-
reotypes,9 errors, or misunderstandings in reception? Are there differences in inter-
pretation and do they follow certain patterns? Are there institutions, judgments, or
arguments which are still invoked, and what are the interests behind them? What
are the twists in the receptions and appropriations?
Histories of reception allow us to capture the fact that international legal thought
is not a continuous conversation across time and that the migration of ideas is not
a steady process.10 In order to establish continuity and tradition, a certain degree
of creativity and inventiveness is certainly needed. Today, these stories are strongly
dominated by the remnants of specific cycles of reception. The way we look at
Suárez, Grotius, and others today is influenced by the way in which they were
portrayed in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and at times a stand-
ard account with an independent life has developed.11 Surely, it is inevitable that
any current reconstruction is influenced by today’s concepts and problems. The
approach to create the necessary distance to today’s readers own perception is to
do both, where possible: to try to place classic texts in their original context, which
may be theology, philosophy, or political ethics, and to follow their reception in
order to assess what can be the lessons for current notions of the international order.

3. Between construction and critique

A distanced approach also seems appropriate in a second respect, the stance taken
vis-​à-​vis the dichotomy of construction and critique.
In today’s historically interested international legal scholarship, many approaches
seem to fall into one of two camps. The first type of narrative tells a story of progress,

8 For the potential problems that this self-​ historization comes with, see Matthew Craven,
‘Theorising the Turn to History in International Law’, in Anne Orford and Florian Hoffmann (eds.),
The Oxford Handbook of the Theory of International Law (2016), pp. 21–​37.
9  See the reading of Hobbes, Grotius, and Kant in Bull, The Anarchical Society (n. 3).
10  For a very special history of reception, see Vattel’s reception of Wolff and Vattel’s own lasting
authority in North America, as outlined in the contribution by Zurbuchen in this volume.
11  Thomas Kleinlein, ‘ “Wollen die leeren Worte kein Ende haben?” –​Die Frühaufklärung in der
heutigen Völkerrechtswissenschaft’, in Tilmann Altwicker, Francis Cheneval, and Oliver Diggelmann
(eds.), Völkerrechtsphilosophie der Frühaufklärung (2015), pp. 247–​66.
6 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
the second takes a critical perspective and is interested in international law as an
instrument of domination and as a product of Eurocentrism.12
In the first camp, we encounter the systematic use of historical arguments
to underline specific claims about the normativity of international law. This
strand recognizes the narrative structure of normativity and attempts to use his-
torical ideas to underline normative judgments, be they legal or moral. This
creative resort to history can be exemplified in the emergence of an ontological
dimension as a foundation for the spread of human rights as the core concept
of international law. Laying this foundation seems facilitated by the rediscovery
of international law as a divine institution, which, in turn, is closely related to
the increasing reception of the Spanish natural lawyers in the last decade.13 The
continuing interest in natural law concepts, now renewed once more, recov-
ers arguments that are otherwise difficult to defend in secularized normative
environments.14
In the second camp, critical scholars often engage with history for a decon-
structive purpose.15 They research how concepts and narratives of international
law are related to and deeply rooted in patterns of imperialism and colonial
domination over the centuries. In the 1990s, critical scholarship began to
research the ways in which past texts have been drawn upon to shape new
legal orders and obligations.16 This strand of critical legal studies is paral-
leled by developments in critical philosophy. Critical approaches in philos-
ophy aim at demystifying normativity by revealing the circumstances of its
genesis. In revealing the contingency of metaphysical assumptions, critical
philosophy erodes the narratives of universality by contrasting them with
the particularities of their existence conditions.17 In this reconstruction from
the past lies a potential that allows for a reflexive conception of the discipline

12  Ian Hunter, ‘Global Justice and Regional Metaphysics: On the Critical History of the Law of
Nature and Nations’, in Shaunnagh Dorsett and Ian Hunter (eds.), Law and Politics in British Colonial
Thought. Transpositions of Empire (2010), pp. 11–​29, at pp. 11–​12; Ian Hunter, ‘The Figure of Man
and the Territorialisation of Justice in “Enlightenment” Natural Law: Pufendorf and Vattel’, Intellectual
History Review 23 (2013), 289–​307, at 290.
13  See the contributions by Schaffner and Wagner in this volume.
14 See, for related arguments, Carty, The Play of Medieval Ghosts, pp. 61–​85 (n. 1); Oliver
O’Donovan, The Just War Revisited (2003).
15 Cf. Tilmann Altwicker and Oliver Diggelmann, ‘What Should Remain of the Critical
Approaches to International Law? International Legal Theory as Critique’, Schweizerische Zeitschrift für
Internationales und Europäisches Recht 24 (2014), 69–​92, at 81.
16 Cf. Anne Orford, ‘The Past as Law or History? The Relevance of Imperialism for Modern
International Law’, in Mark Toufayan, Emmanuelle Tourme-​Jouannet, and Hélène Ruiz Fabri (eds.),
Droit international et nouvelles approches sur le tiers-​monde, entre répétition et renouveau (2013), pp.
97–​117, at p. 109; A. Anghie, Imperialism, Sovereignty and the Making of International Law (2005).
Similarly, Orford’s research points to how the concept of Responsibility to Protect reactivates just war
theories and the normative foundations of authority in international law in general. See Anne Orford,
International Authority and the Responsibility to Protect (2011).
17  See, for further reading, Razmig Keucheyan, The Left Hemisphere (2013). For a discussion of
‘system’ in this context see pp. 79–​168.
 Introduction 7

revealing ‘what we study as history of international law depends on what we

think “international law” is in the first place’.18
Acknowledging this, the present project may in itself be seen as ‘organizing a sys-
tem through historiography’.19 One of the central elements of this reconstruction is
the attempt to find a balance between the historical context and our perception of
it. It intends to contribute to transcending this dualism and does not fall in either of
these camps. Thus, the objective cannot be to approach thinkers from Machiavelli
to Hegel with a common perspective, or a common critical mindset, scrutinizing
their arguments and concepts in search for particular biases. Rather than to develop
other linear narratives, it was intended to open up a space for reflexivity between
construction and critique. A result may well be to understand the authors’—​and
readers’—​own perception of present international law as inevitably ‘European’,
with all good and bad associations this term might provoke.

III.  System and Order

1. The concept of a system

In order to support the structure of the volume with a mediating perspective
between law and philosophy, we use the concept of system. The term triggers certain
associations: completeness, wholeness, coherence, unity, stability.20 Not only in the
legal context, but quite generally, system implies a technique used to develop con-
crete outcomes from general ideas by canons of methods. We find dogmatic systems
in medicine, theology, and philosophy. They describe practices, actors, the inter-
relations between different entities and those between these entities and a common
unity so that all components in their totality form a system: there can be a federal
system,21 the ‘Westphalian’ system,22 a ‘system of states’,23 a collective security sys-
tem24 or, most generally, the ‘international’ or ‘world system’.25 Thus, conceiving

18  Martti Koskenniemi, ‘A History of International Law Histories’, in Bardo Fassbender and Anne
Peters (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law (2012), pp. 943–​71, at p. 970.
19 Cf. Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Between Coordination and Constitution: International Law as a
German Discipline’, Redescriptions 15 (2011), 45–​70, at 63.
20  ‘System’ is used in a different way in Luhmann’s sociological theory of law. The overarching
concept of ‘system’ here describes the interplay between societal forces, one subsystem being law itself,
which, by way of functional differentiation of society, interacts with other systems. Niklas Luhmann,
A Sociological Theory of Law (2nd edn, 2013). See also Andreas Fischer-​Lescano and Gunther Teubner,
‘Regime-​Collisions –​The Vain Search for Legal Unity in the Fragmentation of Global Law’, Mich J
Int’l L 25 (2004), 999–​1046.
21  Reinhart Koselleck, ‘Bund –​Bündnis, Föderalismus, Bundesstaat’, in Otto Brunner et al. (eds.),
Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe, vol. I (1972), pp. 582, 631 with further reference.
22  Arthur Eyffinger, ‘Europe in the Balance –​An Appraisal of the Westphalian System’, Neth Int’l L
Rev 45 (1998), 161–​87.
23  Wilhelm Grewe, Epochen der Völkerrechtsgeschichte (1984), pp. 33–​8.
24  Cf. Christine Gray, ‘A Crisis of Legitimacy for the UN Collective Security System?’, ICLQ 56
(2007), 157–​70.
25  Cf. e.g. Eric Wilson, The Savage Republic: De Indis of Hugo Grotius, Republicanism and Dutch
Hegemony Within the Early Modern World-​System (c. 1600-​1619) (2008).
8 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
International Relations in terms of a legal system entails certain demands of coher-
ence and rationality.
On the one hand, the law has a special place in philosophical systems, so that it
can be a specific trait of systematic philosophy to think of international relations
as legal relations. Here, the notion of a system integrates real world and utopia in
that it expresses what a polity has decided to become and what it actually wants
to become. On the other hand, we might ask what this dialectic means for a con-
ception of a legal system. In a lawyer’s perspective, the notion of a system has a
stronger normative meaning when it implies a context which allows one to derive
obligations.26 In that sense, it is the fitting together of institutions, rules, principles,
and precedents that makes the law appear as a system. Systematic approaches pro-
vide the methodology to contextualize relationships of single norms and hence to
resolve tensions between normative ideals such as peace, justice, or liberty.
Depicting international law as legal system has become a standard expression.27
The term ‘system’ is found, among other places, in the works of Leibniz, Wolff, and
Kant, all of which illustrate the various meanings the term may have.28 From 1600,
the concept of ‘system’ becomes increasingly established as a term for the external
aspect of government. Grotius already refers to such a concept when he describes
foreign policy as a bond between autonomous communities (‘Foedus arctissimum
inter civitates’).29 The concept becomes even more encompassing for Hobbes, who
defines ‘system’ as ‘any numbers of men joined in one interest, or one business’ and
dedicates a whole chapter of his Leviathan to its discussion.30 Other authors refer to
the meaning of system with different notions: for example, ‘summa’ or ‘summula’
refers to the same type of treatises written by Catholic scholars, which Protestant
scholars would call ‘system’.31 Fides majestas or civitas maxima may also represent
examples of a system of reference.
The meaning of the term ‘system’ has changed over the last century. In late
German Idealism, the objective idea of ‘system’ seems to step back for a more
process-​oriented conception based on systematizing as the operating mode of criti-
cal reason. Since Savigny, it is also common to speak of a legal system if the particu-
larities of different legal cultures are stressed. Today, legal systems are more often
seen as a conceptual instrument for ordering and managing the law. Accordingly,
reconstructing and representing positive law as a system is regarded as the specific

26  See, in particular, Herbert Hart, The Concept of Law (1961), pp. 82–​91.
27  For a discussion of system-​related questions, see Jean Combacau, ‘Le droit international: bric-​à-​
brac ou système?’, Archives de Philosophie du Droit 31 (1986), 85–​105; Fragmentation of International
Law: Difficulties Arising from the Diversification and Expansion of International Law, Report of the
Study Group of the International Law Commission finalized by M. Koskenniemi, 13 April 2006, in
particular paras. 17, 34.
28  See Christian Strub, ‘System’ II (Neuzeit), in Joachim Ritter u.a. (eds.), Historisches Wörterbuch
der Philosophie, Bd. 10 (1998), pp. 825–​56. See also Merio Scattola, Krieg des Wissens –​Wissen des
Krieges: Konflikt, Erfahrung und System der literarischen Gattungen am Beginn der Frühen Neuzeit
(2006), pp. 87–​9 and the contributions by Fiorillo, Kleinlein, and Vischer in this volume.
29  Hugo Grotius De Iure Belli ac Pacis Libri Tres (1646), trans. Francis W. Kelsey (1925), Book I,
Ch. 3, Section VII, 1, 3, 7.
30  Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, Oxford World Classics (2009), ch. 22.
31 Scattola, Krieg des Wissens, p. 88 (n. 28).
 Introduction 9

function of legal scholarship. Legal scholarship thus creates a distinct area of dis-
course, which represents a sort of ‘middle level’ between natural law, on the one
hand, and the concrete provisions of positive law, on the other. Whilst the former
is primarily within the competence of philosophy and theology, the latter is in the
direct grasp of politics and the courts.32
Thus, one distinct meaning of ‘system’ is epistemic. The system is man-​made
and represents the exercise of theorizing itself. In this regard, ‘system’ describes
how a philosophy integrates different phenomena under one or more guiding
ideas. This epistemic aspect of a system is of particular relevance for the purposes
of the present volume. We will try to consider the epistemic meaning of a system,
be it in the scholastic sense of theological reasoning, the philosophical sense of
cognitive ordering, as found in Leibniz and Spinoza, or in the dogmatic sense of
legal scholarship. Christian Wolff develops a system in which international law is
one element. As opposed to natural law conceptions ‘system’ denotes here merely
the claim to present things autonomously and ‘systematically’, i.e. in a consistent,
non-​self-​contradictory way.

2. The notion of order

The concept of system as a cutting edge is supplemented with a less demanding
notion of order. By order, we understand a pattern which social relations between
human beings, groups, and states follow to provide for stability. Order appeals to
facticity and is based on some form of ‘authority’, i.e. a force that guarantees the
observance of the rules and patterns on which order rests, like power, command,
or consent. Patterns of international order may be explained by ‘state sociological’
concepts like hegemony or balance of power. It is in this sense that order has been
understood as the opposite of law.33

3. The relationship between system and order

In the approaches of this book, however, we will usually find both notions closely
intertwined. From an international law perspective, the question is how far rela-
tions between states are thought of as normative in a sense that behaviour is sta-
bilized and guided by legal obligations and, if so, whether these obligations form
a normative whole, in the sense that they can be derived from common concepts,
principles, and analogies in a consistent, self-​reflective way.
The very purpose of international law as a legal ‘system’ might be to provide
stability of expectations and thus an ‘order’ based on (the rule of ) law. By achieving
stability, a system fulfils an ordering function from which, in turn, it may derive
its legitimacy. Order provided through a legal system is the utopia international

32  Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle, ‘Universalism and Particularism as Paradigms of
International Law’, IILJ Working Paper (History and Theory of International Law Series) 3 (2008), 7.
33 Hersch Lauterpacht, ‘The Grotian Tradition in International Law’, The British Year Book of
International Law 23 (1946), 1, at 1.
10 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
legal thought explores in its writings. ‘System and order’ thus retains a middle level
between abstract and concrete, attempting the ‘realistic utopia’34 of international
relations as law. In this function, they comprise utopian and realist aspects of inter-
national legal thought.
Through their flexibility, both terms can positively structure the inquiries of
international legal thought, such as thinking about what the term ‘system’ might
mean for different authors, and whether its definition would be fulfilled in alterna-
tive circumstances. Here, we attempt to look for and to analyse watershed marks.
When can we speak about system and/​or order in author A or B? What marks their
difference? We believe that these terms potentially structure complex discourses and
direct them in tracks, so as to contribute to a meaningful dialogue. The diversity
of the use of system and order in the history of ideas puts the (also diverse, and
often incoherent, and in fact problematic) use of the term system in current inter-
national legal scholarship in the best light. The formation of normative concepts is
essentially contested, and reconstructing this contested history might contribute to
today’s debate.
Grotius is an example that demonstrates how researching the relationship
between system and order offers intriguing insights. For Grotius, order rests on
the law of nature, but the specific requirements of behaviour within that order
are demonstrated by a method of civil law adapted from Roman law. In Grotian
thought, it thus seems that the normative and the epistemic system often coin-
cide, so that one may speak of ‘order by system’. Different explanations as to the
relationship between system and order range from Machiavelli, for whom there is
little more than order, to Wolff, for whom there is apparently nothing more than
a system which, characteristically, is of a purely epistemic nature, ordered by the
intellectus systematicus alone. In Wolff, and in rationalism at large, a system is not
something that is in a specific order. Rather, ‘system’ now means something derived
from evident principles. This systematic intellect connects principles with the help
of logical thinking—​a doctrinal system may be a common whole of single phrases
connected through the logically working mind.35 Yet, even Wolff opened his system
towards a ‘strategy of reconciliation’ between the universal law of nature and posi-
tive international law based on actual consent. This is the so-​called voluntary law,
jus gentium voluntarium.36
Authors in early modernity—​with Wolff as a major exception—​did not under-
stand international law ‘as a legal “system” somewhere outside statehood’.37
Rather, they possibly understood their writings on war, treaties, and diplomacy as

34  For the idea of a ‘realistic utopia’, see John Rawls, The Law of Peoples (1999).
35  ‘Systema enim dicitur veritatum inter se et cum principiis suis connexarum congeries.’ Christian
Wolff, Philosofia rationalis sive logica (1728) § 889.
36  Cf. Martti Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia: The Structure of International Legal Argument,
reissued with a new epilogue (2nd edn, 2006), pp. 108–​12.
37  See, for this point, Martti Koskenniemi, ‘International Law and raison d’état: Rethinking the
Prehistory of International Law’, in Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), The Roman
Foundations of the Law of Nations: Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010), pp. 297, 298; Martti
Koskenniemi, ‘The Advantage of Treaties’, International Law in the Enlightenment 13 (2009), 27, at 30.
 Introduction 11

contributions to the literature on state ‘government’. If this was their perspective,

war, treaties, and diplomacy would simply be external aspects of government and
not elements of a universal normative order of international law. However, the trea-
tises on good government did not deny the possibility of system-​building as such.
Rather, they located their system in a different place. Pufendorf, for example, in
his ‘De Systematibus Civitatum’ from 1675, referred to a particular group of states
which—​like the German states after the Peace of Westphalia—​were sovereign and
yet connected so as to form one body.38
In their variations according to author, time, and context the concepts ‘system’
and ‘order’ possess the necessary flexibility. They can account for the many sketches
that are drawn in natural and positive laws with the help of ontological and con-
tractual models before international law as an interstate diplomatic practice was
formed in the way we know it today. Through their lasting significance in dis-
cussions on today’s international law, they link the early sketches of legal thought
from Machiavelli to Hegel to a present day’s perspective. Seemingly old ideas and
concepts might become the (re-​) discovery of tomorrow. The frame of reference of
system and order, in this sense, facilitates this transfer.

IV.  From Machiavelli to Hegel

To embark on this rediscovery, we decided to aim at the timespan from Machiavelli

to Hegel. It covers the international law of the modern world, which began, accord-
ing to the received account, in the sixteenth century with Vitoria and Suárez.39
Paradoxically at first sight, however, it was already with Machiavelli that interna-
tional thought became a distinctively legal subject. If the purpose had been to find
the origins of international law philosophy, one might as well have gone back to
Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, or Dante, all of whom engaged in depth with the
concepts stemming from antiquity.40 One reason to start later is that, for Augustine
and Thomas alike, problems that we see as falling into the realm of international
law, such as the reasons for resorting to war, are from today’s viewpoint questions
of theology and morals, and it is only their reception in Spanish scholasticism,
which translates them into the language of positive law.41 More importantly, with

38  See the contribution by Fiorillo in this volume.

39  Percy E. Corbett, Law and Society in the Relations of States (1951); Arthur Nussbaum, A Concise
History of the Law of Nations (1954); Nicholas G. Onuf, The Republican Legacy in International Thought
(1998), pp. 12–​13.
40  Hans Kelsen, Die Staatslehre des Dante Alighieri (1905), pp. 121–​35; Francis Cheneval, Die
Rezeption der Monarchia Dantes bis zur Editio princeps im Jahre 1559 (1995); Richard Tuck, The Rights
of War and Peace: Political Thought and International Order from Grotius to Kant (1995).
41  See the contribution by Bunge in this volume. Arguably, Thomas Aquinas already makes impor-
tant distinctions on the question of just war. Importantly however, his concepts of lex naturalis and lex
divinae belong to the field of morality. Yet, whether one believes that it is the more narrowly defined
concept of law by Vitoria or whether it is already Thomas’ ordination rationis divinae that qualifies as
the first legal approach to the problem of just war obviously depends on the way the term law is under-
stood. Here, however, natural and positive lawyers encounter insurmountable differences.
12 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
Machiavelli, the medieval world of order, dominated by the ideas of a civitas Dei
and a universal monarchy, cedes to a notion of state as a commonwealth with inter-
ests vis-​à-​vis other entities of the same nature. Machiavelli, being one of the stand-
ard references for international relations realism, is thus the first to pronounce an
idea of international order, rudimentary as it may be.
Hegel, to move to the other end of the period covered, is probably the last
thinker to have dealt with international law from the standpoint of a complete
philosophical system. In a paradoxical manner, Hegel’s legal philosophy, which
he presents as a negation of all systems of natural law, is at the same time the
last and most perfect system of natural law.42 With Hegel, the peak of system-
atic philosophy was reached. Afterwards, international law is no longer part of
a comprehensive philosophical system. In late German idealism, the system-​
critical period began with Schelling and was continued by many others in the
nineteenth century like Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, and Engels.
In Hegel’s epoch, international law reached a turning point and began its ‘gentle
civilizing mission’.43 International law became an academic discipline of its own
and hence a branch of law that was distinct from natural law. Positive international
law relied on treaty and state practice, as it was represented by Jeremy Bentham,
Karl Gottlob Günther,44 Johann Jakob Moser,45 Georg Friedrich von Martens,46
Johann Ludwig Klüber, and others.47 In a parallel development, the economy and
the common well-​being in a European commercial society emancipated itself as
a rationale for keeping promises between nations and accepting limitations on
sovereignty.48 Almost simultaneously, the notion of the nation-​state evolved and
changed the attitude to international law. The development is reflected by the nine-
teenth-​century reception of Hegel, who stood with at least one leg in the tradition
of eighteenth-​century cosmopolitism, but was claimed to be the partisan to the
notion of international law as external law of the state (Außenstaatsrecht). At the same
time, Hegel’s account of civil society and state foresaw important perspectives for
a modern understanding of international law. He conceived the relation between

42  Norberto Bobbio, ‘Hegel und die Naturrechtslehre’, in Manfred Riedel (ed.), Materialien zu
Hegels Rechtsphilosophie, vol. 2 (1975), p. 81.
43  Martti Koskenniemi, The Gentle Civilizer of Nations (2002).
44  Karl Gottlob Günther, Europäisches Völkerrecht in Friedenszeiten nach Vernunft, Verträgen und
Herkommen mit Anwendung auf die teutschen Reichsstände, 2 vols. (1787, 1792).
45  Johann Jacob Moser, Grundsätze des Völkerrechts. Versuch des neuesten Europäischen Völkerrechts in
Friedens-​und Kriegszeiten, I Tl, I Bd, 1777 (1959).
46  Georg Friedrich von Martens, Einleitung in das positive europäische Völkerrecht auf Verträge und
Herkommen gegründet (1796).
47  Koskenniemi, pp. 112–​16 (n. 43); Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Georg Friedrich von Martens (1756–​
1821) and the Origins of Modern International Law’, in Christian Calliess et al. (eds.), Von der
Diplomatie zum kodifizierten Völkerrecht –​75 Jahre Institut für Völkerrecht der Universität Göttingen
(1930-​2005) (2006), pp. 13–​39.
48  Kingsbury and Straumann, State of Nature versus Commercial Sociability, pp. 48–​50 (n. 5).
 Introduction 13

state and international community in an innovative manner as a co-​presence. Both

are preserved in their respective specificity of functions and as normative orders.49
Therefore, we end with Hegel not primarily because the peak of systematic
philosophy was reached, but also because, at his very lifetime, international law
invented its own tradition50—​thereby following a characteristic pattern of the
nineteenth century51—​and became a system of its own, detached from the philo-
sophical system. Accordingly, we cover the timespan from the actual start of the
‘invented tradition’ to the time when it was ‘invented’ to form the basis of nine-
teenth century international legal scholarship.
The period from Machiavelli to Hegel covers a variety of perspectives on the rela-
tionship between state interest and obligations of a state towards the outside world.
Beginning with Machiavelli raises the question of why this proto-​Hobbesian author
was not an international lawyer and why he did not understand international rela-
tions as legal relations.52 Hobbes’ concepts of law and right and his notion of a
legal system, read together with Rousseau, may be taken as an initial point for an
innovative conception of international law.53 Another example is Spinoza who, like
Hobbes, is generally perceived as a ‘denier’ of international law, but who provides
a (weakly) normative sociological theory of international law since he outlines the
sociological conditions under which international law is really ‘law’, i.e. the condi-
tions under which one state is forced to comply with the will of the allied. Spinoza
therefore neither simply describes international relations ‘as they are’, nor ‘as they
should be’, but rather depicts international relations ‘as they have the potential to
be’, given what law is and given the sociological conditions under which states act.54

V.  The Plan of the Book

In the first part of this volume, thinkers from Machiavelli to Hegel are scrutinized
for their answers to questions that deal with the role of law in ordering international
relations, as well as the related concepts of domestic and international law. It proved
difficult if not unfeasible to develop a questionnaire which would fit for all authors.
However, there are eternal questions which guide the interest of a reader with an
international law background. Can there be order in international relations, rest-
ing on law? How does the law of nations relate to a general concept of law?55 Can

49  See the contribution by Dellavalle in this volume.

50 See Martti Koskenniemi, ‘International Law and raison d’état: Rethinking the Prehistory of
International Law’, in Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), The Roman Foundations of
the Law of Nations: Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010), p. 298; David Kennedy, ‘Primitive
Legal Scholarship’, 27 (1986) Harv Int’l L J, 1.
51  Eric J. Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (eds.), The Invention of Tradition (1983).
52  See the contribution by Roth-​Isigkeit in this volume.
53  See the contribution by Heller in this volume.
54  See the contribution by Altwicker in this volume.
55  On Adam’ Smith’s sentimental approach to jurisprudence and how Smith’s idea of sympathetic
law might be applied to the level of international law, see the contribution by Ronge in this volume.
14 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
there be a difference between the ‘is’ and the ‘ought’, and what are the consequences?
Are such tensions resolved by a distinction between different types of law? What is
the force of law as compared to morals and power? Does the respective author think
of his system as eternal, or is it subject to change? Are there principles or general
ideas from which the system derives, such as the reason of state, the maintenance
of peace, self-​perfection or the satisfaction of basic needs? Is the system unitary, or
does ‘difference’ have a role? What is the impact of confrontations of the idea of a
universal system with fundamental differences in religion, culture, social patterns,
or political order?56 Does the concept start from a conception of the individual or
rather from groups or states? How were these theories received in later writings, and
why did later authors refer to them?
The authors discussed in the first part of the book offer a plethora of insights in
this regard. Their ideas can be read as creative blueprints for social, political, and
legal organization of a global society that is not confined to the concept of the state.
One may think of the notion of overlapping plural rule in Althusius’ federalism,
compare it with Montesquieu’s confederate republic,57 and contrast it with Bodin’s
notion of absolute sovereignty. Fichte, to give another example for the innovatory
potential that the reconstructions of the first part offer, does not examine the rela-
tions between states, but focuses on the relationship between citizens of adjacent
states. It is up to the citizens of the adjacent states to decide, in consequence of a
mutual ‘recognition’ to conclude alliances.58
The second part of the book is devoted to horizontal themes that open the oppor-
tunity to test old authorities against present-​day approaches. Their analyses deepen
the understanding of international legal thinking by pointing to often neglected
elements, scrutinizing the knowledge–​creation of the subject as we know it. The
spatiality of law, as the contribution by Duve illustrates, cannot be adequately
understood without taking the technical dimension of cartography into account.
This technical dimension, in turn, relied on both traditional practices and experi-
mental knowledge–​creation.59 García-​Salmones argues in her contribution that the
theological and economic spheres were closely intertwined in the genesis of the
sources doctrine. In particular, the role of experts as an often highlighted and criti-
cized source of international law can be dated back to Vitoria.60
The approaches of the second part are critical in a double way. On the one
hand, they explain how such historical rediscoveries can re-​shape a discipline’s self-​
conception, as Hellmann’s argument on the ‘system of International Relations’
illustrates.61 Or, as the contribution by Bhuta demonstrates, they illustrate the
methodological interdependence between concepts of the state and international

56 With regard to Gentili, see Benedict Kingsbury, ‘Confronting Difference: The Puzzling
Durability of Gentili’s Combination of Pragmatic Pluralism and Normative Judgment’, American
Journal of International Law 92 (1998), 713–​23.
57  See the contribution by Volk in this volume.
58  See the contribution by De Pascale in this volume.
59  See the contribution by Duve in this volume.
60  See the contribution by García Salmones in this volume.
61  See the contribution by Hellmann in this volume.
 Introduction 15

order. How we construct and imagine the state, Bhuta argues, will affect our con-
struction of the international community and vice versa. In this form of critical
reading, the approaches of the second part illustrate how international legal think-
ing is a result of and dependent on historical concepts, methods, and contingencies.
On the other hand, a different reading implicates a meta-​critique of this dis-
course which points to the questions how contingent a history of international
legal thought necessarily is, which path-​dependencies there are, and what a history
of international law that takes such constraints into account should be like.62 This
includes a discussion of methodological categories such as universality and particu-
larity that, in a critical perspective, seem to be increasingly overcome.63
Ultimately, with this project, we try to subvert a methodological category, too.
We aim to show that there is a space for theoretical argument that moves beyond
the dichotomy of construction and critique. This will succeed if it manages to com-
bine the modesty of an observer conscious of their own bias with the imaginative
force of someone who is drawing on the lessons of the past in order to put the pre-
sent in perspective. With this volume, we want to contribute to a growing literature
that constructively tries to resolve the riddle of human sociality through imagining
and theorizing legal and political order beyond the intellectual boundaries of the
nation-​state.
We can learn from the thinkers of the past that such an undertaking must be
both responsive and explorative. It is responsive in that it must react and adapt to
the factual and intellectual context of societal order that it encounters. Moreover,
it is explorative in its attempt to make sense of this context beyond its contingent
existence conditions. Systematizing in this way mediates rather than draws a con-
trast between realism and utopianism. It acknowledges that there is no ideal path of
thought through the contradictions of law beyond the state, avoiding the paralysis
of the perfectionist.
The philosopher Leo Singer, the protagonist in Robert Menasse’s novel Wings of
Stone, animatedly illustrates how such high hopes for an ideal path to the conver-
gence of facts and norms may lead to frustration. He applies the systematic method
to a path of thought, literally understood, trying to find an undisturbed walking
path through his study:
The floor didn’t creak as loudly in some places as in others. Leo paused in irritation. He
knew it. This floor was going to distract him, send his thoughts off in the wrong direction.
He now walked around the room systematically, testing it at every step, rocking on the balls
of his feet so as to determine which were the boards causing the problem, those creaking the
loudest, and where the boards were firm beneath his feet and made little noise or none at all.
He wanted to find the ideal path of thought through this room that he could walk up and
down when he was working without being disturbed in his concentration. After a while he
gave up in despair. There was no negotiable path.64

62  See the contribution by Koskenniemi in this volume.

63  See the contribution by von Bogdandy and Dellavalle in this volume.
64  Robert Menasse, Wings of Stone, trans. David Bryer (2000), pp. 226, 228 (italics by the authors);
original title: ‘Selige Zeiten, brüchige Welt’.
16 Stefan Kadelbach, Thomas Kleinlein, and David Roth-Isigkeit
Faced with these difficulties, Singer never finished his ‘System of Science’.65 In a
similar vein, today’s and the past’s thinkers may have shied away from systematiz-
ing international legal thought because of the intimidating and frustrating task of
finding an ideal path of thought on the creaking boards of the international realm.
Such expectations, we submit, would unduly narrow the perspective. We aim at a
history of international legal thought that takes creaking boards as an incentive for
renovation, rather than despair.

65  Menasse actually wrote the ‘Phenomenology of Despiritualisation’ on behalf of the hero of his novel;
cf. Robert Menasse, Phänomenologie der Entgeisterung -​Geschichte des verschwindenden Wissens (1995).
 PA RT  I
AU T H O R S
 1
Niccolò Machiavelli’s International Legal
Thought: Culture, Contingency, and
Construction
David Roth-​Isigkeit

Perché la cagione della disunione delle repubbliche il più delle volte è l’ozio e la
pace; la cagione della unione è la paura e la guerra.1

There is barely any philosopher in the history of ideas who has been used in so many
different fashions. From political realism to historical materialism or aesthetics, eve-
rything seems to be present in the Renaissance thinker.2 Machiavelli seems to fit in
all shoes, from a ‘handbook for gangsters’ (Bertrand Russell), ‘le docteur de la scéléra-
tesse’ (Frederick the Great), to a sincere Republican (John Pocock) or a balanced plu-
ralist (Isaiah Berlin). In international thought, it was particularly the realist strand of
International Relations scholars who appropriated his vocabulary and celebrated him
as the founding father of empirical political science some hundred years before the
international realm had been conceptualized in legal terms. The so-​called philosopher
of power and violence had not spared many words for law and peace, so that interna-
tional lawyers apparently did not see much reason to engage with his writings.3
This chapter argues that Machiavelli plays an important role in international
legal thought. Machiavelli knew a lot about things today’s international lawyers are

1  Niccolò Machiavelli, Discorsi sopra la prima deca di Tito Livio (1531), Book II, Chapter 25.
English version: Discourses on Livy, trans. Harvey C. Mansfield and Nathan Tarcov (1996), 190. Here
the quote reads: ‘For the cause of the disunion of republics is usually idleness and peace; the cause of
union is fear and war.’ All references in this chapter refer to the English translation.
2  An overview of the seemingly infinite varieties of interpretation can be found in Isaiah Berlin,
‘A Special Supplement:  The Question of Machiavelli’, The New  York Review of Books, November
1971, available in the article archive at <http://​www.nybooks.com/​articles/​1971/​11/​04/​a-​special-​
supplement-​the-​question-​of-​machiavelli/​>.
3 One considerable exception is Anthony D’Amato, ‘International Law from A Machiavellian
Perspective’, in Anthony D’Amato (ed.), International Law Studies, Collected Papers Vol.II (1997),
Chs. 18 and 19, 251–​78. For a recent reconsideration, see Andreas Føllesdal, ‘Machiavelli at 500: From
Cynic to Vigilant Supporter of International Law’, Ratio Iuris 28(2) (2015), 242–​51.

Niccolò Machiavelli’s International Legal Thought – Culture, Contingency and Construction. David Roth-
Isigkeit. © David Roth-Isigkeit, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
20 David Roth-Isigkeit
struggling with, so that the reductionist reading of his scholarship as the counter-​
narrative for international law can be reasonably opposed. The argument will be that
the dominant strand of reception focuses exaggeratedly on the historical context
in which Machiavelli developed his methodological tools. When reconsidered in
an interpretation relying on the unity of his national and international thought,
Machiavelli does not turn out as the imperial thinker of war and unscrupulous vio-
lence. On the contrary, Machiavelli’s progressive focus on the unification of diverse
political communities through the medium of law allows for a reconceptualization
of his contribution. In this light, Machiavelli can be increasingly detached from the
traditional questions of the discipline on the justice or injustice of a ruler’s military
interventions towards a focus on law as culture and as a tool for political construction.
In order to explore Machiavelli’s international legal thought, the chapter starts
with a discussion of the relationship of his biographical events and his social epis-
temology. It proceeds with the relationship of Machiavelli’s concept of law as a
governance tool to the areas of morality and normativity. Ultimately, the focus lies
on his understanding of imperialism and international relations in order to shape
a novel picture of Machiavelli that depicts him as a reasonable historical starting
point for a modern, post-​critical concept of international law.

I.  Niccolò Machiavelli

As with many thinkers’ biographies, Machiavelli’s is of particular relevance for his

political thought.4 He spent his youth in a flourishing Florence under the reign
of the Medici dynasty. Cosimo de’ Medici had established a system of checks and
balances in the Lega Italia through the Peace of Lodi of 1454, a proto-​Westphalian
treaty system that fixed Milan, Florence, and Naples as central actors on the Italian
peninsula.5 These relatively peaceful and stable times lasted for fifty years, during
which Florence dominated the political and economic landscape in Renaissance
Italy. At the age of twenty-​three, Machiavelli had to witness the end of this flourish-
ing period. Lorenzo de’ Medici, Il Magnifico, was more interested in representation
and luxury and neglected to care for the maintenance of the Florentine position
in the diplomatic league.6 After the Hundred Years’ War in France had ended in
1453, and after the conquest of Granada by Spain in 1492, both dynastic pow-
ers were looking for new battlefields, so that it was very welcome that, in 1494,
Milan called the war-​proven French to help in a political conflict with Naples.
The French advanced quickly in Italy and a rebellion drove Lorenzo’s successor,

4 The literature on Machiavelli’s biography is huge. See e.g. Christopher Celenza,

Machiavelli: A Portrait (2015); Joseph Markulin, Machiavelli: A Renaissance Life (2013); Miles Unger,
Machiavelli: A Biography (2012); Maurizio Viroli, Il Sorriso di Niccolò (1998).
5  Kenneth R. Bartlett, A Short History of the Italian Renaissance (2013), pp. 225 ff.
6  Lorenzo’s most significant mistake was a dispute with the Papacy over the Romagna. This led to
the loss of the Medici bank’s control over the finances of the Papacy and, with that, to a considerable
loss of power.
 Niccolò Machiavelli 21

Piero de’ Medici, who had taken sides with Naples, out of Florence. The French
campaign ended shortly after. For the Italian city states, however, which had been
substantially weakened by the invasion by foreign troops, a period of chaos, war,
and revolutions began.
Machiavelli appeared on the political scene out of nowhere. In 1498, at the age
of twenty-​nine, he was elected into a high position in the Florentine government
without having left any traces before in the political landscape. After the fall of the
Medici, the Dominican Savonarola had conducted business with the help of an
ascetic ideology, a dictatorship of god and a total banishment of luxury and vanity.
In a city with a strong bourgeois heritage, this did not go well for long.7 Savonarola
was overturned and Machiavelli, who was also from a bourgeois, albeit poor, origin,
profited from the resulting vacancies in governmental positions in the newly estab-
lished Florentine Republic.
Machiavelli, as Segretario della Repubblica, worked in military and foreign affairs
as a consultant to Piero Soderini, an important member of Florentine government
at the time, who could be called his protector. In this position, which he held until
1512, the year of the breakdown of the Florentine Republic and the return of the
Medici, he was sent on many diplomatic missions, where he developed his thought
in reports to the Signoria. He learned about the advantages of the French absolut-
ist territorial state and the problems of the Holy Roman Empire of the German
Nation, about the real foundation of diplomacy (arms, money, power) and about
the methods of Cesare Borgia, the unscrupulous duke whom he considered suitable
to lead Italy to unity and who is often said to have inspired The Prince. In addition
to his duties as the main diplomat for the Florentine Republic, the later part of his
work was dedicated to a military reform, freeing Florence from the need of merce-
naries by creating a popular army. This enterprise culminated in what Machiavelli
thought of as his greatest achievement when his forces won Pisa back from Venice
in 1509. Three years later, however, his army was desperately outgunned against
the Spanish in Prato, a defeat that allowed the Medici to return. Machiavelli lost
his job and was suspected to have partaken in a conspiracy. He was tortured in the
Florentine prisons, but quickly released after it had transpired that he had nothing
to hide.
After his liberation, he went into exile, beginning his writing career at his coun-
try residence San Casciano.8 Il Principe, his first work, was written in 1513 and
took him less than six months to complete. Machiavelli still hoped that he would
be engaged back in government. These hopes were disappointed, however, and
The Prince was succeeded by the more moderate Discorsi. Only in 1521 was he
engaged as a scholar by Giulio de’ Medici (later, as of 1523, Pope Clement VII),

7  Savonarola’s fate lies at the origin of Machiavelli’s famous description of the ‘unarmed prophet’.
See e.g. Leo Strauss, Thoughts on Machiavelli (1958), pp. 83–​4.
8  It is not more than an anecdote that Carl Schmitt named his residence in North Rhine-​Westphalia
after Machiavelli’s San Casciano. Schmitt sympathized with Machiavelli’s life, which he interpreted as
the fallen genius stuck between changing political developments and ideologies.
22 David Roth-Isigkeit
who requested that Machiavelli write a history of Florence and undertake minor
political missions in his service.
Italy once again became witness to a number of heated battles in 1525, when
conflict between the Habsburg Empire (Charles V) and the French troops esca-
lated. This conflict revitalized Machiavelli for the last time when he put up a plan
for Florentine self-​defence with the help of a popular militia and even managed
to convince the Papacy of his plans. However, the Florentine governor Francesco
Guicciardini cancelled his plan, as the danger of a popular uprising against his gov-
ernment seemed to be too apparent. Instead, Machiavelli was put in charge of the
construction of fortifications, which were, however, never tested, since the troops of
the Empire passed by Florence and marched directly to Rome. This again weakened
the Medici league—​and led to a proclamation of a new Florentine Republic in May
1527. Machiavelli did not experience its fall three years later, since he died only one
month after, on 21 June 1527.

II.  The Political Condition

These biographical events had an important impact on his writing. Machiavelli was
born in a flourishing city state, Florence, which fell into chaos. This is the analyti-
cal precondition of his thought, the internal and external dimensions of national
politics in Florence and Italy. He experienced Florence in an anarchical and in a
stable condition. Preferring the latter, he was convinced that the role of government
is to maintain stability (mantenere lo stato) in the first place. Only a stable domestic
government can provide for the prosperity of a nation. It is highly disputed what
constituted the end of the state for Machiavelli.9 Yet, in all these interpretations it is
internal stability that provides a precondition for its realization.
Instability was thus the most pressing problem of the Italian peninsula. This is
the appeal to Lorenzo in the last chapter of the Prince: ‘Likewise, in order for the
valour and worth of an Italian spirit (virtù, D.R.-​I.) to be recognised, Italy has had
to be reduced to the desperate straits in which it now finds itself: more enslaved than
the Hebrews, more oppressed than the Persians, more scattered than the Athenians,
without an acknowledged leader, and without order or stability, beaten, despoiled,
lacerated, overrun, in short, utterly devastated.’10 Consequently, embedded in the
environment of a fragmented Italy after the French invasion, Machiavelli was con-
cerned with the political conditions that lead to good, enduring government.

9  Interpretations of the end of the state differ greatly. We find the idea of wealth and peace in
Maurizio Viroli, From Politics to Reason of State -​The Acquisition and Transformation of the Language
of Politics, 1250-​1600 (1992); John G. A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment (1975); Justice and
Force in Anthony J. Parel, ‘Machiavelli’s Notions of Justice’, 18 (1990) Political Theory, 530–​6; the
end of the state is expansion for Mikael Hörnquist, Machiavelli and Empire (2004); and Felix Gilbert,
Machiavelli and Guicciardini (1965).
10  Niccolò Machiavelli, Il Principe (1532), Ch. 26. English version The Prince, trans. Quentin
Skinner and Russell Price (1988), p. 88. All references in this chapter refer to the English translation.
 Niccolò Machiavelli 23

Machiavelli operated on the basis of the anthropological assumption that

human nature had not changed in the course of history. In the Discorsi, Machiavelli
writes: ‘Whoever considers present and ancient things easily knows that in all cit-
ies and in all peoples there are the same desires and same humors and have always
been.’11 For Machiavelli, human nature is a steady pursuit of self-​interest that is not
altered by the conditions under which man lives. Closely connected to the assump-
tions about human nature is the cyclical theory of history,12 ‘[a]‌ll things of men are
in motion and cannot stay ready, they must either rise or fall’.13
The interplay of these two main assumptions is complex. On the one hand, the
task of government is to provide for stability; on the other hand, history is always
in motion. The foundation of good government is thus to resist that cyclical course
of history, to maintain government against its eroding forces, the place at which
the famous struggle of fortuna and virtù takes place.14 The question Machiavelli
tries to answer is how to achieve a stable unity given that human nature is a steady
struggle of self-​interested participants. He thereby places the purpose of existence
of the ruler (his normativity, so to speak) outside of himself. When Machiavelli is
concerned with a government that is to endure, he does not merely conceptualize
it from the limited perspective of the self-​interest of the Prince, but more compre-
hensively from a historical situation, a certain status that is to be maintained—​the
stability of order.
Machiavelli’s writings oscillate around the question of how to lead Italy to stabil-
ity, of how to found and to maintain a durable state. The most important aspect
in both of these is the theme of unity. It is only through a concrete unity that a
durable state can be founded and maintained.15 Firstly, this means unification in
the classical, territorial sense, performed by a ruler through political action. That is
the appeal to Lorenzo: ‘liberate Italy from the barbarian yoke’.16 Secondly, however,
for its maintenance, the Prince has to take root in this concrete unity. He needs to
transform the merely territorial unity into a unity of the people who support his
rule. Only by appreciating that these two moments are conceptually divided in
Machiavelli is it possible to understand the complexity of his advice.17 The politi-
cal moment of foundation would inescapably degenerate into tyranny and subse-
quently disintegrate again, were it not grounded in the unity it has just created.

11 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 39, p. 83 (n. 1).

12  See Louis Althusser, Machiavel et Nous, English version Machiavelli and Us, trans. Gregory Elliott
(1999), 36 ff., for illustration.
13 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 6, p. 23 (n. 1).
14 Althusser, Machiavelli and Us, p. 35 (n. 12).
15  This concrete unity is the place where political realist and materialist interpretations of Machiavelli
clash. Establishing and maintaining unity requires effective power, the realist part, and this power can
only be rooted in the people, the materialist (or also republican) development of his thought. This
rather elegant connection between realist and materialist readings is what fascinated Antonio Gramsci
the most. Unity is not only achieved by force, but needs consent, the basic pillars of his concept of
hegemony. See Benedetto Fontana, Hegemony and Power: On the Relationship Between Gramsci and
Machiavelli (1993).
16 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 26, p. 87 (n. 10).
17  Instructive is Althusser, Machiavelli and Us, pp. 64–​6 (n. 12).
24 David Roth-Isigkeit
A government to endure—​that is his answer—​needs to change its character after
its foundation. ‘Therefore, if you want to make a people numerous and armed so
as to be able to make a great Empire, you make it of such a quality that you cannot
manage it in your mode.’18 Whereas the foundation of an order thus always carries
an authoritarian and contingent moment, the political practice must be popular in
order to endure, i.e. oriented towards the people. It is in this second stage where
the concept of law appears explicitly, even though we might draw some interesting
conclusions from the first stage as well.
The language Machiavelli speaks is the language of technique and of statecraft.
He has a scientific style and it is in that regard that he is depicted as the founder of
a whole discipline: empirical political science.19 He wants to find out the technical
laws of governance that allow the Prince to realize the unification of a state. In that
sense, he provides a ‘mirror for princes’, but in a very different style than the usual
piece from the genre, with a particular hostility to metaphysics.20 The roots of his
guidance lie in a particular historico-​empirical method. He admires antiquity and
the Roman thinkers, but not for their thought; rather, he is interested in the descrip-
tion of the historical events themselves, empirical practical examples. Theories are
only a second-​class source. ‘It seems to me better to concentrate on what really hap-
pens rather than theories or speculations.’21 Machiavelli would probably have been
equally sceptical about a book project on the history of international legal thought.
This dry, secular handling of normativity (laws, religion, and ideology) as a tech-
nique makes him a very original thinker and, as he declares in the preface to the
Discorsi, he has ‘decided to take a path as yet untrodden by anyone’.22 Because
human nature is steady, there are scientific laws and techniques governing human
communities. Still, Machiavelli is not neutral about the course of history. Rather,
he distinguishes the normativity of unity from the task of discovering the laws of
history. As Merleau-​Ponty puts it, Machiavelli ‘combines the most acute feeling for
the contingency or irrationality in the world with a taste for the consciousness or
freedom in man.’23

III.  Techniques of Government

Techniques of government are thus always in place to serve the duration of a state,
to establish a connection between the popular roots and stability through produc-
ing a concrete unity. Laws form part of the set of techniques, as do religion and
morality, but also force and violence where necessary. All depends on the political

18 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 6, pp. 21–​2 (n. 1).

19  See e.g. Joseph Femia, Machiavelli Revisited (2004), pp. 45ff.
20  Ibid., pp. 30–​1 (n. 19). Even though Femia’s interpretation of Machiavelli’s scientism seems
convincing, interpreting him as a positivist might go too far.
21 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 15, p. 54 (n. 10).
22 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Preface, p. 5 (n. 1).
23  Maurice Merleau-​Ponty, ‘A Note On Machiavelli’, in Ted Toadvine and Leonard Lawlor (eds.),
The Merleau-​Ponty Reader (2007), pp. 123, 128–​9.
 Niccolò Machiavelli 25

virtù of the Prince, who needs to maintain the concrete unity in order to provide
for stability. This stability requires a set of techniques that realistically deals with the
true nature of the people. ‘It is necessary to whoever disposes a republic and orders
laws in it to presuppose that all men are bad, and that they always have to use the
malignity of their spirit whenever they have free opportunity for it.’24 Through law
and religion, which constitute the most important technical tools of the Prince,
people can be linked to the polity and the political unity gains stability. ‘Therefore
it is said that hunger and poverty make men industrious, and the laws make them
good. Where a thing works well on its own without the law, the law is not necessary;
but when some good custom is lacking, at once the law is necessary.’25 Laws thereby
receive an Aristotelian connotation; they serve to educate the people.26
Laws contribute to this specific unity. Machiavelli does not address simply any
kind of laws. Only laws originating in the political unity itself can foster stability.
Returning to the difference between foundation and duration, this means the fol-
lowing: the founding moment, the establishment of the legal order, is a moment
of solitude for the Prince. He designs the order and for that specific moment rep-
resents the common whole, the political unity. Still, this is a contingent project
dependent on the political virtù in the act of decreeing.27 This is the major theme
in The Prince. Subsequently, however, the Prince has to step back from the centre
by having created an order that is not merely rooted in himself, a tyranny, but to
provide for something that is located in the political unity that has just arisen,
the constituted people. The functioning of this (Republican) order is the theme
of the Discourses. The Prince and the Discourses are thus not as completely unre-
lated or even contradictory as some scholars claim.28 They simply address different
moments in the foundation and the maintenance of a state.
It is necessary that the laws take root outside the Prince’s sphere—​in the sphere
of the people. Laws are a tool to moderate social struggle. In this struggle, some-
thing like a melting pot, laws are the best means to overcome internal disorder by
instituting societal checks and balances. ‘So there is nothing that makes a repub-
lic so stable and steady as to order it in a mode so that those alternating humors
that agitate it can be vented in a way ordered by the laws.’29 One of the short-
comings of the Florentine system was an insufficient legal accountability of the
public administration, because this would constitute a way of how public unrest
could be moderated within the institutional system, thus reducing the danger
of revolt.30 The Prince can also govern by spreading fear or by controlling the

24 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 3, p. 15 (n. 1).

25 Ibid.
26 Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, trans. Terence Irwin (2nd edn, 1999), Book 5, pp. 67 ff. The edu-
cational function of laws is again paradoxical, given the steadiness of human nature.
27  On this general theme, see Miguel E. Vatter, Between Form and Event: Machiavelli’s Theory of
Political Freedom (2000), in particular Part 3, pp. 219 ff.
28  This was still the dominant interpretation for Rousseau and Spinoza, who believed that The Prince
could not be read as anything more than a perfidious satire. See Berlin, The Question of Machiavelli
(n. 2).
29 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 7, p. 24 (n. 1).
30  Ibid., p. 25.
26 David Roth-Isigkeit
people through other kinds of ideology. Governance by laws involves the spreading
of fear by attaching consequences to disobedience. But the distinctive feature of
laws is the potential to balance the societal forces (i.e. the Prince, the nobility, the
people),31 so that these forces are not only neutralized, but also further strengthen
the unity of the state altogether.32
How the Prince uses these different techniques is no question of moral prefer-
ence, but only of political virtù. Everything that serves the internal unity of the
state is an appropriate means to govern.33 In that sense, Machiavelli recognizes
that morals, laws, and religion are merely very specific instruments that operate
through the culturally determined idea of justice. From this angle, he places the
Prince completely outside the normative content of the instruments. But at this
point the perspective is already more complex than simply describing laws as a tool
of governance from the perspective of the ruler. The people have to internalize the
content and perceive it as just in order for these instruments to be effective. And the
Prince has to master different levels of law and normativity. The people will react to
what he does, judging him using the culturally contingent criteria of justice. Were
the Prince openly to disobey his own laws, he would endanger the internal unity of
the state. The people would quickly realize that he does not live up to his promises.
So Machiavelli states in the Discorsi: ‘For I do not believe there is a thing that sets
a more wicked example in a republic than to make a law and not observe it, and so
much the more when it is not observed by him who made it.’34 At the beginning of
Chapter XVIII of The Prince, he adds: ‘Everyone realizes how praiseworthy it is for
a ruler to keep his promises, and live uprightly and not by trickery.’35
However, in the very same chapter, Machiavelli makes clear that the Prince’s
own laws cannot impose constraints on his capacity to act and thus potentially
impede on his political virtù. The law is not binding on him in a moral sense.
On the contrary, the Prince should ‘be prepared [in other translations: “learn”,
D.R.-​I.] to act immorally when this becomes necessary’.36 The Prince can govern
by laws, but his capacity for political action requires that he is able to break the
law: ‘Hence, a prudent ruler cannot and should not respect his word, when such
respect works to his disadvantage and when the reasons for which he made the
promise no longer exist.’37 Later he asserts that a ruler ‘is often forced to act treach-
erously, ruthlessly or inhumanely, and disregard the precepts of religion. Hence,

31 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Chs. 3 and 4, pp. 15–​17 (n. 1).

32  This is the point where the materialist interpretation becomes relevant. According to Althusser,
in the conflict between nobility and the plebs, Machiavelli has a preference for the people. Machiavelli
and Us, p. 59 (n. 12).
33  It is here that the famous ragione di stato becomes clearer in light of the absence of a state as a mod-
ern political construct. Stato does not refer to ‘the State’, but rather to ‘the state’, in the sense of a situ-
ation that is to be maintained. See, in particular, Corrado Vivanti, Niccolò Machiavelli: An Intellectual
Biography, trans. Simon MacMichael (2013), pp. 193–​218, for an appendix that clarifies the different
uses of the word stato in Machiavelli’s language.
34 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 45, p. 93 (n. 1).
35  Ibid., Book I, Ch. 18, p. 61.
36 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 15, p. 55 (n. 10).
37 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 18, p. 61 (n. 1).
 Niccolò Machiavelli 27

he must be prepared to vary his conduct as the winds of fortune and changing
circumstances constrain him’.38
Importantly, however, it is always necessary for the Prince seemingly to have the
quality of keeping his oaths, i.e. moral virtue: ‘Having and cultivating them [moral
virtues, D.R.-​I.] is harmful, whereas seeming to have them is useful.’39 The Prince
has to be a great liar, a hypocrite; he has to pretend to live up to that specific norma-
tivity and pretend to share the aspirations of the people. For Machiavelli, rhetoric is
as important as reality. In its service to the overarching goal of stability, law, religion,
and all other kinds of ideology have to be understood in instrumental terms, i.e. as
what they serve. They thus represent an external perspective on normativity. If the
people realize that the Prince is not part of the law, this will lead to considerable
erosion of their internal perspective to law, morality, and religion. This is the Prince
with a tendency for deception, the amoral ruler. However, as the next section aims
to show, a reading solely from this angle is reductionist.

IV.  Concept of Law

The instrumental–​technical view as presented in the last section is only one dimen-
sion in which Machiavelli captures legal normativity. The claim that Machiavelli
is one of the founders of the realist strand of political science relies almost exclu-
sively on this perspective. Still, merely focusing on this dimension of Machiavelli
misses out an important dimension of his thought. Machiavelli adds a complex
understanding of the nature of legal obligations that relies on an internalization of
the normative content on the side of the legal subjects. Machiavelli thus adds to
the external understanding from the Prince’s perspective—​in which law is a tool
for governance—​a second, internal perspective that explains why the people obey
the laws.
The first aspect in this explanation is one of ideology: the system of ideas that
the Prince represents, which are the good customs to which the people are educated
through laws, religious beliefs, and the unity created through the institutionally
moderated social struggle. The unity is precisely created because the people con-
sent to the order. So far, nothing distinguishes the Prince from Savonarola, the
unarmed prophet from the Florence of Machiavelli’s youth, trying (and failing) to
reign simply with ideological instruments. The ideological instruments (the love of
the people) are unstable since they are external to the Prince: ‘[W]‌hether men bear
affection depends on themselves, but whether they are afraid will depend on what
the ruler does. A wise ruler should rely on what is under his own control, not on
what is under the control of others.’40

38 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 18, p. 62 (n. 10).

39 Ibid.
40  Ibid., pp. 60–​1.
28 David Roth-Isigkeit
Secondly however, the Prince thus needs something originating in himself to
make people obey his laws: fear. The threat that the Prince could always use violent
means to render his government effective is a better back-​up for power than ideol-
ogy. ‘Men are less hesitant about offending or harming a ruler who makes himself
loved than one who inspires fear.’41 Religion further stabilizes a reign since fearing
God’s punishments provides a particularly strong motive for compliance. This com-
bination of the root of stability of an order in ideology and fear (consent backed
up by force) is what inspired Antonio Gramsci in his concept of hegemony.42 It
is the combination of these elements that makes up Machiavelli’s concept of legal
obligation.
Focusing not on the societal structure in which it is embedded, but merely on
the concept of law, some authors read the Machiavellian approach as legal positivist.
Femia writes: ‘[F]‌or Machiavelli, law is an ‘external’ thing; it is not handed down
by God to the mortals made in his immortal image, nor does it derive from moral
purposes that are inherent in human nature.’43 In terms of jurisprudence, this is
very remarkable because Machiavelli’s perspective on law is already more complex
than a merely sanction-​centred positivism as we find it in nineteenth-​century juris-
prudence. Normativity rests on two different pillars: force and the internalization
of the normative content. Here, Machiavelli seems to foreshadow modern theories
of obligation like H. L. A. Hart’s concept of law.44 Naturally, this interpretation has
its limits. Machiavelli would not view law from a scientific, dogmatic angle, and
even though he sometimes calls it ‘system of laws’, there is no clear separation from
morals. This might be intended since there was no apparent necessity to distinguish
between these two forms. Mansfield remarks: ‘Natural law in this form contains no
summum bonum and recommends no particular end or way of life. On the contrary,
being concerned only with the necessary condition of civilization, which is security,
it keeps politics impartial of ends men pursue.’45
Others have claimed that the duality of Machiavelli’s legal thought would make
up for an early theory of constitutional law.46 One might initially be sceptical
towards this interpretation, as Machiavelli would not see law as being constitutive

41 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 18, p. 59 (n. 10).

42  On Gramsci’s relation with Machiavelli, see Fontana, Hegemony and Power (n. 15). For the con-
cept of ‘hegemony’, as applied to International Law, see Andreas Fischer-​Lescano and Sonja Buckel,
‘Gramsci Reconsidered: Hegemony in Global Law’, Leiden Journal of International Law 22(3) (2009),
437–​54.
43 Femia, Machiavelli Revisited, p. 37 (n. 19).
44  Herbert L.A. Hart, The Concept of Law (1961).
45  Harvey C. Mansfield, Machiavelli’s Virtue (1996), p. 104. ‘An impartial natural law does not
favour one regime over another.’
46  Anthony D’Amato, ‘The Relevance of Machiavelli to Contemporary World Politics’, in Anthony
Parel (ed.), The Political Calculus (1972), p. 209. See also Mortimer N. S. Sellers, ‘Niccolò Machiavelli:
Father of Modern Constitutionalism’, 28(2) Ratio Iuris (2015), 216–​25, who describes Machiavelli’s
methodology as a constitutional technique (217–​8): ‘As lawyers studied Roman civil law, and doctors
studied Galen, so Machiavelli set out to draw practical lessons from the study of history to regain the
liberty and virtue of the ancients. […] Machiavelli turned his modern contemporaries to ancient
knowledge and experience as the first step in applying reason to politics.’
 Niccolò Machiavelli 29

for a political community.47 Althusser notes that, in Machiavelli, ‘laws postdate

the beginning of society, postdate government by the most powerful’.48 But even
though the foundation of political society does not resemble a constitutional foun-
dation, there is something important to be found in examining the relationship of
the Prince to the laws. The unity that the laws create has something outside of him;
it is not his unity, not his law. For example, when the Prince acquires new principal-
ities, he must consider the option ‘not to change their laws or impose new taxes’.49
The unity that a legal system provides can also be a resistance for the new Prince
which should not be easily changed when he has not acquired a stable position in
the new principality. So, if the Prince wants to transform the ideology and rule in a
state, he has to start by appreciating the actually existing normative structure.
The relationship of the ruler to the law is thus more complex than merely instru-
mental. The Prince can break the law and, since he is the ultimate instance, there is
no way to prevent him from doing that. But the Prince is not the law; he does not
amend the law by breaking it. It is a self-​standing concept with an independent nor-
mativity. In that sense, it certainly differs from other tools of ideology and explains
certain proximities to constitutional understandings. Religion, for example, stands
completely in the service of the political. Machiavelli acknowledges an existence of
legal normativity outside the ruler. But this is not necessarily desirable. Quite on the
contrary, he observes that if law becomes too technical, this is equally problematic
because it limits the Prince’s capacity for political action, which has to be preserved
at all cost. Laws as well as religion might constitute a dogmatic system. But this
must not constrain the Prince.
Machiavelli thus combines internal and external perspectives to the law in his
theory. The normativity of law is unavailable to the Prince; he cannot use it as he
wishes. Rather, there are constraints to its usage that originate in the peculiarities of
a legal perspective. Still, since the Prince must break the law in some cases, it ulti-
mately seems subordinate to the political logic. But Machiavelli adds yet another
twist to the question of political morality, which adds some additional elements to
the seemingly strictly hierarchical relation of morals and politics.

V.  Morality and Normativity

So far, we have discussed the normativity of political necessity, the political virtù,
and the internal normativity of laws. Law and politics were considered as standing
in a mostly instrumental perspective. Normativity, which constitutes a belief in the
correctness of a practice, as well as fear, have the potential to channel the struggles
of internal disorder and provide for a melting pot of concrete unity. The claims

47  See, for the claim that Machiavelli constructs a constitutional order that unifies strategy and law,
Philipp Bobbitt, The Garments of Court and Palace –​Machiavelli and the World That He Made (2013).
48 Althusser, Machiavelli and Us, p. 36 (n. 12).
49 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 3, p. 8 (n. 10).
30 David Roth-Isigkeit
that Machiavelli is the thinker of unmediated brutality, of which there are some
well-​known examples in The Prince, usually refer to this kind of instrumental rela-
tion between laws, fear, and political practice. Political virtù in this sense is the
capacity for political action and is independent of moral virtue. The independent
thinking of the political is part of Machiavelli’s totalitarian and state-​of-​exception
interpretations.
To this justificatory level of normativity as a matter of necessity, Machiavelli adds
another independent level. Machiavelli is equally concerned with the moral dimen-
sion of action. He says about Romulus, who killed his brother when he founded
Rome: ‘for he who is violent to spoil, not he who is violent to mend, should be
reproved’.50 Violence without purpose is a negative thing. He says: ‘[T]‌here are two
ways for contending: one by using laws, the other, force. The first is appropriate for
man, the second for animals; but because the former is often ineffective, one must
have recourse to the latter.’51 To choose the right technique in the right moment is a
question of ability, of virtù. It is necessity that decides which means are appropriate.
If the situation requires it, the Prince must not hesitate to be an animal. ‘[H]‌e
should imitate both the fox and the lion, for the lion is liable to be trapped, whereas
the fox cannot ward off wolves.’52 Both are animal attributes which rely on vio-
lence, however different in kind they may be. The lion is simply associated with
brute force. But the fox is quite another thing. The interpretation by Althusser cul-
minates precisely in this point. The fox is associated with fraud, a very specific form
of violence. Althusser remarks: ‘Fraud is not a mode of government like the others;
it is not on the same level. Laws exist—​let us say as human institutions, recognized
rules, and opinions; force exists—​let us say as the army. In contrast, however, fraud
possesses no objective existence: it does not exist. If fraud is a way of governing,
given that it has no existence, it can be employed only when it is based on laws or
force.’53 It is thus in principle on three levels that Machiavelli’s Prince operates:
law/​morality, force, and fraud. Althusser explains: ‘Deception is counterposed to
laws as immorality to morality. To engage in ‘trickery’ with the law is, in effect, to
‘get around’ people; it is ‘to load the dice’ by lies and deception.’54
This sheds light on the moral dimension of Machiavelli’s scientific enterprise. The
usage of these different techniques, including fraud, is dependent on concrete neces-
sity. Political virtù at best overlaps with moral virtue, government by laws, since the
necessity for fraud and violence does not arise. The truly virtuous Prince can avoid
recurring on animal attributes by recognizing problems far in advance. Since govern-
ment by laws potentially moderates social conflict, insofar as it never comes to situ-
ations of political necessity, a moral government is Machiavelli’s preferred option.
It is here that the Republican strand of Machiavelli interpretations comes into play.

50 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 9, p. 29 (n. 1).

51 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 18, p. 61 (n. 10).
52 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 18, 61 (n. 1).
53 Althusser, Machiavelli and Us, p. 95 (n. 12).
54  Ibid., p. 96.
 Niccolò Machiavelli 31

A stable order, rooted in checks and balances between the people, avoids violent
governance.
Yet, there is a remarkable antithesis to this interpretation, brought forward by
Merleau-​Ponty in his short Note on Machiavelli: ‘The evil that I do I do to myself,
and in struggling against others I  struggle equally against myself. […] And yet
when the victim admits defeat, the cruel man perceives another life beating through
those words; he finds himself before another himself. We are far from the relation-
ships of sheer force that hold between objects.’55 According to this interpretation,
the transition from following animal instincts to human life involves a transforma-
tion of the character of violence. Merleau-​Ponty continues: ‘[W]‌e have gone from
one way of fighting to another, from ‘fighting with force’ to ‘fighting with laws’.
Human combat is different from animal combat, but it is a fight.’56 What this
brings into play is the next level of the negation. According to Merleau-​Ponty, the
self-​reflective element of morality sheds a cynical light on the struggle of a civiliza-
tion that is caught between necessity and violence against itself. It is here that one
comes to understand the diversity of interpretations of Machiavelli: There are seem-
ingly infinite opportunities to uncover further layers in his thought. What is certain
is that the open structure of his texts allows for interpretations in which it is finally
difficult to say where Machiavelli’s part in them remains.57

VI. Imperialism

The focus of the argument so far has been on his domestic political philosophy
in the light of laws and normativity, always based on a concrete unity to bring
about the stability of a political body. Interestingly, the same considerations lead
Machiavelli to argue for a completely different conception in the international
realm. For Machiavelli, as Koskenniemi notes, ‘the ‘international’ did not have any
specific identity as a field of politics or as a set of problems; it was either a potential
target of imperial policy or it was a source of threat—​that is to say, the imperial
policies of other states’.58 Not moderate republican thought, but aggressive impe-
rial politics are at the heart of his international thinking. The basic situation in the
international realm is similar: a proto-​Hobbesian view of constant conflict. But
whereas in the domestic sphere it is possible to pacify this conflict via institutions
of checks and balances that are ultimately rooted in a unity that is created by these
institutions, we cannot find such prospects for a concrete unity between states (or
kingdoms, to be precise). What Machiavelli said about the Republican organiza-
tion of a unity with the help of laws is thus unthinkable in the international realm.

55  Merleau-​Ponty, Note on Machiavelli, pp. 123–​4 (n. 23).

56 Ibid.
57 Bobbitt, The Garments of Court and Palace (n. 47), calls this the ‘Machiavelli Paradox’.
58  Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Not Excepting the Iroquois Themselves… –​Machiavelli, Pufendorf and
the Prehistory of International Law’, Max Weber Lecture No. 2007/​07 at the European University
Institute, Florence, available at <http://​cadmus.eui.eu/​handle/​1814/​7632?show=full>, p. 9.
32 David Roth-Isigkeit
Bearing in mind the necessity for stability, this leads to a series of considerations
that are all interlinked and mutually conditional. (1) Aggressive imperial politics
make a country less vulnerable on the outside and facilitate stability. (2) Acquired
principalities enlarge the unity on which the power of the Prince is based and fur-
ther ameliorate stability. (3) The use and forming of a popular army also contributes
to stability on the inside and facilitates the incorporation of new principalities.
(4) Domestic politics shall be conducted in order to allow for aggressive foreign pol-
itics; the organization on the inside must provide the means for external conquest.
Machiavelli’s international thinking is thus coherent with his domestic thinking
regarding the main quest: how is it possible to stabilize an order?
In his preference for aggressive foreign policy, we find an attitude that is typical
for Machiavelli: always act, never react. Aggression places the Prince on the side of
action, making outcomes more predictable. When international relations are a con-
stant struggle for survival, it is better to be a belligerent state. Additionally, with the
help of conquest, the Prince might acquire territories that can be incorporated into
his own empire. If it is possible (and according to Machiavelli it must be possible) to
integrate the new principality into the concrete unity of his own Empire, this will
improve its power and therefore increase stability.
Machiavelli discusses another precondition for stability as one of the most
important elements in the Prince: the theory of the popular army. First, he makes
clear that mercenaries are either useless, when they fight for money and are unwill-
ing to give their lives on the battlefield, or even dangerous because they might
turn against the Prince.59 The same holds true for auxiliary troops that belong to
another ruler—​to rely on these groups means to relinquish one’s own destiny—​
something one should never do.60 His considerations here are obviously influenced
by the Italian experience. A popular army, in turn, is recruited from the peasantry.
In the structure of the army, infantrymen have the primacy over the cavalry.61 In
Althusser’s Marxist interpretation, this ‘initiates a process of social and political
amalgamation that simultaneously challenges the hierarchies sanctioned by the feu-
dal order and its military organization. Not only does the lofty reign of the cavalry-
man come to an end, but a new form of popular unity, hitherto non-​existent, takes
shape: in the army common to them, the men of the towns and countryside begin
to become—​learn to become—​one and the same people.’62 In that sense, the army
is not only an important means to external stability. Rather, by ensuring internal
societal cohesion the army constitutes also an end in itself.
In domestic politics, it is thus also important to constitute a strong state that is
capable of expanding.63 Machiavelli discusses the question of inclusiveness in the

59 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 17, p. 43 (n. 10).

60  Ibid., Ch. 18, p. 48.
61  Harvey C. Mansfield, Machiavelli’s New Modes and Orders (1979), pp. 245–​6.
62 Althusser, Machiavelli and Us, p. 87 (n. 12).
63  See also Herfried Münkler, ‘Der Imperativ expansiver Selbsterhaltung’, in Herfried Münkler
et al. (eds.), Demaskierung der Macht –​Machiavellis Staats-​und Politikverständnis (2nd edn, 2013),
p. 111.
 Niccolò Machiavelli 33

Discourses under the heading of ‘whether a state could have been ordered in Rome
that would have taken away the enmities between the people and the senate’.64
Machiavelli explains that there were two types of government in history that were
able to contain that internal struggle. In Venice, the stability rested on the principle
of inherited citizenship, an exclusionary form of government. Similarly, in Sparta,
only a few citizens were in charge of public affairs, and no strangers were welcome
in the state. So, Machiavelli continues: ‘[I]‌t was necessary for the legislators of Rome
to do one of two things if they wished Rome to stay quiet like the above-​mentioned
republics: either not to employ the plebs in war, as did the Venetians, or not to open
the door to foreigners, as did the Spartans. They did both, which gave the plebs
strength and increase and infinite opportunities for tumult.’65 In explaining why the
Romans did that, Machiavelli argues that a strong Empire, an Empire that wishes to
expand, needs to ground itself on an inclusive unity because ‘if you maintain it [the
people] either small or disarmed so as to be able to manage it, then if you acquire
dominion, you cannot hold it or it becomes so cowardly that you are the prey of
whoever assaults you.’66 One might choose the path of government of elites, but this
way of government is doomed to fail. Domestically, it is thus important that the gov-
ernment be as inclusive as possible to ensure the popular grounding of state power.
All these considerations point to a conception of other peoples that is not coined
by respect and toleration. Still, Machiavelli’s plea for imperialism can be clearly
distinguished from others. That his imperialism does not have a nationalistic con-
notation, in the sense of superiority of its own people, is revealed when Machiavelli
talks about the incorporation of conquered colonies. The people of the new colony
have to accept the lead culture of its own national state because this is the only way
they can be incorporated into the larger unity of the state. This cultural unity of
the larger (and more powerful) entity, in turn, provides the basis for a more stable
empire. In that sense, expansion is a precondition for stability. The people as a
concrete foundation thus always have to consist of those people who embody the
specific unity of the polity. Other people(s) are not part of Machiavelli’s philoso-
phy. What makes this conception interesting is that, even though Machiavelli does
not have a conception of universal normativity based on intrinsic human value,
he is not discriminating against potential members of the unity of the Empire.
Normatively speaking, it is a very specific universality based on cultural facts—​the
acceptance of being part of a cultural (ideological) community.

VII.  International Law
The role of international law in this proto-​Hobbesian struggle for survival is com-
plicated. Yet, Machiavelli had spent too many years working as a diplomat to be

64 Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy, Book I, Ch. 6, p. 20 (n. 1).

65  Ibid., p. 21.
66  Ibid., p. 22.
34 David Roth-Isigkeit
able to ignore it. Diplomatic agreements constitute an important part of the inter-
governmental world, but there was no way to see them as a kind of system that con-
strained governments from doing whatever they wished. Order was not maintained
by legal checks and balances, but by two Princes who had more to lose than to gain
when they put their threats into action.67 In that sense, Koskenniemi notes that
Machiavelli did not hold a ‘view of the international as a single social space (“uni-
versal”), detachable from the ambition or fear of this or that ruler’.68
In this struggle, diplomatic agreements could potentially provide for a tempo-
rally limited stability, if your competitors believe you will stick to them. However,
from the ruler’s perspective, the Prince must not be constrained. Machiavelli makes
that clear when he talks about the role of auxiliaries in military conflicts. With aux-
iliaries, another ruler’s troops who aid you in conflict, you will always lose. If they
are defeated, so are you, and if they win, they might turn against you.69 ‘In short,
weapons and armour belonging to others fall off you or weigh you down or con-
strict your movements.’70 Diplomatic agreements must not constrain the Prince’s
capacity for political action.
Seen from this angle, diplomatic agreements that today undoubtedly form part
of international law thus did not receive the status of law as compared to the domes-
tic realm. As explained above, domestic law, for Machiavelli, is quite a modern
concept that grounds its normativity first and foremost in the concrete unity it
creates—​the people. Since diplomatic agreements could never be grounded in a
popular unity, they did not form part of that specific, law-​inherent normativity.71
There was nothing like a moral argument to stick to treaties, no pacta sunt servanda
in the international realm. Returning to Machiavelli’s metaphor about the fox and
the lion stated above, there is nothing normative that would prevent fraud and fox-​
like behaviour between states. Rather, in the struggle for survival, it would be smart
to employ these techniques. In this sense, a highly moral domestic political theory
turns into an amoral survival strategy in foreign politics.
It has been claimed—​inter alia by Koskenniemi—​that, foreshadowing discus-
sions of later international lawyers, Machiavelli offers a certain perspective on a just
war also being a matter of necessity. A just war would be war linked to the preserva-
tion and advancement of the state.72 In fact, Machiavelli’s view on the necessity of
war is much more complex. Necessity depends on the underlying aims for which
achieving one or the other action is deemed necessary. The problem of the neces-
sary war thus already emerges in contrast to the question whether peace is a desir-
able state. This question has already been controversially debated among several
authors. While Felix Gilbert argues that there is nothing in Machiavelli pointing

67  See also Koskenniemi, ‘Not Excepting the Iroquois’ (n. 58), who discusses Machiavelli in opposi-
tion to Guicciardini.
68  Koskenniemi, ‘Not Excepting the Iroquois’, pp. 9–​10 (n. 58).
69 Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. 13, p. 48 (n. 10).
70  Ibid., p. 50.
71  D’Amato seems to have overlooked this in qualifying diplomacy as legal in Machiavelli’s sense.
See D’Amato, ‘The Relevance of Machiavelli’ (n. 46).
72  Koskenniemi, ‘Not Excepting the Iroquois’, p. 11 (n. 58).
 Niccolò Machiavelli 35

to the desirability of peace,73 others, like Maurizio Viroli, argue that Machiavelli
deals with war and international affairs just in order to replace the art of war with
the ‘arts of peace’.74 Given that the latter point seems more convincing in the light
of what has just been discussed, it is important how Machiavelli uses the concept
of necessity.
Anthony Parel suggests that, for Machiavelli, necessity is a normative concept
against which actions have to be measured. However, he notes that, due to its sub-
jectivity, the concept of necessity would be unsuitable to assess a ruler’s actions and
promote abuse.75 The reason for which one might be sceptical about this reading
is the placement of the concept of necessity outside the ruler himself. It is against
an abstract normative concept that his actions would have to be assessed. However,
for Machiavelli, necessity is not a concept outside the ruler; it is closely connected
with the political virtue that can be assessed only in the light of the results of the
Prince’s actions.
Returning to Koskenniemi’s suggestion, it is no accident that Machiavelli does
not talk about the question of justice in war. The reason why it might be question-
able to interpret and categorize Machiavelli’s view on foreign politics as inhabiting
a perspective on the normativity of war leads back to the important distinction of
domestic and foreign politics. The normativity of order, and with it the negative
connotation of fraud, arises with the background of a concrete unity against which
it can be measured. Since the international realm does not constitute a concrete
unity, there is no reason—​neither in Machiavelli’s oeuvre nor in a teleological inter-
pretation of his thought—​that Machiavelli would even consider applying a notion
of justice to the question of war. The necessity of justification of war does not
arise against the potential opponent ruler, but only as a foreshadowing of possible
effects on the own political community, the only entity against which normativity
could arise.
In theoretical terms, after having rejected the purely political realist inter-
pretation of Machiavelli in the domestic realm, we return to that strand in the
international. However, we arrive there as the result of a negation, the impos-
sibility to ground international rule in a concrete unity. Machiavelli’s theory
transposed to the international realm thus constitutes political realism condi-
tioned upon the absence of (ideal, ideological) unity. While it can only be appro-
priately understood (and taken as potentially visionary) if it is read against his
domestic political philosophy, there is no reason to whitewash his imperialism,
which recognizes others (or other peoples) only as part of the cultural circle to
which the concept of justice extends when they are assimilated. However, it is a
different and strangely visionary cultural imperialism that provides emancipa-
tory perspectives.

73  Felix Gilbert, ‘Machiavelli: The Renaissance of the Art of War’, in Peter Paret et al. (eds.), Makers
of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age (1986), pp. 11–​31.
74 Viroli, From Politics to Reason of State, p.164 (n. 9).
75 Parel, Machiavelli’s Notion of Justice, p. 535 (n. 9).
36 David Roth-Isigkeit

VIII.  Perspectives—​Is Machiavelli a Part of the History

of International Legal Thought?

Machiavelli was not an international lawyer. He did not believe in the traditional
story of a consent-​based law to provide order in the international sphere. This con-
tribution has tried to shed light on the question why that is the case and why a
thinker who is considered Republican, even a democrat, has a perspective focused
on imperial foreign policy in a condition of war. In traditional readings, Machiavelli
could not be a part of the history of international legal thought. Machiavelli does
away with any consent-​based myths—​one of the reasons why he is admired by
some International Relations theorists. The mere existence of laws cannot guar-
antee stability. But the international law Machiavelli is interested in is a different
one—​it is one that works with assumptions of inclusiveness and takes into account
its cultural and contingent origins not merely as a blueprint for delegitimation, but
as an important precondition for global peace and stability. Including Machiavelli
in a history of international legal thought highlights the emancipation from theo-
ries of consensual normativity and from merely critical readings of history.
The study of Machiavelli reveals that the conditions that could potentially bring
about a stable rule in the domestic realm—​the possibility to ground the rule in a
very concrete unity and an ideologically coherent people—​are completely absent
in the international field. In terms of the empirical assessment of Renaissance Italy,
this is undoubtedly correct. How should a non-​naturalistic normativity conception
possibly arise if there was no way to connect it with a concrete unity? In his assess-
ment of the international world at his time, Machiavelli has a point.
Thinking about perspectives, speculative as this might be, Machiavelli’s think-
ing gives some ideas about the world as it looks today. In contrast to Renaissance
Italy, the world is not in constant war anymore; one is not either aggressive or con-
quered. Machiavelli’s historical condition might have vanished, but his theoretical
contribution is recent. If we recall his central claims about stability, unity, and the
people, these are precisely the discussions prevalent in normative international law
scholarship today. It is quite possible to understand the concept of the international
community as a combination of these claims. Machiavelli tells us that what uni-
fies people is ideology, laws, and religion.76 Human Rights, the secular religion
of today, could potentially bring about a concrete unity in Machiavelli’s sense. It
might be that Machiavelli had endorsed its vocabulary, had he known it, but cer-
tainly he would have supported the enterprise of conquering the world in the name
of liberty.77

76  As the contribution by Christian Volk, The Law of Nations as the Civil Law of the World, in
this volume, p. 243, shows, there are considerable similarities to the international legal thought of
Montesquieu. Similarly, as Carla De Pascale, Fichte and the Echo of his Internationalist Thinking in
Romanticism, in this volume, pp. 342–3, claims, these elements enjoy a considerable status in Fichte’s
thought.
77  See also the closing words by Hörnquist, Machiavelli and Empire, p. 290 (n. 9).
 Niccolò Machiavelli 37

In less concrete terms, I have discussed Machiavelli as a theorist of two distinct

moments. The contingent beginning is followed by a rule that has to be grounded
in the very unity it has constituted. International law thus could potentially develop
into that normative concept if its ideology produces a sufficient degree of concrete
unity to shift the level of political action from the national to the international
realm, an organic constitutionalism somehow. Two things can make us believe that
Machiavelli would have shared this idea: first, Machiavelli is a thinker of empirical
assessment, who teaches the Prince the capacity to adequately react to the actual
situation. Second, Machiavelli is the thinker of the beginning of a political commu-
nity when its unity is yet to be achieved.78 It is the political theory of a foundation
of a community. In many ways, in international thinking, Machiavelli provides a
starting point.

Selected Bibliography
Althusser, Louis, Machiavelli and Us, trans. Gregory Elliott (London/​New York: Verso, 1999).
Bobbitt, Philipp, The Garments of Court and Palace –​Machiavelli and the World That He
Made (New York: Grove Press, 2013).
D’Amato, Anthony, ‘International Law from A Machiavellian Perspective’, in Anthony
D’Amato (ed.), International Law Studies, Collected Papers Vol.II (The Hague: Kluwer
Law, 1997), Chs, 18 and 19, 251–​78.
Machiavelli, Niccolò, Discourses on Livy, trans. Harvey C. Mansfield and Nathan Tarcov
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996).
Machiavelli, Niccolò, The Prince, trans. Quentin Skinner and Russell Price
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988).
Koskenniemi, Martti, ‘Not Excepting the Iroquois Themselves … –​Machiavelli, Pufendorf
and the Prehistory of International Law’, Max Weber Lecture No. 2007/​07 at the
European University Institute, Florence, available at <http://​cadmus.eui.eu/​handle/​
1814/​7632?show=full>.

78  This element of foundation is similarly present in the international legal thought of Rousseau.
See, Jonas Heller, Orders in Disorder –​The Question of an International State of Nature in Hobbes and
Rousseau, in this volume, pp. 160–82.
 2
Francisco de Vitoria
A Redesign of Global Order on the Threshold
of the Middle Ages to Modern Times

Kirstin Bunge

I.  Introduction: The ‘School of Salamanca’

and Francisco de Vitoria

In the late nineteenth century, the origin of international law was often associated
with a group of Spanish and Portuguese theologians who adapted the Catholic theory
of Natural Law to the altered political, economic, and pastoral conditions of the
sixteenth century.* After the so-​called ‘discovery’ and conquest of Central and South
America, Europeans faced the challenge of having to revise their worldview. Part of
this meant having to deal with the existence of unfamiliar yet long-​standing politi-
cal communities. The contours of the world as they had hitherto been known were
abruptly expanded. From a western viewpoint, these geopolitical transformations
resulted in a new regulation of power spheres as well as in the need to justify domin-
ion. The prevalent concept of law, which still operated within scholastic terms of a
God-​given order, composed of divine, natural, and human law, had to be adapted to
the altered knowledge about the world. Simultaneously, a new form of ‘inter-​national’
law, which regulated the relationship between political communities, slowly emerged.
Because he had reformulated the Institutiones-​definition of jus gentium from
‘inter omnes homines’ to ‘inter omnes gentes’1 the Dominican Francisco de Vitoria
(1492/​93–​1546), professor of theology at the University of Salamanca, is known
as one of the founding fathers of the so-​called ‘School of Salamanca’. Although
he never left Europe to see America—​or as the Milanese humanist Petrus Martyr
called it, the ‘New World’2—​Vitoria is particularly noted for his rather critical

*  I would like to thank Ursula Diewald Rodriguez for proofreading this chapter. Unless otherwise
specified, translations into English by the author.
1  Francisco de Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 1, nu. 1, in Ulrich Horst et al. (eds.), Vorlesungen II,
(1997), p. 460. See also Section III, cycles of reception.
2  See Anthony Pagden, Das erfundene Amerika. Der Aufbruch des europäischen Denkens in die Neue
Welt (1996), p. 284, n. 11.

Francisco de Vitoria: A Redesign of Global Order on the Threshold of the Middle Ages to Modern Times.
Kirstin Bunge. © Kirstin Bunge, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
 Francisco de Vitoria 39

but ambivalent examinations of the Spanish Conquest and his contribution to the
formation of international law. The ‘School of Salamanca’ cannot be considered a
school in the narrow sense of a closed, cohesive theoretical system. But the repre-
sentatives of this Iberian moral–​theological tradition did share various consisten-
cies and similarities. This chapter will explicate four of these similarities in order
to give an impression of the methodology and the social-​political context. It will
subsequently concentrate on Vitoria’s approach to jus gentium and conditions of
legitimacy in the international realm.
First of all, these theologians (and later jurists) were confronted with deeply
changing political and academic conditions. Medieval scholastics had already been
forced to deal with the rediscovered and translated writings of Greco–​Arabic phi-
losophy and science, i.e. a comprehensive worldview based solely on human reason.
This resulted in increased research activity in the field of logic, metaphysics, natural
theology, and natural ethics. On these medieval groundings, the theologians of the
sixteenth century had then to integrate formerly unknown foreign cultures into
their conceptions of the world, i.e. into their conception of order. They thus had
to reconcile their mindset, which was based on Christian revelation, with the fact
that there were complex political communities in existence that had never before
heard the Gospel.
Secondly, the representatives of the ‘School of Salamanca’ were methodologically
dedicated to the medieval reception of Aristotle and conducted an inner-​Catholic
revision of the tradition.3 Consequently, not only did they attempt to replicate the
medieval findings but they also sought to reconstruct them with special regard to
the transforming political, social, and economic conditions of their time. Closely
linked with Vitoria’s way of thought is Thomas Aquinas, whose work he had
become acquainted with during his studies in Paris and whose Summa Theologiae he
subsequently introduced at the University of Salamanca as the standard textbook,
thereby replacing the Sententiae by Petrus Lombardus.4
During the course of this remapping and new configuration of periphery, there
was, thirdly, a loosening of the strong interrelation between philosophical, theolo-
gian, and juridical approaches. As a theologian Vitoria was still dealing with ques-
tions about legitimacy of conquest, colonization, and property but only within the
conceptual context of dogmatic theologian presumptions (e.g. about God’s potestas
or a post-​lapsarian anthropology) as well as philosophical issues like questions of
coherence, of non-​contradiction, or of logical reasoning. Correspondingly, the rela-
tion between religious and secular spheres, the reliability of knowledge sources,5

3  This concerned, for example, the canonistic teachings of papal supremacy and its relation to secu-
lar power. See in reference to the relationship between the ‘School of Salamanca’ and the Reformation
Merio Scattola, ‘Eine innerkonfessionelle Debatte. Wie die Spanische Spätscholastik die politische
Theologie des Mittelalters mit der Hilfe des Aristoteles revidierte’, in Alexander Fidora, Johannes Fried,
Matthias Lutz-​Bachmann, and Luise Schorn-​Schütte (eds.), Politischer Aristotelismus und Religion in
Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit (2007), pp. 139–​61.
4  For a short overview of the methodological reasons to change, see Kurt Seelmann, ‘Theologische
Wurzeln des säkularen Naturrechts. Das Beispiel Salamanca’, in Dietmar Willoweit (ed.), Die
Begründung des Rechts als historisches Problem (2000), pp. 216f.
5  Cf. probabilism and casuistry.
40 Kirstin Bunge
and instruments of power6 were re-​assessed. Furthermore, in Europe (albeit on the
Iberian Peninsula to a lesser degree) the Reformation gained in importance and one
could already observe early attempts at secularization.
Finally, radical and global transformations took place in the political and eco-
nomic sphere. Humanism rediscovered republican values and new visions of poli-
tics in the form of early modern centralized nations competed with old ones such
as the empire (regnum/​imperium) and, in a specific way, with papacy (sacerdotium).
On a national level, the first ‘states’ with a centralized use of force and fiscal system
replaced the multitude of small dominions loosely associated with the feudal sys-
tem of the medieval age. Under the terms of the emerging early modern states and
Europe’s striving for expansion, the economy expanded and the web of colonial
trade and transport routes intensified. By the sixteenth century, the foundations for
a conglomerate of national stakeholders or of stakeholders acting under the author-
ity of a state (as for example Grotius’ Dutch East India Company) came into being.7

II.  Moral Theology and Jurisprudence

1. The Hierarchy of leges and the order of jus naturale,

jus gentium, and jus positivum
Following these short introductive remarks about central similarities concerning
the methodological approach of the ‘School of Salamanca’ to the altered condi-
tions of the sixteenth century, the second section deals with Vitoria’s conception of
leges-​order and its theological presuppositions that underlie these early beginnings
of international law.8 Which conception of order can cope, according to Vitoria,
with the radical anthropological, political, social, and economic transformations?
In reference to Aristotle, Vitoria assumed a natural order which exists inherently
and which can be determined by reason. Based on this idea, ‘all natural things are
in themselves and, vice versa, all things are necessary by themselves’.9 Accordingly,
the jus naturale represents ‘law in and of itself ’.10 Nevertheless, enclosed in this
natural fixed framework there are various degrees (gradus) of necessity to be distin-
guished. Depending on the ‘quality of the object’,11 these degrees vary from logical

6  Consider, for instance, the doctrine of the Two-​Swords, the teachings of papal vs. imperial world
domination.
7  Cf. some of the stakeholders of the early European colonial system which had been founded
between 1600 and 1786 to exploit Asian commodities:  British East India Company, Dutch East
India Company, Danish West India Company, Dutch West India Company, Portuguese East India
Company, French East India Company, Swedish East India Company, and Swedish West India
Company. See also Glenn J. Ames, The Globe Encompassed: The Age of European Discovery, 1500–​1700
(2008); and Wilhelm G. Grewe, Epochen der Völkerrechtsgeschichte (1984), pp. 341–​53.
8  Kurt Seelmann, Theologie und Jurisprudenz an der Schwelle zur Moderne: Die Geburt des neuzeitli-
chen Naturrechts in der iberischen Spätscholastik (1997).
9 Vitoria, De iustitia I, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, Joachim Stüben ed. (2013), p. 20: ‘omne naturale est de
per se et econtra omne de per se est necessarium’.
10 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20: ‘per se est jus et ex se’.
11 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20: ‘qualitatem materiae’.
 Francisco de Vitoria 41

reasoning, like in mathematics in which ‘the opposite implies a contradiction’,12

to natural things whose ‘necessity is lesser’.13 Vitoria referred to the triangle to give
an example of the highest degree of necessity, in this case complying with the logi-
cal requirement for consistency. The general definition of the triangle implies that
even the potestas of God as creator of everything could not change the nature of the
triangle.
Deus enim non potest facere, quod triangulus non habeat tres angulos.14
Ernst-​Wolfgang Böckenförde thus considers Vitoria`s approach to be between
‘absolute necessity of nature and radical contingency which enables fortuity’.15
Although Böckenförde points out certain discrepancies in the way Vitoria tried to
combine Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus, according to Vitoria, ‘on the level of
God’ there are no limits.
Vitoria modifies the concept of necessity. Unlike Duns Scotus, he understands it not as
universal and absolute, thus also applying to God himself, but as a necessity that is inher-
ent to creature (immanent to creation) and that does not exclude a pre-​creational freedom
of God. According to Vitoria, the necessitas thus exists (only) de potentia dei ordinata, as an
emanation of ordering-​ordered action of God, not de potentia dei absoluta. As a creation-​
inherent order (necessitas naturalis) it presents itself at the level of the human being, who is
himself a part of that creation, as an absolute, predefined, and untangible condition. This
order constitutes the point of departure for all human knowledge and action. On the level
of God, however, the Creator is not necessarily bond to it.16
By contrast, among the realm of natural things, as for example the physical nature
of humans, there is a multiplicity of variations.17 For instance, the human being
is mainly characterized by rationality (rationalitas), but the ‘ability to laugh (risi-
bilitas)’ also adheres to the natural qualities of humans (‘per se homini adhaeret’),
although not to the same degree of necessity as cognition.18

12 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20: ‘implicat contradictionem oppositum’.

13 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20: ‘non est tanta necessitas in naturalibus’.
14 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20.
15 ‘absoluter Naturnotwendigkeit und radikaler, der Zufälligkeit Raum gebender Kontingenz’.
Böckenförde, ‘§ 14 Die spanische Spätscholastik, II. Francisco de Vitoria’, in idem, Geschichte der
Rechts-​und Staatsphilosophie. Antike und Mittelalter, p. 348.
16  ‘Vitoria modifiziert den Begriff der necessitas. Er versteht ihn, anders als Duns Scotus, nicht
als eine universale und absolute, also auch im Blick auf Gott selbst geltende, sondern als eine inner-
geschöpfliche (schöpfungsimmanente) Notwendigkeit, die eine vor-​geschöpfliche Freiheit Gottes
nicht ausschließt. Die necessitas besteht daher bei ihm (nur) de potentia dei ordinata, als Ausfluß des
ordnend-​geordneten Handelns Gottes, nicht de potentia dei absoluta. Als der Schöpfung eingestiftete
Ordnung (necessitas naturalis) ist sie von der Ebene des Menschen aus, der selbst Teil dieser Schöpfung
ist, eine absolute, ihm vorgegebene und für ihn nicht verfügbare. Er hat sie zum Ausgangspunkt seines
Erkennens und Handelns zu machen. Auf der Ebene Gottes aber besteht für den Schöpfer nicht in
jedem Fall eine Bindung daran.’ Böckenförde, ‘§ 14 Die spanische Spätscholastik, II. Francisco de
Vitoria’, p. 348.
17  Cf. Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20: ‘(…) ut v.g. necessarium est, quod homo
respiret, quod habeat duos oculos, duos pedes et quod sol oriatur cras. Et tamen Deus posset facere
contrarium, scilicet quod esset homo et non respiret nec habeat oculos nec pedes et quod sol non
oriatur cras.’
18 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20.
42 Kirstin Bunge
In what way is this distinction between degrees of necessity relevant to the rela-
tion between jus naturale and jus gentium? Vitoria distinguished several degrees
to which norms and principles could be derived from jus naturale to create posi-
tive law. Jus naturale is valid because it is inherently rational and not by virtue of
the means of its formation. In contrast, jus gentium is not valid ‘by itself but due
to human statutes based on reason’.19 This means that jus gentium results from
communis consensus omnium gentium et nationum analogous to jus positivum which
relies on ‘private pact and agreement and (…) public pact’.20 This ‘consensus of
all people and nations’ emerges from the pactum of men who have formed various
political and social entities. Jus gentium did not originate from the agreement of
single humans (like in early modern theories of social contract) but ‘by the author-
ity of the whole world’.21 Regardless of existing differences between the peoples and
the nations, all are subject to jus gentium.
Furthermore, because it is not jus in the sense of jus naturale ‘per se (…) et
ex se’,22 the validity of jus gentium is measured according to the degree to which
peace is (re-​) established and war is restricted. Even the perpetuation of jus naturale
depends on jus gentium to preserve the peace. Jus positivum sets standards relative to
something other, standards of an adequate and not commensurable23 natural order.
Positive law proceeds ‘adequate to another in ordination to other (alteri adaequa-
tum in ordine ad aliud)’.24
What does this differentiation between a commensurable and an adequate order
signify? It seems that Vitoria wants to add another legal order to the stable, unal-
terable, and commensurable natural order of jus naturale. This second concept of
order is valid insofar as it is adequate, i.e. relative to a politically determined crite-
rion. Because the order of natural law implies an idea of peace,25 albeit in a general
and rather undesignated manner, it is necessary to concretize it positively. In order
to preserve the peace according to jus naturale, jus gentium mediates between the
necessary order of jus naturale and the order of positive law with its specific arbi-
trariness.26 This specific nature of jus gentium is reflected in several institutions such
as property, the legal status of legates or ambassadors, the rules of warfare,27 etc. It
represents a concept of peace promoting trade and proselytization.

19 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘non est aequum ex se, sed ex statuto humano in
ratione fixo.’
20 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 3, p. 36: ‘ex privato pacto et consensu et (…) pacto publico’.
21 Vitoria, De potestate civili, nu. 21, in (ed.) Ulrich Horst et al. Vorlesungen I, (1995), p. 156: ‘est
enim latum totius orbis auctoritate’.
22 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 3, p. 20.
23 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘Ius naturale est, quod ex natura sua est alteri com-
mensuratum. (…) Illud, quod primo modo est adaequatum et absolute iustum, vocatur jus naturale,
id est de iure naturali.’
24 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32.
25 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 3, p. 36: ‘Est de iure naturali pax.’
26 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘ordinatur ad pacem et concordiam hominum.’
27  See for the doctrine of ‘just war’, John Finnis, ‘The Ethics of War and Peace in the Catholic
Natural Law Tradition’, and Joseph Boyle, ‘Just War Thinking in Catholic Natural Law’, in Terry
Nardin (ed.), The Ethics of War and Peace: Religious and Secular Perspectives (1996), pp. 15–​39 and pp.
40–​53.
 Francisco de Vitoria 43

2. Anthropological and epistemic presumptions and the reliability

of knowledge, rules, and norms
If, in the mindset of this age, there are different degrees of jus naturale and necessity
concerning the possible range of arbitrary acts (even of God), what is the impact
of this concept of order on finite, peccable, and deceivable beings, i.e. on humans?
According to the doctrine of original sin, the human powers of cognition are con-
stricted but they still have a significant part in this God-​given order.28 Likewise,
according to the principle of various degrees of necessity, humans are able to rec-
ognize the rules and norms of natural law only to a certain degree. The first strict
degree of necessity includes ‘all which is per se known as just by natural light, and
which conforms to right reason, and whose contrary is unjust’.29 The principle
‘You should not do to your neighbour what you yourself do not want to suffer!’
belongs to this strict degree. The norms of the second degree are, for example, ‘the
Commandments of the Decalogue such as the prohibition of killing’.30 They ‘are,
if concluded correctly, inferred and deduced from principles which are known by
themselves’.31 The commandments of the first and second degree are very similar
to each other, so Vitoria refers to the prohibition of killing or stealing as examples
for both. These degrees of deducing ‘from the natural principles’32 vary in their
probability for being properly comprehended by reason (intellectus). But they still
have in common that ‘nothing (…) arises from natural law except that what the
human being can know by nature’.33 According to Vitoria, to know (scire) some-
thing signifies ‘that all agree’.34 But if it is true that what ‘comes from natural law’35
can be equated with ‘what can be recognized by all’,36 how could discrepancy from
consensus be explained?
Collective agreement and individual consent can diverge because of ‘bad habit,
bad dispositions, bad instructions, or ambition’.37 Therefore dissent from general
consent can be explained by deficient institutions and structures but not by a gen-
eral absence of rationality. Custom and education are in good order when they
impart a certain set of cognitive methods such as deductive reasoning, conclusion,

28 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 4, p. 26: ‘Sed quilibet nostrum potest decipi, postquam
primus parens peccavit.’
29 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 4, p. 22: ‘Omne illud, quod lumine naturali per se notum
est esse iustum ab omnibus et conforme rationi rectae et contrarium illius esse iniustum, omne tale
dicitur et est jus naturale (… ).’
30 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 4, p. 22.
31 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 4, p. 22: ‘infertur et deducitur in bona consequentia ex
principiis per se notis’.
32 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 4., conclusion 3, p. 24: ‘ex principiis naturalibus’.
33 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 5, in summa, p. 30: ‘nihil est de iure naturali, nisi quod
naturaliter potest sciri ab homine’.
34 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 4, p. 26: ‘quod omnes assentiantur’.
35  Cf. Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 4, p. 26: ‘Itaque quicumque supradicta obiiceret et quod
illa, quae natura demonstrat, non sunt de iure naturali, quamvis verbo illa dicat, tamen non potest non
assentire.’
36 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 5, in summa, p. 30: ‘quae ab omnibus possunt cognosci’.
37 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 5, in summa, p. 30: ‘ex mala consuetudine vel ex prava
affectione vel mala doctrina vel studio’.
44 Kirstin Bunge
and dialectics.38 Otherwise dissent could be the consequence. According to Vitoria,
a person’s dissent or failure to endorse something known by nature and accepted
by everyone, would not be an expression of an individual act of volition, rather it
would demonstrate a problem of social structure. Because jus naturale is a neces-
sary law39, independent of any act of volition, it is impossible that any singular
individual or political community be excluded from it. As will be shown in the fol-
lowing sections, these anthropological and epistemic presumptions are integrated
in Vitoria’s ideas of just war and of legitimate intervention in political communities.

3. The communitas totius orbis and jus gentium

According to Vitoria, the totus orbis conceptualizes the physical and global space
in which humans can act both as individuals (like travellers or traders) as well as a
social (e.g. a religious Order) or political community (gens or res publica). Within
the normative framework of natural law, the totus orbis is structured by jus positivum
as well as various units, such as family, trade relations, singular political entities
(civitas), international agreements, or the virtual republic of totus orbis. According
to the natural law-​theory, only jus positivum depends on volition and decisions
by humans40 whereas jus naturale represents fundamental moral insights. There
still exist naturally binding rules between states, peoples, and mankind, to which
positive law like jus gentium is added. In contrast to jus naturale, jus gentium is in
principle alterable by contract (pactum) or mutual agreement (consensus), either
between all parties involved or within a majority.41 The immutability of jus naturale
derives from the fact that it ‘speaks by itself of a certain equality and justice, e.g. to
return deposited goods, not to do to your next what you yourself do not want to
suffer and so on’.42 By contrast, jus gentium becomes morally binding only insofar
that its regulations are in accordance with jus naturale; legally binding insofar that
it conforms with positive law and thus with the majority of mankind.
Nota, quod si jus gentium derivatur sufficienter ex iure naturali, manifestam vim habet ad
dandum jus et obligandum. Et dato, quod non semper derivetur ex iure naturali, sequi vid-
etur consensus maioris partis totius orbis, maxime pro bono communi omnium.43

38  Cf. Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 5, pp. 28–​31: ‘(…) quia consequentia est instrumentum
dialecticae et inventa est ad hoc, ut ducat nos de notitia noti ad notitiam ignoti. (…) Si tamen possit
sciri ab aliis, licet non ab omnibus, esset bona consequentia, et illi, qui sciunt, possunt aliis ostendere.
Secundo dico, quod, quia versamur in moralibus, illa consequentia nihil valet propterea, quia si non
potest sciri consequentia, nullus tenetur ad consequens, quia illa in moralibus non valet nec probat
aliquid, nisi causet in nobis aliquam cognitionem. Cum ergo illa non causet cognitionem, ergo non
est bona consequentia.’
39  Cf. Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 5, p. 28: ‘(…) jus naturale est idem quod jus necessarium’.
40 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 2, nu. 2, p. 18: ‘(…) idem est jus naturale sicut jus necessarium, id
est jus naturale est illud, quod est necessarium, puta quod non dependet ex voluntate aliqua. Et illud,
quod dependet ex voluntate et beneplacito hominum, dicitur positivum.’
41  This means also against a minority in case of political domination.
42 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘(…) de se dicit aequalitatem quamdam et iusti-
tiam, ut reddere depositum, quod tibi nos vis fieri alteri non facere etc’.
43 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 1, nu. 3, proposition 3, p. 466; idem, ‘De iure belli’, in Ulrich
Horst et al. (eds.), Vorlesungen II (1997), p. 564.
 Francisco de Vitoria 45

Based on jus naturale, the unanimity-​or majority rule, pacta sunt servanda, and the
conception of aequalitas conflate in jus gentium. According to Vitoria, the consensus
maioris partis totius orbis is reflected in jus gentium. The jus gentium embodies an
idea of bonum commune omnium and is insofar ‘equalised to the next in ordination
to others’.44 Although the jus gentium corresponds to the nature of jus naturale,45
only jus gentium requires to be established by positive law because it does not by
itself imply aequitas.
Ius vero gentium de se non est bonum, id est jus gentium dicitur, quod non habet in se
aequitatem ex natura sua, sed ex condicto hominum sancitum est.46
Derived from natural law, and therefore under the terms of aequalitas, jus gen-
tium possesses aequitas only when validated by becoming positive, customary, or
contract law.47 Between the requirements of natural law, the results of political
legislation, and international bargaining, jus gentium is oriented towards bonum
commune omnium. To ensure the common welfare of all by jus gentium, the protec-
tion of the legate or envoy is essential. It seems that the quasi-​republic of totus orbis
epitomizes the preconditions of legal procedures of continuous interaction and of
intermediation in case of conflicts. Jus gentium consolidates various norms and rules
commended by nature. These international norms and rules are not natural law by
themselves but claim so much evidence that jus gentium could be found ‘inter omnes
gentes’.48 It seems that jus gentium refers to a law ‘among the peoples’, and not any
longer to a law only ‘by (apud) the peoples’ or merely in an already modern sense of
‘between (inter) the peoples’.49
The mandatory nature of jus gentium derives from consensus totius orbis and from
its quality to preserve jus naturale,50 thus jus gentium cannot be abrogated.
Quia quando semel ex virtuali consensu totius orbis aliquid statuitur et admittitur, oportet,
quod ad abrogationem talis iuris totus orbis conveniat, quod tamen est impossibile, quia
impossibile est, quod consensus totius orbis conveniat in abrogatione iuris gentium.51
This leads to quite complicated and puzzling consequences, as the particular case
concerning the treatment of Christian prisoners of war between Christian states
shows. During Vitoria’s time and in accordance to terms of the bellum-​justum

44 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3,nu. 1, p. 32: ‘alteri adaequatum in ordine ad aliud’.

45 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘ex natura sua est alteri commensuratum’.
46 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 2, p. 34.
47 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 1, nu. 3, proposition 3, p. 466: ‘vim habet ad dandum jus et
obligandum’.
48 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 1, nu. 1, p. 460: ‘Quod naturalis ratio inter omnes gentes con-
stituit, vocatur jus gentium.’
49  The ancient conception of jus gentium as ‘law by (apud) the peoples or humans’ understands it as
rather incidentally valid, whereas the modern sense of ‘law between (inter) the peoples’ is based on an
optional common agreement or arbitrary treaty. Vitoria’s idea of jus gentium embedded in the totus orbis
and in the overarching natural law seems to mediate between these two alternatives.
50  Cf. Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 3, p. 36: ‘communis consensus omnium gentium et
nationum’. And Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 3, p. 38: ‘facere contra jus gentium et illud violare
est illicitum, quia de se importat iniuriam, quae infertur, et inaequalitatem quamdam’.
51 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 5, p. 40.
46 Kirstin Bunge
doctrine, prisoners of war were usually taken into slavery. Christian states, however,
had reached the agreement to refrain from this custom when dealing with Christian
prisoners of war. But how does this exception affect the area of application of the
generally admitted jus gentium? According to Vitoria, it is possible to partially dero-
gate from certain elements of jus gentium, as for instance from enslavement. In the
case of Christian states, the involved parties did not simply deviate from the law but
altered the codes of conduct by agreement.52 Nevertheless, due to the necessity of
jus naturale and the quasi necessity of jus gentium, this partial derogation ‘violates
in part’ the ‘virtual consent (virtualis consensus) of totius orbis’ because it alters the
solid order of jus gentium by fractionalizing its scope.53 Based on this ambigu-
ous differentiation between jus naturale and jus gentium, the next section discusses
Vitoria’s modifications of the originally Roman idea of just war at the beginning of
colonialism.

4. The doctrine of just war at the beginning of colonialism

Initiated by various reports about the brutal conquest and proselytization in Central
and South America, Vitoria dealt with the scope of norms which were regarded
as universal (like jus naturale) and others emerging from the actions of particular
political communities (like jus civile). In some of his lectures, Vitoria investigated
into how the ‘New World’ could be incorporated into the ‘Old’, using the idea of
jus gentium which oscillates between jus naturale and jus positivum. The theory of
bellum justum formed the traditional scholastic framework for questions about law,
justice, and restored order. Originating in the context of the Roman Empire, the
theory of just war was used to determine the criteria for regulating international
violence and restricting the causes, methods, and purpose of war. Using the exam-
ple of the conquest of America, Vitoria discussed the legitimacy and illegitimacy
respectively of the exterritorial use of violence and dominion.
Vitoria retrospectively (the Spanish had already been located in America for
fifty years) rejected the idea that either the emperor54 or the pope were entitled to
execute political domination (dominium et potestas civile) over the conquered ter-
ritories.55 At a time when the first dominant and expanding states like Spain and
England gradually replaced the medieval feudal system, Vitoria studied the internal
conditions of political communities. A central element of Vitoria’s political theory
was the conviction that there were, in principle, no differences between the political

52 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 5, p. 40.

53 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 5, p. 40: ‘Secundo dico, quod bene potest ex parte abrogari
jus gentium, licet non omnino –​sicut jus gentium est, quod captivi in bello iusto sint servi, sed [Petrus
de] Palude dicit, quod hoc non tenet inter Christianos. Si enim in bello Hispani capiant Gallos, Galli
sunt captivi, sed non servi, quia possunt comparere in iudicio et alia huiusmodi, quae tamen non licer-
ent, si essent servi. Item facta, Galli tenerent, et Christianus non posset illum omnino vendere. Ecce hic
ex parte violatur jus gentium. Nam de iure gentium captivi in bello iusto sunt servi.’
54  From 1530 to 1556 in personal union as Holy Roman Empire Emperor, Charles V, respectively
Charles I.
55 Vitoria, De Indis, section 2, title 1, pp. 410–​31.
 Francisco de Vitoria 47

entities of the indigenous people of America and Europe. Although Vitoria took
differences of cultural and technical development for granted, he did not explain
them to be natural and unalterable.56 In the sixteenth century this assumption was
not as evident as it might appear today. The Humanists had reactivated Aristotle’s
doctrine of natural slavery which jurists of the Spanish Crown had used to legiti-
mize the conquest and colonization of America by the Spanish.57 According to
Vitoria, differences between humans could be explained by ‘bad and barbarian edu-
cation’58 as was also the case in some rural regions of Spain. The ‘barbarians’ of the
New World were anthropologically similar to the European people as measured by
established political communities (civitas), trade and craft, a specific order in their
civil and public affairs based on property rights,59 as well as the existence of a kind
of religion.60 As we have seen, Vitoria did not legitimize the intervention in tradi-
tional terms of empire or papacy, nor did he conceal the fact that the continent,
which had hitherto merely been unknown by the Europeans, had not been ‘discov-
ered’ uninhabited but brutally conquered. Nevertheless, Vitoria justified both the
war against the ‘barbarians’ and the right of the Spanish to stay in America.
Vitoria’s justification was closely related to his anthropology and his concept
of peace as a specific order supported by legal ownership and dominion rights.
If necessary, this order had to be restored by war. According to Vitoria, humans
are characterized by rationality and freedom of choice (liberum arbitrium), and
as political creatures living together in legal, economic, and religious structured
organizations,61 they depend on certain procedures to sustain stable conditions.
Based on this anthropology and in conjunction with the concept of natural law,
Vitoria postulated a ‘natural society and community’62 among the peoples which
on a global scale would extend to travelling, trading, and preaching the Gospel.63
Although, or rather precisely because this idea of an unobstructed global order
implies not harming the natives, the jus praedicandi evangelium64 constitutes the

56 Vitoria, De Indis, section 1, pp. 384–​7.

57  At the well-​known debate of Valladolid, Las Casas argued against Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda who
asserted that the American natives were naturally predisposed to slavery and serfdom. See also Section
III. Cycles of Reception.
58 Vitoria, De Indis, p. 402. However cf. Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 1, proposition 5,
p. 468: ‘Sed est notandum, quod cum barbari isti sint natura meticulosi et alias stolidi et stulti, quan-
tumcumque Hispani vellent eos demere a timore et reddere eos securos de pacifica conversatione
Hispanorum, possunt adhuc merito timere videntes homines cultu extraneos et armatos et multo
potentiores se.’ In English: Vitoria, ‘On the American Indians’, q. 3, art. 1, proposition 5, in Anthony
Pagden and Jeremy Lawrance (eds.), Political Writings (2007), p. 282: ‘But I should remark that these
barbarians are by nature cowardly, foolish, and ignorant besides. However much the Spaniards may
wish to reassure them and convince them of their peaceful intentions, therefore, the barbarians may
still be understandably fearful of men whose customs seem so strange, and who they can see are armed
and much stronger than themselves.’
59 Vitoria, De Indis, section 1, p. 386: ‘in pacifica possessione rerum et publice et privatim’.
60 Vitoria, De Indis, section 1, proposition 3, p. 402.
61 Vitoria, De Indis, section 1, proposition 3, p. 402.
62 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 1, p. 460.
63 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, titles 1–​2, pp. 460–​6.
64 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 2, pp. 472–​6.
48 Kirstin Bunge
foundations for justifying several cases of intervention causes.65 According to
Vitoria, the internal constitution of political communities authorizes an interven-
tion to protect Christian converts66 or ‘innocent’ people against tyranny or despotic
laws.67 If Christians were to build the majority in a community, he perceived it to
be legitimate to remove an ‘infidel’ ruler and replace him with a Christian one,
‘whether or not they asked him to do so’.68 Vitoria avoided a clear assessment of
whether ‘[(…) the barbarians]69 were simply children’ and would therefore benefit
from being placed under Spanish trusteeship.
Detached from the question concerning whether the Europeans were illegiti-
mately or legitimately settled in America, as well as from the fact that they had
unquestionably interfered with existing indigenous structures70 to the detriment
of the natives, Vitoria argued for the perpetuation of the status quo and endorsed
intercontinental trade.71 Trade was rather of mutual interest because resources and
goods were not available to the same degree in any given place. It would also be
obstructive to renounce trading in consideration of the serious financial damages
that were to be expected. Furthermore, a conceivable political independence on the
side of the ‘barbarians’ would not necessarily reduce Spanish profit, as the Spanish
crown had discovered and still controlled the sea route. Accordingly, the Spanish
could collect custom duties for exported goods. In addition to this, to protect
Christian converts, it would be ‘expedient (expediret)’ and ‘lawful (liceret)’ to persist
on the dependence of the American ‘provinces’.72 It is instructive to see that even in
this early phase of colonialism Vitoria had conceptualized a global order based on
property and domination rights, supplemented by the just war-​doctrine. To ensure
‘justice’, trade, and proselytization the jus gentium creates the general framework for
a stable legal order in which war could be seen as a legitimate instrument.
Pro responsione notandum, quod bellum geritur primo ad defendendum nos et nostra,
secundo ad recuperandum res ablatas, tertio ad vindicandum iniuriam acceptam, quarto ad
pacem et securitatem parandam.73

65  By using the subjunctive in the section of the legitimate titles in De Indis, Vitoria still exacerbates
the ambiguity of his argumentation. Cf. Stefan Kadelbach, ‘Mission und Eroberung bei Vitoria. Über
die Entstehung des Völkerrechts aus der Theologie’, in Kirstin Bunge, Anselm Spindler, and Andreas
Wagner (eds.) Die Normativität des Rechts bei Francisco de Vitoria (2011), pp. 300–​3.
66 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, titles 3–​4, p. 478.
67 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 5, p. 480.
68 Vitoria, On the American Indians, q. 3, art. 4, p. 287. In Latin: Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 4,
p. 478. Vitoria mentioned other reasons to justify a war, such as the voluntary decision to make the
King of Spain the new ruler or a pact of mutual assistance between nations. Vitoria, De Indis, section 3,
title 7, pp. 482–​4.
69 Vitoria, On the American Indians, q. 3, art. 8, p. 290.
70 Cf. to the extent of the well-​documented atrocities that were committed in America:  ‘The
encounter will never again achieve such an intensity, if indeed that is the word to use: the sixteenth
century perpetrated the greatest genocide in human history.’ Tzvetan Todorov, The Conquest of America.
The Question of the Other (1984), p. 5.
71 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 7, pp. 486–​8.
72 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 7, p. 488.
73 Vitoria, De iure belli, q. 4, part 2, dubium 5, p. 590: ‘In answer to this, it is to be noticed that a
war is waged firstly to defend ourselves, and our property, secondly to regain stolen goods, thirdly to
vindicate received injustice, fourthly to establish peace and security.’
 Francisco de Vitoria 49

5. Justice and peace
As we have seen, on the one hand peace represents a conception in which jus nat-
urale and jus gentium coalesce. On the other hand, according to the theologian
Vitoria, peace is a constitutive part of justice and the just order given by God.
To preserve this natural order, it is necessary to combine the natural purpose of
political authority74 with the contract–​theoretical rule that those who are affected
by domination should by majority be able to agree to it (ex consensu mutuo et com-
muni).75 As a reminder: while, according to Vitoria, jus naturale is valid by itself, jus
gentium becomes legally binding by virtue of agreement and insofar that it politi-
cally preserves peace and concord.76 The two are closely connected, but they are not
identical. Jus gentium is based on jus naturale. But the former is also necessary to
preserve the latter, as the quotation demonstrates:
Respondeo, quod jus gentium non necessario sequitur ex iure naturali nec est necessarium
simpliciter ad conservationem iuris naturalis; quia si necessario sequeretur ex iure naturali,
iam esset jus naturale. (…) Nihilominus tamen jus gentium est necessarium ad conservatio-
nem iuris naturalis. Et non est omnino necessarium, sed panae necessarium, quia male pos-
set conservari jus naturale sine iure gentium. Cum magna namque difficultate jus naturale
servaretur, si non esset jus gentium.77
This capacity of jus gentium to conserve natural law implies assumptions about
ownership and property rights. The order of natural law possesses ‘by itself a certain
equality and justice’78 and operates with the conception of an original community
of goods. In contrast, the arrangements of jus gentium, for example ‘that possessions
should be divided, is no question of equality and justice but is ordered to uphold
peace and concord among the people’.79 Unlike natural law, which is aimed at the
fundamental relations among humans or between a person and God, the norms
and rules of jus gentium reflect a human effort to sustain order or organization
without ‘equity by itself ’.80 Due to nature it is just ‘to worship God, to honour the
parents and to esteem the home country’.81 Referring to ‘manumissions, property
of possessions, [and] conservation of kingdom,’82 this could only be applied to jus

74  That is to protect the lives of humans.

75  Cf. the rule ‘Quod omnes tangit, debet ab omnibus approbari. /​What concerns everybody, has to
be approved by everyone’, in Decretalium Collectiones: Liber Sextus: 5, 13, 29 (CICan.2/​1122).
76  Cf. Vitoria, De potestate civili, p. 156: ‘vis legis ex pacto et condicto inter homines’; and Vitoria,
De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘pax et concordia hominum’.
77 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 4, p. 38: ‘I reply: International law does not necessarily
follow from natural law and is also not necessary per se to sustain natural law; because if it necessarily
followed from the natural law, it would already be natural law. (…) Nonetheless, international law
is necessary to preserve the natural law. And it is not entirely necessary, but almost necessary because
natural law could be difficultly maintained without the international law. Natural law would indeed
sustain merely with great difficulty, if there were no international law.’
78 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘aequalitas quaedam et iustitia’.
79 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘quod possessiones sint divisae, non dicit aequali-
tatem nec iustitiam, sed ordinatur ad pacem et concordiam hominum’.
80 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 2, p. 36: ‘de se non habent aequitatem’.
81 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 2, p. 33: ‘colere Deum, honorare parentes et patriam diligere’.
82 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 2, p. 36: ‘manumissiones, proprietas possessionum, conser-
vatio regni’.
50 Kirstin Bunge
gentium mediated ‘by another just cause’,83 i.e. the preservation of peace and con-
cord. According to Vitoria jus gentium is raised on a God-​given and just order of jus
naturale to preserve peace by law and property rights. This is based on the idea that
peace could only be guaranteed by acknowledging individual property,84 otherwise
there would be ‘dispute and war’.85

III.  Cycles of Reception

The ambivalence in the way Vitoria tried to integrate Spanish transatlantic politics
into the traditional theories of natural law and of just war is also reflected in the
cycles of reception. After Vitoria’s death in 1546, his lectures were preserved in the
notes of his numerous pupils who later came to influence legislation and politics
in Spain and America as advisors, confessors, or clergymen.86 It is probably due
to said ambiguity that Vitoria’s work was not received in its entirety. However,
the contradictory character of his work enabled later scholars to take up some of
Vitoria’s ideas and concepts and put them to their own use. Two famous partici-
pants of the Valladolid debate and peers of Vitoria’s, Bartolomé de las Casas (1484/​
5–​1566) and Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda (1490–​1573), should illustrate this. Using
the example of the conquered territories in America, the Junta de Valladolid (1550–​
1551) discussed the rights and treatment of colonized people by the settlers. For
the first time in European history a moral, largely theoretical debate about coloni-
alism and the foundations of international relations took place. Las Casas, former
Spanish settler, military chaplain, and later bishop of Chiapas, relied on Vitoria in
his criticism of colonization. Famous for his chronicle about the American con-
quest, Las Casas harshly criticized the encomienda system, tried to reform the policy
of colonization and to introduce a peaceful way of evangelization in Guatemala.
Interestingly, his opponent, the Spanish humanist Sepúlveda, although relying
primarily on Aristotle’s theory of natural slavery, also refers to Vitoria’s writings.
For Sepúlveda, the Amerindians were naturally predisposed to slavery. Waging war
against them was justified by their ‘barbarian’ practices of idolatry and cannibalism,
both of which were taken as infringing on natural law. Although the issue remained
unresolved and the Spanish treatment of the Amerindians did not change substan-
tially, the Valladolid debate was a remarkable event.

83 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, 2. proposition, p. 32: ‘ad aliud iustum’.

84 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 1, p. 32: ‘non potest conservari, nisi unusquisque habeat
bona determinata’.
85 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 4, p. 38: ‘Posset quidem orbis subsistere, si possessiones
essent in communi, ut est in religionibus. Tamen esset cum magna difficultate, ne homines in discor-
dias und bella prorumperent.’
86  For an overview of Vitoria’s followers, please refer to Jörg Fisch, Die europäische Expansion und
das Völkerrecht. Die Auseinandersetzungen um den Status der überseeischen Gebiete vom 15. Jahrhundert
bis zur Gegenwart (1984), pp. 223–​65.
 Francisco de Vitoria 51

The Dutch jurist Hugo Grotius (1583–​1645) and the Italian lawyer Alberico
Gentili (1552–​1608) share with Vitoria, albeit within a more secular frame-
work, not only the title of founding fathers of international law but also a con-
ception of international order based on natural law.87 As of the beginning of
the nineteenth century, the interest in Vitoria’s lectures revived particularly with
the work of the Belgian legal historian Ernest Nys (1851–​1920) and with that of the
American jurist James Brown Scott (1866–​1943) who contributed to establishing
the Permanent Court of International Justice in Den Haag.88 Both suggested that
Hugo Grotius should not be considered the founder of international law but rather
Vitoria and more especially the Jesuit Francisco Suárez.89 According to Cardinal
Joseph Höffner, Vitoria was considered the ‘creator of the modern international
law’90 because he had reformulated the Institutiones-​definition of jus gentium from
‘inter omnes homines’ to ‘inter omnes gentes’.91 But Höffner denied that there was
‘[e]‌ine klare Herausschälung des eigentlichen ‘Völkerrechts’ aus dem Rechtsbereich
des überlieferten Jus gentium’92 by Vitoria. Martti Koskenniemi points out that
James Brown Scott was
engaged during the interwar years in an effort to give shape to a new architecture of interna-
tional institutions and systems of dispute-​settlement and would enable the emergence of an
interdependence-​driven global structure of private rights and economic exchanges; a world
united in search for peace through prosperity.93

87  See for one Alfred Dufour, ‘Les “Magni Hispani”dans l’œvre de Grotius’, in Frank Grunert and
Kurt Seelmann (eds.), Die Ordnung der Praxis. Neue Studien zur Spanischen Spätscholastik (2001), pp.
351–​80.
88  Camilo Barcia Trelles, ‘Francisco de Vitoria et l`école modern du droit international’, in Recueil
des Cours de l’Académie de la Haye de droit international 17 (1927-​II); Vicente Beltrán de Heredia, Los
manuscritos del Maestro Fray Francisco de Vitoria (1928).
89  Ernest Nys, ‘Introduction’, in Ernest Nys (ed.), Francisci de Victoria, De Indis et de iure belli relec-
tiones (1917), pp. 9–​53; in English translation pp. 55–​100.
90 ‘Schöpfer der modernen Völkerrechtswissenschaft’, in Joseph Höffner, Kolonialismus und
Evangelium. Spanische Kolonialethik im Goldenen Zeitalter (1969), p.  314. According to Höffner,
this was mentioned for the first time by Ernest Nys, Les origines du droit international (1894), p. 11;
followed, for example, by James Brown Scott, The Spanish Origin of International Law: Francisco de
Vitoria and his Law of Nations (1934), p. 139. Carl Schmitt highlights a ‘ganz außerordentliche (…)
Unvoreingenommenheit, Objektivität und Neutralität’ (‘quite extraordinary impartiality, objectiv-
ity, and neutrality’) in Vitoria’s De Indis. Based on this impression, he comes to the conclusion that
‘[d]‌ie Argumentation erscheint dadurch nicht mehr mittelalterlich, sondern “modern” ’ (‘the argument
appears to be therefore no longer medieval but “modern” ’). Carl Schmitt, ‘Die Rechtfertigung der
Landnahme einer neuen Welt (Francisco de Vitoria)’, in idem, Der Nomos der Erde im Völkerrecht des
Jus Publicum Europaeum (1997), pp. 87–​9, here p. 71.
91 Vitoria, De Indis, section 3, title 1, nu. 1, p. 460: ‘Quod naturalis ratio inter omnes gentes consti-
tuit, vocatur jus gentium.’ For comparison Institutiones, 1. book, 2. title, nu. 1, in Corpus Iuris Civilis,
p. 3: ‘[Q]‌uod vero naturalis ratio inter omnes homines constituit, id apud omnes populos peraeque
custoditur vocaturque jus gentium, quasi quo iure omnes gentes utuntur.’
92  ‘no clear crystallisation of the literal “international law” from the legal domain of the traditional
jus gentium.’ Höffner, Kolonialismus und Evangelium (n. 90), p. 313.
93 Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Colonization of the “Indies”. The Origin of International Law?’, in
Yolanda Gamarra Chopo (ed.), La idea de América en el pensamiento jus internacionalista del siglo xxi
(2010), p. 44.
52 Kirstin Bunge
Today, this Iberian tradition of thought is considered less significant for the forma-
tion of international law and is discussed controversially, as the following quote
should demonstrate:
The claim of the great Spanish writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries –​Vitoria and
Suarez in particular –​to be the ‘founders’ of international law, a claim advanced with particu-
lar vigor by James Brown Scott in the 1930s, becomes difficult if not impossible to sustain.
The Dominican Vitoria wrote expressly as a theologian concerned with matters of conscience.
The Jesuit Suarez was engaged quite openly in the struggle of the Catholic church to defeat
the Reformation. These men were sophisticated latter-​day protagonists of the ‘old’ moral and
religious viewpoint rather than pioneers of the ‘new’ secular and legal one.94
After the Second World War, there seemed to be the need for a new global and integra-
tive international order which would ‘complete’ the Westphalian system of sovereign
states. This tendency has been reinforced during the twenty-​first century under the
conditions of globalization, even more so in the face of the precarious status of the pro-
tection and enforcement of human rights and of provisions to prevent mass atrocities.95
In contrast, postnational and decolonial approaches criticize this more or less
affirmative appraisal of the history of international law. In line with their alterna-
tive view of international law, authors like the Australian jurist Antony T. Anghie,
Koskenniemi,96 the Argentine-​ Mexican philosopher Enrique Dussel and the
Argentinean professor of literature Walter D. Mignolo investigate how Vitoria and
his followers had contributed not only to the ‘making of international law’97 but to
imperialism and sovereignty as well.

94  Murray Forsyth, ‘The Tradition of International Law’, in Terry Nardin and David R. Mapel
(eds.), Traditions of International Ethics, (1992), p. 26. Cf. to the ‘very misleading picture of the pre-​
Grotian ideas about the laws of war and peace’ by James Brown Scott: Richard Tuck, The Rights of War
and Peace: Political Thought and the International Order from Grotius to Kant (2009), p. 11.
95  Cf. John Finnis, ‘Boundaries’, in Human Rights and Common Good:  Collected Essays (2011),
p. 132. ‘It is not, perhaps, so clear that the modern jus gentium entirely excludes another title that
Vitoria advances for the just suppression or overriding of boundaries: defence of the innocent against
tyranny or other unjust attacks on human life. We hear talk of justified resort to force to prevent a
humanitarian disaster –​or at least, if we cannot prevent it, or perhaps unintentionally provoked it, to
put an end to such radical injustice –​and establish a more or less international protectorate for ensur-
ing, so far as fairly possible, that injustice of that kind does not quickly resume.’
96 Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Colonization of the “Indies”. The Origin of International Law?’, (n.
93) pp. 62f. ‘Spanish imperialism was constituted of the exercise of public power by the Spanish State
in the form of conquest and settlement, administration and the conduct of mercantilistic policies that
ultimately failed to uphold the position of Spain as the leading European power. It was followed up by
Netherlands and England whose political leaders well understood the importance of the Salamancan
doctrines: their imperialism was imperialism of the free trade, carried out by private companies through
private transactions, if necessary protected by the public power of the State. National resources would
not be wasted when private operators could be liberated to carry out the work of disciplining the natives
through commerce and the extraction of resources.’
97  Borrowed from the title of Antony Anghie’s book Imperialism, Sovereignty and the Making of
International Law (2005). Enrique Dussel, ‘Eurocentrism and Modernity’, Boundary 2 (1993), 20/​3
65–​76: ‘Modernity includes a rational ‘concept’ of emancipation that we affirm and subsume. But, at
the same time, it develops an irrational myth, a justification for genocidal violence. The postmodernists
criticize modern reason as a reason of terror; we criticize modern reason because of the irrational myth
that it conceals’, at 66. Walter D. Mignolo, The Darker Side of the Renaissance. Literacy, Territoriality,
and Colonization (1995), pp. 125–​69.
 Francisco de Vitoria 53

IV.  Dominium and Law as Integral Parts of the Global Order

The following offers a short summary of Vitoria’s conception of order and jus gen-
tium: Vitoria stands in the tradition of Catholic natural law that was highly system-
atized by Aquinas and which arranged all parts of the world and all kinds of beings
and actions in a proper order given by God. Based on Christian anthropology,
Vitoria tried to integrate the foreign cultures and communities that the Spanish
had encountered in America into the framework of salvation, but also in legal terms
concerning international relations as well as those of trade and ownership. The
close interdependency between assumptions about human nature and the world
not only ‘as it should be,’ but also ‘as it is,’ is demonstrated by Vitoria’s use of the
term dominium and its conjunction with jus gentium. This also explains why this
chapter employs the term ‘order’ while largely avoiding the term ‘system’ in terms of
a conceptualizing, merely man-​made practice. According to this theological world-
view, ‘order’ does not always factually exist, but it is a presupposed idea containing
the remedies to retrieve the good, stable condition originally given by God.
Because jus gentium depends on the law of nature, but also on the law of contract
as well as on customary law, there are arbitrary, time-​variant versions of order to
consider (like the manner in which things were distributed in the divisio rerum)
in order to preserve peace, for instance in trading or political domination. As law
enforced among the peoples, jus gentium contributes to establishing and conserving
political dominion and private property. According to Vitoria, dominium repre-
sents the necessarily given external conditions with which to enable a person and
a political community to preserve them or itself and to act by choice. So in the
definition of jus gentium, which is only valid ‘as a result of human agreement (ex
condicto hominum)’,98 theories of ownership, jurisdiction, and political domination
are interconnected. According to Vitoria’s anthropology, this is reflected in the term
dominium in which three meanings were implicated, namely to have jus, to possess
dominium of things, and to be dominus or princeps of things and people (including
the own person). The interconnection conveyed in the idea of dominium seems
to suggest coherence between a concept of self-​determination of a person based
on legal allocation of private property claims on the one hand, and the dominium
rights of a political community on the other.
By postulating a conception of an original common ownership of the earth, the
existence of particular political and private dominium remains foremost to be justi-
fied. After the divisio rerum, in which goods were distributed and the earth as such
was partitioned by contract (pactum) or agreement (consensus), private ownership
rights and political domination are meant to preserve the peace by regulating prob-
lems of distribution between people. However, this ownership-​based conception
of peace does not dissolve the unity of totus orbis. There still exist binding arrange-
ments that go beyond states and peoples in that they represent a virtual consent

98 Vitoria, De iustitia, q. 57, art. 3, nu. 2, p. 34.

54 Kirstin Bunge
among the people. Although these global rules and principles are more moral by
nature, the doctrine of just war could confer legal force to them politically.

V. Conclusion

Departing from a conception of a natural global entity of humans, individuals as

well as states can be conceived as parts of one order structured by moral, religious,
political, and economic laws. This idea of order implies a peace-​preserving function
of jus gentium and its institutions that promote trade and proselytization, that is,
a perpetuation of the status quo, with a view to preserve intercontinental trade.99
In accordance with the rather ineffective condition that the natives should not be
harmed, political power and jus gentium are meant to promote this freedom of
economy and proselytization. Embedded in a concept of order pre-​structured by
jus naturale, dominium and law constitute two integral parts of the global order
to maintain ‘justice’ and ‘peace.’ On the threshold of modernity, the jus gentium
thereby created the general framework for a legal order between people and nations.
Under the changing conditions of economy, theories of political domination, and
relation between religious and secular spheres, the foundations of politics and law
were re-​assessed. At this juncture, one of the most important findings of Vitoria’s
political and legal philosophy was that the sphere of political practice became more
autonomous although still thought of as part of a God-​given order. As the politi-
cal power of the pope and the emperor was fading, new stakeholders gradually
appeared. The traditional conception of totus orbis clarifies—​one hundred years
before the Peace of Westphalia—​the scope in which different types of stakeholders
such as individuals and social or political communities can act freely and (at least
theoretically) interact on equal terms, such as the political entities of the people of
America and Europe.

Selected Bibliography
de Vitoria, Francisco, in Anthony Pagden and Jeremy Lawrance (eds.), Political Writings,
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007).
Nardin, Terry (ed.), The Ethics of War and Peace: Religious and Secular Perspectives (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1996).
Nardin, Terry and David R. Mapel (eds.), Traditions of International Ethics (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1992).
Koskenniemi, Martti, ‘Colonization of the “Indies”: The Origin of International Law?’, in
Yolanda Gamarra Chopo (ed.), La idea de América en el pensamiento jus internacionalista

99  Koskenniemi, ‘Colonization of the “Indies”. The Origin of International Law?’, (n. 93) p. 57,
speaks about ‘the right of the Spaniards to travel and trade in the Indies (ius pergrinandi & jus negoti-
andi) (…, and) portrays trade and commerce as part of the “natural partnership and communication”
between humans.’
 Francisco de Vitoria 55
del siglo xxi (Institución ‘Fernando el Católico’ y Universidad de Zaragoza, 2010), pp.
43–​63.
Todorov, Tzvetan, The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other (New York: Harper &
Row, 1984).
Tuck, Richard, The Rights of War and Peace: Political Thought and the International Order
from Grotius to Kant (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009).
 3
Francisco Suárez S.J. on the End of Peaceful
Order among States and Systematic Doctrinal
Scholarship
Tobias Schaffner

I. Introduction

The introductions to most textbooks of international law convey the impression

that twenty-​first century lawyers can learn little of relevance from the works of
Francisco Suárez (1548–​1617) and other scholars, such as Francisco de Vitoria
(1483–​1546), Alberico Gentili (1552–​1608), and Hugo Grotius (1583–​1645).
Such introductions mention these works, because they led to the development of
a separate discipline of international law.1 Yet this is all one needs to know about
them, or so such introductions tend to make us believe.
The present chapter seeks to challenge this view. It argues that the work of Suárez,
like that of other theologians and natural lawyers, offers an insightful (albeit imper-
fect) articulation of the values of peace and justice which continue to underpin
the international legal order. Suárez reminds us that the practical reasoning of all
upright statesmen, citizens, and lawyers is guided by the idea of a peaceful and
just order among states. Peace and justice are potentialities which individuals and
whole nations can establish and preserve, as well as fail to establish or preserve,
through their co-​ordinated actions. His work remains insightful precisely because
most of today’s accounts of international law neglect the role of peace and justice
as a starting point of legal reasoning, a goal of state action, and even a source of
international law.
In drawing this insight from Suárez’ work, one needs to be careful, however, to
avoid a common mistake. For Suárez would have been adamant that all moral val-
ues exist as potentialities even if neither he nor any of his predecessors or successors
had affirmed these ideas. Given this independence of moral values (such as peace

1 The following remarks on historical introductions apply most closely to James Crawford,
Brownlie’s Principles of Public International Law (8th edn, 2012), pp. 3–​11; see also Malcolm N. Shaw,
International Law (6th edn, 2008), pp. 14–​27; Antonio Cassese, International Law (2nd edn, 2005),
pp. 23–​4.

Francisco Suárez S. J. on the End of Peaceful Order among States and Systematic Doctrinal Scholarship.
Tobias Schaffner. © Tobias Schaffner, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 57

and justice) from Suárez’ work, this chapter faces a difficulty which any contribu-
tion on a theologian or natural lawyer meets: it must give an account of Suárez’ work
and at the same time convey an idea of the lasting values which, arguably, exist
independently of his work. I will argue that today’s textbooks ultimately suffer not
from insufficient attention to the works of scholars like Suárez, but to values such
as peace and justice.2
As indicated, international law textbooks credit the works of Suárez and his con-
temporaries as key for the development of a separate or new discipline of the law
of nations. The textbooks tend to explain this development as a consequence of the
rise of the modern state in the sixteenth century—​the rise of states made lawyers
shift from applying private law rules to rulers and peoples to applying another type
of law to states: the law of nations. This (allegedly) new law was mainly gained
through analogies from (Roman) private law (jus commune).3 Textbook authors
seem to assume that the answer to the follow-​up question—​why analogies from
private law should be relevant for international law—​is somehow obvious.4 It will
certainly seem obvious to today’s law students, since international law is taught and
examined as a subject distinct from private law.
Few international lawyers today seem to wonder whether the substantive over-
lap between private law rules and international law rules—​e.g. between tort law
and state responsibility—​points to ends and values shared by these branches of law.
We will see that, for Suárez, treating other citizens in conformity with the rules of
private law (and criminal law)—​respecting their life, bodily integrity, and prop-
erty—​is characteristic of the civic friendship which citizens grant each other and
which constitute them as members of their political community (see Section III.2.b
below). Suárez saw that citizens can only preserve the peaceful order of their com-
munity if (i) they treat the other members justly—​i.e. if they possess constant and
perpetual willingness to render each one his or her due—​and, in case someone fails
to show such respect, if (ii) the wrongdoer corrects the injustice by compensat-
ing his victim either willingly or as a consequence of being coerced. Suárez con-
sidered that this same civic friendship or mutual respect is due to every human
being, because we are all part of the one community of mankind. Nations need
to treat each other with respect in order to secure a peaceful and minimally just
‘inter-​national’ order (see Section III.2.d below). The political community and

2  To be fair, Crawford’s Brownlie’s Principles (n. 1) (i) refers to the idea of justice and appeals to
social needs (p. 7), but the idea of justice is not explained, nor are the relevant social needs enumer-
ated. Moreover, although the book mentions the common good (p. 11), the term appears only in a
quote from John Finnis’ Natural Law and Natural Rights (2011) and its connection to peace and justice
remains unexplored.
3  The influence of canon law principles (Church law) on the law of nations is still little explored.
4  There are illuminating accounts of the role of private law analogies in international law. The best
known is probably that of Hersch Lauterpacht. In her careful analysis of Lauterpacht’s mature position,
Amanda Perreau-​Saussine shows that for him ‘private law analogies act as one of the crucial sources
or mediators between ideas of natural law or justice and international law’, see her ‘Lauterpacht and
Vattel on the Sources of International Law: The Place of Private Law Analogies and General Principles’,
in Vincent Chetail and Peter Haggenmacher (eds.), Vattel’s International Law from a XXIst Century
Perspective (2011), pp. 167–​85.
58 Tobias Schaffner
the ‘inter-​national’ community thus share the same ends; it is this sharing of ends
which underpins the private law analogies.
Today’s international lawyers seem barred from such substantive engagement
with Suárez’ thought, because they follow the established doctrine of sources,
a doctrine which seems to exclude consideration of Suárez’ work (for an expla-
nation why this conclusion is wrong see Section II.2 and Section V below).
According to this doctrine, international law is primarily state-​made law: it is law
based on the will of states (on their consent) as reflected in treaties, customary
law, and generally recognized principles of law (Articles 38.1 of the Statue of the
International Court of Justice). To the limited extent that international lawyers
and courts rely on doctrinal writings, i.e. the works of private scholars claim-
ing no public authority for their views, they resort to ‘the teachings of the most
highly qualified publicists’ and these teachings are only ‘subsidiary means for
the determination of rules of law’ (Articles 38.1 lit. d ICJ Statute). Surprisingly,
the International Court of Justice sometimes cites the work of Suárez (and more
often, albeit still rarely, that of Grotius).5 Still, the use made by the Court of the
work of these ‘founding fathers’ is negligible: they do not qualify as ‘most highly
qualified publicists’ of contemporary international law. Disputes are decided on
the basis of international treaties, customary law, and case law—​not by reading
Suárez’ work.
The topic of the present book, the ideas of order and system in international
legal thought, invites us to reflect on a point which is perplexing if one subscribes
to the current approach: why should international law amount to a system and
guide states to co-​exist in an orderly fashion, if this law is exclusively based on the
will of states? We should expect constant violence and dissolution of order if states
or their governments were driven by an unqualified, arbitrary will. Yet, for consider-
able stretches of history, governments have refrained from war and actively sought
to preserve a peaceful order. Equally, (most) international lawyers are guided by an
ideal of a peaceful and (minimally) just order.
Neither the way lawyers are trying to contribute to a peaceful order nor the
approximate actualization of this ideal in the (peaceful) practice of governments
can be ascribed to arbitrary will: something more needs to be present in the will.
Yet the current approach to international law staunchly refuses to explain what
this ideal is. Suárez’ work is insightful because it holds out the possibility to over-
come the neglect of this ideal. As we will see, especially the idea of peaceful order,
including a peaceful order among nations, holds a commanding place in his work.
Suárez, one should hasten to add, was highly aware that the realization of this
ideal in practice is eminently fragile. He knew that, at any given moment, govern-
ments (e.g. a ruling party or a dictator and his lawyers) can be overcome by a will
or desire for power, or wealth, or glory leading them to invade another nation. If
human beings share a desire for peace and friendly co-​existence, they only do so

5  See e.g. the Separate Opinion of Judge Cançado Trindade in the case of Ahmadou Sadio Diallo
(Republic of Guinea v. Democratic Republic of the Congo), I.C.J. Reports (2010) 729–811.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 59

at times and in an unstable way. Most of us, that is, lack the constant and perpetual
willingness to render each one his or her due.

II.  Biographical, Intellectual, and Historical Background

1. Life and work
Francisco Suárez was born in Granada in 1548 and died in Lisbon in 1617.6 He
studied civil and canon law from 1561 to 1564 and, after joining the Jesuit Order,
philosophy and theology (1565–​1570). The Jesuit Order was founded in the six-
teenth century as a reaction to the Reformation and was deeply involved in reform-
ing the Catholic Church (the Counter-​Reformation) and in defending its teachings.
Suárez worked as a professor of theology and philosophy at various universities,
including those at Rome, Salamanca, and Coimbra. He already enjoyed immense
scholarly authority during his lifetime, as can be seen from the important tasks
assigned to him, including a defence of the Catholic faith against Anglicanism.
Suárez left a vast body of work in theology, philosophy, and law. In the most
easily available (yet incomplete) nineteenth-​century edition it spans twenty-​six
volumes.7 In philosophy, Suárez is best known for his Metaphysical Disputations
(1597). He wrote even more extensively on almost every aspect of Christian the-
ology, including God, the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love, grace (i.e.
divine aid), and the life of Jesus.
In legal philosophy, Suárez is best known for his On Laws and God the Lawgiver
(De Legibus ac Deo Legislatore) of 1612.8 Far from being a treatment of the sub-
stance of the law of nations (jus gentium), the treatise is an exercise in something
akin to general legal theory. It defines and clarifies the different types of law which
moral theologians applied as confessors. Confessors had to be knowledgeable about
law, because a good Christian is called to comply with all (just) laws. The treatise’s
ten books thus contain a careful discussion of the generic idea of law (lex), eter-
nal law (moral truth as it is known by God), natural law (human beings’ imper-
fect knowledge of moral truth), state law (jus civile), Church law (so-​called canon
law), customary law (i.e. unwritten law based on the custom of a people or several
nations), Old Law (the positive divine law of the Old Testament, including the Ten
Commandments), and the New Law promulgated by Christ.9 Today’s international

6  For a recent biography see Sydney Penner, ‘Francisco Suárez (1548–​1617)’, September 2015,
<http://​www.sydneypenner.ca/​suarez.shtml>; see also P. Monnot et al., ‘Suárez’, Dictionnaire de
Théologie Catholique, cols. 2638–​728.
7  Francisco Suárez, Opera Omnia, 26 vols, ed. Charles Berton (1856–​61).
8  A translation of extracts of De Legibus (as well as of Defensio Fidei, De Fide, and De Bello) can be
found in Francisco Suárez, Selection from Three Works of Francisco Suárez S.J., vol. 2, trans. Gwladys
Williams, John Waldron, and Henry Davis (1944).
9  For a complete list of Suárez’ writings relevant for law see P. Monnot et al., ‘Suárez’ (n. 6); or
John P. Doyle, ‘Suárez on Human Rights’, in V. M. Salas (ed.), Collected Essays on Francisco Suárez, S.J.
(1548–​1617) (2010, first published 2001).
60 Tobias Schaffner
lawyers who turn to the treatise are likely to be disappointed to find little of rel-
evance to their discipline in this vast work. The following examination of Suárez’
contribution to the idea of order in international legal thought therefore draws on
his entire work, not just on his De Legibus.

2. Intellectual background:  Aristotelian–​Thomism

A description of Suárez’ intellectual background allows us to clarify how his philo-
sophical outlook differs from the outlook of most twenty-​first century international
lawyers. As mentioned, Suárez was a Jesuit university professor. The Jesuit Order’s
Regulation of Studies (Ratio Studiorum) prescribed its teachers to use the Summa
Theologiae of the Dominican theologian Thomas Aquinas (1225–​1274) as the main
work to be taught and commented upon.10 It is therefore impossible to understand
Suárez’ work without considering Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae.11
In this vast work, Aquinas attempted to offer a complete introduction to
Christian theology for students of the subject. It deals with God, his creation, and
the way back to God through a moral life, as paradigmatically lived by Jesus. Apart
from relying on his own intellect, Aquinas wrote the Summa by drawing on the
Bible, the tradition of the Church fathers and later theologians, as well as on a num-
ber of pagan philosophers. Aristotle stands out among the latter. Aquinas sought
to incorporate as much of Aristotle’s philosophy into theology as is compatible
with the Christian worldview. Accordingly, it has become customary to refer to his
strand of theology as Aristotelian–​Thomism.
Suárez was a follower of Aristotelian–​Thomism, even if—​or, more accurately,
precisely because—​he retained a critical stance vis-​à-​vis Aquinas and Aristotle. In
his writings, Suárez heavily relied on Aquinas’ work and the sources used by him, as
well as on the works of theologians closer to Suárez’ own time, including those who
established Aristotelian–​Thomism in Spain, such as Francisco de Victoria (1483–​
1546) as well as the so-​called Nominalists such as Duns Scotus (1266–​1308) and
William of Ockham (1287–​1347).
Such extensive use of Christian and pagan authorities from a distant past will
make most international lawyers feel even more uneasy about the suggestion to
draw substantive lessons from Suárez’ work. The modern doctrine of sources seems
to differ radically from Suárez’ approach to legal sources. The contrast points to
important differences between his philosophical outlook and the outlook from
which the current doctrine of sources arose.
Suárez considered himself to be engaged in a direct dialogue with his predeces-
sors, including Aquinas, who lived more than 300 years earlier, and, even more

10  Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, 5 vols., trans. The Fathers of the Dominican Province
(1948).
11  For a discussion of the relationship between Suárez’ work and the Summa Theologiae, see Monnot
et al., ‘Suárez’ (n. 6); and my ‘Is Francisco Suárez a Natural Law Ethicist?’, in Kirstin Bunge et al. (eds.),
The Concept of Law (lex) in Moral, Legal, and Political Thought of the ‘School of Salamanca’ (2016), pp.
150–71.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 61

surprisingly, with Aristotle, who lived 2,000 years earlier and who, after all, was
not even a Christian.12 This direct dialogue was made possible, because Suárez con-
ceived of philosophy and theology as a collective search for the one moral truth about
the human condition and our common destiny in the vision of (the one) God. It is
a search for a truth about moral values (such as peace and justice) and laws indicat-
ing ways to realize those values. For Suárez, none of these values depend for their
existence on the authority of Aristotle or Aquinas, they simply exist as potentialities
to be actualized or realized through human action.13 Thus, peace is, for instance, a
potentiality, which nations can realize through their co-​ordinated actions (e.g. by
abstaining from invasion). Although human beings can actualize moral values, they
are perfectly actualized only in God.14
Suárez distinguished between three categories of values or goods: (i) distinctly
moral values such as peace, justice, friendship, and love, as well as (ii) morally neu-
tral goods such as health and survival, and (iii) apparent goods, which, if pursued
for their own sake, are immoral ends such as pleasure, wealth, power, and glory.15
For Suárez, moral values such as peace and justice held good for Aristotle and his
contemporaries as much as for Aquinas and himself.
Suárez saw himself engaged in a direct dialogue with Aristotle, Aquinas, and
many others about lasting moral values. For him, philosophy did not consist in a
dialogue about the works of past philosophers. Nor did he rely on the authority
of these works in order to prove the existence of moral values, he relied on them
because they contain judgments of reason articulating these values and guiding
readers (sometimes misguiding them) how to realize a particular value, for instance
how to be a good friend. It is necessary to insist on these points, since the present
contribution faces the difficult task to mitigate between writing about Suárez’ work
and conveying an idea of his belief in values, such as peace, which (he argues) exist
as potentialities independently of his own work.
As noted, for Suárez values such as peace and justice held good for human beings
in ancient times as much as in his own. Yet, he was not naïve: he was perfectly aware
that human beings—​even wise philosophers like Aristotle or Aquinas—​have only
imperfect knowledge of moral truth and hence sometimes err about values or about
the way to realize them. Only God had perfect knowledge of moral truth (eternal
law). Moreover, Suárez was also keenly aware that knowing what a given value

12  The idea of a direct dialogue is indebted to Wilhelm Hennis, Politik und Praktische Philosophie:
Eine Studie zur Rekonstruktion der Politischen Wissenschaft (1963), pp. 18, 26. Christians could rely
on pagan reason, because for them ‘faith perfects reason, it does not corrupt it’, see the references in
my ‘The Eudaemonist Ethics of Hugo Grotius (1583–​1645): Pre-​Modern Moral Philosophy for the
Twenty-​First Century?’, Jurisprudence 7(3) (2016), 478–522.
13  For Suárez’ moral objectivism see his Disputationes Metaphysicae, vol. 25, Opera Omnia, Disp.
X. s. II, §§12–​13 (n. 7); and De Bonitate et Malitia Humanorum Actuum, vol. 4, Opera Omnia, Disp.
II, s. II, §12 (n. 7); for his view that moral goodness is a potential to be actualized by human beings
see Suárez, Disputationes Metaphysicae, vol. 26, Opera Omnia, Disp. XXIII, s. VIII, §§6–​8 (n. 7). For
a discussion see my ‘Is Francisco Suárez a Natural Law Ethicist?’ (n. 11).
14  For references see my ‘Is Francisco Suárez a Natural Law Ethicist?’ (n. 11).
15 Suárez, De Fine Hominis, trans. Sydney Penner, September 2015, <http://​www.sydneypenner.ca/​
translations.shtml#dfh>, Disp. V, s. I.
62 Tobias Schaffner
requires in a particular situation is never sufficient for right action: right action
requires that one also wills the action that one’s reason recognizes as right.16
Still, many of today’s readers will consider Suárez’ position implausible: changes
in moral opinion and in cultural practices seem to indicate that all moral values
are relative. Surely, then, there are no lasting moral values? This seems to open two
avenues for criticism. One way is that of radical criticism: the rejection of Suárez’
belief in lasting moral values and at least some lasting moral standards (or laws). The
second way consists in criticizing, one by one, particular judgments of his about
certain values or ways to attain them, e.g. to establish that he is wrong that wives are
subordinated to their husband in marriage.
What many critics seem to overlook is that they cannot have it both ways. If they
are persuaded that particular moral judgments of Suárez (and the tradition upon
which he relies) are mistaken, then they cannot at the same time reject the exist-
ence of lasting moral values and standards. For holding that Suárez was mistaken
about (say) the status of women in marriage is tenable if and only if the moral
standard which allows the critics to make this judgment is a moral standard which
holds good for Suárez as much as for us today! Even those who consider themselves to
be moral relativists discover, upon reflecting on such instances, that they actually
believe in lasting moral values and at least some lasting moral standards (the pro-
hibition of murder is an obvious candidate). Of course, these values and standards
were neglected in earlier times and are being neglected in some or all parts of the
world today. This neglect is, however, not a reason to deny the values and standards
themselves, but rather a reason to think of values as potentialities and to distinguish
between values and our (imperfect) understanding and/​or actualization of them.
Could the idea of a peaceful world order—​an idea which exists independently
of the work of a Suárez or Aquinas—​also be such a lasting ideal and does this ideal
still guide the most highly qualified publicists of international law as well as many
governments and ordinary citizens today?

3. Historical background: Modern or medieval?

Characterizations become perhaps even more contentious when we turn from a
description of Suárez’ intellectual background to the larger historical picture. Recent
accounts tend to argue that Suárez is either a modern thinker or, at the very least, a
transitory figure placed at the watershed between the Late Middle Ages and (Early)
Modernity. In support of this view, scholars mainly refer (i) to the Reformation,
and (ii) to the discovery of the New World in 1492 leading to an increase in Spain’s
military and economic power as well as to great intellectual and artistic flourishing
in the sixteenth century (siglo de oro).17

16  See his discussion in De Actibus Qui Vocantur Passiones, in vol. 4, Opera Ominia (n. 7), esp. Disp.
III, s. IV, §8 (incontinentia) and s. VII.
17  In addition to the accounts in the works referred in n.  1 above, see e.g. Norbert Brieskorn,
‘Francisco Suárez und sein Gesetzesbegriff im Kontext’, in M. Walther, N. Brieskorn, and K. Waechter
(eds.), Transformation des Gesetzesbegriffs im Übergang zur Modern? Von Thomas von Aquinas zu Francisco
Suárez (2008), pp. 105–​23.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 63

The standard account is correct that Suárez reacted to these major events. Yet, schol-
ars mistakenly claim that they led Suárez to develop a modern position. Instead and in
line with his—​in a literal sense—​conservative mindset, Suárez reacted by defending a
long established Catholic position—​already articulated by Aquinas.18
None of the aforementioned events forced Catholics to revise their worldview.
(i) From a Christian perspective, the discovery of the New World was less radical than
its portrayal by non-​Christians today makes it appear. For Christians, their religion
did not exist from the dawn of time (of course, God existed prior to creation). Instead,
Christianity arose at a particular point in history in a Judeo-​pagan environment, i.e. in
a mainly Jewish community within the Roman Empire: with the birth of Christ in
Bethlehem.19 It slowly spread from Jerusalem to Asia Minor and Rome and from there
to other parts of Europe (Scandinavia, for instance, was Christianized between the
eighth and the twelfth centuries). At least among Christian intellectuals, awareness of
pagans inhabiting more or less distant lands never faded and trade with non-​Christians
continued throughout.20 It is difficult to see, then, what dramatic change intervenes
with Columbus’s discovery of simply yet another series of pagan peoples. (ii) The
schism of the Church into a Catholic and several Protestant parts was foreshadowed
by the eleventh-​century schism between the Western and the Eastern Church. As for
the theological challenges posed by Protestantism, these did not require a fundamental
modification of Catholic dogmas, but their restatement and defence.21

III. Theory

1. Suárez’ theological approach to law

Although an authority in law and philosophy, Suárez was first and foremost a theolo-
gian. He approaches law, like all matters of morality, from a theological perspective
because, for him, only the theologian (or Christian) is capable of a comprehensive
understanding of the human condition.22
Suárez follows Aquinas in conceiving of the human condition as marked by
a grand scheme devised by God. All creation—​inanimate things, animals, and
human beings—​has come forth from God (exitus) and is called to return to him
(reditus).23 Unlike non-​rational animals which follow their natural instinct by

18 Suárez denied both the Pope and the Emperor universal temporal jurisdiction, see Section
III.2.c) below.
19  On the transition from the Old (Jewish) Law to the New Law see Suárez, De Legibus, vol. 6,
Opera Omnia, Bk. IX and X (n. 7). For a historical account of the spread of Christianity see e.g. Jean
Daniélou, L’Eglise des Premiers Temps (1985).
20  Consider only Augustine’s critical engagement with paganism and that of Aquinas with Judaism
and Islam in his Summa Contra Gentiles.
21  The issue is obviously complex and would require detailed engagement, above all, with the
Council of Trent (1545–​1563).
22 Suárez, De Legibus, Preface (n. 8).
23  For Suárez’ reliance on the exitus–​reditus scheme, see e.g. De Fine Hominibus, Preface §1 and §8,
and Disp. V, s. II, §§4–​5 (n. 15). For the following points see the works cited in n. 11 above.
64 Tobias Schaffner
necessity, human beings are capable of returning to God in a self-​directed way
because they possess reason and (free) will. For Suárez, God is not only the creator
of the world, but also an ocean of perfection: perfect actualization of being, truth,
and moral goodness (perfect love, perfect justice, etc).24 The way back to this ocean
of perfection requires human beings to perform good moral actions so as to gain a
state of peace within themselves as well as with other human beings and God.25 The
way to such peace with oneself and others is chiefly a life of love and justice; divine
laws and counsel as well as human laws guide us on this way.26
A perfect state of peace is attainable only among the blessed who see God in the
next life (Augustine’s City of God): the blessed are confronted with an object of
such overwhelming goodness that they cannot but love what they see. This perfect
peace at the heart of theology transcends the peace attainable in this life, whether
the peace of the soul—​the subject matter of ethics—​or the temporal peace between
citizens or nations—​the subject matter of political philosophy. From this briefest of
sketches of Suárez’ intellectual framework we can already start to see that the idea
of a peaceful order plays a central role in Christian theology.
In the Preface to De Legibus, Suárez deploys this multi-​faceted idea of peace in
order to articulate the difference between his theological approach to law and the
approach of ancient (pagan) philosophers and lawyers trained in Roman law. These
latter only explain
those human laws which help to keep a commonwealth or state in justice and in peace; and,
at the most, they touched somewhat upon natural law in so far as it can be made known by
human reason and serves as guide for the moral rectitude of acquired virtues.27
Suárez recognizes the temporal ends of peace and justice which are knowable by
human reason without revelation, i.e. knowable by so-​called ‘natural reason’. Yet,
for him, the pagan philosophers’ and jurists’ way of treating ‘of the laws … fails to
transcend the natural end; nor does it even touch upon all its phases, but only upon
such phases as are necessary to preserve the external peace and justice of the com-
monwealth’.28 The theologian, by contrast, in addition to considering the peace
and justice of the commonwealth, also considers what is necessary to attain an inner
peace of the soul and peace with God. For Suárez, like for Aquinas, all just laws offer
guidance on our way back to God, either directly (as in the case of divine worship)
or indirectly by disposing us to goods connected to God (as is the case for justice).29
As a theologian, Suárez devotes the most detailed observations to the relationship
between human beings and God rather than to the relationship between nations
and temporal peace. He does, however, also make important observations on the

24 Suárez, De Fine Hominis, Disp. V, s. III, §§3–​4; also s. II, §7 (n. 15).

25 Suárez, De Charitate, vol. 12, Opera Omnia, Disp. II s. III, §6, p. 646 (n. 7).
26 Suárez, De Legibus, Preface (n. 8).
27 Suárez, De Legibus, Preface (n. 8). The acquired virtues are (i) practical reasonableness (pruden-
tia), (ii) temperance (reasonable use of alcohol, food, sex, and wealth), (iii) courage, and (iv) justice.
28 Suárez, De Legibus, Preface (n. 8).
29  See e.g. Suárez, De Bonitate et Malitia Humanorum Actuum, vol. 4, Opera Omnia, Disp. II, s. II,
§14, pp. 295–​6 (n. 7).
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 65

relationship between human beings themselves when he turns to state law (jus civ-
ile) and to the law of nations (jus gentium).

2. Communities as orders of practical reasoning

a) A Suárezian critique of legalistic approaches to the state
For a proper understanding of Suárez’ approach to the law of nations, it is (again)
useful to contrast his approach to that of today’s international lawyers. The latter have
the tendency of limiting their attention to three main actors in the ‘inter-​national’
order: states, international organizations, and individuals. States are, moreover, still
commonly defined by reference to the 1933 Montevideo Convention on the Rights
and Duties of States:
The state as a person of international law should possess the following qualifications: (a) a
permanent population; (b) a defined territory; (c) government; and (d) capacity to enter into
relations with the other states.
Suárez would have rejected the idea that one can define the state in purely legal terms
and without an account of its purpose. He recognizes that the existence of states or
political communities can only be adequately understood from the perspective of
political philosophy offering an account of their formation.30 For him, unlike for
most of today’s lawyers, neither the existence of states nor that of any other commu-
nity should be taken for granted. Following Aristotle’s observation that ‘man is a social
animal’,31 he gives an account of how families decided to unite as political communi-
ties or states and how these form a universal community of states. For Suárez, each
such community represents a distinct order of practical reason: its members direct their
actions to the realization of the particular community’s distinct end or ends.

b) The political community as an order of practical reason

For Suárez, we understand the formation of communities by adopting the internal,
practical perspective of their founders: it is from their perspective that we can identify
the end they chose to pursue in common. Like the forming of a family, the found-
ing of a state depends on human choice and human actions directed at a certain
good or end. States are not naturally given.32 As Suárez notes:
there is a further necessity among human beings for a political community, consisting at
least of a city state (civitas), and formed by a coalition of a number of families … if the

30  The terms ‘state’ and ‘political community’ are used interchangeably as referring to communi-
ties of citizens. The state, thus understood, is distinguished from its government and other public
authorities.
31 Suárez, De Legibus, vol. 5, Opera Omnia, Bk. III, Ch. I, §3 (n. 7) (referring to Aristotle’s Politics,
Bk. I, Ch. V); see also §§4–​5.
32 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. I, §11 (n. 7) (natural law has not in and of itself, and without
the intervention of human will, created political subjection); and with regard to state law, Bk. III,
Preface, §2.
66 Tobias Schaffner
individual families were divided one from another, peace could scarcely be preserved among
men, nor could wrongs (iniuriae) be duly averted or avenged.33
Natural practical reason indicated to the founders that only a community larger
than the family and under the rule of a government with coercive force is strong
enough to secure peace vis-​à-​vis other communities, i.e. freedom from invasion, and
a peaceful and just order within its boundaries.34 In referring to wrongs (iniuriae)
Suárez is thinking of crimes as well as acts of injustice like a breach of contract: a
political community consists of members who do not commit such acts against each
other (they recognize each other as citizens). If the members nevertheless commit
an injustice, it is either corrected spontaneously or through law courts. Elsewhere
Suárez adds that the political community, in addition to peace and justice, should
also seek to secure sufficient material goods for people to survive and to lead a con-
venient life and to enforce the probity of morals necessary for peace and justice.35
The Aristotelian–​Thomists call this compound end the ‘(political) common good’
or ‘the common good of the political community’ (bonum commune).36
Suárez also offers a definition of the political community. It must consist of (i) a
multitude, (ii) bound together by some agreement or alliance (foedus), (iii) existing
under a head, and (iv) with a certain end.37 When he refers to an agreement or alli-
ance, Suárez does not think of a written constitution, but of the alliance between
the isolated families. It is a ‘special volition or common consent’ to gather ‘together
into one political body through one bond of fellowship and for the purpose of
aiding one another in the attainment of (in ordine ad) {one} political end’.38 For
Suárez, the family and the state, although distinct orders of practical reasonableness
also form part of two larger communities each of which has its own end distinct
from the other communities.

c)  Th
 e church and the state–​church relationship
It is tempting to assume that Suárez’ conception of the Church is irrelevant for his
approach to international law. Yet, this is a mistaken assumption: for him, Jesus had
come to replace the Jewish synagogue, which was open only to Jews, with a uni-
versal Church, a community open to all human beings.39 For Suárez, the Church

33 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. I, §3 (emphasis added) (n. 8).

34 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. I, esp. §§2–​12 (n. 8).
35 Suárez, De Legibus, vol. 5, Opera Omnia, Bk. III, Ch. XII, §7 (n. 7); and De Fide, Disp. XVIII,
s. III, esp. §7 (n. 8).
36  Often Suárez omits the qualification ‘political’ because it is clear from the context which concept
of common good he envisages, see e.g. De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. II §4 (n. 8).
37 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. I, Ch. VI, 19 (n. 8).
38 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. II, §4 (n. 7), curly brackets, i.e. ‘{}’, indicate passage where I have
corrected the English translation. Nota bene: In tyrannical states, state law and practice are directed at
the good of the ruler or the ruling elite, e.g. their desire for (immoral) ends such as power or wealth, see
Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. I, Ch. I, §6; Ch. VII, §11; Ch. IX, §4 (n. 8).
39 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. I, Ch. VI, §18 (n. 7); vol. 5, Opera Omnia, Bk. IV (n. 7); and Suárez,
Defensio Fidei Catholicae et Apostolicae contra Errores Anglicanae Sectae, trans. George Moore and Peter
Simpson, <http://​www.aristotelophile.com/​Books/​Translations/​Suarez%20Defense%203.pdf>, Bk.
III, Ch. VI, §8.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 67

is thus a universal community (he uses the term ‘Church’—​Latin ecclesia—​to refer
to the visible community of the baptized, not to its institutions and officials). The
laws of the Church apply across state-​borders to all its members worldwide. Given
this universal community whose officials have global jurisdiction, one may wonder
why Suárez should continue to see any need for states.
In answering this question, it is again important to remember that the Christian
Church was established in a Judeo-​pagan environment. The Bible reports that Jesus
taught that a good Christian renders unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God
what is God’s.40 For the early Christians and for one strand of Christian theologians
(not for all, see below) this was an exhortation to respect the sovereign power of the
state within its own, temporal sphere (in suo ordine).
As emerges clearly from Suárez’ work, one can only determine how far the sov-
ereign independence of Christian states extend vis-​à-​vis the Church by identifying
the end of the political community—​i.e. temporal peace and justice—​as well as the
end(s) of the Church. For Suárez the Church has two ends which are reflected in
Canon law:
The one consists in the establishment in the whole ecclesiastical state of a due political order,
the preservation in that state of peace and justice, and the regulation by right reason of all
that relates to the forum externum of the Church. The other end consists in the right and
prudent ordering of all things relating to divine worship, the salvation of souls and the purity
of faith and moral conduct.41
The passage reveals two points about the Church–​state relationship: the Church
has (i) exclusive competence over the ‘purity of faith and moral conduct’ in the
forum internum, and (ii) seemingly shared competence concerning ‘a state of
peace and justice’ in the forum externum. Such shared competence would, of
course, jeopardize the independence of the state in its own sphere. The Church’s
jurisdiction concerning peace and justice applies, however, chiefly to the clergy
or ‘ecclesiastical state’. In addition, it is a jurisdiction which allows the Church
to impose, for the sake of peace and justice within its distinct community, stricter
rules on its members qua Christians than those found in the political commu-
nity. Canon law, for instance, prohibited the charging of interests—​so-​called
usury—​while state law tolerated usury (of course still without morally approving
of interests).
Suárez followed a strand of Catholic theologians in inferring from the separate
ends of Church and state that the Church only holds indirect power over the state,
it has no direct jurisdiction in temporal affairs over citizens qua citizens.42 State

40 Suárez, Defensio Fidei, Bk. III, Ch. IX, esp. §9 (n. 39).

41 Suárez, De Legibus, Preface (n. 8); see also vol. 5, Opera Omnia, Bk. IV, Ch. VIII, §4 (n. 7).
42 Suárez, De Legibus, vol. 5, Opera Omnia, Bk. III, Ch. VI (n. 7); Defensio Fidei, Bk. III, Ch. 5,
esp. §8 (referring to Major, Cajetan, Victoria, Soto, Bellarmin, Covarruvias, Navarrus, Bertrandi, and
several Popes) and Ch. XXIII (n. 39). There is abundant literature on the indirect power of the Church
over the state, see e.g. Heinrich Rommen, Die Staatslehre des Franz Suárez S.J. (1926), pp. 235–​69;
Reinhold Schwarz, Die eigenberechtigte Gewalt der Kirche (1974), esp. pp. 39–​53 and pp. 72–​89; a
(too) critical account is given by Harro Höpfl, Jesuit Political Thought: The Society of Jesus and the State,
c. 1540–​1630 (2004), Ch. 14.
68 Tobias Schaffner
authorities thus enjoy relative sovereignty in the temporal order directed towards
earthly peace and justice; the Church can intervene only if rulers jeopardize their
own spiritual good or that of their citizens.
It is common among historically interested international lawyers to assume that
the authentic Catholic position was to affirm that the Pope had full jurisdiction
over states, Christian and non-​Christian alike. Proponents of this view like to refer
to the Papal Bulls by which the Pope seemed to divide the newly discovered lands
between Spain and Portugal. This ‘Papal donation’ suggests that states were insuffi-
ciently sovereign for a true international law to develop as long as the one respublica
Christiana was in place.
Some Popes and canonists affirmed this position. Yet, Suárez expressly denies
that the Church has temporal power over states: when Popes divide territories of
unbelievers among temporal princes, they do so
not in order that the former may take possession of these regions according to their own will,
for that would be tyranny, … but in order that they may make provision for the sending of
preachers … and may protect such preachers.43
The Pope’s intervention is thus directed exclusively at the salvation of people’s soul,
not at a temporal end. Regarding the issue of preaching in foreign lands, we should
note in passing that Suárez staunchly opposed direct coercion for the purpose of
conversion.44 For him, ‘God has reserved for His own judgement … the sin of
unbelief ’, ‘because otherwise the human race could not be governed with peace
and justice’.45
Suárez even expressly affirmed the sovereign independence of states within the one
respublica Christiana (which for Suárez extends before and after the Reformation): the
state’s relative sovereignty in the temporal sphere gave rise to ‘inter-​national’ rela-
tionships between independent states—​ he expressly names Spain, France, and
England—​even though they were ‘kingdoms of the Church’.46 This is even more
true for non-​Christian states which are not ‘kingdoms of the Church’. We shall now
turn to Suárez’ account of the great community of nations formed by all states.

d) The great community of nations

Following Aristotle, Suárez emphasized that too large a community cannot be rea-
sonably governed. According to him, it would ‘hardly be possible, and much less
would it be expedient’ to set up a single (temporal) government over mankind (i.e.
a world-​state).47 For Suárez, ‘it is not necessary to the preservation or welfare of

43 Suárez, De Fide, Disp. XVIII, s. 1, §7 (n. 8).

44 Suárez, De Fide, Disp. XVIII, s. I, §9 and s. III, esp. §§5–​7 (n. 8). On indirect conversion see
Suárez, De Fide, Disp. XVIII, s. I, §§8–​11.
45 Suárez, De Fide, Disp. XVIII, s. III, §12 (n. 8).
46 Suárez, Defensio Fidei, Bk. III, Ch. V, §7 (n. 39).
47 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. II, §5 (n. 8). The qualification ‘hardly’ is perhaps intended to
make room for the universal government of the Church.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 69

nature, that all men should thus congregate in a single political community’.48 The
community of states lacks a head or legislator and an agreement (foedus) of the kind
one associates with a state.49 Suárez rejected the view of Bartolus and some other
jurists that the Emperor has supreme temporal power over states, even over states
belonging to the Roman Empire.50
Although the human race does not form a state, the separate political communi-
ties are, according to Suárez, united as a quasi-​moral and political community with
a distinctive end: a common good of a temporal and political nature. It is worth
quoting his explanation in full, since his understanding of an international legal
order depends on these points:
[H]uman race, into howsoever many different peoples and kingdoms it may be divided,
always preserves a certain unity, not only as a species, but also a {quasi} political and moral
unity, {as is indicated by} the natural precept of mutual love and {compassion}; a precept
which applies to all, even to strangers of every nation. Although a given {perfect} state (civi-
tas), commonwealth (respublica), or kingdom (regnum) may constitute a perfect community
in itself, consisting of its own members, nevertheless, each one of these [perfect communi-
ties] is also, in a certain sense, and viewed in relation to the human race (ad genus humanum),
a member of that universal society, for these states when standing alone are never so self-​
sufficient that they do not require some mutual assistance, association, and intercourse, at
times for their own greater welfare and advantage, but at other times because also of some
moral necessity or need.51
Suárez presents the distinctive common good of the universal society of nations
as consisting of two components: a necessary component—​consisting, as he clari-
fies elsewhere, of peace and justice—​and a component which is concerned with
the greater welfare and advantage (ad melius esse majoremque utilitatem).52 This
greater welfare encompasses, for instance, a higher standard of living achieved
through cross-​border commerce. He even gave as an example of jus gentium the
‘freedom to contract commercial agreements with persons not actively hostile’.53
The common good of nations is thus a complex good. Peace and justice are archi-
tectonic ends: the community of states ought to secure these ends whatever fur-
ther ends it pursues. Thus an increase in the freedom of trade must not jeopardize
peace and justice, a point relevant for instance in case of arms trades with hostile
nations.
For Suárez, the peaceful order of the great society of states is, however, only a
temporal good, subordinate to salvation. It is not the goal of the community of

48 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. II, §5 (n. 8).

49 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XX, §1 and Bk. III, Ch. II, §6 in fine (n. 8).
50 Suárez, Defensio Fidei, Bk. III, Ch. 5, §§6–​7 (n. 39).
51 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XIX, §9 (see also §10) (n. 8) curly brackets, i.e. ‘{}’, indicate
passage where I have corrected the English translation. Suárez goes on to add that his observations are
based on actual usage.
52  Suárez returns to the idea of this two-​fold common good and clarifies that the necessary part
consists of peace and justice at De Legibus, Bk. III, Ch. II, §6 (n. 8).
53 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XIX, §7 (n. 8).
70 Tobias Schaffner
states to directly foster our salvation other than by securing the subordinate end
of a just peace between states. State authorities have only jurisdiction in the forum
externum: they are entitled to punish subjects who violate temporal peace and justice
through their external acts; state authorities have no coercive jurisdiction to punish
merely internal acts, nor to punish sins against virtues other than justice (justice is
understood here in a narrow sense, mainly acts against life, bodily integrity, and
property).54 These limits on state jurisdiction apply both in the domestic order and
in the international order.55 It is the universal (Catholic) Church which has, as we
saw, exclusive jurisdiction over the purity of people’s mind (inner peace) and the
salvation of their souls in its forum internum (i.e. the forum of the confessional).56
Having clarified Suárez’ teachings on the community of states and its distinct,
temporal end, we can now finally turn to his treatment of the law of nations (jus
gentium).

3. The law of nations as a legal order of natural and positive laws

It is tempting to approach Suárez’ concept of the law governing the relationship
between nations anachronistically by discussing only his teachings on the law
between nations and only insofar as positive law is concerned, i.e. law laid down by
nations. Yet, Suárez did not focus on legal precepts applicable to states as juridical
entities (see Section III.3.a) below), nor did he limit his discussion to positive law
(see Section III.3.b) below). After clarifying these issues, we will consider his con-
cept of the law of nations (see Section III.3.c) below).

a) Primary focus on individuals

To the limited extent that Suárez discussed particular legal precepts, e.g. those gov-
erning just war, he focused on rules which apply to individual human beings, both
to ordinary persons and to rulers. He wrote from the perspective of a theologian: his
primary concern is the salvation of souls; yet states—​or mystical persons (persona
mystica) as he calls them—​do not have a soul. Similarly, Suárez ascribed rights to
human beings; here again, his focus is on the rights of persons (not of states) and
the individual’s duty to respect other persons’ rights.57
At one point, he did, however, expressly establish the analogous applicability of a
legal rule applicable between individuals to whole states (respublicae).58 The case con-
cerns blasphemy. For Suárez, blasphemy, although a sin against natural reason, does not
involve an act of injustice against human beings (i.e. harming others). Injustice is only

54  This distinction is, for instance, relevant to determine the causes of just war, see Suárez, De Bello,
s. IV, §8 (n. 8).
55  Suárez held that only the injured state is entitled to punish crimes in the ‘inter-​national’ order,
see De Bello, s. IV, §5 (n. 8).
56  See Suárez, De Censuris, vol. 23, Opera Omnia, Disp. I, s. 2, §2 (n. 7).
57  For a useful discussion see Doyle, ‘Suárez on Human Rights’ (n. 9).
58 Suárez, De Fide, Disp. XVIII, s. IV. §3 (n. 8).
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 71

involved in blasphemy if, for instance, heathens sacrifice innocent people to their gods.
State law grants impunity to an individual or ruler who commits blasphemy without
harming others. According to Suárez, this impunity is also granted to states: states
committing simple blasphemy (without human sacrifice) benefit from impunity from
punitive war. Although we may assume that for Suárez such analogies hold in a great
variety of cases, his treatment differs from that of today’s international lawyers by tend-
ing to treat primarily of the rights and duties of individuals and only secondarily of
states.

b) A legal order consisting of natural and positive law

It would be equally anachronistic to move straight to a consideration of Suárez’
account of the positive law of nations. For Suárez, positive jus gentium is only one
part of the law governing the relationship between nations. In addition to positive
jus gentium, these relationships, e.g. war, are subject to rules belonging to natural
law, (positive) divine law and, in the dealings between Christians, to canon law. The
natural law prohibition of murder, for instance, is applicable in war between states:
it prohibits the unjust party from killing its opponents. This natural law prohibition
is not only confirmed by positive jus gentium, but also by positive divine law (the
Ten Commandments) and canon law, all equally applicable between (Christian)
nations. Given the interplay of these different types of law, it would be mistaken
to present Suárez’ treatment of the law of nations as if it was limited to positive law
of nations. This is all the more true, since a number of rules of positive law merely
confirm or declare rules of natural law, as in the case of the prohibition of murder
declared by e.g. a statute of criminal law (lex declarativa), but holding indepen-
dently from the statute.59
Still, Suárez devoted a separate chapter to the concept of jus gentium in the sense
of positive law applicable between nations (inter gentes), for instance (unwritten)
customary rules concerning the reception and immunity of ambassadors or norms
governing the treatment of prisoners of war. In the chapter, Suárez explains that the
positive law of nations, where it does not simply declare rules of natural law, adds
something to the limited or minimal regime of natural law: here positive law has a
constitutive force (so-​called lex constitutiva). His point can be illustrated using the
positive law institution of ambassadors as an example. The example also serves to
clarify the relationship between natural law and positive law.
For Suárez, temporal peace and justice are subordinate, yet necessary (i.e. indis-
pensable) ends of a moral life leading to God or eternal peace. We are called to
preserve these goods at the very least by not thwarting them (e.g. by abstaining
from unjust war). Yet, peace and justice among nations could be preserved either

59  On the distinction between declarative and constitutive positive law, see Suárez, De Legibus, Bk.
II, Ch. XVI, §5 and Ch. XIX, §3 (n. 8); vol. 5, Opera Omnia, Bk. III, Ch. XXI, §10 and vol. 6, Opera
Omnia, Bk. IX, Ch. IV, §§18–​19 (n. 7). The Ten Commandments are lex declarativa, they declare pre-
cepts of natural law, see Bk. II, Preface and Ch. VII, §§6–​7; Ch. X, §1 (n. 8); and vol. 6, Opera Omnia,
Bk. IX, Ch. IV, §18 (n. 7).
72 Tobias Schaffner
without the institution of ambassadors at the courts of other nations (e.g. simply
by abstaining from unjust war) or through other means (e.g. by means of ad hoc
envoys). This institution is therefore not strictly necessary for the common good of
nations: nations have a choice between different means.60
If permanent ambassadors were the one and only means, nations would have
no choice. In this case, natural reason would recognize the institution as a strictly
necessary means (like taking a boat to cross the sea) and dictate its adoption: it
would be prescribed by natural law (nota bene: natural law consists of the dictates
of natural reason).61 As pointed out above, the regime of natural law rules is lim-
ited or minimal: it only consists of a small set of precepts. This is the case because
it is rare that human beings are left with one, and only one, means to attain their
moral ends.
Although not the only means, the institution of ambassadors is such a highly use-
ful means for ‘inter-​national’ peace and justice that the usefulness was recognized
by ‘all or nearly all nations’.62 The choice by which the institution was introduced
has constitutive force. For Suárez, the introduction of such unwritten rules of posi-
tive jus gentium does not require all nations to consent at one and the same time;
customary rules are gradually introduced.63

c) Suarez’ concept of the law of nations and its connection to the common good
In Section III.3 we have so far seen that Suárez conceives the law of nations as
applicable primarily to individuals and only secondarily to states and as consisting
of rules of natural law and of human and divine positive law. But what allows him
to group these rules under the single concept of the law of nations, i.e. what makes
them a distinct legal order? This question brings us back to the idea of the common
good of mankind. The central role of this idea emerges from the way Suárez distin-
guishes jus gentium in the sense of the law between nations from jus gentium in the
old, Roman law sense. As an illustration of the latter, Suárez refers to the prohibi-
tion of marrying a person of another religion, a prohibition found in many states in
his time. This prohibition is part of jus gentium in the Roman law sense, because it
is similar to laws in other countries, yet it does not serve ‘the general intercourse and
fellowship of the human race, but rather the {particular good} of the {community}
within which the prohibition is found’.64 From this passage, we can see how Suárez
distinguishes between domestic legal orders and the ‘inter-​national’ legal order: the
former serves the good of a particular political community or state, the latter serves
the common good of the human race. What remains to be clarified is whether

60 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XIX, §7 (n. 8); on positive law (jus gentium) as based on free will
(liberum arbitrium) or will (voluntas /​ab arbitrium hominum) see Bk. II, Ch. XIX, §3 and §5; and Ch.
XX, §2.
61 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XIX, §2 (n. 8); for the boat example see Aquinas, Summa
Theologiae, Ia q. 19 a. 3; Ia q. 82 a. 1; IIIa q. 1 a. 2 c.; q. 65 a. 4 c. (n. 10).
62 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XIX, §6 (n. 8).
63 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XX, §1 (n. 8).
64 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. XIX, §10 (n. 8).
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 73

Suárez considers that the rules belonging to this legal order form a legal system and
can be systematically treated by jurists.

4. Systematic legal scholarship on the law of nations

Asking whether, for Suárez, the law of nations forms a legal system confronts the
interpreter with an immediate difficulty: Suárez did not write the kind of treatise
that most of us today regard as the paradigm of systematic legal scholarship, a
treatise like Hugo Grotius’ De Jure Belli ac Pacis.65 In this (systematic)66 treatise,
Grotius presents the fundamentals of public law, of private law, i.e. property law,
contract law, and tort law, of certain rules of the law of nations, and of criminal law,
following a clearly perceptible order.67
The fundamental, albeit not exclusive,68 aim of De Jure Belli ac Pacis is that of
the jurists whom Suárez describes in the Preface to De Legibus (see Section III.1
above): he sets out the law which orders nations to the temporal peace and justice
of the human race (forum externum). In his lectures on war (De Bello), Suárez, by
contrast, approaches war as a theologian writing for the forum internum. He treats
war from the perspective of the theological virtue of love that directs us to the com-
mon good of the next life. Yet, although Suárez did not write a systematic treatise of
the law of nations for the forum externum, his Aristotelian–​Thomist understanding
of communities as distinct orders of practical reason and his teleological concept of
law are the very key that Grotius used to construct the system underlying De Jure
Belli ac Pacis.
The greatest model of all systematic doctrinal treatises was, perhaps, a theologi-
cal treatise: Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae. In its preface, Aquinas expressly points out
that the plan of his treatise reflects the order of the world.69 Thus, Part I of the Summa
Theologiae treats of God and the flowing of creation from God (existus); Part II
treats of the way back to God (reditus) through human action, virtue, law, and
grace. Part III presents Jesus’ exemplary way back to God. This same exitus-​reditus
scheme underpins Suárez’ systematic presentation of theology.70
We may assume that, for Suárez, jurists should seek to reflect the order of the tem-
poral world in their treatises on the law of nations. This is compatible with the theo-
logical outlook, since Aristotelian–​Thomists consider the community of nations as a
distinct locus of practical reasoning. The distinct end of this community—​temporal

65  Hugo Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pacis, trans. Francis W. Kelsey (1925).
66  Like Suárez, Grotius nowhere uses the word ‘system’ and its cognates; he instead speaks of ‘impos-
ing the form of an art’ (forma artis) on law, see De Jure Belli ac Pacis, Prol. §30 (n. 65).
67  Even just a brief look at the table of contents will confirm this, see esp. Grotius, De Jure Belli ac
Pacis, Bk. I, Chs. III–​V, and Bk. II, Chs. II–​XXI (n. 65); for the treatise’s overall plan see Prol. §§33–​5.
68  See the many references to love (caritas) and the law of love (lex dilectionis) throughout the trea-
tise, e.g. De Jure Belli ac Pacis, Bk. II, Ch. I (n. 65), and the requirements to attain heaven in Bk. III,
Ch. X, §iii; and the discussion in my ‘The Eudaemonist Ethics of Hugo Grotius’ (n. 12).
69 Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Preface (n. 10), where he affirms that a treatise on moral theology
ought to be structured ‘according to the order of the subject matter’ rather than ‘according as the plan
of the book might require’.
70  See n. 11 above.
74 Tobias Schaffner
peace and justice—​is in harmony with, albeit subordinate to, the otherworldly
peace. Accordingly, jurists should divide their systematic treatment of the law of
nations into two parts: an outline of the rules governing the peaceful order among
nations characterized by the respect of other nation’s rights, followed by the rules on
just war which govern the way back to peace, in case unjust war has disrupted peace.
What remains to be clarified is whether the large number of norms prescribing
very diverse actions and omissions contributing to peace and justice among nations
form a single legal system. The still popular voluntaristic approach to international
law has difficulty justifying this view; for why should international law form a
(coherent) system if a norm qualifies as a norm of international law solely because it
has been established by the (at least potentially) arbitrary will of states?
Aristotelian–​Thomists, by contrast, have no difficulty explaining the existence of
legal systems. This can be seen from Aquinas’ explanations concerning the diversity
of precepts of the Ten Commandments. As he notes, many actions and omissions
‘may happen to be necessary or expedient to an end; and, accordingly, precepts may
be given about various things as being ordained to one end.’71 Similarly, Suárez jus-
tifies the attribution of diverse rules to natural law by noting that they ‘proceed, by
a certain necessity, from nature, and from God as the Author of nature, and all tend
to the same end, which is undoubtedly the due preservation and natural perfection
of felicity of human nature’ (emphasis added).72
Law, although consisting of different branches, forms a single system, because
the conduct prescribed by the different branches contributes to the one political
common good. The ideal of a peaceful order in the practical sphere is thus reflected
in the system of legal norms in the practico-​theoretical sphere. This systematic
order extends beyond the precepts of natural law to positive jus gentium, despite
the fact that positive jus gentium is based on the choice of all or nearly all nations.
This is the case, because (or to the extent that) the choices do not rely on arbitrary
will (this is nota bene the point which proponents of the voluntaristic approach
to international law as well as many textbook writers refuse to address). Rather,
the rules of positive law of nations determine a specific way of preserving the com-
mon good of nations by selecting (choice) one reasonable way and prescribing it
for all. The actions chosen and prescribed by positive jus gentium, like the actions
prescribed by natural law, contribute to the same end: a peaceful and just ‘inter-​
national’ order. This directedness towards the same practical end makes them part
of one legal system.

IV.  The Reception of Suárez’ Aristotelian–​Thomist Theory

The international lawyer interested in the history of the discipline asks for the
reception of Suárez’ work in treatises on the law of nations. It is useful, however,

71 Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I-​II q. 99 a. 1 c. (n. 10).

72 Suárez, De Legibus, Bk. II, Ch. VII, §7 (to be read in conjunction with §5) (n. 8); see also
Ch. VIII.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 75

to remember that the narrow focus on the law of nations, whilst compatible with
Suárez’ theology,73 is the focus adopted by lawyers, not by theologians. There is a
history of the reception of Suárez’ thought in Catholic theology and a very different
history of its reception in international legal thought.
It makes little sense to examine Suárez’ influence on the discipline of the law of
nations solely by reference to his own work. First, he makes only scant references
to substantive norms of the law of nations apart from treating war (see esp. Section
II.1 above). Second, Suárez understood himself to be part of a broad theological
movement, Aristotelian–​Thomism. We should therefore ask for this movement’s
influence on international legal thought.
Members of this movement, including Domingo de Soto, Louis Molina, and
Suárez’ pupil Leonard Lessius dealt with substantive law in treatises entitled De
Justitia et Jure. As theologians, they wrote their treatises for the forum internum.
It was these treatises—​more than Suárez’ work—​which served Hugo Grotius as a
guide for his De Jure Belli ac Pacis: from them (as well as from e.g. Gentili’s De Jure
Belli) he took many of the substantive rules for his book on the law of nations. Yet,
unlike the theologians, Grotius wrote his treatise mainly with a view to temporal
peace and the forum externum.74
Whilst Grotius openly acknowledged his debt to the Catholic theologi-
ans, some later Protestant natural law scholars—​above all Samuel Pufendorf
and Christian Thomasius—​ hailed him as a great innovator who rejected
Aristotelian–​Thomism.75 In the nineteenth century, confessional bias led
Protestant historians to stylize Grotius as the ‘father of international law’. This
image was questioned only in the wake of the broad revival of Thomism, so-​
called neo-​Thomism, in the late nineteenth century.76 For the past one hundred
years, historians have sought to determine the extent of Grotius’ debt to the
Spanish Thomists.77
In the same period, we can also witness renewed interest in Suárez’ thought and
Spanish Aristotelian–​Thomism more generally.78 One prominent international
lawyer who highlighted the relevance of Suárez’ views for the present time was the
Austrian Alfred Verdross (1890–​1980).79 Verdross expressly defended the lasting
validity of the common good of the large society of states. More recently, John
Finnis (born 1940) has drawn on Suárez (of whom he is generally very critical) as

73  The idea of communities as distinct orders of practical reasonableness with their distinct ends
allows for such specialization.
74  See my ‘The Eudaemonist Ethics of Hugo Grotius’ (n. 12), esp. the references cited at n. 40.
75  See my ‘The Eudaemonist Ethics of Hugo Grotius’ (n. 12).
76  See esp. Josef Kohler, ‘Die spanischen Naturrechtslehrer des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts’, Archiv für
Rechts-​ und Wirtschaftsphilosophie 10(3) (1917), 235.
77 For an overview with references to the works of Hans Thieme, Ernst Reibstein, Robert
Feenstra, Alfred Dufour, and many others see Wim Decock, Theologians and Contract Law: The Moral
Transformation of the Ius Commune (2013), pp. 643–​6.
78  See Rommen, Die Staatslehre des Franz Suárez (n. 42).
79  See Alfred Verdross and Bruno Simma, Universelles Völkerrecht: Theorie und Praxis (3rd edn, 1984),
pp. 8–​13, esp. p. 12; Verdross, ‘Der klassische Begriff des “bonum commune” und seine Entfaltung zum
“bonum commune humanitatis” ’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 28(1)
(1977), 143–​62, 157–​8.
76 Tobias Schaffner
well as on Aquinas in a remarkable essay on just war.80 In philosophy, Suárez has
found an eminent defender in the Oxford Professor Terence Irwin.81 Most recently,
Markus Kremer translated a selection of Suárez’ writings relevant to the law of
war.82 Kremer’s introduction to the translation (as well as his doctoral thesis listed
in the Bibliography below) marks a clear turn to interpretations of Suárez which
pay attention to his theological outlook.

V. Conclusion

A contribution on Suárez’ work which takes his outlook seriously cannot end with a
historical account of his work’s reception. Typically, the question of a work’s recep-
tion is a question asked by historians. But why should we accept that Suárez’ work
is the proper subject matter of the history of international legal thought? This seems
natural, of course, if we accept the still popular understanding that international
law is exclusively grounded in the will of states. Lacking state authority, legal trea-
tises written by private scholars such as Suárez’ treatises then appear naturally as
irrelevant for contemporary international law and hence as the proper subject mat-
ter for legal historians.
International lawyers seem also barred from consideration of Suárez’ work,
because the modern doctrine of sources qualifies the writings of all publicists, even
of more recent publicists than Suárez, only as subsidiary source of international
law. Surprisingly, however, this is exactly the view taken by Suárez himself, and
the tradition in which he stands. For him too, treatises written by scholars pos-
sess no special authority. From his point of view, the problem with the modern
doctrine of sources does not consist in relegating the publicists to a subsidiary
role, but its failure to acknowledge the central role of the values which lie beyond
or behind the primary sources as well as behind the subsidiary sources: the ideal
of a peaceful and just order among states. For Suárez, these values are as much
sources of international law as are international treaties or customary law. They are
even its ‘meta-​sources’, yet they are not mentioned in the ICJ Statute and perhaps
for this reason textbooks do not accord them the place they deserve. As we saw,
Suárez would readily admit that there is need for a mechanism—​such as treaties
or customs—​to authoritatively determine which one of a number of reasonable
ways of preserving a just and peaceful order should be binding for all states (see
Section III.3.b above). For him, this authoritative determination is effected by the
law of nations. The law of nations, if it is directed towards a peaceful and just order,
is based on will and reason, not on state will alone.83

80  John Finnis, ‘War and Peace in the Natural Law Tradition’, in Collected Essays, vol. 3 (1996,
reprint 2011).
81  Terence Irwin, The Development of Ethics: From Suárez to Rousseau, vol. 2 (2008).
82  Francisco Suárez, Über den Frieden –​über den Krieg, Markus Kremer ed. (2013).
83  I would like to thank the editors for their helpful comments on an earlier draft.
 Francisco Suárez S.J. 77

Selected Bibliography
Finnis, John, ‘War and Peace in the Natural Law Tradition’, in John Finnis (ed.), Human
Rights and Common Good:  Collected Essays, vol. 3 (Oxford:  Oxford University Press,
2011), pp. 183–​208.
Irwin, Terence, The Development of Ethics: From Suárez to Rousseau, vol. 2 (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2008).
Kremer, Markus, Den Frieden verantworten: Politische Ethik bei Francisco Suárez (1548–
1617) (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2008).
Rommen, Heinrich, Die Staatslehre des Franz Suárez S.J. (Mönchengladbach: Volksverein
Verlag, 1926).
Verdross, Alfred, ‘Der klassische Begriff des “bonum commune” und seine Entfaltung zum
“bonum commune humanitatis” ’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht und
Völkerrecht 28(1) (1977), 143.
 4
Jean Bodin on International Law
Merio Scattola†

I.  The Problem of Sovereignty, or: Is Jean Bodin a Classic

Author in International Law?

Undoubtedly Jean Bodin (1530–​1596) is a classic writer in the history of political

and legal thought, whose name is closely linked with his masterpiece, Six livres de
la république1 (Six Books of the Commonwealth), and to the doctrine of sovereignty
that he explained in the famous eighth chapter of the first book. Therefore we
may not understand Bodin as a classic in international law, and actually his name
and his work do not appear among the twenty-​two books of the series ‘Classics
of International Law’, edited by James Brown Scott (1866–​1943) and published
between 1911 and 1950 by the Carnegie Institution of Washington, a series that
fostered, in the early twentieth century, the idea that a small number of outstand-
ing writers, living mainly in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, are responsi-
ble for the foundation of the international law.2 Among his contemporaries, the
names of Pierino Belli (1502–​1575), Baltasar Ayala (1548–​1584) and Alberico
Gentili (1552–​1608) have been preferred as a choice for the publication, since they

1  Published in French in 1576; Latin edition 1586.

2  The following books were all published in the series ‘Classics of the International Law’: 1. Richard
Zouche, Iuris et iudicii fecialis, sive, Iuris inter gentes (1650); 2. Balthazar Ayala, De jure et officiis bel-
licis et disciplina militari libri III (1582); 3. Hugo Grotius, De jure belli ac pacis libri tres (1646); 4. E.
de Vattel, Le droit des gens (1758); 5. Samuel Rachel, De jure naturae et gentium dissertationes (1676);
6. Johann Wolfgang Textor, Synopsis juris gentium (1680); 7. Franciscus de Vitoria, De Indis et de iure
belli relectiones (1696); 8. Giovanni da Legnano, De bello, de repraesaliis et de duello (1477); 9. Alberico
Gentili, Hispanicae advocationis libri duo (1661); 10. Samuel von Pufendorf, De officio hominis et civis
juxta legem naturalem libri duo (1682); 11. Cornelius van Bynkershoek, De dominio maris (1744);
12. Alberico Gentili, De legationibus libri tres (1594); 13. Christian von Wolff, Jus gentium meth-
odo scientifica pertractatum (1764); 14. Cornelius van Bynkershoek, Quaestionum iuris publici liber
duo (1737); 15. Samuel von Pufendorf, Elementorum jurisprudentiae universalis libri duo (1672); 16.
Alberico Gentili, De iure belli libri tres (1612); 17. Samuel von Pufendorf, De iure naturae et gentium
libri octo (1688); 18. Pierino Belli, De re militari et bello tractatus (1563); 19. Henry Wheaton, Elements
of international Law (1836); 20. Francisco Suárez, Selections from three works: De legibus, ac Deo legis-
latore (1612); Defensio fidei catholicae, et apostolicae adversus anglicanae sectae errores (1613); De triplice
virtute theologica, fide, spe, et charitate (1621); 21. Cornelius van Bynkershoek, De foro legatorum liber
singularis (1721); 22. Hugo Grotius, De iure praedae commentarius (1604).

Jean Bodin on International Law. Merio Scattola. © Merio Scattola, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford
University Press.
 Jean Bodin 79

explicitly addressed, in their works, topics of the relationships among nations like
warfare and diplomacy.
Both modern scholarship and the ancient legal or political literature share this
opinion. Critical assessments of Bodin’s contribution to topics related to interna-
tional law are quite rare,3 and the comprehensive introductions to his work dedicate
their explanations mainly to issues of the interior life in a commonwealth (sover-
eignty, the form of constitutions, the best constitution, climate and constitutions,
harmonic justice), but they do not pay attention to the doctrines related to the
relationships among commonwealths.4 The impression that Bodin is to be regarded
as a ‘classic in the doctrine of sovereignty’ becomes even stronger when we consider
the immediate reception of his doctrines in the late sixteenth and in the early sev-
enteenth century. This process began quite early, and already the first discussions
on Bodin’s work concentrated on a small number of theories. For instance, the first
Latin translation was issued in Germany as early as 1581, five years before the Latin
translation provided by Jean Bodin himself in 1586. This partial version, composed
by the German Catholic Johann Schröder, contained only the second book, De la
république, and presented it as a treatise on the different forms of constitutions, with
particular attention to the changes of constitutions and to political revolutions.5 In
this sense, it already identified, at this early stage, a main topic in the history of the
reception of Jean Bodin’s œuvre. His Six livres de la république were not composed
like a close deductive system, departing from a single principle as was the custom in
the late seventeenth century, but rather they departed from a collection of doctrines
that are gathered together in a series of commonplaces. Among the interesting and
sometimes original doctrines of this books are: sovereignty, the different forms of
constitutions (a question that was linked with the legal and historical judgment
on the Holy Roman Empire),6 the best constitution, the transformations of the
constitution and the historical revolutions, the climate, and the political order. The
polemical debates of the early seventeenth century concentrated on the regal pre-
rogatives (what the monarch might and might not do) and, among all doctrines of
the Six livres de république, paid the most attention to the question of sovereignty.
This was the case in France, during the religious wars that provided the backdrop
to the composition of this work. In the Italian territories, the same question arose
by dint of the papal interdict launched against the Republic of Venice in 1606;
in England, the oath of allegiance and, in the Empire, the formation of opposed

3 Guillaume Cardascia, ‘Machiavel et Jean Bodin’, Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 3

(1943), 129–​67; Virgilio Ilari, L’interpretazione storica del diritto di guerra romano fra tradizione rom-
anistica e giusnaturalismo (1981), p. 51; Margherita Isnardi Parente, ‘Introduzione’, in Margherita
Isnardi Parente (ed.), Jean Bodin, I sei libri dello stato: Volume primo, (1964), pp. 11–​100, at pp. 76–​7;
Diego Quaglioni, I limiti della sovranità. Il pensiero di Jean Bodin nella cultura politica e giuridica dell’età
moderna (1992), pp. 107–​39.
4  Simone Goyard-​Fabre, Jean Bodin et le droit de la république (1989). Cf. Artemio Enzo Baldini, ed.
Jean Bodin a 400 anni dalla morte: Bilancio storiografico e prospettive di ricerca (1997), p. 390.
5  Jean Bodin, Iohannis Bodini Galli, De speciebus rerumpublicarum liber ob eruditionem et histori-
arum multiplicitatem lectu non indignus, interprete Iohanne Schrodero. Subiectus iudicio amplissimorum
Magdeburgensis archidioecesis aulae consiliariorum (1581), fo. A1-​N8.
6  Cf. Jean Bodin, Methodus, ad facilem historiarum cognitionem (1566).
80 Merio Scattola
religious alliances were supported by similar debates about the competence of the
highest power in a commonwealth. Clearly, the main problem was whether legal
autonomy should be allowed within a republic or a kingdom, whereas the Catholic
church laid claim to a particular form of autonomy that granted the pope a right of
intervention against the king if the latter degenerated into a tyrant and threatened
the existence of the ‘true’ religion. This doctrine of the indirect power of the pope
in secular affairs configured the specific form of a Catholic right of resistance, and
therefore the discussion on sovereignty was always connected with the permissibil-
ity of resistance. Incidentally, this question also touched on an international topic
because from different sides it was maintained that a prince could intervene in a
war if foreign subjects were menaced by their legitimate sovereign who had degen-
erated into a tyrant. This situation configured what we would now call an interna-
tional right of humanitarian intervention.7 However, religious reasons could also be
understood as sufficient, thus presenting a basis for a right to religious intervention.
The doctrine of sovereignty of Jean Bodin was exactly in the middle of these
discussions, and in the early seventeenth century two different interpretations or
alternatives in political thought were formulated about the whole question of polit-
ical and supreme power. Some authors, guided by Iustus Lipsius (1547–​1606),
maintained that the supreme power of a king derives from its personal virtues,
which sometimes has supernatural elements and corresponds to a ray of divine
light. This line, which can refer back to Eusebius of Caesarea (263–​339),8 conceives
political power, imperium, as maiestas. The second line, on the contrary, consid-
ers imperium as summa potestas, that is, as a right, a set of rights, or a legal con-
struct.9 The most famous promoter of this interpretation was Jean Bodin, who
therefore appeared positively in numerous books and dissertations on majesty and

7 Merio Scattola, ‘Das Ganze und die Teile. Menschheit und Völker in der naturrechtlichen
Kriegslehre von Francisco de Vitoria’, in Norbert Brieskorn and Gideon Stiening (eds.), Francisco de
Vitorias ‘De Indiia’ in interdisziplinärer Perspektive. Interdisciplinary Views on Francisco de Vitoria’s ‘De
Indiis’, (2011), pp. 97–​120; Francisco de Vitoria, ‘De Indis /​Über die Indianer’, in Ulrich Horst,
Heinz-​Gerhard Justenhoven, and Joachim Stüben (eds.), Francisco de Vitoria, Vorlesungen (Relectiones).
Völkerrecht –​Politik –​Kirche (1995/​97), vol. II, pp. 370–​541, at pp. 478–​80. Jean Bodin, Les six livres
de la république (1583), liv. II, ch. 5; Stephanus Iunius Brutus, Vindiciae contra tyrannos, sive de principis
in populum populique in principem legitima potestate (1600), pp. 170–​87; Guilelmus Rossaeus, De iusta
reipublicae Christianae in reges impios et haereticos authoritate, iustissimaque Catholicorum ad Henricum
Navarraeum et quemcumque haereticum a regno Galliae repellendum confoederatione (1592), pp. 576–​
659; Iohannes Althusius, Politica methodice digesta atque exemplis sacris et profanis illustrata (3rd edn,
1614), p. 784. Vgl. Adhémar Esmein, ‘La théorie de l’intervention internationale chez quelques publi-
cistes français due XVIe siècle’, Nouvelle revue historique de droit français et étranger, 24 (1900), 549–​74,
at 564–​9; Merio Scattola, ‘Diritto medievale e scienza politica moderna nella dottrina della sovranità
di Jean Bodin’ Ius commune, 26 (1999), 165–​209, at 202; Mario Turchetti, Tyrannie et tyrannicide de
l’Antiquité à nos jours (2001), pp. 441–​2.
8  Eusebius Caesariensis, ‘De laudibus Constantini oratio in eius tricennalibus habita’, in Jacques-​
Paul Migne (ed.), Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Graeca (1857), to. 20, coll. 1315–​1440; Eusebius
Caesariensis, On the Theophania or Divine Manifestation of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, trans.
Samuel Lee (1843).
9  Merio Scattola, ‘Die Frage nach der politischen Ordnung: Imperium, maiestas, summa potestas in
der politischen Lehre des frühen siebzehnten Jahrhunderts’, in Martin Peters and Peter Schröder (eds.),
Souveränitätskonzeptionen. Beiträge zur Analyse politischer Ordnungsvorstellungen im 17. bis zum 20.
Jahrhundert (2000), pp. 13–​39.
 Jean Bodin 81

sovereignty published in the early seventeenth century. We can remember here the
explicit contributions given by Henning Arnisaeus (c. 1575–​1636), Jakob Bornitz
(c. 1560–​1625), and Christoph Besold (1577–​1638).10
But the doctrine of sovereignty was at the same time strongly refused and
opposed as it happened with Fabio Albergati and Antonio Possevino, who elabo-
rated the idea of a kinship, a participation in a similar ‘unorthodoxy’, between
Jean Bodin and Niccolò Machiavelli, an interpretation that was accepted in the
historia literaria until the eighteenth century, of course closely linked to the name
of Thomas Hobbes.11 Even in the late eighteenth century, a Catholic philosopher
like Salvatore Maria Roselli (c. 1710–​1784) still wrote that all disorder in moral
and political questions had come from the three evil-​doers Machiavelli, Bodin, and
Hobbes.12
Nevertheless, Bodin dedicates two chapters in his masterpiece to a presentation
of the relationships among independent commonwealths. However, these observa-
tions of his seem to provide only a very loose link to his theory of sovereignty. They
can be seen as two unrelated parts of the same complex of commonplaces, but
still they can even throw a very interesting light on the more familiar question of
sovereignty. If we take these chapters seriously into account, we can formulate the
following theses:
1. The theory of sovereignty applies only to the interior life of the common-
wealth, that is, to rule the relationships between the supreme power and its
subjects. It is an interior concept.
2. The relationships between independent supreme powers are not ruled by the
idea of sovereignty, which has no meaning and no application in this context
inter gentes. It does not even affect this situation, and therefore independent
powers cannot be understood as sovereign from one another, nor as com-
pletely independent. In their interactions, dealings, wars, and communica-
tions, they actually follow the rules of an external law.
3. We can divide the political life of a commonwealth into two spheres:  the
internal dominion has a top-​down pattern and is regulated by the idea of
absolute sovereignty, whereas the external sphere has a bottom-​up pattern
and obeys the rule of law.

10  Henning Arnisaeus, De iure maiestatis libri tres (1610); Henning Arnisaeus, De autoritate prin-
cipum in populum semper inviolabili seu quod nulla ex causa subditis fas sit contra legitimum principem
arma movere (1612); Jakob Bornitz, Torgensis iurisconsulti et consiliarii Caesarei et. c.  tractatus duo.
I. De maiestate politica et summo imperio eiusque functionibus. II. De praemiis in republica decernendis,
deque eorum generibus, differentiis et mutationibus (1610); Christoph Besold, ‘De politica maiestate in
genere. Resp. Daniel a Wensin’, in Collegii politici classis prima, reipublicae naturam et constitutionem
XII.  disputationibus absolvens, edited by Christoph Besold (1614), disp.  2, p.  30; Alberico Gentili,
Regales disputationes tres: id est, De potestate regis absoluta, De unione regnorum Britanniae, De vi civium
in regem semper iniusta (1605).
11  Daniel Georg Morhof, Polyhistor, in tres tomos (1708), lib. II, par. 4, p. 12.
12  Salvatore M. Roselli, Summa philosophica ad mentem Angelici doctoris sancti Thomae Aquinais. Pars
quarta. Ethicam complectens. Tom. VI (1788), quaest. 7, art. 1, pp. 316–​30, qui par. 541, pp. 327–​30.
82 Merio Scattola
4. However, we can finally also apply the external pattern to the internal domain
and find that the sovereignty itself is not as absolute as it seems; rather, it
admits in the internal life of a commonwealth the presence of an eternal order
of law which is superior to the sovereign.

II.  Relationships among Commonwealths

in the Six Livres de la République

Jean Bodin introduces explicitly what we may call ‘international law topics’ in the
fifth book of his République, particularly in the fifth and in the sixth chapter, pre-
senting in the former the questions related to warfare, and treating and reconstruct-
ing the ancient jus feciale in the latter. Actually, although Bodin points out the
existence of a clear link between both chapters,13 the former begins rather casually
and treats the question whether the building of castles and fortresses can improve or
damage the virtue of the citizens in a commonwealth. It is evidently a question that
echoes a main Machiavellian concern and that Bodin also explains by introducing
Machiavellian arguments and suggestions, such as the idea that a popular state
should be at best maintained in a condition of perpetual conflict with the surround-
ing enemies.14 Following the thread of Machiavelli’s arguments, Bodin touches on
the main points in a doctrine of war, albeit without any systematic arrangement. In
the treatment of this question, Bodin is clearly guided by the concern for identify-
ing the rules of prudent conduct in all different situations. Given this fortuity, it
cannot be said that both chapters together constitute a clearly defined part of legal
knowledge. They do not make up a separate discipline or a branch of political and
legal knowledge, a forerunner of the modern international law, but rather they
touch on two important issues in the right and prudent behaviour of a sovereign.
Bodin answers the question of the fifth chapter in a way that is very significant
for his method. In actual fact, he makes a subtle and articulated distinction because
different commonwealths have diverging natures and constitutions and therefore
react to the same problem in very different ways.
For, if you would like to say something generally valid, you must necessarily be mistaken
because different polities must be governed by different institutions and laws.15
However, it must be said in general that every war must be just and waged only
for defending a country from an aggression or for avenging an accepted offence.
Still, although some constitutions like in the Venetian Republic preferred to avoid

13  Jean Bodin, De republica libri sex, Latine ab autore redditi multo quam antea locupletiores (1586),
lib. V, cap. 6, p. 578 C.
14 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap.  5, p.  566 (n 13). See further the contribution by
Roth-​Isigkeit in this volume.
15 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 5, p. 557 (n. 13): ‘Nam si de toto genere dictum velint, in
maximis erroribus versari necesse est, cum dissidentes inter se rerumpublicarum status discrepantibus
institutis ac legibus moderari oporteat.’ English translation by the editors.
 Jean Bodin 83

conflicts as much as possible and to settle their quarrels with the enemies in a
peaceful way and through compromise, other democratic states like Switzerland
maintain its citizens in a permanent readiness for combat.16 A second main princi-
ple is that war must be necessary (necessarium) because it implies great destruction
and great peril for the whole commonwealth, and consequently it must be waged
only if there is no other way and the commonwealth is obliged to choose a path of
violence, when the citizens come ad extrema vitae pericula.17 In this case also, how-
ever, the sovereign must accurately weigh up the gain in case of victory against the
loss in case of defeat, opting for war only when the gain is greater than the loss.18
Thirdly, the war must be fought respecting all precepts of virtue, both with regard to
the reasons of beginning a war and the way of conducting it. Desire of conquest or
longing for richness and other forms of personal interest can never clearly constitute
sufficient reasons for a just war, and in fighting the enemy, the highest measure of
temperance must be observed.19
According to these three main principles, Bodin’s explanations on warfare remain
in the mainstream of traditional just war doctrines. Nevertheless, they formulate a
particular point of view because they combine two different and apparently oppo-
site observations, which we could easily identify with the Scholastics, on the one
hand, and with Machiavelli, on the other. On the one hand, it is actually evident
that a war must always be just and therefore can be waged only for the conservation
of peace and for the vindication of offences (traditional doctrine, Vitoria); but on
the other hand, it is also clear that a commonwealth defends itself in the best way by
instilling terror in its enemies, which can be done by maintaining its citizens con-
tinuously under arms (Machiavelli). Justice and virtue seem here to contradict one
another. Only the ancient Romans succeeded in overcoming this problem, because
they fought only just wars with the highest religious respect for all rules; and by
waging war, they could constantly improve the virtue of their citizens.20
The sixth chapter in the fifth book is dedicated to a systematic reconstruction of
the ancient jus feciale, which Bodin understands as a law that regulates the relation-
ships between foreign nations. The ancient ‘law of the nations’ actually reached much
further than modern ‘international law’ and indicated all kinds of legal situations
that could occur between two citizens of different nations, who therefore used dif-
ferent civil laws in their countries. Contracts, marriage, and slavery belonged to this
part of the Roman law, and public matters, like war or boundaries, occupied only a
small part of it, whereas its main interest lay in questions of the private sphere.21 The
jus feciale was, on the contrary, a religious institution that ruled exclusively over the

16 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 5, p. 558 D (Respublica Venetorum) and p. 566 C
(Helvetii) (n. 13).
17 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 5, p. 560 A (n. 13).
18 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 5, p. 570 C-​D (n. 13).
19 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 5, p. 560 A and p. 571 B (n. 13).
20 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 5, p. 563 D-​564 A (n. 13).
21  Digesta, lib. I, tit. 1, leg. 5 (Hermogenianus):  ‘Ex hoc iure gentium introducta bella, discre-
tae gentes, regna condita, dominia distincta, agris termini positi, aedificia collocata, commercium,
emptiones venditiones, locationes conductiones, obligationes institutae: exceptis quibusdam quae iure
civili introductae sunt.’
84 Merio Scattola
ceremonies of war and peace and was therefore understood by Bodin as that part of
the law which could offer a kind of ‘public law of nations’. Bodin defines it firstly
through its issues and secondly through its principle. The topics of this jus feciale are
the treaties of peace with the enemies, the treaties of alliance or federation, the trea-
ties of union when a new country or new citizens are accepted in a commonwealth
or when a prior unity got lost in a civil war and the enemy parties rebuild the original
society.22 All these relationships depend on a single first principle, on faith or loyalty
(fides), so that we could observe that all relationships inside a commonwealth are
ruled by maiestas or sovereignty, but all relationships outside a commonwealth refer
to fides. The former requires the presence of political subordination, while the latter
operates whenever no subordination is possible or when it has got lost. The funda-
mental insistence on the principle of faith necessarily produced a violent polemic
against Niccolò Machiavelli, who is not quoted directly in the text, but is indirectly
referred to in the subject index as the defender of a perverse kind of politics applied
by Pope Alexander VI and by his son, Cesare Borgia.
They say, that Cesar Borgia, sonne to pope Alexander the sixt, was like unto this monster
[Caracalla], whome Machiavel doth produce for the paragon of princes: he had learned of
his father to poyson such as he invited to a banquet: it cannot be said, which did exceed other
in treachery. Alexander the father never did that which he said, and Cesar his sonne never
spake that which he did: and both of them did religiously hold, that faith was to be given to
all men [fidem omnibus dari oportere], but to be kept with no man. Cesar gave his faith and
sware great oathes for the assurance of the peace which he had made with the princes that
were in league against him: and having drawn them together upon his faith, hee murthered
them cruelly whereas his father laughing, said, that he had shewed them a Spanish tricke.
But it was an extreame folly for the princes to put their lives into the hands of the most dis-
loyall and perfidious man living, and knowne for such a one: and even at such a time as he
was but subiect to the pope [alienae maiestatis subdito], and had no power to give his faith
to them [nec hostibus dare fidem] he put to death: so as the pope might have excused them
as his subiects and vassals [pontifex maximus, penes quem erat imperii maiestas], without
any note of treacherie. But none of them knew the jus feciale or any other decent thing.23
The given word must always be respected, and Bodin applies this rule to all dif-
ferent situations that appear in the jus feciale. We can choose one of the extreme
cases in order to exemplify all other ordinary cases. In particular, Bodin accuses

22 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 6, p. 578 B-​C (n. 13).

23 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 6, p. 602 B and Index, voc. Fides (n. 13): ‘Huic pesti
[= Caracallae] quamsimillimum fuisse ferunt Borgiam Alexandri VI pontificis Romani filium, qui a
patre, quos ad convivium invitaret, veneno necare didicerat. Uter utrum perfidia superaret, vix dici
potest: alterum enim ferunt numquam dicere, quae facturus esset, alterum numquam efficere, quae
dixisset, ac utrumque id unum pro summa religione persuasum habuisse, fidem omnibus dari opor-
tere, servandam nemini. Cum enim hostium duces ad pacis actionem deinde blanditiarum illecebris
ac iureiurando Alexandri filium ad se pertraxisset, crudelissime necari iussit, cui flagitio pater irridens:
“O factum bene!” inquit. Sed non minori temeritate homini perfidiosissimo quam imprudentia seip-
sos alienae maiestatis subdito committendos putabant, qui nec hostibus dare fidem nec sine pontificis
maximi, penes quem erat imperii maiestas, consensu pacisci utiliter poterant. Neuter tamen ius feciale
aut boni quidquam didicerat.’ English text: Bodin, The Six Bookes of a Commonwealth, trans. Richard
Knolles (1606); last sentence translated by the editors.
 Jean Bodin 85

some Roman lawyers of the past, amongst whom are Bartolo da Sassoferrato, Baldo
degli Ubaldi, and the canonist Francesco Zabarella, of having perverted the correct
interpretation of Roman law, since they admitted that a peace treaty signed after a
defeat implies a constraint for the losing party. In such a treaty, there is also a kind of
violence exerted by the winner on the loser, but a contract agreed to under violence
or the threat of violence is not valid. At the end of their argument, the aforemen-
tioned jurists concluded that a prince forced under these conditions to sign a treaty
can honestly break his word and be disloyal and treacherous.24 But if we admit this
interpretation, no treaty will resist firmly and all peace treaties will be broken with
the argument that they were agreed under the threat of violence. In this sense, no
war can ever be brought to an end other than with the complete destruction of one
of the warring parties. But the meaning of a peace treaty is precisely to put an end
to a war when one of the parties has prevailed and could use its force or its victory
to set forth the violence and possibly destroy the loser. The latter accepts the peace
conditions under the premise that otherwise his situation would be much worse.
Even in this case, where there is a clear asymmetry between the parties in a treaty,
faith must be conserved rigorously.25 And this principle applies to all cases and situ-
ations of a correctly understood jus feciale, that is, the most important relationships
amongst a free and independent commonwealth. Faith is The Trew Law of Free
Monarchies,26 and in the field of faith a king or a sovereign commonwealth cannot
decide and judge in his own case, but they must follow a rule that is above them.
We should therefore conclude that princes and kings and sovereigns in general
may freely create, change, and use the positive laws of their countries, where they do
not acknowledge any superior power above themselves. But when they go outside
the boundaries of their kingdoms, they are subject to a superior form of law that
does not depend on their will. This superior form of law must be before their will
and is part of the natural law. In this domain, the arguments of the sovereignty have
no force at all, and therefore we can observe that a sphere of the legal world, namely
the sphere that includes the war and the relationships among commonwealths, is
not subject to sovereignty and is ruled by natural law.

III.  A Method for a Missing Public Law of Nations

Bodin is to some extent conscious that he is going down a new path with his doc-
trine of jus feciale because the jurisprudence of his time needed integration and

24  Alessandro Tartagni, Consilia, lib. IV, cons. 48 [cf. III, 98]; lib. V, cons. 17 [= 16]; Francesco
degli Accolti detto l’Aretino, Consilia, 14; Filippo Decio, Consilia et responsa, 219; Baldo degli Ubaldi,
Consilia, III, 364 and 26; I, 40; Domenico da San Gimignano, Consilia, 124; Francesco Zabarella,
Consilia, 137, Bartolo da Sassoferrato, In Iam Digesti veteri partem, in leg. Conventionum, De pactis
[Digesta, lib. II, tit. 15, leg. 5].
25 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 6, p. 594 C (n. 13).
26  James I King of England, ‘The Trew Law of Free Monarchies. Or the Reciprock and Mutual
Duetie betwixt a Free King, and his Natural Subjects, 1598 and 1603’, in Charles Howard McIlwain
(ed.), The Political Works of James I (1918), pp. 53–​70.
86 Merio Scattola
improvement about a topic that had been completely neglected, both in the legal
and in the political learning of the past, although it was well known in the Roman
world.
This treatie depends of the former, the which ought not to be omitted, seeing that neither
lawyer nor politician hath ever handled it: and yet there is nothing in all affaires of state
that doth more trouble Princes and Commonweales, then to assure the treaties which they
make one with an other, be it betwixt friends or enemies, with those that be newters, or with
subiects.27
Although ancient Roman jurisprudence knew a large number of institutions in the
law of nations dealing with the private sphere, it did not develop a similar doctrine
for the public sphere, which remained vacant and defective, somehow longing for
fulfilment. The whole Corpus juris civilis was understood as a collection of private
law, while public law was identified with the ceremonies, the institutions, and the
magistrates of the city of Rome.28 This was one reason that prevented Roman juris-
prudence from the foundation of both a universal public law and of a universal
international law; and, as we can read in the last quotation, Bodin was aware of this
deficiency and of the duty that consequently fell upon the jurisprudence of his time.
In this sense, we can observe that this chapter underwent a particular evolution
between the French first edition of 1576 and the Latin translation of 1586. In the
first French editions of 1576 and 1577, it took the place of the eighth chapter in the
first book, i.e. the place of the famous chapter on sovereignty in the later editions,
and was entitled: ‘The keeping of treaties and alliances between princes’. Since the
third French edition in 1578, it was moved to its final position at the end of the fifth
book, and in the Latin translation of 1586 it received a new title, which pointed
out the presence of a particular variety of law: ‘On the ius feciale, on alliances and
on the way of making and enforcing treaties of peace between nations’, and it was
consistently enlarged with a schematic explanation of the most relevant notions in
the jus feciale. In this way, the same chapter was organized in a straight line of argu-
mentation and became much more systematic than before; it now figured as perhaps
the most systematic chapter in the whole work, so systematic in fact that it actually
looked like an independent treatise that could also be published and read on its own.
In 1583, the diplomat and lawyer Barnabé Brisson (1531–​1591) published his De
formulis et sollemnibus populi Romani verbis libri octo,29 in which he tried to give a

27 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 6, p. 578 B (n. 13): ‘Iura fecialia, quae superioribus sunt
consequentia, nec ab iureconsultis nec ab iis, quotquot der republica scripserunt, pertractata fuisse
videmus, cum tamen nulla re principes ac populi gravius periclitentur quam in pace cum hostibus
sancienda aut in foederibus feriendis aut in coeunda societate seu cum peregrinis seu cum civibus,
secessione quadam aut civili bello ab unione mutua distractis, agatur.’ English text: Bodin, The Six
Bookes of a Commonweale, trans. Richard Knolles (1606).
28  Digesta, lib. I, tit. 1, leg. 1, par. 1 (Ulpianus): ‘Huius studii duae sunt positiones, publicum et
privatum. publicum ius est quod ad statum rei romanae spectat, privatum quod ad singulorum utili-
tatem: sunt enim quaedam publice utilia, quaedam privatim. publicum ius in sacris, in sacerdotibus,
in magistratibus constitit. privatum ius tripertitum est: collectum etenim est ex naturalibus praeceptis
aut gentium aut civilibus.’
29 Cf. Ernst Holthöfer, ‘Barnabé Brisson’, in Michael Stolleis (ed.), Juristen: Ein biographisches
Lexikon. Von der Antike bis zum 20. Jahrhundert (2001), p. 102.
 Jean Bodin 87

complete description of the ancient Roman customs in the exchanges with other
nations. Using these new materials also, Bodin continued, in this chapter, a common
path in the construction of a public law of nations that still did not exist at the time,
and his merit was soon acknowledged by Alberico Gentili and Hugo Grotius (1583–​
1641), who both gave a definitive form to this branch of human knowledge.30
For the solution to this problem, the foundation of a public law of nations,
Bodin refers first of all to the legal tradition and to the arguments of the lawyers,
who commented on the Corpus juris civilis, which is particularly evident in the
chapter on the law of war. It has been observed that he prefers, for his definition of
the just war, the straight civil law materials and omits, especially in the French ver-
sion, the authorities that referred to the canon law tradition.31 He therefore follows
a traditional doctrine of the just war, but pursues more legal sources than theologi-
cal authorities, which was rather mainstream in the discussion of this topic in the
sixteenth century. He quotes Cicero on the necessity of respecting the given word
even under the worst conditions, but he ignores the fourfold distinctions of the dif-
ferent kinds of war given by Isidore of Seville (560?–​636), which was commonplace
in theological discussions.32
This preference of Bodin’s can be assumed as late evidence for the hypothesis of
Michel Villey (1914–​1988), who argues that in the Middle Ages and early mod-
ern times two separate traditions in natural law were active and influential for the
understanding of war: a legal tradition linked to the study of the Roman law and
a theological line influenced by the Stoic philosophy mediated by Cicero. This
hypothesis can perhaps still be useful if we consider those lines of transmission not
as substantial ‘traditions’, as Villey wanted them to be understood, but rather as
‘communities of discourse’ that used the same language and referred to the same
authorities in order to treat common problems.33

30 Ilari, L’interpretazione storica del diritto di guerra romano (n. 3); Diego Quaglioni, ‘Note’, in
Margherita Isnardi Parente and Diego Quaglioni (eds.), Jean Bodin, I sei libri dello stato: Volume terzo
(1988), p. 212.
31  Isnardi Parente, ‘Introduzione’, in Bodin, I sei libri dello stato, pp. 76–​7 (n. 3).
32 Cicero, De officiis (44 bc), lib. I, cap. 13, par. 41: ‘Ac de bellicis quidem officiis satis dictum est.
Meminerimus autem etiam adversus infimos iustitiam esse servandam. Est autem infima condicio
et fortuna servorum, quibus non male praecipiunt, qui ita iubent uti, ut mercennariis, operam exi-
gendam, iusta praebenda. Cum autem duobus modis, id est aut vi aut fraude, fiat iniuria, fraus quasi
vulpeculae, vis leonis videtur; utrumque homine alienissimum, sed fraus odio digna maiore. Totius
autem iniustitiae nulla capitalior quam eorum, qui tum, cum maxime fallunt, id agunt, ut viri boni esse
videantur. De iustitia satis dictum.’ Isidorus Hispalensis, ‘Etymologiarum libri XX’, in Jacques-​Paul
Migne (ed.), Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Latina (1850), to. 82, lib. XVIII, cap. 1, par. 2, col. 639:
‘2. Quatuor autem sunt genera bellorum, id est, iustum, iniustum, civile, et plusquam civile. Iustum
bellum est, quod ex praedicto geritur de rebus repetitis, aut propulsandorum hostium causa. Iniustum
bellum est, quod de furore, non de legitima ratione initur. De quo in Republica dicit Cicero: Illa iniusta
bella sunt, quae sunt sine causa suscepta.’
33  Merio Scattola, Krieg des Wissens –​Wissen des Krieges. Konflikt, Erfahrung und System der literarischen
Gattungen am Beginn der Frühen Neuzeit (2006); Merio Scattola, ‘Konflikt und Erfahrung. Über den
Kriegsgedanken im Horizont frühneuzeitlichen Wissens’, in Heinz-​Gerhard Justenhoven and Joachim
Stüben (eds.), Kann Krieg erlaubt sein? Eine Quellensammlung zur politischen Ethik der Spanischen
Spätscholastik (2006), pp. 11–​53; Merio Scattola, ‘Zu einer europäischen Wissenschaftsgeschichte der
Politik’, in Christina Antenhofer, Lisa Regazzoni, and Astrid von Schlachta (eds.), Werkstatt Politische
Kommunikation. Netzwerke, Orte und Sprachen des Politischen (2010), pp. 23–​54.
88 Merio Scattola
Faced with the problem of rebuilding or reconstructing an already existing
ancient public law of nations, however, the whole legal tradition or community
of discourse did not offer sufficient materials. Bodin was clearly aware of this defi-
ciency, since we no longer possess any collection of rules that the ancient Romans
applied in their international relationships, and such a collection had actually never
existed, but we now only have quite a large series of examples that show us all dif-
ferent forms of exchange between nations in antiquity. All these samples have been
gathered together in the ancient histories, above all in the history Ab Urbe condita
of Livy (59 bc–​ad 17), and what we can now do is to compare all the different
examples and extract from them all implicit general rules that the ancient Romans
applied and that constitute the ancient public law of nations. We should therefore
conclude that a general doctrine or a general description of a public law of nations
can be reached only on the basis of history: not theology, not jurisprudence, but
history.
In ancient foedera, nothing was inscribed except the names of the fetials of both peoples; in
sponsiones, the names of the military commanders or the envoys were inserted, as a Roman
consul [= Spurius Postumius Albinus], having made peace with the Samnites without orders
from the Roman people, discussed in a public assembly. Based on his speech [Livius, lib.
IX, cap. 8] and on historic accounts we can draw a distinction between foedus and sponsio
on the one hand and between both of them and pactio on the other, even if this is generally
confused by those inexperienced with the matter.34
This is exactly what Jean Bodin did in his two chapters on ‘international’ topics,
above all in the sixth chapter on treaties, since he gathered together a large number
of historical examples, from Livy, Polybius, Plutarch, and other ancient historians,
and developed his doctrine mainly with their help.
On such a historical foundation of the public law of nations we can formulate
two different observations dealing with the development of this discourse or form of
knowledge in the early seventeenth century. Firstly, what Bodin did in this part
of his work was highly congenial not only to his own method, but also to the way of
arguing in legal and political matters, a way that was characteristic for the French
kingdom in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century. We notice that in
early modern times political debates were clearly articulated within a number of
detached communities that used a common language, were made of similar social
components, developed exclusive literary genres for their communication and rec-
ognized one another as members of the same overarching community mostly by
the way of quoting. In France, the political discussions were led (especially during
the religious wars) by writers with a legal education who were inclined towards
a historical explanation or foundation of the jurisprudence of their time. Most

34 Bodin, De republica libri sex, lib. V, cap. 6, p. 578 D (n. 13): ‘In foederibus antiquis praeter
nomina fecialium utriusque populi nulla inscripta erant; in sponsionibus nomina ducum legatorumve
inserebantur, ut consul Romanus [= Spurius Postumius Albinus], qui cum Samnitibus pacem iniussu
populi Romani fecerat, in concione disseruit, ex cuius oratione [Livius, lib. IX, cap. 8] et ex historico-
rum fontibus discrimen foederis a sponsione et utriusque a pactione hausimus et expressimus, tametsi
haec ab imperitis confunduntur’; English translation by the editors.
 Jean Bodin 89

of them were also trained in legal matters and had a legal profession: as judges,
attorneys, counsellors, or even as presidents of a court or parliament. The names
of François Hotman (1524–​1590), Étienne Pasquier (1529–​1615), Jean Bodin,
Barnabé Brisson, and Charles Loyseau (1566–​1627) spring to mind. All of these
figures used legal arguments in their works, referring preferably to Roman law
sources that they interpreted in a historical way with the method of the mos Gallicus
or humanistic jurisprudence. They also used the works of the great contemporary
French historians like Philippe de Commines (1447–​1511) or Jacques-​August de
Thou (1553–​1617), who was a lawyer and magistrate. The legal treatise is the liter-
ary genre preferred in this French community of discourse.
Secondly, we can also observe that what Bodin did in his two chapters—​and
this was so familiar to his cultural environment—​became, after him, exactly the
program for a new and somehow independent branch of legal knowledge, that is,
what we can call a ‘public law of nations’ built on the materials of ancient traditions.
Through his strong inclination towards the mos Italicus, Alberico Gentili gave a
broad historical foundation to his doctrines about warfare and diplomacy, and the
historical examples of the ancient Romans were for him, too, the starting point of
his explanations.35 This programme was then developed in all its details by Hugo
Grotius, who was also considered, in the first history of jus naturae et gentium, the
founder of the discipline. He worked with an even more consistent method with
historical and literary sources, and therefore this line of international law, which we
call the ‘public law of nations’ and which had in him its first and most representative
writer, had a humanistic and historical origin.

IV.  Conclusions for the Doctrine of Sovereignty

The result of our considerations on the chapters that Jean Bodin dedicated to topics
of ‘international law’ in his Six livres de la république can be summarized as follows:
1. As regards the quantity and perhaps also the quality of his arguments on the
law of nations, Jean Bodin cannot be considered a ‘classic’ in international law.
2. Nevertheless, he offers important issues for discussion because he explicitly
tried to develop, albeit briefly, a new branch of legal knowledge that had not
existed before his time. This discipline had to comprise and to explain all rules
that regulated the ‘public’ intercourse among commonwealths or ‘nations’. In
this sense, and in the language of the sixteenth century, Jean Bodin worked
on the foundation of a ‘public law of nations’, a project that he shared with
other authors of his time, chiefly with the theologians in Salamanca.
3. Given the fact that Roman jurisprudence did not contain a systematic and
authoritative description of this topic, all rules, institutes, and customs of this
‘public law of nations’ had to be obtained and extracted from a careful study

35  See, for further elaboration, the contribution by Wagner in this volume.
90 Merio Scattola
of examples and models preserved in ancient history and elaborated in the
customs of ‘at least the more civilized nations’.36 This new branch of human
knowledge was developed by Hugo Grotius mainly on the basis of historical
and literary sources and therefore had a humanistic quality at its origin.
4. Jean Bodin and the authors who followed him conceived the sphere of the
relationships among commonwealths with the traditional conceptual means
of the justum bellum and of the fides, and this whole domain of legal and polit-
ical experience was set under the principle of faith and loyalty. This implied
that these relationships were ruled by a higher form of law, that is, by natural
law, to which all sovereigns must be subjected. In this sense, kings and aris-
tocratic or democratic councils did not recognize any superior instance when
they were in their own territory, but when they went outside their bounda-
ries and entered into an exchange with other commonwealths they had to
acknowledge that there was a law superior to them, which they had to obey.
This result in the exterior is not without consequences for the interior of a com-
monwealth, since we can apply the same observation to the relationships within the
commonwealth, and with this model or pattern we can ask whether a sovereign,
that is, a king or a council, is really superior to all institutions and laws in his coun-
try. In other words, we must ask whether the sovereign is really absolute in his or
her country. Looking at the interior situation, do all laws really depend on the will
of the sovereign, or is there any law that is independent and superior to the sover-
eign? If this is the case, then the sovereign must obey it and would not be absolute
in his power.
This is the case with the sovereignty of Jean Bodin because, as the famous eighth
chapter of the first book explains, there are some situations that limit the power of
a king. It is true that a king can freely decide on the laws in his country, and that he
is in this sense sovereign, but at the same time there are some limits (bornes) that he
cannot exceed. Firstly, he may not violate the commandments of natural law; sec-
ondly, he must respect the treaties he has entered into with other kings, since these
are regulated by the natural law that is valid on the outside; thirdly, he must remain
loyal to all constitutional contracts he has agreed upon with his subjects, because
both parties of such a compact are free and equal and the king, as long as he is not

36  Hugo Grotius, De iure belli ac pacis libri tres (1625), lib. I, cap. 1, par. 12: ‘The existence of
the Law of Nature is proved by two kinds of argument, a priori, and a posteriori, the former a more
abstruse, and the latter a more popular method of proof. We are said to reason a priori, when we show
the agreement or disagreement of any thing with a reasonable and social nature; but a posteriori,
when without absolute proof, but only upon probability, any thing is inferred to accord with the law
of nature, because it is received as such among all, or at least the more civilized nations. For a general
effect can only arise from a general cause. Now scarce any other cause can be assigned for so general an
opinion, but the common sense, as it is called, of mankind. There is a sentence of Hesiod that has been
much praised, that opinions which have prevailed amongst many nations, must have some foundation.
Heraclitus, establishing common reason as the best criterion of truth, says, those things are certain
which generally appear so. Among other authorities, we may quote Aristotle, who says it is a strong
proof in our favour, when all appear to agree with what we say, and Cicero maintains that the consent
of all nations in any case is to be admitted for the law of nature.’
 Jean Bodin 91

yet acknowledged as supreme magistrate, is not yet sovereign; fourthly, he cannot

infringe a treaty or a compact that he has agreed on with his subjects before he was
made king, because at that time he was not yet sovereign.37 We would be correct in
saying that a king is perfectly sovereign over positive law, which depends totally on
his will, but he is not sovereign over natural law and divine law, which are still valid
in his country and rule over some domains in the life of the subjects.
All these cases tell us that the sovereignty proposed by Jean Bodin is less absolute
than we would imagine at first sight. We have gone an indirect way because we
came to the interior of a commonwealth after observing its exterior; we came to
sovereignty after considering faith and natural law. But in so doing we can discover
through international law a side of public law that would otherwise remain hidden:
the fact that sovereignty cannot be so absolute.

Selected Bibliography
Baldini, Artemio Enzo (ed.), Jean Bodin: a 400 anni dalla morte. Bilancio storiografico e pros-
pettive di ricerca (Florence: Olschki, 1997).
Cardascia, Guillaume, ‘Machiavel et Jean Bodin’, Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance
3 (1943), 129–​67.
Goyard-​Fabre, Simone, Jean Bodin et le droit de la république (Paris: PUF, 1989).
Ilari, Virgilio, L’interpretazione storica del diritto di guerra romano fra tradizione romanistica e
giusnaturalismo (Milan: Giuffre, 1981).
Isnardi Parente, Margherita, ‘Introduzione’, in Margherita Isnardi Parente (ed.), Jean Bodin,
I sei libri dello stato: Volume primo (Turin: U.T.E.T., 1964).
Quaglioni, Diego, I limiti della sovranità. Il pensiero di Jean Bodin nella cultura politica e
giuridica dell’età moderna (Padova: Cedam, 1992).
Scattola, Merio, ‘Diritto medievale e scienza politica moderna nella dottrina della sovranità
di Jean Bodin’, Ius commune 26 (1999), 165–​209.

37  Merio Scattola, ‘Diritto medievale e scienza politica moderna nella dottrina della sovranità di
Jean Bodin’, Ius commune 26 (1999), 165–​209; Merio Scattola, ‘Ordine della giustizia e dottrina della
sovranità in Jean Bodin’, in Giuseppe Duso (ed.), Il potere: Per la storia della filosofia politica moderna
(1999), pp. 61–​75.
92

5
Alberico Gentili
Sovereignty, Natural Law, and the System
of Roman Civil Law

Andreas Wagner

I. Introduction

The theory of international law offered by Alberico Gentili (1552–​1608) is marked

by a delicate, if not confusing, combination of the two principles of equal and
unrestrained sovereignty of states, on the one hand, and of an international legal
integration grounded on natural law, on the other. He achieves this by separating
the presumed fact of universal natural and international legal obligation from the
authority to interpret and enforce it, of which there is no universal agent (in the
secular realm). Then, each sovereign (head of ) state is the supreme interpreter of
her own natural obligations. However, Gentili complements this principled argu-
ment with an emphasis on the historical convergence of many such interpretations,
which makes for a more integrated international order than one would expect. The
contingency of the factual convergence, both in terms of its substance and in terms
of eventual incoherencies and inconsistencies, is offset by the system of the Roman
jus civile that, according to Gentili, mirrors or incorporates the convergence and, at
the same time, possesses a rationality that has been established by a long tradition
of reflexive jurisprudence.
After a brief biographical sketch including an introduction to Gentili’s most
important texts on matters of international law (II), I will present his theory of
international order and how it is articulated as a system (III). Besides its merits,
I will also mention what I consider to be a major shortcoming of Gentili’s the-
ory, i.e. its deficit of effectively equal chances of participation in the interpretation
and development of international law. I will then consider the various phases of
the reception of Gentili’s theory and relate these to its distinctive traits and to the
agenda the respective recipients were pursuing (IV). The discussion of Gentili’s role
in the present debate will bring both the report on the reception and the chapter as
a whole to a conclusion, explaining how the reception relates to and seems to affirm
the criticism voiced in the systematic exposition (V).

Alberico Gentili: sovereignty, natural law and the system of Roman civil law. Andreas Wagner. © Andreas
Wagner, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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Alberico Gentili 93

II.  Biographical Sketch

The eldest of seven children, Alberico Gentili was born in the Italian town of San
Ginesio. He received a humanist education and, at the age of fifteen, was sent to the
famous university of Perugia to study Roman civil law. He obtained his doctorate in
1572 and started to work as a judge, and soon after as an advocate for his native city. In
1579, Alberico had to flee the Inquisition because of the family’s Protestant leanings,
together with his father, Matteo, and his youngest brother, Scipio. After a short period
of having moved from place to place, Scipio settled in Tübingen and later went to
Altdorf, while Alberico and (soon after) his father continued to England.1
Gentili was able to gain the protection of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester,
who at the time was also Chancellor of Oxford University. In 1581, the university
acknowledged Gentili’s doctoral degree, enabling him to teach Roman civil law.
Besides the special problem of the marginal relevance of Roman law in England at
the time, the main issue in discussions of Roman law was the dispute between the
traditional mos italicus and the recent, humanist mos gallicus: Inspired by renais-
sance philological discussions, legal scholars of the ‘modern’ or ‘French’ mode—​
such as François Hotman, Jacques Cujas, Hugues Doneau, and others—​would
criticize the historically distorted and misleading pictures of ancient Roman law
that traditional jurisprudence had established, using methods of textual criticism
and focusing on the original wording and meaning. By contrast, scholars of the
‘Italian’ mode emphasized the gain in flexibility, in applicability to current prob-
lems as well as in consistency and coherence that the later (non-​ancient) interpret-
ers such as Baldus, Bartolus, or Accursius had brought to the law, perhaps to the
negligible detriment of historical accuracy. From his early days at the Bartolist uni-
versity of Perugia, Gentili was approaching matters according to the mos italicus.2
However, the dispute is quite complex and especially in Gentili’s case, the reception
of the mos gallicus writings and ideas was much more sustained than a mere rebuke
would have been.3 In any case, it was important to Gentili to read Roman law texts

1  For a more complete biographical account, Gesina van der Molen’s, Alberico Gentili and the
Development of International Law: His Life Work and Times (1937) (2nd rev edn, 1968) is still the
most comprehensive work available in English. See also Angela de Benedictis, ‘Gentili, Alberico’, in
Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, vol. 53 (1999), pp. 245–​51; and Pepe Ragoni (ed.), Alberico Gentili
vita e opere (2000).
2  Among Gentili’s earlier works unrelated to international law, De Juris Interpretibus Dialogi Sex
(1582) should be mentioned. In this and other commentaries on Roman law, Gentili was defending
Bartolus, Accursius, and others against both early and later writers of the mos gallicus: Budé, Alciati,
Zasius, Cujas, and also, to an extent, against Hugues Doneau and François Hotman. Doneau was also
one of Scipio Gentili’s teachers during the latter’s stay in Leiden; moreover, he helped him get estab-
lished in Altdorf. Scipio also finished the edition of Doneau’s Commentarii de Iure Civili (1604) after
the author had died in 1591. François Hotman was the father of Jean Hotman, who was slightly less
famous than his father; the son was a colleague of Gentili in Oxford, with whom the latter agreed on
many points.
3  Cf. Giovanni Minucci, ‘Per una rilettura del metodo gentiliano’, in Ferdinando Treggiari (ed.),
Alberico Gentili: La tradizione giuridica perugiana e la fondazione del diritto internazionale (2010), pp.
29–​56; G. Minucci, Alberico Gentili tra mos italicus e mos gallicus: L’inedito commentario Ad legem
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94 Andreas Wagner

from the perspective of current problems and, with this motivation, to study how
they had come to be interpreted and applied to analogous problems over the course
of time by jurisprudential discourse. The systematic rationality that the scholarly
discourse and reception of Roman law had established was to become very impor-
tant for Gentili, as we will see below.
In 1584, Gentili was asked by the court for his opinion regarding the appropriate
verdict for Bernardino de Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador to England, who had
been found involved in a conspiracy to kill Queen Elizabeth I. Gentili argued that
he should be expelled rather than executed, and this was also the solution finally
adopted by the court.4 The following year, Gentili had further developed his theory
of diplomatic immunity and published his first major work on subjects of inter-
national law: De legationibus libri tres.5 While referring directly to Mendoza’s case,
it had obvious implications for the ongoing trial against Mary Stuart as well. At
the age of thirty five, Gentili was named Regius Professor of Roman Law in 1587,
and in 1588/​89 he delivered three lectures on the law of war, initially published as
De iure belli commentationes tres and nine years later, in a considerably expanded
form, as De iure belli libri tres (1598).6 While Gentili was consistently critical of
the Humanists’ tendencies to replace questions of law and justice with philological
ones, he showed considerable humanist erudition and versatile rhetorical capabili-
ties, e.g. in a work On the Wars of the Romans, which he published one year later.7
Gentili had more or less close friendships with Giordano Bruno, with his fellow
Oxonian Jean Hotman, and with his mentors and literary patrons Robert Dudley,
Earl of Leicester, and the latter’s nephew, the poet Philip Sidney. Among the more
recent theological and juridical authors Gentili cited, there were members of the
Iberian scholastics, like Vitoria, Soto, and Covarrubias as well as the Protestants
Melanchton, Beza, Andreae, and others; however, there are also Italian and English
authors, such as Nicolò de’ Tudeschi (Panormitanus) and Thomas More. Among
Humanist authors, Gentili mentions, among others, Erasmus, George Buchanan,
Paulus Manutius, and Julius Caesar Scaliger.
In 1600, Gentili was admitted to the bar, joined the company of advocates at
Gray’s Inn and started working as advocate and legal counsellor in London. Near
the end of his career, he was practising more than he was teaching: he spent most of
his time at the Admiralty Court, where ‘international’ cases were adjudicated and
where he, despite having been very critical of Spain and the Spanish foreign policy
in earlier publications, had been appointed as an advocate for Spain. (Although

Julian de adulteriis (2002); Italo Birocchi, ‘Il De iure belli e ‘l’invenzione’ del diritto internazionale’,
in Luigi Lacchè (ed.), ‘Ius gentium ius communicationis ius belli’ Alberico Gentili e gli orizzonti della
modernità (2009), pp. 101–​38; and Guido Astuti, Mos italicus e Mos gallicus nei Dialoghi ‘De iuris
interpretibus’ di Alberico Gentili (1937).
4  As a second opinion, Gentili’s fellow Oxonian Jean Hotman was approached as well, and he came
to the same result.
5  Cf. Alberico Gentili, De Legationibus Libri Tres (1924).
6  Cf. Alberico Gentili, De Iure Belli Commentationes Tres (1589) and A. Gentili, De Iure Belli Libri
Tres (1933).
7  Cf. Alberico Gentili, The Wars of the Romans (2010).
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Alberico Gentili 95
Spain and England had reached peace in 1604,8 the war between Spain and the
United Provinces continued, and the court often heard cases of maritime law deal-
ing with controversies that arose in England or in English waters between Spaniards
and Dutch privateers.) While absent from teaching, Gentili’s writing activities con-
tinued. For example, in 1605, he published his Regales Disputationes Tres, wherein
he defined the rights of the king and rejected the right of the subjects to rebellion.9
Finally, Gentili’s last work, his Hispanicae advocationis libri duo, must be men-
tioned, in which he provided a summary of this practical work, mostly a collection
of cases he had been involved in and of the arguments presented therein. It was left
unpublished when Alberico Gentili died in London in 1608, but his brother Scipio
published it posthumously in 1613.10
In the next part, I will present Gentili’s general methodology and the main traits
of his interpretation of international law. First, I will discuss in some detail his the-
ory of sovereignty. This establishes the nature of the agents and the chief problem
of international law, since it implies the impossibility of executive or interpretative
institutions above the competing states. Second, I will turn to how Gentili’s uptake
of Stoic cosmopolitan morality establishes a natural law applicable to all states and
constituting a universal legal order. Third, I  will describe how Roman civil law
establishes the rationality, i.e. the knowability, coherence, and consistency of that
order, and also for its necessary flexibility, that is to say, how Roman law constitutes
the international legal order as a system of law. Finally, the quasi-​private law char-
acter of Gentili’s Roman law (which allows it to cater for the principles of equal
sovereignty of all states) leads me to critically discuss the lack of equal access of all
affected parties to the processes of legal reasoning.

III.  System and Order: Gentili’s Synthesis of Sovereignty

and Legal Integration

It is quite clear that Gentili was most interested in laws or rules regulating the rela-
tions between sovereign states. Bodin’s theory of sovereignty had been around for a
while already, and it proved to be immensely influential for Gentili. It meant that
international law could only be based on either the actual consent of the parties or
on natural law. It also meant that natural law could not be armed with authorita-
tive institutions and coercive force above the level of the sovereign state. On the
one hand, Gentili developed an approach to international relations that respected
and even emphasized the sovereign equality of states, and, at the same time, held
peace to be in fact attainable through the voluntary adoption of legal procedures
such as arbitration and the regulations of what would today be called humanitarian

8  According to van der Molen (n. 1), p. 58, Gentili was probably even involved in the drafting of
the peace treaty.
9  Cf. Alberico Gentili, Regales Disputationes Tres (1605). On the notion of sovereignty and espe-
cially on its implications for international law, see below, Section III.1.
10  Cf. Alberico Gentili, Hispanicae Advocationis Libri Duo (1921).
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96 Andreas Wagner

law, i.e. the law of war.11 On the other hand, treaties, arbitration, and explicitly
consented agreements clearly represented only a very limited part of international
law, so Gentili had to find a conceptual place for, and some substantial content
of, natural law. And while this might be more obvious in questions concerning
voluntary law, Gentili insisted that questions involving natural law should also be
dealt with by legal scholars. One of the most famous aspects of his approach was his
opposition to theologians. In fact, Gentili’s famous exhortation for the theologians
to remain silent in the domain of other disciplines12 points to methodological as
well as political issues of the time: With it, Gentili did not refer so much to earlier
theologians who had dealt with international law. Rather, he referred to the Puritan
faction that had, at the time, become very influential in the University of Oxford
and among the advisors to the Crown, and whose aim was to morally purify the
legal and political order by relying on and proceeding from the Holy Scriptures.13
Against this, Gentili insisted that there had to be juridical sources and juridical
reasoning constituting international legal rules and institutions.14 The Roman civil
law that Gentili was teaching comprised a corpus of norms and abstract princi-
ples, and of principles for their interpretation, which constituted a coherent and
consistent system of a distinctly legal character.15 But prima facie, it was also clear
that it was a municipal law, linked to a very different context and to a very specific
culture of reception and interpretation—​according to both the mos italicus and the
mos gallicus approaches—​and was neither meant to, nor even could, provide the
needed international laws or rules.16 So Gentili first had to establish a new juridi-
cal argument about the possible sources of such rules, in terms of the grounds of
their validity, but also in the more technical sense of where to look in order to dis-
cover those rules. His approach implied the use of ample examples of both ancient
and contemporary history. Here Gentili’s humanist education and erudition shines
through; he used even more examples from historiographic or even literary sources
than from legal texts in a narrow sense.17 Using arguments such as overlapping

11  One should, however, not miss the fact that the third book of Gentili’s De iure belli libri tres is
concerned with the jus post bellum, i.e. with the principles and rules that must be followed in order for
a post-​victory peace to be a lasting one.
12  ‘Silete theologi in munere alieno’ (De iure belli, lib. I, ch. 12, ed. James Brown Scott (1933), vol.
2, p. 57.
13  Cf. G. van der Molen (n. 1), pp. 210–​19 and 245–​68. Cf. also Christopher N. Warren, Literature
and the Law of Nations, 1580-​1680 (2015), p. 231.
14  This could be the reason why throughout his entire career Gentili has no problems quoting
authors of the Spanish Scholastics like Francisco de Vitoria and Domingo de Soto affirmingly, who
seem to agree with him on that point to a considerable extent. Besides theological authorities in the
narrow sense, these authors included the legal tradition among their preferred authorities and they
pushed a good part of moral theological discourse into the direction of a somewhat juridical reason-
ing, focused on considerations of rights and legitimacy. Cf. Andreas Wagner, ‘Francisco de Vitoria’, in
Rafael Domingo and Javier Martínez-Torrón (eds.), Great Christian Jurists in Spanish History (forth-
coming 2017); Andreas Wagner and Anselm Spindler, ‘The School of Salamanca’, in Marco Sgarbi
(ed.), Encyclopedia of Renaissance Philosophy (forthcoming 2017); and the various essays in Kirstin
Bunge et al. (eds.), Kontroversen um das Recht. Contending for Law (2013).
15  For more on the conception of a system and its applicability to Roman law, see below, Section III.3.
16  And neither could the English common law, nor canon law, of course.
17  On the relation between literature and early modern international law cf. Warren (n. 13), on
Gentili see esp. ch. 2 and Christopher N. Warren, ‘Gentili, the Poets, and the Laws of War’, in Benedict
 97

Alberico Gentili 97
customs, the test of time, and an analogy between sovereigns and private citizens,
he finally identified Roman civil law to be as good an expression of natural law as
one can hope to find, and he set out to explain and adapt its rules and concepts for
the cases and issues he was interested in:
Moreover, the law which is written in those books of Justinian is not merely that of the
state, but also that of the nations and of nature; and with this last it is all so in accord, that
if the empire were destroyed, the law itself, although long buried, would yet rise again and
diffuse itself among all the nations of mankind. This law therefore holds for sovereigns also,
although it was established by Justinian for private individuals.18

1. Doctrine of sovereignty
Gentili’s theory of war very clearly shows how much he subscribed to a Bodinian
notion of sovereignty as the supreme, indivisible, and absolute power of the ruler
over the citizens. For him, this fundamental concept also implies the impossibility
of any exterior legal authority superior to the sovereign—​except, of course, for God
and natural law.19

Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law of Nations: Alberico
Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010), pp. 146–​62; Merio Scattola, Krieg des Wissens, Wissen des
Krieges: Konflikt, Erfahrung und System der literarischen Gattungen am Beginn der Frühen Neuzeit (2006).
18 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. III, ed. Brown Scott (n. 3), p. 17. Also note how
Justinian and the Corpus juris keep reappearing throughout Gentili’s presentation of the sources
of his arguments in De iure belli, ibid., pp. 8–​11: In a first approach based on custom, Gentili
explains how, through the vast reach of the Roman Empire and through its even more extensive
commerce, ‘knowledge could be gained of all peoples, thus the law of nations could be defined’
and ‘our jurists then have been able to compile this law from absolutely all nations’ (p. 9). In a
second approach based on natural reason, Gentili mentions intuitive self-​evidence, supported by
examples, the examples and utterances of great authorities, arguments and reasoning, the Holy
Scripture and ‘not a few things from the civil law of Justinian which it will be possible to adapt to
our uses [and that most properly so, for] the laws which were laid down by the philosophers and
approved by the judgement of every age undoubtedly possess natural reason’ (p. 11). Cf. Benjamin
Straumann /​Benedict Kingsbury, ‘Introduction’, in Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann
(eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law of Nations: Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010),
pp. xviii–​xxii; Benjamin Straumann, ‘The Corpus iuris as a Source of Law Between Sovereigns in
Alberico Gentili’s Thought’, in Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), The Roman
Foundations of the Law of Nations: Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010), pp. 101–​23; or
Jeremy Waldron, ‘Ius gentium. A Defence of Gentili’s Equation of the Law of Nations and the Law
of Nature’, ibid., pp. 283–​96. According to van der Molen (n. 1), Gentili assumed rather a clear
separation of international and Roman civil law, but the analytic and formal separation of the two
systems of law does not negate their analogy, on the basis of which it is possible to infer rules and
principles of international law.
19  Cf. Peter Schröder, ‘Vitoria, Gentili, Bodin: Sovereignty and the Law of Nations’, in Benedict
Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law of Nations (2010), pp.
163–​86; Christian Zendri, ‘Alberico Gentili e il De iure belli. Metodo e fonti’, Laboratoire italien 10
(2010), pp. 45–​63; Diego Quaglioni, ‘The Italian “Readers” out of Italy -​Alberico Gentili (1552-​
1608)’, in Howell A. Lloyd (ed.), The Reception of Bodin (2013), pp. 371–​86. See also the contribution
of Merio Scattola to the present volume. For the roots of the discourse on sovereignty in Roman legal
discourse, see Kenneth Pennington, The Prince and the Law, 1200-​1600: Sovereignty and Rights in the
Western Legal Tradition (1993).
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98 Andreas Wagner

In contrast to Gentili’s elaborate discussions of natural law,20 the concept of

sovereignty is more of a basic axiom of his theory of international law: it is not
so much justified in a meta-​juridical explanation, but rather presupposed by his
legal arguments. It is only in a late text, Regales Disputationes Tres (1605), that
he explicitly and extensively addresses the internal constitution of sovereign rule,
its limits, and the rights of the subjects. And while one can find in De iure belli
dispersed arguments to the effect that ruler and subjects are mutually bound by a
social compact, and that the subjects—​when they manage to find a legitimate rep-
resentation in some noblemen—​have a certain right of deposing a tyrannical ruler,
in this later text, Gentili leans quite unequivocally to an absolutist conception of
sovereign rule. He starts the first of these disputations, quite fittingly entitled De
potestate Regis absoluta, with the Ulpianian ‘What pleases the prince has the force
of law, for by a regal law the people has transferred to him and conferred upon
him all its power and authority’.21 And going through classical authors, civil law,
Aristotle, and Bodin, he identifies the English Royal Prerogative Powers with a
‘potestas extraordinaria, legibus absoluta’.22
On the one hand, this conception of sovereignty allows for a ruler to be an agent
in legal relations and interactions; she is not only representing her commonwealth,
but is related to it and to all her subjects in a way that explicitly provides her with
the competences to commit the whole of it and all of them to legal obligations, to
claim and to possess titles in the name of all of it and all of them.23 On the other
hand, and at the same time, this also puts limits on international law: with the
strong concept of sovereignty comes the impossibility of any human institution
that would be superior to the sovereign. There cannot be any (human) legislator
above the sovereign, no legal proceedings to which she would be obliged to submit
and no interpreter of the sovereign’s obligations, duties and entitlements other than
the sovereign herself. Thus, in the end, the term ‘legal obligation’ might boil down
to the principle of sovereign equality.24

20  On the often rather metaphorical nature of his arguments, and on the moral character of inter-
national legal obligation according to Gentili, cf. Andreas Wagner, ‘Francisco de Vitoria and Alberico
Gentili on the Legal Character of the Global Commonwealth’, Oxford Journal of Legal Studies 31(3)
(2011), 565–​82.
21  ‘Quod principi placuit, legis habet vigorem: utpote cum lege regia, quae de eius imperio lata est,
populus ei et in eum omne suum imperium et potestatem conferat.’ (D. 1.4.1 pr., quoted in Regales
Disputationes Tres [n. 9], p. 5).
22  Regales Disputationes Tres (n. 9), p. 10. This doctrine is an expression of the general legitimatory
outlook that leads Diego Panizza to describe Gentili as giurista ideologo, cf. Diego Panizza, Alberico
Gentili, giurista ideologo nell’Inghilterra Elisabettiana (1981). On Gentili’s doctrine of sovereignty cf.
also van der Molen (n. 1), pp. 219–​40, who writes ‘just as Bodin in France, he was the theoretical
founder of absolutism in England’ (p. 239). Cf. also Alain Wijffels, ‘Assolutismo politico e diritto di
resistenza: la disputatio gentiliana “De vi civium in Regem semper iniusta” ’, in Alberico Gentili: l’uso
della forza nel diritto internazionale (2006), pp. 433–​57; and Diego Quaglioni (n. 19).
23  Relating this to literary taxonomies, Warren associates this with the trope of epic distance, imply-
ing both distance and detachment, on the one hand, and representation, on the other. Cf. Warren
(n. 13).
24  With regard to Gentili’s conception of war, Diego Panizza makes this very point in ‘Political
Theory and Jurisprudence in Gentili’s De iure belli. The Great Debate Between ‘theological’ and
‘humanist’ perspectives from Vitoria to Grotius’, IILJ Working Paper 15 (2005), 53.
 9

Alberico Gentili 99
As an aside, it also means that only sovereigns, or those who can legitimately
claim some form of authorization or sponsorship from a sovereign, are agents in
international legal relations and interactions. This sponsorship is unspectacular
insofar as it is a default assumption. Nevertheless, it is explicitly denied to rebels,
pirates, brigands, and runaway slaves who have disrupted precisely the ties to their
sovereign. They have ‘withdrawn from the agreement and broken the treaty of the
human race’, thereby making them ‘common enemies of all mankind’ to which
international law (and the law of war, in particular) no longer applies.25
Hence, war, for example, cannot be defined as the enforcement of law on a per-
petrator, since the latter has just as much authority to define the rights and obliga-
tions in play, the compliances and infringements as anyone else. War is a legally
regulated mechanism necessary to produce a decision in cases of conflict where legal
judgment cannot be rendered:
[T]‌here cannot be judicial processes between supreme sovereigns (summos Principes) or free
peoples unless they themselves consent, since they acknowledge no judge or superior. …
Therefore it was inevitable that the decision between sovereigns should be made by arms.
‘War’, says Demosthenes, ‘is made against those who cannot be controlled by the laws, but
judicial decisions are rendered in the case of private citizens.’26
However, at this very point, having just articulated the definition of sovereignty and
the inevitability of war, Gentili continues to point out that he is ‘speaking here only
of a real and actual necessity’,27 and not merely a theoretical one: the Roman insti-
tution of appeal, and its international counterpart, the institution of arbitration,
provide mechanisms that quite often enabled the settlement of conflicts without
either defining the parties as subjects to a superior authority or resorting to the
violence of war. Again, multiple historical examples allow him to argue:
that those who avoid this kind of contest by arbitration and resort at once to the other, that
is, to force, may understand that they are setting their faces against justice, humanity, and
good precedent, and that they are rushing to arms of their own free will, because they are
unwilling to submit to any one’s verdict.28
Hence the inference from the unavailability of a superior authority to the legiti-
macy of war is not cogent, and it is a duty of morality and of natural law to seek
compromise and arbitration. War is a last resort—​the justice of which depends on
it being in fact necessary. And the uncertain expectations of compliance to inter-
national commitments are not sufficient to create such factual necessity, for if the

25  With these concepts of unjust enemy and hostis humani generis, Gentili places certain individu-
als and communities outside of the legal realm altogether. Commentators have pointed out that this
plays a role in colonial policies no less than in dealing with pirates and brigands in the strict sense. Cf.
the contributions of Noel Malcolm, Alexis Blane/​Benedict Kingsbury, Anthony Pagden, and Randall
Lesaffer to Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law of
Nations: Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010).
26 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. III (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], p. 16). See also ch. XIV
(pp. 61–​3).
27 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. III (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], p. 16).
28 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. III (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], p. 16).
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100 Andreas Wagner

norms and agreements are fair, i.e. if they truly provide for the common advantage
based on equal respect for all parties, they result in compliance and a secure and
lasting peace.29
A couple of consequences can be extrapolated to follow from this set-​up: the legal
character of the international order and of international law is neither constituted
by, nor even necessarily related to, their reliable enforcement. On the one hand,
there are reasons and historical precedent for trusting an international order based
on fair agreements and equal respect to establish a secure and lasting peace and pro-
mote the advantages of each individual state—​even when the rights and obligations
of each state in principle are up for more or less unrestricted interpretation of that
state. On the other hand, there is a law prescribing the compliant behaviour of the
individual sovereigns and which lies outside of their discretion, even though it is
not enforced. The whole constellation of equally sovereign states deliberately com-
ing to fair agreements and submitting to arbitration procedures is framed by the
order of international law. The obligatory character of this order is then explained
in terms of natural law, and there is a certain propensity of Gentili to use moral
terms and metaphors. For Gentili, putting the norms of the international order
beyond the scope of subjective reasoning means assuming that it has been generated
and legitimized outside of, independently of, and prior to any political association
and deliberation. Second, it explains the private character of the subjects of such
law and of their resolutions. And third, it suggests that in the search for effective and
substantial norms, history and historical systems of norms seem to respond better
to the private authority of those subjects than philosophical constructions of their
presumed resolutions.

2. Stoic morality
Gentili is deeply influenced by Stoic moral philosophy, which makes for a second
characteristic trait of his theory:  the values of peace, liberty, unity, civility, and
humanity are central to Gentili’s outlook. Translated to the legal realm, they are
concentrated in the different aspects of the guiding principle of justice and consti-
tute a normative framework of natural law. The Stoic roots of Gentili’s principle of
justice are above all apparent in its universalist dimension: for Gentili, justice can
only be rightly understood against the horizon of a universal community, a respub-
lica magna, which connects all mankind and which abstracts from social, cultural,
and even religious particularities.30 However, this conception is also Stoic insofar as

29  In this passage (at p. 15), Gentili explicitly discusses the problem of the uncertain compliance
of parties to treaties and refers the reader to the third book of his treatise, where he discusses meas-
ures that parties should take to ensure lasting peace. The most important common denominator is
justice and equal respect: cf. Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. III, ch. XIII (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6]),
pp. 353–​5.
30  This relationship of justice to a form of community is similar in Machiavelli’s oeuvre. Machiavelli,
however, understands this only with respect to a particular community while Gentili refers to the uni-
versal frame. See the contribution by Roth-​Isigkeit in this volume.
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Alberico Gentili 101

it abstracts even from political institutions—​it is not the law of any political com-
munity or of concrete institutions that would legislate or enforce it.
On the one hand, then, the orientation of natural law towards justice and the
orientation of international relations towards those values are often spelled out in
moral terms and in appeals to moral values (such as amor, benevolentia, caritas);31 in
this sense, the universal principle of justice constitutes moral rights for, and places
moral obligations on, the sovereigns in their relation to one another. On the other
hand, the universal community and its normative order conceives and addresses its
subjects directly, in their humanity, without the mediation of common institutions,
which makes it akin to a private law order. In this sense, sovereigns stand in relation
to each other just as private citizens stand in relation to each other within the state.
Moreover, both the abstract notion of transcultural humanity as an order and the
origin of that order in plain human nature itself make the recognition and formu-
lation of substantial norms implementing those universal principles a particularly
difficult epistemological problem. For Gentili, these norms are not easily available
to the sober reasoning of individuals:
Such laws are not written, but inborn; we have not learned, received, and read them, but
we have wrested, drawn, and forced them out of nature herself. We have not received them
through instruction, but have acquired them at birth; we have gained them, not by training,
but by instinct.32
Thus, in spite of occasional recourses to ‘philosophers and other wise men’ whose
habit it is ‘to speak according to the promptings of nature’,33 in the end Gentili
opts to look for such norms in processes and insights that transcend individual
reasoning—​it is the examples, historical precedent as well as historically tested and
proven norms that offer an articulation of natural law.
In the end, Gentili identifies this natural law with international law: he heaps
up examples of ‘international’ issues, of state conduct towards other states, as they
have been reported in ancient literature and notable from contemporary history;
and connecting these issues with their appraisal by historians and legal scholars
with their public evaluation and their historical reception, he shows how they tran-
scend particular polities and conjunctures and how they exhibit universal rules.
Vice versa, if it is by historical examples of customs and treaties that one identifies
natural law, one can immediately recognize its international dimension. In effect,
the beginning of the passage just quoted above indicates that the ‘inborn laws’ that
have been ‘forced out of nature herself ’ are precisely international law: ‘But there is
another more elegant definition of the law of nations … that there are everywhere
certain unwritten laws, not enacted by men … but given to them by God’.34

31  See also the contribution by Schaffner in this volume.

32 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. I (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], p. 10).
33 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. I (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], p. 11).
34 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. I (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], p. 9f ). For Gentili’s identifica-
tion of natural and international law, cf. e.g. Waldron (n. 18).
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102 Andreas Wagner

3. Roman civil law as substance and as system

In this approach of seeking historical norms of ‘international’ practice and of its
critical reception by historical and contemporary authors, Gentili finds Roman
law to be the prime example of such law: It had been designed to be applicable
throughout the Roman empire and hence is suitable to a diverse set of social con-
texts. (Gentili points out that the laws that the Roman jurists have established have
been found in commercial, diplomatic, and belligerent interaction with ‘absolutely
all nations’ known at the time.35) Also with respect to the temporal dimension,
the sheer duration of its operative validity, i.e. being in effect, means that it has
been tested and historically proven to provide a mechanism for social integration
effective in the most diverse circumstances. And while it provides very concrete
norms, which lend themselves to easy application to factual situations, it has been
proven flexible enough to be adjusted to new requirements. All of this signifies a
certain emancipation of Roman law from its genesis in the legislative will of con-
crete human beings and substantiates its articulation to human nature’s universal
normative reason. Thus, Gentili writes:
[T]‌hat which has successively seemed acceptable to all men should be regarded as represent-
ing the intention and purpose of the entire world (totius orbis decretum fuisse existimetur).36
Moreover, to a large extent, the Roman law of the Corpus juris civilis is a private
law, regulating the relations and interactions between free and equal citizens. Its
republican heritage guarantees the fundamental respect for—​in fact it implies the
utmost relevance of—​the equal liberty of its subjects. Thus, the legal subjects and
acts that it regulates are highly analogous to the context of international relations,
and Roman law is perfectly suitable to conceptualize the status and interactions
between sovereigns.37 In this perspective, and in terms of both its structure and its
substance, Roman law is quasi identical to natural law and, therefore, identical to
international law.
Thus, Gentili’s ‘natural-​historical’ approach allows him to reconstruct many sub-
stantial norms of the international order through an investigation of Roman law.
But it does not solve the task of establishing a system of international law: while
history may expose some rules, it does not, in and of itself, render them as a coher-
ent and comprehensive set of rules, the relations between which follow rational
rules themselves. In logic and philosophy of science, a formal system consists of a
language (alphabet, words, and grammar), basic axioms and rules of inference.38
It is remarkable that the Roman law of Gentili’s time—​with its definitions of cat-
egories (e.g. in Gaius’s Institutions, I, 8-​12), its norms (e.g. on usucaption Inst II,
42–​44) as well as its principles of argumentation and interpretation (e.g. in Digest

35 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. III (ed. Brown Scott [n. 3], p. 9).
36 Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. I (ed. Brown Scott [n. 3], p. 8).
37  Cf. Straumann (n. 18).
38  Cf. e.g. Haskell B. Curry, Outlines of a Formalist Philosophy of Mathematics (1951), chapter IV.
For an application of a related, albeit more differentiated, concept of ‘system’ to the history of ideas,
cf. Scattola (n. 17).
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Alberico Gentili 103

D. 50.17)—​corresponded, to an extent, to such a system. In fact, in some respects
it represented an even more ‘rational’ type of system, where glossators and post-​
glossators had invested great effort to establish that the whole system was consistent
(non-​contradictory) and complete (i.e. that all the problems and solutions one may
encounter are susceptible to be expressed and treated in the system).
However, there is a tension between a narrowly logical constructivist perspective
and Gentili’s historicist approach. Our assessment in terms of systematic construc-
tion is then not meant to suggest that Gentili sought to derive or develop a com-
prehensive system of natural law in a logical or ‘geometrical’ fashion from a few
axioms or a single grounding principle. Such an approach would in effect seem even
contrary to his insistence on historical reason and on empirically founded knowl-
edge. Also, his texts are concerned with special areas of international law, such as the
law of war or of diplomatic immunities, rather than with constructing a complete
account of international law and its analytical structure. Thus, some basic princi-
ples, concepts, and ambitions of the construction and partitioning of the ancient
‘system’—​like Gaius’s orderly treatment of persons, things, and actions,39—​do not
feature in analogous ways in Gentili’s arguments. And yet, in terms of legal prac-
tice, it would without doubt be immensely advantageous if the rules of interna-
tional law, which could be found by historical investigation and by interpretation
of historical phenomena, were exhaustive –​–​and if they would not, at some point,
turn out to be contradictory. It is in this sense that the second decisive trait of the
Roman legal tradition, its systematic character, weighs in. It is precisely the Bartolist
tradition of post-​glossators and commentators, so dear to Gentili, who have sought
to harmonize the different sets of norms in the Corpus juris civilis, to elaborate its
systematic rationality and to articulate it with other contemporary sources of law in
order to re-​establish it as a living, flexible and applicable law.40
In terms of this volume, the international order then is the set of legal subjects—​
sovereign heads of states—​the relations of whom are governed by a historically
grown complex of rules. The substance of these rules is defined topically, but two
forceful formal principles can be discerned: sovereign equality and cosmopolitan
morality. The topical and historical character of that order makes a systematic
knowledge of it impossible, at least insofar as that would mean a priori knowledge
in the form of sentences that would be methodologically deduced from simple
fundamental principles. On the other hand, in spite of its topical character, it is
possible to reasonably acknowledge the coherence and consistency of this order,
since it corresponds to a corpus of normative knowledge the rationality of which
has been long discussed and historically tested: Roman law is a systematization of
the international order in the slightly different sense of a transparent and reliable
cognitive representation of it.

39 Cf. Institutions I, 3.
40  Cf. Jan Schröder, Recht als Wissenschaft. Geschichte der juristischen Methodenlehre in der Neuzeit
(1500-​1933) (2nd edn, 2012), pp. 25–​96; Alain Wijffels, ‘Early-​Modern Scholarship on International
Law’, in Alexander Orakhelashvili (ed.), Research Handbook on the Theory and History of International
Law (2011), pp. 23–​60.
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104 Andreas Wagner

Roman law carefully balances respect for sovereign autonomy and cosmopolitan
morality, and Gentili invests considerable effort to demonstrate how it is expedi-
ent for, and malleable by, sovereign commonwealths, and how, at the same time, it
puts a moral force in effect. In and of itself, it is not applicable to the relations and
processes between sovereign rulers; however, taken as an articulation of natural law,
it makes for a law to which even sovereign rulers are subject. And it brings along its
self-​knowledge, its flexible structure and its respect for the ultimate relevance of the
individual person. In other words, international law is operating analogous to pri-
vate law, yet without overarching legislative or executive authority, thereby allowing
extensive freedom to its subjects: the sovereigns.41

4. A brief critical comment

On the one hand, Gentili clearly puts great emphasis on the fact that natural law
and international law bind sovereign rulers, and that it can hence coordinate their
relations towards an ideal of peace and justice. On the other hand, the sweeping
role of sovereignty, the private law character of international law leaves considerable
discretion to the sovereigns in interpreting their respective claims and obligations.
Finally, the close relationship between Roman law and a particular tradition of
interpretation and scholarship together make for a tendency of reification of natural
law. Its universalism and dynamic character are conceptualized only ex post, not
as characteristics of its procedures that could find an analogous expression in cur-
rent institutions and diplomatic practices open to all concerned agents as well. As
Gentili’s own text, De armis Romanis, shows, the factual asymmetries of power and
the injustices resulting from them, are not easily made a subject of legal discussions
if every sovereign is free to move in her own interpretative universe, and especially
so if history has worked towards a quasi-​monopoly of legal interpretation coincid-
ing with the wielders of international power.42
Structurally, what Gentili’s private/​international/​natural law paradigm may be
missing most urgently is a forum to prevent the law from only ever working to the
benefit of the powerful, a forum for all parties concerned to participate in effectively
on equal standing, and to agree on common interpretations of the law and its pur-
poses, and hence also on common interests and values.
In the final section, I will turn to various phases of the reception of Gentili’s
theory of international law and not only explain how different stakes and interests
could be articulated to shifts in emphasis, but also what one can discern as recurring
traits of the various references to Gentili. This will take me to the final, conclusive

41  Cf. Waldron (n.18).

42  On the fact that identifying a particular domain of scholarly authority, of professional exper-
tise with and for an otherwise purportedly universal normative system, in turn, implies asymmetrical
relations of power, cf. Anthony Pagden, ‘Gentili, Vitoria, and the Fabrication of a “Natural Law of
Nations” ’, in Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law
of Nations: Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010), pp. 340–​61.
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Alberico Gentili 105

section where, in a more tentative appraisal, current debates will be linked to the
historical reception as well as to the previously mentioned point of criticism.

IV. Reception

1. (Near) contemporaries
While Gentili may have been involved in disputes with Puritan scholars in Oxford,
the more prominent contemporary authors of a Catholic theory of international
law hardly took notice of him. The theologian Suárez does not cite him in his De
legibus, which appeared shortly after De iure belli, and the Spanish jurist Juan de
Solórzano Pereira cites Gentili only once in his compendium of the law concerning
colonial policy (though he cites the brother, Scipio, twice on marriage law).
In the domain of international law, more specifically, and outside of Ibero-​
Scholastic discourse, however, the reception is clearly visible. In particular,
Grotius’ De Jure Belli ac Pacis contains a dozen references to Gentili’s De Jure Belli,
De Legationibus, and the Hispanica Advocatio; Grotius acknowledges his debt to
Gentili in the Prolegomena to this work, even though, at the same time, he sharply
criticizes the topical approach described above (§ 38).43 But also later authors of
the Anglo-​Dutch debates, such as John Selden, Richard Zouche, Samuel Rachel,
and Cornelis van Bijnkershoek, referred to Gentili as one of several important
authors, for example, in the debate on the freedom of the seas, concerning diplo-
matic immunities and, of course, in arguments about the law of war. In subsequent
discussions, and in a variety of fields, Gentili is regularly quoted, although he does
not appear to occupy a particularly prominent role.44

2. International arbitration (late nineteenth century)

As Martti Koskenniemi has argued,45 in the 1870s there had been a decisive devel-
opment in international law: at the time, a group of lawyers established the domain
of modern international law as a special field of law and jurisprudence, and it fought
to establish a liberal international law as a compulsory framework for international
politics. One key moment in this period was the establishment of international
arbitration as a means of conflict resolution before recourse to war and military

43  Cf. early studies such as Carl von Kaltenborn, Die Vorläufer des Hugo Grotius auf dem Gebiete des
ius naturae et gentium (1847), but above all the thorough and balanced study by Peter Haggenmacher,
‘Grotius and Gentili:  A  Reassessment of Thomas E.  Holland’s Inaugural Lecture’, in Hedley Bull,
Benedict Kingsbury, and Adam Roberts (eds.), Hugo Grotius and International Relations (1992), pp.
133–​76. Haggenmacher also reports on a couple of letters Grotius wrote confirming Gentili’s influ-
ence as well.
44  He is mentioned, in some cases frequently, in works of Samuel Pufendorf, Johann Gottlieb
Heineccius, Adam Friedrich Glafey, Christian Thomasius, and others.
45  Cf. Martti Koskenniemi, The Gentle Civilizer of Nations: The Rise and Fall of International Law
1870-​1960 (2002).
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106 Andreas Wagner

measures could be taken. The success of early arbitration procedures led to ambi-
tious projects of codification and ratification of international law in treaties such as
the first Geneva Convention in 1864, or the Hague Convention in 1899.
In this struggle by peace societies and liberal international lawyers to estab-
lish arbitration and large treaties, Gentili was seen to have played an exceptional
role in the genesis of international law: his theory provided the adequate meas-
ure between sovereignty and international legal coordination. Consequently, the
identity of natural and international law as well as the reliance on the substance of
Roman law in Gentili’s thought were downplayed, and emphasis was put on the
possibilities of integrating a strong conception of sovereignty with compulsory
legal procedures and on giving a systematic account of international legal rules.
In this way, Gentili appeared as a founder of a positivist and liberal tradition in
international law.
Moreover, Gentili’s rebuke of theological interference in legal matters—​Silete
theologi in munere alieno—​was much emphasized in the wake of Italian post-​
Risorgimento and made him a very influential, even iconic, figure in some
contexts.46
The central text establishing Gentili as one of the figureheads of international law
at the time was certainly Thomas Erskine Holland’s Inaugural Lecture in Oxford
of 1874. This was shortly thereafter followed by a new Latin edition of Gentili’s
De iure belli prepared by Holland and an Italian translation of that same work by
Antonio Fiorini, both in 1877.47

3. Breakdown of the League of Nations and the question

of non-​discrimination (early twentieth century)
After the First World War, the League of Nations built upon what the Hague con-
ventions had already established. On the other hand, problems that had beset the
League from the outset were exacerbated and, in many crises during the 1930s,
the League could not (or did not) do much to prevent or contain these events.
Given the sobering development regarding the League of Nations and the fickle
commitment of its members, questions concerning arbitration as well as the inte-
gration of national sovereignty and interests with compulsory international legal
procedures were constantly on the table. Since Gentili’s texts responded to this

46  On this phase of reception in general, on Holland’s role in the ‘discovery’ of the previously ‘for-
gotten’ author and on the Italian Gentili-​mania and its relation to the development of international
law, see Luigi Nuzzo, ‘Alberico Gentili “internazionalista” tra storia e storiografia’, in Luigi Lacchè (ed.),
‘Ius gentium ius communications ius belli’: Alberico Gentili e gli orizzonti della modernità (2009), pp.
73–​99; and Luigi Lacchè, ‘ “Celebrato come una gloria nazionale”: Pietro Sbarbaro e il “Risorgimento”
di Alberico Gentili’, in Pepe Ragoni (ed.), Alberico Gentili: Atti dei Convegni nel quarto centenario della
morte, vol. II (2010), pp. 189–​295.
47  Cf. Thomas Erskine Holland, ‘Alberico Gentili’, reprinted in Thomas Erskine Holland, Studies
in International Law: Reprint of the Edition Oxford 1898 (1979), pp. 1–​39; Antonio Fiorini, Del diritto
di guerra di Alberigo Gentile (1877); for a recent bibliography, see Diego Quaglione, ‘Introduzione’, in
Alberico Gentili, Il diritto di guerra (2008), pp. IX–​XXXIII.
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Alberico Gentili 107

problem, they formed part of the academic and publicist initiatives that sought to
strengthen international law. It was an American initiative, the Carnegie Endowment
for International Peace, established in 1910 by the industrialist Andrew Carnegie,
which was one of the most powerful social and cultural forces advocating for the
adoption of strong mechanisms of international law (and for the United States to
join the League of Nations). Among other activities, the Carnegie Endowment
funded a series of Classics of International Law, coordinated by James Brown Scott,
which featured original and translated versions of the works of classical authors
such as Grotius, Vitoria, and Gentili: Beginning in the 1920s, Gentili’s Hispanicae
Advociationis (1921), his De legibus (1924) and, once more, his De iure belli (1933)
appeared in this series.48 In this vein, Gentili was presented as one of the champions
of an effective, institutionalized order of international law.
While the Classics series was a larger attempt to represent the general pedigree
of international legal theory and doctrine, its diversity, and the theoretical preci-
sion of solutions that had historically been developed, there were also more focused
approaches: in 1937, the Dutch jurist Gesina van der Molen presented her dissertation
on the biography of Alberico Gentili. Beyond the general ambitions presented above,
she underlined the close connection between Gentili’s jurisprudential views, his publi-
cation activities, and his religious conviction. She identified both a tendency in Gentili
to maintain the superior position and importance of God for natural and international
law, and, at the same time, an insistence on a framework of public religious toleration.
After the end of the Second World War, the Nuremberg trials of 1945–​1946
and the establishment of the United Nations in 1945, the stakes of reading Gentili
seemed to have changed fundamentally: Carl Schmitt’s favourite quote from Gentili
was the famous ‘Silete theologi’. For Schmitt, who famously placed the responsi-
bility for deciding on the state of emergency on the coming into effect of the legal
system as a whole and in the hands of the sovereign,49 this meant the conceptual
repudiation of any normative authority above the state, be it theological, moral,
or legal. The bottom line of Gentili’s theory, Schmitt argued in his Nomos of the
Earth from 1950, was Gentili’s non-​discriminatory conception of war, fitting his
(Schmitt’s) idea of sovereignty as the point from which it is possible to define legal-
ity and ethical principles of law in the first place.50 Thus, Gentili was used rather to
argue against an internationally institutionalized legal framework that would curtail
the freedoms of individual sovereign states.

4. Historiographic work (late twentieth century)

While, to some extent, Holland’s lecture from 1874 was already based on thor-
ough historical research and provided a number of historical details, van der

48  Cf. Christopher Rossi, Broken Chain of Being:  James Brown Scott and the Origins of Modern
International Law (1998).
49 Carl Schmitt, Politische Theologie. Vier Kapitel zur Lehre von der Souveränität (8th edn,
2004), p. 13.
50  Carl Schmitt, Der Nomos der Erde im Völkerrecht des Jus Publicum Europaeum (1950), p. 92.
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108 Andreas Wagner

Molen’s biography from 1937 was, for a long time, the only work that had an
openly critical–​historical approach. It aimed to critically reconstruct Gentili as
a historical figure and his texts, so that attempts of appropriating him for con-
temporaneous legal–​political projects could be assessed critically, and van der
Molen’s normative and contemporaneous orientations show only very faintly
between the lines. This primarily historiographic approach gained much trac-
tion in the later 20th century, beginning with Diego Panizza’s important mon-
ograph, Alberico Gentili, Giurista Ideologo nell’Inghilterra Elisabettiana, from
1981.51 Panizza was also the driving force and long-​time scientific director of
the Centro Internazionale Studi Gentiliani in San Ginesio, which was founded in
the same year. It has since become the academic centre of research and interna-
tional debate about Gentili, hosting among others a series of biannual confer-
ences, the Convegni Giornate Gentiliane, inaugurated in 1983. With the pressure
regarding the seminal importance of Alberico Gentili for Western international
law removed, many works now investigate different aspects of Gentili’s life, his
historical context, and his doctrine in great detail and with considerable inves-
tigative effort.52

V.  The Present Role of Gentili’s Non-​Public Global Law,

its Advantages and Drawbacks

By focusing on the examples of two present authors who seem to be inspired by

Gentili, this last section will conclude the discussion of the reception of Gentili,
and at the same time pick up and assess the advantages and drawbacks of Gentili’s
approach. Even though historical sobriety has led to a sort of detachment between
historical research on the one hand and debates of systematic issues in current
international law on the other, one strand of relating these two has recently
become vaguely perceptible again:  without making their inspiration explicit,
some current developments feature authors who, on the one hand, publish on
Gentili and on his role in the history of international law, and who, on the other
hand and on other occasions, contribute to discussions about a global legal order
alternative to both the constitutionalization of international law and more ‘real-
ist’ models of states making merely instrumental use of international law. Since
the relation between both discussions is never made explicit, an attempt to recon-
struct it is necessarily somewhat speculative—​even more so as it concerns present
and ongoing discussions. Nonetheless, I will risk two such attempts, if only to
elucidate repercussions of those traits of Gentili’s theory that have been criticized

51  Diego Panizza, Alberico Gentili, giurista ideologo nell’Inghilterra Elisabettiana (n. 22).
52  Panizza’s work makes the point that Gentili was the first author to establish an ideological mode
of theorizing, i.e. writing in order to methodologically legitimize (and thereby also to set limits to)
political rule. The present author, however, considers Panizza to be of great importance primarily due
to his sustained historiographic effort and the organizational work that he has accomplished rather
than for that particular thesis.
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Alberico Gentili 109

above.53 The first example concerns a ‘Gentilian’ understanding of the everyday
workings of international law, the second one a more exceptional constellation.

1. Global administrative law struggling with political ambivalence

Taking the organization of international law according to the paradigm of private
law and the simultaneous endowment of this ‘private’ international law with the
normative force of natural law frees it from the need to be legislated and justified
in an institutionalized public procedure. If this is the gist of Gentili’s approach,
the analysis of ‘bottom-​up’ private ordering might be seen as the starting point for
the discovery of more general rules of international law and Gentili as an inspir-
ing author for attempts to theorize such general rules, their applicability, and their
binding force. If one is not bewildered by such a combination of historical and
contemporary systematic interests in the first place, one will find it interesting to
learn that Benedict Kingsbury, one of the organizers of the project behind a couple
of recent initiatives around Gentili,54 is also strongly involved in attempts to for-
mulate and normatively develop the theory of global administrative law (GAL):55
against ‘laissez-​faire’ private ordering and lex mercatoria, on the one hand, and
against unifying and monolithic tendencies of global constitutionalization, on the
other, the GAL approach is set to identify many diverse arenas of global and trans-
national governance and examine (or promote) the application of common proce-
dural principles known from domestic administrative law in these arenas. The ideas
of transparency, accountability, and participation feature prominently among such
principles and provide some foothold for attempts at justification of transnational
governance regimes. Yet, the approach renounces strong overarching institutions
and authorities corresponding (arguably) to pre-​globalization normative politi-
cal and legal theories that legitimize institution by their derivation from one such
fundamental jurisgenerative institution, i.e. from the constitution. From early on,
Kingsbury has connected the normative force of said principles to the publicness
of law, but explained that publicness as an inter-​public relation without taking
recourse to the assumption of a unified global public.56 That is, the normative

53  Cf. above, Section III.4.

54 Cf. articles such as Benedict Kingsbury, ‘Confronting Difference:  The Puzzling Durability
of Gentili’s Combination of Pragmatic Pluralism and Normative Judgment’, American Journal of
International Law 92(4) (1998), 713–​23; id., ‘Gentili, Grotius, and the Extra-​European World’, in
Harry N. Schreiber (ed.), The Law of the Sea: The Common Heritage and Emerging Challenges (2000), pp.
39–​60; edited volumes such as in Benedict Kingsbury (ed.), Alberico Gentili e Il Mondo Extraeuropeo: Atti
Del Convegno, Settima Giornata Gentiliana (2001); Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann
(eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law of Nations. Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (2010);
and Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann (eds.), trans David Lupher Alberico Gentili, The
Wars of The Romans: A Critical Edition and Translation of De Armis Romanis (2011); and institutional
projects like the Gentili fellowship at the IILJ at NYU Law School.
55  Cf. e.g. Benedict Kingsbury, Nico Krisch, and Richard B. Stewart, ‘The Emergence of Global
Administrative Law’, Law and Contemporary Problems 68(15) (2005), 15–​61.
56  Benedict Kingsbury, ‘International Law as Inter-​Public Law’, Nomos 49 (2009), 167–​204; id.,
‘The Concept of ‘Law’ in Global Administrative Law’, European Journal of International Law 20(1)
(2009), 23–​57.
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110 Andreas Wagner

weight is distributed between the respective domestic constitution of parties to such

regimes, on the one hand, and procedural rules for the interaction between those
parties, on the other. Quite similar to Gentili’s conception then, the different agents
of inter-​, trans-​, and supranational governance as well as their (quasi-​)legal products
are in principle not subject to a higher authority or institution. At the same time,
agents and regimes are restrained (on a theoretical level and in a non-​enforceable
way) by procedural rules that introduce presumably universal principles and estab-
lish at least thin standards of legitimacy of regimes and their outcomes. Moreover,
the tradition of jurisprudential discourse on domestic administrative law brings
additional assumptions of systematic rationality to the table, as the quasi-​system of
Roman law did in the case of Gentili’s natural/​international law.
Do the points of criticism that have been raised above with regard to Gentili
resurface in the debates around GAL? One of them was that the cultural particular-
ity of Roman law insofar as it is an institutional scholarly discourse and a forensic
practice belies its universal scope and its purported provision of equal access and
equal consideration for all parties. In terms of speaker positions, this has resulted
in an uneven factual distribution of discursive resources (and finally in unequal
treatment of equal persons and cases). In terms of the plasticity of Roman law, it
meant a reification that impeded the alleged flexibility and the dynamic adjustment
to new constellations to a considerable extent. As both Carol Harlow and Ming-​
Sung Kuo have argued, in many discourses on GAL, the political and particular
character of the movement was not acknowledged or glossed over, and the GAL
approach turned out more substantial than it was ready to admit.57 Then there was
an inverse problem, Gentili’s renunciation of an international institutional venue
for public deliberation about the law: while Gentili held that there was an inter-
national legal binding force for the sovereigns, he did not want to provide for a
mechanism to establish common interpretations of that law. In that sense, while
the universal community of mankind was a moral category, there was no room
for it to appear as a legal subject with its own public authority and to confront
sovereigns and their particular justifications and interpretations with community
interests and values. Authors such as Neil Walker have argued that, analogously, the
publicness constraint emphasized in the GAL approach needs to be developed into
a more substantial normative concept in order for the procedural principle to do
the rationalizing and legitimizing work it is supposed to do.58 One of the salient
points is the requirement of publicness as a criterion for the ‘second-​order’ level

57 Carol Harlow, ‘Global Administrative Law:  The Quest for Principles and Values’, European
Journal of International Law 17/​1 (2006), 187–​214; Ming-​Sung Kuo, ‘Inter-​Public Legality or Post-​
Public Legitimacy? Global Governance and the Curious Case of Global Administrative Law as a New
Paradigm of Law’, International Journal of Constitutional Law 10/​4 (2012), 1050–​75.
58  Neil Walker, ‘On the Necessarily Public Character of Law’, in Claudio Michelon, Haris Psarras,
Gregor Clunie, and Christopher McCorkindale (eds.), The Public in Law (2012), pp. 7–​33; for a
similar point about the accountability principle, cf. Danielle Hanna Rached, ‘Doomed Aspiration of
Pure Instrumentality: Global Administrative Law and Accountability’, Global Constitutionalism 3/​3
(2014), 338–​72.
 1

Alberico Gentili 111

of international regimes, i.e. the public constitution of an authority from which
first-​order (GAL) norms and institutions can be derived. Interestingly, in a recent
article, Kingsbury and other authors have acknowledged the substantial normative
commitments of their approach.59 They have conceded a political ambivalence of
their strong focus on a purely instrumental understanding of GAL, but pointed out
the inevitability of political struggles over the development of the concept and the
practice of GAL and the emancipatory potential of such struggles. In the same arti-
cle, they have brought forward a contribution to such far-​reaching debates, draw-
ing parallels between GAL and conceptions of deliberative democracy where one
would elucidate the other and suggest ways to unfold latent normative potentials.

2. Sovereign interpretive authority and self-​judgment

struggling with jus cogens norms
The awkward situation that the attribution of the ultimate interpretive authority
of international law to the sovereigns might lead to an erosion of international
law can be illustrated also by a quite different constellation.60 In 1997, John Yoo,
at the time Professor of Law at UC Berkeley, wrote a 25-​page introduction to an
edition of Gentili’s De Legationibus.61 And Gentili also appeared regularly in more
recent works of his on the law of war, discussing, among others, ‘asymmetrical’,
undeclared, partisan wars and different categories of involved or uninvolved per-
sons.62 In another text, Yoo explained how the 2003 invasion of Iraq has been
covered by international law’s right to anticipatory self-​defence.63 While this gen-
eral idea of anticipatory self-​defence might equally be referred to Gentili,64 in this
text Yoo did not resort to Gentili. He argued for reduced standards required in
the justification of such warfare due to contemporary factors such as terrorism
and weapons of mass destruction, but on the other hand he based one important
strand of his argument for pre-​emptive warfare on a definition of imminence of a
threat from 1837, thereby blinding out more recent legal developments such as the
Kellogg-​Briand pact’s renunciation of war as an instrument of national policy and
the whole development of the 1870s mentioned above. In fact, the development of
international law in the twentieth century exhibits clear attempts to limit the prin-
ciple of self-​judgment implied by theories of sovereignty like that of Gentili. Issues

59  Benedict Kingsbury, Megan Donaldson, and Rodrigo Vallejo, ‘Global Administrative Law and
Deliberative Democracy’, forthcoming in Anne Orford and Florian Hoffmann, The Oxford Handbook
of International Legal Theory (2016), available as preprint at <http://​ssrn.com/​abstract=2575435>
(accessed 26 January 2016).
60  The example is discussed in Christopher N. Warren, Literature and the Law of Nations, 1580-​
1680 (n. 13), pp. 229–​33.
61  Alberico Gentili, De Legationibus libri tres (1997).
62 Cf. John Yoo, Point of Attack: Preventive War, International Law, and Global Welfare (2014),
p. 63; cf. also John Yoo and Robert J. Delahunty, ‘Making War’, Cornell Law Review 93/​1 (2007), 143–​5.
63  John Yoo, ‘International Law and the War in Iraq’, American Journal of International Law 97(3)
(2003), 563–​76, esp. sect. III.
64  Cf. Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. 14 (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], pp. 61ff.).
12

112 Andreas Wagner

of self-​defence and of imminent threat are the most pointed way of putting the
question and even with regard to these, the subjective element is not the ultimate
criterion—​the international legality that it is capable of establishing is ‘provisional’,
or ‘temporary’, and subject to later revision by a third-​party arbiter.65 As Oscar
Schachter put it: ‘For it is incontrovertible that if a state or an individual claiming a
right has the exclusive authority to decide on the lawfulness of its exercise, the law
has reached a vanishing point.’66 Yoo for his part expresses no such concern.
In an even more prominent and controversial case, Yoo mentioned Gentili as an
important witness in legal, rather than scholarly, arguments: Acting as head of the
Office of Legal Counsel of the United States Department of Justice, Yoo in 2003
issued a memorandum arguing that
the application of these [generally applicable, limiting] statutes to the conduct of inter-
rogations of unlawful combatants would deprive the sovereign of a recognized prerogative.
Historically, nations have been free to treat unlawful combatants as they wish …67
Gentili is then quoted explicitly on the issue as one of the witnesses for this opin-
ion: ‘malefactors do not enjoy the privileges of a law to which they are foes’.68 This
complete lack of legal standing of the ‘malefactors’, the authority of the sovereign
as interpreter of her own international legal obligations and other factors allow
Yoo to argue for the admissibility of cruel and degrading interrogation techniques,
at the bottom line sidestepping what was and is considered a peremptory norm
of international law, i.e. the prohibition of torture.69 The little role of peremptory
norms in international legal practice and the lack of progress in identification of
jus cogens norms have been argued to have as one of their causes precisely an insuf-
ficient legitimacy and public authority of international adjudicative institutions.70
As far as Gentili is concerned, and besides the problem of self-​judgment implied
by Gentili’s theory of sovereignty, the crucial importance of sovereignty plays out
also in his idea of pirates being without the protection of international law. As the
example illustrates, this puts Gentili’s theory clearly at odds with universal indi-
vidual rights, however indispensable these may seem to us. There is a clear connec-
tion between Gentili’s insistence on the public constitution of sovereigns within
the particular context of their respective state, and the putting outside of the reach
of any law of certain persons. And there is again a clear connection between these

65  Cf. David Kaye, ‘Adjudicating Self-​Defense: Discretion, Perception, and the Resort to Force in
International Law’, Columbia Journal of Transnational Law 44 (2005–​2006), 159f.
66  Oscar Schachter, ‘Self-​Judging Self-​Defence’, Case Western Reserve Journal of International Law
19 (1987), 123.
67  Cf. John Yoo, ‘Memorandum for William J. Haynes II, General Counsel of the Department
of Defense’ from 14 March 14 2003 (online at <http://​www.aclu.org/​files/​pdfs/​safefree/​yoo_​army_​
torture_​memo.pdf>, accessed 23 November 2015), p. 15.
68  Ibid., n. 14. Cf. Gentili, De iure belli libri tres, lib. I, ch. 4 (ed. Brown Scott [n. 6], p. 22).
69  Cf. David Kretzmer, ‘Torture, Prohibition of ’, in Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International
Law, MPEPIL 880 (accessed 12 February 2016).
70  Cf. Matthew Saul, ‘Identifying Jus Cogens Norms: The Interaction of Scholars and International
Judges’, Asian Journal of International Law 5 (2015), 26–​54.
 13

Alberico Gentili 113

two aspects of his conception: the assignment of ultimate authority to interpret
international law without an international authority available to intervene to the
sovereigns, and the factual, opportunist use of such arguments for particular inter-
ests and expediency that ignore or reverse inconvenient developments of interna-
tional law. This is present both in Gentili’s texts and in some arguments advanced
in today’s debates.

3. Conclusion
Given the present relevance of patterns of arguments used by Gentili, and given
the present, perhaps inescapable, asymmetries in power between sovereigns, it is
appropriate then to repeat an earlier critical assessment: Gentili does not seem to
provide conceptual resources to establish—​as a necessary component of interna-
tional law’s procedures, or at least as an aim—​a forum to prevent the law from
only ever working to the benefit of the powerful. For Gentili, there is a strong
incentive, and even a moral imperative, to resort to arbitration and to aim for
peace, even for the powerful sovereigns. But there is no conceptual, let  alone
institutional, room for public (in the sense of universal) deliberation of all parties
on equal standing so that the affected parties—​rather than some authority with
either a particularistic pedigree or with more universal, but shaky legitimacy—​
could agree on common interpretations of the law. A core issue one might have
with Gentili’s theory is related to the fact that, obviously and inevitably, one of
the central tenets of normative legal theory, ‘nemo iudex in causa sua’ is connected
to the presence of public institutions of international law (in a strong sense of
publicness).
More generally, to end on a more positive note, the fact that Gentili’s original
arguments (and their shortcomings) seem to converge on the same serious issues
and points of contention as today’s debates suggests that his theory is located right
at the centre of core problems of international law.

Selected Bibliography
Haggenmacher, Peter, ‘Grotius and Gentili:  A  Reassessment of Thomas E.  Holland’s
Inaugural Lecture’, in Hedley Bull, Benedict Kingsbury, and Adam Roberts (eds.), Hugo
Grotius and International Relations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), pp. 133–​76.
Holland, Thomas Erskine, ‘Alberico Gentili’, reprinted in idem, Studies in International
Law: Reprint of the Edition Oxford 1898 (Aalen: Scientia, 1979), pp. 1–​39.
Kingsbury, Benedict, ‘Confronting Difference: The Puzzling Durability of Gentili’s
Combination of Pragmatic Pluralism and Normative Judgment’, American Journal of
International Law 92 (1998), 713–​23.
Kingsbury, Benedict and Straumann, Benjamin (eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law of
Nations: Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010).
Panizza, Diego, Alberico Gentili, giurista ideologo nell’Inghilterra Elisabettiana (Padova: La
Garangola, 1981).
14

114 Andreas Wagner
Panizza, Diego, ‘Political Theory and Jurisprudence in Gentili’s De Iure Belli: The Great
Debate Between “Theological” and “Humanist” Perspectives from Vitoria to Grotius’,
IILJ Working Paper 15 (2005).
van der Molen, Gesina, Alberico Gentili and the Development of International Law: His Life
Work and Times (Amsterdam: Paris, 1937, 2nd rev edn Leyden: Sijthoff, 1968).
Wagner, Andreas, ‘Francisco de Vitoria and Alberico Gentili on the Legal Character of the
Global Commonwealth’, Oxford Journal of Legal Studies 31(3) (2011), 565–​82.
 15

6
Althusius
Back to the Future

Thomas O. Hueglin

The contribution of Johannes Althusius (1563–​1638) to system and order in inter-

national law lies in his early-​modern construction of a federal theory of politics not
yet based on the distinction of national and international law and thus of heuristic
value for a post-​modern system of transnational order. The main objective of this
theory, the Politica Methodice Digesta,1 is the stable organization and preservation
of political plurality. To this end, it emphasizes negotiated agreement over majori-
tarian decision-​making, and power sharing based on considerations of subsidiarity
over exclusive power assignment to separate levels of governance. It thus can help
conceptualizing a post-​Westphalian international political order in which individ-
ual rights would be complemented by the collective or group rights of a plurality of
smaller and larger communities.
While the Politica was primarily occasioned by the struggle of religious minori-
ties against rising state absolutism in the aftermath of the Reformation, it was also
meant to provide a systematic justification for the autonomy of smaller communi-
ties in a composite commonwealth modelled after the Holy Roman Empire. Still
writing in a pre-​Westphalian world of overlapping plural rule, Althusius combined
the Aristotelian foundation of politics with principles of Roman law as well as
drawing on Reformed theology and theories of resistance against tyranny that had
sprung from it. The result is a theory of con-​federal federalism carried throughout
by a spirit of shared or co-​sovereignty. It is entirely constructed bottom-​up: each
level in a multilevel commonwealth is governed by a council of delegates from what
he calls consociations at the next lower level. The emphasis is on mutual coopera-
tion and consensus rather than power separation and majority rule. The main nor-
mative guideline for the allocation of power is subsidiarity. Widely read at the time,

1  Johannes Althusius, Politica Methodice Digesta Atque Exemplis Sacris Et Profanis Illustrata (1614);
this is the usually cited 3rd edn, which has also been reprinted in facsimile (1981). A slightly abridged
English translation is Frederick S. Carney ed. and trans. Johannes Althusius, Politica, together with the
forewords (Praefatio) to the 1st (1603) and 3rd (1613) edns ([1964] 1995). Citations in this chapter
largely follow Carney but will deviate when the original Latin text suggests a slightly different own
translation.

Althusius: Back to the Future. Thomas Hüglin. © Thomas Hüglin, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford
University Press.
16

116 Thomas O. Hueglin

Althusius was harshly condemned during the age of absolutism and largely forgot-
ten in a modern world of sovereign nation-​states. Moreover, the rise of the modern
federal state with its strict separation of powers and the assumption of indivisible
centralized sovereignty also kept him at the margins as a theorist of federalism. His
place among the classics of political thought, however, is no longer in dispute, and
his relevance has been acknowledged particularly in the context of the European
Union as a novel form of con-​federal federalism. Herein also lies his significance for
international law in a post-​Westphalian global order.

I.  Early-​Modern Context: Territorial Absolutism

and Political Calvinism

The life of Althusius falls into a most dramatic and traumatic period of transition.
The Reformation had brought to an end the last vestiges of medieval Christian
universalism. The plurality of overlapping rule under the formula of rex imperator
in regno suo2 was giving way to the rise of a European territorial state system with
exclusive sovereignty claims. Under the Augsburg Religious Peace of 1555, those
claims included the determination of an official state religion according to the indi-
vidual ruler’s preference and own denomination. Religious dissenters and minori-
ties had to fear suppression or outright persecution.
Althusius was born into a peasant family in Diedenshausen in the County of
Wittgenstein-​Berleburg.3 During his years of education, which would take him to
Marburg, Cologne, Basle, and Geneva, he received support from Count Ludwig
the Elder of Sayn-​Wittgenstein, the ruler of Wittgenstein Berleburg and a promi-
nent figure among Germany’s Reformed princes. After his promotion as doctor of
both civil and ecclesiastical law 1586 in Basle, he received, still in the same year, a
call to the Hohe Schule Herborn, a Calvinist academy founded by Count Johann
the Elder of Nassau-​Dillenburg, another prominent Reformed prince and brother
of William of Orange. There, with some interruptions, he taught law and politics
until 1604. In that year, after having published the first edition of his Politica,
he accepted appointment as city syndic4 in Emden, a Reformed German seaport
in the vicinity of the Netherlands. Until his death in 1638, Althusius guided the
city through turbulent times, remained active as a scholar,5 and served as church
elder. The most traumatic events during Althusius’ long life as a Reformed

2  A king possesses as much power over his particular realm as does the emperor over the whole.
3  Biographical information on Althusius is available mostly in German. A synopsis is provided in
Thomas O. Hueglin, Early Modern Concepts for a Late Modern World: Althusius on Community and
Federalism (1999), pp. 29–​41; while the older literature assumed that Althusius was born in 1557, it
now seems more likely that his year of birth was 1563.
4  As syndic, Althusius was the city’s chief executive officer and as such accountable to the city
council.
5  Apart from subsequent revised and enlarged editions of the Politica, Althusius also published a
major work on jurisprudence: Johannes Althusius, Dicaelogicae Libri Tres (1617); a 2nd edn (1649) was
still revised by Althusius but published after his death.
 17

Althusius 117
Christian were the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacres of 1572, the Dutch Revolt
against Catholic Spain culminating in the 1581 Act of Abjuration and subsequent
assassination of Wilhelm of Orange in 1584, and the Thirty Years’ War (1618–​
1648), which began as a religious war between Catholicism and Protestantism and
ended with territorial consolidation among territorial rulers.
The St. Bartholomew’s Day massacres were the most distressing event by far.
Some 10,000 Huguenots may have been savagely cut to pieces by Catholic mobs
after the murder of their leaders had been ordered by the Catholic French mon-
arch Charles IX and his queen mother Catherine de’ Medici. The most prominent
victim was the Admiral of France, Gaspard II de Coligny, whom Catherine sus-
pected of persuading the indecisive Charles to adopt the Reformed faith as well as
harbouring plans to draw France into a war with Catholic Spain by intervening in
the Dutch Revolt.6 This first organized killing of fellow Christians in the name of
reason of state propelled into publicist overdrive a new kind of political Calvinism
no longer content with securing minority rights under the umbrella of unques-
tioned monarchical rule. A series of Reformed pamphlets printed and disseminated
all over Europe by the so-​called Monarchomachs not only justified resistance and
even tyrannicide but moreover argued that legitimate governance required popu-
lar consent, and that even foreign intervention was warranted against oppression
in neighbouring countries.7 Survivors of the massacres fled into emigration. An
impressionable young Althusius may have met some of them in Geneva.
The revolt of the Reformed Dutch provinces against religious and political
oppression by Catholic Spain was the prelude to the final unravelling of the old
Christian Europe in the Thirty Years’ War. In 1581, when the Reformed Dutch
provinces repudiated allegiance to King Philip II of Spain, they did not opt for
outright independence—​as yet unthinkable in a world generally thought to be
governed by kings and princes. Instead, their intention was to submit to the law-
ful governance of another sovereign, and only when they could not find a taker,
they resorted to republican self-​governance. Althusius would later suggest exactly
the same in his own theory of lawful resistance against tyranny: When ‘the head
of a province does not protect his subjects in time of need, or refuses to support
them, they can submit themselves to another’.8 Ten years after Althusius’ death, the
Westphalian Peace Treaties at Münster and Osnabrück recognized the independ-
ence of the Dutch Republic and brought on its way a new world of sovereign ter-
ritorial states.
Althusius already was in Emden when he wrote the preface to the second edi-
tion of the Politica in which he reflected on his time at the Herborn academy.
His ambition had been to establish politics as a discipline in its own right, and as

6  A recent account of this traumatic event is Barbara D. Diefendorf, The Saint Bartholomew’s Day
Massacre: A Brief History with Documents (2008).
7  See Robert M. Kingdon, ‘Calvinism and Resistance Theory’, in J.H. Burns (ed.), The Cambridge
History of Political Thought 1450-​1700 (2004), pp. 193–​218.
8  Politica, chapter VIII, paragraph 92 (n. 1) (Quod si talis provinciae praeses tempore necessitatis suos
subditos non protegit, vel auxilia illis ferre recusat, tum illi se alii submittere possunt).
18

118 Thomas O. Hueglin

distinguished from both jurisprudence and theology. For him political science was
a crucible in which answers to the two most intricate questions of the epoch had
to be melded, the proper sources and ownership of the rights of sovereignty, and
the organization of a pious and just life as demanded by the moral prescriptions of
the Decalogue. He would not take anything away from jurists or theologians, he
assured his sceptical colleagues, because ‘where the political scientist ceases, there
the jurist begins’, just as he takes from the Decalogue only what is ‘proper to politi-
cal science insofar as it breathes a vital spirit into symbiotic life’.9
It was in Emden where theoretical ambition then turned into practical politics.10
Situated at the north-​western corner of the Empire adjacent to the Netherlands,
Emden was at the time one of the wealthiest seaports in all of Europe, a hub of the
North Sea trade that had been displaced from Dutch ports during the turmoil of
the Revolt. The city was Calvinist and known as the ‘Geneva of the north’. It had
given refuge to a large number of Dutch emigrants. The Calvinist city, however,
also was located in the Imperial province of East Frisia, which in turn was under
the rule of Lutheran counts. The ambition of these counts was to transform their
backward provincial fiefdom into a modernized absolutist state along the lines
already accomplished or in progress elsewhere. To this end, they demanded that
the city adopt the Lutheran faith as was their right under the August Religious
Peace agreement, and they required unlimited powers of taxation over the prov-
ince’s richest burghers.
The city denied both the religious and financial impositions. Already before
Althusius arrived, decisive action had been taken in the so-​called revolution of
1595: the count’s governing city magistrate was forcefully removed and replaced by
a city council; the post of city syndic was created for strategic guidance and execu-
tive leadership; and a military garrison was established under a Dutch commander.
The city obtained guarantees of religious freedom as well as autonomous rights of
taxation. With Althusius at the helm of business, the city would repeatedly avail
itself of the garrison’s soldiers to press for further concessions. Once, in 1618, the
ruling count even found himself under arrest in his own city residence. By 1627,
Althusius had succeeded in re-​writing the city’s formal oath of allegiance to the
count, from a one-​sided declaration of loyalty, to a two-​sided contract with mutual
obligations: practical politics inspired by theoretical ambition indeed.

II.  Conceptual Foundations: Federal Theology

and the Question of Sovereignty
‘On the morrow of Saint Bartholomew, Europe awoke to a new epoch in the
history of its political doctrines.’ Thus wrote Harold Laski in the foreword to a

9  Politica, Praefatio 1613 (n. 1) (Propriam vero politicae vindico, quatenus spiritum vitae symbioticae
inspirat… quod politicus ibi desinat, ubi incipit jurisconsultus).
10  See again Hueglin, Early Modern Concepts, pp. 29–​41 (n. 3).
 19

Althusius 119
modern English edition of one of the most famous and influential pamphlets
the Monarchomachs had written, the anonymously published Vindiciae contra
Tyrannos of 1579.11 At stake was nothing less than the question of sovereignty, of
who should hold ultimate power and authority in an increasingly divided Christian
world. It was a question that had been left open in the pre-​Reformation world of
rex imperator in regno suo. Emperors, kings, and princes all happily relied on the
Roman law principle according to which they were above the law, legibus solutus,
but in practice this meant only that as far as their actual authority reached, and in
line with however vague appeals to divine or natural law, they could change their
own laws, or those of their predecessors. Divine or natural law was grounded in
the moral teachings of the universal church. The Reformation had already led to
religious wars among countries and princes. What Saint Bartholomew changed was
the spectre of civil war within countries. And there were two diametrically opposed
answers to the question of how to regain peace and stability.
In 1576, Jean Bodin gave one answer with his epochal definition of sovereignty
as ‘absolute and perpetual power’.12 Moreover, he declared that the ‘prerogatives
of sovereignty are indivisible’.13 He did so because he feared that anarchy would
result from the Huguenots’ assertions of a right of resistance against a king whom
he unquestioningly assumed to be the sovereign.14 Welcomed by Europe’s territo-
rial princes, Bodin’s definition gave a whole new meaning to the formula of princeps
legibus solutus: it eliminated whatever had been thought of as the autonomous rights
of smaller communities within a larger realm. For religious minorities such as the
Huguenots in France this meant that survival was at stake. Three years after Bodin,
therefore, the Vindiciae gave a very different answer by postulating a deliberately
polemical counter-​formula: the people are released from all obligations, populus…
omni obligatione solutus, when kings violate their rights.15
The question about the origin of these rights forms the political core of the
Vindiciae’s argument, and of what was taught as ‘federal theology’ at Herborn
and other Calvinist academies in Europe. It is the argument of a double covenant
between God and the people of Israel mainly taken from Deuteronomy in the Old
Testament. The argument in brief is this: by entering into a first covenant, God,
king, and people pledge to each other mutual allegiance and loyalty. God will lead
the people to the promised land in return for their promise to piously uphold his
laws. A second and similar covenant, however is established between the king and

11  Harold J. Laski, ‘Historical Introduction’, in A Defence of Liberty Against Tyrants, anonymously
published under the pseudonym of Junius Brutus in 1579 (1924), pp. 1–​60.
12  Cited from the 1606 English edition and translation by Richard Knolles: Jean Bodin, The Six
Books of a Commonwealth, ed. and trans. Richard Knolles (1606), I.8; available online at <https://​
archive.org/​details/​sixbookesofcommo00bodi>.
13 Bodin, The Six Books, II. 1 (n. 12).
14 Julian H. Franklin, ‘Introduction’, in Julian H. Franklin (ed. and trans.), Jean Bodin, On
Sovereignty (2005), pp. xxii–​xxiii.
15  Hubert Languet, Johann Baptist Fickler, and Philippe de Mornay, Vindiciae Contra Tyrannos
(1622), Quaestio III; available online at <http://​babel.hathitrust.org/​cgi/​pt?id=osu.3243501766788
2;view=1up;seq=7>.
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120 Thomas O. Hueglin

the people: because both people and king are directly responsible for upholding
the first covenant with God, they both must also hold each other to account for
violations of God’s law. Herein lies the seed for all Reformed resistance theories.
In addition, the Calvinists pointed out that the kings had entered or joined the
original covenant between people and God only at a later time. From this they
deduced that in the second covenant the king ‘promised absolutely, and the people
conditionally’.16 The people, in other words, only had to obey the king’s laws only
so long they were just laws. Herein in turn lies the seed for the Calvinists’ claims of
the people’s superiority over their rulers.
The victory of royal absolutism over claims of popular sovereignty during the two
centuries that followed had as much to do with the elegant simplicity of Bodin’s for-
mula as with the fact that these claims came from religious minorities. The Calvinist
Monarchomachs also had no clear answer as to how their claims might be trans-
formed into political practice. They ‘postulated a government by consent of the
governed and a right to rebel against tyranny’.17 How could consent be obtained,
however, when there was no unified people to be asked in the first place? This is
the question that Althusius asked when he was confronted, at Herborn, with the
incompatibility between, on the one hand, the teachings of federal theology, and,
on the other hand, what he already saw as ‘common opinion,’ the ‘rights of sov-
ereignty and their sources… belonging to the prince and supreme magistrate’.18
Against ‘Bodin’s clamors’,19 Althusius insisted in the 1603 foreword to the first
edition of the Politica, that the rights of sovereignty instead belong ‘to the com-
monwealth and people’.20 In the foreword to the second edition of 1610, already
at Emden, he elaborated with much more precision: the owner and beneficiary of
the rights of sovereignty is ‘none other than the total people consociated in one
symbiotic body from a plurality of smaller consociations’.21
The logic leading Althusius to this early-​modern postulation of the people’s col-
lective ownership of sovereignty was not just dictated by strategic considerations
of stability and survival. Such considerations had led the Monarchomachs to the
postulation of a covenanted relationship between king and people in which the
people’s loyal obedience was conditional upon the king observing certain limits
of governance. In this way the people could be considered superior to their rulers,
but this superiority did not include any original grant of power.22 The people was
only legibus solutus and could resist the king when he violated his obligations under

16  Languet, Fickler, and de Mornay, Vindicae contre Tyrannos, Quaestio III (n. 15) (promittebat rex
pure, populus sub conditione).
17  Reinhard Bendix, Kings or People (1980), p. 325.
18  Praefatio 1603 (n. 1) (communi calculo… majestatis capita & jura… principi & summi magistra-
tui propria adsignari).
19  Praefatio 1603 (n. 1) (Bodini clamores).
20  Praefatio 1603 (n. 1) (Reipublicae & populo).
21  Praefatio 1614 (n. 1); the 1610 foreword was also retained for all subsequent editions (nullum
alium, quam populum universum, in corpus unum symbioticum ex pluribus minoribus consociationibus
consociatum).
22  See J.W. Gough, The Social Contract (1967), p.14.
 12

Althusius 121
the covenant. Althusius arrived at his far more radical postulation of the people’s
sovereignty by converting the idea of a covenanted relationship between people and
ruler into a constitutional system of legitimate governance. In doing so, he not only
turned from federal theology to natural law, but moreover transformed the medi-
eval assumption of plural rule into a systematic order of divided and shared rule by
turning the rex imperator in regno suo formula on its head.23
According to ‘natural law’, Althusius declared, ‘all men are equal and not subject
to anyone’s jurisdiction except by their own consent and voluntary act’. This is so
because ‘in the beginning of the human race, there were neither empires … nor
rulers of them’. Both were ‘constituted only later, out of necessity, by the people
itself ’.24 It is therefore the ruler or supreme magistrate who does not possess an
original grant of power. Instead, he is constituted by a ‘reciprocal contract’ in which
his obligations as the ‘mandatory’ precede those of the ‘universal consociation’ as
the ‘mandator’.25 This is a far cry indeed from the traditional assumption of plural
rule under the rex imperator formula, under which the emperor’s sovereign powers
over the ‘whole’ of the empire had in principle been considered as constrained only
by the exercise of de facto similar powers by kings and princes in their respective
realms. Althusius turned the logic of this formula upside down by limiting the
powers of the emperor or supreme magistrate, not as a consequence of the de facto
powers exercised by the other members of the empire or commonwealth, but by
means of a clear mandate received from these members: ‘The supreme magistrate
receives only as much right as is explicitly conceded to him by the consociated bod-
ies or members of the realm.’26
Althusius effectively turned the Calvinist double covenant in to a triple cov-
enant: a first one between people, ruler, and God meant to establish the parameters
of a just and pious life; a second one securing mutual accountability between people
and ruler, reformulated as a contract of mandated executive government; and a
third one as the necessary precondition for the second, a social contract establishing
the people as an organized body.27 It is this social contract that gives both expres-
sion to the sovereignty of the people as such an organized body, and circumscribes
the limits of the ruler’s executive power. As was the case in the Holy Roman Empire,
Althusius thought of the election of a supreme magistrate as the default option.28
Regarding this election, then, he expounded, the ‘highest concern must be given to

23  See Hueglin, Early Modern Concepts, pp.169–​93 (n. 3).

24  Politica XVIII. 18 (n. 1) (jure naturali omnes homines sunt equales & nullius jurisdictioni subjecti,
nisi ex suo consensu & facto voluntario…Nec enim in principio generis humani fuerunt imperia…, neque
horum rectores, quae tamen postea necessitate postulante an ipsomet populo sunt constituta).
25  Politica XIX. 6–​7 (n. 1) (In contractu autem hoc reciproco inter magistratum summum mandata-
rium…& consociationem universalem mandantem, praecedit obligatio magistratus…).
26  Politica XIX. 6–​7 (n. 1) (Tantum autem juris habet hic summus magistratus, quantum illi a corpo-
ribus consociatis, seu membris regni, est expresse concessum).
27  It is this third covenant that renders unconvincing the view of some according to which Politica
must be seen primarily as the construction of a religious state; for a more balanced recent assessment see
Bettina Koch, ‘Johannes Althusius: Between Secular Federalism and the Religious State’, in Ann Ward
and Lee Ward (eds.), The Ashgate Research Companion to Federalism (2009), pp. 75–​90.
28  Politica XVIII (n. 1); election by so-​called ephors analogous to electoral princes in the Empire.
12

122 Thomas O. Hueglin

the fundamental law of the realm, which is nothing other than those pacts by which
many cities and provinces come together and agree to establish and defend one and
the same commonwealth’.29
Obviously, the Althusian social contract that precedes and is distinct from the
government contract that follows is not a social contract among individuals, as
Thomas Hobbes would propose, half a century later, collapsing social and govern-
ment contract into one. It is a contract among a plurality of smaller and larger
communities. It is also not a fictitious contract. Despite all Bodinian ‘clamors’,
Althusius still saw the Empire and all other realms like it as a composite com-
monwealth in which nobody possessed exclusive and indivisible authority, and
major governance decisions depended on agreement and compromise. Sovereignty
in such a commonwealth was co-​sovereignty shared by its members. In fact, the
Althusian insistence on the organized body of the people as the collective owner
of ultimate authority points to a procedural understanding of sovereignty: it only
exists when the deliberative process of negotiation and compromise works. How
that process works is the subject matter of Althusius’ theory of federalism proper.

III.  A Theory of Federalism: Council Governance,

Subsidiarity, and Consent

It is not a theory of federalism in the conventional modern sense. That would be a

theory almost exclusively based on the constitutional model of the American cen-
tralized federal state. It was first brought on its way by the authors of the Federalist
Papers defending and justifying the American constitutional draft of 1789.30 The
core of that defence was a rejection of confederalism with its reliance on intergov-
ernmental agreement instead of direct agency of a strong federal government in the
name of efficiency and stability. The model rests on the combination of three insti-
tutional and procedural mechanisms: a constitutional division of powers between
two levels of government; dual representation of population and constituent mem-
ber units in two elected legislative chambers at the national level; and compound
majoritarianism as the default mode of decision-​making whereby legislative acts
have to be passed by both chambers.
The dominance of the American model has obscured the existence of a European
procedural model of federalism that followed the tradition of the Holy Roman
Empire and has found its most recent reconfiguration in the European Union.31
Instead of dividing powers, it relies on power sharing under the principle of

29  Politica XIX. 49 (n. 1) (In electione vero summi magistratus, summa cura legis fundamentalis regni,
habenda est. … Est autem haec fundamentalis lex, nihil aliud, quam pacta quaedam, sub quibus plures
civitates & provinciae coierunt & consenserunt in unam eandemque Rempubl. habendam & defendam).
30  Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison, The Federalist ([1787–​1788] 2001).
31  Thomas O. Hueglin, ‘Comparing Federalisms: Variations or Distinct Models?’, in Arthur Benz
and Jörg Broschek (eds.), Federal Dynamics: Continuity, Change, and the Varieties of Federalism (2013),
pp. 27–​47.
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Althusius 123
subsidiarity; instead of an elected second legislative chamber, there is a council of
ex officio delegates of the member unit governments; and decision making remains
characterized by a search for intergovernmental agreement ‘in the shadow’ of for-
mal majority rule.32 Subsidiarity, council governance, and a consent requirement
for questions of vital interest to individual members were hallmarks of legitimate
Imperial governance before the dawn of modern parliamentary governance. For
Althusius, these are the systematic building blocs for what amounts to a procedural
theory of federalism.
That theory quite deliberately begins with Aristotle. Bodin had dismissed
Aristotle because his definition of sovereign power as absolute and indivisible could
be reconciled neither with the Aristotelian doctrine of a mixed regime or consti-
tution,33 nor with the philosopher’s definition of a good citizen as someone who
actively participates in politics.34 In the opening chapter of the Politica, Althusius
conversely affirms that, in explicit reference to Aristotle, ‘man is a social animal by
nature’,35 and that, therefore, ‘the subject matter of politics are precepts for the com-
munication of those goods, services and rights that we bring together as common
advantages of social life’.36 Contrary to Bodin’s rights-​based definition of politics,
in other words, Althusius emphasizes politics as a communicative process. Politics
is not defined by the question of who has the right to govern and who does not.
Instead, Althusius defines it as ‘symbiosis’, the ‘art of consociation’, ars consociandi,
whereby those who live together as ‘symbiotes’, symbiotici, ‘pledge themselves each
to the other, by explicit or tacit agreement, to mutual communication of whatever
is useful and necessary for the harmonious exercise of social life’.37
The definition of politics as mutual communication echoes Aristotle’s anti-​
Platonic dictum that the virtue of the citizen was the ability ‘to rule and to be
ruled’.38 Althusius departs from the philosopher, however, by applying the precepts
of citizenship not just to the members of a single small community or polis as Greek
political thought did in general, but to a larger and composite commonwealth in
which the smaller units are the constituent members of the larger ones. This was a
radical proposition occasioned by the threat to autonomy and survival that smaller
civic and religious communities such as Emden suffered from territorial state build-
ing. It was radical because it went squarely both against the dualistic juxtaposi-
tion of emperor and territorial princes under the old rex imperator formula in the
Empire, and against the monism of the new doctrine of sovereignty. Under the old
formula, the role of the emperor and the political status of territorial estates had
been left conspicuously ambiguous. Under the new doctrine, the emperor could

32 Eva Krick, Verhandlungen im Konsensverfahren: Varianten kollektiver Entscheidung in

Expertengremien (2013), p. 280.
33 Bodin, The Six Books, I.10 (n. 12). 34 Bodin, The Six Books, I.6 (n. 12).
35  Politica I. 32 (n. 1) (homo natura ipsa sociale animal est).
36  Politica I. 31 (n. 1) (subjectum politicae sunt praecepta de communicatione quarundam rerum, oper-
arum & juris, quae ad… commune commodum vitae socialis conferimus).
37  Politica I: 2 (n. 1) (inter se invicem ad communicationem mutuam eorum, qua pacto expresso, vel
tacito, quae ad vitae socialis usum & consortium sunt utilia & necessaria, se obligant).
38 Aristotle, The Politics (1981), 1277a25.
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124 Thomas O. Hueglin

only be seen either as the absolute ruler over the whole of the Empire, which he
clearly was not, or as a mere figure-​head presiding over an aristocracy of sovereign
princes, which was Bodin’s view.39
For Althusius, the emperor or supreme magistrate is the administrator of a uni-
versal consociation constituted from a plurality of particular such consociations.
The modalities of governance in this multilevel commonwealth form the core of a
theory of federalism that is neither ‘confederal’ nor ‘federal’ in the modern sense of
this distinction. The universal consociation does have direct agency and significant
powers of its own, yet these powers remain tied to approval by its constituent mem-
bers in significant ways. Similarly, approval will be based on majority decisions in
principle but remain tied to a consent requirement in significant ways yet again.
Althusius avails himself of the Empire as the most obvious example in practice
but in methodologically systematic intention, he will formulate general principles
transcending that template.
The systematic intention is most clearly visible in the way Althusius describes
the construction of the multilevel commonwealth. Leaving aside the early chapters
on family and kinship, which Althusius insists are part of politics because the same
rules of mutuality apply as elsewhere, subsequent chapters of the Politica explain
how guilds and colleges come together forming cities and rural towns; how many
such minor and particular consociations then form provinces as larger particular
consociations, and how many cities and provinces finally agree to form the univer-
sal consociation or commonwealth. In principle, each consociation at each level is
governed by a council composed of delegates from its constituent members, i.e. the
consociations at the next lower level. What is systematic, here, is the level of inclu-
siveness by constructing membership in the commonwealth from the bottom up
instead of relying on tradition or privilege bestowed from the top down. All cities
are included, for instance, and not just Imperial cities. Likewise, as was the case in
East Frisia but otherwise uncommon throughout Europe, ‘peasants and shepherds’
are included in the representative composition of provincial estates.40
In principle also, these councils are headed by an elected magistrate or prefect.
In practice, Althusius knew full well that the ruling princes in the provinces of
the Empire received their mandate not from counciliar election but from Imperial
privilege, a fact which he downplayed by insisting that in ‘grave matters’ such as
war and peace, taxation and other matters of general legislation, these princely pro-
vincial ‘prefect(s) can do nothing without the consent of the assembled provincial
orders’,41 just as the ‘opinion of the combined estates and orders prevails over the
presiding officer or supreme magistrate’ at the universal councils of the realm.42
What is systematic in this instance is that all executive governance is dependent

39 Bodin, The Six Books, II. 6 (n. 12). 40  Politica VIII. 47 (n. 1) (agricolae & pastores).
41  Politica VIII. 50 (n. 1) (In negotiis arduis…prefectus hicce sine consensu & conventu ordinum pro-
vinciae, nihil aget).
42  Politica XXXIII. 20 (n. 1) (sententia igitur universorum statuum & ordinum praevalet praesidis seu
summi magistratus sententiae).
 125

Althusius 125
on counciliar approval regardless of whether the legitimation of office holders is
derived from election or hereditary privilege.
That kings and princes depended on the approval of estates and orders within
their respective realms was nothing new. Althusius in fact employs the old medieval
formula derived from Roman law according to which ‘what touches all should be
approved by all’.43 In its medieval understanding, however, this consent require-
ment gave expression to a duality of authority. King and estates embodied different
spheres of authority. The king needed approval when his actions ‘touched’ rights
and liberties of the estates. If he only exercised his own authority, no approval was
needed.44 Althusius transformed this consent requirement in two significant ways.
First, as already discussed above, the collective body of the people is the sole
owner of the rights of sovereignty, and the supreme magistrate is only given a man-
date for executive governance. The old duality of authority is overcome by the sepa-
ration of social and government contract. Moreover, the estates and other orders
such as cities no longer embody authority of their own, they represent, at each
level of consociation, the collective will of the people organized into those smaller
and particular consociations by whom they are constituted. The councils of cities
and rural areas represent the collective will of guilds and colleges including those
of peasants and shepherds, provincial assemblies represent the collective will of
cities and rural areas, and the universal council of the commonwealth in turn rep-
resents the collective will of cities and provinces. This is of course not equivalent
to direct representation of individual citizens in the modern sense. What Althusius
constructs instead is an indirect and ascending chain of counciliar governance in
which citizens are collectively represented according to local, regional. and univer-
sal spheres of common interest.
Second, Althusius transformed the medieval consent requirement into a differ-
entiated mode of decision making that also went beyond early-​modern practice at
the Imperial assemblies or Reichstage, which he described in detail in a passage of
the Politica omitted from the abridged English translation.45 After outlining the
general rules of convocation, composition, and voting rights, Althusius turns to
the procedures of decision making.46 There are three parties to the process: the
Electoral Princes and the Imperial Princes as the major ‘colleges’, and the Imperial
Cities, which do not possess full voting rights but play a role of mediator in case
the two other colleges disagree. These three colleges first deliberate separately, and
then come together in search of a common position or resolution. The Electoral
Princes deliberate first and then pass their resolution on two the Imperial Princes.
The Imperial Cities will only be drawn into the process in case of disagreement

43  Althusius refers to this formula twice, verbatim in his discussion of decision making in guilds
and colleges, Politica IV. 20 (n. 1) (quod omnes tangit, ab omnibus…approbari debet), and modified
in a reference to the representative purpose of universal councils, Politica XVII. 60, where he says that
what touches all, should also and in fairness be acted upon by all (quod omnis tangit, ab omnibus etiam
peragi aequum est).
44  See Harvey C. Mansfield, Jr., ‘Modern and Medieval Representation’, in J. Roland Pennock and
John W. Chapman (eds.), Representation (1968), pp. 78–​9.
45  Politica XXXIII. 46–​110 (n. 1). 46  Politica XXXIII. 70–7 (n. 1).
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126 Thomas O. Hueglin

of the other two colleges. In that case, they can either side with one of the differ-
ing opinions or offer their own. Decisions at the Imperial Assemblies of the Holy
Roman Empire could be made by majority rule. However, a final resolution could
only be adopted when the disagreement of one of the major colleges is just one of
being ‘indifferent but not of outright opposition’.47
As this last formulation suggests, the entire process is meant to encourage delib-
eration in order to achieve consensus and avoid open conflict. Althusius in fact
describes this process as one of ‘dual consent’ formation,48 first in the colleges’
separate deliberations, and then in the final decision-​making process among them.
Yet he also notes that binding decisions can be made ‘either by unanimous con-
sent of all colleges, or by the larger part’.49 What seems to be a contradiction,
here, finds explanation in another passage where Althusius characterizes the pro-
cess of decision making within the colleges as one driven by ‘consultation, which
endures until all are of the same opinion or the minority bows to the majority’.50
As in the final round of deliberation among all three colleges, this will obviously
only happen, and make majority decisions acceptable, when there is no ‘outright
opposition’.
Thus far, Althusius has provided a description of the Imperial decision-​making
process of which it has been said that it is remarkably clear and comprehensive.51
Clearly, that process was driven by a search of agreement ‘in the shadow’ of major-
ity rule.52 Clearly also, the Empire was his prime example with which he meant
to illustrate (exemplis illustrata) what he intended to set out methodologically as
general principle (methodice digesta). But Althusius would not be Althusius had he
not thought about differentiating between consent requirement and majority rule
in more systematic fashion. This he did in his discussion of decision making at pro-
vincial assemblies. He added the chapter on provincial administration only in later
editions after the move to Emden where his task was not only not only to protect
Calvinist Emden from the absolutist aspirations of the Lutheran provincial ruler
but also defend the interests of its wealthy burghers against the other and impov-
erished provincial estates. Consent or majority rule was a vital question for the city
in that latter context. Majority decisions, Althusius therefore declares categorically,
shall apply only to matters ‘that concern all orders in the same way but not to
matters only concerning individual orders separately’.53 The question of consent
becomes the key question for the entire process of decision making in a multilevel
commonwealth. For Althusius, the consent requirement is meant to protect each
consociation in its particular rights of self-​determination. Only when there is agree-
ment that a matter is of common concern to all can decisions be made by majority

47  Politica XXXIII. 76 (n. 1) (indifferens, non apertè contraria).

48  Politica XXXIII. 70 (n. 1) (consensus… duplex).
49  Politica XXXIII. 19 (n. 1) (ex consensu unanimi omnium collegiorum, vel majoris partis).
50  Politica XXXIII. 71 (n. 1) (consultatione… donec vel omnes collegae inter se consentiant, vel major
pars, quibus numero pauciores cedunt).
51  F. H. Schubert, Die deutschen Reichstage in der frühen Neuzeit (1966), pp. 417–​18.
52  Hueglin, ‘Comparing Federalisms’, pp. 27–​47 (n. 31).
53  Politica VIII. 70 (n. 1) (quae simul universos ordines concernunt, non quae seorsim singulos).
 127

Althusius 127
rule. If that is the case, individual members of the commonwealth can be overruled
by the universal decision-​making process of the higher order. It is then the higher
order of government that is autonomized.
These considerations are of particular and obvious relevance for any interna-
tional or global order intent on pushing the non-​majoritarian boundaries of inter-
national law towards majoritarian rules of supranationality. At its core, the question
comes down to the problem of how to come to a common understanding about
what is of such universal interest that majority decisions become acceptable. A pos-
sible answer lies in the principle of subsidiarity, which avoids the rigid distinction
between particular and universal rights typical for modern federalism. Instead of
asking the classical federal question of who has the power to do what, subsidiarity
considerations aim at providing an answer to the question of who should have the
authority to do how much of what.54
In modern federal states, the distinction between particular and universal
rights is determined by a constitutional division of powers. Althusius did not
provide such a division of powers. Instead he provided what can be appreciated
as an early-​modern pre-​formulation of the principle of subsidiarity according
to which decisions should be taken at the lowest possible level of authority and
governance. As such, subsidiarity was an implicit part of the Protestant move
against church hierarchy. At the 1571 General Synod of the Dutch Reformed
Churches, held in exile in Emden, it had been resolved that ‘provincial or gen-
eral assemblies must not deliberate on matters already decided at a lower level’,
and that ‘they shall concern themselves only with such matters as pertaining
to all churches generally’.55 Just as implicitly, Althusius echoes this resolution
by limiting majority rule in principle to matters ‘that concern all orders in the
same way but not to matters only concerning individual orders separately’.56
The very purpose of his multilevel commonwealth construction was to ensure
that the ‘mutual communication of whatever is useful and necessary for the har-
monious exercise of social life’57 could take place at each level ‘according to the
nature of each consociation’.58 The consent requirement protects the particular
nature of each consociation. Considerations of subsidiarity facilitate agreement
on the extent to which autonomous self-​regulation of any given specific matter
is essential in order to protect the particular nature of each member in a larger
union, and on the extent to which regulation can be assigned to a realm of com-
mon generality. Majority rule at the level of such generality then allows moving
beyond mere confederalism and towards the establishment of common purpose
in a multilevel federal polity.

54 Thomas O. Hueglin and Alan Fenna, Comparative Federalism:  A  Systematic Inquiry (2015),
p. 160.
55  J.F. Gerhard Goeters (ed.), Die Akten der Synode der Niederländischen Kirchen zu Emden vom 4. –​
13. Oktober 1571 (1971), pp. 79–​83.
56  Politica VIII. 70 (n. 1) (quae simul universos ordines concernunt, non quae seorsim singulos).
57  Politica I. 2 (for the original text, see n. 37).
58  Politica I. 7 (n. 1) (qualibet consociatione pro natura ejusdem).
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128 Thomas O. Hueglin

IV.  Reception: Refuted, Condemned, Forgotten, Misread

With five editions during the first half of the seventeenth century, the Politica must
be considered a bestseller in its time, and surely so at least in Reformed circles. The
second edition of 1610 was published in the Netherlands at a time when some of
the English Puritans stayed there in exile before their departure to the New World
as Pilgrim Fathers. There is no evidence that a copy of the book sailed along on the
Mayflower but it is at least noteworthy that one of the first political documents
of the New World, the Articles of Confederation of the United Colonies of New
England, 1643, in its opening paragraph speaks of ‘a present Consociation amongst
ourselves, for mutual help and strength’ because ‘we can not according to our desire
with convenience communicate in one government and jurisdiction’.59
According to Otto von Gierke’s extensive investigation of primary sources, three
subsequent phases can be identified in the reception of Althusius’ political theory.
Initially, he had his supporters and opponents, with the postulation of the people’s
unalienable rights of sovereignty the main bone of contention. Academic refutation
turned to outright condemnation with the consolidation of the age of absolut-
ism after the conclusion of the Westphalian Peace Treaties. Althusius came to be
accused of being the worst of the Monarchomachs, his theory a ‘pestilential error
turning the world into turmoil,’ his book in general ‘poison for the youth’ and
‘worthy of being thrown into the flames’.60 Finally, however, he was simply forgot-
ten once political theory had turned to Locke’s advocacy of individual liberalism as
the foundation of representative government, and Rousseau’s idea of a general will
among individual citizens freed from all associational impositions as the foundation
of democracy. The modern understanding of popular sovereignty emerging from
these theories no longer had use for a seemingly outmoded conceptualization of the
people as a community of communities.
It was in the context of his research on guilds and fellowships that Otto von
Gierke ‘rediscovered’ Althusius towards the end of the nineteenth century. The
great professor of fellowship law not only declared that the most outstanding char-
acteristic of the Politica was its ‘spirit of federalism throughout’,61 but moreover
suggested that because of ‘remarkable similarities’ it was ‘highly probable’ that
Rousseau had read it and drawn from it.62 It is remarkable indeed that there is this
sentence in the Politica according to which what the people decide by common
consent cannot be changed ‘unless something else pleases the common will’.63 And
Rousseau did refer to Althusius explicitly once, albeit in an aside, as someone who

59  The Articles of Confederation of the United Colonies of New England are available online at
<http://​avalon.law.yale.edu/​17th_​century/​art1613.asp>.
60 Otto von Gierke, Johannes Althusius und die Entwicklung der naturrechtlichen Staatstheorien
([1880] 1958), pp. 4–​8.
61  von Gierke, Johannes Althusius, p. 226 (n. 60).
62  von Gierke, Johannes Althusius, p. 9 (n. 60). See further the contribution by Heller in this volume.
63  Politica, IX. 18 (n. 1) (nisi communi voluntate aliud placeat).
 129

Althusius 129
like himself had made enemies for the boldness of his thoughts.64 To stylize the
largely unknown Althusius into a German precursor of the great French Rousseau
at a time of mounting nationalism, however, probably was not a prudent move if
the goal was to rescue the author of the Politica from obscurity. Yet in the context
of Gierke’s careful and contextually erudite analysis of Althusius’ political theory,
the comparison has considerable merit: while the Contrat Social in its disdain for
‘associations partielles’65 logically points to the construction of a Jacobin state, the
Politica in its structured approach to organized social life retains the tradition and
promise of a federal polity.
After Gierke, Althusius no longer could be ignored so easily. Yet he mostly
remained relegated to scholarly footnotes pointing out his importance without
exactly explicating why. A few exceptions notwithstanding, which will be discussed
in the next and last section, the author of the Politica rarely has been taken seriously
in his own right, and nowhere less so than by that kind of critical social science
for which federalism smacks of the old feudalism that the French Revolution had
sought to overcome. To Franz Borkenau, for instance, writing his famous book
about the ideological transition from the feudal to the bourgeois world view in
French exile and with the rising tide of German fascism before his eyes, Althusius’
defense of particular autonomies could only mean support for the ‘democratic
Caesarism of the House of Orange’.66 At the time Borkenau obviously had little or
no knowledge of Althusius’ life and political contexts and therefore simply specu-
lated that ‘an absolutist provincial administration would hardly have allowed a pro-
fessor, whom it employed’, … to write anything that was opposed to its interests.67
Curiously, however, the Cambridge History of Political Thought more than half
a century later essentially still reiterates the same misinformed verdict, this time
on the basis of a rather selective reading of the text as ‘distinctly oligarchic’ and
‘doubtless to the satisfaction of the Dutch’.68 The verdict is based on a passage
where Althusius is quoted as saying that ‘the individual people of the realm by
themselves are the subjects and servants of their administrators’. This is only half of
what Althusius is saying, however. The full passage reads that with regard to their
ownership and delegation of the supreme right of realm, the members of the realm
are masters of their administrators who in turn are their servants; only with regard
to administration itself, outside or below the constitutional plane, as mandated
and approved by the people, the individual inhabitants of the realm are in turn the
subjects and servants of their ministers.69

64  Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, Lettres ecrites de la Montagne [1764], Sixieme Lettre, available online at
<http://​www.inlibroveritas.net/​oeuvres/​3146/​lettres-​ecrites-​de-​la-​montagne>.
65  Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, Du Contrat Social (1993), II. 3.
66  Franz Borkenau, Der Uebergang vom feudalen zum buergerlichen Weltbild (1934), p. 131.
67 Borkenau, Der Uebergang, pp. 123f. (n. 66).
68  Howell A. Lloyd, ‘Constitutionalism,’ in J.H. Burns (ed.), The Cambridge History of Political
Thought 1450-​1700 (1991), p. 292.
69  Politica XVIII. 14–​15 (n. 1) (Ratione consitutionis & juris supremi atque proprietatis, universi
subditi et regni membra sunt domini horum rectorum & ministrorum…rectores hi, sunt istorum famuli &
ministri. Extra constitutionem hanc & ratione administrationis demandatae, & a populo acceptatae, ipsi
regnicolae singuli, per se, sunt subditi & famuli suorum administratorum & rectorum).
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130 Thomas O. Hueglin

What stands in the way of an adequate interpretation and appreciation of

Althusian political thought are, first of all, 800 pages of early-​modern Latin writ-
ten in a dichotomizing style of logic following the Ramist method fashionable at
the time and also employed, if less pedantically, by Bodin.70 The overall sense of
this thought does not reveal itself easily and also cannot be captured by snippets
of text taken out of context. While this obviously holds true for other authors and
even those firmly belonging to the classical canon of political thought, an adequate
understanding of Althusius is further hampered by the fact that his insistence on
the maintenance of a plurally structured political order based on collective loyalties
and negotiated agreements does not easily fit into a classical canon that has been
constructed retroactively from the perspective of modern state and society. Even the
early Habermas, not yet swayed by his own theory of communicative action, only
had a few and dismissive comments on Althusius. In his account of the early-​mod-
ern transformation of that old plural order into a modern bourgeois world unfold-
ing under the regulatory and protective umbrella of centralized bureaucratic state
absolutism, he celebrated Hobbes as the rational beginning of ‘social philosophy as
science’. In Althusius, he only saw a trickster presenting as political system what he
thought did not go beyond the ‘schematization of accidental relationships’.71 With
the outcome of the epochal transformation, centralization and bureaucratization,
no longer in doubt, it is easy to dismiss the Althusian political system as accidental
or irrelevant. What Habermas failed to recognize, however, is that this political
system very much transcended the accidental relationships of the time and offered
an alternative vision and path into the future that at the time still was every step as
rational as the Hobbesian one. But history is written by victors and rational social
science is its handmaiden.

V.  Relevance in Ascendance?

Gierke’s assessment of Althusius’ Politica as imbued by a spirit of federalism was

entirely valid. The federalism Gierke had in mind, however, was not that of the
American federal state but that of the Bismarck federation, which had followed
in the footsteps of the Holy Roman Empire by retaining ‘long-​standing norms of
diplomatic Verhandlung (negotiation)’.72 To be sure, the Bismarck constitution had
taken from the American precedent a bicameral legislature with a parliamentary
lower chamber and a regional upper chamber. And in this upper chamber, the
Bundesrat, still composed of hereditary princes representing their territories, deci-
sions now could also be taken by weighted majority rule. But as in the Holy Roman
Empire before, and in the European Union thereafter, majority decisions, even

70  Kenneth D. McRae, ‘Ramist Tendencies in the Thought of Jean Bodin’, Journal of the History of
Ideas XVI (1955), 306–​23.
71  Jürgen Habermas, Theorie und Praxis (1972), pp. 67–​9.
72 Daniel Ziblatt, Structuring the State:  The Formation of Italy and Germany and the Puzzle of
Federalism (2006), p. 139.
 13

Althusius 131
though easily orchestrated by Prussian hegemonic might, were generally avoided.
Negotiations in the shadow of majority rule typically went on until agreement was
reached.73 Althusius did not schematize accidental relationships: indeed he elevated
the characteristics of those traditional European relationships to the timeless and
systematic level of a procedural theory of federalism.
As transmitted through Gierke’s book, Althusius influenced the associational
thought of British state pluralists from John Neville Figgis to Harold Laski,74
and he became a major inspiration for a young and impressionable Carl Joachim
Friedrich who published a—​slightly abridged—​new edition of the Politica for the
first time in 300 years. Friedrich went on to become one of his epoch’s most influ-
ential political scientists, and he was at hand as an adviser at the end of the Second
World War when the new West German republic drafted its first fully democratic
federal constitution under Allied supervision. Friedrich credited Althusius with
having formulated the first-​ever ‘full-​bodied concept of federalism’. More impor-
tantly, he probably took from the Politica the understanding that ‘federalism is a
process rather than a static pattern’.75 This procedural understanding not just of
federalism but of all political order became so paramount for him that when his
influential Man and his Government was translated into German, he had it titled as:
Politics as a Process of Community Building.76
Friedrich’s 1932 edition of the Politica spawned some renewed interest in
Althusius but the problem of accessibility remained until 1964 when Frederick S.
Carney published his—​likewise abridged—​English translation of the Latin text.77
Notwithstanding a few excerpts here and there, this was the first translation of
the Politica into a modern language. Carney’s thoughtful and generally perceptive
introduction further helped to introduce Althusius to a wider readership. Among
the new ‘Althusiasts’ was the doyen of American federalism studies at the time,
Daniel J. Elazar, who was particularly attracted by Althusius’ reference to the bib-
lical covenant as the foundation of structured human sociability and politics.78
Elazar never ceased to sing Althusius’ praise as the ‘real father of modern federal-
ism’.79 The praise, however, continued to fall on mostly deaf ears in a scholarly com-
munity of federalism specialists who almost invariably associate modern federalism
with the American model of a rights-​based constitutional federal state rather than
with the European tradition of procedural federalism.80
So what is the relevance of Althusius for international law and political order?
His place among the classics of political thought is no longer in question. Yet

73  Gerhard Lehmbruch, Parteienwettbewerb im Bundesstaat (2000), pp. 63–​4.

74  See Paul Q. Hirst (ed.), The Pluralist Theory of the State (1993).
75  Carl J. Friedrich, Trends of Federalism in Theory and Practice (1968), p. 12.
76  Carl J. Friedrich, Politik als Prozess der Gemeinschaftsbildung (1970).
77  Cf. (n. 1) reference.
78  Daniel J. Elazar, ‘Althusius’ Grand Design for a Federal Commonwealth’, in Politica, xxxv–​vii
(n. 1).
79  Daniel J. Elazar, ‘Federalism’, in D.L. Sills (ed.), International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences
(1968), p. 363.
80  See Hueglin, ‘Comparing Federalisms’ (n. 31).
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132 Thomas O. Hueglin

notwithstanding the sustained work by members of an international society in his

name,81 Althusius has remained at the margins of scholarly interest in federalism,
and federalism has hardly played a role in the search for a global order of peace and
stability. It is not difficult to see why. Althusian federalism squares poorly with the
idea and practice of the modern centralized federal state, and that modern central-
ized federal state hardly offers a promising model for what is for the most part still
considered to be a Westphalian global order of sovereign nation-​states. It is there-
fore not coincidental that Althusius’ name has cropped up in contexts pointing to
the emergence of a post-​Westphalian world:
In Canada, at a time when national sovereignty came under siege by Quebec sep-
aratism and aggressive forces of regional power assertion more generally, the politi-
cal scientist and Bodin expert Kenneth McRae, in his final address as the president
of the Canadian Political Science Association, asked his colleagues the provocative
question: ‘Have we, under the 400-​year-​old spell of national sovereignty, unwisely
neglected other sectors of Western thought…Should we devise an alternative cur-
riculum in political thought that would stress Althusius over Bodin… Gierke over
Hegel… ?’82 And in a speech to one of the largest gatherings of scholars and prac-
titioners of federalism ever assembled, the vice-​president of the European consti-
tutional convention and former Italian prime minister, Giuliano Amato, conjured
up the name of Althusius no less than four times as evidence that the—​ultimately
ill-​fated—​constitutional project would remain faithful to the European tradition of
federalism. ‘Organizations inspired by the thinking of [Althusius]’, he assured his
audience, ‘deny exclusivity as a matter of principle. No one in a pluralistic system is
the exclusive holder of public authority.’83
An international political order without the assignment of exclusive authority
is very much what Hedley Bull some forty years ago anticipated—​and ultimately
rejected for a post-​Westphalian age: an anarchical neo-​medieval world of overlap-
ping plural powers.84 Writing against the rising tide of exclusive state sovereignty
at the end of the Pre-​Westphalian age, Althusius wanted to preserve that medieval
plurality, by transforming its anarchical tendencies into a stable form of organized
con-​federal federalism. This federalism would have two main characteristics dis-
tinct from the two-​tiered modern federal state model. First, it would be a multilevel
federal system with the same rules of representation and decision-​making at all
levels of governance. Second, subsidiarity considerations would guide the process
of power sharing in its application of majority rule or unanimous agreement. In
this way, the autonomy of smaller communities could be preserved without ignor-
ing the rising importance of larger communities, of states, or even of a universal
commonwealth.

81  International Althusius Society, see <http://​www.althusius.de/​althusiuse.htm>.

82  Kenneth D. McRae, ‘The Plural Society and the Western Political Tradition’, Canadian Journal
of Political Science XII(4) (1979), 685–​6.
83  Giuliano Amato, ‘Plenary Speech’, in Raoul Blindenbacher and Arnold Koller (eds.), Federalism
in a Changing World: Learning From Each Other (2002), p. 579.
84  Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics ([1977] 2012).
 13

Althusius 133

Selected Bibliography
Carney, Frederick S., ‘Translator’s Introduction’, in Frederick S. Carney (ed.), Johannes
Althusius, Politica (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, [1964] 1995), pp. ix–​xxxiii.
Elazar, Daniel J., ‘Althusius and Federalism as Grand Design’, in Giuseppe Duso, Werner
Krawietz, and Dieter Wyduckel (eds.), Konsens und Konsoziation in der politischen Theorie
der fruehen Neuzeit, Beiheft 16 of Rechtstheorie (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1997), pp.
209–​18.
Friedrich, Carl J., ‘Introduction’, in Carl J. Friedrich (ed.), Politica Methodice Digesta of
Johannes Althusius (Harvard: Harvard University Press, 1932), pp. xv–​xcix.
Hueglin, Thomas O., Early Modern Concepts for a Late Modern World:  Althusius on
Community and Federalism (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1999).
Koch, Bettina, ‘Johannes Althusius: Between Secular Federalism and the Religious State’, in
Ann Ward and Lee Ward (eds.), The Ashgate Research Companion to Federalism, (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 2009), pp. 75–​90.
Wyduckel, Dieter, ‘Einleitung’, in Johannes Althusius, Politik (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot,
2003), pp. vii–​lxvii.
134

7
Hugo Grotius: On the Conquest of Utopia
by Systematic Reasoning
Stefan Kadelbach

I. Introduction

In the introduction to this book, we subscribed to a moderate anachronism, meant as

a term to mark an intermediate position between a contextual perspective on the one
hand, and mere interpretive abstraction on the other.1 Methodically contestable as it
is, the position is the more difficult to hold with respect to Hugo Grotius, given the
enormous number of original texts, revisions, new editions, translations, commen-
taries, interpretations, lines of reception, expositions of ‘Grotian’ traditions and their
refutation, as well as discourse on the way everyone reads Grotius, and on those who
read those who have read Grotius. A strictly historical stance probably leads to a selec-
tive grouping of what is to constitute context; the other extreme is obviously open for
inappropriate retrospective projections.2 A similar dilemma occurs with respect to the
problem as to how to approach the texts. The attempt at a fresh look would be both
naïve and impossible, given the vast amount of literature, but merely to historicize
some four hundred years of exegesis would be bound (to borrow from an exhortation
by Ernst Gombrich) to miss a museum’s paintings while checking the catalogue.3 The
present contribution does not try to detach the reconstruction of the basic elements
of Grotian thinking from existing interpretations (below, Section II). However, since
some of what is called ‘Grotian’ is not much more than a standard taxonomy of the
history of ideas, the ensuing sections will deal with adaptations of Grotius’ philoso-
phy in natural law thinking (Section III) and internationalist reception (Section IV),
respectively, in order to assess how much of Grotianism came about in later epochs.
As for Grotius himself, to stick to pictures, catalogues abound and all of them
begin with a description of a portrait, the tale of his life.4 Due to his connections

1  On the two approaches, see Quentin Skinner, ‘Meaning and Understanding in the History of
Ideas’, Hist & Theory 8 (1969), 3–​53.
2  Cf. Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Vitoria and Us’, Rechtsgeschichte 22 (2015), 1–​20.
3  Ernst Gombrich, The Story of Art (16th edn, 1995), p. 37.
4  For a recent biography, see Henk Nellen, Hugo Grotius: A Lifelong Struggle for Peace in Church and
State, 1583-​1645 (2015).

Hugo Grotius – on the conquest of Utopia by Systematic Reasoning. Stefan Kadelbach. © Stefan Kadelbach,
2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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Hugo Grotius 135

with varying political elites, Grotian philosophy of law depends perhaps more than
others on the political and economic environment of birthplace, family, and educa-
tion. The biography has it all: efforts to emancipate the Netherlands from Spanish
rule and the search for support abroad; rising wealth and expansionism overseas,
paradoxically unaffected by civil war and inner disintegration; and an endless fight
without rules, with mixed alliances across religious adherence before and during the
Thirty Years’ War.5
The Grotius story tells us of a gifted offspring of the Delft political elite who
went through a humanist studium generale at the university of Leiden as a child.
At the age of fifteen, he was a political adviser to the chairman of the States of
Holland, Land’s Advocate Johan Oldenbarnevelt, and a member of his delegation
to the French court to remind Henry IV, Catholic at the time, of an old promise of
alliance (‘voici le miracle d’Hollande’). Subsequently, at the age of sixteen, he began
to practise as a solicitor, with time to write poetry and with temporary remunera-
tion as an official historiographer. Ambitions towards a political career took shape
with positions as a fiscal advocate in the province of Holland (1607) and as a legal
adviser of the city of Rotterdam (1613). However, as a member of the patrician
faction he also shared its misfortune. In the inner-​confessional struggle with ortho-
dox Calvinists, Oldenbarnevelt and Grotius adhered to the Arminian (or remon-
strant) party, which opted for confessional tolerance, decentral rule, and a course
of compromise vis-​à-​vis Spain. In a coup of the opponent camp, Prince Maurits,
the stadhouder and commander-​in-​chief of five of the seven provinces, sided with
the more popular counter-​remonstrant party. In 1618, Oldenbarnevelt was sen-
tenced to death, Grotius was condemned to lifetime imprisonment, and his goods
were seized. His wife arranged an escape with a daring plot, so that Grotius could
emigrate to Paris, where he lived from 1621 to 1631. He subsequently worked as a
(poorly talented) diplomat in Swedish services from 1635 to 1645, an attempt to
return home having failed. After a passage from Sweden ended in a shipwreck, the
philosopher of the freedom of the seas died of exhaustion in Rostock in 1645, at
the age of sixty two.
Contemporary commentators stressed Grotius’ merits in history, theology, and
private law.6 The significance of Grotius’ work on these fields for the better-​known
treatises is only slowly being rediscovered. A historic booklet about the origins of
the States of Holland (1610), a legal pamphlet intended to prove the sovereignty
of the Dutch provinces by its descent from Antiquity, already contains the idea of
rights and of public authority as their guardian.7 Grotius’ theological notions are
of interest for his concept of natural law. Ideas of Christian unification unfold, for

5  Jan de Vries and Ad van der Woude, The First Modern Economy: Success, Failure, and Perseverance
of the Dutch Economy, 1500-​1815 (1997); Jonathan Israel, The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness, and
Fall, 1477-​1806 (1995), pp. 233–​505.
6  Cf. Hasso Hofmann, ‘Hugo Grotius’, in Michael Stolleis (ed.), Staatsdenker in der frühen Neuzeit
(1994), pp. 52–​77, at p. 53.
7  Liber de antiquitate reipublicae Batavicae, ed. and trans. Jan Waszink et al. (2000), chs. I and VI;
for the ‘Batavian myth’, see Gustaaf van Nifterik, ‘Hugo Grotius, Privileges, Fundamental Laws and
Rights’, Grotiana 32 (2011), 1–​19, at 4–​7.
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136 Stefan Kadelbach

instance, in Meletius (1611), where Grotius displays a preference for consent over
dogma and condenses theology into a more abstract form of inter-​confessional
morality.8 Seeking for proven agreement thus is a general philosophical disposi-
tion to favour established common ground over purity of thought, which is also
characteristic of the legal writings. The combination of natural law with systematic
legal studies appears, apart from the treatises on the law of nations, in Grotius’
introduction to Dutch law, which sets out different categories of rights, many of
which are found in De jure belli ac pacis.9 All of this, a historical method of proof,
reductionist ethics, and civil-​law structuring of the subject-​matter, are typical pat-
terns of Grotius’ writings on the law of nations.

II.  Texts, Intentions, Method

Grotius’ theory on the law of nations spreads over several of his more than 100
books and treatises, many of which are unpublished.10 However, it essentially
unfolds in two works, both of which have their own history of reception, De jure
praedae (hereafter JP in this chapter) and De jure belli ac pacis (hereafter JBP in this
chapter).

1. De jure praedae and Mare liberum

The famous manifesto of the freedom of the seas, Mare liberum, was originally
part of a counsel’s opinion, its predecessor De jure praedae, written in Grotius’
years as a private lawyer.11 On 25 February 1603, Admiral van Heemskerck, a
cousin of Grotius’,12 had seized the Portuguese vessel Santa Caterina in the
Straits of Singapore on its return from Japan and Macao.13 Heemskerck and

8  Meletius sive de iis quae inter Christianos conveniunt epistola, ed. and trans. Guillaume Posthumus
Meyjes (1988); cf. Henk Nellen, ‘Disputando Inclarescet Veritas: Grotius as a Publicist in France
(1621-​1645)’, in Henk Nellen and Edwin Rabbie (eds.), Hugo Grotius Theologian (1994), pp. 121–​44.
9  Inleidinge tot de Hollandsche rechts-​geleertheyd, written in captivity and published 1631; see
Robert Feenstra, ‘Grotius et le droit privé européen’, RdC 182 (1983), 453–​69; Franz Wieacker,
Privatrechtsgeschichte der Neuzeit (1967), pp. 287–​301.
10  Of interest for the genesis of Grotius’ concept of law is a chapter from Parallelon rerum publi-
carum, on thought and morals in Antiquity and the Netherlands, probably written in 1602; Wolfgang
Fikentscher (ed.), De fide et perfidia (1979), pp. 89–​145; Hans Blom, ‘The Meaning of Trust: Fides
Between Self-​Interest and Appetitus Societatis’, in Pierre-​Marie Dupuy and Vincent Chetail (eds.), The
Roots of International Law (2014), pp. 39–​58.
11  De iure praedae commentarius, written in 1604 and 1605, was rediscovered as a whole only in
1864. Grotius had entitled it, alluding to Vitoria, as De rerum Indicorum. The name it has today stems
from the ed. H.G. Hamaker (1868); citations here are to ed. and trans. Gwladys L. Williams and
Walter H. Zeydel (1950), by chapter and page; cf. also recent ed. by Martine Julia van Ittersum (2006).
12  Richard Tuck, The Rights of War and Peace (1999), p. 79, with reference.
13  Robert Fruin, An Unpublished Work of Hugo Grotius’s, trans. F. Hopman (1925), pp. 8–​40; Peter
Borschberg, ‘Hugo Grotius’ Theory of Trans-​Oceanic Trade Regulation:  Revisiting Mare Liberum
(1609)’, Itinerario 29, 3 (2005), 31–​53; Martine Julia van Ittersum, Profit and Principle: Hugo Grotius,
Natural Rights Theories and the Rise of Dutch Power in the East Indies, 1595-​1615 (2006), pp. 1–​52.
 137

Hugo Grotius 137

the Portuguese competed for trade with the Sultan of Johor, who had decided to
enter into direct commercial relations with the Dutch. The capture of the ship
answered a blockade inflicted by the Portuguese on the Sultan to enforce older
claims. After the Amsterdam Admiralty Court had ruled that Heemskerck’s action
was within his powers and the unusually valuable prize could be retained, the United
East India Company (Verenigte Oostindische Compagnie, VOC), the successor of
the regional company for which Heemskerck had sailed, entrusted Grotius with the
mandate to pronounce a statement on the lawfulness under the law of nations.14
The structure along the lines of which the argument runs anticipates much of
JBP. The initial chapters offer an exposition of rules and laws of just war (dogmatica)
in scholastic style, a language a Portuguese counterpart would understand. But
different from scholastic opinion, the virtue of ‘justice’, in the sense of not being
unjust, here not only meant to avoid harm to others; it is an obligation to guard
one’s own interest (JP I, pp. 2–​3). After a narrative of the conflict with Spain and of
Portuguese conduct in the East Indies (historica), the remaining sections vindicate
the prize (chs. XI to XV). In chapter XII on the right of private companies (like
VOC) to wage war, Grotius on its face follows an argument Vitoria had developed
in De Indis, where he had derived a right of peoples to visit and to entertain com-
merce with others (JP XII, p. 218). As a corollary, no title over the high seas could
lie, as it had been derived by Portugal and Spain from the papal award of 1493, for
the pope did not hold secular authority (JP XII, p. 223). Since subjective rights
were conferred upon man by God (JP II, p. 9), liberty was characteristic of human
beings in the state of nature and self-​preservation, a natural means to secure exist-
ence.15 The faculty to pursue self-​interest is a consequence of man’s natural power
over himself. In the given context, it encompassed the right to send ships and to
engage in trade with other nations, the more so since all society benefited from it.
Interference by others, as by Portugal in this case, was an act of piracy and could
be responded to accordingly. Usually, punishment of the wrongdoer was with the
ruler, but since there was no property in the high seas (JP XII, p. 231), there was
no public authority with which punishment could interfere.16 Justification of puni-
tive private wars was something new in the history of just-​war treatises. However,
having declared the oceans a good common to all, Grotius had made sure that the
enforcement of trading interests also served the entire community of mankind.17
The crucial chapter XII appeared separately under the title Mare liberum on
request by the VOC, which hoped that it would help to guard their stakes in the

14  It is suggested that VOC was established with the capital gained from proceeds of the prize; see
Tuck, Rights, p. 79 (n. 12).
15  Grotius was influenced here (as in many ways) by Fernando Vázquez de Menchaca (‘the pride of
Spain’, JP XII, p. 249), adviser to Philipp II. See Kurt Seelmann, Die Lehre des Fernando Vazquez de
Menchaca vom Dominium (1979), pp. 106–​31; Peter Borschberg, Commentarius in Theses XI (1994),
pp. 73–​101; Annabel Brett, Liberty, Right and Nature: Individual Rights in Later Scholastic Thought
(1997), pp. 165–​204.
16  In addition to the right to reparation for injury, assistance to the Malayan allies justified war (JP
XIII, pp. 314–​6).
17  Annabel Brett, Changes of State (2011), p. 105.
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138 Stefan Kadelbach

course of truce negotiations with Spain.18 Since the justification of privateering

aimed at the heart of colonial trade, it was set to prompt reactions in Spain and
England.19 During the two colonial conferences in 1613 and 1615, Grotius had to
realize that his English counterparts turned the argument against him in that they
claimed freedom of commerce with the East Indies and rejected Dutch insistence
on older rights. Now, for Grotius, the pacta sunt servanda principle was the ground
to defend the Dutch position, which included contractual rights acquired from
local rulers, and the principle could, along the lines of JP, be defended by force. The
response by John Selden, later published under the title Mare clausum as a quasi-​
official statement of the English king,20 sets out a different idea of the acquisition
of property in the state of nature. Grotius had held that land and sea were initially
owned by no one (res nullius, JP XII, p. 227); whereas land could be divided and
taken in possession as dominium, the seas remained free of title and jurisdiction (JP
XII, p. 231) and could be used by everyone for travel and trade. Grotius’ right of
communication has therefore been interpreted as a return to the ‘lost world’ of the
state of nature.21 Selden, by contrast, described land and sea as being in an English-​
type common property (res communis) from the beginning, so that it required a
convention to own them—​by the force of which England ruled all neighbouring
waves including the Atlantic.
JP and Mare liberum already contain most of what comes up again in much
greater detail in JBP, and can be read, as it has been done, in diametrically opposite
ways. The traditional line used to consider JP as a defence of the freedom of the seas
against imperial claims of Spanish hegemony.22 A different reading takes it as the
justification of a rigid protection of commercial interest and imperial expansion-
ism,23 some even of bellicism and a generally hostile stance against non-​European
peoples.24 The latter point may be an overstatement, since Grotius had stressed
prominently the importance to protect allies irrespectively of faith (JP XII, p. 315).
But indeed, the notion that native people could sell away their rights, the concept
of shared sovereignty as well as the strictly binding force of promises and the right
to enforce them in war suited commercial and colonial interests. That the shift in
emphasis changed over time from the freedom of trade and navigation to the pacta
sunt servanda principle does not make it look any better. The fact that Grotius

18  Mare liberum  –​Sive de iure quod Batavis competit ad Indicana commercia dissertatio, recently
published as Robert Feenstra (ed.), Hugo Grotius Mare liberum 1609–​2009 (2009), based on the first
anonymous publication of 1609; the second edn 1618 appeared under Grotius’ name.
19  Mónica Brito Vieira, ‘Mare Liberum vs. Mare Clausum: Grotius, Freitas, and Selden’s Debate on
Dominion over the Seas’, J Hist Id 64 (2003), 361–​77.
20  The first version was written in 1616–​1617; published as Mare Clausum, Seu De Dominio Maris
(1635), trans. Marchamont Nedham (1652); see Tuck, Rights, pp. 116–​20 (n. 12).
21 Brett, Changes, p. 199 (n. 17).
22  For a contemporary view, see Benjamin Schmidt, Innocence Abroad: The Dutch Imagination and
the New World, 1570-​1670 (2001), pp. 181–​2.
23  Edward Keene, Beyond the Anarchical Society: Grotius, Colonialism and Order in World Politics
(2002), pp. 50–​9; van Ittersum, Profit and Principle, pp. 108–​13, 167–​86 (n. 13); Erik Thomson, ‘The
Dutch Miracle Modified’, Grotiana 30 (2009), 107–​30.
24 Tuck, Rights, pp. 78–​108 (n. 12).
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Hugo Grotius 139

distanced himself later (JBP II 3, 8) does not in itself have to mean a change of
mind. Grotius in the 1620s still hoped to return to his home country, the com-
mercial power of which had consolidated in the meantime. Freedom is good for
newcomers, whereas established powers seek cartel and monopoly.25 Thus, JP offers
material to deconstruct Grotian idealism and to render it a myth.

2. De jure belli ac pacis

Even though JP has attracted considerably more attention in recent years, JBP is the
main opus on which Grotius’ reputation rests as one of the central figures in the history
of natural law, international law, and international relations. Much in it is indebted to
JP, and the question arises how far it can be perceived as being independent from its
reasonably partisan predecessor.26 For Grotius, the situation had changed dramatically
since JP was written. JBP is not the product of an admired mind in proximity to power,
but of one of captivity, exile, and limited financial resources. Former affiliations were
not cut off, but loose at best. The dedication is to Louis XIII, who once had backed up
Grotius’ faction in the inner-​Dutch conflict and then had supported him by paying a
modest, albeit irregular, pension during Grotius’ years in Paris. Thus, JBP is the prod-
uct of a subsidized scholar who addresses the European world of states.
Its difficult reading has been a challenge ever since.27 The structure roughly fol-
lows the dogmatica of JP, but as a whole changes from a rather predetermined expo-
sition for specific purposes to the style of systematic private law science. After a
general explanation of the concept of law (a.), it deals with all sorts of reasons to
resort to war (b.). Book III is devoted to conduct of warfare (c.).

a) The concept of law
The Prolegomena start by lamenting that, as opposed to civil law, no one had dealt
with the law among states28 ‘in a systematic and comprehensive manner’ (Pr. 1:
universim ac certo ordine),29 although nothing less than the ‘welfare’ of mankind

25  Cf. van Ittersum, Profit and Principle, pp. 371–​412 (n. 13); Andrea Weindl, ‘Grotius’ Mare
Liberum in the Political Practice of Early-​Modern Europe’, Grotiana 30 (2009), 131–​51, at 142f.;
Martti Koskenniemi, ‘International Law and the Emergence of Mercantile Capitalism: Grotius to
Smith’, in Roots of International Law, pp. 3–​37, at p. 22 (n. 10).
26  For continuity and changes in just war doctrine, see Peter Haggenmacher, Grotius et la doctrine
de la guerre juste (1983), pp. 588–​91; in political theory Richard Tuck, Philosophy and Government
1572-​1651 (1993), pp. 196–​201.
27  The most common English edition of JBP comprises some 900 pages with about a million words,
De Jure Belli ac Pacis Libri Tres (1646), trans. Francis W. Kelsey (1925). Citations here are from this
edition (former editions were published in 1625, 1631, 1632, and 1642). There have been 117 editions
in twelve languages until today, with twelve in French and thirteen in English alone; see Hofmann,
Grotius, pp. 60–​1 (n. 6). The recent English edition, with an introduction by Richard Tuck (2005), is
a reprint of the 1738 translation by Barbeyrac.
28  The term ‘state’ is used here in the sense of a political and legal entity distinct from its people and
with an authority to act on its behalf, i.e. a commonwealth in Grotian terminology (societas civilis or
civitas).
29  This verdict included Vitoria, see Pr. 37.
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140 Stefan Kadelbach

so demanded. By setting out such a system, Grotius writes, he wanted to contrib-

ute to the ‘philosophy of law’ (jurisprudentia, Pr. 30). As a definition, the law of
nations (jus gentium) is distinguished from jus civile (municipal law). This term
‘strictly speaking’ (JBP II 8, 1.2) is reserved to the law between nations, so that it
does not have the dual meaning of jus gentium contended by Vitoria and mentioned
by Suarez, who also used it for a common law that is valid for all human beings.30
The first step is to prove that such law exists at all. Grotius illustrates the opinion
that states among themselves were in an anarchical state of nature without rules
with a citation taken from Thucydides, which represents the position that history
advocated for the law of the fittest. Whether this addressed contemporary philo-
sophical scepticism or referred back to a remark by Richelieu to Grotius is hard
to verify.31 Grotius replies along the lines of a stoicist refutation of utility as the
governing principle: man had not only an interest in self-​preservation, but also an
impelling desire for society (appetitus societatis), what stoics called oikeiosis (Pr. 6),
and for social order (societatis custodia), ‘peaceful and organized according to his
[…] intelligence, with those who are of his own kind’ (Pr. 8). The sociable nature
of man is the source of law, and to its sphere belong the abstaining from the goods
of others, the obligation to fulfil promises, reparation for loss, and punishment of
those who violate the law. These principles constitute most of the essence of the
law of nature. Hobbes’ political philosophy can be read as a commentary of this.32
The question where natural law comes from is addressed in a well-​known passage
which states that the law of nature would be binding ‘even if we should concede
[…] that there is no God’ (etiamsi daremus […] non esse Deum) (Pr. 11). Not even
God can change it (I 1, 10.5).33 Rationalist schools read the phrase as an expres-
sion of distance to law based on the will of God and hence as the emancipation of
natural law from theology.34 The context of the passage, however, does not warrant
unequivocal conclusions.35 It seems more plausible that Grotius refers to an old
debate in which the impious hypothesis was used as an argument against Ockham’s
voluntarism.36 Accordingly, what is right directly relates to God’s will, whereas

30  Cf. Brett, Changes, pp. 13–​14 (n. 17). For Suarez (in this context LDL II 19, 8) see below n. 80.
31  The relation to contemporary scepticism forms part of the argument made by Richard Tuck,
‘Grotius, Carneades and Hobbes’, Grotiana 4 (1983), 43–​62; but see Petter Korkman, ‘Barbeyrac
on Scepticism and on Grotian Modernity’, Grotiana 20/​21 (1999/​2000), 77–​106; on Grotius and
Richelieu, see Cornelis G. Roelofsen, ‘Grotius and the State Practice of his Day’, Grotiana 18 (1997),
97–​120, at 116–​19.
32  See III. below.
33  Why JBP was placed on the index, as JP had been before, is not entirely clear; J. St. Leger, The
‘Etiamsi Daremus’ of Hugo Grotius (1962), p. 22, reports an opinion that JBP II 29, 50 was one reason,
where it is held that wars against those who err in faith are not justified for that reason alone.
34  Cf. A.P. d’Entrèves, Natural Law: An Introduction to Legal Philosophy (1970), pp. 50–5; Charles
Edwards, The Miracle of Holland (1981), pp. 9–​25.
35  The background could have been the inner-​Calvinist controversy, see St. Leger, Etiamsi Daremus,
pp. 141–​2 (n. 33); Tadashi Tanaka, ‘Grotius’ Method: With Special Reference to Prolegomena’, Yasuaki
Onuma (ed.), A Normative Approach to War (1993), pp. 11–​31, at pp. 27–​9.
36  It is found in Gregory of Rimini, cited (but rejected) by Suárez and used by Vázquez de Menchaca,
see St. Leger, Etiamsi Daremus, pp. 96–​147 (n. 33); Edwards, Miracle, pp. 48–​69 (n. 34); Leonard
Besselink, ‘The Impious Hypothesis Revisited’, Grotiana 9 (1988), 3–​63; Knud Haakonssen, Natural
Law and Moral Philosophy: From Grotius to Scottish Enlightenment (1996), p. 29.
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Hugo Grotius 141

intellectualism builds on human reason as a component of man’s natural ability
to recognize what is just. Grotius would then have taken a third way in deriving
natural law from both sources. Since God’s inexistence is not a possible assumption
to make (Pr. 11), both ‘the free will of God’ (Pr. 12) and human sociability and rea-
son, which equally flow from divine will (Pr. 7 and 8), constitute natural law. This
position would also be in keeping with protestant ethics. Accordingly, the true will
of God is inaccessible as long as it is not revealed, but indications of it can be found
by reason; law can be both secular and in harmony with belief.37 Thus, even though
the secularization thesis proves difficult to hold, Grotius still marks a change in
paradigm.38 The passage is also a clarification of the reasoning for the law of nature
in comparison to JP, which had begun with a statement of divine will and common
consent as the sources of natural law (rules I and II, JP II, pp. 8 and 12), without,
however, relating them to each other.39
Natural human sociability brings about common accord (Pr. 17). Within the
commonwealth, public authority builds on a contract (II 14)40 by which people
choose to whom they entrust power (II 5, 17) and thus their political system.41 If
not subject to another human will, such authority is supreme (imperium, summum
imperium, or summa potestas civilis).42 By the same act, such contracts establish
states (civitates) as ‘complete associations’ (consociationes, I 1, 14.1; II 5, 17), which
are bodies external to the peoples themselves (corpora artificialia, II 9, 3.1) and
capable of entering into legal relations.43 Man’s natural consciousness of the need to
conclude contracts also applies to society beyond boundaries (Pr. 17), the realm of
jus gentium. JBP restates the notion, already developed in JP, that subjects of jus gen-
tium are states, rulers, and private persons alike. They form the society of mankind
(magna civitas universitatis, Pr. 17, or societas humana). From the fusion of natural
sociability with a contract as a legal source it follows that jus gentium consists of
both natural law and human volitional law (I 1, 14.1). As far as it is volitional law
alone, it has a purely external effect (in foro externo) if it does not coincide with
genuine justice (Pr. 41).

37  Cf. Sergio Dellavalle, Dalla comunità particolare all’ordine universale (2011), vol I, pp. 162–​6;
John Haskell, ‘Hugo Grotius in the Contemporary Memory of International Law’, Emory IL Rev 25
(2011), 269–​98, at 277–​9.
38  Franco Todescan, Le radici teologiche del giusnaturalismo laico (1983), pp. 99–​111.
39  The departure from JP in that point is overstated by Giovanni Ambrosetti, I presupposti telogici
e speculativi delle concezioni giuridiche di Grozio (1955), pp. 93–​127; see Haggenmacher, Guerre juste,
pp. 496–​504 (n. 26).
40  D.F. Schelten, ‘Grotius’ Doctrine of the Social Contract’, Neth IL Rev 30 (1983), 43–​60; Michael
P. Zuckert, Natural Rights and the New Republicanism (1994), pp. 123–​6; Annabel Brett, ‘Natural
Right and Civil Community: The Civil Philosophy of Hugo Grotius’, Hist J 45 (2002), 31–​51; Frank
Grunert, ‘Der Vertrag als rechtliches Medium sozialer Gestaltung: Zum Kontraktualismus bei Hugo
Grotius’, in Norbert Konegen and Peter Nitschke (eds.), Staat bei Hugo Grotius (2005), pp. 125–​37.
41  That this is not the only way to constitute authority, but also that conquest is a possible basis (JBP
I 3, 8.6), shows that Grotius’ interest is in the mere fact of sovereignty, not the character of rule; for an
exposition in a former work of Grotius’, see Borschberg, Commentarius (n. 15).
42  The three terms are used synonymously, cf. I 3, 6, and 7.
43  Tadashi Tanaka, ‘State and Power’, in Normative Approach, pp. 122–​46 (n. 35).
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142 Stefan Kadelbach

The question arises as to how the different layers of law relate to each other.
Grotius is not explicit in that respect. The answer depends on the secularization
dispute reflected in the impious hypothesis conundrum (Pr. 11). If we follow the
secularization thesis, natural law is the highest;44 if not, divine volitional law is
superior (cf. I 1, 10.1). At any rate, the latter is binding only for those to whom it
is revealed, be they Jews or Christians, unless it has become ‘adequately known’ to
all men (I 1, 15); it rarely lends itself to enforcement. Natural law then is the next
source in rank. It is complete law in that it is both internally and externally binding,
and it is universal since its existence would not depend on God. However, it is con-
fined to some basic principles, hence less concrete and leaves space for change, so
that it is supplemented by human volitional law. Human volitional law can be of an
equally universal character, since pacts may be concluded between all nations (I 1,
14.1). More often, however, consent is implicit. The last layers are the norms of
morality, for which different terms are employed (II 1, 11: caritas; III 13, 4.3: regu-
lae humanitatis etc.); the overarching concept is interna justitia, which also empow-
ers man to recognize natural law. It is, however, broader than law and distinguished
from it. From the defence of law against utility it followed that all natural law
coincides with morals (Pr. 5-​27). But since human law is not necessarily congruent
with it, morality serves a supplementary function where natural law is permissive.
Both are distinct in their consequences. Although promise and legal obligations do
not depend on sanctions (Pr. 20), only law may be enforced by coercive means (Pr.
25; II 22, 16).
In book I, Grotius proceeds to prepare his system of subjective rights by fur-
ther elaborating on the notion of law. He discerns three different concepts of jus,
which are set out in three steps. The first is justice, ‘what is just’ in the sense that it
is not ‘in conflict with the nature of society of beings endowed with reason’ (I 1,
3.1). The second meaning is a moral quality innate to all humans. By virtue of this
quality, man has rights to have and to do ‘what is just’. This law is present in two
variants: perfect rights, which Grotius calls facultas, and imperfect rights, called
aptitudo. The distinction is based on the Aristotelian twin concept of attributive
(according to Grotius: expletive) and distributive (allocative) justice, but Grotius
gives a new meaning to it. Only the former type is hard law and enforceable (I 1, 5).
It comprises powers (potestas), as over oneself (libertas) and over others, ownership
(dominium), and contractual rights (creditum). Aptitudo, by contrast, is a matter
of mercy and charity, lastly administered by the state or the Church, so that there
is no enforceable claim to it (I 1, 7). This transformation of facultas into right in a
legal sense is one of the core concepts of JBP.45 The third meaning of jus equates jus
with lex, which denotes anything that is binding law in a community (I 1, 9), be it
natural or volitional, which includes jus gentium.

44 Tadashi Tanaka, ‘Grotius’ Concept of Law’, in Normative Approach, pp.  32–​56, at pp.  51–​4
(n. 35).
45  Cf. Brett, Changes, p. 105 (n. 17).
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Hugo Grotius 143

The consequences of the relationship between natural law and human volitional
law are difficult to spot and have been a constant source of critique. In that respect,
the famous treatment of slavery (I 1, 5; I 3, 8.1) is an example, which according to
Grotius can be subject to contract and permission (III 7, 1). It does not help much
to demand that volitional law be ‘just’;46 the question is what the consequences are
if it is not. Natural law, as far as it does not command behaviour, is dispositive in the
sense that it leaves room for permissible conduct. Volitional law is there to indicate
consent and to clarify what the law is. If such law commands or allows what natural
law permits, the former prevails. The reverse case that volitional law contradicts
natural law is less clearly stated. There are various categories of exceptions, to which
permission of cruelties in the course of war belong (see c. below). A related conflict
between natural law and volitional law is behind the problem of resistance which
natural law does not permit. If a people can decide to subject itself even to slavery,
this holds the more true for transfer of government to an absolute ruler (JBP I 3, 8),
and all these contracts are, as a rule, binding (I 4),47 unless under extreme condi-
tions of necessity (I 4, 7.2-​4; II 14, 12.2).48 Only humanitarian intervention can
promise relief, when the intervener guards the rights of the oppressed on behalf of
human society (II 25, 8.2 and 3; III 20, 40). The solution to the problem of resist-
ance then is caution in constitution-​making, as can be seen in many states (cf. I 3,
8.14): if the authority can be as a whole transferred to the ruler, this must also be
true of parts of it, so that the right to resistance may be retained in the contract (I
4, 14). Obviously, the prohibition of rebellion under natural law does not prevent
derogating from it by consent.

b) System of rights and just war

The second book is on just war. It deals systematically with subjective rights (law in
the second meaning of jus), as far as they are binding law (jus in its third meaning),
so that they can be enforced.49 Their violation is unjust (jus in the first meaning),
so that it justifies defence, seeking recovery, and punishment, each of which is a just
cause (II 1, 2). War is the transformation of a legal affair: where peaceful means of

46  Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann, ‘State of Nature versus Commercial Sociability
as the Basis of International Law’, in Samantha Besson and John Tasioulas (eds.), The Philosophy of
International Law (2010), pp. 33–​51, at pp. 42–​3.
47 Thus, Grotius combines constitutional rule and the option for absolutism; see Deborah
Baumgold, Contract Theory in Historical Context (2010), pp. 35–​6, 78. It is not surprising that Rousseau
found Grotius’ theory was favourable to tyrants, but not to individuals; see Du contrat social (1762),
ed. Bernard Gagnebin et al. (1964), liv. I 2, pp. 352–​3. Suárez’ De Legibus, which justified tyrannicide
under certain circumstances, had been burnt publicly in Paris, the place of Grotius’ exile; see St. Leger,
Etiamsi Daremus, pp. 106–​8 (n. 33). After all, whereas Grotius had left the choice of the political sys-
tem to the contracting people, Hobbes will later explain that the only option is absolutism, Baumgold,
Contract Theory, pp. 90–​1 (n. 47).
48  JBP I 14, 12.2 mentions that ‘there can be laws that are plainly foolish and ridiculous’. The pas-
sage is related to resistance; but see Peter Pavel Remec, The Position of the Individual in International
Law according to Grotius and Vattel (1960), pp. 79–​80, 89, 96–​7.
49  For Haggenmacher, Guerre juste, pp. 549–​52, 615 (n. 26), the genuine achievement of JBP is its
system of justitia belli.
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144 Stefan Kadelbach

law end, war begins. The natural right of self-​defence within the commonwealth is
transferred to the state (II 4, 2.1), so that it has the authority (jurisdictio, II 1, 1) to
wage public war. But beyond borders, as already developed in JP, private war can be
just as permissible (II 1, 3).
Most violations refer to private rights of individuals (potestates), such as domin-
ium (rights vis-​à-​vis persons or to property) and obligations (creditum). Rights of
the governing power (imperium) form but a category of rights flowing from potestas
over persons and, by derivation, over property (dominium). Thus, territorial sover-
eignty (II 9) is a function of rule which can be acquired overseas by contract with
local authorities or by just war, and its violation may constitute in itself a reason for
enforcement.50 The right to migrate and settle is an extension of the rights to navi-
gation and trade equally defended already in JP. A special case is war for the sake of
others; Grotius’ humanitarian intervention, as mentioned, can assume the strange
character of an act on behalf of a people that has no right to resist.51
The subjective character of law, on the one hand, and its relation to state author-
ity, on the other, gives rise to the question where this concept stands in the devel-
opment of individual or human rights. Given the emphasis on man’s natural
equipment with rights (‘[b]‌y nature a man’s life is his own, not indeed to destroy,
but to safeguard’, II 17, 2.1) and their concrete shape (‘body, limbs, reputation,
honour’), one might see this derivation of rights from human faculty as an impor-
tant step in that direction.52 However, it is not more than that. Methodologically,
the rights system is an adaptation of Roman civil law to the laws of nations; how
far its substance can be traced back to medieval theology is subject to a controversy
between legal historians and historians of political thought.53 But from a modern
public-​law perspective on the function of these rights, it is notable that the indi-
vidual has a role in this system foremost in creating authority. Freedom as such, be
it of human beings or of entire peoples, is present in the state of nature, but it can
be lost by waiver or conquest, as the treatment of slavery and resistance has shown.
Human persons are seen as members of a community, but not as isolated individu-
als who confront a powerful state.54

50  Unsurprisingly, the construction has been received as to affirm the old design for colonization; cf.
Tuck, Rights, pp. 104–​8 (n. 12); Koskenniemi, Emergence, p. 17 (n. 25).
51  Cf. Yasuaki Onuma, ‘War’, in Normative Approach, pp. 57–​121, at pp. 107–​11 (n. 35).
52  Cf. Hans Blom, ‘The Great Privilege (1477) as “Code of Dutch Freedom” ’, in Barbara Dölemeyer
and Heinz Mohnhaupt (eds.), Das Privileg im europäischen Vergleich (1997), vol. I, pp. 233–​47; Peter
Haggenmacher, ‘Droits subjectifs et système juridique chez Grotius’, in Luc Foisneau (ed.), Politique,
droit et théologie chez Bodin, Grotius et Hobbes (1997), pp. 73–​130, at p. 130; van Nifterik, Grotius,
pp. 15–​16 (n. 7); but see Christoph Stumpf, The Grotian Theology of International Law (2006), pp.
58–​63, who holds that the system was not on rights, but on obligations. This would be in line with
prior natural law conceptions of justice as virtue and duty, see Leo Strauss, Natural Right and History
(1953), pp. 146–​8.
53  See Laurens Winkel, ‘Problems of Legal Systematization from De iure praedae to De iure belli ac
pacis’, Grotiana 26–​8 (2005–​2007), 61–​78, at 76–​7.
54  Knud Haakonssen, ‘Hugo Grotius and the History of Political Thought’, Pol Thr 13 (1985),
239–​65; Brian Tierney, The Idea of Natural Rights (1997), pp. 333–​6.
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Hugo Grotius 145

The place of rights is in the doctrine of war, for they are the standard against which
use of force is justified. This opens up another problem. If there are as many reasons
for war as there are rights, why bother outlawing war in the first place? Obviously,
there is a second part to it. As explained in book I, Grotius conceives war as a legal
relationship, a certain state in the course of a dispute. For that purpose, he com-
bines the just war tradition with a notion of form and status as Gentili understood
it,55 and like in the just-​war theories before, further requirements must be met, i.e.
authority, proportionality, and right intention. Private war is linked to authority in
that it depends on the non-​availability of public power. As to proportionality, war
should only be the last resort; in case of doubt, negotiation, conferences (II 23, 7)
and, famously, arbitration (II 23, 8) are recommended. The requirement of just
intention aims at concealing impermissible interest behind allegedly just causes. In
the end, war can only be justified in rare cases (II 24, 8). The weakness of this con-
cept is that proportionality is not a compelling standard, and intentions are hard to
verify. One might conclude that raison d’état has become domesticated by law,56 but
at the price of a plethora of just reasons to wage war.

c) Laws of war
Book III deals with ‘what is permissible in war’ (III 1, 1). The concept of ‘permis-
sion’ (quod liceat, III 1, 1) is decisive. Natural law coincides with moral precepts,
but just as there is immoral behaviour that goes unpunished by men (like lying, for
example), natural law also leaves room for permitting inhuman conduct in war.
In that space, law of a merely outward effect (Pr. 41), i.e. volitional jus gentium,
can develop. Thus, book III consults consecutively natural law, the law of nations,
and commandments of Christian duty.57 Since not all that is done in the course of
conflict is punishable under natural law, the rules of conflict are, for the most part,
merely limited by morality. The cruelty of these laws has often been deplored.58
They allow wanton killings of anyone on the enemy’s territory, including women
and children, the right to refuse surrender, destruction, pillage, torturing of prison-
ers, and enslavement (III 4, 6 to 18).
This lack of legal restraint is said to pay tribute to what was known from the wars
at the age; but it also looks as if Grotius fell back to his habit of relying on antique
sources against his own intentions.59 One may also question whether this descrip-
tion is in line with the stoic assumption of the sociable nature of man. Obviously,
the international society has serious shortcomings, and the strategy to overcome

55  Onuma, ‘War’, in Normative Approach, p. 62 (war as a ‘lawsuit’) (n. 35).

56  Cf. Istvan Hont, Jealousy of Trade (2005), p. 15; Kingsbury and Straumann, State of Nature, p. 35
(n. 46).
57  Hans Wehberg, Die Unterscheidung von Natur-​und Völkerrecht in der Lehre von Hugo Grotius,
in Mensch und Staat in Recht und Geschichte (1954), pp. 227–​32.
58  Karma Nabulsi, Traditions of War: Occupation, Resistance and the Law (1999), pp. 155–​8.
59  As opposed to practice, law was not necessarily as cruel; see Kenneth Ögren, ‘Humanitarian
Law in the Articles of War decreed 1621 by King Gustavus II Adolphus of Sweden’, IRRC 36 (1996),
438–​42.
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146 Stefan Kadelbach

them is to offer certain advantages, such as enslavement and property seized in

war, for abstaining from even more destructive conduct.60 However, atrocities, if
not punishable, were nevertheless immoral (III 4, 3); a sorry comfort as it is, the
argument is a critique of what was conceived then as voluntary law.61 There were
only two ways out of these savage customs to the forces of reason, the virtue of
moderation (temperantia), and change of jus gentium.62 An accurate restatement of
contemporary law was not intended. Later Vattel was to elevate such principles to
the normativity of law. Grotius’ project was to frame a realist picture of the laws of
war in a plea for moral progress.

3. Intention and method
a) Intention
Given the large proportion devoted to war, it is at times observed that relatively
little attention appears to be paid to peace itself.63 However, peace is mentioned at
the beginning as the stated intention (Pr 28).64 It is the central perspective from
which everything is supposed to make sense, the Alpha and Omega of the whole
exercise.65 It serves as the justification behind problematic or contradictory parts
of JBP like the binding force of contracts and treaties under all circumstances, the
refusal of a right of resistance, the according of benefits of war also to the unjust
party, and it is the regulative idea behind the principles of conduct in war. Peace
prevails over freedom and justice.66
The question is what kind of peace this means. The second book depicts peace
as the absence of war, which appears against the background of contemporary bel-
licism as a plausible end in itself. However, there is a further normative dimension
to it. If the purpose of war is re-​establishing or securing peace (I 1, 1) by restoration

60  Daniel Schwartz, ‘Grotius on the Moral Standing of the Society of Nations’, J Hist IL 14 (2012),
123–​46.
61  G. I. A. D. Draper, ‘Grotius’ Place in the Development of Legal Ideas About War’, in Hedley Bull
et al. (eds.), Hugo Grotius and International Relations (1992), pp. 177–​208, at p. 207; Tadashi Tanaka,
‘Temperamenta’, in Normative Approach, pp. 276–​307, at pp. 302–​3 (n. 35); Steven Forde, ‘Hugo
Grotius on Ethics and War’, Am Pol Sc Rev 92 (1998), 639–​48.
62  See Remec, Individual, pp. 107–​18 (n. 48).
63 Hofmann, Grotius, p. 65 ‘[v]‌om Frieden ist gar nicht die Rede’ (n. 6).
64  ‘Throughout the Christian world I observed a lack of restraint in relation to war, such as even
barbarous races should be ashamed of; I observed that men rush to arms for slight causes, or no cause
at all, and that when arms have once been taken up there is no longer any respect for law, divine or
human; it is as if, in accordance with a general decree, frenzy had openly been let loose for the com-
mitting of all crimes.’
65  The bracket of peace also determines the structure of JBP, cf. I 1, 1 (controversiae as the first word
of book I) and, in the end, III 23, 16 (prayer for peace); see also Haggenmacher, Guerre juste, pp. 565–​7
(n. 26).
66 An objection to this view is that the treatment of valid law of the time undermined this
declared purpose; see Bert Röling, ‘Are Grotius’ Ideas Obsolete in an Expanded World?’ and Georg
Schwarzenberger, ‘The Grotius Factor in International Law and Relations’, both in Hugo Grotius and
International Relations, pp. 281–​300 and 301–​12, respectively (n. 61).
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Hugo Grotius 147

of rights, the underlying idea is a concept of order. A peaceful and organized society
was described as the natural condition of man at the beginning (Pr. 6). If this is the
description of a perfect peace, the Grotian order has features of a backward utopia,
which would in a way comply with the line of reasoning already found in JP. True,
while JP was concerned with explaining why the pursuit of self-​interest is just,
JBP was about the failure of justice in the pursuit of self-​interest.67 However, both
coincide in the general structuring of the argument towards an underlying notion
of a state of nature to be recovered, undivided commons of the seas in the first case,
order by peace in the second.

b) Method
This intention behind JBP has certainly contributed to decisions on difficult choices
in its course. However, it does not, for the most part, guide visibly the process
of developing the content of specific rules. The question how the components of
the system were filled with substance is one of method. Grotius discerns a deduc-
tive and an inductive element, both of which are in the end similar to each other.
Natural law and volitional law are dealt with separately. Natural law, including the
first principles of nature (prima naturae), the ‘first duty’ to take care of oneself (I 2,
1.1), can be ascertained by virtue of human reason, since a sense of what complies
with it and what does not is part of the human condition (Pr. 9, 23, 39). Proof can
be found in the testimony of those who have expressed themselves on the matter
with sufficient authority. The inductive method, by contrast, seeks evidence for
practice. For ‘when many at different times, and in different places, affirm the same
thing as certain, that ought to be referred to a universal cause’ (Pr. 40). Both meth-
ods serve as proof for the existence of a common consent that is present in the law
of nations (Pr. 40, I 1, 14.2). The natural (‘which is truly and in all respects law’)
and volitional law of nations (‘which produces merely a kind of outward effect’) can
only be distinguished ‘by the character of the matter’. Thus, both the deductive and
inductive methods start with practical reasoning and rely on the same material in
finding evidence. The Grotian method is an abstraction from customs of the time
(Pr. 58),68 and its result is an abstract notion of law rather than codification.69
Canvassing just how much influence which source really had in JBP has become
a science of its own. Grotius mentions Aristotle in particular, who ‘holds the fore-
most place’ (Pr. 42), Greek and Roman history, poets and orators,70 the Bible, and

67 Brett, Changes, pp. 70–​1 (n. 17).

68  When Pr. 58 refers to method as ‘mathematics’, Grotius means verification in this sense and not
what Cartesian rationalism denotes as mos geometricus; previously, he had denoted the method to set
out axioms (rules and laws) before proving them as mathematical (JP I, p. 7).
69  To what extent Grotian thought had an impact on practice is a different question; see Edgar
Müller, ‘Hugo Grotius und der Dreißigjährige Krieg’, Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis 77 (2009),
499–​538.
70  Benjamin Straumann, Roman Law in the State of Nature:  The Classical Foundations of Hugo
Grotius’ Natural Law (2015).
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148 Stefan Kadelbach

Roman law.71 It is obvious that Grotius drew from stoicism, be it immediately or

as taken up by humanism and scholasticism alike.72 Oikeiosis and the demand for
justice even in relations external to the state are stoic (JBP Pr 5-​18), as is the merger
of natural justice and imperial claims in just-​war theory (cf. Pr 53).73 The Humanist
spirit coined the immediate environment of the Leiden school, but its precise impact
on JBP is hard to detect.74 Some aspects show traces of Erasmus’ (qualified) paci-
fism, which may be seen in an expressed principal aversion to war (Pr. 28), but
Grotius rejects his general admonishment not to use arms against Christians (Pr.
29).75 From Gentili, a humanist, but by no means a pacifist, JBP profited largely,
particularly so in the part on the conduct in war, even though it rarely expresses
outright approval.76 Traditional interpretation credits the strongest influence to
scholastic heritage like the Aristotelian social character of man,77 the distinction
between natural and conventional justice, the subdivision into attributive and dis-
tributive justice, and further distinctions of this kind; furthermore, we should men-
tion the hierarchy between divine, natural, and human law, the dual origin of jus
gentium in natural and human law, as well as the extraction of subjective rights from
moral capacities.78 Grotius’ communis societatis generis humani is not only a stoic
concept; it also parallels Vitoria’s totus orbis, as does the embedding of jus communi-
cationis in the just-​war theory.79 A special case is Grotius’ relationship with Suárez,
whose De Legibus ac Deo Legislatore (LDL) had been published twelve years before
JBP.80 Whereas frequent reference is made to Vitoria, Soto, Vázquez de Menchaca,
Covarruvias, Molina, and Ayala,81 Suárez is cited only rarely and in passing.82 The

71  Pr. 40, 42, 47, 48, 52, 58. For a concordance of citations, see David Bederman, ‘Reception of
the Classical Tradition in International Law: Grotius’ De Jure Belli ac Pacis’, Emory IL Rev 10 (1996),
1–​49, at 41–​9.
72  On the stoic influence, see contributions in Hans Blom and Laurens Winkel (ed.), Grotiana 21
(2001–​02).
73  Christopher Brooke, ‘Grotius, Stoicism and “Oikeiosis” ’, Grotiana 29 (2008), 25–​50.
74  On Grotius in Leiden, see Fiorella de Michelis, Le origini storiche e culturali del pensiero di Ugo
Grozio (1967), pp. 62–​81. On different opinions about the influence of Justus Lipsius, see Straumann,
Roman Law, p. 45 (n. 70) and Christopher Ford, ‘Preaching Propriety to Princes: Grotius, Lipsius, and
Neo-​Stoic International Law’, Case W Res JIL 28 (1996), 313–​66, at 341–​66.
75  On the stand vis-​à-​vis Erasmus, see Matthijs de Blois, ‘Blessed [Are] the Peacemakers … : Grotius
on the Just War and Christian Pacifism’, Grotiana 32 (2011), 20–​39, at 27–​31.
76  Peter Haggenmacher, ‘Grotius and Gentili’, in Grotius and International Relations, pp. 133–​76
(n. 61).
77  But see Tuck, Rights, p. 89 (n. 12): Sociability only in a European sense and thus a restriction of
the Aristotelian human notion.
78 Koskenniemi, Emergence, pp. 10–​17 (n. 25).
79  This ancestry is rejected by Tuck, Rights, p. 108 (n. 12), who sees older just-​war doctrines per-
verted by Grotius’ advocacy of intervention for commercial and expansionist purposes.
80  Citations are from Francisco Suárez, De Legibus ac Deo Legislatore (1612), in James Brown Scott
(ed.), Selections of Three Works (1944).
81  For an overview, see Borschberg, Commentarius, pp. 47–​101 (n. 15). Counts of citations are
found in Antonio Truyol Serra, ‘Grotius dans ses rapports avec les classiques espagnols du droit des
gens’, RdC 182 (1983), 431–​51, at 451.
82  Defendants of the Spanish origins theory blame Grotius for quoting Suárez only four times in
subordinate contexts and for concealing his indebtedness to him in De jure praedae (1604) by insert-
ing a summary taken from LDL (1612) at a later point in time; on this episode, see Edwards, Miracle,
pp. 148–​55 (n. 34).
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Hugo Grotius 149

modest record of quoting has caused some frowning, and resemblances with Suárez’
notions are at the core of debates about Grotius’ originality. Central elements are the
universal human society united by solidarity (actually love and mercy, LDL II 19, 9),
the reception of the rationalist/​voluntarist debate as to the origin of natural law, the
openness of natural law to change and permission, and the adaptation of dominium
to the notion of free commerce as a component of a system of law, to name just some
of those which have been dealt with here.83 If a short formula is sought, the Grotian
mindset can be described as a fusion of the scholastic form of structuring and the
humanist style of argument.
This admittedly cursory account at least shows that JBP had drawn from so many
sources that Grotius’ reputation as a syncretist, compilator, and synthesizer of pre-​
existent thought is understandable. To do justice to this style, however, it is worth
pondering that recourse to sources in JBP is not in the first place a matter of pure
doctrine and scholarly authority, but rather of proving what Grotius considered as
the reality of the relations between states.

4. Some characteristic features

Given the ambitious intentions of JBP, the array of sources cited and the different
currents they represent, the degree of its originality was debated in various ways.
Instead of taking up this debate, five features will be distilled here which seem to be
characteristic for Grotius’ international legal thought.
The first is an attitude that accounts for both the originality dispute and incon-
sistencies in the technique of reasoning, but which has also contributed to Grotius’
success in the later tradition of political thought. There is a proverbial inclination
in JBP towards a middle approach between the extremes. It shows in the treatment
of the impious hypothesis, in the ambivalence of social contract, in the position
between pacifism and reason of state, and in the precarious balancing between a
realist view at the usages of war and idealist pleas for the better.
The second feature is Grotius’ contract theory. The fusion of Aristotelian socia-
bility with the sanctity of contracts, which carries the commonwealth and interna-
tional society alike, did not yet yield a social contract proper nor a société des nations
of any sort. The Grotian concept of law still represents natural law as one monistic
legal order. Rights and contract are the keys to a concept of law in which individuals
and states are subjects. In that form, it is a precursor of later contractualism.
A third characteristic is the claim to a universal reach of jus gentium. The recon-
struction of the dual origin of natural law and its emergence from old controver-
sies has shown that natural law has a place in Grotian theology. The reductionist
method of verifying norms in law and in ethics alike does not necessarily prove
natural law to be secular. One will note from today’s perspective that this plan was
pursued by inappropriate means, since the Humanist–​Protestant background is
always present, and the material used was inevitably European. But the purpose was

83  Cf. Edwards, Miracle, pp. 86–​105 (n. 34); Koskenniemi, Emergence, p. 17 (n. 25).
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150 Stefan Kadelbach

inter-​confessional with the objective to explain its binding force also vis-​à-​vis (and
for) non-​Christian nations.
Fourthly, the structuring of the problem of a just war against the background
of subjective rights is probably the first description of the law of nations to revolve
around the subjects of law.84 Adam Smith referred to Grotius as ‘the first who
attempted to give the world any thing like a system of those principles which ought
to run through, and be the foundation of the laws of all nations’.85 Liberal as it
appears, this ‘system’ can be interpreted as the set-​up of the state as a protector of
economic interest.86
The last characteristic to be mentioned here is of a methodological kind and
concerns the sources of international law. Their most important function is to
prove the existence of law between states as a social fact. The method to identify
sources is unique. Apart from the most basic rules of natural law, which are rec-
ognized a priori, reflection by reason alone does not carry very far when it comes
to verifying binding law. Grotius relies to a substantial extent on an a posteriori
ascertaining of principles and rules.87 As long as there are not yet collections of
practice as they are promulgated in later epochs, human knowledge from the
books must suffice to verify custom. Municipal (Roman) law has a supplemen-
tary role in it. Thus, it becomes visible what later will be classified as custom and
general principles.

III.  Grotius and Ensuing Natural Law Philosophy

The measuring of Grotius’ influence on further history of political thought and

international law theory largely depends on the willingness to interpret later refer-
ence as contributions to a tradition. Whereas more recent research has taken an
increasing interest in Grotius’ relation to Hobbes, traditional historiography points
at an authoritarian and a liberal pedigree.
It has been noted that Hobbes’ philosophy can be read as a conversation with
Grotius.88 Therefore, some consider Grotius as proto-​Hobbesian, given his ulti-
mate basing of natural law on the need for self-​preservation and the irritating con-
cept of contractual absolutism.89 Internationalists may recall findings concerning

84  One can object that this is not true international law, since most rules entitle private persons,
and it is not complete, so that it is not a ‘system’; see Peter Haggenmacher, ‘Hugo Grotius’, in Bardo
Fassbender and Anne Peters (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law (2012),
pp. 1098–​1101.
85  Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Knud Haakonssen (ed). (2002), p. 404.
86 Koskenniemi, Emergence (n. 25).
87  Cf. Jules Basdevant, ‘Hugo Grotius’, in Antoine Pillet (ed.), Les fondateurs du droit international
(1904, repr. 2014), pp. 119–​206, at p. 177; Roberto Ago, ‘Le droit international dans la conception de
Grotius’, RdC 182 (1983), 375–​98, at 391–​2.
88 Baumgold, Contract Theory, pp. 30–​41, 57–​9, 81–​4 (n. 47).
89 Tuck, Grotius (n. 31); Tuck, Rights, pp. 13 and 135 (n. 12); Haakonssen, Natural Law, pp. 31–​5
(n. 36). This reading goes back to Rousseau, ‘Emile, ou de l’éducation’, in Œuvres complètes 8 (1831),
liv. V, p. 236 (‘La vérité est que leurs principes sont exactement semblables, ils ne diffèrent que par les
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Hugo Grotius 151

the laws of war.90 Intriguing as this version of the secularization theory is, it carries
the point too far.91 Obviously, Hobbes and Grotius start from different assump-
tions as to the nature of man: for Grotius, human beings are social with the effect
that law precedes the state, whereas Hobbes’ ploy was to take away the moral
ontology of man which Grotius had inherited from scholasticism. And whereas
Hobbes constructed state, authority, and command, Grotius’ very point was to
preserve order without such authority and to tame anarchy with the prerequisites
of a law alone.
Reading Grotius as an authoritarian means ascribing to him what has its traits
in Pufendorf. The contention that Grotius secularized natural law goes back to
him and to Barbeyrac, the translator of both Grotius and Pufendorf. The latter,
Pufendorf, depicted JBP as a new start in the philosophy of natural law, and
Barbeyrac found that Grotius was the first who had attempted ‘to give a system’
to the science of natural law,92 the interest behind this reading being in a law that
did not depend on the authority of (Catholic) theology.93 Pufendorf himself had
not expressed himself explicitly in that sense, but could have done so.94 However,
as has often been noted, Pufendorf ’s Hobbesian departures from Grotius’ think-
ing are significant.95 He construes rule and authority as the means to keep human
self-​interest in check. Law rests on command, not on consent. Law beyond the
state is exclusively public law, and the law of nations is merely an external law of
the state.
The liberal tradition96 begins with Grotius’ influence on Locke’s notion of natu-
ral law, which becomes apparent in the concepts of dominium and rights.97 For
Locke, natural law is always in harmony with universal divine law, so that there is
no need to distinguish one from the other, the result being both a reinforcement
of theology and a ‘secularizing effect’.98 A genuine conversion of Grotian patterns

expressions. Ils diffèrent aussi par la méthode. Hobbes s’appuie sur des sophismes, et Grotius sur des
poëtes; tout le reste leur est commun’).
90  Cf. Hersch Lauterpacht, ‘The Grotian Tradition in International Law’, BYIL 23 (1946), 1–​53,
at 13–​14.
91  Robert Shaver, ‘Grotius on Scepticism and Self-​Interest’, Arch Gesch Phil 78 (1996), 27–​47, at
30–​9; Zuckert, Natural Rights, pp. 137–​8 (n. 40); Perez Zagorin, ‘Hobbes Without Grotius’, Hist Pol
Thgt 21 (2000), 16–​40; Blom, Trust, pp. 51–​8 (n. 10).
92  Cf. Barbeyrac’s preface to the 1729 edition of Pufendorf ’s De jure naturae et gentium, sec. 29,
quoted by St. Leger, Etiamsi Daremus, p. 39 (n. 33).
93  Frank Grunert, ‘The Reception of Hugo Grotius’ De Jure Belli Ac Pacis in the Early German
Enlightenment’, in T.J. Hochstrasser and P. Schröder (eds.), Early Modern Law Theories (2003), pp.
89–​105, at pp. 96–​7.
94  For Pufendorf ’s treatment of the impious hypothesis, see De jure naturae et gentium Libri Octo
(1688), ed. and trans. C.H. and W.A. Oldfather (1934) lib. I 2, mn 20 (p. 30).
95  Cf. Renée Jeffery, Hugo Grotius in International Thought (2006), pp. 57–​61.
96  A reading against the background of Rawlsian liberalism is offered by Stumpf, Grotian Theology,
p. 9 and passim (n. 51).
97  Cf. James Tully, An Approach to Political Philosophy: Locke in Contexts (1993), pp. 101–​17. On
Locke’s justification of slavery and its Grotian roots, see James Farr, ‘Locke, Natural Law, and New
World Slavery’, Pol Thr 36 (2008), 495–​522.
98 Gabriella Silvestrini, ‘With Grotius against Grotius:  Jephta’s ‘Appeal to Heaven’ in John
Locke’s Two Treatises of Government’, in Roots of International Law, pp. 59–​94, at 93 (n. 10). For an
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152 Stefan Kadelbach

concerns the merger of the right to opposition and just-​war theory. While Grotius,
as we have seen, rejected self-​defence against unjust rule in unequivocal terms,
Locke imports the reasons for a just war into the internal realm and considers resist-
ance justified if there is a just cause.99
As for international law, the ‘Grotian’ notion refers to a liberal universalism that
does not from the beginning stress individual rights, but instead emphasizes inter-
national society. It starts from Leibniz, who learned from Grotius via Pufendorf
and reconstructed the fusion of morality and law, which Pufendorf had dissolved.
Leibniz also went back to the idea of sovereignty as a fact rather than as an expres-
sion of legitimate rule.100 The Grotian concept of securing peace on common
ground reappeared in the civitas dei of Leibniz. From there, it was but one further
step to Wolff.101 Wolff saw in Grotius’ notion of society the predecessor of his
civitas maxima, which nature itself had established, but constructed voluntary law
as being directly determined by it; man-​made customary law was to be distin-
guished from them both. In this modified way, Wolff reinstated the dual origin of
jus gentium.102
As early twentieth-​century reception has it, Vattel was the gravedigger of the
Grotian vision.103 Accordingly, despite distinguishing necessary law from volun-
tary law, Vattel considered agreement as the sole source of law and decomposed
international society into a loose assemblage of sovereign states. The political
theories of the enlightenment brought the process of the secularization of law to
an end. Since man-​made law had become the only enforceable source of obliga-
tion between nations, the Grotian record of mandatory rules began slowly to be
replaced.
Recent scholarship, however, which has begun to focus on the Grotian theory
of the state, stresses the theory of rights rather than the theory of international
society. Accordingly, the line to be drawn from him to Locke, Hume, and Smith
deserves more attention. The Grotian system, then, is not only one of interna-
tional law or society, but also one of rights, a position closer to the eighteenth
century than some philosophers of the Enlightenment would wish to make it
appear.104

expansionist understanding Tuck, Rights, pp. 171–​81 (n. 12); Locke’s rejection of conquest as a title
(Two Treatises of Government, ed. Peter Laslett (1970) II, ch xvi, §§ 180–​4) is then put in relation to
Spanish claims.
99 Silvestrini, With Grotius, pp. 60–​1, 70–​83 (n. 98). 100 Jeffery, Grotius, p. 63 (n. 95).
101  See the contribution by Kleinlein in this volume.
102  On Grotius and Wolff, see Ernst Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian
Wolff’, ZaöRV 15 (1953/​54), 76–​102.
103  Hamilton Vreeland, Hugo Grotius, The Father of the Modern Science of International Law (1917),
pp. 171–​2; Cornelius van Vollenhoven, The Three Stages in the Evolution of the Law of Nations (1919);
Cornelius van Vollenhoven, ‘Grotius and the Study of Law’, AJIL 19 (1925), 1–​11.
104  If it was not for the authoritarian gist of it, see Koskenniemi, Emergence, pp. 33–​7 (n. 25): Grotius
continued a tradition of scholasticism to emancipate subjective rights from objective legal order and to
connect them with the interest of the state. But this is a controversial reading; see above (n. 91); cf. also
James Tully, Editor’s Introduction, in Samuel Pufendorf, On the Duty of Man and Citizen (1991), pp.
xviii–​xxi; Hont, Jealousy of Trade, pp. 164–​84 (n. 55).
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Hugo Grotius 153

IV.  The ‘Grotian Tradition’

1. ‘Grotian moments’ and the ‘Grotian quest’

Reminiscences to Grotius are used to prove the rooting of a rule in tradition, to
witness the originality and prophetic qualities of a classic, and to indicate a need
for progress. Apart from the freedom of the seas,105 the other aspects belonging to
the catalogue of allegedly Grotian institutions are human rights and humanitarian
intervention,106 humanitarian law,107 the law of treaties and their interpretation,108
the law of state responsibility,109 and the peaceful settlement of disputes including
arbitration.110 Anachronistic as these references may seem, they illustrate that the
name of Grotius is used synonymously for a comprehensive system of interna-
tional law for the components of which he is considered an authority of intuitive
persuasiveness.
On a more abstract level, the associations that allusions to Grotius were sup-
posed to provoke were morality, idealism, and progress.111 In this vein, one way
to speak of Grotius is to deploy an argument for a shift in paradigm, from insuf-
ficient order to a structuring by new rules or new forms of political organization.112
It is by this token that a former Secretary-​General of the United Nations saw a
‘Grotian moment’ in the prospect of new mulitilateralism after the Cold War.113
Such invocations stand in the tradition of the ‘Grotian Quest’, which draws inspi-
ration from Grotius’ idealist potential and seeks to preserve Grotian heritage in
further course,114 as it was the case with the two Hague peace conferences, the
foundation of the League of Nations, the establishment of the United Nations, and
the Nuremberg and Tokyo Trials.115
This use of Grotian philosophy is erratic, but in line with various cycles of recep-
tion which circled around the initial question of JPB, the impact of legal norms

105  W.E. Butler, ‘Grotius and the Law of the Sea’, in Hugo Grotius and International Relations,
pp. 209–​20 (n. 61).
106  Ove Bring, ‘Hugo Grotius and the Roots of Human Rights Law’, in Jonas Grimheden et al.
(eds.), Human Rights Law from Dissemination to Application (2006), pp. 131–​47, at pp. 140–​1.
107  For a dark interpretation of a ‘Grotian tradition of War’, see Nabulsi, Traditions of War, pp. 158–​
76 (n. 58).
108  Makoto Kimura, ‘Treaties and Good Faith with Enemies’, in Normative Approach, pp. 308–​32,
at pp. 314–​15 (n. 35).
109 Lauterpacht, Grotian Tradition, p. 48 (n. 90).
110  van Vollenhoven, Grotius, p. 5 (n .103).
111  See Christopher Weeramantry, ‘Opening Tribute to Hugo Grotius’, Am U IL Rev 14 (1999),
1516–​20.
112  For an attempt to build a theory of customary law on this concept, cf. Michael Scharf, Customary
Law in Times of Change: Recognizing Grotian Moments (2013).
113  Boutros Boutros-​Ghali, ‘A Grotian Moment’, Fordh ILJ 18 (1995), 1609–​16.
114 Edwards, Miracle, pp. 157–​81 (n. 34).
115  The District Court of Jerusalem invoked Grotius to derive a right to punish from international
law; see Attorney-​General v Adolf Eichmann, 36 ILR 5 (1961), paras. 14, 32, 38; Hannah Arendt,
Eichmann in Jerusalem (German edn, 1964), p. 56.
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154 Stefan Kadelbach

founded in morality on international relations. Whereas the debate about who was
the true founder of international law still continued after the Second World War,
focusing on Grotius’ employment as a secularizer, reference to Grotius as the ‘father
of international law’ assumed a new accent. The ‘Grotian tradition’ now marked a
defined position in the ‘grand debate’ between realism and idealism in the wake of
the establishment of international relations as an academic discipline (2. below), to
which International Relations theory reacted (3.). This discourse declined with the
end of the Cold War. Recent reception deconstructs Grotian thought as a precursor
to colonialism, authoritarianism, and capitalism (4.).

2. International  law
That the fatherhood diagnosis began to become disputed only in the second half
of the nineteenth century seems to affirm a verdict by Hegel that Grotius was not
read anymore.116 This was probably not even accurate at the time. Grotius was
quite popular in the early American republic and was cited with approval or even
recommended as essential reading by Jefferson, Hamilton, and Franklin.117 What
apparently appealed to American readers was the notion of divided sovereignty,
the idea of civilized conduct in international relations, which was a desire for the
young state to demonstrate, and a perception of Christian morals in international
law.118 In continental legal thought, most particularly in Germany, Grotius had
also always been present. Thus, his re-​discovery in the wake of the humanitarian
movement in the second half of the nineteenth century is less of a surprise than
it might appear. When Grotius was chosen as the symbol figure of the Hague
Peace Conference in 1899,119 the decisive reason was the recommendation to
resort to peaceful means of settlement before resorting to war (JBP II 23, 8).120
At the time when the revival of Spanish scholastics began,121 such attributions
had been quite common.122 However, the dispute about them appears to resem-
ble a new version of the secularization debate.123 After the First World War, it

116 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über die Geschichte der Philosophie’, in
Hermann Glockner (ed.), Sämtliche Werke (1959), vol. 19, p. 440.
117 Jeffery, Grotius, pp. 77–​84 (n. 95), with reference.
118  Cf. Mark Weston Janis, ‘American Versions of the International Law of Christendom: Kent,
Wheaton and the Grotian Tradition’, Neth IL Rev 39 (1992), 37–​61.
119  Because of Grotius, the Holy See was not invited, since JBP still figured on the index, though it
was removed soon after; see Hofmann, Grotius, p. 54 (n. 6).
120  Cf. van Ittersum, Profit, p. xxxii (n. 13).
121  Ernest Nys, Le droit de la guerre et les précurseurs de Grotius (1882).
122  Edward Keene, ‘The Reception of Grotius in International Relations Theory’, Grotiana 20/​
21 (1999/​2000), 135–​58, at 144–​5. Keene points to a reference by Georg Friedrich von Martens,
Summary of the Law of Nations (1795), p.  8 (‘father of this science’), and a tradition in counter-​
revolutionary international law theory at the time to define order in legalistic terms; see also Carl von
Kaltenborn, Die Vorläufer des Hugo Grotius (1848), pp. 231–​46.
123  For the Spanish origins thesis, see James Brown Scott, The Spanish Origin of International Law
(1932), pp. ixf., 3f.; Alfred Verdross, Abendländische Rechtsphilosophie (2nd edn, 1963), pp. 112–​
13; Truyol Serra, Grotius (n. 81); Randall Lesaffer, ‘The Grotian Tradition Revisited: Change and
Continuity in the History of International Law’, BYIL 73 (2002), 103–​39.
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Hugo Grotius 155

was under these auspices that confessing Grotians competed with post-​Vitorian
law-​of-​nature theorists about the authorship for the design of an organized world
community.124
After the Second World War, the debate continued,125 but soon assumed a new
direction that drew on the Grotian self-​perception as a middle-​way approach.
By the 1920s, it had become a habit to describe Grotius as an intermediate posi-
tion between natural law and positivism.126 In this line, it was a reaction both
to Carr’s version of political realism and Kelsen’s pure theory of law that Hersch
Lauterpacht presented his exposé of the stoic defence of law and his own defi-
nition of what represented the Grotian tradition.127 Accordingly, ‘Grotian’ is
a synonym for reliance on international law as a system and its foundation in
morality. Lauterpacht specifies this position in eleven principles:128 (1) The sub-
jection of international relations to the rule of law rather than to the interest
in self-​preservation; (2) the acceptance of the law of nature as an independent
source of international law, so that law is not only the product of the express will
of states, but also represents general principles of law; (3) the affirmation of the
social nature and rational constitution of man as the basis of law, in contrast to
Machiavelli and Hobbes; (4) the essential identity of states and individuals as to
their moral and legal obligations; (5) consequently, the rejection of ‘reason of the
state’ as a manifestation of double standards; (6) the distinction between just and
unjust wars, since all war has to be justified; (7) a doctrine of qualified neutrality,
since there can be no full neutrality against a state that wages an unlawful war;
(8) the binding character of promises as a cornerstone of law; (9) fundamental
rights and freedoms of the individual, at least a general attitude of humanity; (10)
the idea of peace and the obligation to seek negotiation and arbitration; and (11)
a general idealism and belief in progress.
Thus, the ‘Grotian’ position is no longer one on the originality of a natural law
concept or a specific idea of a system. With Lauterpacht, Grotianism has become
part of a dispute of the faculties. For the time being, it was in IR theory where
Grotian thought lingered on.

3. International Relations
Lauterpacht’s taxonomy was taken up by the so-​called English school in the 1950s,
in particular by Martin Wight and, more schematically, by Hedley Bull. Wight dis-
tinguished between revolutionarism, rationalism (to which he counted ‘Grotians’),

124  van Vollenhoven, Three Stages (n. 103); cf. P. H. Kooijmans, ‘How to Handle the Grotian
Heritage: Grotius and Van Vollenhoven’, Neth IL Rev 30 (1983), 81–​92.
125  Edward Dumbauld, ‘Hugo Grotius: The Father of International Law’, J Publ L 1 (1952), 117–​
37; Walter Schiffer, The Legal Community of Mankind (1954), pp. 38, 46.
126  Lassa Oppenheim, International Law (3rd edn, 1920), p. 107.
127 Lauterpacht, Grotian Tradition (n. 90); Arthur Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of
Nations (1954), pp. 105–​14; Lassa Oppenheim and Hersch Lauterpacht, International Law, vol. I (8th
edn, 1955), p. 98.
128 Lauterpacht, Grotian Tradition, pp. 19–​51 (n. 90).
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156 Stefan Kadelbach

and realism,129 which provided the design for the well-​known standard account
ascribed to Hedley Bull, who placed Grotius between Hobbes’ realism and Kantian
idealism.130 Accordingly, Grotius left old natural-​law thinking behind and con-
ceived a new notion of international society in the sense of an interdependent com-
munity of states.
Bull posits his own picture of international society in contrast to Grotius’ ‘soli-
darist’ view, from which, however, some of the elements identified as Grotian are
retained.131 System, then, was not a whole of legal and moral interrelations between
persons and states, but a neutral descriptive term. Accordingly, a system exists when
two or more states are in contact with each other and mutually influence their
behaviour. Order is a ‘pattern of activity that sustained the elementary or primary
goals of the society of states’.132 Whereas only order can provide for justice, the
existence of the system of states does not depend on it. Since justice is an inherently
subjective concept, system and order are in tension with each other. Hence Bull’s
(though in the end mitigated) critique of ‘solidarism’ and affirmations of unity of
the international order in its wake rather pointed at the question whether this was
an adequate description of the international landscape of his own day. Bull con-
ceived international society as a loosely structured system of states characterized by
minimum consent and an indulgence of pluralism. His picture of Grotius’ philoso-
phy served as a foil against which he sought an accurate description of the modern
system of states and with which he confronts a view of an ideal order.

4. History of political thought

Historiography of political theory dismisses such juxtapositions as anachronistic
and recommends reading Grotius in his contemporary context. Accordingly, all
efforts to interpret history of thought coherently already mean constructing a the-
ory of its own. It is on this track that more attention is paid to other Grotian texts
and the sources from which they profited in order to reconstruct better the under-
lying assumptions of the principal tenets, contents, and methods of JBP.133 This
approach does not necessarily coincide, but is at times in harmony with a methodo-
logically realistic posture that stresses political power and economic interest as forces
that cannot be phased out when we deal with Grotian theory.134 As a consequence,

129  Martin Wight, International Theory: The Three Traditions, eds. Gabriele Wight and Brian Porter
(1991), p. 14; M. Wight, ‘Grotius’, in Gabriele Wight and Brian Porter (eds.), Four Seminal Thinkers
in International Theory: Machiavelli, Grotius, Kant, and Mazzini (2004), pp. 29–​61.
130  The fact that Bull’s taxonomy is not trivially schematic is stressed by Benedict Kingsbury, ‘A
Grotian Tradition of Theory and Practice?’ Quinnipiag LR 17 (1997), 3–​33. For a reconstruction, see
also Keene, Reception, pp. 135–​58 (n. 122); Jeffery, Grotius, pp. 124–​38 (n. 95).
131  Hedley Bull, ‘The Grotian Conception of International Society’, in Herbert Butterfield and
Martin Wight (eds.), Diplomatic Investigations (1966), pp. 51–​73.
132  Cf. Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of World Order in Politics (1995), pp. 8–​21,
75–​89 (quotation p. 8).
133  An example for such an approach is also Haggenmacher, Guerre juste, cf. pp. 549–​52 (n. 26).
134 Koskenniemi, Emergence (n. 25).
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Hugo Grotius 157

many recent studies are devoted to JP, which directs the interpretation towards an
understanding in the context of an expansive pursuit of trade interests.135 Against
this background Grotius figures as an illustration of the dilemma between apology
and utopia underlying all reasoning on international law.136 Lauterpacht’s ‘Grotian
tradition’ is thus an old-​fashioned ‘Victorian’ way of giving Grotius an unhistorical
and overly harmonious sense.137
Clearly, the warnings of creating a theory of their own making can also be directed
against historical and critical approaches.138 However, the merit of the constant
appeal to take the intellectual context and the risk of falling to partisanship more
seriously is twofold. Firstly, it helps to accept that JBP is not a non-​contradictory
whole that only has to be understood correctly by appropriate exegetic means or,
worse, by ex post reconstruction in an imagined relation to later thought. Thus,
it suggests that Grotius’ own claim to set out a ‘system’ does not have to be taken
too seriously, and to examine what it means for later ‘systems’ is more a construc-
tive than an analytical exercise. As a consequence, it is presumably inappropriate
to speak of a ‘Grotian tradition’ at all. The second point is related, in that readers
are encouraged to face the darker sides of Grotius more openly. It is difficult to tell
how much political opportunism and partisanship was in Grotius’ mind when he
wrote JBP. As to religion, however, the impact is probably deeper than the seculari-
zation narrative has it. Consulting theological texts opens a different view at the
universal reach of Grotian normativity, which is not only qualified by the claim that
Christianity disposes of the more profound reservoir for achieving higher standards
of morality and law, but is also underlain by irritating views on other religions
which do not lend themselves for a ‘liberal’ reading.139 In this context, the hope
that Christian states would enter a league against the enemies of Christianity (JBP
II 15, 12) is not in clear harmony with the irenic tune otherwise called for in JBP.

V.  Conclusion: System and Order in Grotius

What follows from this look at Grotius’ philosophy? Shall we conclude that Grotius
must be left to the historians? Contestable as it is, the look at Grotian connota-
tions to system and order shows at least the desire to see a normative sense in the

135  Despite passages where Grotius rejects the unwillingness to adopt the Christian faith (JBP
III 20, 48–​9) and the desire for conquest (JBP II 22, 3) as just causes for war (JBP II 20, 48–​9).
For reference, see above, Section II.1; cf. also contributions in Hans Blom (ed.), Property, Piracy and
Punishment: Hugo Grotius on War and Booty in De iure praedae (2009).
136  Martti Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia (1989). On ‘apologetic’ and ‘utopian’ readings of
DJ, see Eric Wilson, The Savage Republic: De Indis of Hugo Grotius, Republicanism, and Dutch Hegemony
within the Early Modern World System (c. 1600-​1619) (2008), pp. 235–​50, 479–​80.
137  On Lauterpacht’s picture of Grotianism, see Martti Koskenniemi, The Gentle Civilizer of Nations
(2002), pp. 408–​11.
138 Georg Cavallar, ‘Vitoria, Grotius, Pufendorf, Wolff and Vattel: Accomplices of European
Colonialism and Exploitation or True Cosmopolitans?’, J Hist IL 10 (2008), 181–​209.
139  See the quotes from The Truth of the Christian Religion (1627) in Haskell, Grotius, pp. 286–​8 (n. 37)
on Judaism and Islam.
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158 Stefan Kadelbach

interrelations between states. It has taken us to a vast array of conceptions that

are found in former designs, adapted by Grotius and analysed and projected with
varying focus by later reception and research. Uses of the Grotian idea of a system
related it to different contexts: a system of reasons for war, a system of international
law as a network of rights and duties independent of state will, a system of states and
its resemblances to Grotian ‘international society’, and a system of rights as one of
an economy protected by an expansive state.
The stated ambition expressed in JBP was to achieve the order of peace by a
system of laws on war. System and order in that sense form the brackets of JBP.
Intention, method, and sources let it appear as a backward utopia, both conserva-
tive and faithful in progress. The claim to unfold a system that is analogous to civil
law expresses the plan to translate the language of morals into the language of law.
Whether this claim holds in terms of consistency and scientific standards might
be an issue when it comes to the question of the function of a system for the unity
of law,140 but seems to have been less relevant to JBP than later systems architects
would be willing to accept. Rather, the ‘mathematic’ method to analyse the laws
of the time serves the purpose of keeping different grades of normativity apart and
thus of developing a (moderate) critical potential when law is confronted with
demands of morality. System and order are thus characterized by a relationship
of tension. If the lesson of Grotian studies is that there is no point in forcing the
effort to make a simple message of JBP, but to recognize that there are partisanship,
syncretism, inconsistencies, and shortcomings, a conciliatory resume could be just
that, and also to use ‘realist’ analysis as a tool to explore the prospect for innovation.

Selected Bibliography
Brett, Annabel, Changes of State: Nature and the Limits of the City in Early Modern Natural
Law (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2011).
Edwards, Charles S., Hugo Grotius –​The Miracle of Holland. A Study in Political and Legal
Thought (Chicago: Nelson-​Hall, 1981).
Haggenmacher, Peter, Grotius et la doctrine de la guerre juste (Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France, 1983).
van Ittersum, Martine Julia, Profit and Principle: Hugo Grotius, Natural Rights Theories and
the Rise of Dutch Power in the East Indies (1595-​1615) (Leiden: Brill, 2006).
Keene, Edward, Beyond the Anarchical Society:  Grotius, Colonialism and Order in World
Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
Koskenniemi, Martti, ‘International Law and the Emergence of Mercantile Capitalism:
Grotius to Smith’, in Dupuy, Pierre-​Marie and Chetail, Vincent (eds.), The Roots of
International Law –​Liber Amicorum Peter Haggenmacher (Leiden/Boston: Martinus
Nijhoff Publishers, 2014), pp. 3–​37.

140 Lauterpacht, Grotian Tradition, p. 17 (n. 90); Cornelius Murphy, ‘The Grotian Vision of World
Order’, AJIL 76 (1982), 477–​98, at 482; for a contemporary critique, see Grunert, Reception, pp. 92–​4
(n. 93).
 159

Hugo Grotius 159

Lauterpacht, Hersch, ‘The Grotian Tradition in International Law’, British Year Book of
International Law 23 (1946), 1–​53.
Nellen, Henk, Hugo Grotius: A Lifelong Struggle for Peace in Church and State, 1583-​1645
(Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2015).
Onuma, Yasuaki (ed.), A Normative Approach to War: Peace, War, and Justice in Hugo Grotius
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993).
Straumann, Benjamin, Roman Law in the State of Nature: The Classical Foundations of Hugo
Grotius’ Natural Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015).
Tuck, Richard, The Right of War and Peace: Political Thought and International Order from
Grotius to Kant (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999).
160

8
Orders in Disorder
The Question of an International State of Nature in Hobbes
and Rousseau

Jonas Heller

In the political philosophy of Hobbes and Rousseau, law and order are necessarily
linked concepts: Order denotes a political association which is founded and upheld
by law; law (in the sense of positive law) is established by a political order which
guarantees its legitimation and its enforceability. The focal point of their reflections
is order, not law: Hobbes and Rousseau ask how a good political order is possible,
and they are interested in law insofar as it is a means of such an order. If we want to
know about law, we have to start with order.
The order Hobbes and Rousseau are primarily concerned with is not interna-
tional. They both focus on the national order of the state and on the law enacted
and enforced by it. A state, however, is never alone. It is surrounded by other orders
and this means that, according to the perspective of Hobbes and Rousseau, it is sur-
rounded by enemies. If the international sphere is a sphere of hostility, the question
arises as to how an order can exist in such an environment: is international law and
order necessary, and is it even possible? The focal point here is, again, order and not
law. Hobbes and Rousseau, however, do not describe the international sphere as
order but as a state of nature between sovereigns. Thus, the question about inter-
national law arises in the context of their conception of a state of nature. In the
first section, (Section I) I deal with the characteristics of this international state of
nature. Its specifity consists in the fact that it is neither an order nor entirely beyond
order but a mixed (and hence disorderly) condition between order and disorder.
Thus, the relation of order and disorder plays a major role in this chapter. I examine
this relation at the point when a national order passes into disorder (Section II) and
when pre-​political disorder changes into national orders—​which is the beginning
of the international sphere (Section III). Between the orders constituting this sphere
there is, as indicated, a condition of war. This condition is evaluated very differently
by Hobbes and Rousseau. Whereas in Hobbes’ view there is no need for interna-
tional law and order, Rousseau considers an international legal framework neces-
sary for the establishment of any good order on a national level (Section IV.). This

Orders in disorder. The Question of a Sovereign State of Nature in Hobbes and Rousseau. Jonas Heller. ©
Jonas Heller, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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Hobbes and Rousseau 161

is why Rousseau, in contrast to Hobbes, extensively reflects about the possibilities
of bringing law and order into the international sphere. He is concerned with the
case of Europe at that time which constituted a ‘system’ of violence in his eyes. The
order which should replace this violent system takes shape as a (European) confed-
eration. Such a confederation is, according to Rousseau, necessary but utopian: he
considers it impossible that sovereign states could approve of an international legal
framework which would restrain their competences (Section V). Rousseau, how-
ever, states that a weak form of international law already exists in his time. The
reason why Rousseau observes international law where Hobbes does not, is not
that they lived in different centuries but rather that they have different concepts of
(international) law. I deal with these concepts (Section VI) before sketching the dif-
ferent lines of reception Hobbes and Rousseau have met (Section VII). The political
philosophy of Hobbes and Rousseau is a philosophy about peace; for peace is the
desired consequence of a good order which can only be established and perpetu-
ated by means of law. In their opinion, such an order can never be international.
As I argue in conclusion (Section VIII), this is the reason why international law
and order are not full-​fledged topics of their political thinking. Inevitable disorder
remains marginal within a philosophy engaged with the possibilities of peace.

I.  The Question of an International Disorder

in Hobbes and Rousseau

When we reflect about the international sphere in Hobbes and Rousseau, we reflect
about the state of nature. For it is a state of nature in which the relations of sovereign
states take place.1 In the political philosophy of both Hobbes and Rousseau, there
are three different situations denominated by this term. Firstly, the state of nature
is the situation before a sovereign state is founded. Secondly, the state of nature is
the situation which results from the dissolution of a sovereign state. And thirdly,
the state of nature is the international situation, the situation between sovereigns.
What is the characteristic which allows us to describe these three situations by the
same term? First of all, it is not true that they are all ‘natural’. This is eminently evi-
dent with regard to the international sphere: an international situation is no natural
condition as it presupposes states, and states are not naturally given but politically
founded. States establish a political sphere which is, as such, beyond nature.2 This

1 Cf. Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. Richard Tuck (1991), p.  90; Jean-​ Jacques Rousseau,
‘Discourse on the Origin and the Foundations of Inequality among Men’, in Victor Gourevitch (ed.),
The Discourses and Other Early Political Writings (1997), p. 174.
2  It is this difference between nature and politics that Hobbes makes in the first five sentences of the
introduction to his Leviathan. ‘Nature’ is here defined as the art of God whereby he has made (besides
the rest of the world) ‘the most excellent worke of Nature, Man’. The ‘State’ is built by imitating this
work of nature, and it is nothing else than ‘an Artificiall Man’. Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, p. 9 (n. 1). The
state (politics) is not nature because it imitates it. As an imitation it is not natural, but artificial. It is
exactly the imitation (of nature) which distinguishes politics from nature.
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162 Jonas Heller

political sphere is defined by the borders of the states. In Hobbes and Rousseau,
the sphere of politics is only within states—​it does not extend between them. Thus,
the international sphere is beyond politics. And it is for this reason that it is a state
of nature. In Hobbes and Rousseau, ‘nature’ first and foremost means nothing else
than ‘not within politics’.
Whereas a condition of politics is a condition of order, the state of nature is a
condition of disorder. To reflect about the state of nature means to reflect about
disorder. If we want to know about the international sphere, we have to ask what
kind of disorder it is and in what respect it differs from the other two situations of a
state of nature. First of all, we have to make clear how the notion of disorder is used
by Hobbes and Rousseau. The specific meaning of disorder helps to understand
why the state of nature (as a state of disorder) is radically distinct from the politi-
cal sphere. The notion of disorder is not used to describe a (defective) aspect, part,
or condition of a political situation but rather marks the point when a situation is
not yet political or not any more. ‘Disorder’ means that a situation as a whole is or
becomes unpolitical; and this is because the term ‘disorder’ denominates nothing
else than a discord which is not reconcilable with the existence of a political unity,
in other words:  with order.3 The relation between order and disorder is one of
exclusion. Between them, there is no liminal zone: Either you are within order or
you are within disorder. ‘Order’ and ‘disorder’ are radically distinct concepts used
to describe radically distinct situations of human coexistence.
The fact of an international sphere disrupts this distinction. The international
sphere is not totally beyond order. It is a disorder formed from orders (states). The
question about the international sphere is the question about this particular rela-
tion between order and disorder. It is the question how two situations which by
definition exclude each other can form a situation which is neither political nor
completely beyond politics.
This question is not only a problem of concepts but, as Rousseau points out, a
problem of lifeworld as well. It is the problem of living at the same time in order and
in disorder. The disruption in the distinction of the two concepts is experienced by
all the individuals subjected to a state. Rousseau says:
The first thing I notice, in considering the condition of the human species, is an open con-
tradiction in its constitution which causes it to vacillate incessantly. As individual men we
live in a civil state subject to laws; as people we each enjoy a natural liberty: this makes our
position fundamentally worse than if these distinctions were unknown. For living simulta-
neously in the social order [l’ordre social in the French text, J.H.] and in the state of nature
we are subjected to the inconveniences of both, without finding security in either.4

3  It is in this sense that Hobbes uses the notion ‘discord’ when talking about the ‘Intestine Discord’
which is a reason for the mortality of sovereignty. Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, p. 153 (n. 1). Since sovereignty
is the artificial soul which gives life to the whole body politic, cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, p. 9 (n. 1), ‘dis-
cord’ (as the end of sovereignty) is the death of this body or the time before its generation. In the same
sense—​as irreconcilable conflict—​but in regard to conflicts between states, Rousseau uses the French
term ‘discorde’ in his writing The State of War. Cf. Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, ‘L’état de guerre’, in Charles
E. Vaughan (ed.), The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, vol. I (1962), pp. 293–​307, at p. 296.
4 Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, ‘The State of War’, in Stanley Hoffmann and David P. Fidler (eds.),
Rousseau on International Relations (1991), pp. 33–​47, at p. 44.
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Hobbes and Rousseau 163

According to Rousseau, the contradiction of the international situation is a con-
tradiction between what individuals strive for and what they get. By founding a
state, they strive for security, and what they get is the insecurity of a mixed con-
dition between order and disorder which is worse than the disorder they left. As
I will show, Hobbes evaluates the consequences for the individuals differently, but
the fact of a mixed condition is the same. The contradiction Rousseau mentions
can be put in another form: the international disorder contains more than itself
because it is the relation between itself (as disorder/​state of nature) and the social
orders from which it is made. If we deal with the question of international disorder
we thus have to deal with the question of national order as well. If we detach the
international question from the domestic one, we at the same time lose track of
the philosophical approach of Rousseau and Hobbes. We have to consider what
Stanley Hoffmann pointed out in regard to Hobbes, Rousseau, and Kant:  ‘Any
sharp separation between their conceptions of human nature, of the state and of
the international milieu, destroys the unity of their philosophy.’5 As national orders
are the presupposition for an international situation, I want to start with them and
deal with them in the same respect which is relevant for the international situa-
tion: I will focus on the relation between order and disorder, between state and
state of nature—​not the international state of nature but the state of nature which
is entirely beyond politics. Given the fact that on a domestic level order and disor-
der are in a relation of mutual exclusion, they only get ‘in touch’ during the shift
from one to the other—​from disorder to order, or from disorder to order. Hobbes
and Rousseau are interested in the formation of orders. Thus, their focus is on the
transition from disorder to order, from the state of nature to the political society. As
the question of this chapter concerns disorder, I will focus primarily on the other
transition, the transition from order to disorder. It occurs when states fail.

II.  The Beginning of Disorder

In Hobbes and Rousseau, order is established all at once. The moment when poli-
tics begins, when the state is founded and the state of nature is left, is a juridical
moment, a moment of contract.6 Whereas it is obvious that the contractual foun-
dation of the state takes place in a single moment (not a real moment but a juridical
one), it is not as evident that the rise of disorder, the end of the state, occurs equally
abruptly. It is also possible—​and at a first glance it may seem even more plausible—​
to think of the decline of the state as a long process which leads from order to
disorder and which opens up a liminal zone between them. But if we look from the
perspective of Hobbes and Rousseau at the causes of disorder, we get a clear idea

5  Stanley Hoffmann, ‘Rousseau on War and Peace’, The American Political Science Review 57, 2
(1963), 317–​33, at 317. Equally argues Jean-​François Thibault, ‘Les relations internationales et la
crise de la pensée politique moderne selon Jean-​Jacques Rousseau’, Études internationales 37, 2 (2006),
205–​22, at 208.
6  Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, 16 (n. 1), and Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, ‘The Social Contract’, in Victor
Gourevitch (ed.), The Social Contract and Other Later Political Writings (1997), I, 6–​8.
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164 Jonas Heller

why according to them the failing of orders happens all at once, in a determinable
moment, and does not take place in a slow process. We first have to localize this
moment in the theories of Hobbes and Rousseau.
When Hobbes deals with the collapse of the commonwealth in his Leviathan,
he distinguishes dissolution by external violence from dissolution by ‘intestine
disorder’. He is interested in the latter because only the internal disorder can be
prevented by means of a rational formation of order (and can thus be subject of a
theory of such an order).7 Regarding the occurrence of internal disorder, ‘the fault
is not in men, as they are the Matter; but as they are the Makers, and orderers’ of the
commonwealth.8 What does it mean to see the fault in men as makers and order-
ers? It means to assume that men are capable to solve the problem of men as matter
by the formation of a good order.9 And this means to connect disorder with the
beginning of the state: internal disorder refers to the (failed) institution of order.
Consequently, Hobbes reckons ‘in the first place, those that arise from an Imperfect
Institution, and resemble the diseases of a naturall body, which proceed from a
Defectuous Procreation’10 among the infirmities of a commonwealth. If an order
fails and this failing is primarily rooted in the very moment of its formation, then
a real order has never been formed. If the orderers have failed in forming an order,
they actually were not orderers.
Similarly, in his Second Discourse Rousseau explicates the inconstancy of the
first political condition (état Politique) by referring to its wrongful institution. He
argues that it ‘always remained imperfect because it was almost a product of chance
and because, having begun badly, time revealed its flaws and suggested remedies
but could never repair the vices of the Constitution’.11 Rousseau takes account
of external causes of disorder as well; but like Hobbes he considers a ‘healthy and
strong constitution’ the ‘first thing to strive for’, not only in order to prevent inter-
nal causes of disorder but also in order to prevent the conquest by other states.12
He thus focuses on the ‘conditions for the institution of a people’,13 conditions
which have to be given in the moment when the state is founded.14 What if they
are not given? As order begins with a strong constitution, it is, again, as if order in

7 Hobbes, Leviathan, 29, p. 221 (n. 1). External causes receive attention only insofar as they can
be influenced by internal factors. Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, p. 118 (n. 1) where Hobbes discusses the
danger of attacks, i.e. external violence, and suggests an internal solution. He does so by stressing
the importance of adjusting the number of members of the own politcal society ‘by comparison with
the Enemy we feare’.
8 Hobbes, Leviathan, 29, p. 221 (n. 1).
9  Regarding Hobbes’ confidence in this human capability cf. Leo Strauss, Natural Right and History
(1976), p. 194.
10 Hobbes, Leviathan, 29, pp. 221f (n. 1).
11 Rousseau, Discourse, II, p. 175 (n. 1). Rousseau likewise argues in the Social Contract that it is
within men’s capacity ‘to prolong the State’s life as far as possible by giving it the best constitution it can
have’. Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, III, 11, p. 109 (n. 6).
12  Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, II, 9, p. 75 (n. 6).
13 Rousseau, Social Contract, II, 10, p. 77 (n. 6).
14  Rousseau’s French terms contrat and constitution are both related to the foundation of the state,
but they are not synonyms. Contrat refers to the unification of all individual forces which together
found the political society. The term constitution refers to the specific political form given to this society.
 165

Hobbes and Rousseau 165

the narrower sense had never begun. It is exactly this scenario of a not-​beginning
order which Rousseau describes in the second part of his Second Discourse: order
cannot begin because it is the opposite of what he considers as an ideal in his Social
Contract. Firstly, the political association as he describes it lacks legitimation as it
does not guarantee a free coexistence but establishes servitude.15 Secondly, the con-
stitution is not ‘healthy and strong’ (saine et forte) but extremely ‘weak’ (foible), as
there is an initial lack of conventions and a lack of authority to enforce them.16 And
finally, after the appointment of magistrates, their ambition and vanity impedes the
wealth of the people which is a declared purpose of the state.17 In this scenario, a
wrongful contract and a deficient constitution do not so much lead into disorder;
but rather the contract and the constitution are ever lacking force to establish what
can actually be considered as order: there is no decline from order into disorder and
no liminal zone between them because order has never begun.
In the Social Contract, however, Rousseau describes a different scenario: there is
an initially well-​working order (i.e. an order in the narrower sense) which changes
into disorder. According to Rousseau’s conception, a well-​working order is com-
posed of the following elements: there are the members of the people who on the
one hand enact laws as participants in the sovereign authority and who on the other
hand obey these laws as its subjects;18 and there are magistrates who govern, that is
who are charged with the execution of these laws.19 Order is upheld as long as the
sovereign authority, the subjects, and the magistrates fulfil their tasks. As soon as the
sovereign, the magistrate or the subjects transcend their given competences, order
stops and disorder follows: ‘If the Sovereign wants to govern, or the magistrate to
give laws, or the subjects refuse to obey, disorder replaces rule, force and will no
longer act in concert, and the dissolved State thus falls into despotism or anarchy.’20
In this scenario it is not appropriate either to talk of a decline in the sense of a
process leading from order to disorder. Disorder is not what destroys the rule from
the inside. It is not what causes the order to stop, it is what comes after it: disorder
succeeds the rule—​le désordre succède à la règle. When the state falls into despotism
or anarchy, it is already dissolved (dissous). The fact of disorder means that there is
no state any more. Disorder is not a messed order, it is not just misorder (as such
it would still be within order), but it is rather the condition when order has gone.
These passages in the texts of Hobbes and Rousseau can give a clearer notion of
the characteristics of a state of nature and its theoretical function. Firstly, the con-
ception of a state of nature as a state of disorder makes clear that the coexistence of
men does not necessarily have a political form. In On Revolution, Hannah Arendt

Cf. also the remarks of Heinrich Meier in Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, Discours sur l’inégalité, ed. Heinrich
Meier (6th edn, 2008), n. 271, pp. 224f.
15  Cf. Rousseau, Discourse, II, p. 173 (n. 1).
16  Cf. Rousseau, Discourse, II, pp. 175f (n. 1).
17  Cf. Rousseau, Discourse, II, pp. 181f (n. 1).
18  Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 6, p. 51 (n. 6).
19  cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, III, 1, p. 83 (n. 6).
20 Rousseau, Social Contract, III, 1, p. 83 (n. 6). Further descriptions of the end of the political entity
as the beginning of ‘disorder’. Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, III, 6, p. 97 and III, 10, p. 108 (n. 6).
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166 Jonas Heller

argues that exactly this insight is the reason why ‘the assumption of a prepolitical
state, called “state of nature”’ has not lost actuality: ‘Its relevance even today lies in
the recognition that a political realm does not automatically come into being wher-
ever men live together, and that there exist events which, though they may occur in
a strictly historical context, are not really political and perhaps not even connected
with politics.’21 Arendt stresses that the idea of a state of nature not only implies
the fact of non-​political events but of events which ‘perhaps’ do not even have a
connection with politics. Referring to Hobbes and Rousseau, I have described the
existence of such events beyond politics as ‘disorder’. Secondly, the passages quoted
above show that in Hobbes and Rousseau such events are not only disconnected
from politics, but moreover they imply the absence of a political sphere. Political
and non-​political events cannot take place simultaneously because they belong to
different phases. When one phase begins, it is because the other has ended.22 Arendt
explicitly mentions this radical separation of beginning and ending as well: ‘[T]‌he
hypothesis of a state of nature implies the existence of a beginning that is separated
from everything following it as though by an unbridgeable chasm.’23
The unbridgeable chasm, the border between politics and state of nature is,
according to Arendt, defined as occurrence of violence. In her German translation
which she published two years later (1965), Arendt writes that violence is only
able to protect the borders of the political realm; wherever violence invades politics
itself, politics has come to an end.24 Arendt also points out what has often been
noticed before and after her—​and with good reason: that it is not by a coincidence
that the conception of a state of nature was developed in the seventeenth century,
a period characterized by the violence of civil wars. What informed the reflection
about the state of nature was the threatening occurrence of a backfall from order to
disorder which the above quotations describe.
However, as mentioned before, it is not this backfall that Hobbes and Rousseau
were primarily interested in. And it is thus not the state of nature ‘as backfall’ which
they primarily focused on. They were both interested in the escape of disorder
by formation of orders. In this case, the state of nature is not a backfall, but an
(imagined) condition before politics. Whereas the state of nature as a backfall from
order shows the failing of the state (or, more precisely, that the state has failed), this
pre-​political state of nature is the reason for any foundation of a state. As such, the
pre-​political state of nature is of the greatest importance in the theories of Hobbes
and Rousseau. I will deal with the change from the pre-​political state of nature to

21  Hannah Arendt, On Revolution (1963), p. 10.

22 It is this separateness which Adorno and Horkheimer critically address in their Dialectic of
Enlightenment: ‘Men have always had to choose between their subjection to nature or the subjection of
nature to the Self.’ There was no third option between the domination of nature and the domination of
men—​with the result that domination is omnipresent. Cf. Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer,
Dialectic of Enlightenment (1999), p. 32.
23 Arendt, On Revolution, p. 10 (n. 21).
24  ‘Die Gewalt kann nie mehr, als die Grenzen des politischen Bereichs schützen. Wo die Gewalt in
die Politik selbst eindringt, ist es um die Politik geschehen.’ Hannah Arendt, Über die Revolution (4th
edn, 2014), p. 20.
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Hobbes and Rousseau 167

the sovereign state because the egress from this state of nature is the beginning of
another state of nature, the one within the international sphere: the foundation
of the sovereign state is in the same logical moment the ending and the beginning of
the state of nature, and it is a question of perspective—​domestic or international—​
how it is perceived.

III.  The Social Contract as Foundation

of an International State of Nature

In their political writings, Hobbes and Rousseau have a principal question in common.
This question is twofold: why is the state necessary and what can make it legitimate?
The state is necessary because the state of nature, a condition of coexistence beyond
sovereign power, is unbearable.25 In such a condition, there is no security because there
is ‘too much’ freedom: everyone’s life is threatened by everyone’s unlimited freedom.
The necessity of the state is the necessity to limit this original freedom. It is at this point
where the question of legitimation arises. Whereas the state is necessary because the
state of nature has to be left and freedom has to be limited, the question of legitimation
is about how freedom is limited. Consequently, the (imagined) moment when freedom
is limited takes centre stage. This moment is the entering of the political society by the
formation of the state. According to both Hobbes and Rousseau, this moment—​in
order to be legitimate—​requires a juridical form: a contract in which all future mem-
bers of the political society participate. The twofold question about the necessity and
the legitimacy of the state is unfolded by bringing two theoretic figures in a strong
alliance: state of nature and social contract.
There are, however, important differences between Hobbes and Rousseau con-
cerning the question of how the problems which necessitate the contract evolve and
how the contract is supposed to solve them. Hobbes presupposes a stable human
being which does not change either within the state of nature or within the political
society. It is characterized by the core faculties of physical force, experience, reason,
and passion.26 Because of the competition about honour and about goods which
cannot be shared, the coexistence of human beings is conflictual. Hobbes further-
more presupposes a natural ‘willingness to hurt each other’.27 Since he postulates
that the abilities of human beings are substantially equal, especially the ability to
kill each other, nobody can consider himself safe from harm while being in the state
of nature. The ubiquitary danger of a violent death makes self-​preservation impos-
sible.28 The political society does not eliminate this danger by changing human

25  Cf. Thomas Hobbes, On the Citizen, ed. and trans. Richard Tuck and Michael Silverthorne
(1998), I, 13, and 15; Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 6 (n. 6).
26  Cf. Hobbes, On the Citizen, I, 1, p. 21 (n. 25).
27 Hobbes, On the Citizen, I, 3, pp. 25f (n. 25).
28  Cf. Hobbes, On the Citizen, I, 13, p. 30 and 15, p. 31 (n. 25); Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 89 (n. 1).
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168 Jonas Heller

nature;29 it only establishes a ‘power able to over-​awe them all’.30 The sovereign
state guarantees security at the cost of the natural freedom.
Rousseau agrees that the purpose of entering the sphere of politics by the founda-
tion of the state is to guarantee self-​preservation. He also agrees that men do not
naturally aspire to a life within society. But he objects that men are naturally peace-
ful and characterized not by a willingness to harm but by pity.31 Unlike Hobbes
who imagines the state of nature as an unvarying state, Rousseau conceives it as
changing for the worse. The drive to compare oneself with others emerges only
in society which evolves—​caused by many coincidences—​already within the state
of nature. In Rousseau’s account of the state of nature in his Second Discourse, the
state of war (état de guerre32) results from the ‘[n]‌ascent Society’,33 and it is this
conflictual society which necessitates the foundation of a political body by con-
tract. The state of nature is not essentially unbearable but reaches a point when
self-​preservation becomes impossible.34 Rousseau is not only a ‘historical’ thinker
regarding the development within the state of nature. In his Social Contract, he
claims that ‘the transition from the state of nature to the civil state produces a most
remarkable change in man by substituting justice for instinct in his conduct, and
endowing his actions with the morality they previously lacked’; the moment of
contract transforms ‘a stupid and bounded animal’ into ‘an intelligent being and a
man’.35 However, the most important distinction from Hobbes’ conception of the
social contract consists in the fact that according to Rousseau men not only lose
their natural unlimited freedom but gain a ‘civil freedom’ instead.36 In contrast
to Hobbes, Rousseau’s aim is not only to develop a theory of a state which legiti-
mately guarantees security but of a state in which security is guaranteed while its
citizens who are part of the sovereign power remain as free as before (exactly because
they are part of the sovereign power).37 This difference has essential consequences
regarding the form of social contract in Rousseau and Hobbes. Hobbes’ contract
has the form of authorization. Everyone agrees with everyone else to give up their
right of governing themselves and to make themselves the authors of all acts of a
person or an assembly in order that this person or assembly undertakes all meas-
ures which appear appropriate to maintain peace and to guarantee the common
defense: ‘And he that carryeth this Person, is called Soveraigne, and said to have
Soveraigne Power; and every one besides, his Subject.’38 Whereas the subjects are

29  Cf. Hobbes, On the Citizen, I, 2, p. 25 (n. 25); Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 89 (n. 1).
30 Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 88 (n. 1).
31  Rousseau formulates his objection directly against Hobbes: ‘By reasoning on the basis of the
principles he establishes, this Author [Hobbes, J.H.] should have said that, since the state of Nature is
the state in which the care for our own preservation is least prejudicial to the self-​preservation of others,
it follows that this state was the most conducive to Peace and the best suited to Mankind.’ Rousseau,
Discourse, I, p. 151 (n. 1); cf. Rousseau, State of War, pp. 33f and 45–​7 (n. 4).
32 Rousseau, Discours sur l’inégalité, II, p. 212 (n. 14).
33 Rousseau, Discourse, II, p. 172 (n. 1).
34  Cf. Rousseau, Discourse, II, pp. 171–​3 (n. 1) and also Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 6, p. 49 (n. 6).
35 Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 8, p. 53 (n. 6).
36  Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 8, pp. 53f (n. 6).
37  Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 6, and 7 (n. 6).
38  Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, 17, pp. 120f (n. 1).
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Hobbes and Rousseau 169

excluded from sovereignty, this is not the case in Rousseau’s account in his Social
Contract. The form of contract in Rousseau is not authorization but alienation
(aliénation totale): the clauses of the contract ‘all come down to just one, namely the
total alienation of each associate with all of his rights to the whole community’.39
The public person formed by the union of all associates is called ‘Republic’ or ‘body
politic’. The individuals are both citizens (insofar as they are ‘participants in the
sovereign authority’) and subjects (insofar as they are ‘subjected to the laws of the
State’).40 In contrast to Hobbes, the political entities ‘subjects’ and ‘sovereign’ do
not include different individuals or groups. The fact that all associates of the body
politic are part of the sovereign and involved in the sovereign competence of legisla-
tion creates the civil freedom of the individuals as citizens.41 This including charac-
ter of the conception of sovereignty in Rousseau does not diminish its absoluteness.
Like Hobbes, Rousseau argues that the sovereign is bound to no law because he
cannot obligate himself.42
Even if the figure of contract differs in many ways, the fact of the contract and
its reasons open up a shared perspective. In this social contract theory perspective,
the contract draws an impervious line between a non-​or pre-​political sphere which
is before the contract and a political sphere which is after the contract. If a backfall
into the state of nature occurs, it is not a backfall into an original state of nature.
A civil war is not a ‘natural’ condition at all.
In the social contract theory perspective, the non-​or pre-​political sphere is of no
interest in its own right: it is as if what is before the contract had never existed.43
And indeed both Hobbes and Rousseau suggest that there was in fact no such time
as an original state of nature. They do not locate it somewhere in history, they do
not claim that it really happened.44 The state of nature is a fiction which makes the
idea of a radical beginning of politics possible—​thus a beginning which is empty,
not occupied by already existing social unjustice which could penetrate the political
form of the state.
Rousseau explicitly underscores the importance of an unburdened beginning
when he deals with the question of legislation: ‘What makes the work of legisla-
tion difficult is not so much what has to be established as what has to be destroyed;
and what makes success so rare is the impossibility of finding the simplicity of
nature linked with the needs of society. […] This is one reason why one sees few

39 Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 6, p. 50 (n. 6).

40  Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 6, pp. 50f (n. 6).
41  However, not every inhabitant ranks as a citizen. Rousseau quotes the example of the republic of
Geneva where there are five different orders of men whereof only two form the republic as the associa-
tion of citizens. Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 6, p. 51 (n. 6).
42 Hobbes, On the Citizen, VI, 14 (n. 25); cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 7, pp. 51f (n. 6); Robert
Derathé has pointed out that in Rousseau’s time the idea of absolute power meant the absence of any
constitutional restraints but not of any restraints at all; the exercise of sovereignty should still be limited
by the law of nature and the public good. The obvious question, then, is how operative such limita-
tions are. Cf. Robert Derathé, Jean-​Jacques Rousseau et la science politique de son temps (1950), pp. 339f.
43  There is no ‘before the contract’ because, as Hans Blumenberg points out, the contract has always
already been entered. Cf. Hans Blumenberg, Die Legitimität der Neuzeit (1996), p. 108.
44 Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 90 (n. 1); Rousseau, Discourse, I, Preface, p. 125 (n. 1).
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170 Jonas Heller

well-​constituted States.’45 Rousseau points to the following problem: men have lost
the simplicity of nature which consists in a pre-​social peaceful life; they have moved
towards a conflictual society which makes the state necessary. In order to be built
on a proper fundament, the state requires men in the ‘simplicity of nature’—​the
very simplicity of nature which has made the state necessary because it has been
lost. The institution of the state was possible when it was not needed (because men
lived peacefully) and became impossible when it was needed (because men lost their
peaceful nature).46 The decisive aspect of this aporetic situation is that the disorder
which makes the state necessary is socially produced. When Hobbes mentions that
the ‘Americans’ of his century and other peoples of the past were living the life of a
state of nature, he also assumes that they are not isolated individuals but members
of a community. He speaks of them as peoples [gentes in the original Latin version
of On the Citizen] and thereby acknowledges that they do not live the life of iso-
lated individuals.47 But this is not more than an implication, and it is the project
of Rousseau to explicitly elaborate, against Hobbes as well, the social genesis of dis-
order (as a result of inequality) in his Second Discourse. In this work, Rousseau puts
his assumption in an even more radical form: the disorder which makes a political
sphere necessary is neither caused by nature nor produced within a pre-​political
society. Rather, this disorder is itself a product of the political sphere: the laws of
this sphere are not just the remedy against disorder but its cause:
It has to be granted from the first that the more violent the passions, the more necessary are
Laws to contain them: but quite aside from the fact that the disorders and the crimes they
daily cause among us sufficiently prove the inadequacy of the Laws in this respect, it would
still be worth inquiring whether these disorders did not arise together with the Laws them-
selves; for then, even if they could repress them, it is surely the very least to expect of them
that they put a stop to an evil that would not exist without them.48
Rousseau here suggests that disorder is never natural or prepolitical. Disorder is
a result and not a presupposition of the political sphere. If the state of nature as
disorder is never natural, it only exists as a backfall from order and as the inter-
national sphere. Whereas the former is the end of the political state,49 the latter

45 Rousseau, Social Contract, II, 10, p. 78 (n. 6). The same argument can be found in the Second
Discourse where Rousseau praises Lycurgus who set ‘aside all the old materials […] in order afterwards
to erect a good Building’ in Sparta. Rousseau, Discourse, II, p. 175 (n. 1).
46  In a similar way, Rousseau refers to the paradoxical situation of the foundation of a political soci-
ety when he claims in the Second Discourse that ‘the same vices that make social institutions necessary
make their abuse inevitable’. Rousseau, Discourse, II, p. 182 (n. 1).
47  Cf. Hobbes, On the Citizen, I, 13, p. 30 (n. 25); Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 89 (n. 1).
48 Rousseau, Discourse, I, p. 155 (n. 1). As it becomes clear in the second part of the Second Discourse,
Rousseau’s argument against the law is that the law established with the political society primarily serves
the juridification of property which reinforces the evolving inequality. As all forms of inequality can
be reduced to riches (cf. Rousseau, Discourse, II, pp. 183f (n. 1)) and as inequality is the reason of the
collapse of the political society, the law is an essential contributory cause of the backfall into disorder.
Cf. Rousseau, Discourse, II, pp. 166f, 169, 171–​3 (n. 1).
49  Hobbes and Rousseau both stress that any state will inevitably dissolve some day as nothing
which is humanly produced can last forever. Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, 17, p. 120 and 29, p. 221 (n. 1);
Rousseau, Social Contract, III, 11, p. 109 (n. 6).
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Hobbes and Rousseau 171

is an everyday phenomenon. It begins in the very moment when states appear.
According to Rousseau, the formation of one political order is sufficient to provoke
an international sphere:
As soon as the first society is formed, the formation of all the others necessarily follows. One
has either to join it or to unite to resist it; to imitate it or let oneself be swallowed up by it.
Thus the whole face of the earth is changed; everywhere nature has disappeared; everywhere
human artifice takes its place.50
The international sphere is a side effect of the foundation of the state. It is a state of
war which goes along with the normality of the political sphere.

IV.  The International State of Nature as a Condition of War

Both Hobbes and Rousseau call the state of nature a ‘time of Warre’51 and an ‘état
de guerre’, respectively.52 There are three important characteristics in their concept
of war. Firstly, war is always bad.53 Secondly, war has some extension in time; it is
not the single event of a battle but a period. Thirdly, war in the proper sense is not
an affair between individuals.
Hobbes distinguishes the ‘actuall fighting’ from ‘the known disposition thereto’.54
War is this disposition, it is the ‘tract of time’55 in which the outbreak of actual
fighting is not utterly out of the question. This has never been the case between
individuals, but it is the permanent situation between sovereigns:
But though there had never been any time, wherein particular men were in a condition
of warre one against another; yet in all times, Kings, and Persons of Soveraigne authority,
because of their Independency, are in continuall 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 Kingdomes; and continuall Spyes
upon their neighbours, which is a posture of War. But because they uphold thereby, the
Industry of their Subjects; there does not follow from it, that misery, which accompanies the
Liberty of particular men.56

50 Rousseau, State of War, p. 36 (n. 4). Cf. also Rousseau, Discourse, II, pp. 173f (n. 1): ‘It is easy to
see how the establishment of a single Society made the establishment of all the others indispensable,
and how, in order to stand up to united forces, it became necessary to unite in turn.’
51 Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 89 (n. 1).
52  Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 89 (n. 1) and Rousseau, Discours sur l’inégalité, II, p. 212 (n. 14).
53  Simone Goyard-​Fabre points out that Hobbes rejects a non-​pessimistic idea of war: he neither
continues the tradition of ‘just war’ (Augustine, Thomas Aquinas) nor the tradition of war as art
(Machiavelli). Both Hobbes and Rousseau consider war not as a mission or a skill but just as a fact
which has to be averted if possible. Cf. Simone Goyard-​Fabre, Le droit et la loi dans la philosophie de
Thomas Hobbes (1975), pp. 62–​5.
54 Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, pp. 88f (n. 1). 55 Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 88 (n. 1).
56 Hobbes, Leviathan, 13, p. 90 (n. 1). Cf. as well Hobbes, On the Citizen, XIII, 7, p. 145 (n. 25):
‘For the state of commonwealths towards each other is a natural state, i.e. a state of hostility. Even when
the fighting between them stops, it should not be called Peace, but an intermission during which each
watches the motion and aspect of its enemy […]’.
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172 Jonas Heller

War is possible because of the independency of the sovereigns. They have not given
up their natural right and thus remain in the state of nature: not only towards other
sovereigns but towards their subjects as well. But this is not enough to explain why
there has never been ‘a condition of warre one against another’. What is lacking
between individuals is everything that is ‘continuall’—​and due to this lack, there
is no ‘condition’ between them and thus no war. This correlation becomes more
explicit in Rousseau. He argues that the (early) state of nature is no state of war not
only because men are timid, peaceful and endowed with pity but also because there
are no continuous relationships between private individuals.57 This is the reason
why there is no ‘true war between individuals’ but only between ‘public persons’,
i.e. sovereigns.58 Thus, Rousseau defines war as follows: ‘I call then war between
power and power59 the effect of a constant, overt, mutual disposition to destroy the
enemy state, or at least to weaken it by all the means one can. When this disposition
is transformed into action it is war properly called; in so far as it remains untrans-
formed it is only the state of war.’60 What is properly called ‘war’ presupposes a
constant disposition—​a state of war. In Hobbes and Rousseau, this leads to the
conclusion that the state of nature as a state of war has its only actual appearance in
the international sphere.
Hobbes and Rousseau agree in their distinction between a hypothetical state of
nature between individuals and a real state of nature in the international realm,
but they fundamentally disagree in their appraisal of the international condition
of war. In Hobbes’ view, the international state of war does not cause major prob-
lems. Admittedly, the formation of states causes the problem of an international
state of war but it is at the same time the principal part of minimizing its threats.
The purpose of the state is not only to guarantee ‘Peace at home’ but also to enable
mutual assistance against the ‘enemies abroad’.61 To save the citizens from both ‘for-
eign and civil war’ is the sovereign task.62 Apart from this, Hobbes claims that the

57  Cf. Rousseau, State of War, p. 35 (n. 4): ‘War is a permanent state which presupposes constant
relations; and these relations are a rare occurrence between men, for between individuals there is a
continual flux which constantly changes relationships and interests. Thus a matter of dispute rises and
disappears almost at the same moment; a quarrel begins and ends within a day; and one can have fights
and murders, but never, or very rarely, long enmities and wars.’
58 Rousseau, State of War, p. 41 (n. 4).
59  In the Social Contract which appeared six years later (1762) Rousseau uses the term ‘power’
[puissance] in order to describe the body politic ‘when comparing it to similar bodies’. Rousseau, Social
Contract, I, 6, p. 51 (n. 6). ‘Power’ is the term for bodies politic in the international perspective, whereas
‘sovereign’ denominates these bodies when perceived in their internal activity.
60 Rousseau, State of War, p. 40 (n. 4). 61  Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, 17, pp. 120f (n. 1).
62 Hobbes, On the Citizen, XIII, 6, p. 144 (n. 25). Robinson Grover stresses that the crucial dif-
ference between individuals in a state of nature and nations in a state of nature ‘is the shielding effect
of national institutions which interpose themselves between the international anarchy of sovereign
nations and the solitary citizen’. Robinson A. Grover, ‘Hobbes and the Concept of International Law’,
in Timo Airaksinen and Martin A. Bertman (eds.), Hobbes: War Among Nations (1989), pp. 79–​90,
at p. 88. Grover turns this argument against Hobbes’ conception of absolute sovereignty: if the states
can interpose themselves between the international anarchy and the individuals, why should it not
be possible to mitigate the individual state of nature by interposing other institutions between the
individuals, for example the law, the church, or the family (instead of a national absolute sovereign)?
In other words: if an absolute (super-​national) sovereign is not needed to protect the individuals in
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Hobbes and Rousseau 173

condition of war between sovereigns is less miserable than a state of nature between
individuals, as the industry of the subjects of a state is not infringed but upheld in
the international condition.
In his Second Discourse and his treatises about peace and war, Rousseau devel-
ops a dialectical perspective which is less conciliatory than the one of Hobbes. In
contrast to Hobbes, Rousseau points to the paradoxical situation caused by the
formation of the state. The unification of private individuals constitutes a new kind
of individuals ‘for with regard to foreigners it [the body politic, J. H.] becomes a
simple being, an individual’63. The unification causes a new division—​and this
division between public or national individuals produces a dimension of violence
hitherto unknown on earth: the ‘first discernible effects of the division of Mankind
into different Societies’ were wars between nations, battles, murders, and reprisals
‘that make Nature tremble’. The trembling of nature shows how far from nature
such a state of nature is, and how far it is from Rousseau’s hypothesis of an original
state of nature between individual men. This is because in the rising international
sphere ‘more murders were committed in a single day’s fighting, and more horrors
at the capture of a single town, than had been committed in the state of Nature
for centuries together over the entire face of the earth’.64 The foundation of states
here only causes the problem of war without providing a means to prevent its out-
break. This is also the radical conclusion Rousseau draws against Hobbes in his
essay about The State of War: ‘Far from the state of war being natural to man, war
springs from peace, or at least from the precautions that men have taken to ensure
a lasting peace.’65 The precautions consist in building political associations—​but
‘in joining a particular group of men, we have really declared ourselves the enemies
of the whole race’.66 The deadly irony lies not only in the fact that the prevention
of eventual private ‘wars’ produces actual wars between nations but that these wars
between nations are by far more disastrous than the wars one sought to prevent.
The difference between Hobbes and Rousseau is as drastic as it can be. Whereas
Hobbes consequently looks at the formation of the political society from the per-
spective of unification and peace, Rousseau—​at least in the Second Discourse, The
State of War, and The Abstract of Saint-​Pierre’s Project for Perpetual Peace—​looks at it

an international state of nature, why is an absolute (national) sovereign needed to protect them in an
individual state of nature? Cf. Grover, ‘Hobbes’, in Hobbes: War Among Nations, p. 89 (n. 62).
63  Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 7, p. 52 (n. 6). Georg Cavallar considers Rousseau’s account
of the state of nature between these public individuals as a ‘structural interpretation’ of Hobbes’
hypothesis of a state of nature between private individuals. Cf. Georg Cavallar, ‘Jean-​Jacques Rousseau’,
in Bardo Fassbender and Anne Peters (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law
(2012), pp. 1114–​17, at p. 1115. Indeed the similarity between Rousseau’s depiction of the destruc-
tive aspiration for power of the sovereigns and Hobbes’ depiction of the will of private individuals is
noticeable.
64 Rousseau, Discourse, II, p. 174 (n. 1).
65 Rousseau, State of War, p. 45 (n. 4). In the Abstract of Saint-​Pierre’s Project for Perpetual Peace,
Rousseau also blames the precautions against war as the cause of war. Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, ‘Abstract
and Judgement of Saint-​Pierre’s Project for Perpetual Peace’, in Stanley Hoffmann and David P. Fidler
(eds.), Rousseau on International Relations (1991), pp. 53–​100, at p. 54.
66 Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 54 (n. 65).
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174 Jonas Heller

from the perspective of division and war.67 According to Rousseau, the formation
of political societies does not give an answer to the question of war. It rather makes
this question relevant.68 This could explain why Rousseau, in contrast to Hobbes,
dealt extensively with the question of bringing order into the international sphere.
He did so in his Abstract and Judgement of Saint-​Pierre’s Project for Perpetual Peace.
I now want to outline the reasons why in Rousseau’s perspective such an interna-
tional order is preferable but impossible and which conclusions he draws from this
insight.

V.  Rousseau and the Question of Perpetual Peace

In his Abstract of Saint-​Pierre’s Project for Perpetual Peace, Rousseau only deals with
the international situation within Europe. The question of perpetual peace is a
European question. The vision of peace has its borders at the borders of Europe.
The relation between Europe and the rest of the world remains in a state of nature.
According to the Abstract, the European situation of war is more disastrous than
anywhere else—​not because there is unbridled disorder but because there is some
order in disorder. A balance [équilibre] of forces stabilizes the European condition
of war and makes it impossible to arrive at a decision which brings violence to an
end: ‘The present balance of Europe is just firm enough to remain in perpetual
oscillation without losing itself altogether; and, if our troubles cannot increase, still
less can we put an end to them, seeing that any sweeping revolution is henceforth
an impossibility.’69 In the French original text, Rousseau uses the term ‘système de
l’Europe’ which has a certain ‘degré de solidité’.70 The European states do not build
an order as order implies a situation of non-​violent coexistence.71 But neither are
they in mere disorder: although they are in a state of war, European sovereigns are
juridically, ethically, and religiously connected. These ties make it possible to talk of
a système: ‘C’est ainsi que toutes les Puissances de l’Europe forment entre elles une
sorte de système qui les unit par une même religion, par un même droit des gens,
par les moeurs, par les lettres, par le commerce, et par une sorte d’équilibre qui est
l’effet nécessaire de tout cela […].’72 The social bond which constitutes this system

67  Regarding this difference between Hobbes and Rousseau cf. also Thibault, ‘Les relations interna-
tionales’, in Études internationales, pp. 217–​20 (n. 5).
68  The question of foreign affairs is explicitly excluded from the reflections in the Social Contract. Cf.
Rousseau, Social Contract, IV, 9, p. 152 (n. 6).
69 Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, pp. 61f (n. 65).
70 Rousseau, ‘Extrait de la Paix perpétuelle’, in The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau,
pp. 364–​87, at p. 370 (n. 3).
71  It is in this sense of non-​violent, i.e. peaceful coexistence Rousseau uses the term ‘order’ in the
first sentence of the first book of his Social Contract when he speaks of the ‘civil order’ [l’ordre civil]. Cf.
Rousseau, Social Contract, Introduction, p. 41 (n. 6).
72  Rousseau, ‘Extrait de la Paix perpétuelle’, in The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, p. 366
(n. 3). ‘Thus the powers of Europe constitute a kind of a whole [in the French original: ‘système’, J.H.],
united by identity of religion, of moral standard, of international law; by letters, by commerce, and
finally by a species of balance which is the inevitable result of all these ties […].’; Rousseau, Abstract
and Judgement, pp. 55f (n. 65).
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Hobbes and Rousseau 175

remains imperfect but it is still tighter than the general knots of humanity, i.e. the
knots existing in a state of nature. Imperfect bonds, however, are worse than no
bonds at all—​a ‘system’ is worse than mere disorder.73
Whereas living in any state is bad because it combines the inconveniences of
the state of nature and of society, living in a European state is worse because the
European state of nature has a societal structure. The imperfection of this société74
causes a miserable situation. But it is exactly the existence of such imperfect social
bonds which could facilitate a European society in the form of a Confédération
which he calls République européenne.75 Only in this form of a real confederation
(Confédération réelle) would the European society be a true body politic (un vrai
Corps politique).76
The condition of a true body politic is a legal framework. First of all, the European
sovereigns would have to be willing to sign a treaty which declares their ‘perpetual
and irrevocable alliance’.77 At the heart of the confederation would be a tribunal
judiciaire78 which should establish the laws and regulations obliging all sovereign
members. Armed with a coercive power, the confederation would be able to enforce
its laws.79 According to Rousseau, it is this enforceability which is essential for law
to be law. In order to be legitimate, the law has to be enacted by an assembly of the
sovereign states which will be bound to this law. The question of an international
body politic—​which is, according to Rousseau, the only possibility of an inter-
national order—​and the question of legitimate law are intertwined: a body poli-
tic needs enforceable law, and enforceable law needs the approval of the members
of the political body. Rousseau argues that the common tribunal does not affect
the rights of sovereignty; sovereigns do not become less absolute, but instead their
crown will rather be assured.80
According to Rousseau, firstly there is no doubt that the confederation, once
established, would achieve its purpose to guarantee a lasting peace within Europe.
This peace would be peace in the strict sense (and not just a temporary truce which
is still a condition of war)81 as the eventuality of war would be out of the ques-
tion: ‘Let no one threaten us with a sudden invasion. It is perfectly obvious that
Europe has no invader to fear, and that the “first comer” will never come. The day of
those barbarian irruptions, which seemed to fall from the clouds, is gone forever.’82
Secondly, there is no doubt that the established confederation would be in the

73  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 67 (n. 65).

74  Rousseau, ‘Extrait de la Paix perpétuelle’, in The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, p. 374
(n. 70).
75  Cf. Rousseau, ‘Extrait de la Paix perpétuelle’, in The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau,
pp. 375f (n. 70).
76  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 67 (n. 65).
77  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 69 (n. 65).
78  Rousseau, ‘Extrait de la Paix perpétuelle’, in The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, p. 374
(n. 70).
79  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 68 (n. 65).
80  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, pp. 80f (n. 65).
81  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 60 (n. 65).
82 Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 84 (n. 65).
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176 Jonas Heller

interest of all sovereign states.83 At the end of his Abstract, Rousseau radicalizes this
second claim. He argues that an international peace is not only in the interest of the
states but that beyond such peace there is a total impossibility to establish a good
government.84 Rousseau, however, adds for consideration that there is one right
that sovereign states have to waive when entering the confederation: it is their right
to take measures against one of the members, i.e. their right to decide on war.85
In Rousseau’s perspective, this deprivation is the reason why a perpetual peace
within Europe is not achievable. This is his argument in his Judgement of Saint-​
Pierre’s Project for Perpetual Peace. The kings and those who serve them only aim at
two objects: ‘to extend their rule beyond their frontiers and to make it more absolute
within them’.86 Rousseau assumes that sovereign states are governed by individuals
who follow more their private than the public interest.87 And he makes clear that
the princes governing the states are not aware about what is best for them. Deluded
by appearances, they do not realize that their own interest (being rich and powerful)
is pursued by acting in the public interest.88 Instead of entering a federation, they
continue to conduct war. This is the reason why the project of perpetual peace in
Europe is desirable but will not be carried out without violent means: ‘No federation
could ever be established except by a revolution. That being so, which of us would
dare to say whether the league of Europe is a thing more to be desired or feared? It
would perhaps do more harm in a moment than it would guard against for ages.’89
In contrast to the Abbé de Saint-​Pierre, Rousseau is not a proponent of an inter-
national (European) order. International order would require an obliging legal
framework. As Rousseau considered such a framework as beyond reach, he could
only think of international order and peace as a wishful dream.90 But still, he admits
that there is some kind of international law. In a last step, I want to clarify why such
an international law is possible in Rousseau’s theory and why it is impossible in
Hobbes’ approach.

VI.  Can International Law Be Possible?

If we now deal with the question of international law, it is no longer a question

about international order (in the strict sense of order as implied by Hobbes and

83  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, pp. 71–​82 (n. 65).

84  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 86 (n. 65).
85 Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, pp. 69f and 76 (n. 65).
86 Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 90 (n. 65).
87  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 97 (n. 65).
88  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, pp. 92f and as well p. 82 (n. 65).
89 Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 100 (n. 65).
90  Olaf Asbach plausibly argues that there is also a structural reason why Rousseau does not advocate
an international order: it would necessarily curtail the autarky and independence of the political enti-
ties, and it is exactly the autarky and independence of small republics which is in the center of his politi-
cal philosophy. Cf. Olaf Asbach, ‘Staatsrecht und Völkerrecht bei Jean-​Jacques Rousseau. Zur Frage der
völkerrechtlichen Vollendung des Contrat social ’, in Reinhard Brandt and Karlfried Herb (eds.), Vom
Gesellschaftsvertrag oder Prinzipien des Staatsrechts (2nd edn, 2012), pp. 243–​71.
 17

Hobbes and Rousseau 177

Rousseau). Rousseau’s probably most dismissive reference to international law can
be found in The State of War: ‘As for what is commonly called international law,
because its laws lack any sanction, they are unquestionably mere illusions.’91
Because it lacks sanctions, the law of nations is not assured. In the case of con-
flict, it is not this law which is enforced but the ‘law’ of the stronger.92 This is
the principal deficiency of the existing international situation. Rousseau puts it
first in the summary at the end of his Abstract: ‘Nul droit assuré que celui du plus
fort.’93 No assured law except that of the stronger. Rousseau points out in the Social
Contract that the law of the stronger actually is no law.94 Pure enforceability (the
fact of sanction) does not create law. Law always needs legitimation and the crite-
rion of legitimation, according to Rousseau, is the same in the international sphere
as in the domestic one: those obliged by the law have to approve it, in other words,
they have to participate in the legislation process. Regarding the international law
of his time, Rousseau not only criticizes a lack of enforceability but also a lack of
legitimation. He does so when considering the public law of Europe (le Droit public
de l’Europe): it has not been established or authorized in concert (‘n’étant point
établi ou autorisé de concert’).95 This is the second deficiency. The third deficiency
is that the law of nations is not based on general principles and that it varies cease-
lessly in the course of time and from place to place. It is therefore riddled with con-
tradictions which, again, are only solved by the force and in favour of the stronger.96
Due to these deficiencies, the law of nations which takes shape as a public law of
Europe lacks legal character. This is why Rousseau states that the laws of what is
called ‘law of nations’ (Droit des gens) are only illusions. And still it is this common
law of nations which, lacking systematicity in itself, contributes to the cohesion of
Europe as an (imperfect) système.97 Together with religion, morals, and commerce
it establishes interstate relations which are beyond a political federation. Rousseau
describes the efficacy of these relations as less apparent but not less real.98 The for-
mation of the law of nations takes place silently and it only consists in ‘a few tacit
conventions’.99 We can conceive the term ‘tacit’ as ‘not explicitly approved within a
legislation process’. As such, the law of nations is not part of the political sphere—​
and consequently not part of Rousseau’s political philosophy in the narrower sense.

91 Rousseau, State of War, p. 44 (n. 4); Rousseau, ‘L’état de guerre’, in The Political Writings of Jean
Jacques Rousseau, p. 304 (n. 3): ‘Quant à ce qu’on appelle communément le droit des gens, il est certain
que, faute de sanction, ses lois ne sont que des chimères plus faibles encore que la loi de nature.’
92  The term that Rousseau uses for the law of nations is Droit/​droit des gens (cf. n. 91 and Rousseau,
Discourse, II, p. 174 (n. 1)). This droit des gens is powerless against the droit du plus fort, the law/​right
of the stronger.
93  Rousseau, ‘Extrait de la Paix perpétuelle’, in The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, p. 385
(n. 70).
94  Cf. Rousseau, Social Contract, I, 3, p. 44 (n. 6).
95  Cf. Rousseau, ‘Extrait de la Paix perpétuelle’, in The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau,
p. 369 (n. 70); for the English translation cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 60 (n. 65).
96  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 60 (n. 65).
97  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, pp. 55f (n. 65).
98  Cf. Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 55 (n. 65).
99 Rousseau, Discourse, II, p. 174 (n. 1).
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178 Jonas Heller

In Hobbes, there is no such weak form of international law. In his account, the
international sphere (which is beyond all kind of system and cohesion) is an empty
space from a legal point of view. This is due to the strict concept of law that Hobbes
establishes when dealing with ‘civil laws’ or ‘laws of the commonwealth’:  ‘Civil
laws (to define them) are nothing other than commands about the citizens’ future
actions from the one who is endowed with sovereign authority [summa potestas].’100
Sovereignty is the presupposition for law; as only sovereigns can enact laws, there is
no law beyond sovereignty.101 This is the reason why there is only (domestic) civil
law and no international law. As long as there is no overarching sovereign in the
international sphere, that is to say as long as there is a plurality of sovereign states,
there is no possibility of international law. In contrast to Rousseau, the idea of
international law and the idea of sovereign states exclude each other in a Hobbesian
conception of law. The relations between sovereigns are only characterized by an
unrestrained natural right. Without any restraint of this right (which can only be
achieved by the enactment of laws) ‘there cannot possibly be any Peace’.102 But
when Hobbes claims that the law ‘which is commonly called the Law of Nations’ is
‘the same thing’ as the law of nature, he does not claim that sovereigns are exempt
of all duties.103 The law of nature demands to seek peace. This applies to individuals
and to ‘Soveraign Princes, and Soveraign Assemblies’ alike—​even though there is
no other ‘Court of Naturall Justice’, but the conscience and the legal character of
such a court is doubtful.104
Whereas in the final analysis Hobbes and Rousseau agree that there is no effec-
tual international law, they disagree about the value of an eventual international

100 Hobbes, On the Citizen, VI, 9, p. 79 (n. 25). Cf. as well Hobbes, Leviathan, 26, pp. 183 and
200 (n. 1). M. M. Goldsmith classifies Hobbes not only as ‘a command theorist’ but also as a ‘legal
positivist’. Hobbes fulfils two conditions of legal positivism: on the one hand, the validity of law is not
attached to general principles of morality, justice, or rationality; on the other hand, laws and authori-
ties are organized hierarchically and integrated in a system which is closed by a supreme authority. Cf.
M.M. Goldsmith, ‘Hobbes on Law’, in Tom Sorell (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Hobbes (1996),
pp. 274–​304, at p. 275 and p. 278.
101  This is also the basis of Hedley Bull’s assumption of an international anarchy:  according to
Hobbes, what is called the law of nations is not law in the proper sense (not positive law) but just the
law of nature (prudential rules of self-​preservation). Insofar as there is no central authority, the inter-
national sphere remains anarchic—​which is, Bull argues, not only true for Hobbes’ time but for the
time of Bull’s own article as well. On the other hand, Bull points out that Hobbes’ account neglects
all the legal and non-​legal relations and cooperations between states which already existed in Hobbes’
time and which are extended today. Cf. Hedley Bull, ‘Hobbes and the International Anarchy’, Social
Research 48, 4 (1981), 717–​38, at 723 and 736f.
102 Hobbes, Leviathan, 26, p. 185 (n. 1).
103  Noel Malcolm insists that Hobbes considers international law to be law precisely because he
identifies it with the law of nature: as distinct from civil law, international law qualifies as law not
by being positive law but by being ‘directly derived from (or identical with) natural law’. It is for this
reason that Malcolm refuses to align Hobbes with the tradition of legal positivism. Cf. Noel Malcolm,
Aspects of Hobbes (2004), pp. 439f. For a critique of Malcolm’s argument cf. Benedict Kingsbury and
Benjamin Straumann, ‘State of Nature versus Commercial Sociability as the Basis of International
Law: Reflections on the Roman Foundations and Current Interpretations of the International Political
and Legal Thought of Grotius, Hobbes and Pufendorf ’, in Samantha Besson and John Tasioulas (eds.),
The Philosophy of International Law (2010), pp. 33–​51, at pp. 44f.
104 Hobbes, Leviathan, 30, p. 244 (n. 1).
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Hobbes and Rousseau 179

order and a forceful international law. As I will show in the next step, the agreement
and the disagreement of Hobbes and Rousseau are reflected in their reception: con-
cerning their descriptive account, they have mainly been received as representatives
of the same direction; concerning their normative claims, they have been sorted in
different traditions.

VII.  Remarks about the History of Reception

Considering the history of the reception of Hobbes and Rousseau, we can dis-
tinguish between two questions: how have Hobbes and Rousseau been classified
regarding their appraisal of international law? How have they influenced important
normative positions regarding the question of international law?
Concerning the question of classification, both Hobbes and Rousseau have pre-
dominantly been considered as precursors of ‘realism’ because they both charac­
terize the international sphere as a condition of war.105 In other words, they have
been considered ‘realists’ because they did not advocate a legal framework which
makes international cooperation possible.106 The objections against this ‘realist’
interpretation (regarding Hobbes) are based on an understanding of natural law as
a law ‘in its own right’, a law which is binding despite the lack of enforceability107
and (regarding Rousseau) on the emphasis that Rousseau developed elements and
fragments of an ideal theory of supranational organization which he, however, never
elaborated in a book.108 Even though both Hobbes and Rousseau have mainly been
classified as precursors of ‘realism’, their influence on later positions has been very
different. I only want to mention two positions—​one drawing on Hobbes and one
on Rousseau—​in order to illustrate the different directions of reception.
Hobbes’ conception of war as a disposition to fight together with the Hobbesian
relation of protection and obedience are the core of Carl Schmitt’s The Concept of the
Political.109 This book (published in 1932) is prominent in the debate until today.
Schmitt argues that ‘the real possibility of war’ is the condition of the existence of
states. If there is no disposition to fight, there is no longer any friend and enemy

105  Regarding Hobbes cf. the list of authors classifying Hobbes as ‘realist’ in Malcolm, Aspects of
Hobbes, pp. 432–​5 (n. 103); regarding Rousseau cf. Cavallar, ‘Jean-​Jacques Rousseau’, in The Oxford
Handbook of the History of International Law, p. 1116 (n. 63).
106  Simone Goyard-​Fabre has called this the ‘silence’ of Rousseau and Hobbes. Cf. Simone Goyard-​
Fabre, ‘Les Silences de Hobbes et de Rousseau devant le droit international’, Archives de philosophie du
droit 32 (1987), 59–​69, and Simone Goyard-​Fabre, ‘La guerre et le droit international dans la philoso-
phie de Rousseau’, Études Jean-​Jacques Rousseau 7 (1995), 45–​78.
107  This is, as mentioned, also the prominent argument in Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, pp. 439f
(n. 103).
108  Francis Cheneval calls this Rousseau’s ‘unfinished’ or ‘unwritten’ doctrine. Cf. Francis Cheneval,
Philosophie in weltbürgerlicher Bedeutung. Über die Entstehung und die philosophischen Grundlagen des
supranationalen und kosmopolitischen Denkens der Moderne (2002), pp. 365 and 390. Rousseau outlines
the structure of such a book about the relations between political societies in Emile or On Education,
trans. by Allan Bloom (1979), pp. 466f.
109  Cf. Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political, trans. by George Schwab (2007), p. 52.
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180 Jonas Heller

grouping, which means, according to Schmitt, that there is no state any more. A
global organization of states which could preclude the possibility of war is tanta-
mount to the nonexistence of states. The realization of a league of nations is thus,
according to Schmitt, the end of the political sphere.110
This question of a league of nations is the most important starting point of one
of the most prominent receptions of Rousseau. In the seventh proposition of his
Idea for a Universal History from a Cosmopolitan Perspective, Kant remarks that
‘Rousseau’s preference of the state of savages was not all that far off the mark, that
is, if one leaves out this last stage, which our species has yet to surmount.’111 What
Kant calls ‘this last stage’ is the federation of states (Staatenverbindung). Kant tack-
les exactly the problem which Rousseau had in mind: ‘The problem of establish-
ing a perfect civil constitution is dependent upon the problem of a law-​governed
external relation between states and cannot be solved without having first solved the
latter.’112 Rousseau noticed this problem and made it explicit but yet focused on
a strong national constitution as the first thing to strive for. In Toward Perpetual
Peace, Kant stresses the importance of an ‘internal legal constitution’113 as well.
For without a juridical condition (i.e. without states), there is no public law and
thus no possibility for a federation which, like in Rousseau, can only exist in an
international legal framework.114 The only aim of such a federation is to guarantee
peace since any other purpose would restrain the freedom of its members.115 The
crucial difference between Rousseau and Kant is not that Kant considers such an
ideal federation as attainable whereas Rousseau does not, but that Kant focuses
on the federation and on perpetual peace as a condition which cannot be fully
achieved in a single moment of contract but which has to be pursued ‘in the form
of an endlessly progressing approximation’.116 It is not surprising that regarding
the normative question of how an international legal order should look like, the
reference to Rousseau and Kant has been much more frequent than the reference
to Hobbes—​even though Kant’s position in Toward Perpetual Peace shares many of
Hobbes’ premises.117

110  Cf. Schmitt, Concept, p. 55 (n. 109).

111  Immanuel Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History from a Cosmopolitan Perspective’, in Pauline
Kleingeld (ed.) and David L. Colclasure (trans.), Toward Perpetual Peace and Other Writings on Politics,
Peace, and History (2006), pp. 3–​16, at p. 12. Cf. as well in this volume the contribution by Vischer.
112 Kant, Idea for a Universal History, p. 9 (n. 111).
113  Cf. Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch’, in Toward Perpetual Peace, pp. 67–​
109, at p. 80 (n. 111).
114 Kant, Toward Perpetual Peace, p. 107 (n. 113).
115  Cf. Kant, Toward Perpetual Peace, pp. 107f (n. 113). Regarding Kant’s reception of Rousseau’s
idea of a necessary nexus of freedom on the one hand and legal condition on the other cf. Ernst Cassirer,
Das Problem Jean Jacques Rousseau (1970), pp. 18f.
116  Cf. Kant, Toward Perpetual Peace, p. 109 (n. 113). It is because of his ideal of a federation and
his idea of an endless approximation that Kant has been classified as ‘anti-​realist’. Cf. Pauline Kleingeld,
‘Immanuel Kant’, in The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law, pp. 1122–​6, at p. 1124
(n. 63).
117  Two important premises are a) the crucial difference between war as a single event of a battle and
war as a lasting condition, and b) the relation of protection and obedience within the state. Cf. Kant,
Toward Perpetual Peace, pp. 79 and 105f (n. 113).
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Hobbes and Rousseau 181

VIII.  Conclusion: National Orders in International Disorder

Peace in the sense of a condition in which the eventuality of war is excluded is not
possible within the international sphere, neither in the theory of Hobbes nor in the
theory of Rousseau. In both Hobbes and Rousseau, the condition of peace presup-
poses a political order established and maintained by means of law. ‘Order’, ‘peace’,
and ‘law’ are necessarily linked concepts. Whereas these concepts are pivotal in
Hobbes’ and Rousseau’s philosophy of the state, there is no reference point for these
concepts in their understanding of the international sphere. In their perspective,
the international sphere cannot be peacefully handled and it is for this reason that it
does not play a major role in their political philosophy. In his Judgement, Rousseau
criticizes Saint-​Pierre for having chosen the wrong means: international peace can-
not be ‘set up by a book’.118 The peaceful federation could only be founded ‘by the
violent means from which humanity must needs shrink’.119 The political philoso-
phy of Hobbes and Rousseau is about the necessity and legitimation of the foun-
dation of a national political order. According to Rousseau, the foundation of an
international political order cannot have a legitimate form; according to Hobbes,
the foundation of an international political order is not necessary. Thus, such an
order is for Hobbes as well as for Rousseau—​for different reasons but in equal
measure—​out of the question. As a result, the international sphere remains in a
state of disorder. To deal with this disorder is not an international task but the task
of national orders. The task of political philosophy, as Hobbes and Rousseau under-
stand it, is to elaborate the preconditions and fundaments of an order which is able
to accomplish this task: as there is no international politics, international peace is a
national responsibility.

Selected Bibliography
Goyard-​Fabre, Simone, ‘La guerre et le droit international dans la philosophie de Rousseau’,
Études Jean-​Jacques Rousseau 7 (1995), 45–​78.
Grover, Robinson A., ‘Hobbes and the Concept of International Law’, in Timo
Airaksinen and Martin A. Bertman (eds.), Hobbes: War Among Nations (Aldershot and
Brookfield: Gower, 1989), pp. 79–​90.
Hobbes, Thomas, On the Citizen, ed. and trans. Richard Tuck and Michael Silverthorne
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998).

118  This conviction (and not modesty) may be the reason why Rousseau explicitly refused to choose
a title for his Abstract and Judgement which would have connected his person directly with the project
of a perpetual peace within Europe: ‘A l’égard du titre, je ne puis consentir qu’il soit changé contre
un autre qui m’approprieroit davantage un Projet qui ne m’appartient point.’ Jean-​Jacques Rousseau,
Friedensschriften, trans. and ed. Michael Köhler (2009), p. 8. The full title of the Abstract is: ‘Extrait du
projet de paix perpétuelle de Monsieur l’Abbé de Saint-​Pierre. Par J.J. Rousseau, Citoyen de Genève’.
Cf. Rousseau, Friedensschriften, p. 2 (n. 118).
119 Rousseau, Abstract and Judgement, p. 100 (n. 65).
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182 Jonas Heller
Kant, Immanuel, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch’, in Pauline Kleingeld
(ed.) and David L. Colclasure (trans.), Toward Perpetual Peace and Other Writings on
Politics, Peace, and History (New Haven/​London: Yale University Press, 2006), pp.
67–​109.
Malcolm, Noel, Aspects of Hobbes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004).
Rousseau, Jean-​Jacques, Extrait de la Paix Perpétuelle, in Charles E. Vaughan (ed.), The
Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, Volume I (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1962), pp.
364–​87.
Strauss, Leo, Natural Right and History (Chicago/​London:  The University of Chicago
Press, 1976).
 183

9
The International Legal Argument in Spinoza
Tilmann Altwicker*

I. Introduction

Living in Amsterdam in the seventeenth century—​‘arguably one of the most cos-

mopolitan and transnational environments on the globe at the time’1—​it is not sur-
prising that Spinoza wrote about international relations and international law. It is
worthwhile reconstructing his international legal argument as he does not develop
a remote ideal of an international order, but instead aims to provide an explanation
of why states are compelled to co​operate internationally.
There are only few references to Spinoza in the current theory of international
relations and international law.2 To many, Spinoza’s contribution to the field
seems merely a reflection of the ‘Westphalian law’ that needs to be sharply dis-
tinguished from an international legal order based on common ethical values.3
Under ‘Westphalian law’, international law was unconcerned with universal val-
ues as causes for action (war, peace, agreements etc.).4 During Spinoza’s lifetime

* This contribution is based on my earlier study on ‘Spinozas Theorie der internationalen

Beziehungen’, in Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, and Manfred Walther (eds.), Spinoza, Politischer
Traktat: Ein Kommentar (2014), pp. 67‒77. I am grateful to Alexandra Hansen and Nuscha Wieczorek
for excellent research assistance.
1  Cesare Casarino, ‘Marx before Spinoza: Notes toward an Investigation’, in Dimitris Vardoulakis
(ed.), Spinoza Now (2011), pp. 179, 191.
2  Other than in the beginning of the twentieth century, Spinoza’s theory of international law rarely
receives attention today: Hersch Lauterpacht, ‘Spinoza and International Law’, The British Yearbook
of International Law 8 (1927), 89–​107; Adolf Menzel, ‘Spinoza und das Völkerrecht’, Zeitschrift für
Völkerrecht 2 (1908), 17–​30; Alfred Verdross, ‘Das Völkerrecht im Systeme von Spinoza’, Zeitschrift
für öffentliches Recht (1928), 100–​5. For recent studies see Francis Cheneval, ‘Spinozas Philosophie der
internationalen Beziehungen’, in Marcel Senn and Manfred Walther (eds.), Ethik, Recht und Politik bei
Spinoza (2001), pp. 195–​208; Manfred Walther, ‘Natural Law, Civil Law, and International Law in
Spinoza’, Cardozo Law Review 25 (2003), 657–​65; Altwicker, Tilmann, ‘Spinozas Theorie der interna-
tionalen Beziehungen’, in Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, and Manfred Walther (eds.), Spinoza,
Politischer Traktat: Ein Kommentar (2014).
3  For example, Oscar Schachter writes that ‘Spinoza, the great rationalist, urged states to give their
highest priority to increasing their power’, ‘The Role of Power in International Law’, Proceedings of the
Annual Meeting (American Society of International Law) 93 (1999), 200.
4  See Martti Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia: The Structure of International Legal Argument
(2005), p. 94 (stating that in the Peace of Westphalia it was recognized that ‘even the possible existence
of universal values was not a sufficient casus belli’).

The International Legal Argument in Spinoza. Tilman Altwicker. © Tilman Altwicker, 2017. Published
2017 by Oxford University Press.
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184 Tilmann Altwicker

and until the late nineteenth century, ‘international law’ was equated with the jus
publicum Europaeum, the European public law governing the relations between
Christian sovereigns that allowed the particular national interest to function as
a legitimate reason to go to war.5 When the Tractatus Politicus (Political Treatise,
referred to hereafter in this chapter as TP)6 was first published (posthumously)
in 1677, the ‘Peace of Westphalia’ barely dated back some thirty years. It was the
peace treaty of Munster and Osnabruck in 1648 that confirmed the sovereignty of
the European powers for the first time. ‘Sovereignty’ became the central concept
of the Westphalian era, reflecting the new self-​perception of European powers. The
modern concept of sovereignty that evolved in the fifteenth and sixteenth centu-
ries referred to the supreme command (summa potestas) that rested with the sov-
ereign rulers (and later became an attribute of the state).7 ‘Westphalian law’, thus,
stands for the idea of a conception of international law based on sovereign political
units and the rejection of the far older conception of a universal society (societas
humana).8
At a first glance, Spinoza’s treatment of international relations in Book III of the
TP appears indeed to provide merely a realist account of the world of diplomacy
in his day. A realist interpretation could be easily squared with Spinoza’s intention
voiced at the beginning of the TP not to suggest ‘anything that is novel or unheard
of, but only to demonstrate by sure and conclusive reasoning such things as are
in closest agreement with practice’.9 Accordingly, many commentators (Gustav
Adolf Walz, Arthur Nussbaum, and, more recently, Cornelius Murphy) have con-
sidered Spinoza—​along with Thomas Hobbes—​to be a classical ‘denier’ of inter-
national law.10
Others have underscored that Spinoza’s denial of binding international law
is inconsistent with his political philosophy. It is claimed that had he been
consistent with his own basic assumptions, he should have accepted the legal
bindingness of at least some international treaties. For example, Charles Edwyn
Vaughan claims that Spinoza did not sufficiently distinguish between non-​bind-
ing treaties such as peace treaties dictated by the victorious party or pacts of
aggression on the one hand, and binding defensive pacts or trade agreements on

5 Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia, p. 94 (n. 4).

6  Baruch Spinoza, Political Treatise, trans. Samuel Shirley (2000).
7  On the concept of sovereignty see the seminal study by Helmut Quartisch, Entstehung und
Entwicklung des Begriffs in Frankreich und Deutschland vom 13. Jh. bis 1806 (1986).
8 Gerry Simpson, ‘International Law in Diplomatic History’, in James Crawford and Martti
Koskenniemi (eds.), The Cambridge Companion to International Law (2012), pp. 25, 31.
9  TP 1/​4, p. 35.
10  Arthur Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (1947), pp. 18–​26; Cornelius F.
Murphy, ‘The Grotian Vision of World Order’, AJIL 76 (1982), 477, 484; G.A. Walz, Wesen des
Völkerrechts und Kritik der Völkerrechtsleugner (1930), pp. 18‒26 (‘Yes, one can say that the radical
denial of international law in the Western legal philosophical literature after the epoch-​making work
of Grotius, proclaiming the legal nature of international law, occurs for the first time with full clarity
in Baruch Spinoza.’) On Grotius see the contribution by Kadelbach, on Hobbes see the contribution
by Heller (in this volume).
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Spinoza 185
the other hand.11 For Vaughan, the latter are binding as they pursue just aims.12
Similarly, Hersch Lauterpacht argues that, given the raisons d’être Spinoza devel-
oped for the state, he should have also claimed that international defensive pacts
are binding.13 In a context of prima facie hostile neighbouring states, defensive
pacts guarantee the conditions of individual self-​preservation. Then, on the basis
of his political theory, Spinoza should have assumed their legal bindingness.
According to Lauterpacht, the absence of any notion of binding international
law in Spinoza’s theory reflects the reality of international relations in the seven-
teenth century.
In contrast, other commentators (Alfred Verdross, Adolf Menzel, and more
recently, Francis Cheneval and Manfred Walther) claim that Spinoza indeed
recognized the bindingness of international law.14 Their conclusion is that
Spinoza’s account of international relations must be understood as a precursor
to a consensus-​based society of states bound by international law. For example,
early on Adolf Menzel argued that ‘from the remarks in paragraphs 15 and
16 of the Political Treatise emerges a new point of view which seems suitable
to modify the previous statements [on the non-​bindingness of international
treaties, T.A.]. It opens up the possibility, at least prospectively, to form a com-
munity of states, which sets a barrier to the arbitrariness and the egoism of
individual states’.15
In this chapter, it is argued that Spinoza is far from being a ‘denier’ of international
law. Instead, it is shown that Spinoza offers a nuanced argument for why states are
compelled to cooperate with one another in the form of international law. The argu-
ment is developed as follows: Section II outlines Spinoza’s realist starting point which
can be called the ‘international state of nature’. Section III reconstructs—​draw-
ing on his ethical and ontological theory outlined in the Ethica Ordine Geometrico
Demonstrata (Ethics, E)16 and in the Tractatus Theologico-​Politicus (Theological-​
Political Treatise, referred to hereafter in this chapter as TTP)17 —​Spinoza’s interna-
tional legal argument, i.e. the conditions that must be fulfilled for international law
to exist. Section IV condenses and generalizes Spinoza’s international legal argument
in the form of three analytical concepts (normativity of international law, being a
state sui juris and the concept of international cooperation). Section V concludes by
outlining Spinoza’s lasting contribution to the theory of international relations and
law.

11  Charles Edwyn Vaughan, Studies in the History of Political Philosophy Before and After Rousseau,
vol. 1, ed. A.G. Little (1939), pp. 80‒4.
12  It should be critically noted here that Vaughan’s reliance on the justness of some treaties can
hardly be squared with Spinoza’s doctrine of the absence of normativity and morality in the interna-
tional state of nature.
13  Lauterpacht, ‘Spinoza and International Law’, pp. 89, 97 (n. 2).
14  Verdross, ‘Das Völkerrecht im Systeme von Spinoza’, p. 104 (n. 2); Walther, ‘Natural Law, Civil
Law, and International Law in Spinoza’, pp. 657, 664 (n. 2).
15  Adolf Menzel, Beiträge zur Geschichte der Staatslehre (1929), p. 414.
16  Baruch Spinoza, The Essential Spinoza: Ethics and Related Writings, ed. Michael L Morgan, trans.
Samuel Shirley (2006).
17  Baruch Spinoza, Theological-​Political Treatise, ed. Jonathan Israel (2012).
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186 Tilmann Altwicker

II.  The Absence of Normativity in the

International State of Nature

Spinoza’s account of international relations starts out from what can be called a
‘realist’ position: Spinoza assumes a natural antagonism between states, which he
describes as an ‘international state of nature’. In this regard, Spinoza’s conceptu-
alization of international relations is influenced by Hobbes.18 The international
state of nature according to Spinoza’s account, rests on two premises: First, at
various points in the TP, Spinoza relies on an analogy between the individual and
the state (individual/​state-​analogy).19 Following this analogy, Spinoza reasons that
states, too, must be considered in a state of nature. Spinoza uses the individual/​
state-​analogy as a tool for the analysis of conditions of agency.20 Accordingly, and
important for his argument, Spinoza claims that states have a ‘will’ and can act on
‘passions’. Second, the socialization of individuals comes to an end with the crea-
tion of the nation-​state. There can be no world society or integration of all societies
in one, superior world state. Thus, Spinoza treats international law, similarly as
Hegel later, as ‘external state law’.21 Contrary to individuals, states have the poten-
tial to provide for their self-​preservation (security).22 Given this difference, there
is no natural need for further association of individuals beyond the socialization
at the state-​level.
Based on these premises, Spinoza outlines three characteristics of the interna-
tional state of nature: the absence of substantive international values, the non-​bind-
ingness of international treaties, and the character of international relations as a
(latent) ‘state of war’. First, unlike the Spanish scholastics (e.g. Francisco Vitoria
or Francisco Suárez) and in contrast to Hugo Grotius,23 Spinoza does not base his
theory of international relations on any notion of substantive universal values or a

18  See Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. Edwin Curley (1994), ch. XXX, p. 233 (‘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. … And the same law that dictateth to men that have no civil government, what they
ought to do, and what to avoid in regard of one another, dictateth the same to commonwealths, that is,
to the consciences of sovereign princes and sovereign assemblies, there being no court of natural justice
but in the conscience only, where not man, but God reigneth, whose laws (such of them as oblige all
mankind) in respect of God, as he is the author of nature, are natural, and in respect of the same God,
as he is King of kings, are laws’ [emphasis in the original]).
19  ‘For since … the sovereign’s right is nothing other than the right of Nature itself, it follows that
two states are in the same relation to one another as are two men in a state of Nature …’ (TP 3/​11,
p. 54 [emphasis by the author]). ‘Now in a civil order the citizens as a body are to be considered as a
man in a state of Nature’ (TP 7/​22, p. 87 [emphasis by the author]).
20  Spinoza is mindful of the difference in potentia between individuals and states, as TP 3/​11,
p. 54 shows.
21  G.W.F. Hegel, Elements of the Philosophy of Right, ed. Allen W. Wood, trans. H.B. Nisbet (trans.)
(2003), paras. 330–​40.
22  TP 3/​11, p. 54. Later, it will be shown that this potential is conditioned upon the existence of a
particular power structure (see IV.).
23  On universal values as justification for internationalism see Nigel Dower, World Ethics: The New
Agenda (2nd edn, 2007), p. 60.
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Spinoza 187
universal society (societas humana). Rather, Spinoza emphasizes what we would call
‘particularism’ in international relations.24 States are considered as isolated entities
for which their own ‘security’ or ‘welfare’ (salus) is the ‘highest law’.25
Second, Spinoza claims that treaties between states concluded in the international
state of nature, are non-​binding.26 It is important to distinguish between the exist-
ence of ‘rules for action under natural law’ and their binding nature.27 The reason is
that Spinoza does not give a teleological account, but a naturalist account of inter-
national relations and international law. Accordingly, it can be useful for a state in
the state of nature to conclude ‘treaties’ (rather bargains) with other states (while the
question of their bindingness follows other, naturalist principles, see Section III.).
Spinoza mentions two such ‘treaties’: non-​aggression pacts concluded due to a ‘fear
of loss’ and trade agreements made in ‘hope of gain’.28 Though it is rational (in the
sense of advantageous) for a state to enter into such international agreements, they
are non-​binding on Spinoza’s account. According to a central passage in his theory
of international relations, ‘if the fear or the hope is lost to either of the two com-
monwealths, that commonwealth is left in control of its own right, and the tie by
which the two commonwealths were bound together automatically disintegrates’.29
International agreements in the state of nature, thus, are stable only as long as it is in
the mutual interest to keep them. If the international agreement ceases to be in the
interest of one of the parties, the agreement as such collapses (without any remedy
for the other parties). Once a government discovers that an international treaty is
harmful to the interests of the state, it must break the agreement. For otherwise, the
government would violate its pledge of allegiance to its own subjects.30 The ‘rules
for action under natural law’, thus, have the status of rules of prudence rather than
(legal) obligation. As such, they do not amount to binding international law. To the
contrary, as Spinoza’s mockery makes clear: ‘If, then, a commonwealth complains
that it has been deceived, it certainly cannot blame the bad faith of its ally but only
its own folly in entrusting its security to another who is in control of his own right
and for whom the safety of his own state is the supreme law’.31
Third, Spinoza leaves no doubt that the international state of nature is a state of
(latent) war. Two commonwealths are enemies ‘by nature’, as Spinoza writes, rely-
ing again on the analogy between states and individuals: The natural antagonism
among individuals, following from their conflicting ‘passions’ (affectus), creates a
state of (latent) war.32 Spinoza writes, there are ‘certainly some things to fear for a
commonwealth’, just like for individuals in the state of nature.33 Hence, from the

24  See David Boucher, The Limits of Ethics in International Relations: Natural Law, Natural Rights,
and Human Rights in Transition (2009). For a general philosophical analysis of the dichotomy ‘univer-
salism/​particularism’ see Ernesto Laclau, Emancipation(s) (1996), ch. 2.
25  TP 3/​14, p. 55. 26  TP 3/​14, p. 55.
27  See Cheneval, ‘Spinozas Philosophie der internationalen Beziehungen’, pp. 195, 201 (n. 2).
28  TP 3/​14, p. 55. 29  TP 3/​14, p. 55. 30  TTP 16/​16, p. 203.
31  TP 3/​14, p. 55.
32  See TP 2/​14, p. 43 (‘In so far as men are assailed by anger, envy, or any emotion [affectus, bet-
ter translated as ‘passion’, T. A.] deriving from hatred, they are drawn apart and are contrary to one
another …’).
33  TP 3/​9, p. 52.
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188 Tilmann Altwicker

individual/​state-​analogy it follows that the international state of nature must also

be considered a state of war.34 As shall be argued in the next section (III.), this realist
position taken by Spinoza is only the backdrop against which his international legal
argument is developed.

III.  Reconstruction of the International Legal Argument

Spinoza’s international legal argument, i.e. the conditions under which interna-
tional law exists, is contained in a dense and demanding passage in the TP. The text
is difficult to understand because it draws on concepts and arguments outlined ear-
lier in the TP and some contained in his major work, Ethics. Spinoza’s international
legal argument can be outlined in six steps (followed by short remarks):
(1) There is a fundamental ‘disproportionality’ (Manfred Walther) between the
individual’s judgment of what is good for him or her (the desired good or
status) on the one hand, and the individual’s ‘power’ (potentia) to achieve
that good on the other.35
In the TTP, Spinoza argued that individuals are ‘carried away by sensual desire and
by their passions (which have no regard for the future and for other things)’.36
Spinoza’s doctrine of the passions is crucial for an understanding of his political
philosophy because passions function both as a catalyst for the need to establish
institutionalized social life and as a limit to the design of political institutions.
Essentially, Spinoza believes that passions are an unchangeable constant in human
actions that cannot be eliminated. Consequently, his political philosophy is about
channelling the passions into social benefits by institutional means (e.g. through
laws backed by threats).37 It is the transformative aspect of institutions that makes
Spinoza’s political philosophy highly relevant for today’s discussions of the func-
tioning and the limits of institutions. Furthermore, it is important to see that in the
aggregate, insofar as judgments on the good by the individuals are irreconcilable,
these individuals will be ‘adversaries’.38 The individuals’ power of action is thus lim-
ited—​most importantly, in the political context, by the other individuals’ power.

34  See TP 3/​12, p. 54, missing in the Hackett edition: ‘Haec autem clarius intelligi possunt, si con-
sideremus, quod duae civitates natura hostes sunt: homines enim … in statu naturali hostes sunt; qui
igitur jus naturae extra civitatem retinent, hostes manent’ [translation by the author: This can be under-
stood more clearly if one considers that two commonwealths are enemies by nature: because men …
are enemies in the state of nature; those who retain the law of nature outside the commonwealth remain
enemies].
35  Manfred Walther, ‘Elementary Features of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy (4P37S2)’, in Michael
Hampe, Ursula Renz, and Robert Schnepf (eds.), Spinoza’s Ethics: A Collective Commentary (2011),
pp. 211, 220.
36  TTP 5/​8, p. 73.
37  Walther, ‘Elementary Features of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy (4P37S2)’, pp. 211, 215 (n. 32).
38  TP 2/​14, p. 43.
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Spinoza 189
It should be noted that Spinoza’s international legal argument makes use of his
dual conception of power: potentia and potestas. ‘Power’ as potentia refers to the
individual’s ability to cause factual change (causal power). ‘Power’ as potestas is used
by Spinoza in social and political contexts to denote authority or coercive power.39
Whereas potentia is inalienable, potestas may be transferred (most importantly, the
individual transfers his or her potestas to the state).40 Thus, Manfred Walther trans-
lates potentia as ‘power of action’ and potestas as ‘power of direction’.41
(2) The ‘power of action’ (potentia) increases when individuals join together and
combine their individual power in the form of the ‘power of the multitude’
(potentia multitudinis).42
In Spinoza’s naturalistic political philosophy, the increase of power through coop-
eration can be understood as an ‘addition of forces’ in a Newtonian sense. Spinoza
gives reasons that drive individuals to conspire: the primary reasons are common
fear or the will to avenge a common injury.43 In the TTP, Spinoza adduces further
reasons of utility for the association of individuals, all relating to the idea of division
of labour.44 It is, however, important to emphasize again that Spinoza does not give a
teleological, but a naturalistic account of the formation of associations. Thus, given
the fundamental, indisposable condition of ‘disproportionality’ between individual
judgment and individual power outlined above, cooperation among individuals is
self-​evident and—​as Manfred Walther argues—​‘alternativeless’.45
(3) The association of individuals is called a ‘state’ (civitas) when it has the power
(potestas) to prescribe and enforce ‘laws’, i.e. common rules of behaviour
sanctioned by threats.46
It is important to note that for Spinoza normativity of any kind (law or morality),
i.e. being bound to perform or to abstain from an action, requires institutional-
ized social life. Only in the context of institutionalized social life is the individual
compelled—​by the ‘power of the multitude’ (potentia multitudinis) —​to perform
an act or to abstain from performing it.47 Again, underlying this reasoning is evi-
dently a physical conception of power:  The multitude with its superior power

39  Justin Steinberg, ‘Spinoza on Being sui iuris and the Republican Conception of Liberty’, History
of European Ideas 34 (2008), 239.
40 Justin Steinberg, ‘Spinoza’s Political Philosophy’, in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy,
Edward N. Zalta (ed.) (Winter 2013 edn), accessed 15 September 2015, <http://​plato.stanford.edu/​
archives/​win2013/​entries/​spinoza-​political/​>, ch. 3.6.
41  Walther, ‘Elementary Features of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy (4P37S2)’, pp. 211, 220 (n. 32).
See also Oliver Lembcke, ‘Spinozas Theorie der Souveränität’, in Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste,
and Manfred Walther (eds.), Naturalismus und Demokratie: Spinozas ‘Politischer Traktat’ im Kontext
seines Systems (2014), pp. 45, 47–​51.
42  TP 2/​13, p. 43.
43  TP 3/​9, p. 52; Ethics 4P37S2, p. 122. Here, and in the following, ‘P’ denotes proposition, ‘S’
denotes scholium.
44  TTP 5/​7, p. 72.
45  Walther, ‘Elementary Features of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy (4P37S2)’, pp. 211, 220 (n. 32).
46  Ethics 4P37S2, p. 122. 47  TP 2/​16, p. 44.
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190 Tilmann Altwicker

overcomes any resistance of particularity (e.g. the individual). Of course, it needs

to be asked how the multitudo is composed in the first place. Spinoza does not give
much guidance here. For him, it is its function as a normativity-​generating entity
that characterizes the multitudo, not e.g. common history, geographical unity, or
language. This openness of the multitudo-​concept has proven useful to thinkers
such as Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri who in their seminal work Multitude
explicitly rely on Spinoza, arguing that there is an emerging transnational multi-
tude of the exploited.48
(4) Given the individual/​state-​analogy, the supreme right of the state reaches
as far as the power of action (potentia) it possesses,49 and it is diminished to
that extent that it causes fear in other individuals who, in turn, associate and
establish other, foreign states.50
Spinoza’s international legal argument is based on two assumptions of fact: first,
that there exists a plurality of states (each of which has the supreme right in that
state), and, second, that there exist things each state has to fear.51 The assumptions
are related because it is the fear of domination by others that drives people to associ-
ate in a plurality of states.
The ‘vanishing point’ of Spinoza’s theory of international relations is the stabil-
ity of the institutionalized social life of individuals in the form of associations, the
primary example of which is the state. The stability of the state can be threatened
both from the inside and from the outside: It is threatened from the inside if the
governed subjects are given cause to join in conspiracy against it, i.e. if the rules are
such that it makes no sense for some individuals to remain part of the state.52 The
stability of a state can also be threatened from the outside in the case of domination
by other states, i.e. if a state fears the power of action (potentia) of another state, or
is prevented by that state from carrying out its intent, or where it depends on the
other state’s help for its own preservation or prosperity.53
(5) If two or more states associate, their power of action (potentia) increases
and together they have more ‘rights’ than each of them in isolation.54 The
greater the number of states that join the association of states, the less each
individual state must be feared.55
Given that institutionalized social life (within a state) is under threat from the
outside, there must be a form of association available that reaches beyond the sin-
gle state. This is the association of states. It should be noted that Spinoza does not
speak about a transnational association relating to individuals. In the TTP and in

48  Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Multitude: War and Democracy in the Age of Empire (2004),
p. 190.
49  TP 3/​2, p. 48. 50  TP 3/​9, p. 52. 51  TP 3/​9, p. 52.
52  In an interesting passage, Spinoza discusses what cannot be part of (domestic) law-​making. The
supreme right of the state (summum potestas) is limited: ‘[A]‌ll such things as no one can be induced to
do by reward or threats do not fall within the rights of the commonwealth.’
53  TP 3/​12, p. 54. 54  TP 3/​12, p. 54. 55  TP 3/​16, p. 56.
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Spinoza 191
the TP, Spinoza speaks of ‘allies’ (confoederati) and of an ‘association’ or ‘league’
of states (foedus).56 As already stated, Spinoza does not advocate the socialization
of individuals beyond the state—​a ‘world state’, a societas humana in the way the
Spanish Scholastics had contemplated, is ruled out in Spinoza’s theory of interna-
tional relations and international law. In the TTP, Spinoza explicitly mentions that
‘allies’ retain their respective governments.57 In other words, statehood is a constant
in international relations for Spinoza.
Each individual member (state) of the association of states has that much less
‘right’ (jus) the more it is exceeded in power by the others collectively. By the indi-
vidual/​state-​analogy, the individual member (state) of the association of states has
only the ‘right’ that the association grants.58 In all other actions, the individual
member (state) is compelled by the ‘common will’ of the association of states (com-
munis foederatorum voluntas).59 Spinoza does not mention any international insti-
tutions or organs (as Kant famously does later).60 Nevertheless, there must be some
forum in which the ‘common will’ of the allies may be formed and expressed. One
is tempted to draw from Spinoza’s treatment of (domestic) democracy and his belief
in group rationality: Spinoza famously states that ‘there is less reason in a demo-
cratic state to fear absurd proceedings. For it is almost impossible that the majority
of a large assembly would agree on the same irrational decision’.61 In other words,
deliberation among a great number of people or—​in the case of the association of
states—​state governments is a way to ‘avoid the follies of appetite and as much as
possible to bring men within the limits of reason, so that they may dwell in peace
and harmony’.62
(6) Since being compelled to act in accordance with an association’s common
rules of behaviour means following a ‘law’, the existence of binding interna-
tional law is possible.63
In general, Spinoza speaks of ‘law’ in a weak normative sense (and refers to it)
as ‘guidance’ or ‘rule for living’.64 The weak normative meaning of law is due to
his naturalistic account of political philosophy.65 Instead of a normative theory,
Spinoza provides a psycho-​sociological theory of international law and interna-
tional relations. He outlines the psychological (‘passions’-​related) and sociological

56  TTP 16/​16, p. 203; TP 3/​13, p. 55. On the ‘association of states’ (foedus) see TP 3/​14, p. 55. See
also the contrast between ‘allies’ and ‘cities’ as components of a single state, TP 9/​4, p. 121.
57  TTP 16/​16, p. 203. 58  Cf. TP 2/​16, p. 44. 59  TP 3/​16, p. 56.
60  Kant mentions the ‘permanent congress of States’, see Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals,
ed. and trans. Mary Gregor (2003), pp. 119–​20 (para. 61).
61  TTP 16/​9, pp. 200–​1. That on many questions groups produce a more accurate answer than
individuals has recently been confirmed by Cass R. Sunstein and Reid Hastie, Wiser: Getting Beyond
Groupthink to Make Groups Smarter (2015), pp. 143–​56.
62  TTP 15/​9, p. 201.
63  TTP 4/​3, p. 59 (‘[L]‌aw … is nothing other than a rule for living which men prescribe to them-
selves or to others for a purpose …’).
64  TTP 4/​3, p. 59.
65  For a more nuanced view on normativity in his international legal argument, see Section IV
below.
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192 Tilmann Altwicker

(power-​related) conditions under which international law is really ‘law’, i.e. the
conditions under which the overriding ‘passion’ by the states is to comply with
the ‘common will’ of the association of states.66 Thus, Spinoza describes the effect
of laws as guiding the conduct of all individuals ‘as if by one mind’ (omnes una
veluti mente ducuntur).67 Therefore, since a situation can be imagined in which the
conduct of allies (in the association of states) is guided ‘as if by one mind’, binding
international law has the potential to exist.

IV.  Three Analytical Concepts in Spinoza’s

International Legal Argument

Spinoza’s international legal argument gives a particular meaning to three concepts

which are of general analytical value when studying the theory of international law
and international relations: normativity of international law, being a state sui juris
and the concept of international cooperation.
(1)   Applying the notion of ‘normativity’, i.e. the idea of being bound to perform
or to abstain from an action, to a naturalistic account of international law such
as Spinoza’s poses evident difficulties. It is common to distinguish—​with Joseph
Raz—​two conceptions of normativity: ‘justified’ and ‘social’ normativity.68 In the
present context of international law, ‘justified normativity’ refers to the legitimacy
of international legal norms measured by some external standard (justice etc.) and
their acceptance as binding by the subjects acting in the international realm. ‘Social
normativity’ means the relevance of the international legal norms in guiding the
actual behaviour of states.
It is not an easy task to square Spinoza’s naturalistic account with this common
understanding of normativity. Spinoza does not employ the concept of ‘normativ-
ity’ explicitly. However, in the context of international relations, he uses (weakly)
normative expressions reminding of the idea of ‘social normativity’: Spinoza argues
that ‘each [member state of the association of states] is the more bound to observe

66  Similarly, Manfred Walther, ‘Spinozas Beitrag zu den Bedingungen eines internationalen Rechts
im Politischen Traktat’, in Tilmann Altwicker, Francis Cheneval, and Oliver Diggelmann (eds.),
Völkerrechtsphilosophie der Frühaufklärung (2015), pp. 49, 57 (arguing that the enduring relevance of
Spinoza’s theory of international law lies both in his diagnosis of the problems of international law as
well as the realization-​conditions for an international law).
67  TP 2/​16 [translation by the author].
68  Joseph Raz, The Authority of Law (2nd edn, 2011), p. 134 (‘Two conceptions of the normativ-
ity of law are current. I will call them justified and social normativity. According to the one view legal
standards of behaviour are norms only if and in so far as they are justified. They may be justified by
some objective and universally valid reasons. They may be intuitively perceived as binding or they may
be accepted as justified by personal commitment. On the other view standards of behaviour can be
considered as norms regardless of their merit. They are social norms in so far as they are socially upheld
as binding standards and in so far as the society involved exerts pressure on people to whom the stand-
ards apply to conform to them.’).
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Spinoza 193

the conditions of peace; that is … [the member state] must the more adapt itself [sese
accomodare tenetur] to the common will of the allies’ [my emphasis] the greater the
number of states that join the association of states.69 What Spinoza has in mind, as
stated above, may be characterized as a psycho-​sociological interpretation of nor-
mativity. Normativity in Spinoza’s theory of international relations refers, first of
all, to the determination of an action by an overriding passion (e.g. the fear of being
sanctioned for non-​compliance by the association of states) or intellectual insight
(e.g. in the utility of contributing individually to the security and stability of the
association of states).70
The conception of ‘justified normativity’ poses greater problems: for a natu-
ralistic account of international relations and law, there are no transcendent or a
priori standards for the ‘law’. To Spinoza, thus, there can be no juxtaposition of an
ideal, natural law order of things versus the non-​ideal, factual order of things.71
Nevertheless, Spinoza does not propose a simple ‘social fact’-​based legal positivism
either. Even though there is no transcendent or a priori-​standard for the ‘justness’
of international legal norms, there is an immanent, contextual standard which is
the ‘utility’ of an action under the prevailing power structure: Spinoza writes in the
TTP that an agreement among allies (members of the association of states) ‘will be
valid as long as its foundation, the source of the danger or advantage, persists. No
one makes an agreement, and no one is obligated to honour a pact, except in the
hope of some good or apprehension of some adverse consequence’.72 The utility-​
standard of international legal norms emerges even clearer from the following pas-
sage: ‘This treaty of alliance remains effective for as long as the motive for making
the treaty—​fear of loss or hope of gain—​remains operative.’73 It is crucial to note
that the determination of what is ‘useful’ does not only take into account the sub-
jective judgment of the state’s government on what is momentarily good or harmful
for their state, but it necessarily reflects the prevailing power structure. The reason
is that the ‘passions’ attributed to states (or—​rather—​their governments), namely
fear of loss and hope of gain, remain unaltered within the context of the associa-
tion of states. The only difference is that the association of states has the ‘power of
direction’ (potestas) to compel the individual state member to acting in conformity
with the ‘common will’. In consequence, the ‘common will’ of association must
‘legislate’ wisely as it will otherwise give rise to adverse ‘passions’ that may lead to
insurrection by a group of member states and may ultimately lead to the destruc-
tion of the association of states.

69  TP 3/​16, p. 56.
70  See, mutatis mutandis, Walther, ‘Elementary Features of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy (4P37S2)’,
pp. 211, 216 n. 11 (n. 32).
71 Steinberg, ‘Spinoza’s Political Philosophy’, ch. 2 (n. 37). On normativity in Spinoza’s legal
and political philosophy, see Michael A. Rosenthal, ‘Politics and Ethics Spinoza: The Problem of
Normativity’, in Matthew J. Kisner and Andrew Youpa (eds.), Essays on Spinoza’s Ethical Theory (2014),
p. 85.
72  TTP 16/​16, p. 203. See also TP 2/​12. See Steinberg, ‘Spinoza’s Political Philosophy’, ch. 2.2
(n. 37).
73  TP 3/​14, p. 55.
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194 Tilmann Altwicker

(2)   Another difficult, yet essential analytical concept in Spinoza’s political philoso-
phy is that of being (a person or a State) sui juris.74 The concept derives from the
Roman law classification of citizens into persons alieni juris and persons sui juris.75
The persons lacking the capacity of being sui juris are slaves but the term is also used
in relation to children (until the death of the paterfamilias) and women who are
not the head of the household.76 Sui juris is thus a concept used in legal contexts,
denoting the capacity to act in a legal manner.77 Several influential juristic accounts
in the 16th and 17th century (e.g. by Hugo Grotius) employed the concept of
sui juris.78 In the TP, Spinoza introduces the sui juris-​concept with regard to the
individual person, giving it primarily the meaning of ‘independence’ or ‘self-​owner-
ship’.79 Essentially, being sui juris implies the power of retribution of harm done to
oneself and the power to avert all attempts of domination by others.80 The concept
of sui juris is then applied to the state. Spinoza writes that a state ‘is in control of
its own right [sui juris] to the extent that it can take steps to safeguard itself from
being subjugated’ by another state.81 This idea of independence from another’s will
or self-​governance of citizens would count Spinoza into a pre-​republican line of
thought.
However, as Justin Steinberg has forcefully argued, Spinoza attaches a second
idea to the concept of sui juris which diverges from its meaning in republican-
ism thought: while the first understanding of sui juris stresses self-​governance in
contrast to being sub potestate of another person, the other meaning of sui juris
emphasizes wise or rational governance.82 On rational governance, Spinoza writes
in the TTP, ‘no one can doubt how much more beneficial it is for men to live
according to laws and the certain dictates of reason, which as I have said aim at
nothing but men’s true interests’.83 It is this idea of sui juris as ‘rational governance’
that can also be found in the TP when Spinoza makes the (in)famous claim that the
state—​to remain sui juris—​must ‘preserve the causes that foster fear and respect’,84
or when Spinoza denounces absolute rule by a monarch.85 In both cases, ‘rational

74  On the sui juris-​concept see Steinberg, ‘Spinoza on Being sui iuris and the Republican Conception
of Liberty’, p. 239 (n. 36); Gunnar Hindrichs, ‘Spinozas Begründung der praktischen Vernunft’, in
Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, and Manfred Walther (eds.), Naturalismus und Demokratie.
Spinozas ‘Politischer Traktat’ im Kontext seines Systems (2014), pp. 21, 40–​3.
75  Paul du Plessis, Borkowski’s Textbook on Roman Law (4th edn, 2010), p. 102; Quentin Skinner,
‘States and the Freedom of Citizens’, in Quentin Skinner (ed.), States and Citizens: History, Theory,
Prospects (2003), pp. 11, 13.
76  Du Plessis, Borkowski’s Textbook on Roman Law, p. 110 (n. 72); Steinberg, ‘Spinoza on Being sui
iuris and the Republican Conception of Liberty’, pp. 239, 242 (n. 36).
77  See also the antonym, ‘alieni iuris esse’, Adolf Berger, Encyclopedic Dictionary of Roman Law
(2008), p. 360.
78  Steinberg, ‘Spinoza on Being sui iuris and the Republican Conception of Liberty’, pp. 239, 243
(n. 36).
79  See TP 2/​9, pp. 41–​2. 80  TP 2/​9, pp. 41–​2. 81  TP 3/​12, p. 54.
82  Steinberg, ‘Spinoza on Being sui iuris and the Republican Conception of Liberty’, pp. 239, 246–​
9 (n. 36).
83  TTP 16/​5, p. 197. 84  TP 4/​4, p. 59. 85  TP 6/​8, p. 66.
 195

Spinoza 195
governance’ is endangered because the government itself gives rise to adverse pas-
sions (or omits to arrange for ‘loyal’ passions) in the individuals subject to their
rule. This may ultimately lead to upheaval and the overthrow of the government,
i.e. threaten the stability of institutionalized social life.
The second interpretation of sui juris as rational governance best explains the
idea of what it means to be sui juris in an association with other states: Just as any
individual loses his or her capacity to be sui juris in the (first) sense of independence
or self-​governance once he or she is under the civil rule of the state, the state itself
loses its independence when joining the association of states.86 However, what is
gained from joining the respective associations is (additional) potentia, the ‘power
of action’.87 Once one distinguishes the two conceptions of sui juris, it becomes
clear that, by joining the association of states, a state loses its independence and
submits to the potestas of the association. Nevertheless, it is sui juris as it gains in
potentia, and it is therefore ruled rationally.
(3)   A third analytical concept is that of ‘international cooperation’. Spinoza
himself does not use the term ‘international cooperation’ explicitly, but the idea
is very much present in both the TTP and the TP. In the TTP, Spinoza argues
that States conclude a ‘mutual agreement not to harm one another, and to give
assistance to each other when the need arises’.88 Similarly, in the TP, he says
that allies ‘afford each other mutual help’.89 Spinoza also reveals the areas or
goals of international cooperation. He writes that the motive (causa) for joining
the association of states is ‘fear of loss’ and ‘hope of gain’.90 The first motive,
‘loss’ (damnum), relates to concerns of security. Military alliances are formed to
reduce the risk of war for all members. The other motive, ‘gain’ (lucrum), relates
to economic affairs. While the security-​aspect of international cooperation often
appears more urgent to Spinoza, he nevertheless clearly identifies making profit
by international trade as a motive for international cooperation. Spinoza must
have been impressed by the volume of international trade done in Amsterdam in
the 17th century.91
Again, in a naturalistic account of international relations it is not teleological rea-
sons that bring states together. Thus, it would be improper to claim with Spinoza
that international law is created for the purpose of facilitation of cross-​border ‘trade’
or ‘security’. Spinoza’s international legal argument is much more sophisticated:
states are compelled to engage in international cooperation to remain sui juris. States
must enter into a relationship with other states that enables each to be sui juris in
the sense of being under rational governance (see above).

86  See TP 3/​5, p. 50 (in relation to the individual); TP 3/​16, p. 56 (in relation to the state).
87  See TP 3/​12, p. 54. 88  TTP 16/​16, p. 203. 89  TP 3/​12, p. 54.
90  TP 3/​14, p. 55.
91 On the importance of Amsterdam to international trade see David Ormrod, The Rise of
Commercial Empires: England and the Netherlands in the Age of Mercantilism, 1650–​1770 (2005), pp.
13, 207–​8 (emphasizing the importance of the large-​scale grain imports in the agricultural sector).
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196 Tilmann Altwicker

Adapting a formulation by the political scientist Robert Axelrod, the fundamen-

tal question that Spinoza seeks to answer with his conception of international coop-
eration can be put as follows: under what conditions will cooperation in the form
of law emerge in a world of egoistic states without central authority?92 Spinoza’s
answer—​one that is full of insight into the psychology of international relations—​
is this: as long as there is ‘fear of loss or hope of gain’ by one state in relation to
others.93 Spinoza, therefore, neither simply describes international relations ‘as they
are’, nor ‘as they should be’, but rather depicts international relations ‘as they have
the potential to be’ given what law ‘is’ and given the psycho-​sociological conditions
of human action. Spinoza’s great sense for the reality of international relations can-
not be stressed enough: the idea to choose political isolation, the belief to be able to
stand apart when other states establish alliances or engage in other forms of inter-
national cooperation would have been considered short-​sighted, even irrational by
Spinoza.

V.  Conclusion: Spinoza’s Contribution to the

Ordering of International Relations

What is Spinoza’s lasting contribution to the theory of international relations and

international law? Three suggestions shall be made here: the exposition of a ‘non-​
ideal theory’ of international relations, international relations as part of a theory
on the institutionalization of individual freedom, and the idea of precedence of
rational international governance over independent governance.
First, Spinoza offers—​in the best sense of the term—​a ‘non-​ideal theory’ of
international relations and international law. Other than John Rawls, who intro-
duced the distinction between an ‘ideal’ and a ‘non-​ideal’ theory of international
relations in his Law of Peoples, Spinoza does not make this distinction.94 Instead,
Spinoza outlines a unique theory which is both relying on a philosophical system
(the principles ‘proven’ in his major work Ethics) and providing a practical theory
which can have universal application in the interaction of states (regardless of how
the state or a society is structured internally).95 As was shown above, Spinoza’s
idea of the international interaction of states builds upon principles he developed
in the Ethics, like the doctrine of the passions and of power (potentia). However,
the state of ordered international relations cannot be deduced from ‘teachings of
reason’.96 It must take into account the realities of social interaction and, above
all, the constitution of man. In other words, Spinoza does not ‘derive’ his the-
ory of international relations and international law from ontological principles

92  Robert Axelrod, The Evolution of Cooperation (1984), p. 3. 93  TP 3/​14, p. 55.

94  John Rawls, The Law of Peoples (2002), pp. 89–​120. 95  See TP 1/​1, p. 33.
96  TP I/​7, p. 36.
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Spinoza 197
contained in the Ethics.97 Instead, he purports to develop a theory of practice which
is—though not deduced from ontological principles—nevertheless in conform-
ity with them.98 Accordingly, he does not assume perfectly rational actors in the
international sphere. Rather, Spinoza’s theory of international relations operates
on the premise that states remain egoistic, utility-​maximizing, and antagonistic
associations of individuals driven by passions and not necessarily by reason.99 This
‘thin’ assumption regarding the constitution of states turns Spinoza’s account of
international relations into a forceful international argument.
Second, though the individual does not appear in the short paragraphs deal-
ing with international relations in the TTP and the TP (for the simple reason
that there is no socialization of individuals in a super-​state, as explained above),
Spinoza’s theory of international relations connects to individual freedom. In fact,
individual freedom is the common theme running through both the Ethics and
the TP. In the Ethics, Spinoza showed the way to individual freedom, in the TP
he expounds the political institutions required to put individual freedom into
practice.100 As the foreword to the TP states, his intention is to show ‘how a com-
munity … should be organised if it is not to degenerate into a Tyranny, and if the
Peace and Freedom of its citizens is to remain inviolate’.101 Spinoza’s treatment of
international law must also been seen in this light of institutionalizing individual
freedom. In other words, the path towards a realization of individual freedom only
comes to a conclusion when international relations among states are ordered by
international law. Only under a stable power structure—​safeguarded by the com-
mon will of the association of states—​is lasting freedom of individuals within their
respective states possible. Thus, Spinoza, in both his works on political philosophy
views stable international relations ultimately as a condition of individual freedom
(within a state).
Most powerful is, third, the idea of precedence of ‘rational international govern-
ance’ over ‘domestic self-​governance’ regarding two fields of policy: ‘security’ and
‘trade’. Spinoza’s theory does not require the internationalization of all fields of pol-
icy. Neither does he suggest that statehood must be abolished. To the contrary, the
existence of states remains a condition of individual freedom in Spinoza’s political
philosophy. Only with regard to two transnational goods, ‘security’ and ‘trade’, does
his theory envisage the submission of the individual state under the ‘common will’
of the allies or association of states. Regarding these two policy fields, a compelling

97  Accordingly, the field of politics is elaborated separately from the Ethics, Wolfgang Bartuschat,
‘Spinozas Ontologie und Erkenntnistheorie als Hintergrund seiner politischen Philosophie’, in
Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, and Manfred Walther (eds.), Naturalismus und Demokratie:
Spinozas ‘Politischer Traktat’ im Kontext seines Systems (2014), p. 2.
98 TP 2/​1, p. 37. See Stephan Kirste and Manfred Walther, ‘Politische Philosophie als Theorie
der Praxis’, in Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, and Manfred Walther (eds.), Naturalismus und
Demokratie. Spinozas ‘Politischer Traktat’ im Kontext seines Systems (2014), p. 13.
99  TP 1/​7, p. 36. 100  Steinberg, ‘Spinoza’s Political Philosophy’, ch. 4 (n. 37).
101  TP Foreword, p. 33.
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198 Tilmann Altwicker

force drives states towards international cooperation. Here, international govern-

ance has a rationality-​benefit over domestic self-​governance.

Selected Bibliography
Altwicker, Tilmann, ‘Spinozas Theorie der internationalen Beziehungen’, in Wolfgang
Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, and Manfred Walther (eds.), Spinoza, Politischer Traktat: Ein
Kommentar (Heidelberg: Mohr Siebeck, 2014).
Cheneval, Francis, ‘Spinozas Philosophie der internationalen Beziehungen’, in Marcel Senn
and Manfred Walther (eds.), Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza (Zurich: Schulthess,
2001).
Lauterpacht, Hersch, ‘Spinoza and International Law’, The British Yearbook of International
Law 8 (1927), 89.
Santos Campos, André (ed.), Spinoza and Law (Abingdon, UK and New York, USA:
Routledge, 2015).
Walther, Manfred, ‘Natural Law, Civil Law, and International Law in Spinoza’, Cardozo Law
Review 25 (2003), 657.
Walther, Manfred, ‘Spinozas Beitrag zu den Bedingungen eines internationalen Rechts im
Politischen Traktat’, in Tilmann Altwicker, Francis Cheneval, and Oliver Diggelmann
(eds.), Völkerrechtsphilosophie der Frühaufklärung (Heidelberg: Mohr Siebeck, 2015).
 19

10
States, as Ethico-​Political Subjects
of International Law
The Relationship between Theory and Practice in the
International Politics of Samuel Pufendorf

Vanda Fiorillo

I.  International Law as a Moral Politics: The Correlation

between the Fulfilment of the ‘Offices of Humanity’
and the Exercise of the Natural Rights of States

‘The specific character’ of Pufendorf ’s theory of the international order ‘is recognis-
able in embryonic form in the very foundations of his moral philosophy’, but also
has ‘factors (…) not solely related to phylosophical elements pertaining to natural
law’.1 From such a standpoint, this chapter aims to focus on the dialectical relation-
ship between the various principles upon which the theory of international law as
developed by Samuel Pufendorf is founded and supported. In fact, this theory is
substantiated as much by principles of natural law, arising from the complex edifice
of the duties of peace, as by strictly political criteria among which there are also, and
not least, international treaties.
In order to reconstruct the dialectic between these two sets of principles,
it should be said that the international scenario to which Pufendorf refers no
longer coincided with that outlined by the Christian Commonwealth. This is
because he had, as it were, ‘completely atomised’, in conceptual terms, ‘the uni-
versal juridical community of the Middle Ages’, conceived ‘as a corpus mysticum
politicum’,2 breaking it down into a ‘constellation’ of sovereign states, which he

1  Cf. Maurizio Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana della politica internazionale’, in Vanda Fiorillo
(ed.), Samuel Pufendorf, filosofo del diritto e della politica, International Conference Proceedings, Milan,
11–​12 November 1994 (1996), pp. 46–​7 (here and below, works cited which are not in English have been
translated by the author, unless otherwise stated).
2  Cf. Hermann Klenner, ‘Bileams Pferd auf die Kanzeln! Zur Naturrechts-​und Völkerrechtslehre
des Samuel Pufendorf ’, in Bodo Geyer and Helmut Goerlich (eds.), Samuel Pufendorf und seine
Wirkungen bis auf die heutige Zeit (1996), p. 200.

States, as ethico-political subjects of international law: The relationship between theory and practice in the
international politics of Samuel Pufendorf. Vanda Fiorillo. © Vanda Fiorillo, 2017. Published 2017 by
Oxford University Press.
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200 Vanda Fiorillo

interpreted as moral entities3 and more specifically, as compound moral persons.4
Thus, Pufendorf ’s conception of international law bears witness to the crumbling
of the compact unity of the mediaeval corpus christianorum and the emergence,
twenty years on from the Peace of Westphalia, of territorial states as new actors
in international politics. Indeed, it is widely known that the seventeenth cen-
tury saw the ‘reinforcing (…) of national states, organising law according to the
needs of their statehood. The idea of an Empire looming over them gradually
disappeare[d]‌’.5
Within this framework, sovereign states, like all other moral persons, are
conceived by Pufendorf ‘in the Manner of Substances’.6 As with natural enti-
ties, that perform their physical movements within a space, states carry out
their actions and cause their moral and legal effects within the moral entity
‘state of nature’.7 Consequently, the relations between sovereign entities—​like
those that once united the ancient household heads or ‘patriarchs’ at the dawn
of human history—​exemplify, for Pufendorf, a tempered or ‘qualified’ state of
nature towards others.8 He qualifies this state as real, not fictitious,9 and more
precisely as the state of nature that really exists.10 And as, in the earliest days of
anthropological history, the ancient household heads lived in a state of anar-
chy, so in Pufendorf ’s day, the different peoples were not subject, in his view,
to the power of any common master, nor were they linked by a relationship of

3  On the fundamental division, drawn by Pufendorf between natural entities and moral entities,
cf. all of chapter I of book I, pp. 3–​22, of his most important work on natural law, De Jure Naturae et
Gentium, libri octo, cited here and below in the Lausannae et Genevae, 1744 edition, unless otherwise
stated (Samuel Pufendorf, De Jure Naturae et Gentium, libri octo [1744]). As is well known, moral entities
are, in turn, grouped into four categories by Pufendorf as follows: moral persons, state, moral qualities,
and moral quantities. On the quadripartite division of the moral entities and their internal subdivisions,
see in particular paragraphs V–​XXII of chapter I of book I of De Jure, on pp. 6–​21, cited here.
4  As is well known, for Pufendorf, the compound moral persons are formed when a number of
men come together in such a way that what they do and want is judged, by virtue of the moral bond
between them, as but one action and one sole will. On this, cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para.
XIII, p. 14 (n. 3).
5  Horst Denzer, Moralphilosophie und Naturrecht bei Samuel Pufendorf. Eine geistes-​und wissen-
schaftsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Geburt des Naturrechts aus der Praktischen Philosophie (1972),
p. 218.
6  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para. VI, p. 7 (n. 3); here cited from Samuel Pufendorf, Of
the Law of Nature and Nations, 8 bks., trans. Basil Kennet, with notes of Jean Barbeyrac (1729), bk.
I, ch. I, para. VI, p. 4.
7  In Pufendorf ’s practical philosophy, the moral entity ‘state’, including the state of nature, presents
itself as an ens suppositivum, i.e. as a system of reference, without which persons could not have moral
existence. Thus, it may be said to correspond ultimately to the sphere of the carrying out of life in
society. On the moral entity ‘state’, see Samuel Pufendorf, Elementorum Jurisprudentiae Universalis,
libri duo (1669), bk. I, def. III, para. 1, p. 9.
8  In Pufendorf ’s vision, in fact, the natural state towards other men is ‘real only in a limited way and
in part, in the case where sections of humankind live in communities, which, in turn, find themselves
mutually in the status naturalis’: Hans Welzel, Die Naturrechtslehre Samuel Pufendorfs: Ein Beitrag zur
Ideengeschichte des 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (1958), p. 29. On the temperatus et velut partialis state of
nature towards others cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. II, para. IV, pp. 159–​61 (n. 3).
9  Cf. Samuel Pufendorf, De Officio Hominis et Civis secundum Legem Naturalem, libri duo, cum
Adnotationibus Everardi Otti (1711), bk. II, ch. I, para. VI, pp. 397–​8.
10  Cf. Pufendorf, De Officio, p. 398 (n. 9).
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Samuel Pufendorf 201

command and subordination. In short, peoples lived in a state of international

anarchy.11
Despite the parallels that Pufendorf repeatedly drew between the natural state
existing at his time between sovereign states and what had once mutually bound
the household heads, he does not fail, however, to highlight a significant difference
between these two natural societies, even though they are united by the absence
of a higher-​level political power, able to give lasting protection to their members.
According to Pufendorf, in fact, natural men—​precisely because of their limited
strength,12 i.e. their constitutive ‘weakness’13—​would not have found it particu-
larly pleasant or helpful not to recognize some supreme power over them, to whom
they could entrust the task of ensuring their preservation. Conversely, states and
their rulers may boast that they live in a state of supreme natural liberty,14 i.e. of
natural freedom par excellence, precisely because they are self-​sufficient and strong
enough to be able to enjoy their liberty15 in safety. This freedom should be under-
stood here as the faculty of states to decide for themselves, using their own judg-
ment, on the questions that concern their preservation and security.16 However,
despite the acknowledged superiority of the state over the ‘weak’ natural man in
achieving its own self-​preservation without risk, Pufendorf admits that no sover-
eign entity is sufficiently rich or strong as to have no need of friendship or the aid
of others nor not to fear harm from an enemy coalition.17
Despite the not insignificant difference between the natural state of men and
that of states in the successful pursuit of the goal of security, Pufendorf—​critically
qualifying Hobbesian war of all against all as the life and condition of beasts18—​
characterizes both these conditions as states of universal peace, prescribed solely
by the obligation of the law of nature.19 In fact, as occurs in the natural state of
men, it would prove superfluous in the creation of peace in international society to
reinforce it by means of pacts or alliances, which add nothing to the natural obli-
gation. This is because, as happens with a single individual, also a sovereign entity

11 Cf. Samuel Pufendorf, De Statu Hominum Naturali, in Samuel Pufendorf, Dissertationes

Academicae Selectiores (1675), para. 7, p. 600. On this point see also Pufendorf, Elementorum, bk. I,
def. XIII, para. XXIV, p. 282 (n. 7); Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para. VII, p. 9 (n. 3).
12  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. II, para. IV, p. 160 (n. 3).
13  On the anthropological characteristic of ‘weakness’ (imbecillitas), meaning the original incapacity
of man to acquire arts, crafts, and techniques to satisfy his own needs, and thus his inability to fully
develop his humanity without the aid of his fellow humans cf., for example Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II,
ch. II, para. II, pp. 151–​4 (n. 3); Pufendorf, De Statu Hominum Naturali, para. 5, pp. 592–​7 (n. 11).
14  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. II, para. IV, p. 160 (n. 3). On the difference between the state
of nature of men and the state of nature of states, cf., in the context of the literature on the subject,
Ernst Reibstein, Völkerrecht: Eine Geschichte seiner Ideen in Lehre und Praxis. I. Von der Antike bis zur
Aufklärung (1957), p. 490; Ernst Reibstein, ‘Pufendorfs Völkerrechtslehre’, Österreichische Zeitschrift
für Öffentliches Recht, vol. VII (1956), p. 48.
15  See further Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. II, para. IV, p. 160 (n. 3).
16  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VII, ch. V, para. XX, p. 207 (n. 3). See also Samuel Pufendorf, De
Systematibus Civitatum, in Pufendorf, Dissertationes Academicae Selectiores, para. 18, pp. 314–​15 (n. 11).
17  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. X, p. 192 (n. 3).
18  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para. VII, p. 8 (n. 3).
19  Cf. Pufendorf, Elementorum, bk. I, def. III, para. 5, pp. 15–​16 (n. 7).
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202 Vanda Fiorillo

is violated with equal injustice and wrongfulness whether a pact has been entered
into or otherwise. Therefore, universal peace can be said to be realized for mankind
organized into political societies only through the mutual respect of those duties
of natural law that consist mainly in refraining from causing unjust harm to others
and in settling possible disputes between states by resorting to a mutual accord or
an arbitral award.20
More specifically, Pufendorf applies his usual tripartite division of the duties
towards other men21 to the coexistence of states. Such duties are deduced from the
first law of nature, which prescribes to human beings a pacific sociality22 and at the
same time universal peace to states.
Peace comes about, first of all, through the mutual fulfilment of the duty of
reciprocal non-​aggression (neminem laedere)—​which should be seen as the fun-
damental obligation for coexistence, whether international or interpersonal—​and
secondly, through the mutual satisfaction of the two natural obligations of equality
and humanity towards other peoples. Taken as a whole, such duties considered in
relation to others come, in particular, under what Pufendorf calls the absolute law
of nature. This coincides with the set of the natural precepts, that oblige members
of mankind at all times and in which ever condition they find themselves in, set-
ting aside any institution, deed, or covenant entered into or introduced by man.23
In essence, in Pufendorf ’s vision, such precepts of the absolute law of nature—​
from which duties between states originate—​exemplify those metahistorical moral
principles, valid for all men and for all states in both diachronic and synchronic
terms. On this basis, Pufendorf equates international law, to its fullest legal extent,
precisely to the range of the absolute natural obligations towards others.24 In his
definition of international law, he especially takes up Hobbes’s thesis that the law of
nations is merely another name for natural law, when, with no change to its content,
it is applied to states, which have essentially the same properties as individuals.25
Bearing in mind the conceptual definition of international law as the set of the
absolute natural duties towards others, it is appropriate at this point to mention
some special characteristics assumed by two of the three above-​mentioned kinds of
obligations26 (equality and the duties of humanity), when these refer to states and
not to individuals.

20  Cf. Pufendorf, Elementorum, bk. I, def. III, para. 5, pp. 15–​16 (n. 7).
21  On Pufendorf ’s tripartite division of the duties towards other men into those of non-​aggression
(neminem laedere), equality and the obligations of humanity or charity, cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. III,
ch. I–​III, pp. 297–​356 (n. 3); Pufendorf, De Officio, bk. I, ch. VI–​IX, pp. 163–​238 (n. 9).
22  On sociality, as the fundamental proposition of Pufendorf ’s law of nature, cf. Pufendorf, De Jure,
bk. II, ch. III, para. XV, pp. 202–​5 (n. 3).
23  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. XXIV, p. 224 (n. 3).
24  On the same interpretative lines, cf. Erik Wolf, Grosse Rechtsdenker der deutschen Geistesgeschichte
(1951), esp. pp. 348–​50 (n. 1), who identifies the ‘true locus of validity’ of Pufendorf ’s absolute nat-
ural law in the ‘reciprocal relationship between legislative powers’. Thus, the above-​mentioned law
‘would merge with ius gentium, with international law (insofar as it does not derive from a positive law
agreement)’.
25  Cf. Thomas Hobbes, Elementa Philosophica de Cive (1649), ch. XIV, para. IV, p. 240.
26  On Pufendorf ’s tripartite division of the duties towards others, see n. 21 above.
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Samuel Pufendorf 203

Starting with the duty of equality, it may be seen how it is interpreted in the
international scenario as the equal liberty of states, regardless of their size, strength,
or wealth.27 It is evident that in the inter-​state context, freedom may be enjoyed
‘in equal measure as much by the sovereign, with absolute power, as that who is
limited in the exercise of [such power]’.28 And if one considers that liberty of the
political entities is understood by Pufendorf as the faculty that all states may exer-
cise to establish, on condition that they are reciprocal, the ways and means most
appropriate for their conservation,29 then the duty of their equal freedom coincides
with the mutual moral commitment of sovereigns to allow the application of the
same power and right to preservation of all the other political societies. Moreover,
in sovereign entities such a power and such a right to self-​preservation seem very
similar to Pufendorf ’s particular understanding of natural equality among men,
consisting in their equal right and power to preserve themselves.30 With regard
to how it can be put into practice, it should be emphasized here that the duty of
equality between states—​like the other two kinds of natural obligations towards
others31—​is converted into practice through the criterion of reciprocity. In fact,
this represents ‘the basis of equality’,32 constituting the formal structure, which, in
the practical sphere, regulates the equal treatment of another state. In this regard,
it may be said that it is precisely the violation, or the not always perfect application
in the practice of the criterion of reciprocity that gives rise to the most pressing
theoretical and practical issues in international law, including that of Pufendorf.
Moreover, the moral principle of equality between states, despite the disparity in
their degree of power—​repeatedly sustained theoretically in his works on natural
law—​is then also included by Severinus de Monzambano-​Pufendorf among the
concrete measures which he suggests for ‘curing’ the constitutional ‘disease’ of the
German Empire of his time. So much so that in order to preserve the internal

27  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IV, para. XVIII, p. 395 (n. 3). On this matter, despite
sustaining that in internationalistic theory ‘no man has ever, neither before nor since, assumed such a
narrow and unilaterally naturalistic view as Pufendorf ’, Arthur Nussbaum identifies, nevertheless, the
‘most important (…) contribution [of this thinker] to the history of international law’ precisely ‘in his
thesis of the natural equality of states’: cf. Arthur Nussbaum, Geschichte des Völkerrechts in gedrängter
Darstellung (1960), pp. 165–​6.
28 Wilfried Schaumann, Die Gleichheit der Staaten:  Ein Beitrag zu den Grundprinzipien des
Völkerrechts (1957), p. 45. On this point, cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IV, para. XIX, p. 396
(n. 3).
29  See n. 16, above.
30  On the meaning of equality as the equal power and right of natural men to preserve themselves,
cf. Pufendorf, De Statu Hominum Naturali, para. 13, pp. 611–​12 (n. 11). On the various meanings of
equality recurring in the works on natural law or theology of Pufendorf, see Vanda Fiorillo, ‘L’altro,
“ut aeque homo”: eguaglianza e “dignitas individui” nell’antropologia politica di Samuel Pufendorf ’,
in Vanda Fiorillo, Friedrich Vollhardt (eds.), Il Diritto Naturale della Socialità: Tradizioni Antiche ed
Antropologia Moderna nel XVII Secolo, International Conference Proceedings, Naples, 24–​25 October
2003 (2004), pp. 105–​38; partially republished in German with the title: ‘Der Andere “ut aeque
homo”: Gleichheit und Menschenwürde in der politischen Anthropologie Samuel Pufendorfs’, Archiv
für Rechts-​und Sozialphilosophie, Vol. 99, 1 (2013), 11–​28.
31  Still referring here—​as stated above—​to the duty that no man be hurt and the offices of humanity.
32  Cf. Gerhard Sprenger, ‘Die Bedeutung der Lehre von der imbecillitas bei Samuel Pufendorf.
Einige anthropologische Anmerkungen’, in Pufendorf, filosofo del diritto, p. 263 (n. 1).
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204 Vanda Fiorillo

concord between the sovereign entities participating in the disharmonious political
body of the Empire—​which suffered from the dual ‘disease’ of a badly organized
monarchy and a disorderly confederation of states33—​Pufendorf deems it necessary
that states unequal in power may, nevertheless, enjoy equal freedom and security.34
Turning now to examine briefly the third kind of absolute duties towards oth-
ers, the offices of humanity, also known as offices of peace, it should be noted that
Pufendorf slightly adapted them to the nature of states. These, in fact, in their
capacity as subjects of international law, seek to attain above all mutual security.
And it is for this reason that—​in accordance with this purpose—​such duties, of a
(logically) positive character, if applied to states rather than individuals, are properly
restricted in their range of action, ending up not encompassing ‘any of the social
prescriptions of the natural law that look beyond considerations of security’.35
Finally, of all the obligations towards others, for Pufendorf, abiding by one’s
word and fulfilling promises and agreements has a special value in ensuring peaceful
international coexistence, as this obligation is one of the most sacred imperatives in
natural law.36 So much so that if this duty were not respected, much of the benefit
that states may derive from their mutual exchange of services and goods would be
lost. But most importantly, failing to keep his word, no sovereign would be able to
rely in any way on the help of others in pursuing his goals.37 In Pufendorf ’s view,
the evident importance of the duty of keeping faith in international society finds
its theoretical justification in the fact that ‘promises can already have binding force
in the state of nature’.38 This is because every sovereign, i.e. he who recognizes
no superior above him, is surely the only one who can be regarded, in the strict
sense, as a natural man, in accordance with the logical-​rational construction of
the state of nature as a condition of anarchy. However, he—​while not recognizing
any earthly power above himself—​should constantly be ‘determined in his actions
by the voice of (…) conscience to keep to moral rules’.39 In fact, the reason for
the inner binding force, on conscience, of the sovereign’s promise—​as, indeed, the

33  Cf. Severinus de Monzambano (pseudonym of Samuel Pufendorf ), De Statu Imperii Germanici,
liber unus (1668), ch. VII, para. 8, p. 130. Among the other measures recommended by Pufendorf to
remedy the constitutional irregularity of the German Empire, mention should be made here only of
his original proposal to establish a permanent council, which would represent the confederate states,
carrying out the task of attending to the current affairs of the confederation itself. This council, in
fact, and in conjunction with certain and carefully produced laws, would have had—​in Pufendorf ’s
design—​the overarching aim of limiting and mitigating the power of any supreme head of the Reich, so
that he would be prevented from aspiring to a despotic dominion over it. On Pufendorf ’s proposal for
a permanent council of the states that were associated within the German Empire, see Monzambano,
De Statu Imperii Germanici, ch. VIII, para. 4, p. 141.
34  Cf. Monzambano, De Statu Imperii Germanici, ch. VIII, para. 4, p. 141 (n. 33).
35 Cf. Leonard Krieger, The Politics of Discretion:  Pufendorf and the Acceptance of Natural Law
(1965), p. 169.
36  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. III, ch. IV, para. II, p. 358 (n. 3).
37  On the duty of keeping faith in Pufendorf, see also Pufendorf, De Officio, bk. I, ch. IX, para. III,
pp. 207–​8 (n. 9).
38  Cf. Gerald Hartung, Vertragstheorie und Konstruktion der Souveränität bei Samuel Pufendorf,
in Dieter Hüning (ed.), Naturrecht und Staat bei Samuel Pufendorf (2009), p. 47.
39  Cf. Hartung, Vertragstheorie, p. 47 (n. 38).
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Samuel Pufendorf 205

obligatory value of any other peace duty valid in all relations between states—​stems
from the specific theologico-​voluntaristic basis that the concept of duty takes on
in Pufendorf ’s moral philosophy: it is, in short, ‘the divine legislator that obliges
men to shape their behaviour in a manner consistent with moral norms’.40 Indeed,
in investigating the origin of those obligations, which from some points of view
can be distinguished from civil obligations, that derive from other men’s power,41
Pufendorf states that God as creator of mankind must also be considered as the
author of the obligation in man and of the law of nature.42
The theologico-​voluntaristic basis of duties, including international ones, is also
part of a general and broader but equally voluntaristic definition of the concept
of law, from which ‘obligation’ arises in the first place. In fact, law, in its capacity
as decree of a sovereign,43 always implies a ‘distance between the superior [himself ]
and the one who receives the order’ through which the law itself, ‘as such, acquires
binding force’.44 However, as there is no political power above the sovereign enti-
ties, Pufendorf denies the existence of a voluntary or positive international law, with
true legal force, binding peoples, as this would emerge from a legislator superior
to them.45 On this important point of his international law theory, the German
philosopher departs, however, from Grotius’s thesis, whereby ‘the jus gentium vol-
untarium requires the consensus, if not of all nations, then at least of the greatest
number of them’.46 Thus, Pufendorf shows that his criticism of Grotius’s volun-
tary or positive international law rests ‘essentially on the rejection of the idea of
the ‘universal consensus of nations’ as well as on the idea of ‘the consensus of the
more civilised peoples’.47 Indeed, Pufendorf holds that it is not possible to ‘establish
international law on the Grotian consensus gentium, because the law that governs
the free life of states cannot be the law of nations as a changing positive law, but

40  Gerald Hartung, Die Naturrechtsdebatte: Geschichte der Obligatio vom 17. bis 20. Jahrhundert
(1999), p. 36. On Pufendorf ’s theory of duties and their classification, see further Albrecht Randelzhofer,
Die Pflichtenlehre bei Samuel von Pufendorf (1983); Hans-​Ludwig Schreiber, Der Begriff der Rechtspflicht:
Quellenstudien zu seiner Geschichte (1966), on Pufendorf pp. 9–​12. On this topic, see furthermore Vanda
Fiorillo, Tra egoismo e socialità: Il giusnaturalismo di Samuel Pufendorf (1992), pp. 169–​212.
41  Samuel Pufendorf, Appendix to Epistola ad Adamum Scherzerum, super censura quapiam in librum
suum inique lata, in Pufendorf, Eris Scandica, qua adversus libros de iure naturali et gentium obiecta
diluuntur (1743), in the appendix to his De Jure Naturae et Gentium, p. 77 (n. 3).
42 Pufendorf, Appendix to Epistola, p. 78 (n. 41).
43  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. VI, para. IV, p. 89 (n. 3).
44  See Hartung, Die Naturrechtsdebatte, p. 35 (n. 40).
45  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. XXIII, p. 220 (n. 3). On the theoretical reasons
for Pufendorf ’s denial of a voluntary or positive international law, see Thomas Behme, Samuel von
Pufendorf: Naturrecht und Staat: Eine Analyse und Interpretation seiner Theorie, ihrer Grundlagen und
Probleme (1995), p. 167, n. 312; and Schaumann, Die Gleichheit der Staaten, p. 43 (n. 28). On this
matter, Ziegler recognizes, on the other hand, in the ‘rejection’ by Pufendorf of ‘a positive inter-
national law (…) a weakness—​albeit immanent in the system—​of his work’: Karl-​Heinz Ziegler,
Völkerrechtsgeschichte (1994), p. 197.
46  Cf. Simone Goyard-​Fabre, Pufendorf et le droit naturel (1994), p. 222.
47  Cf. Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, pp. 47–​8, n. 35 (n. 1). On Pufendorf ’s critique of con-
sensus gentium see Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, paras. VII–​IX, pp. 184–​90 (n. 3). On Pufendorf ’s
confutation of Grotius’s position on the consensus of the peoples as a valid principle of legitimation of
international law, cf., in the literature on the subject, Massimo Panebianco, Ugo Grozio e la tradizione
storica del diritto internazionale (1974), esp. pp. 108–​9. On this critique of Grotius by Pufendorf, see
Fiorillo, Tra egoismo e socialità, pp. 155–​64 (n. 40).
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206 Vanda Fiorillo

only the law of nature, which is “not subject to change”’.48 Starting from these
assumptions, Pufendorf believes that what is inappropriately called voluntary or
positive international law would in effect derive from the correspondence between
the civil laws common to a plurality of nations. Thus, it would not constitute a
particular kind of law, as the shared characteristics of the rules of civil law, recurring
in a number of legislations, do not depend on some sort of mutual convention or
obligation among these nations, but simply on the particular will of their individual
legislators.49
In the light of the rejection of a positive law of nations and the claim that inter-
national law and natural law are identical, it is precisely the fundamentally ethi-
cal nature of the obligations making up international law that allows Pufendorf
to consider peace as the ordinary proper state of man, i.e. the condition closest to
human nature and—​like the first law of nature that prescribes sociality to men—​
particularly suited to the ultimate goal of safety of mankind.50 As we have seen,
peace is the result of the reciprocal moral fulfilment, and thus the spontaneous
satisfaction of international duties, especially not to harm other states, to mutually
fulfil the common offices of humanity and to carry out spontaneously what has
been agreed upon through pacts.51 For this reason, the nature of peace can only
be grasped by man as a rational being with his peculiar God-​given disposition to
act ethically, which makes him apt to conform to that law of nature from which
obligations spring in the first place. Thus, peace originates from a principle whereby
man prevails over beasts, which tend to survive by brute force, as their will is not
reined in by any kind of inner moral bond.52 Indeed, it is in the nature of peace to
do something spontaneously for others, and to refrain from harming them as the
result of some obligation in one, and the correlative right in another. These are all
things, says Pufendorf, that cannot be understood except through the use of reason.
In his words: ‘Man alone understands the Nature and Constitution of Peace. For it
is he only, that can voluntarily undertake or forbear the Performance of any Action,
which may bring Good or Harm upon another Person, upon a Consideration of
certain Obligations on one Side, and certain Rights on another.’53

48  Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, p. 48 (n. 1). On Grotius’s distinction between natural
law and the law of nations cf., e.g. Ugo Grozio, De Jure belli ac pacis, libri tres, cum annotatis Auctoris,
nec non J.F. Gronovii Notis, & J.  Barbeyracii Animadversionibus; Commentariis Henr. L.  B. De
Cocceii, insertis quoque Observationibus Samuelis L. B. De Cocceii (1758), Tomus I, Prolegomena,
para. 40, p. 21.
49  Cf. Pufendorf, Elementorum, bk. I, def. XIII, para. 24, p. 283 (n. 7).
50  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. VI, para. II, pp. 431–​2 (n. 3).
51  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. VI, para. II, pp. 431–​2 (n. 3).
52  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. I, para. IV, p. 144 (n. 3). On the man–beast relationship in
Pufendorf ’s moral theory, see Vanda Fiorillo, ‘ “Non canis, sed homo”: dignità umana ed onore nel
giusnaturalismo di Samuel Pufendorf ’, Il Pensiero Politico, XL, 2 (May–​August 2012) pp. 177–​80;
republished in German in Vanda Fiorillo, Michael Kahlo (eds.), Wege zur Menschenwürde. Ein deutsch-​
italienischer Dialog in memoriam Mario A. Cattaneo, International Conference Proceedings, Trier, 20–​24
February 2012 (2015), pp. 111–​30.
53 Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. VI, para. II, p. 432 (my italics) (n. 3); here cited from Pufendorf,
Of the Law of Nature and Nations, bk. VIII, ch. VI, para. II, p. 833 (n. 6).
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Samuel Pufendorf 207

As may be seen from the correlation clearly described above between the duties
and rights existing among states, Pufendorf considers the relationship between
states as a moral relationship, built on the necessary mutual relation between an
obligation of one international subject and a right of another. To fully understand
the ethical nature of this interdependence between a duty and a (subjective) right
in the international context, it is necessary first of all to underline that Pufendorf
applies this correlation indifferently to the relationship between simple moral per-
sons—​which comprise natural men—​and between compound moral persons, which
include states.54 On this basis, it may be said that in Pufendorf ’s conception of
international law, the correlation between right and duty determines, in the first
instance, the specific nature of the relationship between states. To understand what
this correlation is, it is necessary to reflect a little on the particular idea he has of
these two concepts. In the works of Pufendorf on natural law, both these notions are
included in his quadripartition of the moral entities,55 and are specifically identified
with two different kinds of moral qualities: a duty with a passive operating moral
quality56 and a (subjective) right with an active operating moral quality. More spe-
cifically, the latter, a right, may refer to ‘active Qualities, as by virtue of it any thing
may be requir’d of others’.57 In the language of Pufendorf, in fact, a right is ‘a power,
potestas, in a person, enabling this person to act with moral effect. The effect is that
an obligation is laid on somebody else’, where obligation is conceived as ‘an inner
bond on the will’.58 It is clear that a right is here included in the broader category
of power, which enables the person who holds the latter to act ‘lawfully and with a
moral Effect’.59 And this moral efficacy consists in eliciting from the counterpart an
‘obligation (…) to perform some certain Business, which he requires, or to admit
some Action of his as valid, or not to stop and hinder it’.60 In other words, a right,
as a moral faculty, ‘places fellow humans, as partners in a contractual exchange, in
an obligatory relationship’.61 Thus—​also in Pufendorf ’s internationalistic vision—​
the holder of a right establishes, as such, a moral relationship with the other party,
which is bound to fulfil the correlative (moral) obligation of non-​resistance to the
right itself.
On the basis of these premises, the mutual and spontaneous (being moral)
fulfilment of the peace duties in relations between sovereigns is—​at this level of

54  The distinction between simple and compound moral persons, as well as their inner subdivisions
is set out by Pufendorf in De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, paras. XII–​XIII, pp. 12–​14 (n. 3).
55  On Pufendorf ’s classification of the moral entities, see n. 3, above.
56  The definition of duty as a passive moral quality is given in Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para.
XXI, p. 21 (n. 3).
57  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para. XX, p. 20 (n. 3); here cited from Pufendorf, Of the Law
of Nature and Nations, bk. I, ch. I, para. XX, p. 12 (n. 6).
58  Cf. Karl Olivecrona, The Concept of a Right according to Grotius and Pufendorf in Peter Noll,
Günter Stratenwerth (eds.), Rechtsfindung: Beiträge zur juristischen Methodenlehre: Festschrift für Oscar
Adolf Germann zum 80 Geburtstag, (1969), p. 178.
59  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para. XIX, p. 19 (n. 3); here cited from Pufendorf, Of the Law
of Nature and Nations, bk. I, ch. I, para. XIX, p. 11 (n. 6).
60  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. I, ch. I, para. XIX, p. 19 (n. 3); here cited from Pufendorf, Of the Law
of Nature and Nations, bk. I, ch. I, para. XIX, p. 11 (n. 6).
61  Cf. Hartung, Die Naturrechtsdebatte, p. 34 (n. 40).
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208 Vanda Fiorillo

Pufendorf ’s theory—​the main condition, allowing, in the first instance, the exer-
cise of the natural rights of states, and especially their freedom, as the right to self-​
preservation and security. In short, for Pufendorf, the moral applicability of the
absolute natural duties towards others, attributable to states, allows the undisturbed
exercise of the natural rights of sovereign entities, and therefore the potential physi-
ological development of non-​conflictual international relations.
It may thus be supposed that, at this stage of Pufendorf ’s theorization on inter-
national law based on the coincidence of the law of nations and natural law, states
in their capacity as compound moral persons are conceived, in the first instance, as
ethical subjects of international law. They appear, namely, as the main actors on a
possible world stage in a kind of barely outlined moral politics, i.e. in the same theo-
retical politics that, in the climate of the mature German Enlightenment, would
be referred to as politische Weisheit, political wisdom. At the close of the eighteenth
century, in fact, it was no coincidence that this form of politics would be closely
identified with the law of nature, built up as a theory of natural duties;62 a theory,
that, in our case, would set out the specific obligations to be performed within the
international community.

II.  A Pragmatic Politics: International Treaties as 

Politico-​Diplomatic Instruments Converting the Peace
Duties into Inter-​State Practice

In international relations, however, it is also, and above all, the necessity to resort
to inter-​state coercion, i.e. war,63 which shows that the law of nations, as absolute
law of nature, despite being valid for mankind over the centuries, is not always
effective or applicable. In fact, although natural law is adapted, by virtue of divine
wisdom, to human nature, so that its observance is always connected to the per-
sonal benefit of individuals,64 nevertheless the true reason for it lies not so much in
‘the useful’, as in the nature of men. Therefore, taking up the stoic idea of the uni-
versal relationship between human beings, Pufendorf sees, for example, the reason

62  Essential reading on the concept of politische Weisheit, as the specifically theoretical level of the
Enlightenment conception of politics in Germany is the work of Diethild Maria Meyring, Politische
Weltweisheit: Studien zur deutschen politischen Philosophie des 18 Jahrhunderts, phil. diss. (1965), esp. ch.
I, pp. 16–​60. For a further examination of this concept, cf. n. 70, below.
63  On the concept of war in Pufendorf, refer to Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. VI, pp. 431–​54
(n. 3). In Pufendorf ’s thought, war appears as a status subsidiarius, which takes over when the criterion
of reciprocity has been violated in the fulfilment of the duties of peace. This is because the violation
of this criterion is—​as we have seen—​the violation of the natural rights of peoples. Thus, the state of
war is the last resort to which one is driven when it is impossible to protect one’s safety and one’s own
rights without using force. War is, therefore, a state of mutual and excessive coercion, which neces-
sarily occurs because of the irrationality of men, similar in this respect to animals, which are not, in
themselves, likely to be moderated in their behaviour by any moral bond. On this point, see Pufendorf,
Elementorum, bk. I, def. III, para. 6, pp. 17–​18 (n. 7) and Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. VI, para.
II, p. 432 (n. 3).
64  See Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. X, p. 191 (n. 3).
 209

Samuel Pufendorf 209

why a man should not do harm to another not so much in utility itself (even if
this is actually extremely useful), but because the other is also a man, i.e. a creature
similar in nature, whom it is wrong to harm.65 Thus, although respect for natural
law is also accompanied by a utility that is of benefit to all mortals, while, on the
other hand, violation generally causes a remorse of conscience66 and hence unhap-
piness in individuals, this law turns out to be, due to the irrationality of man, not
sufficiently suited to bringing about tranquillity and security of mankind.67
For this reason, precisely because of the wickedness of man, who is not always
inclined to act on the basis of the sole law of humanity, the law of nations, as natural
law, requires states to draw up contracts in order to strengthen through promises
and pacts their mutual transactions.68 So much so that without pacts it would not
be possible to maintain sociality and peace among men.69 It might thus be sup-
posed that it is the law of nature itself—​as a ‘political wisdom’ or a theoretical poli-
tics in embryo—​that seeks the aid, in a subordinate role, of prudence or pragmatic
politics.70 To this would be assigned, in this case, the specific task of finding the
most useful and appropriate means to realize the natural duties of peace in interna-
tional practice. In this sense, prudence would appear to form the applicative part
or the way of realizing in the practical sphere the law of nations, as a moral politics,
constituted by the offices of humanity. Also in Pufendorf ’s view, however, political
prudence seems only to play a subordinate role to international law, as a ‘political
wisdom’, insofar as it appears to have a merely instrumental function in promoting
the moral dynamics of the latter. Consequently, what has been rightly observed
on Pufendorf ’s state doctrine may be extended to his theory of international law.

65  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. XVIII, p. 208 (n. 3).
66  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. III, ch. IV, para. VI, p. 363 (n. 3).
67  See Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VII, ch. I, para. XI, pp. 124–​5 (n. 3).
68  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. III, ch. IV, para. I, p. 357 (n. 3).
69  See Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. III, ch. IV, para. I, p. 358 (n. 3).
70  With the dialectical connection between moral politics and political prudence, which seem to
underly Pufendorf ’s very conception of international law, he would appear, then, to prepare the terrain
for the debate in the following century, made famous in 1793 by Kant in his On the Old Saw—​which
would attempt to answer one of the most important theoretical questions which animated critical
public discussion in Germany: that of establishing the proper relationship between theory and practice.
In particular, this public debate gave expression to yet another attempt to define the nature of politics,
leading to a definition, also from the disciplinary point of view, of the relationship between ‘politi-
cal wisdom’ (politische Weisheit), as theoretical politics, and prudence (Klugheit), which corresponds
conversely to pragmatic politics. Within this framework, the formal structure of eighteenth-​century
German political philosophy, known at the time as Philosophia practica, Philosophia moralis, or else
practische Weltweisheit, was divided, in particular, into the two disciplines of 1) natural law, as a theory
of socio-​political duties, and 2) the doctrine of prudence (Klugheitslehre), which was identified, on the
other hand, with politics stricto sensu. The first, natural law, formed the specifically theoretical part of
the Weltweisheit, while the second, prudence, provided instructions on how to fulfil in the practical
sphere, and in the most advantageous way, the socio-​political duties suggested by the law of nature. On
the formal division of eighteenth-​century German political philosophy, refer, once again, to the appo-
site observations of Meyring, Politische Weltweisheit, pp. 17ff. (n. 62). For an analysis of the dialectic
between political wisdom and prudence applied to two German Enlightenment theories of different
ideological standpoints, one liberal (that of Ernst Ferdinand Klein), and the other radical-​democratic,
(that of Johann Adam Bergk), see Vanda Fiorillo, Autolimitazione razionale e desiderio. Il dovere nei
progetti di riorganizzazione politica dell’illuminismo tedesco (2000), passim.
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210 Vanda Fiorillo

In fact, according to Pufendorf, as the science of natural law, ‘as a practical disci-
pline, also needs prudence alongside normative science (…), in order to be able
to determine action in concrete situations’, which represent ‘facts that cannot be
constructed more geometrico’, equally, ‘also in the doctrine of state, the discipline
of political prudence is an indispensable means of application of the natural-​law
construction of state to practice, i.e. of conversion of the natural law definition of
the purpose of the state [itself ] into concrete provisions to act (…) related to the
condition and situation of individual political communities’.71 More specifically,
political wisdom and prudence—​whose criteria would seem to be inherent in the
very international law of Pufendorf—​also appear to imply two distinct criteria for
assessing inter-​state relations. While prudence seems to proceed according to the
useful-​useless binomial, wisdom or moral politics would evaluate what exists starting
from the just-​unjust concept pair.
Based on these assumptions, it is precisely the insufficient applicability of the law
of nature that gives rise to the necessity, at international level, to open up the field
of pragmatic politics. This finds its parallel (in terms of relations between individu-
als) in the necessity to found a state with positive laws, assisted by coercion. More
specifically, the not always perfect effectiveness of the duties of peace in relations
between sovereigns involves a shift from universally valid utility—​which, based
on reason and recommended by the norms of international law, coincides with
what is of lasting benefit to humanity72—​towards a delicate and difficult com-
promise between the peculiar utilities of individual states. In fact, such a compro-
mise is reached precisely by means of those political principles that complement
Pufendorf ’s theory of international law, working together in a subordinate role with
its natural law canons. And this is how ‘in Pufendorf the two extremes of natural-​
law rationalism and political opportunism come into contact’.73
Among the political principles which contribute to defining Pufendorf ’s doc-
trine of the law of nations, there are undoubtedly also international treaties, which
flank war as the main instrument of empirical politics. It is no coincidence that
Pufendorf considers them to be ‘legal transactions of the political and diplomatic
kind, belonging as such not to jurisprudence but to history’.74 In fact, according to
Pufendorf, the special conventions between two or more states, such as alliances or
peace treaties, do not come under the law of nations, despite their being carried out
in fulfilment of the duty to religiously abide by the given word. Not only do many

71 Behme, Naturrecht und Staat, p. 168 (n. 45).

72  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. X, pp. 191–​2 (n. 3).
73  Cf. Reibstein, Völkerrecht, p. 493 (n. 14).
74  Reibstein, ‘Pufendorfs Völkerrechtlehre’, p. 63 (n. 14). Concerning in particular Pufendorf ’s dis-
cussion of the law of embassies, it should be recalled that in his opinion, the inviolability of ambassadors
is sanctioned by natural law itself, as such figures contribute, for him, to re-​establishing, conserving,
or making peace more solid through alliances or treaties. This, however, is on condition that ambas-
sadors do not behave like spies, plotting hostile acts against the host sovereign. Yet, precisely because
they are protected by the law of nature itself, delegates are not, however, subject to the jurisdiction or
the punitive power of the host state. Other kinds of privilege, that may or may not be granted to them
depend, on the other hand, solely on the customs of the ruler who offers them hospitality. On the law
of embassies, according to Pufendorf, see Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. XXIII, p. 223 (n. 3).
 21

Samuel Pufendorf 211

such treaties have obligatory force only for a limited time, but they are also similar
to those private contracts between citizens which are not included under civil law,
but are rather part of history and custom or practices that may or may not be fol-
lowed, depending on the will of the contracting parties.75
In this regard, it is important to note the analogy that exists in the relation-
ship between international law and treaties in the field of external relations, and
between natural law and positive law systems, concerning relations within indi-
vidual political societies. In both cases, the law of nature forms ‘the basis of valid-
ity’76 of treaties between states on the one hand, and positive legal orders on the
other. This is because ‘whether from the systematic point of view, or regarding their
validity’, natural laws can boast ‘pre-​eminence over positive laws’ and over inter-
national treaties themselves, precisely ‘by virtue of their claim to universal valid-
ity, and their more general scope’.77 This scope does not in fact coincide with the
specific public safety of the individual state, but the safety of mankind. ‘Therefore,
since the general is logically superordinate to the particular’, in Pufendorf ’s vision,
natural law—​precisely because it is equipped with universal validity—​is superior to
both international conventions and positive laws, neither of which pursue, on the
other hand, ‘the good of mankind’, but rather ‘a particular interest (…) of certain
groups’.78
Consequently, both international treaties and the positive legal orders of states
limit themselves, in turn, to specifying natural law in its more indeterminate pre-
cepts, integrating it within the field of what is permitted, authorized, or indif-
ferent.79 In fact, defining the relationship between the law of nature and nations
and those particular treaties of friendship or alliance between peoples which he
called foedera or confederations of states, Pufendorf states that international alliance
agreements80 can concern things to which one was already bound by virtue of the

75  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, para. XXIII, p. 223 (n. 3).
76  Cf. Denzer, Moralphilosophie und Naturrecht, p. 224 (n. 5), who here refers, however, only to the
relationship between the internal legal order and natural law. In the same interpretative direction cf.,
furthermore, Goyard-​Fabre, Pufendorf et le droit naturel, p. 234 (n. 46), where she rightly points out
that, for Pufendorf, ‘natural law (…) constitutes (…) the founding principle of all juridical norma-
tiveness’. On the relationship between natural law and positive law, according to Pufendorf, see e.g.
Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. II, ch. III, paras. XI and XXIV, pp. 194–​5 and 224–​5 (n. 3); Pufendorf, De Jure,
bk. VIII, ch. I, para. I, pp. 285–​7 (n. 3).
77  See Wolfgang Röd, Geometrischer Geist und Naturrecht: Methodengeschichtliche Untersuchungen
zur Staatsphilosophie im 17. und 18 Jahrhundert (1970), p. 93.
78  Cf. Röd, Geometrischer Geist, p. 93 (n. 77).
79  Making, also in this case, exclusive reference to relationships within civil states, Denzer under-
lines how in Pufendorf, the object of positive law is ‘things, that are not regulated by natural law,
[i.e.] that [are] left by the law of nature to the field of permission, “the authorized” and “the indiffer-
ent” ’: Denzer, Moralphilosophie und Naturrecht, p. 222 (n. 5).
80  It is precisely in the theory of international treaties that Ernst Reibstein sees the clear emer-
gence of the ‘positivistic attitude’ of Pufendorf, who, for the critic, applies to this subject ‘simply
the points of view on the basis of which the Spanish jurists had defined the relationship between jus
naturae and jus civile’. More specifically, ‘the model not mentioned by Pufendorf ’ would seem to have
been Fernando ‘Vasquez, who in this way meant to assert the natural law criterion of every positive
law’: Reibstein, ‘Pufendorfs Völkerrechtslehre’, pp. 68–​9, n. 94 (n. 14). On this theoretical point, see
Fernando Vázquez de Menchaca, Controversiarum Illustrium, aliarumque usu frequentium, libri tres
(1572), libri primi, ch. XXIX, para. 21, p. 82. On the distinction between jus gentium primaevum
21

212 Vanda Fiorillo

law of nature, or add to this more specific duties, or else make some hitherto more
indeterminate natural law prescriptions certain.81
Before examining the link between international law and alliance pacts or con-
federations in greater detail, it is, however, necessary to briefly refer first to the
characteristics of the latter. In this regard, it should first be pointed out that in
Pufendorf ’s political theory, confederations of states represent a specific variant of
the innovative concept of the composite state or ‘state-​system’ (systema civitatum),
which the author in turn distinguishes, on the basis of the unity or the division of
sovereign power, from the simple forms of the state itself.82
In this distinction between simple and composite states, he identifies the ‘state-​
system’ with several political entities, mutually connected so as to form one body,
though each of these entities retains its sovereignty.83 In turn, the ‘state-​system’ is
subdivided, in Pufendorf ’s opinion, into associations of states under one sover-
eign84 and into confederations of states. The latter forms, in particular, permanent
associations, based on a federal pact between two or more sovereign states.85 In
this way, Pufendorf introduces ‘a new category’ into his political theory, that of
‘state-​system’.86 This would prove to be ‘a very effective conceptual and termino-
logical instrument for the analysis and representation of the international political
order’.87 For Pufendorf, in fact, the inter-​state order does not depend ‘so much [on]
static bilateral equilibria, as especially [on] balanced relations between allied groups
of powers, or between groups and single states’.88
Starting from this premise, in chapter IX of book VIII of De Jure, Pufendorf
begins with an analysis of the so-​called ‘treaties of friendship’, specifying the rela-
tionship of the latter with the law of nations, as natural law. According to his recon-
struction, in this kind of alliance it is simply agreed upon to mutually exercise the

and jus gentium secundarium according to Vázquez, refer to Reibstein, ‘Pufendorfs Völkerrechtslehre’,
pp. 58–​9 (n. 14); and Franco Todescan, Lex, Natura, Beatitudo: Il problema della legge nella Scolastica
spagnola del sec. XVI (2014), esp. pp. 221–​2.
81 Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IX, para. I, p. 467 (n. 3).
82  On the fundamental distinction between simple states and compound states or ‘state-​systems’,
cf. Samuel Pufendorf, De Republica irregulari, in Pufendorf, Dissertationes Academicae Selectiores, para.
6, pp. 393–5 (n. 11). On this distinction, as well as on the general typology of the constitutional forms
in Pufendorf, cf., in the literature on the subject, Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, in particular
pp. 38–​40, 57–​9 (n. 1); Alfred Dufour, ‘Féderalisme et Raison d’État dans la pensée politique pufen-
dorfienne’, in Pufendorf, filosofo del diritto, esp. pp. 115–​25 (n. 1); Krieger, The Politics of Discretion,
esp. pp. 153–​64 (n. 35); Welzel, Die Naturrechtslehre Samuel Pufendorfs, pp. 74–​9 (n. 8); Simone
Zurbuchen, ‘Samuel Pufendorfs Theorie der Staatsformen und ihre Bedeutung für die Theorie der
modernen Republik’, in Naturrecht und Staatstheorie, pp. 138–​60 (n. 38).
83  See Pufendorf, De Systematibus Civitatum, para. 2, p. 266 (n. 16).
84  In Pufendorf ’s view, such associations of states ruled over by a single king, are, in turn, formed
either by virtue of marriage among ruling dynasties or of transmission of entitlement to sovereignty
by inheritance, this giving rise to personal unions, or also on the basis of a contractual agreement
between sovereigns, which brings about real unions. On the distinction between personal unions and
real unions, cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VII, ch. V, paras. XVII–​XVIII, pp. 202–​6 (n. 3).
85  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VII, ch. V, para. XVIII, pp. 204–​6 (n. 3).
86  Cf. Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, p. 38 (n. 1).
87  See Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, p. 38 (n. 1).
88  Cf. Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, p. 57 (n. 1).
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Samuel Pufendorf 213

obligation of non-​aggression (alterum non laedere) and the duties of humanity.89

Therefore, the ‘treaties of friendship’ do not establish anything other than what rul-
ers are bound to do according to the principles of natural law. Agreements of this
kind thus add nothing to the law of nature, making them unnecessary for civilized
peoples who are accustomed to respecting the law of humanity (lex humanitatis).90
Conversely, the sometimes vague content of the natural duties of international law
is elaborated on and specified by those leagues that Pufendorf differentiates between
as equal and unequal.91 In general, such leagues—​whether equal or unequal—​aim,
in the practical sphere, to specify the more indeterminate precepts of natural law
precisely through the pursuit of the fundamental goal of ‘creating a situation of
dynamic balance of power, which concept (if not the term itself ) is recurrent in the
political writings of Pufendorf ’.92 With this common purpose, the first, or equal,
type of league is the foedera, that are based on the perfect equality of both parties.93
In contrast, the second, or unequal, type of alliance, ‘occur[s]‌because there are con-
siderable differences between the powers’,94 and the alliance is therefore based on
a foedus inaequale establishing a disparity between performance and consideration,
making one of the allies inferior to the other.95
As we have seen so far, also from the characteristics of such alliances—​which
specify the more indeterminate offices of humanity that substantiate Pufendorf ’s
international law—​it is possible to see the general role played by international con-
ventions, which are treated by Pufendorf like private contracts between citizens
having a customary rather than positive nature.96 In fact, the agreements between
states, like the aforementioned private contracts between citizens, have in inter-
national society the specific function of ‘turning the universal duties of humanity
towards our fellows into coercible rights’.97 In other words, in Pufendorf ’s view, a
contract, including international ones, ‘serves’ as an instrument of political pru-
dence, ‘the fulfilment of the duties’98 of humanity, prescribed by the law of nations,
as a moral politics. For this reason, such international agreements turn out not to be
‘means of free disposal, but instruments for organising duties relating to the aid’99 of
other states. Therefore, if treaties between states are essentially means of prudently

89  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IX, para. II, p. 467 (n. 3).
90  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IX, para. II, p. 467 (n. 3).
91  Cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IX, para. III, p. 468 (n. 3).
92  Cf. Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, p. 56 (n. 1). On the notion of balance between the
European powers in Samuel Pufendorf, cf. Hans Fenske, under ‘Gleichgewicht, Balance’, in Otto
Brunner, Werner Conze, and Reinhart Koselleck (eds.), Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe:  Historisches
Lexikon zur politisch-​sozialen Sprache in Deutschland (1975); on Pufendorf see pp. 969–​70.
93  On alliances between equals, cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IX, para. III, pp. 468–​9 (n. 3).
94  See once again Bazzoli, ‘La concezione pufendorfiana’, p. 56 (n. 1).
95  On unequal alliances, cf. Pufendorf, De Jure, bk. VIII, ch. IX, para. IV, pp.  469–​71 (n. 3).
Pufendorf returns to the distinction between equal and unequal foedera also in his De Republica irregu-
lari, para. 12, pp. 406–​9 (n. 82).
96  Cf. n. 75, above.
97  Cf. Klaus Luig, ‘Pufendorfs Lehre von der Wirksamkeit des Staates und das Privatrecht’, in
Pufendorf und seine Wirkungen, p. 95 (n. 2).
98  See Luig, ‘Pufendorfs Lehre’, p. 96 (n. 97).
99  Cf. Luig, ‘Pufendorfs Lehre’, p. 95 (n. 97).
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214 Vanda Fiorillo

putting into practice the moral duties of the law of nations, then there is no space
in Pufendorf ’s internationalistic theory for a ‘selfish contractual freedom’.100 In
this regard, it is true that international conventions are manifestations of the equal
freedom of states in practice, i.e. their equal faculty to judge and decide on matters
concerning their own self-​preservation and security. Nevertheless, given the (subor-
dinate) relationship of prudence to moral politics—​which also appears implicit in
Pufendorf ’s internationalistic conception—​‘the administration of mutual security
by a state is the only way in which self-​interested natural liberties can be necessarily
related to other-​oriented natural obligations’.101 This shows after all that the con-
tent of such international conventions—​precisely because they are directed towards
the practical realization of the duties of peace—​is ‘in absolute terms, more what is
[morally] due, than what is wanted ’.102 For this reason, even in exchanges between
states ‘there cannot be (…) total contractual freedom oriented solely to the will of
the single individual’.103 On such a basis, in Pufendorf ’s view, the field of free nego-
tiation between states, for example, regarding alliances or trade—​far from being a
space of unbridled competitive selfishness—​integrates ‘a model of cooperation’104
between peoples inspired by the moral criteria suggested by the law of nations as
natural law.

III. Conclusion

In summary, Pufendorf creates a model of international ethico-​political order which,

being based on a concept of international law as a set of duties of peace, shows a
balance rooted, in the first instance, in the moral dynamics of these duties. These
dynamics mean that relations are set up between states, which—​far from corre-
sponding, as in the case of Hobbes, to a mere collision of opposing forces—​are
ethical in nature, because they are founded on the correlation between the (moral)
fulfilment of the obligations of peace and the undisturbed exercise of the natural
rights of states, and, above all, their free faculty of self-​preservation and security.
However, given the not always sufficient applicability of the law of humanity on the
ethical plane alone, Pufendorf recognizes—​this time inspired for his part by politi-
cal realism—​the necessity for the duties of peace to be opportunely converted into
the practice of international relations with the help of merely instrumental political
criteria which, as such, must be constantly animated by the supreme moral aspira-
tion to realize peace among peoples.

100  Cf. Luig, ‘Pufendorfs Lehre’, p. 95 (n. 97).

101 Krieger, The Politics of Discretion, p. 169 (n. 35). However, in denying the connection in
Pufendorf between theory and practice in inter-​state relationships, this critic concludes his argument
recognizing ‘no logical or legal relationship between the interests of state and the universal obligations
of natural law in the international field’. This is precisely because of the absence in this field of a political
power above sovereign entities: cf. Krieger, The Politics of Discretion, p. 169 (n. 35).
102  Cf. Luig, ‘Pufendorfs Lehre’, p. 97 (my italics) (n. 97).
103  Cf. Luig, ‘Pufendorfs Lehre’, p. 96 (n. 97).
104  Cf. Luig, ‘Pufendorfs Lehre’, p. 96 (n. 97).
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Samuel Pufendorf 215

It is possible, on these grounds, to state conclusively that it is precisely the dialec-

tical relationship that Pufendorf establishes between international law, as a moral
politics, and the interests of states as an expression of pragmatic politics, that consti-
tutes the thin ‘red line’ that keeps the disparate elements, be they moral or political,
united and in which he roots his concept of international law. Consequently, only
by taking into account the dual, but interdependent conceptual level on which
Pufendorf ’s discussion of international relations unfolds, is it possible to recognize
the inherent organic nature of his conception of the law of nations, based on both
natural law and political principles, which, if they are considered unrelated, cannot
but appear highly contradictory. With his model of cooperation between peoples,
constantly underpinned by the latent but tenacious dialectic between the moral and
pragmatic planes of politics, Pufendorf effectively creates ‘a major general vision
(…) of international order, which is [certainly] not lacking in organic conceptual
unity’.105

Selected Bibliography
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Fiorillo (ed.), Samuel Pufendorf, filosofo del diritto e della politica, International Conference
Proceedings, Milan, 11–​12 November 1994 (Naples: La Città del Sole, 1996), pp. 29–​72.
Bazzoli, Maurizio, Il piccolo stato nell’età moderna. Studi su un concetto della politica interna-
zionale tra XVI e XVIII secolo (Milan: Jaca Book, 1990).
Klenner, Hermann, ‘Bileams Pferd auf die Kanzeln! Zur Naturrechts-​und Völkerrechtslehre
des Samuel Pufendorf ’, in Bodo Geyer, Helmut Goerlich (eds.), Samuel Pufendorf und
seine Wirkungen bis auf die heutige Zeit (Baden-​Baden: Nomos, 1996), pp. 195–​208.
Reibstein, Ernst, ‘Pufendorfs Völkerrechtslehre’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Öffentliches
Recht, vol. VII (1956), pp. 43–​72.
Reibstein, Ernst, Völkerrecht: Eine Geschichte seiner Ideen in Lehre und Praxis. I. Von der
Antike bis zur Aufklärung (Munich: Karl Alber, 1957), on Pufendorf pp. 488–​95.
Stolleis, Michael, ‘Textor und Pufendorf über die Ratio Status Imperii im Jahre 1667’, in
M. Stolleis (ed.), Staat und Staatsräson in der frühen Neuzeit. Studien zur Geschichte des
öffentlichen Rechts (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1990), pp. 106–​33.

105  Cf. Maurizio Bazzoli, Il piccolo stato nell’età moderna. Studi su un concetto della politica internazi-
onale tra XVI e XVIII secolo (1990), p. 65.
216

11
Christian Wolff
System as an Episode?

Thomas Kleinlein

Christian Wolff is known as an encyclopaedic ‘systematizer of all areas of knowl-

edge’,1 and his contribution to international legal thought has also received praise,
specifically for having brought international law into a system. Dietrich Heinrich
Ludwig von Ompteda wrote in 1785: ‘Grotius raised natural international law
to the dignity of a science, Wolff was the first to give it a complete order and
bring it into a system.’2 Still, international lawyers today mostly know Wolff best
as Vattel’s precursor, a scholar chronologically somewhere between Grotius and
Vattel, from whom Vattel distanced himself because he did not know what to
make of his systematic method and his unrealistic claim of a supreme state termed
‘civitas maxima’. What Wolff considered to be his original contribution to the
study of international law—​his systematic method—​therefore got lost early on in
the further history of international legal thought. Therefore, despite the fact that
Wolff was a very renowned scholar in his time, his systematic method apparently
remained an episode in international legal thought. The aim of this chapter is to
explain the reasons for this peculiar development: it sets out by presenting a short
overview of the life and work of Wolff as a universal systematizer and champion
of academic freedom (I) before turning to the significance of methodological con-
siderations in the development of international legal thought from Grotius via
Wolff to Vattel (II). The next section analyses in detail Wolff’s systematic method
and its implications for his writings on jus gentium (III). The final section presents
three transitions in international legal thought that are already discernible, but not
explicit, in Wolff’s writings. Arguably, this ambiguity contributes to explaining
Wolff’s later reception (IV).

1  Knud Haakonssen, ‘Christian Wolff (1679-​1754)’, in Bardo Fassbender and Anne Peters (eds.),
The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law, pp. 1106–​9, at p. 1106.
2  Dietrich Heinrich Ludwig von Ompteda, Litteratur des gesammten sowohl natürlichen als posi-
tiven Völkerrechts nebst vorangeschickter Abhandlung von dem Umfange des gesammten sowohl natürli-
chen als positiven Völkerrechts, und Ankündigung eines zu bearbeitenden vollständigen Systems desselben
(Regensburg, 1785), p. 328 (my own translation).

Christian Wolff: System as an Episode? Thomas Kleinlein. © Thomas Kleinlein, 2017. Published 2017
by Oxford University Press.
 217

Christian Wolff 217

I.  A Universal Systematizer and Champion of Academic Freedom

The eighteenth-​century polymath Wolff was born in Breslau, Silesia, which was
at the time a Protestant part of the Habsburg monarchy, on 24 January 1679.3
From 1699 on, he studied at the University of Jena, first divinity, then focusing
on mathematics and natural sciences. After he had finished his studies in Leipzig,
Wolff was invited to be a staff member of the leading German scholarly journal, the
Acta Eruditorum Lipsiensium. Strongly supported by Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz,
Wolff became a professor of mathematics at the University of Halle in 1706. He
succeeded both as a lecturer, later also covering the field of philosophy and finally
physics—​which implied an additional nomination as professor of physics—​and as
a scholar. He was elected as Fellow of the Royal Society in London, became a mem-
ber of the Berlin, St. Petersburg, and Paris Academies and later a Prussian Hofrat
(court councillor).
The career of this prolific and celebrated teacher and scholar was interrupted
abruptly. In 1723, Wolff was dismissed from his position by the Prussian King
Frederick William I (known as the ‘soldier king’), who also ordered that Wolff had
to leave the city of Halle and all other Prussian lands within 48 hours or suffer
punishment by the rope. Wolff was forced to flee because he had given a lecture in
which he expressed his admiration for Chinese philosophy, the Oratio de Sinarum
philosophia practica.4 For Wolff, Chinese philosophy demonstrated that there was a
transcultural natural morality available to any reasonable human being without the
help of divine revelation. This obviously provoked his pietist colleagues in Halle,
who were reportedly jealous of his success anyway, and who charged him with
heresy. Fortunately, Wolff did not have to worry about his future. He merely had
to travel to Marburg in Hesse. There, he accepted a professorship that had been
offered to him earlier. Far from damaging his career, the affair contributed to Wolff’s
international reputation as a ‘martyr of science’,5 and his renown spread through-
out Europe. Even twentieth-​century observers stress Wolff’s paramount importance

3  On Wolff’s biography, see Johann Christoph Gottsched, Historische Lobschrift des weiland hoch= und
wohlgebohrnen Herrn Herrn Christians, des H.R.R. Freyherrn von Wolf, Erb=Lehn= und Gerichtsherrn auf
Klein=Dölzig, Sr. Königl. Maj. in Preussen geheimen Raths, der Universität zu Halle Kanzlers und Seniors,
wie auch des Natur= und Völkerrechts und der Mathematik daselbst, Der kaiserl. Akademie zu Petersburg
Prof. honor. der königl. Akad. der Wissenschaften zu London, Paris, Berlin und der zu Bologna, Mitglied.
Nebst des hochseligen Freyherrn Kupferbilde (1755); Wolfgang Drechsler, ‘Christian Wolff (1679-​1754):
A Biographical Essay’, E.J.L. & E. 4(2/​3) (1997), 111–​28, at 111; Otfried Nippold, ‘Introduction
(1917)’, in Joseph H. Drake (ed.), Christian Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764)
vol. 13; and James Brown Scott, The Classics of International Law (1934), pp. ix–​lii, at xi–​xxiv.
4  Christian Wolff, Oratio de Sinarum philosophia practica: Rede über die praktische Philosophie der
Chinesen, ed. Michael Albrecht (1985). English translation: Anonymous, The Real Happiness of a People
Under a Philosophical King Demonstrated: Not only from the Nature of Things, but from the undoubted
Experience of the Chinese under their first Founder Fohi, and his Illustrious Succcessors, Hoam Ti, and Xin
Num (1750). See Mark Larrimore, ‘Orientalism and Antivoluntarism in the History of Ethics: On
Christian Wolff’s Oratio de Sinarum philosophia practica’, J Religious Ethics 28(2) (2000), 189–​219.
5  Arthur Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (Rev Edn, 1954), p. 151.
218

218 Thomas Kleinlein

for the independence of scholarship. In his introduction to the Classics edition of
Wolff’s Jus gentium methodo scientifica pertractatum, Otfried Nippold praised him as
a ‘champion of academic freedom and unhampered search after truth’.6 Obviously,
the incident also made Wolff an appealing role model for twentieth-​century inter-
national lawyers and their project of an international law that would overcome raw
power politics. Remarkably, in the first paragraph of his Jus gentium, Wolff equates
law and the science of law in his definition of the law of nations: ‘By the Law of
Nations we understand the science of that law which nations or peoples use in
their relations with each other and of the obligations corresponding thereto.’ For
present-​day readers, this only highlights Wolff’s self-​consciousness.7
Wolff received flattering invitations from Saxony, Sweden, and even Russia. In
1740, Frederick II (‘The Great’, the ‘philosopher king’), in one of his first actions as
a monarch, extended to Wolff a very generous invitation. Wolff returned to Halle
where he became a professor of public law and of mathematics, Prussian Geheimer
Rat (privy councillor), and vice chancellor of the university. He remained in Halle
until he died as a wealthy man in 1754. In 1745, Wolff was ennobled and became
a Reichsfreiherr (Imperial Baron of the Holy Roman Empire). Commentators stress
the rather exceptional fact that Wolff—​the champion of academic freedom—​
received this honour exclusively on the basis of his scholarly work.8 Others take a
more critical stance, pointing to Wolff’s lack of familiarity with affairs of state or
with the practice of law.9 In any case, at the end of his career, Wolff’s popularity
as a teacher was in decline, as apparently even a Royal commission in 1748 noted.
Hegel is often quoted for his seemingly malicious remark that Wolff ‘had survived
his acclaim, and in the end, his auditorium was completely empty’.10

II.  Grotius, Wolff, Vattel, and the Riddle of Scientific Method

Wolff’s writing began to focus completely on practical philosophy and on natural

and international law only after his return to Halle.11 Accordingly, his contributions
to the study of international law appear, at first, to be contained in late works. The

6  Nippold, ‘Introduction (1917)’ (n. 3), p. xvi.

7  As another twentieth-​century writer remarked, it also points to the significance of scholarship,
especially in international law, where a real lawmaking procedure is absent: see Walter Schiffer, The
Legal Community of Mankind: A Critical Analysis of the Modern Concept of World Organization (1954),
p. 73. Nicholas Greenwood Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’, Am.
J. Int’l L. 88(2) (1994), 280–​303, at 284, criticized that the identification of law with the science of
that law was ‘muddled’.
8  Drechsler, ‘Christian Wolff ’ (n. 3), pp. 117–​18.
9 Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (n. 5), p. 151.
10  Georg Wilhlem Friedrich Hegel, Vorlesungen über die Geschichte der Philosophie, als Vorschule
zur Encyklopaedie, mit einigen Anführungen und Anmerkungen zur Erlaeuterung, Verteidigung oder
Berichtigung, für den akademischen Gebrauch, ed. Gerardus Johannes Petrus Josephus Bolland (1908),
p. 940 (my own translation).
11  Ernst Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’, ZaöRV 15 (1953–​
1954), 76–​102, at 81. Also, see Masaharu Yanagihara, Borufu-​no-​kokusaihoriron (Christian Wolff’s
Theory of International Law) (1998) (in Japanese).
 219

Christian Wolff 219

relevant works Jus gentium methodo scientifica pertractatum12 and the Institutiones
juris naturae et gentium,13 in German: Grundsätze des Natur-​und Völckerrechts,14
were only published in 1750 and 1754, respectively. However, the earlier multi-​
volume treatise Jus naturae, methodo scientifica pertractatum (1740–​1748)15 must
not be overlooked. Actually, the volume on Jus gentium brought Wolff’s Jus natu-
rae to a conclusion, and the whole work represents a jus naturae et gentium,16 the
Institutiones offering a brief take of the whole subject. Furthermore, Wolff had edited
Grotius’s De jure belli ac pacis as early as 1734.17 Apparently, he had long considered
himself a methodologically superior successor of Grotius. In the introduction to
his Grotius edition, Wolff writes that Grotius abided by a way of teaching that was
common ‘before we had thought about a thorough method of scholarly presenta-
tion’. Wolff regarded it as his discovery that Grotius started from fundamental ideas
that could ‘easily be brought into a system’. According to Wolff’s own account, the
substantive overlap of Grotius’s teachings and Wolff’s philosophy was considerable.
It was the method and not the substance that made the difference.18
This insistence on a systematic method was received in a dubious manner. In
international law scholarship, Wolff is taken as an authority for jus cogens19 or for
the doctrine of fundamental rights of states,20 and we can also find a theory of
customary international law as tacit agreements in his treatise.21 What Wolff con-
sidered to be his main achievement beyond Grotius, his systematic method, by con-
trast, obviously did not achieve a sustainable impact. Generally, scholars across the
disciplines tend to have strong views on Wolff’s writings:22 the philosopher Ernst

12  Christian Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764), ed. Joseph H. Drake
(1934); Christian Wolff, Jus Gentium, methodo scientifica pertractatum, in quo jus gentium naturale ab
eo, quod voluntarii, pactitii et consuetudinarii est, accurate distinguitur (1749), ed. Marcel Thomann
(1972).
13  Christian Wolff, Institutiones juris naturae et gentium: in quibus ex ipsa hominis natura continuo
nexu omnes obligationes et jura omnia deducuntur (1754); Christian Wolff, Institutiones juris naturae et
gentium, ed. Marcel Thomann (1969).
14  Christian Wolff, Grundsätze des Natur-​und Völckerrechts, ed. Marcel Thomann (1980).
15  Christian Wolff, Jus Naturae, methodo scientifica pertractatum (1740–​1748), ed. Marcel Thomann,
8 vols (1968–​1972).
16  Nippold, ‘Introduction (1917)’ (n. 3), at xxvi.
17  Christian Wolff (ed.), Hugo Grotius, De jure belli ac pacis: Editio nova cum annotatis et praefatione
Chr. Wolfii (1734); see Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’ (n. 11).
18 Wolff (ed.), Hugo Grotius, De jure belli ac pacis (n. 17), Introduction, excerpts reprinted in
Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’ (n. 11), p. 77 (the translations
are my own).
19  Marcel Thomann, ‘Introduction’, ed. Marcel Thomann, in Christian Wolff Gesammelte Werke,
Abteilung III, vol. 25 (1972), pp. V–​LI; critically Stefan Kadelbach, ‘The Function and Identification
of Jus Cogens Norms’, NYIL 46 (2015), 147–72, at 150: invention of nineteenth-​century Pandectism.
20 Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (n. 5) p. 152; Miloš Vec, ‘Grundrechte der
Staaten: Die Tradierung des Natur-​und Völkerrechts der Aufklärung’, RG 18 (2011), 66–​94, 70, pas-
sim; Helmut Philipp Aust, ‘Fundamental Rights of States: Constitutional Law in Disguise?’, CJICL 5
(2016), 521–46, at 525–6.
21 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 24.
22  Critically, Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’ (n. 11): ‘super-
latives and summary judgments’. For a collection of some statements of philosophers, see Francis
Cheneval, Philosophie in weltbürgerlicher Bedeutung:  Über die Entstehung und die philosophischen
20

220 Thomas Kleinlein

Bloch severely criticized his philosophy as an apology of the mercantilist welfare
and police state,23 while Ernst Cassirer praised him as a father of human rights.24
Henry Wheaton, in his History of the Law of Nations, regarded Wolff’s works as an
‘injudicious attempt to apply the phraseology and forms of mathematics to moral
sciences which do not admit of this strict method of reasoning’.25 The legal scholar
Josef Kohler accused Wolff of a ‘philistine intellectual impoverishment’ that buried
Grotian natural law,26 and Arthur Nussbaum, in his Concise History of the Law of
Nations, admonished that Wolff’s ‘pseudo-​mathematical’ syllogistic way of reason-
ing lead him to ‘frequent pretentious trivialities and tautologies’.27
In the international law scholarship, Wolff’s reception is largely influenced by
how his ‘translator’ Vattel presented his writings, and this presentation is rather
enigmatic on the face of it. As said before, Wolff distinguishes himself from Grotius
by explicitly underlining the significance of his system and his method. The signifi-
cance of method is already highlighted by the subtitle ‘methodo scientifica pertrac-
tatum’ (‘treated according to a scientific method’). In the preface of his Jus gentium,
Wolff states: ‘And in that we part company with Grotius, to whose time system was
an unknown name, an abuse which still exists in our time …’.28 A generation later,
Vattel—​in a move comparable to Wolff’s insistence on the continuity in substance
between Grotius and himself—​admits to drawing heavily on Wolff’s authority and
‘borrowing’ from him. In turn, Vattel criticizes Wolff’s systematic method:
The treatise of the philosopher of Hall[e]‌on the law of nations is dependent on all those of
the same author on philosophy and the law of nature. In order to read and understand it, it
is necessary to have previously studied sixteen or seventeen quarto volumes which precede
it. Besides, it is written in the manner and even in the formal method of geometrical works.
[…] The method followed by Monsieur Wolf has had the effect of rendering his work dry,
and in many respects incomplete. The different subjects are scattered through it in a manner
that is extremely fatiguing to the attention… .29
Accordingly, what Wolff claims to be his major achievement compared to Grotius’s
earlier work—​his systematic method—​is turned against him by Vattel as his

Grundlagen des supranationalen und kosmopolitischen Denkens der Moderne, vol. 4, Schwabe philosoph-
ica (2002), 134.
23  See Ernst Bloch, Natural Law and Human Dignity, Dennis J. Schmidt, Studies in Contemporary
German Social Thought (1986); Bloch, Natural Law and Human Dignity (n. 23), at pp. 50–​1.
24  See Ernst Cassirer, Freiheit und Form: Studien zur deutschen Geistesgeschichte (3rd edn, 1961), pp.
314–​15.
25  Henry Wheaton, History of the Law of Nations in Europe and America: From the Earliest Times to
the Treaty of Washington, 1842 (1845), p. 177.
26  Josef Kohler, ‘Die spanischen Naturrechtslehrer des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts’, ARSP 10(3)
(1917), 235–​63, 236 (my own translation).
27  Arthur Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (1947), p. 153. Like Wheaton before
him, Nussbaum considered Wolff’s method, at least as applied to the social sciences, ‘a delusion’ because
social sciences required a different method from mathematics.
28 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), p. 8.
29  Emer de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Or, Principles of the Law of Nature, of Nations and Sovereigns,
with Three Early Essays on the Origin and Nature of Natural Law and on Luxury, ed. Béla Kapossy and
Richard Whatmore (2008), p. 12.
 21

Christian Wolff 221

severest flaw. On the one hand, both Wolff and Vattel treat method as an issue of
presentation. On the other hand, Vattel is unsatisfied with Wolff’s civitas maxima
and acknowledges only a society of nations.30 Vattel does not make this explicit, but
this transposition seems to be closely related to the change in method. The meaning
of method therefore seems to reach beyond issues of presentation, or style.
The fact that Vattel praised Wolff as a scholarly authority and still distanced
himself from Wolff is well known. In light of how Wolff distinguished himself
from Grotius, however, this move is rather puzzling: how could Vattel claim closely
to follow Wolff and change, of all things, the very method that took centre stage
for Wolff? Was Wolff’s system just an episode in the history of international legal
thought and, if so, why?
One reason for the twists in Wolff’s reception arguably are due to the fact that
his jus gentium—​published right in the middle of the eighteenth century—​needs
to be situated in the middle of three major shifts in international legal thought
that are already visible in his work, but not fleshed out clearly because Wolff—​in a
somehow indecisive attitude and a self-​perception of timelessness—​does not break
with the past and includes the new ideas seemingly seamlessly. This is why we can
see both continuity and change when we compare Grotius and Wolff and Wolff and
Vattel, respectively. Arguably, the three major shifts are (1) the autonomization of
international law from the old jus gentium et naturae, (2) an interrelated transition
from natural law to positivism, and (3) a shift from law to political economy. We
will approach these shifts in two steps. A short presentation of Wolff’s method and
its major implications for his approach to international law (III.) will be followed
by a contextualization of all three shifts and an analysis of how they rendered Wolff’s
writings ambiguous in the eyes of later readers (IV.).

III.  The Systematizer’s Scientific Method and International Law

1. The logical or mathematical method

and Wolff’s system of science
In the dedicatory letter at the beginning of his Jus gentium, Wolff claimed to ‘com-
municate a knowledge’ of the law of nations by the same scientific method which
he had used in all of the law of nature and in other departments of philosophy.31
Wolff saw human knowledge in a continuous progress and believed that there was
an intelligible order and interconnectedness between the many different subjects
of human inquiry.32 His claim of ultimate authority that Wolff attaches to his

30  Ibid., p. 14; on the limited consequences of this difference, see Peter Haggenmacher, ‘Le modèle
de Vattel et la discipline du droit international’, in Vincent Chetail and Peter Haggenmacher (eds.),
Vattel’s International Law in a XXIst Century Perspective, vol. 9, Graduate Institute of International and
Development Studies (2011), pp. 3–​48, at pp. 38–​46.
31 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), p. 3.
32  Matt Hettche, ‘Christian Wolff’, in Edward N. Zalta (ed.), Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy
(Winter 2014 Edition), <http://​plato.stanford.edu/​archives/​win2014/​entries/​wolff-​christian/​>.
2

222 Thomas Kleinlein

universally applicable method would not allow him to focus on any field of knowl-
edge in isolation. Wolff’s integration of the scholarly disciplines by deductions
from highest principles ‘more geometrico’ with the aim of consistency establishes a
complex meshwork of syllogisms.33 Following in Leibniz’s footsteps, the rationalist
polymath Wolff claims that the mathematical method as a universal method can be
consistently applied across all areas of knowledge.34
Due to its overarching character, method determines the architecture of Wolff’s
philosophical system.35 The basis of Wolff’s universal science36 is the ‘metaphysica
generalis’, which he identifies with ontology.37 The highest principles in ontol-
ogy are the principle of sufficient reason and the principle of non-​contradiction.38
Ontology is followed by the ‘metaphysica specialis’. The system further spreads
out to physics and finally practical philosophy. Practical philosophy is made up of
general practical philosophy and natural law as theoretical disciplines (consisting
of the parts of jus naturale ethicum,39 oeconomicum,40 and politicum (jus publicum
universale).41 The practical counterparts of these parts of the natural law are practi-
cal ethics,42 economics,43 and politics.44 Remarkably, the classical social studies—​
ethics, economics, and politics—​are transferred to legal concepts in this structure.45
In practical philosophy and natural law, Wolff’s method aims at founding social
norms in seemingly objective and therefore neutral grounds. The background of
this kind of a secular natural law in general is provided by the experience of the reli-
gious war. Wolff pushes this idea of scientific objectivism to its limits, thereby also

33  Klaus-​Gert Lutterbeck, Staat und Gesellschaft bei Christian Thomasius und Christian Wolff: Eine
historische Untersuchung in systematischer Absicht (2002) pp. 144–​5.
34  Ibid., pp. 146–​8. 35  Ibid., p. 149.
36  For an outline of Wolff’s system of science, see Christian Wolff, Discursus praeliminaris de philoso-
phia in genere, Einleitende Abhandlung über die Philosophie im Allgemeinen, historisch-​kritische Ausgabe
(1728), eds. Günter Gawlick and Lothar Kreimendahl (1996), Caput III: De partibus Philosophiae,
§§ 55–​114; Christian Wolff, Philosophia rationalis sive logica, pars II sive practica, ed. Jean École (1983),
§ 829 (here distinguishing himself from the scholastic method). On the structure of Wolff’s philoso-
phy, see also Jean École, ‘Introduction de l’éditeur’, in Jean École (ed.), Philosophia rationalis sive logica,
pars I sive theoretica vol. 1.2, Christian Wolff, Gesammelte Werke. II. Abteilung, Lateinische Schriften
(1983), V–​LXXXVII, XIV–​XXXIV, in particular the chart on pp. XXVIII–​XX.
37 Wolff, Discursus praeliminaris de philosophia in genere, Einleitende Abhandlung über die Philosophie
im Allgemeinen, historisch-​kritische Ausgabe (1728) (n. 36), § 73. By making ontology the basis of his
universal science, Wolff follows Leibniz’s example. See Lutterbeck, Staat und Gesellschaft bei Christian
Thomasius und Christian Wolff (n. 33), pp. 146–​8.
38  Christian Wolff, Philosophia prima sive Ontologia, ed. Jean École (1977) §§ 27, 56; Lutterbeck,
Staat und Gesellschaft bei Christian Thomasius und Christian Wolff (n. 33) 151.
39 Wolff, Jus Naturae, methodo scientifica pertractatum (1740–​1748) (n. 15), vol I.
40  Ibid., vol VII. 41  Ibid., vol VIII.
42  Christian Wolff, Philosophia moralis sive ethica, methodo scientifica pertractata (5 vols, 1750–​
1753), eds. Jean École et al., 5 vols (1970–​1973).
43  Oeconomica, methodo scientifica pertractata, pars prima, in qua agitur de societatibus minoribus
conjugali, paterna et herili; pars reliqua, continuata et absoluta a Michaele Christophoro Hanovio, 2 vols,
reprint of the first edition, Halle 1754 and 1755, 1972 (partly authored by Wolff’s disciple Hanov).
44  Michael Christoph Hanov and Christian Wolff, Philosophia civilis sive politica: exhibens prin-
cipia cum generalia politicae publicae tum simplicibus civitatem formus propria, vol. 47, Christian Wolff,
Gesammelte Werke. III. Abteilung, Materialien und Dokumente, ed. Jean École, Hans Werner Arndt,
J.E. Hofmann, and R. Thies (1998) (I–​IV, partly authored by Wolff’s disciple Hanov).
45 Lutterbeck, Staat und Gesellschaft bei Christian Thomasius und Christian Wolff (n. 33), p. 183.
 23

Christian Wolff 223

demonstrating his ambitious understanding of the role of the scholar or, as some
would claim, of himself as a scholar.46 Nevertheless, he does not break radically with
the so-​called Schulphilosophie or scholasticism. Rather, he tries to update classical
thought and aims at a scientification of teleology.47
In Wolff’s thought, logic as a general theory of knowledge provides the rules for
reaching reliable conclusions in any scientific discipline, and it is also a path to a
synthetic knowledge of the legal system.48 Logic serves to ascertain a priori objective
knowledge, the transcendental ‘essence’ of objects, or philosophical truth.49 Objects
in their ‘existence’ vary in an unpredictable manner, whilst in their ‘essence’ they
are always the same, necessary and identical with themselves.50 Since it is impos-
sible that something can arise out of nothing (ex nihilo nihil fit),51 everything that
exists in time and space (existentia) must have its basis in something else (essentia)
from which one can comprehend why it exists: a sufficient ground (ratio sufficiens,
Leibniz) to its existence. Wolff calls this the principle of sufficient reason.52 Based
on the so-​called principle of contradiction, Wolff claims that that which constitutes
the reason cannot at the same time be based on something else, for what necessarily
exists in this way requires no further ground for why it exists in this way.53 That
which is in itself the reason for everything else is the ‘being’. It becomes perceivable
to reason only through its manifestations. In a movement from possibility to reality,
the manifestation is determined temporally and spatially—​it is individualized and
attaches accidental and coincidental attributes to necessary ones.
In parallel with Aristotle’s distinction between knowledge of the cause of the fact
and knowledge of fact,54 Wolff distinguishes philosophical and historical knowl-
edge:  philosophical or scientific knowledge relates to essentia. Philosophy must
strive to attain ‘absolute certainty’; in other words, it must be a science that proves its
assertions by deriving conclusions ‘from certain and unshakable principles by valid

46 For a critique of Wolff’s monologist and restricted understanding of scholarship, see Frank
Grunert, ‘Absolutism(s): Necessary Ambivalences in the Political Theory of Christian Wolff’, Tijds
Rgeschied 73(1) (2005), 141–​52, at 145–​7.
47  Max Wundt, Die deutsche Schulphilosophie im Zeitalter der Aufklärung, vol. 32, Heidelberger
Abhandlungen zur Philosophie und ihrer Geschichte (1945), pp. 151–​2.
48  Claes Peterson, ‘What Has Logic Got to Do with It? On the Use of Logic in Christian Wolff’s
Theory of Natural Law’, Sc.St.L. 48 (2005), 310–​20, at 310.
49 For a comprehensive study on Wolff’s method, see Juan Ignacio Gómez Tutor, Die wissen-
schaftliche Methode bei Christian Wolff, vol. 90, Christian Wolff, Gesammelte Werke. III. Abteilung,
Materialien und Dokumente, ed. Jean École, Hans Werner Arndt, J.E. Hofmann, and R. Thies (2004).
For this method applied to law, see Herbert Stupp, ‘Mos geometricus oder Prudentia als Denkform der
Jurisprudenz: Eine Untersuchung an Hand der methodologischen Lehren des Christian Wolff und des
Thomas von Aquin’ (1970), pp. 4–​79.
50  Christian Wolff, Vernünfftige Gedancken von Gott, der Welt und der Seele des Menschen, auch
allen Dingen überhaupt (Deutsche Metaphysik), ed. Charles A. Corr (1983), § 576. English translation
(excerpts): Christian Wolff, ‘Rational Thoughts on God, the World and the Soul of Human Beings,
Also All Things in General (1720)’, in Eric Watkins (ed.), Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. Background
Source Materials (2009), pp. 7–​53.
51  Christian Wolff, Vernünftige Gedanken von dem gesellschaftlichen Leben der Menschen und inson-
derheit dem gemeinen Wesen: ‘Deutsche Politik’, ed. Hasso Hofmann (2004), § 28.
52 Ibid., § 30. 53 Ibid., § 32.
54 Aristotle, Posterior Analytics, Edmund Spenser Bouchier ed. (1901) Book I, ch. XIII.
24

224 Thomas Kleinlein

inference’.55 Here, Wolff, like many philosophers of the modern period, believed
that the method of mathematics could be used.56 It rested on the conviction that it
was possible, with the help of logic, to cross over the realm of experience and reach
an a priori reason. So far, Wolff offers a specific formulation of the positions that
Kant would later criticize as ‘pure reason’.57
However, different from other rationalists,58 Wolff insists that there are no a
priori truths, i.e. truths discovered by reason alone, independent of experience.
Philosophical demonstration is not sufficient because a priori reasons lack content
and must be filled in with the help of historical knowledge or induction. This can be
understood as an accommodation of the claims raised by the so-​called empiricists,
like Locke or Newton, who were the contemporary adversaries of the rational-
ists. Actually, Wolff wrote at a time when the intellectual climate was rather hos-
tile towards the authority of reason.59 He undertook to find correct definitions in
which the logical attributes concur with the ontological, reason and experience
being the two paths for cognizing the truth. They correspond to philosophical and
historical knowledge; the former is grounded in the understanding, the latter in
the senses60 and refers to existentia. In a syllogistic way, there are two movements
in knowledge: a movement from experience to reason—​which is inductive, ascend-
ant, or analytical—​, and a movement from reason to experience—​which is deduc-
tive, descendant, or synthetic. The former is the way to demonstrate positive law,
while the latter is applied to demonstrate natural law propositions that stem from
necessary reasons. Wolff therefore provides for a ‘marriage of reason and experi-
ence’,61 and his rationalism is thereby qualified.62
Systematization plays a special role in Wolff’s reasoning. Systematization in the
realm of objects is defined with the help of logic and provides for a path to scientific
knowledge.63 A system is a combination of truths, a concept that appears relatively
late in Wolff’s works. It is closely related to his method because a combination of
propositions in a system constitutes a demonstration. The combination of truths
forms a ‘systema doctrinarum’. In his essay ‘De differentia intellectus systematici &

55 Wolff, Discursus praeliminaris de philosophia in genere, Einleitende Abhandlung über die Philosophie
im Allgemeinen, historisch-​kritische Ausgabe (1728) (n. 36), § 33.
56  Ibid., §139, Wolff states: ‘The philosophical method follows the same rules as the method of
mathematics’ (‘Methodi philosophicae eaedem sunt regulae, quae methodi mathematicae’).
57  See Eric Watkins, ‘Introduction’, in Eric Watkins (ed.), Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason: Background
Source Materials (2009), pp. 1–​4, at p.2.
58  See Tim J. Hochstrasser, Natural Law Theories in the Early Enlightenment, vol. 58, Ideas in
Context (2000), 161, who claims that Wolff—​even in the course of a lengthy correspondence—​failed
to engage fully with the metaphysics of Leibnizian ontology.
59  Hettche, ‘Christian Wolff’ (n. 32).
60 Wolff, Vernünftige Gedanken von dem gesellschaftlichen Leben der Menschen und insonderheit dem
gemeinen Wesen: ‘Deutsche Politik’ (n. 51), § 372.
61  Lewis White Beck, ‘From Leibniz to Kant’, in Robert C. Solomon and Kathleen Marie Higgins
(eds.), The Age of German Idealism. vol. 6, Routledge History of Philosophy (1993), pp. 5–​39, at p. 10.
62  Jean École, ‘En quels sens peut-​on dire que Wolff est rationaliste?’, Studia Leibnitiana 11(1)
(1979), 45–​61.
63  Peterson, ‘What Has Logic Got to Do with It? On the Use of Logic in Christian Wolff’s Theory
of Natural Law’ (n. 48), p. 312.
 25

Christian Wolff 225

non systematici’, which is contained in the first volume of his ‘Horae subsecivae
Marburgenses’,64 Wolff refers to four distinct advantages of demonstration qua
system: First, a combination of propositions makes their truth more evident than
isolated propositions. Second, if one makes sure that the premises of the system are
not erroneous, a system allows a safe development of scholarship. Third, the system
avoids contradictions, and fourth, it makes errors easily detectable.65
Wolff’s understanding of his method somehow disqualifies his image as a champion
of academic freedom. His defence of the libertas philosophandi only refers to those
who engage in philosophy ‘according to philosophical method’, and not to freedom of
thought in general. Wolff also has a narrow understanding of what defines philosophy
and which methods are philosophical. Actually, the true philosophical method is his
own. Philosophical criticism does not take place in a public discourse, but is somehow
monologist and restricted to a certain method.66

2. Meaning and function of the civitas maxima

While the principle of sufficient reason and the principle of non-​contradiction
explained so far determine the form of Wolff’s practical philosophy, the principle
of perfection determines its content. In Wolff’s practical philosophy, ‘perfection’ is a
central concept.67 Wolff derives the notion of perfection from the notions of order
(‘Ordnung’) and truth (‘Wahrheit’).68 Wolff’s legal philosophy as part of his practical
philosophy is built on two lines of argument: on the one hand, he develops a contrac-
tual model of rationalism, using the concepts of fiction, of the fictitious moral person
and the fictitious presumed consent, contract, and quasi-​contract. On the other hand,
he refers to ontological assumptions and natural teleology.69 Supposedly, Wolff is the
last systematic thinker to give this teleological vision unqualified support.70
Optimal perfection will only be reached if all acts of all men and associations
are optimally coordinated in an organized world association. The pursuit of self-​
perfection implies association. Natural law therefore comprises the imperative to
form associations.71 Ultimately, nature herself has established a society among

64  Christian Wolff, Horae subsecivae Marburgenses, anni MDCCXXIX, quibus philosophia ad publi-
cam privatamque utilitatem aptatur, ed. Jean École (1983), pp. 107–​54.
65  On the relation between Wolff’s ‘methodus scientifica’ and system, see Gómez Tutor, Die wis-
senschaftliche Methode bei Christian Wolff (n. 49), pp. 271–​7.
66  Grunert, ‘Absolutism(s): Necessary Ambivalences in the Political Theory of Christian Wolff’ (46),
pp. 145–​6, 150.
67  See Frank Grunert, ‘Vollkommenheit als (politische) Norm: Zur politischen Philosophie von
Christian Wolff, 1679–​1754’, in Bernd Heidenreich and Gerhard Göhler (eds.), Politische Theorien des
17. und 18. Jahrhunderts. Staat und Politik in Deutschland (2011), pp. 164–​84.
68 Wolff, Vernünfftige Gedancken von Gott, der Welt und der Seele des Menschen, auch allen Dingen
überhaupt (Deutsche Metaphysik) (n. 50), §§ 132, 142, 145; cf. Lutterbeck, Staat und Gesellschaft bei
Christian Thomasius und Christian Wolff (n. 33), p. 173.
69  See, generally, Christian Schröer, Naturbegriff und Moralbegründung: Die Grundlegung der Ethik
bei Christian Wolff und deren Kritik durch Immanuel Kant, vol. 3, Münchener philosophische Studien
(1988).
70  Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), p. 283.
71 Wolff, Jus Naturae, methodo scientifica pertractatum (1740-​1748) (n. 15), vol VII, § 138.
26

226 Thomas Kleinlein

mankind and binds them to preserve it. This societas magna represents the associa-
tion of humanity.72 Wolff assumes that, after humanity was divided into nations,
the society that so far had existed between individuals continued to exist between
nations.73 Individual states are equated with ‘individual free persons living in a state
of nature’.74 Optimal self-​perfection cannot be accomplished within the state, but
necessitates the universal civitas.75 States would be established contrary to the law
of nature if their particular societies did away with the societas magna. Accordingly,
states have the natural-​law duty to preserve and perfect themselves by associating
in the civitas maxima.76 In contrast to the societas magna, the civitas maxima is con-
stituted of states as moral persons, an association of associations,77 not a homog-
enous world state.78 The purpose of the civitas maxima is to ‘give mutual assistance
in perfecting itself and its condition’, the ‘promotion of the common good by its
combined powers’.79
With the civitas maxima as an association of associations, Wolff shares an
Aristotelian view of the steps of human association.80 By way of modernizing
Aristotelian metaphysics, Wolff also refers to Leibniz. His civitas maxima builds on
Leibniz’s civitas dei.81 As indicated by the epithet ‘maxima’,82 the civitas maxima is
the most inclusive of all human communities.83 However, even the civitas maxima
is not the endpoint of perfection of individuals, which is unachievable. For Wolff,
the common goal of humanity is identical with the goals of any individual, but can-
not be realized by the individual on its own; rather, it presupposes the optimal co-​
operation in a world system.84 Since Wolff’s natural law does not lay down any goals
external to the pursuit of self-​perfection, it has been called a ‘Hobbesian instrument
of the “self ” ’.85 According to this ‘individualist’ origin, Wolff’s civitas maxima has
an ethical and communitarian purpose, but is a decentralized legal community.

72  Ibid., vol VII, § 142.

73 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 7, commentary.
74 Ibid., § 16.
75  Hanov and Wolff, Philosophia civilis sive politica (n. 44), pars 1, exhibens principia cum generalia
politicae publicae tum simplicibus civitatum formis propria, § 73.
76 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), §§ 8, 9.
77  Ibid., § 10; see Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7),
p. 295; Francis Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian
Wolffs Theorie der civitas maxima’, ARSP 85(4) (1999), 563–​80, at 565.
78  But see Otfried Höffe, ‘Für und wider die Weltrepublik’, IZPh 2 (1997), 218–​33, 224.
79 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 8.
80  Hanns-​Martin Bachmann, Die naturrechtliche Staatslehre Christian Wolffs, vol. 27, Schriften zur
Verfassungsgeschichte (1977), p. 120.
81 Cheneval, Philosophie in weltbürgerlicher Bedeutung (n. 22), p. 132.
82 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 10, commentary; cf. Onuf,
‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), pp. 292–​6.
83  For a dissertation on Wolff’s civitas maxima, see Kurt Prigge, ‘Christian Wolffs Lehre von der
civitas maxima gentium’ (1953).
84  Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian Wolffs
Theorie der civitas maxima’ (n. 77), p. 571.
85 Martti Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia:  The Structure of International Legal Argument
(1989), p. 86.
 27

Christian Wolff 227

Therefore, despite their conceptual differences, the discrepancy between Wolff’s

and Vattel’s teachings may not be as great as one might imagine.86 For Wolff, there
is a reciprocal relationship between the whole and its parts: inasmuch as nations
are understood to have combined in the civitas maxima, the individual nations are
understood to have bound themselves to the whole because they wish to promote
the common good, but the whole to the individuals, because it wishes to provide
for the especial good of the individuals.87 Sovereignty in the civitas maxima is divis-
ible: ‘Some sovereignty over individual nations belongs also to nations as a whole.’88
The civitas maxima is a fiction,89 based on a fictitious treaty, a ‘quasi-​agreement’
between states (‘as if by agreement’):90
[S]‌ince nations, which know the advantages arising therefrom, by a natural impulse are car-
ried into this association, which binds the human race or all nations one to the other, since
moreover it is assumed that others will unite in it, if they know their own interests; what can
be said except that nations also have combined into society as if by agreement? So all nations
are understood to have come together into a state, whose separate nations are separate mem-
bers or individual states.91
Wolff founds any form of association on a contract or quasi-​contract, which he
understands to be of merely hypothetical character, based on conditions of rational
reciprocity and normativity.92 He compares the states’ situation in the civitas max-
ima to tutelage, where it is presumed that the pupil agrees. Comparably, nations are
presumed to agree to this association, even if—​through lack of insight—​they fail to
see how great an advantage it is to be a member of the civitas maxima:
[I]‌n establishing this quasi-​agreement we have assumed nothing which is at variance with
reason, or which may not be allowed in other quasi-​agreements. For that nations are car-
ried into that association by a certain natural impulse is apparent from their acts […].
Therefore do not persuade yourself that there is any nation that is not known to unite to
form the state, into which nature herself commands all to combine. But just as in tutelage
it is rightly presumed that the pupil agrees, in so far as he ought to agree, nay, more, as he
would be likely to agree, if he knew his own interest; so none the less nations which through
lack of insight fail to see how great an advantage it is to be a member of that supreme state,
are presumed to agree to this association. And since it is understood in a civil state that the
tutor is compelled to act, if he should be unwilling to consent of his own accord, but that
even when the agreement is extorted by a superior force that does not prevent the tutelage
from resting upon a quasi-​agreement; why, then, is it not allowable to attribute the same
force to the natural obligation by which nations are compelled to enter into an alliance as

86  Alexander Orakhelashvili, ‘The Origins of Consensual Positivism: Pufendorf, Wolff and Vattel’,
edited by Alexander Orakhelashvili, in Research Handbook on the Theory and History of International
Law. Research Handbooks in International Law (2011), pp. 93–​110, pp. 97–​8.
87 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 12. 88  Ibid, § 15.
89 Ibid., § 21.
90  Ibid., § 9. See Wolfgang Dzialas, ‘Christian Wolffs Völkerrechtstheorie: Herkunft und Wirkung’
(1956) 31: association ‘more geometrico’.
91 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 9.
92  Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian Wolffs
Theorie der civitas maxima’ (n. 77), p. 569.
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228 Thomas Kleinlein

is attributed to the civil obligation, that it is understood to force consent even as from one
unwilling?93
One can well imagine that this comparison with tutelage makes sovereign rulers
uneasy. They would be ready to benefit from scholarly knowledge but not in need
of an academic guardian. Yet, the notions of the quasi-​contract and the presumed
consent, initially only heuristic devices and regulative ideas, also introduce an ele-
ment of paternalism into contract theory.94
Fictions are important for philosophical knowledge, as explained above, phi-
losophy being the science of the possible, insofar as it can be that.95 Fictions are
defined as that which we presume to be possible despite the fact that reality goes
against it.96 They can be understood as the exclusive product of human reason
and are only based on the principle of non-​contradiction.97 Wolff was well aware
of the fact that there was no such thing as a real world state; nor did he suggest
establishing one.98 Therefore, the critique that the civitas maxima does not capture
the reality of international relations99 is somehow misleading. The civitas maxima
is also, quite counterfactually, a ‘kind of democratic form of government’ (‘quidam
popularis’) because nations are free and equal to each other.100 Neither under natu-
ral law nor under the law of nations does power give one nation a special privilege
over another.101

3. Categories of norms
The civitas maxima is considered to be the ‘most original trait of Wolff’s system of
international law’.102 It is also this trait of his system that goes to the core of the dif-
ferences between Wolff and Grotius and the meaning of the civitas maxima. In the
Prolegomena to his Jus gentium, Wolff claims that the concept of a civitas maxima
was not unknown to Grotius, ‘nor was he ignorant of the fact that the law of nations

93 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 9, commentary.
94  Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian Wolffs
Theorie der civitas maxima’ (n. 77), p. 570.
95  Werner Schneiders, ‘Deus est philosophus absolute summus: Über Christian Wolffs Philosophie
und Philosophieverständnis’, in Werner Schneiders (ed.), Christian Wolff 1679–​1754: Interpretationen
zu seiner Philosophie und deren Wirkung, Mit einer Bibliographie der Wolff-​Literatur. vol. 4, Studien
zum achtzehnten Jahrhundert, Deutsche Gesellschaft für die Erforschung des 18. Jahrhunderts
(1983), pp. 9–​30.
96  Ontologia, I, ii, 3, § 140 (my own translation).
97  Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian Wolffs
Theorie der civitas maxima’ (n. 77), p. 567.
98 Schiffer, The Legal Community of Mankind (n. 7), pp. 73–​4.
99  Prigge, ‘Christian Wolffs Lehre von der civitas maxima gentium’ (n. 83), passim; Schiffer, The
Legal Community of Mankind (n. 7), pp. 78 and 319 (endnote 141).
100 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 19.
101 Ibid., § 18.
102  Louis Olive, ‘Wolff’, in Antoine Pillet and Denis Alland (eds.), Les fondateurs du droit interna-
tional (2014), pp. 447–​79, p. 459.
 29

Christian Wolff 229

was based on it, but nevertheless he did not derive from it the law of nations which
is called voluntary, as he could and ought to have done’.103 In Wolff’s system, the
jus gentium voluntarium is directly related to the civitas maxima; it is deduced from
the notion and purpose of the civitas maxima—​‘which nature herself established’
so that nations are bound to agree to that law—​on the basis of the equality of (civi-
lized) states.104 Vattel, in turn, will derive the jus gentium voluntarium essentially
from ‘the natural liberty of nations’.105
The civitas maxima has the right to promulgate ‘laws with respect to those things
which concern it’ and ‘prescribe the means by which its good is maintained’. For
Wolff, it is ‘evident enough of what sort those laws ought to be that nations ought
to agree to’ and consequently may be presumed to have agreed to.106 The actual
practice is, however, less promising:
Nevertheless, since in a democratic state it is necessary that individuals assemble in a definite
place and declare their will as to what ought to be done, since moreover all the nations scat-
tered throughout the whole world cannot assemble together, as is self-​evident, that must
be taken to be the will of all nations which they are bound to agree upon, if following the
leadership of nature they use right reason. Hence it is plain, because it has to be admitted,
that what has been approved by the more civilized nations is the law of nations.107
It is actually approval by ‘the more civilized nations’ that matters. As other writers
before him, Wolff distinguishes between ‘barbarous nations’ and ‘cultured and civi-
lized nations’.108 Not surprisingly, Wolff is therefore also mentioned in the context
of the ‘colonial origins’ of international law.109 Wolff even refers to a fictitious ruler
of the civitas maxima, who promulgates the jus gentium voluntarium:
[H]‌e can be considered the ruler of the supreme state who, following the leadership of
nature, defines by the right use of reason what nations ought to consider as law among
themselves, although it does not conform in all respects to the natural law of nations, nor
altogether differ from it.110
The jus gentium voluntarium is ‘considered to have been laid down by this fictitious
ruler and so to have proceeded from the will of nations’. Wolff points out that
the voluntary law of nations is therefore ‘equivalent to the civil law’ and ‘derived
in the same manner from the necessary law of nations, as […] the civil law must

103 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 10.

104  Ibid., § 20, commentary; § 26. On natural law equality: Wolff, Jus Naturae, methodo scientifica
pertractatum (1740–​1748) (n. 15), vol VIII, §§ 50–​3.
105 Vattel, The Law of Nations, Or, Principles of the Law of Nature, of Nations and Sovereigns, with
Three Early Essays on the Origin and Nature of Natural Law and on Luxury (n. 29), p. 16.
106 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 11, commentary.
107 Ibid., § 20. 108  Ibid., §§ 52, 53.
109 Brett Bowden, ‘The Colonial Origins of International Law. European Expansion and the
Classical Standard of Civilization’, J Hist Int Law 7(1) (2005), 1–​24, at 14–​15. See, however, for
a defence of Wolff, Georg Cavallar, ‘Vitoria, Grotius, Pufendorf, Wolff and Vattel: Accomplices of
European Colonialism and Exploitation or True Cosmopolitans?’, J Hist Int Law 10(2) (2008), 181–​
209, at 200–​4: Wolff’s as ‘The First Culturally Sensitive International Legal Theory’.
110 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 21.
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230 Thomas Kleinlein

be derived from the natural law […]’.111 This distinguishes Wolff from the ‘sorry
comforters’ Vattel, Grotius, and Pufendorf: they do not apply the theory of civil law
to public international law, but continue to work on the theory of just war under
the conditions of the absence of an international ruler under the rule of law.112
The jus gentium voluntarium also reflects the two movements of knowledge. It
is deeply rooted in Wolff’s scientific method and combines reason and experience
by taking into account that ‘the condition of men is such that in a state one cannot
completely satisfy in all details the rigour of the law of nature’. For this reason, Wolff
sees a need of positive laws, ‘which do not differ altogether from the law of nature,
nor observe it in all details’. On the other hand, since the common welfare itself of
nations demands the immutable natural law, nations are none the less bound by
nature to an observance of natural law.113 A post-​modern observer described the jus
gentium voluntarium as a ‘strategy of reconciliation’, ‘a reconciliation between a given
natural law and a law which emerges from international reality’.114 This is obviously
an appropriate way to put it. However, the roots of this reconciliatory strategy go
much deeper and lie in the combination of philosophical and historical knowledge.
The contents of the jus gentium naturale vel necessarium are limited. They include
the duty of states to associate with the civitas maxima, the moral equality of states
and of their rights and obligations115 and a right of the civitas maxima to coerce the
individual states.116 The central natural law obligation is to overcome the state of
nature: exeundum est e statu naturali.117 Natural law, or a ‘necessary law of nations’,
binds nations in conscience.118
Altogether, Wolff distinguishes four categories of norms:  the two categories
already referred to—​the natural or necessary law of nations (jus gentium naturale
vel necessarium) and the voluntary law of nations (jus gentium voluntarium)—​and,
beyond these two categories of ‘universal’ international law, international treaty
or stipulative law (jus gentium pacititium, § 23) and customary international law
(jus gentium consuetudinarium, § 24). The positive law of nations (jus gentium posi-
tivum) is the generic term for the voluntary, the stipulative, and the customary
law of nations.119 However, Wolff is not very interested in the two categories of
the ‘particular’ law of nations, stipulative and customary law.120 The stipulative

111 Ibid., § 22.
112  Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian Wolffs
Theorie der civitas maxima’ (n. 77), p. 564.
113 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), Preface, pp. 5–​6.
114 Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia (n. 85), pp. 86–​7.
115 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 16–​17.
116  Ibid., § 13. See also Wolff, Institutiones juris naturae et gentium (n. 13), § 1089, where Wolff
refers to the equality, liberty, and integrity as contents of the jus gentium naturale.
117 Wolff, Jus Naturae, methodo scientifica pertractatum (1740–​1748) (n. 15), vol 8, § 138; cf. Onuf,
‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), p. 283.
118 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 4.
119 Ibid., § 25.
120  Very critically, Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (n. 5), p. 154, ‘practically
ignored by Wolff’. Nussbaum particularly refers to the law of ambassadors where Wolff’s treatment
contradicts the state of the law. Wolff is obviously aware of this discrepancy, but not interested in
 231

Christian Wolff 231

law of nations derives its validity from natural law, which commands that agree-
ments should be observed (pacta sunt servanda). Wolff divides stipulations into
treaties (which are reciprocally entered into forever or for a considerable time)
and compacts (which contain temporary promises or those not to be repeated).121
Customary international law is presented as a tacit agreement, accordingly also
binding under natural law. Distancing himself from Grotius, Wolff insists that
customary international law be distinguished from the common law of nations,
i.e. natural law or voluntary law. The voluntary law of nations (jus gentium volun-
tarium) is not determined from acts of nations and is ‘not left to their caprice as to
whether they should prefer to agree or not’.122 States, in their actual practice, can
err. This may influence their tacit agreements, but it leaves both the natural and the
voluntary law unaffected.123 Different from Grotius, Wolff is interested neither in
legal sources nor in juristic literature. His references are mostly to his own works,
in particular his Jus Naturae.124 He also cites legal philosophers such as Cicero or
Grotius, albeit very rarely.125
Most of the space is dedicated to the jus gentium voluntarium. The treatise Jus
gentium methodo scientifica pertractatum comprises 1068 paragraphs and covers a
broad area of subjects such as ownership by nations, the law of treaties and other
agreements, the method of settling controversies between nations, the law of war
and the rules of warfare, peace, and peace treaties, and the law of embassies. The
longest chapters refer to the law of treaties and other agreements (ch. IV), the law
of war (ch. VI) and the rules of warfare (ch. VII).126

IV.  Three Transitions and Wolff’s Jus Gentium Voluntarium

We have seen thus far that the particular way in which Wolff understands the jus
gentium voluntarium is closely related to this systematic method and the combina-
tion of philosophical and historical knowledge. Wolff’s method also explains why
the civitas maxima and the jus gentium voluntarium take centre stage, while the jus
gentium pacititium and the jus gentium consuetudinarium are more or less neglected.
We will now move on to analyse in what way it not only represents a reconciliation
between reason and experience, but subconsciously also marks three transitions in

bringing his treatment of the law of nations, necessary or volitional, in line with what Nussbaum would
later call ‘the actual law’.
121 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), § 369.
122  Ibid., § 20, commentary; § 26. 123 Ibid., 7.
124 Wolff, Jus Naturae, methodo scientifica pertractatum (1740–​1748) (n. 15).
125 Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (n. 5), pp. 151–​2.
126  Prolegomena: §§ 1–​26; Ch. I: Of the Duties of Nations to Themselves: §§ 27–​155; Ch. II: Of the
Duties of Nations toward Each Other: §§ 156–​273; Ch. III: Of Ownership by Nations: §§ 274–​367; Ch.
IV: Of Treaties and other Agreements, and Of Promises: §§ 368–​560; Ch. V: Of the Method of Settling
Controversies of Nations: §§ 562–​606; Ch. VI: Of the Law of War of Nations: §§ 607–​776; Ch. VII: Of
the Law of Nations in War: §§ 777–​958; Ch. VIII: Of Peace and the Treaty of Peace: §§ 959–​1040; Ch.
IX: Of the Law of Embassies: §§ 1041–​68.
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232 Thomas Kleinlein

international law scholarship. First, we can observe a process of an autonomization
of international law (1); second, a shift from natural law to positivism (2); and
third, a shifting focus from law to political economy (3). In a paradoxical manner,
Wolff’s specific approach to the study of international law and his scientific method
contributed to these transitions in international legal thought and, at the same
time, hid them behind ambiguity.

1. The autonomization of international law

First, we can locate Wolff in the middle of the autonomization of international law
as a distinct field of law, as ‘a law peculiar to nations’.127 In this regard, Wolff plays
an important role in the emergence of classic international law and can be seen
as a true precursor to Vattel. Jus gentium as understood by Wolff does not apply
to individuals but to nations as moral persons. Obviously for the first time, the
abstract personality of the ‘state’ (and not the ruler) becomes really the exclusive
subject of a distinct category of norms, rights, and duties.128 Essentially, the jus
gentium becomes an independent category of its own as positive law between states.
Different from the jus gentium as known before and in Grotius, it is no longer a law
between human beings. Johannes Althusius, in his Politica methodice digesta,129 had
already clearly expressed the idea of the populus as a fictional corporate person, of
which the ruling individual or group is merely the highest agent.130 Grotius was less
clear in this regard. He spoke of the civitas as the general subject of sovereignty, and
of the ruling individual or group as its particular subject.131 Hobbes and Pufendorf
referred to institutions and representatives as fictitious persons.132 Pufendorf, in
1672,133 described the state as ‘a composite moral person whose will, compounded
of the concord of many, is deemed the will of all’.134 Compared to these authors,
Wolff can be regarded as an innovator in this respect.
Several scholars have highlighted this contribution of Wolff’s to the autonomiza-
tion of jus gentium as the law between states as legal persons. While Emmanuelle
Jouannet approaches Wolff with the primary aim of understanding Vattelian
thought and classical international law, Nicholas Onuf points to a complex change
from a ‘republican’ law of nature and nations to a ‘liberal’ distinction between the

127 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), p. 5.

128  Percy Ellwood Corbett, Law and Society in the Relations of States (1951), p. 54; Emmanuelle
Jouannet, Emer de Vattel et l’émergence doctrinale du droit international classique, vol. 50, Publication de
la Revue Générale du Droit International Public (1998), pp. 394–​5.
129  Johannes Althusius, Politica methodice digesta (1614), ed. Carl Joachim Friedrich (1932) Chap.
ix, secs. 14–​19.
130  See Corbett, Law and Society in the Relations of States (n. 128), p. 54; Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima:
Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), p. 295.
131  Hugo Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pacis Libri Tres, in quibus Jus Naturae & Gentium, item Juris
Publici praecipua explicantur (1925) Bk. I, ch. iii, sec. 7.
132  Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (1651) (1929), ch. 16; Samuel Pufendorf, De jure naturae et gentium
libri octo (1688), Charles Henry Oldfather and William Abbott Oldfather, vol. 17, The Classics of
International Law, ed. James Brown Scott (1934) Bk. VII, ch. ii, sec. 13.
133 Ibid. 134 Corbett, Law and Society in the Relations of States (n. 128), p. 54.
 23

Christian Wolff 233

domestic and international legal spheres. According to Onuf ’s account, this change
took place still under the ‘aegis of republicanism’, but resulted in ‘liberalism and
the impersonal state’.135 As we have already seen, in Wolff’s civitas maxima, an
association of associations or, in Onuf ’s parlance, a ‘republica composita’,136 there
is no direct link between the civitas maxima and the individual. Scholars have also
pointed out that this ‘autonomization’ or, in that sense, ‘liberalization’ of interna-
tional law is not necessarily a story of progress. One can also regard it as a kind of
decay,137 and many of the scholars who take a critical stance towards Wolff obvi-
ously have one major point of criticism exactly here.138
Be that as it may, Wolff was farther away from Grotius than he admitted or was
even aware of. Contrary to his own self-​perception, Wolff was heavily influenced
by how Grotius’s writings had been received in the 115 years that had passed since
the publication of Grotius’s De Iure Belli Ac Pacis when Wolff started writing his
Jus Gentium.139 His writing ‘set the seal’ on an ongoing autonomization of inter-
national law,140 and yet he did not fully accomplish it. Apart from Wolff’s explicit
announcement, on the first page of the Preface, that jus gentium would be treated
‘separately as a law peculiar to nations’,141 the distinctness of the jus gentium as a
separate category of law and its particular significance is already signalled by the fact
that the work on jus gentium is published separately from the eight volumes on jus
naturae. However, in the Institutiones, Wolff deals with the treatise on jus gentium as
a ninth volume of his Jus naturae.142 Beyond a certain indecisiveness which we can
witness here, there is a certain ambiguity or even irony in the very fact that just a
polymath and systematizer of all knowledge like Wolff played an important role in
the autonomization of international law as a distinct area of law and ultimately as
an academic discipline. Therefore, it was left to Vattel to take a further step forward
in the autonomization of international law by cutting the methodological ties that
linked Wolff’s jus gentium voluntarium to the rest of his philosophy.

2. From natural law to positivism

A second, interrelated transition discernible in Wolff’s work is a movement from
natural law to positivism.143 This seems similarly paradoxical at first, given the scant
attention that Wolff dedicates to stipulative and customary international law. Also,

135  Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), p. 281.
136  Ibid., p. 296.
137  Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’ (n. 11), p. 100; Jouannet,
Emer de Vattel et l’émergence doctrinale du droit international classique (n. 128), 398.
138  See e.g. Kohler, ‘Die spanischen Naturrechtslehrer des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts’ (n. 26).
139  Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’ (n. 11), p. 81.
140 Ibid., p. 97.
141 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), p. 5.
142  See Jouannet, Emer de Vattel et l’émergence doctrinale du droit international classique (n. 128),
p. 396.
143  Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian Wolffs
Theorie der civitas maxima’ (n. 77), p. 564: a major contribution to the positivist turn in international
legal thought.
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234 Thomas Kleinlein

the subtitle of Wolff’s Jus gentium (‘in quo jus gentium naturale ab eo, quod volun-
tarii, pactitii et consuetudinarii est, accurate distinguitur’)144 emphasizes that it is
an exposition of natural law that is ‘accurately’ distinguished from voluntary law,
stipulative, and customary law as forms of positive law. As we have seen, the natural
law foundation of the treatise guarantees its scientific character.145
Indeed, it might be misleading to regard Wolff as an originator of consensual
positivism.146 The idea becomes clearer if we think of the Kelsenian variant of posi-
tivism. Kelsen, in his 1920 work on The Problem of Sovereignty, indeed embraced
Wolff’s concepts of the civitas maxima and jus gentium voluntarium. Both fit neatly
with Kelsen’s pure theory of law. As understood by Kelsen, Wolff’s stipulative and
customary international law derive their validity from volitional international law
(jus gentium voluntarium), which in turn is positive law in the sense that it is derived
from a presupposed hypothetical basic norm of international law. For Kelsen,
Wolff’s decisive move is that he restricts the contents of natural law to the idea of
a legal community based on the freedom and equality of states as moral persons
and the imperative to overcome the state of nature. Accordingly, the natural law
basis of international law—​as a juridical hypothesis—​has the limited function of
allowing for the positive making of international law between coordinate subjects.
Furthermore, the concept of a moral person allows an emphasis of the identity
of state and world state.147 Drake’s translation of civitas maxima with ‘supreme
state’,148 which has been much criticized,149 would not have been a problem for
Kelsen.150 The decisive point—​in which Wolff also distinguishes himself from
Pufendorf—​is that Wolff identifies the natural law basis for the binding force of
positive law. Unlike in Pufendorf ’s understanding, natural and positive law are not
mutually inimical, but the natural law provides for the very basis from which the
validity of positive law is derived.151 Beyond this, it can also be assumed that the
critical function of method in Wolff’s work was very appealing for the founder of a
pure theory of law.
Wolff’s theory still rested on the idea that there existed a universal law of
nature and reason in which all legal rules had their ultimate common basis,

144  English translation: ‘in which the natural law of nations is carefully distinguished from that
which is voluntary, stipulative, and customary’.
145 See Walter Jaeschke, ‘Vom Völkerrecht zum Völkerrecht. Ein Beitrag zum Verhältnis von
Philosophie und Rechtsgeschichte’, DZPhil 56(2) (2008), 277, 284.
146 Schiffer, The Legal Community of Mankind (n. 7), p. 79: ‘Wolff’s volitional law of nations had
not been really positive law because its general rules did not have their origin in human will but
were derived from the presumed consent of the members of the international community’. But see
Orakhelashvili, ‘The Origins of Consensual Positivism: Pufendorf, Wolff and Vattel’ (n. 86).
147  Hans Kelsen, Das Problem der Souveränität und die Theorie des Völkerrechts: Beitrag zu einer reinen
Rechtslehre (1920), pp. 241–​4, 249–​55.
148 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), p. 3, passim.
149  See Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), pp. 287–​92.
150 Kelsen, Das Problem der Souveränität und die Theorie des Völkerrechts (n. 147), p. 249.
151  Orakhelashvili, ‘The Origins of Consensual Positivism: Pufendorf, Wolff and Vattel’ (n. 86),
p. 100.
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Christian Wolff 235

a law of mankind uniting all members of the human race and constituting a
general standard of justice. Furthermore, as we have seen, Wolff does not pay
much attention to stipulative and customary law. Later positivists expressly
reject these natural-​law concepts and pay much closer attention to treaties and
international custom.152 Therefore, a transition from natural law to positivism
is discernible in Wolff’s writings, but at the same time its close connection to
Wolff’s system and method provides a barrier for the development of ‘classic’
international law.

3. From law to political economy

There is a further movement in Wolff’s writings hidden behind the natural law lan-
guage and his perception as a ‘great expositor […] of natural law’.153 Wolff contrib-
utes to a new understanding of the art of government informed by the emergence of
a political economy and based on three interrelated organizing ideas: mercantilism,
the police state, and the European balance. This is a development carved out by Matt
Craven, who refers to Foucault.154 From this point of view, Wolff’s discussion of the
‘Duties of the Nation to Itself ’ in Chapter I of his treatise on Jus gentium, otherwise
‘almost occult’,155 suddenly makes sense. Matters of statecraft thereby find their
place in the volume on jus gentium. For example, several paragraphs are devoted to
the power and wealth of nations. § 70 states that nations ought to strive for power;
§ 72, however, condemns the waging of an unjust war to increase power.156 It is not
without reason that Wolff’s textbooks became axiomatic in justifications of enlight-
ened despotism157 and that Frederick II was Wolff’s benefactor.158

152 Schiffer, The Legal Community of Mankind (n. 7) pp. 80–​1. For an early example of a more
practically oriented treatise that focuses more on the collection of the contents of international law
than on its foundation, see Johann Jakob Moser, Grundsätze des jetzt üblichen europäischen Völker-​Rechts
in Fridenszeiten, auch anderer unter denen Europäischen Souverainen und Nationen zu solcher Zeit fürk-
ommender willkührlicher Handlungen, zum Gebrauch seiner Staats-​und Cantzley-​Academie entworffen
(1750).
153  Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), p. 282.
154  Matthew Craven, ‘On Foucault and Wolff or from Law to Political Economy’, LJIL 25(3)
(2012), 627–​45, at 627, referring to Michel Foucault, Security, Territory, Population: Lectures at
the Collège de France, 1977-​78, Michel Senellart, François Ewald, and Alessandro Fontana (eds.)
(2007). For a broader analysis, see Martti Koskenniemi, ‘International Law and raison d’état:
Rethinking the Prehistory of International Law’, in Benedict Kingsbury and Benjamin Straumann
(eds.), The Roman Foundations of the Law of Nations. Alberico Gentili and the Justice of Empire
(2010), pp. 297–​339.
155 Jouannet, Emer de Vattel et l’émergence doctrinale du droit international classique (n. 128),
pp. 399–​400.
156  Onuf, ‘Civitas maxima: Wolff, Vattel and the Fate of Republicanism’ (n. 7), pp. 291–​2.
157 Hochstrasser, Natural Law Theories in the Early Enlightenment (n. 58), p. 36.
158  Nippold, ‘Introduction (1917)’ (n. 3), pp. xxi–​ii; Paul Sonnino, ‘Introduction’, in Paul Sonnino
(ed.), Frederick, The Refutation of Machiavelli’s Prince or Anti-​Machiavell (1981), pp. 1–​22.
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236 Thomas Kleinlein

As we have seen in the general discussion of his scientific system and method,
Wolff transferred practical ethics, economics, and politics to legal concepts.159
The duties of the nation to itself correspond to its obligations, aimed at self-​
preservation and self-​perfection. Apart from these obligations that nations have
toward themselves, there are also obligations that nations owe to other nations
and that are aimed at assisting the other nations’ preservation and perfection.
The corresponding right of the other nations is a so-​called imperfect right only.
Imperfect rights can be made perfect by treaty, otherwise a nation must assist
another nation only to the extent that this is possible without sacrificing its own
self-​perfection, and this evaluation is subject to the respective nation’s own evalu-
ation.160 The most prominent example of this kind of imperfect rights is probably
the right to commercial relations, which becomes only perfect through a com-
mercial treaty.161 On the one hand, this system of rights and obligations gives rise
to the claim, referred to above, that Wolff establishes a ‘Hobbesian instrument
of the “self ” ’;162 on the other hand, in the words of Arthur Nussbaum, these
‘gratuitous and nugatory’ imperfect rights, served Wolff ‘to represent the relations
among nations conveniently in legal terms—​to fill the world arbitrarily with
international “rights” ’.163
This focus on political economy, on the one hand, and the derivation of the jus
gentium voluntarium from the civitas maxima, on the other, creates an inherent ten-
sion between legitimation and critique of political absolutism.164 In line with the
goals of the Enlightenment, Wolff’s concept of philosophy has genuine potential
for political criticism. By introducing the concept of the civitas maxima, Wolff was
one of the first thinkers who addressed the cosmopolitan implications of contract
theory.165 Again and again, Wolff stressed this critical dimension of his thinking,
especially in his Deutsche Politik of 1721. He does not want to be a ‘storyteller’ who
only narrates what is customary,166 but rather he speaks as a ‘philosopher of that
which has to happen when reason is put into practice’.167 This claim, however, is
somehow compromised. Ultimately, even natural law can be subordinated to the
final purpose of the state, to public welfare, and security, in order to prevent greater

159  See text accompanying nn. 42–​4.

160 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12), §§ 156–​9.
161  Ibid., §§ 73–​4. 162 See n. 85.
163 Nussbaum, A Concise History of the Law of Nations (n. 5), p. 152.
164  See Lutterbeck, Staat und Gesellschaft bei Christian Thomasius und Christian Wolff (n. 33), p. 150.
165  Cheneval, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker –​Christian Wolffs
Theorie der civitas maxima’ (n. 77) p. 575; Francis Cheneval, ‘Die kosmopolitische Dimension des
“Consensus Praesumtus”: Von Christian Wolff zu John Rawls und darüber hinaus’, in Matthias
Lutz-​Bachmann (ed.), Kosmopolitanismus. Zur Geschichte und Zukunft eines umstrittenen Ideals
(2010), pp. 122–​45; cf. Wolfgang Kersting, Die politische Philosophie des Gesellschaftsvertrags (1994)
pp. 212–​16.
166 Wolff, Vernünftige Gedanken von dem gesellschaftlichen Leben der Menschen und insonderheit dem
gemeinen Wesen: ‘Deutsche Politik’ (n. 51), § 379.
167  Ibid., Vorrede, § 270. See Grunert, ‘Absolutism(s):  Necessary Ambivalences in the Political
Theory of Christian Wolff’ (n. 46), p. 143.
 237

Christian Wolff 237

damage. Natural law itself in many cases demands the violation of natural law if
this is to the benefit of the perfection of man, i.e. if it is advantageous for the entire
body politic.168
The sovereign can change something that is permitted by natural law through
positive law into a duty or a prohibition—​‘as the final purpose of the republic
demands’.169 He can also prevent a collision between different norms of natural
law by making an exception to the rule170 with the help of positive law. In this
case, he may even accept injustice in order to avert serious detriment. Although the
authorities are in principle not in a position to give orders that directly contradict
natural law, Wolff considers deviations from this rule, justified in ‘some cases’ if the
order that runs counter to natural law is advantageous to the entire body politic.
The subject is then no longer obliged to obey, but the duty of obedience comes into
force again if his refusal ‘attracts more calamity than if he obeyed’.171 Since man,
by natural law, is obliged to perfect himself and thus has to avoid anything that
could worsen his interior and exterior condition,172 the violation of a prescription
of natural law is in most cases demanded by natural law itself. Wolff also refers to a
hierarchy between the norms of natural law. This move allows him to reconcile the
conflict between positive law and natural law because a conflict between positive
law and a norm of natural law can almost always be eliminated by recourse to a
higher norm of natural law. In this way, a positive law that contradicts natural law
is justified by natural law itself. With the help of a ‘natural theory of civil or posi-
tive law’, which he sees as a part of a general theory of natural law, Wolff explicitly
wants to reconcile the conflicts between the two types of law in a ‘most beautiful
concord’.173
Taking into account this aspect, it becomes understandable how Wolff furnishes
monarchs with a concept of a Wohlfahrtsstaat (welfare state) and provided a cam-
eralist set of justifications for state intervention to promote, inter alia, economic
growth as well as military and diplomatic aggrandisement. The polymath offered
a comprehensive account of the legitimate outreach of the enlightened state that
could be detached from all the scholastic detail of Wolffian metaphysics.174 In mak-
ing practical use of Wolff’s writings and at the same time detaching the knowledge
based on his method from this very method, Frederick II could benefit from Wolff’s

168  See e.g. Wolff, Vernünftige Gedanken von dem gesellschaftlichen Leben der Menschen und insonder-
heit dem gemeinen Wesen: ‘Deutsche Politik’ (n. 51), § 434.
169 Wolff, Jus Gentium Methodo Scientifica Pertractatum (1764) (n. 12); Wolff, Grundsätze des
Natur-​ und Völckerrechts (n. 14), §1071.
170  See e.g. Wolff, Vernünfftige Gedancken von Gott, der Welt und der Seele des Menschen, auch allen
Dingen überhaupt (Deutsche Metaphysik) (n. 50) § 165.
171 Wolff, Vernünftige Gedanken von dem gesellschaftlichen Leben der Menschen und insonderheit dem
gemeinen Wesen: ‘Deutsche Politik’ (n. 51), § 434.
172 Wolff, Grundsätze des Natur-​und Völckerrechts (n. 14), § 36.
173 Ibid., Vorrede; Grunert, ‘Absolutism(s):  Necessary Ambivalences in the Political Theory of
Christian Wolff’ (n. 46), pp. 148–​9.
174 Hochstrasser, Natural Law Theories in the Early Enlightenment (n. 58), 36.
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238 Thomas Kleinlein

work in a manner resembling Vattel’s ‘translation’ into a more ‘classic’ international
law, at least structurally.

V. Conclusion

To conclude, we return to the riddle of why Wolff’s systematic method—​which

he considered to be his main contribution to the study of international law—​was
largely ignored while Wolff himself was treated as a scholarly authority. Arguably,
the key to this puzzle is not only the fact that Wolff’s philosophy of international
law builds on his general philosophy and ‘is written in the manner and even in the
formal method of geometrical works’, as Vattel writes in the introduction to his
Droit des Gens.175 Rather, method is not only a matter of style, but deeply entangled
with substance, and Wolff dealt with substantive questions in a rather ambiguous
way from the point of view of the subsequent reader trained in international law.
He was manoeuvring between international law as an autonomous discipline and
its integration into a system of science, between natural law and positivism, and
between law and political economy, thereby mirroring relevant developments of his
epoch. In this way, Wolff is a figure of transition. His responsiveness to these devel-
opments of his time, however, contrasts with Wolff’s own belief in the timelessness
of his system. Ernst Reibstein pointed out a long time ago that Wolff obviously
ignored the fact that the abstract ideas that he presented as based on axiomatic
reason were actually rooted in a long history of ideas. In that sense, he is indeed
the cause of the misunderstandings through which his system persisted,176 and his
system and method had to remain an episode in the history of international legal
thought. Nevertheless, his writings in all their ambiguity are a rich source for the
study of decisive shifts in international legal thought that took place in the middle
of the eighteenth century.

Selected Bibliography
Cheneval, Francis, ‘Der präsumtiv vernünftige Konsens der Menschen und Völker—
Christian Wolffs Theorie der civitas maxima’, ARSP 85(4) (1999), 563–​80.
Craven, Matthew, ‘On Foucault and Wolff or from Law to Political Economy’, LJIL 25(3)
(2012), 627–​45.
Grunert, Frank, ‘Absolutism(s): Necessary Ambivalences in the Political Theory of Christian
Wolff’, Tijds Rgeschied 73(1) (2005), 141–​52.

175 Vattel, The Law of Nations, Or, Principles of the Law of Nature, of Nations and Sovereigns, with
Three Early Essays on the Origin and Nature of Natural Law and on Luxury (n. 29), p. 12.
176  Reibstein, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’ (n. 11), p. 101.
 239

Christian Wolff 239
Haakonssen, Knud, ‘Christian Wolff (1679-​ 1754)’, in Bardo Fassbender and Anne
Peters (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2012), pp. 1106–​09.
Olive, Louis, ‘Wolff’, in Antoine Pillet and Denis Alland (eds.), Les fondateurs du droit inter-
national (Paris: Édn Panthéon-​Assas, 2014), pp. 447–​79.
Orakhelashvili, Alexander, ‘The Origins of Consensual Positivism: Pufendorf, Wolff and
Vattel’, in Alexander Orakhelashvili (ed.), Research Handbook on the Theory and History of
International Law (Cheltenham, UK; Northampton, Mass., USA: Edward Elgar, 2011),
pp. 93–​110.
Peterson, Claes, ‘What Has Logic Got to Do with It? On the Use of Logic in Christian
Wolff’s Theory of Natural Law’, Sc.St.L. 48 (2005), 310–​20.
Reibstein, Ernst, ‘Deutsche Grotius-​Kommentatoren bis zu Christian Wolff’, ZaöRV 15
(1953–​1954), 76–​102.
240

12
The Law of the Nations as the Civil Law
of the World
On Montesquieu’s Political Cosmopolitanism

Christian Volk

Today, Montesquieu’s fame seems to be due mainly to his appraisal of the English
constitution and his thoughts on the separation of powers. Such a focus might be
related to the large shadow cast by the French Revolution.1 However, although
his thoughts on this matter are definitely significant,2 the almost exclusive con-
centration of the reception on these aspects of his oeuvre has left other important
things in the shade. One aspect that has received very little attention yet—​both in
Montesquieu scholarship and in the philosophy of international law—​and which
forms the subject of analysis here, is the classification of Montesquieu’s thoughts
on the law of nations. I will point out that Charles-​Louis de Secondat, Baron de La
Brède et de Montesquieu (1689–​1755)3 argues in favour of a specific kind of politi-
cal cosmopolitanism. I will come to this conclusion on the basis of an interpretation
of his conception of the law of nations ‘as the civil law of the whole globe, in which
sense every nation is a citizen’.4 Elsewhere he also speaks of the ‘civil law … of the
whole world’.5

1  See Ernst Forsthoff, ´Zur Einführung`, in Vom Geist der Gesetze (Charles de Montesquieu), ed.
Ernst Forsthoff (1992), p. V.
2  See inter alia Sharon R. Krause, ‘The Spirit of Separate Powers in Montesquieu’, The Review of
Politics 62(2) (2000), 231–​65. However, a critical account of Montesquieu’s interpretation of the
English constitutional tradition is given by Claus, ‘Montesquieu’s Mistakes and the True Meaning of
Separation’.
3  For a general overview of the life and work of Montesquieu see inter alia Robert Shackleton,
Montesquieu: A Critical Biography (1961); Georges Benrekassa, Montesquieu (1968); Melvin Richter,
The Political Theory of Montesquieu (1977).
4  Charles de Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, eds. Anne M.Cohler, Basia Carolyn Miller, and
Harold Samuel Stone (1989), Book 26, Ch. 1.
5  Charles de Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, ed. Pierre Grimal (1961), no. 94. The English transla-
tion of the Lettres Persanes, published by Oxford University Press, deviates significantly in places from
the French original in terms of the numbering of the letters and the content. For this reason I have
reverted to the French edition, translated directly from the original French text and stated the number
of the respective letter.

The Law of the Nations as the Civil Law of the World: On Montesquieu’s political cosmopolitanism.
Christian Volk. © Christian Volk, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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Montesquieu 241

This kind of Montesquieuian political cosmopolitanism makes clear reference

to the republican Roman thinking of Cicero6 or the ‘modern’ thoughts of Grotius
on the law of nations; he also develops this perspective relatively systematically
and identifies it by means of a critique of the Hobbesian tradition.7 Nevertheless,
Montesquieu was not an expert on the law of nations, but did also think about and
addresses questions of international law. Therefore, when reading Montesquieu,
one might get the impression that his comments on the law of nations arise less
from scientific aspirations, but instead were motivated to a much greater degree
by two specific historical incidents. (This impression is reinforced by the fact that,
methodologically, Montesquieu’s thoughts on the law of nations run contrary
to his actual approach (see Section I). These two historical incidents are, firstly,
Montesquieu’s shock and moral indignation about Spanish colonial behaviour in
South America. His shock is expressed repeatedly in all of his works and in The
Spirit of the Laws he calls these crimes ‘one of the most dangerous wounds that the
human species ever received’.8 Secondly, and closely connected, is Montesquieu’s
rejection of slavery.9
The key problem identified by Montesquieu with a view to the law of nations
is that the concepts of the public lawyers of his age did not draw the correct con-
clusions either from the tragedy of Spanish colonialism or from slavery. Instead,
these concepts imagine a law of nations that continues to legally justify both
phenomena—​colonialism and slavery. His political cosmopolitanism is directed
against that. Essentially, therefore, it can be said that Montesquieu conceives of a
law of nations that attempts to avert both the exploitation of other communities
and also slavery. At the same time, however, he is not concerned with equating the
law of nations with global ethics, or with establishing morally substantial yet politi-
cally ineffective obligatory requirements. One consequence of this is that the idea of
human rights virtually does not appear in his considerations. For Montesquieu, the
protection of individual rights is a matter for the constitutional, civil, and criminal
law of individual states and discussed in this context. To put it another way: in
his thoughts on the law of nations, too, Montesquieu tries to remain a political
thinker who assumes the reality of individual state interests, but who wishes to inte-
grate these in an international legal order that represents more than the consensus
between states.
The entire complexity of his international legal and political thoughts arises from
this. For Montesquieu’s thoughts on the law of nations are thus not only recon-
structive, but also normatively constructivist and prospective in character, with a
view to justifying universal legal norms. At first glance, therefore, Montesquieu
breaks away to a certain extent from the specific political methodology he devel-
ops in The Spirit of the Laws, which always refers the laws of a country back to the

6  But cf. Paul A. Rahe, Montesquieu and the Logic of Liberty (2009), pp. 219–​21.
7  For a thorough account of Montesquieu’s critique of Hobbes see Michael Zuckert, ‘Natural Law,
Natural Rights, and Classical Liberalism’, Social Philosophy and Policy 18(1) (2001), 227–​51.
8  Charles de Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 4, Ch. 6 (n. 3).
9  On this point see my comments in Section III.2.a.
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242 Christian Volk
general spirit (esprit général) among the people, which itself in turn results from
such different aspects as geography, climate, the quality of the soil, history and the
way of life, religion, trade, customs, and state constitution, and which differs from
country to country.10 Similar to the program of global ethics, which is able to for-
mulate abstract moral obligations, Montesquieu is also concerned with justifying
political relationships of responsibility. At the same time, however, he formulates
these with a view to the fact that every kind of abstract law that aims to develop
an effectiveness must not only be well justified, but must also refer closely to the
real-​world living conditions of the actors. In other words: to the general spirit of a
community. That is also true of the law of nations. Against this background there
are two key civilizing and cultivating mechanisms to be found in Montesquieu’s
work: conquest and trade.11
The question of conquest marks a systematic component of Montesquieu’s
thoughts on the law of nations and shall be discussed in detail in all of its ambiva-
lence (see Section III.2).12 Although Montesquieu believes that the conquering
state always assumes a large amount of political guilt, which must be redeemed,
at the same time Montesquieu sympathizes in a certain sense with the view that a
benevolent conqueror can set in motion a process of civilization and—​at least to an
extent—​cultural homogenization, on whose basis the claims to universal validity
of international legal norms can be realized. Just as ambivalent as Montesquieu’s
discussion of the question of conquest is his discussion of trade. For Montesquieu,
the ‘natural effect of trade’ is ‘peace’. In his view, the reason for this is that those
peoples who conduct trade with each other ‘become reciprocally dependent’: ‘one
has an interest in buying, the other has an interest in selling; and thus their union
is founded on their mutual necessities’.13 In this regard, Rosow speaks of a ‘cosmo-
politan vision of mutuality’.14 On the other hand, however, Montesquieu warns
against the commodification of life. In countries, he writes, which are inspired
exclusively by the spirit of trade, trade is also conducted with all human actions
and all moral virtues. The consequence is that even ‘the most trifling things, those
which humanity would demand, are there done, or there given, only for money.’15

10  For elaborations on Montesquieu’s method see inter alia Melvin Richter, ‘Montesquieu’s Theory
and Practice of the Comparative Method’, History of Human Sciences 15(2) (2002), 21–​33; Karsten
Fischer, ‘Demokratie und Differenzierung bei Montesquieu’, Zeitschrift für Politik 56(1) (2009), 19–​
34, at 20–​2; Paul A. Rahe, ‘Forms of Government: Structure, Principle, Object, and Aim’, in David
W. Carrithers, Michael A. Mosher, and Paul A. Rahe (eds.), Montesquieu’s Science of Politics: Essays on
the Spirit of Laws (2001), p. 69.
11  See also Katya Long, ‘Civilizing International Politics: Republicanism and the World Outside’,
Millennium Journal of International Studies 38(3) (2010), 773–​96, at 789.
12  See also Michael Mosher, ‘Montesquieu on Conquest: Three Cartesian Heroes and Five Good
Enough Empires’, Revue Montesquieu 8 (2006), 81–​110.
13 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 20, Ch. 2 (n. 3).
14  Stephen J. Rosow, ‘Commerce, Power and Justice’, The Review of Politics 46(3) (1984), 346–​66,
at 346. See also Bernard Manin, ‘Montesquieu, la république et le commerce’, European Journal of
Sociology 42(3) (2001), 573–​602.
15 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 20, Ch. 2 (n. 3). Howse identified very clearly the peace-​
bringing effect of trade according to Montesquieu. However, I do not share Howse’s view that the
‘stateless merchants’ anticipate for Montesquieu an order that is ‘of a transnational, transpolitical kind’
(Howse, ‘Montesquieu on Commerce, Conquest, War, and Peace’, Brooklyn Journal of International
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Montesquieu 243

In order to work out Montesquieu’s view of the law of nations, I shall proceed in
four large steps: first I shall present Montesquieu’s specific methodology in dealing
with political and legal questions. In doing so, I shall demonstrate that his meth-
odology on the one hand appears to be incompatible with his concerns relating to
the law of nations—​thus throwing light on the status of his thoughts on the law of
nations. At the same time, however, his methodological approach gives a specific
direction to his considerations on international law. In a second step, Montesquieu’s
concept of law as relationship (rapport) is addressed and applied to the question of
the nature of the law of nations. In a third step, the systematics of Montesquieu’s
considerations on the law of nations are developed. The confederate republic as the
political-​institutional form of Montesquieu’s political cosmopolitanism is outlined
in a fourth and last step.

I.  Montesquieu’s Methodology and the Status

of his Thoughts on the Law of Nations

In contrast to John Locke or Immanuel Kant, Montesquieu is not interested in

the question of the morally–​normatively justified legitimacy of order—​in other
words the question by what right political power is executed. His reading of trav-
elogues appears to have made him ‘staunchly empirical’16 and immune to a moral–​
philosophical claim to universality, whether based on reason or natural law. What
drives Montesquieu—​and places him in the direct vicinity of Machiavelli in his
Discorsi—​is the political–​normative question as to what holds a political commu-
nity together or, more generally: what creates a political cohesion of order; what
gives it ‘duration and prosperity’,17 and what leads to its collapse. Montesquieu
developed a specific methodology, which at its core is anti-​universalistic, precisely

Law 31(3) (2006), 694–​708, at 708) which could replace an order created by and on the basis of states.
Such a contention is undermined by the fact that, firstly, for Montesquieu there is practically no trade
that is separate from the basic structure of the state (nature of the form of government). It is precisely
Montesquieu’s aim to work out the relationships between trade and the respective basic structure.
Paradigmatically, he begins Book 20, Ch. 4 with the sentence: ‘Trade has some relation to forms of
government.’ Secondly, Montesquieu still assumes that there is no trade that is separate from the state
and its interests. All ‘the grand enterprises of merchants are always necessarily connected with the affairs
of the public’ (Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 20, Ch. 4 (n. 3)). Elsewhere he writes: the goal
of ‘commerce is the exportation and importation of merchandises, with a view to the advantage of the
state: Customs are a certain right over this same exportation and importation, founded also on the
advantage of the state’ (Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 20, Ch. 13 (n. 3)).
16 Lorenzo Zucca, ‘Montesquieu, Methodological Pluralism and Comparative Constitutional
Law’, European Constitutional Law Review 5(3) (2009), 481–​500, at 481.
17 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 2, Ch. 2 (n. 3). For Machiavelli see Niccolo Machiavelli,
Discourses on Livy (2009), Book I, Ch 2.  For Montesquieu’s Machivellianism see Paul A. Rahe,
‘Montesquieus anti-​Machiavellian Machiavellianism’, History of European Ideas 37(2) (2011), 128–​36,
at 128. Machiavelli and Montesquieu are genuine political thinkers. For both of them, the field of
politics is an area with its own intrinsic reference to meaning and not merely a special case of moral
or immoral behaviour. (On this point see also Forsthoff, ‘Zur Einführung’, in Vom Geist der Gesetze
(Charles de Montesquieu), p. XXI (n. 1).)
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244 Christian Volk
in order to answer this political–​normative question. The problem now is that
his thoughts on the law of nations, as I shall show below, break with this anti-​
universalism, and set out precisely with the aim of justifying universal norms.

1. Montesquieu’s political methodology

Montesquieu’s specific methodology for discussing political matters consolidates in
the analytical interplay between the nature and principle of government. The nature
of government means the essence of a political order; this is manifested in the basic
structure specific to it. According to Montesquieu there are three types of such basic
structures:  republic, monarchy, and despotism.18 However, the form of govern-
ment not only means the form of state organization, but instead the term represents
the fundamental constitution of a community. In brief: it stands for a whole way
of life of political and social coexistence, which is shaped decisively by the nature
of government.19
The principle of government refers to the principle that allows the government
in particular and the citizens in general to act in accordance with the nature of
government. It therefore concerns the—​in each case specific—​human passion
(love, honour, or fear) that drives the actions of people and institutions in each
form of government, or through which each form of government is preserved.20
Thus the difference between nature and principle indicates in the first instance
that, according to Montesquieu, every form of government or constitution is
allocated to a specific manner of action (principle). This manner of action is
specific because it corresponds with the nature of government upon which it
depends.
To explain briefly the specific character of this doctrine of constitutional
form, it should be noted that Montesquieu, in his work, differentiates somewhat

18  The relevant section reads: ‘That a republican government is that in which the body or only a part
of the people is possessed of the supreme power: monarchy, that in which a single person governs by
fixed and established laws: a despotic government, that in which a single person directs every thing by
his own will and caprice.’ Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 2, Ch. 1 (n. 3).
19  Therefore, Sebastian Huhnholz is right to argue that Montesquieu’s political constitutional ideas
are closer to the republican pole than to the liberal pole in so far as they do not identify the social
constitution of a society with the (constitutional or state) legal disposition of their political ruling bod-
ies. (Sebastian Huhnholz, ‘Von republikanischer Mächtebalance zu liberaler Verfassungstrinität? Zur
Dementierung des Montesquieuschen Mischverfassungserbes durch die Gewaltentrennungsdokrtin’, in
Thorsten Thiel and Christian Volk (eds.), ‘Die Aktualität republikanischer Theorie’ (2016), pp. 45–72,
at p. 46). In this sense see also Karsten Malowitz and Veith Selk, ‘Republikanischer Konstitutionalismus.
Die Bewältigung der Furcht als Schlüssel zur Freiheit in Montesquieus Verfassungslehre’, Zeitschrift
für Politische Theorie 5(1) (2014), 31–​50. A different perspective on Montesquieu’s sorting is taken
by Carrese who speaks of Montesquieu’s ‘moderate liberalism’ (Paul O. Carrese, The Cloaking of
Power (2003), p. 1). Such a perspective is supported by Annelien de Dijn, ‘On Political Liberty.
Montesquieu’s Missing Manuscript’, Political Theory 39(2) (2011), 181–​204; Annelien de Dijn, French
Political Thought from Montesquieu to Tocqueville: Liberty in a Levelled Society? (2008); Robin Douglas,
‘Montesquieu and Modern Republicanism’, Political Studies 60(3) (2012), 703–​19.
20  The driving force of the republic is political virtue; that of the monarchy is honour and that of
despotism is fear. Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 2, Chs. 3–​9 (n. 3).
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Montesquieu 245

casually between a form of government in which the people as a whole (democ-

racy) act as holders of supreme power and a form of government in which only a
section of the people (aristocracy) do so. Both democracy and aristocracy are cat-
egorized under the basic structure of the republic. What makes aristocracy and
democracy republican forms of government is their common principle: political
virtue. If the basic structure of a political community provides that the people
as a whole or a section of the people rules, then the community must be con-
stituted in such a very specific manner that the principle—​in the case of the
republic: political virtue21—​is manifested in the form of a common spirit (esprit
général) among the whole people (democracy) or only part of the people (aristoc-
racy) and combines the citizens, the political institutions, society, and the legal
order into units.22
Consequently, the classification of Montesquieu’s types of constitution is moti-
vated by his discovery of the principles. These principles allow him to differentiate
political communities not according to constitutional structures, organizational
forms, or other institutional criteria, but instead according to the mindset that
determines the actions of the citizens, the organization of the legal order, the work
of the institutions and that of the governing apparatus.23 In his preface to The
Spirit of the Laws he makes it clear that his central analytical starting point lies
here.24
From his empirical observations Montesquieu assumes that different actions,
passions, and motives of the actors involved in social and political processes are
predominant under different constitutions. Indeed, even more:  the functioning
of the—​republican, monarchist, or despotic—​community as a whole depends on
the validity and social effectiveness of the respective principle. Therefore, the state
and civil laws in a country must be compatible not only with the basic structure,
the so-​called nature of government, but also and especially with the principle of
government. Otherwise, decline threatens.25

21  However, by making a strict distinction between political virtue on the one hand and moral and
Christian virtue on the other, Montesquieu caps the link between virtue and morality that was typical
of the Aristotelian tradition and of the entire Christian Middle Ages. Montesquieu’s concept of politi-
cal virtue stands for the mindset of the political agents in a republic; political virtue, seen as a mind-
set, gains its value from its suitability for political-​republican practice (see also Larrère, ‘Montesquieu
and the Modern Republic’, in Jonathan Mallinson, David W. Carrithers, and Patrick Coleman (eds.),
Montesquieu and the Spirit of Modernity (2003), pp. 235–​49, at p. 236; Judith N. Shklar, ‘Montesquieu
and the new republicanism’, in Gisela Bock, Quentin Skinner, and Maurizio Viroli (eds.), Machiavelli
and Republicanism (1990), pp. 265–​80, at p. 266.
22  Michael Hereth, Montesquieu: Eine Einführung (2005), p. 61.
23 Hereth, Montesquieu. Eine Einführung, p. 61 (n. 21).
24  See Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Preface (n. 3).
25 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 8, Ch. 1 (n. 3). An exemplary extract reads: ‘When once
the principles of government are corrupted, the very best laws become bad, and turn against the state:
but, when the principles are sound, even bad laws have the same effect as good; the force of the prin-
ciple draws everything to it.’ Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 8, Ch. 11 (n. 3). For a thorough
elaboration on Montesquieu’s motif of ‘decline’ see Sharon R. Krause, ‘The Uncertain Inevitability of
Decline in Montesquieu’, Political Theory 30(5) (2002), 702–​27.
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246 Christian Volk

2. Methodological anti-​universalism vs. universal norms

of the law of nations
A key consequence of this methodical approach is that Montesquieu cannot argue
in universal terms which political decisions are right or wrong, good, or bad. The
normative standard changes with the basic structure: he begins his comments on
the nature of government with the democratic republic. This, says Montesquieu,
demands much more from the people than monarchy or despotism. In a monarchy,
laws regulate life; in despotism, it is violence. The republic, in contrast, depends sig-
nificantly on the aforementioned political virtue. Thus that which can be beneficial
to durability and prosperity in a monarchy can, in a republic, represent a sure sign
of decay. In this very sense, Montesquieu writes:
Clear it is, also, that a monarch, who, through bad advice or indolence, ceases to enforce
the execution of the laws, may easily repair the evil; he has only to follow other advice, or
to shake off this indolence. But when, in a popular government, there is a suspension of the
laws, (as this can proceed only from the corruption of the republic,) the state is certainly
undone.26
One of many other examples for the fact that the normative standard differs from
basic structure to basic structure is presented by Montesquieu’s discussion of inher-
itance law. Whereas, in a monarchy, the father may be permitted to pass his inherit-
ance on to one of his children, such a law in a democracy could prove to be very
dangerous. Excessive wealth not only destroys the ‘spirit of … frugality’27 and
contradicts the principle of relative material equality, but it also leads one to suc-
cumb to luxury and abandon work. (And Montesquieu also restricts these thoughts
to so-​called trading republics.)
In The Spirit of the Laws Montesquieu differs between the natural laws, the laws
of religion, the moral laws formulated by the philosophers, the state and civil laws,
and the laws that regulate the relationships between the peoples. Without any
doubt, it is the state and civil laws that interest him most in The Spirit of the Laws.
However—​and this is key—​they interest him with a view to their suitability for a
specific historical society and not with regard to their moral or universal–​reasonable
content. It is true that reason plays an important role for Montesquieu’s venture.
After all, the specific laws of a society must be identified and the relationships that
exist there between people at a specific historic point in time must be understood,
arising from such different aspects as geography, climate, quality of the soil, his-
tory and the way of life, religion, trade, customs, and state constitution—​with the
objective of drafting such state laws that suit this specific community.28 But due to
the differences between the countries and communities with regard to the afore-
mentioned criteria, it would be, according to Montesquieu, ‘a great chance if those
of one nation suit another’.29 The ‘spirit of the laws’ that emerges from all of the

26 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 3, Ch. 3 (n. 3).

27 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 5, Ch. 6 (n. 3).
28 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 5, Ch. 1 (n. 3).
29 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
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Montesquieu 247

relationships mentioned, and which Montesquieu wishes to examine, differs from

country to country. ‘An Englishman, a Frenchman, an Italian: three esprits.’30 Only
by observing all of the named areas (climate, morals, trade, form of government,
etc.) collectively is it possible to state which laws are suitable and which are not.31
In his thoughts on the law of nations, Montesquieu now breaks with this meth-
odology, including its anti-​universalistic implications, and adopts nothing less than
a universal perspective. Driven by the shock mentioned at the outset about the
cruelty of Spanish colonialism, and motivated by the battle against slavery, he is
essentially concerned with, first, (re-​)constructing a law of nations that is based on
the ‘true Principles’32 and secondly to think about how to address the problem that
each nation obviously has its own national law and that ‘our law of nations’ has no
validity there.33 There is a passage that illustrates this twofold problem clearly:
All countries have a law of nations, not excepting the Iroquois themselves, though they
devour their prisoners; for they send and receive ambassadors, and understand the rights of
war and peace. The mischief is, that their law of nations is not founded on true principles.34
It will require great effort to spell out, from Montesquieu’s comments on the law of
nations, these ‘true principles’ and to clarify the epistemological standpoint behind
these principles.35 At the same time, however, Montesquieu is aware that the law
of nations is a law that must be considered both from the position of the logic and
structure of interstate interaction and from the perspective of the states and the
peoples themselves. Precisely this is what he means with his remark that all coun-
tries have a law of nations: the existence and the validity of norms of the law of
nations always refer directly to the general spirit and the form of government of a
community as well. As a result, a republic can agree to norms of the law of nations
that would not be acceptable to a monarchy, and certainly not to a despotic state.
In the event of a conquest, for example, according to Montesquieu, a democratic
state must democratize the state and the conquered people. If it does not do so and
instead merely sends civil servants there to administer the state, it not only fails to
fulfil its political responsibility, but also jeopardizes its own order.36 A monarchy,
in contrast, should rather leave things as they are in the event of a conquest.37 In
Montesquieu’s view, things look very bleak in despotic states. Here, the law of a
nation generally has little influence, since the despot is not accustomed to resist-
ance and contradiction. The fear is therefore that war can be conducted ‘in its full
natural fury’.38

30  Charles de Montesquieu, My Thoughts, ed. and trans. Henry C. Clark (202), no. 376.
31  See also Sharon R. Krause ‘Laws, Passion and the attractions of right action in Montesquieu’,
Philosophy Social Criticism 32(2) (2006), 211–​30, at 220.
32 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
33 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 4 (n. 3).
34 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
35  On this point see my comment in Section II.
36 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 6 (n. 3). For a more detailed explanation see
Section II.
37 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 9 (n. 3).
38 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 5, Ch. 14 (n. 3).
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248 Christian Volk
Thus although Montesquieu’s thoughts on the law of nations contradict his
methodology, due to their universal focus and their normative–​constructivist char-
acter, he becomes sensitized to the question of the conditions of validity of the
norms of the law of nations due to this very methodology. At the same time, how-
ever, it is this nexus between the law and the general spirit, between norms, culture,
and forms of government, which motivates him to seek for civilizing and cultivat-
ing mechanisms (trade and conquest).

II.  What Is Law? Montesquieu’s Basic Legal–​Philosophical

Assumptions about the Essence of Law and its Consequences
for the Law of Nations

One of the central debates related to the law of nations that was conducted on
the threshold from the seventeenth to the eighteenth century was ‘whether or not
there was, alongside the ius naturae, also an independent ius gentium positivum.’39
Following Hobbes, large parts of the scientific community disputed the existence
of an independent jus gentium positivum. The relationship between the states, such
was the widespread assumption, was regulated solely by means of the jus naturae.
Yet law enters the world by being imposed by a responsible and higher authority.
However, since there is no such authority for dealings between sovereign states, the
states live in a state of nature in which, per definition, there is no law in the strictest
sense of the word. Therefore not even custom can be considered as law as long as it
does not have the consent of the sovereign.
In contrast to this, Montesquieu, who has long been neglected in the philoso-
phy of international law, approaches the discussion on law in general and the law
of nations in particular in a very different manner. He neither shares the premise
of the state of nature—​irrespective of whether this is applied to the domestic or to
global level—​neither does he see the essence of the law in the command. One could
say that Montesquieu ‘de-​sovereignizes’ the discourse on law and the discourse on
power.40 This shows to what extent the question of whether the jus gentium positi-
vum exists arises from a ‘sovereign-​centred political theorizing’41 in the first place.
In other words: the question itself is the consequence of a very specific epistemology.
Montesquieu does not agree with this epistemology. To certain extent, he has
to be considered as a materialistic thinker who always discusses the ideas, wishes,
and hopes of the people with recourse to their political–​social living conditions.

39  Heinhard Steiger, ‘Völkerrecht’, in Otto Brunner, Werner Conze, and Reinhardt Koselleck (eds.),
Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe (2004), p. 116.
40 Hereth, Montesquieu: Eine Einführung, p. 45 (n. 21). One consequence of his methodology is
that the duration and prosperity of a community precisely does not depend on the assertiveness of a
central sovereign instance, the sovereign. The power of a community feeds upon the successful inter-
play between the nature of government, the principle of government, the general spirit (formed by
climate, geography, religion, customs, etc.), and the laws passed.
41  Jonathan Havercroft, Captives of Sovereignty (2011), p. 5.
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Montesquieu 249

Althusser e.g. speaks of Montesquieu’s ‘mechanistic materialism’.42 Like Marx (and

also Hegel), society in general and the political community in particular is therefore
also not an artificial work of the people that, moreover, has come into being by
social contract. For Montesquieu, the people have always been people in society,
and these societies, peoples, nations, or states have always stood in relationship to
each other.43
It is true that Montesquieu formulates thoughts on a human state of nature and
on natural laws. However, on the one hand, all of his comments on such a state are
made in the subjunctive and demonstrate by these means the distance maintained
by Montesquieu to the theoretical conception of a natural state as the starting point
of all contractual–​theoretical considerations. For Montesquieu, there are also no
rights that could be separated from these natural laws—​in Montesquieu this refers
to peace, the impulse to search for food, sexual lust between the sexes, and the
urge to live in society—​in order to then transfer them to a higher authority in the
course of a contract.44 On the other hand, these considerations on the natural laws
serve to underpin the fact of the natural relationship-​forming nature of human
life: peace, for example, is not something that is dictated by reason, God, or nature,
but instead a general human yearning which, according to Montesquieu, is likely to
result from a feeling of weakness, fear, and inferiority. What Montesquieu makes
clear right at the beginning of the first book of The Spirit of the Laws is that laws are
best conceived as relationships (rapport): ‘Laws in the broadest sense of the word are
relationships that emerge necessarily from the nature of things.’45
With his understanding of laws, he distances himself both from the Greek tradi-
tion of nomos, which conceives of laws as a fence or enclosure, and from Hobbes,
who defines law as command.46 Though Montesquieu talks about a ‘Creator and
Preserver’ of the universe and writes of the ‘state of nature’ and the laws of nature,
these laws describe, in his view, merely the references between the creator and crea-
tion or between humans in their natural state.47 Following Hannah Arendt’s read-
ing of Montesquieu on this point, what the laws reveal are the ‘rules or règles which
determine the government of the world and without which a world would not exist
at all’.48
These explications on Montesquieu’s understanding of law as relation are of key
significance in order to properly classify his thoughts on the legal character of the
law of nations. One essential reason for this is that, according to Montesquieu, the
question of the origin of these international relationships is just as ‘ridiculous’ as

42  Louis Althusser, Politics and History: Montesquieu, Rousseau, Marx (2007), p. 44.

43 Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 94 (n. 4).
44 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 2 (n. 3). Georges Benrekassa, Montesquieu: La
liberté et l’histoire (1987), p.  101. See also Hereth, Montesquieu:  Eine Einführung, p.  49 (n. 21).
But cf. Michael Zuckert, ‘Natural Rights and Modern Constitutionalism’, Northwestern Journal of
International Human Rights 2(1) (2004).
45 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 1 (n. 3).
46  Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. J.C.A. Gaskin (2009), Ch. 26.
47 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 2 (n. 3).
48  Hannah Arendt, On Revolution (1963), p. 189.
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250 Christian Volk
that of the origin of societies. Just as all people are already ‘born connected to one
another’49, one can assume that relationships have also always existed between the
different peoples, nations, or states that constitutes that which Montesquieu calls
the ‘world’.50 Of course, Montesquieu is concerned with defining the status and the
legal and political quality of these interstate relationships—​also from a normative
perspective. But he rejects the assumption that states, nations, or peoples live or
have ever lived in a state of nature, i.e. in an anarchic condition without relation-
ships and thus without laws.51 In parody of Hobbes, he argues that precisely the
possibility of a state of war between peoples leads to the creation of public law.52
Considered as inhabitants of so great a planet, which necessarily contains a variety of nations,
they have laws relative to their mutual intercourse, which is what we call the law of nations
(emphasis added).53
All things in this world—​humans, states, people—​stand in relationship to one
another. Accordingly, ‘the world’ is not created in a political or legal sense only by
means of the foreign policy activities of the state. Montesquieu’s epistemological
anti-​Descartianism is transferred to his political thinking. One could say, that we
have with Montesquieu a threefold break with sovereignty: (1) from an epistemo-
logical perspective, the relationship forming nature of the world replaces Descartes’
cogito ergo sum; (2) society gets its stability and permanence not from the omnipo-
tence of the sovereign, but rather from the fact that the laws passed are related to
the principle of government and the general spirit of the society; (3) in a political
and legal sense, the world already exists before the will of a state to design its foreign
policy relationships and is based on the fact that different peoples inhabit the Earth
and demonstrate reciprocal bonds to one another.
Speaking in theoretical conceptual terms, it is important to be aware of the fact
that the starting point of Montesquieu’s thoughts is the aforementioned relation-
ship forming nature of the world and the things in the world. Therefore, in a very
similar manner to the Roman tradition of the jus gentium, the people do not make
the laws, but instead they ‘have’ laws that regulate their relationships with each
other, as it reads in the quotation above. These laws include in equal measure con-
tracts, customs, principles, and a legal conviction, which results from discussion
between the leading thinkers of a particular age.
While the law of nations is in use among the individual nations, and regulates the
relationship between peoples, the validity of this law is, according to Montesquieu,

49 Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 94 (n. 4).

50 Montesquieu, My Thoughts, no. 1814 (n. 29).
51  Therefore, Katya Long is mistaken when she argues that Montesquieu invented the ‘idea of a
federation as a solution to the anarchy of international politics’ (Long, Civilizing International Politics,
p. 774 (n. 10)). The point in Montesquieu’s international political, and legal thought is that there is
no anarchy in international politics. He starts, in epistemological terms, from the assumption of the
relationship forming nature of the world.
52 Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 95 (n. 4). See Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch.
2 (n. 3). The possibility of a state of war, which can arise both between peoples and within a society,
emerges when people live in a society and lose the feeling of weakness.
53 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
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Montesquieu 251

independent of whether or not it is confirmed by the sovereign legislating power of

the individual states. Or to put it less strongly: according to Montesquieu, interstate
contracts are only one source of the law of nations. In Montesquieu’s view, with
regard to the use of the law of nations, individual states can assume incorrect legal
principles—​with the consequence that their actions become illegitimate from the
perspective of a law of nations. In the Persian Letters, for example, Montesquieu
writes that an alliance between two states must be ‘just …’ in order to truly obligate
both states. An alliance formed between two nations for the purpose of suppressing
a third nation ‘… is not legitimate, and can be violated without crime.’54
The validity of such a law of nations cannot be custom, contract, or sovereign
command alone; for Montesquieu, the law of nations is always also subject to a
political reason which, in its reasoning, is oriented towards the conditions of the
possibility that a world of peoples is preserved. In the Persian Letters he even speaks
of the law of nations as the ‘law of reason’.55 Montesquieu formulates the directive
of such an understanding of the law of nations in Mes pensées:
If I knew something useful to my Country and harmful to Europe, or else useful to Europe
and harmful to the mankind [genre humain], I would regard it as a crime.56
Certainly, a law of nations understood in this manner must continue to regulate
the relationships between states as well, but in contrast to a state-​centred view of
the law of nations, it is conceived from two sides: first from the perspective of an
order of the world that is a reality due to the relationships between the peoples.
In other words, an international world order represented by the term mankind.
At the same time, however, Montesquieu also includes in his considerations the
interest of the individual state or states in their separateness, as will become even
clearer in his thoughts on the right to war, self-​preservation, and conquest.57 For
without states there is no world. According to Montesquieu, states and the world
are co-​original. However, these interests of the individual states are not absolu-
tized as in the Hobbesian tradition and declared as the epistemological crux of the
matter—​with the consequence that the existence of a law of nations is essentially
negated by Hobbes. Montesquieu’s law of the nations is inspired by a ‘cosmopolitan
imagining’.58
In contrast to Hobbes, with Montesquieu one can speak of a post-​sovereign law
of nations, in which the dogma of sovereignty is qualified insofar as that legitimate
state behaviour must always be able to justify itself with reference to the nature of
the interstate order. Not only did the Spanish, and many other European nations,
breach the legitimate law of nations with their colonialism, but also the Iroquois,

54  The original French sentence is: ‘Mais, pour que l’alliance nous lie, il faut qu’elle soit juste: ainsi
une alliance faite entre deux nations pour en opprimer une troisième n’est pas légitime, et on peut la
violer sans crime’ (Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 95 (n. 4)).
55 Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 95 (n. 4).
56 Montesquieu, My Thoughts, no. 741 (n. 29). 57  See Section III.2.
58 Genevieve Lloyd, ‘Imaging Difference:  Cosmopolitanism in Montesquieu’s Persian Letters’,
Constellations 19(3) (2012), 480–​93, at 482.
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252 Christian Volk
who ‘devour their prisoners’, applied a law of nations that ‘is not founded on true
principles’.59 What is incorrect about these principles is that they negate the condi-
tions of the possibility of a world of peoples and they endanger peace. According to
Montesquieu, whoever invokes ‘humanity’ or ‘the world’ does not want to cheat;
‘the world’ or ‘humanity’ is a central reference of reason in the endeavour to justify
universal norms of the law of nations. In the following I will show how this view of
the law of nations is revealed in a systematic manner.

III.  Montesquieu and the System of his Thoughts

on the Law of Nations

1. War and self-​preservation in Montesquieu’s thoughts

on the law of nations
When we set out to examine the systematics of Montesquieu’s thoughts on the law
of nations, our attention is grabbed primarily by the (occasional) comments in
Book 1 and his remarks in Book 10 of The Spirit of the Laws. In Book 1, Chapter 3,
Montesquieu names the two principles of the law of nations from which all other
laws can and must be derived and on which the law of nations is ‘naturally founded’.
The first is the principle ‘that different nations ought in time of peace to do one
another all the good they can, and in time of war as little injury as possible…’.60
Secondly, Montesquieu states that the objective of war is to win. The objective of
the victory must be to conquer; and the objective of the conquest, however, is pres-
ervation.61 In Book 10, Montesquieu once again takes up these thoughts on the
principles of the law of nations. His starting point here is the assumption that the
law of nations is there to regulate the ‘offensive force’ between states.62
At first glance, his remarks appear to be more or less conventional. Conventional
in the sense that the law of nations is conceived apparently as a purely interstate
law—​Montesquieu speaks of the loi politique of the peoples in their mutual rela-
tionships—​and its very purpose is to regulate all those things which, due to their
nature, can be regulated either by force or by contract (whereby contract is the post-
ponement of force).63 In other words: at first glance, Montesquieu also considers
the law of nations to exist in order to define more precisely the jus ad bellum64 and
the question of the just war.65

59 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 3 (n. 3).

60 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 1, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
61  It is interesting here that Montesquieu states in Mes pensées that the objective of war is peace—​
and that therefore such measures may not be taken that make peace impossible (see Montesquieu, My
Thoughts, no. 1814 (n. 29)). A thought that later can be found in Kant’s Perpetual Peace (Immanuel
Kant, Zum ewigen Frieden: p. 7, ed. Rudolf Malter (1984)).
62 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10 (n. 3).
63  See Montesquieu, My Thoughts, no. 741 (n. 29).
64 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 2 (n. 3).
65  See Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 95 (n. 4).
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Montesquieu 253

Accordingly, Montesquieu begins with a double analogy:  first he compares

states with people and in this manner ascribes to the state—​once again quite
conventionally—​the status of subject. Second, he draws a comparison between the
individual right to natural defence and the right of the state to self-​preservation: just
as humans have the right to kill in self-​defence, so also do states have the right to
conduct war for the sake of their self-​preservation.66 Every person has the right to
kill in the case of natural defence, because his life belongs to him just as that of his
attacker belongs to him. Analogously, Montesquieu argues that the state may con-
duct war for the sake of its self-​preservation, because its self-​preservation is equally
as justifiable as the preservation of any other state.
What becomes clear here is that Montesquieu distances himself in his considera-
tions from Locke’s natural law tradition, or better: modernizes it. For Locke, the
right to life is based on the circumstance that man is considered to be the property
of God and therefore may not be used by another as a means to an end.67 (This is
the origin of the natural law concept of human dignity.) For Montesquieu, how-
ever, each person’s individual life is his own. But more important is that he also
distances himself from a state-​centred positivism that comes from Hobbes. Hobbes
justifies the right to self-​preservation with reference to a nature that is so ‘arranged
that all desire good for themselves. Insofar as it is within their capacities, it is neces-
sary to desire life, health, and further, insofar as it can be done, security of future
time’.68 With Montesquieu, in contrast, the right to self-​preservation is not simply
given, but rather its value is once again questioned—​and the answer is: the self-​
preservation of Country A is equally as just as that of Country B. And precisely for
this reason, Country A may defend itself. But just in relation to what? Montesquieu
does not address that question at this point, but in the style of modernized concept
of natural law, his answer will be: just against the background of a ‘world …’ for
which it is ‘… as necessary … that nations preserve themselves as it is necessary to
each nation that its citizens not be destroyed’.69
So already at the level of the justification of a right to state self-​preservation
we can see that Montesquieu does not follow the powerful Hobbesian tradition.
Instead he justifies the right to self-​preservation with reference to the preservation
of a higher, natural totality, which he calls world. Thus on the one hand he joins the
ranks (naturally with some limitations) of the Roman jus gentium tradition, such
as that found in Cicero, Livy, or Gaius, for which the ‘law of nations’ is the law of
humanity—​jus commune omnium hominium.70 On the other hand, he follows the
thinking of Vitoria, Suarez, and above all Grotius on the ‘modern law of nations’ as
a natural and un-​intentional or non-​constituted community of states.71 With refer-
ence to the general direction of this volume and as outlined in the introduction,

66 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 2 (n. 3).

67  John Locke, Second Treatise of Government, ed. C.B. Macpherson (1980), Ch. II, § 6, § 7: 9.
68  Thomas Hobbes, Man and Citizen, ed. Bernard Gert (1991), p. 48.
69 Montesquieu, My Thoughts, no. 1814 (n. 29).
70  See Steiger, ‘Völkerrecht’, p. 102 (n. 38).
71  See Steiger, ‘Völkerrecht’, p. 111 (n. 38).
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254 Christian Volk
Montesquieu’s considerations on this issue can be conceived in terms of system and
order.
As already stated, Montesquieu does not go any deeper into this matter and also
does not clarify the references. Instead he restricts the sustainability of his ana­
logy: while people have the right to natural defence, this right does not include the
necessity to attack. Rather, people must turn to the courts, and may become violent
only in an instance of present danger. States, on the other hand, have the right to a
pre-​emptive strike for the purpose of their self-​preservation.
‘But, with states, the right of natural defence carries along with it sometimes the
necessity of attacking; as, for instance, when one nation sees that a continuance of
peace will enable another to destroy her, and that to attack that nation instantly is
the only way to prevent her own destruction.’72
As well as the fact that Montesquieu concludes from this that smaller societies
more frequently have the right to conduct wars than larger ones, the perspective
adopted by Montesquieu here in order to justify an international legal norm is
interesting: here, Montesquieu (apparently) seems to conceive the law of the nation
from the self-​preserving logic of the state. The state is obliged to address the mat-
ter with the neighbouring country and to take the necessary measures. If a state
feels that its self-​preservation is threatened, it may attack. At first glance, therefore,
Montesquieu appears to follow the same line as Thomas Hobbes. According to
Hobbes, it is not a system of obligating norms of natural law that regulates inter-
state relationships, but rather rational utilitarian considerations. These dictate ‘that
every man ought to endeavour peace, as far as he has hope of obtaining it; and when
he cannot obtain it, that he may seek, and use, all helps, and advantages of war’.73
At the same time, however, Montesquieu again departs from the state-​centred
view of the law of nations in the very next sentence, adopts a more general perspec-
tive, and limits the room for possible arbitrariness. For the point of his considera-
tions is that one can speak of a ‘legitimate right’ to war only in the narrow context
of self-​preservation.74 To underline this view, Montesquieu becomes drastic and
argues that if this is not observed, then ‘everything is lost’ and when one ‘pro-
ceeds on arbitrary principles of glory, convenience, and utility, torrents of blood
must overspread the earth.’75 Here, too, it is difficult to ignore the anti-​Hobbesian
impulse of his thinking.

2. The right of conquest—​a discussion with the thinking of his

time on the state and the law of nations
Although a quick study of Montesquieu, possibly limited only to The Spirit of the
Laws, might give the impression that he understands the law of nations in the tradi-
tional sense as an interstate law, as the loi politique of states, it already becomes clear

72 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).

73 Hobbes, Leviathan, Book 1, Ch. 14 (n. 45).
74 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
75 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
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Montesquieu 255

at this point, however, that he is concerned with fundamentally restricting the room
for individual state arbitrariness. This impulse is very evident especially in Book 10,
Chapter 3 ‘Of the Right of Conquest’. For one thing, in this chapter he works out a
fundamental critique of contemporary thoughts on the state and the law of nations
that were prevalent during his age, which were ignited by the question of conquest
(a). It should be borne in mind that among some authors (in particular Abbé de
Saint-​Pierre),76 a critique of the European state system had become established to
an ever-​increasing degree from the eighteenth century, which was consolidated in
the topos of war and conquest. The accusation was that the structure of the absolut-
ist state was the actual cause of war, because it was unable to restrict the monarchs’
desire for enlargement.77 Montesquieu’s thoughts on the law of nations are also
rooted in this context, understood as an area that is obliged to regulate the question
of war and conquest. On the other hand, however, Montesquieu formulates a ‘right
of conquest’ in this chapter. The paradox of this right of conquest is that it legiti-
mizes the violent subjection of another nation—​Ramgotra interprets it as a plea for
a ‘moderate colonial empire’78—​while at the same time opening up the perspective
of a completely different kind of international law (b).

a) Revisiting the question of conquest

His implicit discussion with the existing positions of his time—​primarily of course
with a scepticism, formulated by Pufendorf, Thomasius and others in line with
Hobbes, of the idea that an independent jus gentium positivum exists at all alongside
natural law79—​he begins by naming the four fundamental ways in which a con-
queror could treat a conquered people: one possibility, that would conform with
the ‘law of nations that we follow today’,80 is that the conqueror continues to rule
according to the existing laws, and takes over only the execution of the political and
civil government. Or he could establish a new political and civil government or,
thirdly, he could dissolve society and divide it among other states. The fourth and
final possibility would be to exterminate all of the citizens.
If we examine the existing public law positions against this background, says
Montesquieu, then it becomes clear that they grant too much room to the freedom

76  See Wilhelm Janssen, ‘Krieg’, in Otto Brunner, Werner Conze, and Reinhart Koselleck (eds.),
Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe, Band 7 (2004), p. 584.
77  See Janssen, ‘Krieg’, pp. 584–​5 (n. 76). However it is misleading to see Montesquieu’s discussion
of conquest primarily as a critique of the desire for enlargement of the eighteenth-​century state, as sug-
gested by Janssen (see Janssen, ‘Krieg’, p. 586 (n. 76)). Montesquieu is not exactly averse to a certain
form of conquest.
78 Manjeet Kaur Ramgotra, ‘Republic and Empire in Montesquieu’s Spirit of the Laws’,
Millenium: Journal of International Studies 42(3) (2014), 790–​816, at p. 800.
79  See Steiger, ‘Völkerrecht’, p. 116 (n. 38).
80 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3). Here I deviate from the English transla-
tion and revert to the French original. The English translation does not fully express Montesquieu’s
meaning of ‘our national law’ as it is currently applied and followed. The original French sentence
reads: ‘La première manière est conforme au droit des gens que nous suivons aujourd’hui.’ (Charles de
Montesquieu, De l’esprit de loix (1750), Book 10, Ch. 3).
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256 Christian Volk
of states in the matter of a right to kill, thus opening the floodgates to arbitrariness.
Their thinking is based on false principles of the law of nations. Why?
According to Montesquieu, the ‘authors of our public law’ grant the conquerors
with the right to destroy the political community and they deduce from this that
the conqueror can even exterminate or enslave the people in the conquered state if it
corresponds with his utilitarian considerations.81 For Montesquieu, however, that
is ‘a wrong consequence from a false principle’.82 Following a completed conquest,
the conqueror may no longer kill, ‘because he has no longer the plea of natural
defence and self-​preservation’.83 Since natural defence and self-​preservation are the
only justifications for war, the lapse of such a situation removes any legitimate right
to kill. That is Montesquieu’s criticism of the major premise.
His criticism of the ‘wrong consequence’ comes down to an attack on the public
lawyers for their careless separation of people and citizens. Even if the political com-
munity may be destroyed—​and as I shall show, Montesquieu did not believe this
was the case—​it does not mean, in Montesquieu’s view, that the people that form
that community may be exterminated. ‘The state is the association of men, and not
the men themselves; the citizen may perish, and the man remain.’84
The enslavement of people in the course of a conquest is also unlawful. Only
if it is necessary to safeguard the conquest does one have the right to enslave peo-
ple temporarily. However, slavery can never be the legitimate goal of a conquest;
indeed, permanent slavery contradicts the principle of conquest. According to
Montesquieu, it is the duty of a conqueror to lead a conquered people back out of
bondage.85 There are ways and means of doing this. In the first instance, naturally,
by means of peace treaties, which he calls ‘sacred’.86 Montesquieu’s most plausible
example of a ‘successful’ conquest, however, is Alexander the Great, who, after the
conquest of the Persians, strived only to unite the two peoples and to extinguish
the differences between the victors and the defeated people. He achieved this, says
Montesquieu, by adopting the customs of the others, and by allowing, indeed
encouraging marriages.87

b) Between imperialism and humanity

For Montesquieu, the question of conquest is the burning lens for the debate in
the law of nations. Montesquieu postulates that the conqueror must comply with
a whole range of legal principles in his treatment of the conquered people: on the
one hand, according to natural law, that everyone should strive for the preserva-
tion of his species. But he must also observe the law of natural reason, which he

81 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).

82 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
83 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
84 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
85  See Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
86  The original French sentence reads: ‘Les traités de paix sont si sacrés parmi les hommes qu’il sem-
ble qu’ils soient la voix de la nature qui réclame ses droits’ (Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 95 (n. 4)).
87  See Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 14 (n. 3).
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Montesquieu 257

identifies in the so-​called golden rule. Furthermore, the law that leads to the forma-
tion of political communities must also be followed, whose duration is unlimited
by nature. That probably means that Montesquieu considered the existence of peo-
ple to be a value in itself, because this existence manifests the presence of a specific
general spirit.88 The fourth law mentioned by Montesquieu is the law that arises
from the nature of the thing.89 Here, the nature of the thing means that the con-
quest represents an acquisition. In line with Locke, he sees preservation and usage as
the spirit of acquisition, rather than destruction. Accordingly, the law dictates that
the conquered country and its people should be preserved.
Most of Montesquieu’s views on the law of nations are expressed in his thoughts on
the right of conquest, and these views are condensed in the following paragraph:
It is a conqueror’s business to repair a part of the mischief he has occasioned. The right, there-
fore, of conquest I define thus: a necessary, lawful, but unfortunate right, which leaves the con-
queror under a heavy obligation that must be redressed before humanity. (emphasis added)90
By characterizing the right of conquest as a ‘necessary right’, Montesquieu acknowl-
edges the circumstance that ‘the world’, in a political sense, is also dependent on the
interests of individual states and the accompanying reason of state, which differs
from state to state. A law of nations that denies its reference to the state as the sub-
ject of the law of nations and which ignores the state’s doctrine of self-​preservation
is inconceivable to him. In brief: the right of conquest cannot be invalidated for
Montesquieu by referring to individual human rights.
Yet the right of conquest is not only necessary; it is also legitimate. What makes
conquest legitimate in Montesquieu’s eyes? Here we touch upon a delicate point in
Montesquieu’s thinking, his cultural imperialism. For according to Montesquieu,
conquest is legitimate, because it can even create some advantages for the subjected
peoples. First he argues that conquered states are no longer fully in control of their
constitution anyway. Laws are usually flouted, with the resulting threat of both a
collapse in morals and political decay. Thus a conquest could help to prevent the
negative consequences of such a development. Second, conquest often leads to the
removal of tyrannical leaders.91 And, third, a conquest ‘may destroy pernicious

88  A similar argument can be found in Michael Walzer’s thoughts on the ‘moral standing of a state’
(Michael Walzer, ‘The Moral Standing of States. A Reponse to Four Critics’, Philosophy and Public
Affairs 9(3) (1980), 209–​29, at 211).
89 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
90 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 4 (n. 3). Here I deviate from the English transla-
tion and revert to the French original. The right of conquest is not ‘a necessary, lawful, but unhappy,
power’, as it says in the English translation, but rather a necessary, lawful, but unfortunate right.
Furthermore, the injuries were inflicted not only on humanity, as it says in the English translation, but
instead the idea is that amends must be made in order to free oneself from the guilt one has incurred,
before the eyes of humanity. The passage in the French original reads: ‘C’est à un conquérant à réparer
une partie des maux qu’il a faits. Je définis ainsi le droit de conquête: un droit nécessaire, légitime et
malheureux, qui laisse toujours à payer une dette immense, pour s’acquitter envers la nature humaine.’
(Montesquieu, De l’esprit de loix, Book 10, Ch. 4 (n. 79)).
91  The idea behind this might be that a tyranny, to Montesquieu’s mind, is the most violent form of
government. But because it cannot rely on the support of its subjects, but rather is based on fear and
violence, Montesquieu believes that it is also the weakest form of government.
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258 Christian Volk
prejudices, and lay, if I may presume to use the expression, the nation under a bet-
ter genius’.92 The public lawyers, according to Montesquieu, would have detected
these advantages more easily ‘were our law of nations exactly followed, and estab-
lished in every part of the globe’.93
Against the background of the colonial expansion of Europe, which Montesquieu
witnessed, the last point in particular must be interpreted in a value–​and cultural–​
imperial perspective. What is interesting, however, is that this perspective is not
inspired either solely by the superiority belief of the Enlightenment or by humanist
convictions.94 With Montesquieu, it is also linked to how he thinks about the law
in general and the law of the nations in particular. To remind us: for Montesquieu,
laws are relationships that arise necessarily from the nature of the thing. Accordingly,
for Montesquieu, the law of nations is not something that can be observed in com-
plete isolation from the specific historical disposition of the individual societies.
According to Montesquieu, the law of nations is also related to the general spirit
of a nation. To put it bluntly, Montesquieu formulates this thought in the sen-
tence that each nation has its own national law; or it appears in the phrase refer-
ring to ‘our [European] law of nations’—​in contrast to the national law of the
Chinese. At the same time, however, Montesquieu tries to justify universal norms
of the law of nations—​an endeavour, as shown above, that represents a methodi-
cal contradiction of the actual leanings of his legal and political thoughts.95 For
how can it be ensured that the universal norms of the law of nations that are (re-​)
constructed by Montesquieu can be harmonized with the general spirit of the peo-
ples, and also with other cultural circles? One answer is: by means of conquest by
an enlightened, prudent, benevolent, conqueror (as Alexander the Great allegedly
was). Montesquieu sympathizes with the idea that such a conqueror could initiate a
process of civilization and cultural homogenization—​a process which provides the
ground for the universal validity of international legal norms. Trade would be the
other alternative.96
At the same time it is absolutely crucial not to reduce Montesquieu to this cul-
tural imperialistic strain of his thoughts on the law of nations, which declares con-
quest to be legitimate for the purpose of civilizational progress. For one thing, he
is very much aware that the ‘civilized nations’ who would come into question as

92 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 4 (n. 3).

93 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 4 (n. 3).
94  There can be no doubt that Montesquieu was convinced by the superior cultural value of western
European ways of life. The indications are very obvious in his work. Equally obvious is the fact that
Montesquieu’s comments about people with dark skin must be judged as clearly racist from today’s
perspective. When Montesquieu speaks of the human race, black people are not included, for it is
‘impossible for us to suppose these creatures to be men’ (Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 15,
Ch. 5 (n. 3)). Montesquieu’s remarks about the people of South America or Asia also frequently appear
in figures of speech of infantilization. However, I disagree with Ramgotra’s account who argues that
Montesquieu’s political thinking ‘constructs a republican constitution that supports the pursuit of
empire abroad and allows a greater number of people to enjoy the benefits of colonial commerce and
trade’ (Ramgotra, ‘Republic and Empire in Montesquieu’s Spirit of the Laws’, p. 791 (n. 77)).
95  Howse, ‘Montesquieu on Commerce, Conquest, War, and Peace’, p. 6 (n. 14).
96  On this point see Howse, ‘Montesquieu on Commerce, Conquest, War, and Peace’, p. 9 (n. 14).
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Montesquieu 259

actors in such a project, ‘very often violated’97 key norms of the law of nations,
especially in their treatment of non-​European peoples, and caused the ‘most dan-
gerous wounds that the human species ever received’.98 Furthermore—​and more
importantly—​Montesquieu also labels the right of conquest an ‘unfortunate right’.
A conquest always ‘leaves the conqueror under a heavy obligation that must be
redressed before humanity’.99
With the conquest, the conqueror assumes a debt of guilt. This guilt is not moral
in nature, which would require the duty of atonement and whose final author-
ity might be God. Here Montesquieu aims at a political concept of guilt, which
demands liability and the ‘redressing of the injury’100 before the conquered people,
with humanity as the instance. Humanity is the world court that shall judge, both
from a contemporary and historical perspective, whether or not a conqueror has
absolved his guilt with regard to the conquered people. The term humanity not
only means an abstract, universal claim of reason to observe a minimal moral con-
sensus justified naturally, rationally, or legally; here the term represents the idea of a
specific order of human coexistence on this planet, which results from the relation-
ships of the peoples with each other, which is accompanied by political responsibili-
ties, and which is reflected in the obligations of the law of nations.

IV.  The Confederate Republic as the Political–​Institutional

Form of a Montesquieuesque Law of Nations

A confederate republic (république fédérative) is the form of government that comes

closest to representing Montesquieu’s thoughts on the law of nations.101 There are
many reasons for this.

1. Cultivation of a civil law of the world by means of a specific

interstate way of life
The confederate republic is the political–​institutional form in which a law of
nations could best be cultivated as a civil law of the world. In previous research on
Montesquieu, the idea of the confederate republic was discussed primarily from the
logic of the republic as a form of government. From the perspective of the republic
as a form of government, the confederate republic famously imposes itself because
it provides an answer to the two dangers facing a republic, namely the danger of
conquest by a foreign power if the republic is too small, or internal collapse if
the republic is too large. In contrast, according to Montesquieu the confederate

97 Montesquieu, My Thoughts, no. 1560 (n. 29).

98 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 4, Ch. 6 (n. 3).
99 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 4 (n. 3).
100 Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes, no. 95 (n. 4). Montesquieu speaks in the French original of ‘de
la réparation du tort’.
101  See also Long, ‘Civilizing International Politics’, p. 783 (n. 11).
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260 Christian Volk
republic combines the internal advantages of a republican form of government with
those of a monarchy constituted by size and with an external show of strength. The
fact that the confederate republic now imposes itself against the background of the
thoughts on the law of nations as nothing less than the ideal form of government
is due on the one hand to the fact that Montesquieu explicitly calls it a ‘form of
government’. The nature of the confederate republic as a form of government is
a convention, by which several petty states agree to become members of a larger one, which
they intend to establish. It is a kind of assemblage of societies that constitute a new one,
capable of increasing by means of farther associations, till they arrive to such a degree of
power, as to be able to provide for the security of the whole body.102
The confederate republic achieves the idea of a ‘society of societies’, in other
words a kind of world society that consists of different peoples as its citizens. To put
it in a nutshell: the confederate republic is the political–​institutional form of a law
of nations as the civil law of the world. The individual states remain preserved in
the form of relatively small republics, and are armed against external dangers due to
the alliance. At the same time, however, they cultivate the key conviction that one
is dependent in many ways on the other peoples, and that cooperation is the only
suitable behaviour.103 Thus, according to Montesquieu, a nation in a confederate
republic may no longer form an alliance without the consent of the other states;
decisions on behalf of the confederate republic are made in a joint council and in
accordance with gradated voting rights, depending on the size of the republic; the
contributions to the confederate republic, in turn, depend on the votes in the coun-
cil and the judges and civil servants should also ideally be elected by the council,
in Montesquieu’s view.104 Since, for Montesquieu, the universal norms of the law
of nations can be justified by means of reflection, but can be brought to life only
through the relationship to the general spirit of a community, these considerations
on the political–​institutional form are indispensable in order to allow a civil law of
the world to become reality.

2. Pacification of interstate relationships

Another reason in favour of the confederate republic as a form of government is
that it contributes to the pacification of the world. According to Montesquieu, this
is due firstly to the fact that war and conquest contradict the nature of the thing
within a confederate republic. A confederate republic that allowed such a thing
would disintegrate immediately.105 Secondly, however—​and this is a much more

102 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 9, Ch. 1 (n. 3).

103 In Réflexions sur la monarchie universelle en Europe he states that ‘France and England (need) the
wealth of Poland and Russia, just as one of their provinces needs the other. And the state that believes
it can increase its power by subjecting its neighbour usually weakens itself as a result’ (Montesquieu,
Betrachtungen über die universale Monarchie in Europa: 235). A very similar thought can also be found
in Mes pensées (see Montesquieu, My Thoughts, no. 318 (n. 29)).
104  See Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 9, Chs. 1–​2 and Book 4, Ch. 3 (n. 3).
105 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 6 (n. 3).
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Montesquieu 261

important consideration—​according to Montesquieu a confederate republic can

function only with republics. Yet Montesquieu argues that republics in general, and
democratic republics in particular, are especially poorly suited to conquer cities or
other states—​or, to put it another way: the requirements for such a conquest are
such that aforementioned amends would become part of the raison d’état, which
would therefore lead only to benevolent conquests by republics.106 Otherwise, in
Montesquieu’s view, a republic would risk its own freedom if it did not integrate
a conquered people in the democratic form of government, but instead exploited
them. One reason is the hate that it would provoke with this difference—​here a
democratic republic; there a despotic regime. Another reason given by Montesquieu
is that the civil servants who would then administer the conquered country, would
have too much uncontrolled power, which would have a negative impact on the
home country. Hannah Arendt would later take up this idea in the form of the
boomerang theory in her analysis of imperialism, applying it to the European state
at the beginning of the twentieth century.107

3. The law of nations as a guarantee of political freedom

As well as the cultivation of a civil law of the world as a specific interstate way of life
and the pacification of interstate relationships, a confederate republic that observes
Montesquieu’s view of the law of nations is also one of three conditions for a nation
to be able to live in freedom.
When it comes to the question of political freedom in Montesquieu’s work, ref-
erence is usually made to Book 11 and Book 12 of The Spirit of the Laws. Here
Montesquieu discusses the question of political freedom with reference to the state
and constitutional law on the one hand and civil and criminal law on the other. In
terms of constitutional law, Montesquieu’s point is to argue that political freedom
does not consist in either classical autonomy or in the assertion of will, but rather
a) in the fact that one may do what the laws hold in prospect, and b) that one is not
forced to do things that are forbidden by law. Civil and criminal law, on the other
hand, must be designed in such a manner that the presumption of innocence is
safeguarded and that no citizen is at the mercy of the arbitrariness of others. Both

106 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 10, Ch. 8 (n. 3).

107  In the course of her thoughts on imperialism, Arendt argues that the German and other colonial
powers were not only able to carry out all kinds of cruelty on the African continent at the end of the
nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth century, which they would later carry out on themselves.
Moreover, the racism and brutal treatment of the people living there denied the idea of universality
of the values and ideals of the Enlightenment. Additionally, it revealed the fact that a legal order can
be designed in such a manner that it declares the suspension of law at discretion and according to the
situation to be permissible. In brief: imperialism as counter-​Enlightenment, but which does not remain
restricted to the African continent, but rather which, upon the return of the employees of this imperial-
ism and their experiences, also changed the spiritual situation in the mother countries. The core of the
boomerang theory is that one cannot conduct war and infringe elementary human rights somewhere
or other and yet assume that that which occurs at the other end of the world stays there. Like a boo-
merang, this story comes back to the mother country (see Hannah Arendt, Origins of Totalitarianism,
p. 155 (1994)).
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262 Christian Volk
perspectives are significant if we want to understand Montesquieu’s discourse on
political freedom.
Yet they remain incomplete. The reason for this is that one assumes, if we stay
with these two perspectives, that political freedom is solely a matter for individual
states and between states, which exists and can be clarified only with reference to
the laws that prevail in the country in question. What one overlooks is that freedom
also has an international dimension. According to Montesquieu, if freedom con-
sists in the first instance in the fact that one cannot be coerced into an action that is
not prescribed by law, then one is only free in a political sense if civil laws exist, or
if one lives under civil laws. Montesquieu thus concludes that nations ‘who live not
among themselves under civil laws, are not free; they are governed by force; they may
continually force, or be forced’.108 Thus a law of nations as a civil law of the world
is also demanded from the perspective of the realization of political freedom, which
ideally accompanies the confederate republic as a political–​institutional form.

Selected Bibliography
Althusser, Louis, Politics and History: Montesquieu, Rousseau, Marx (NY: Verso, 2007).
Howse, Robert, ‘Montesquieu on Commerce, Conquest, War, and Peace’, Brooklyn Journal
of International Law 31(3) (2006), 694–​708.
Krause, Sharon R., ‘Laws, Passion and the Attractions of Right Action in Montesquieu’,
Philosophy and Social Criticism 32(2) (2006), 211–​30.
Lloyd, Genevieve, ‘Imaging Difference: Cosmopolitanism in Montesquieu’s Persian Letters’,
Constellations 19(3) (2012), 480–​93.
Rahe, Paul A., Montesquieu and the Logic of Liberty:  War, Religion, Commerce, Climate,
Terrain, Technology, Uneasiness of Mind, the Spirit of Political Vigilance, and the Foundations
of the Modern Republic (New Haven, NJ: Yale University Press, 2009).
Richter, Melvin, The Political Theory of Montesquieu (Cambridge:  Cambridge University
Press, 1977).
Shackleton, Robert, Montesquieu:  A  Critical Biography (Oxford:  Oxford University
Press, 1961).

108 Montesquieu, Spirit of the Laws, Book 26, Ch. 20 (n. 3).

 263

13
Emer de Vattel on the Society of Nations
and the Political System of Europe
Simone Zurbuchen

This chapter deals with Emer de Vattel’s treatise The Law of Nations, one of the best-​
known classics in the history of international law. Despite the continuous attention
it received in the scholarly literature as well as in the diplomatic and juridical practice,
especially in the United States, it remained highly contested ever since its first publica-
tion in 1758. The aim of this contribution in exploring Vattel’s treatise is to show why
the debate about its proper interpretation is unlikely to come to a conclusion soon. After
reviewing the background and career of the author in Section I, I turn to his definition
of the law of nations, with the aim of showing its indebtedness to the tradition of mod-
ern natural law and, at the same time, of highlighting its originality. The latter is mainly
due to the significance Vattel attributed to the sovereign state as a free and independent
member of the society of nations (Section II). In Section III I expose the many dualisms
Vattel established in order to develop his very broad notion of the law of nations, which
comprises both positive and negative duties incumbent on states, and also accounts for
certain modes of conduct states need to tolerate by necessity when the end of peace can-
not be reconciled with that of justice. I also aim to explain why considering Vattel as a
founding father of positivism rests on a misunderstanding of his theory of the voluntary
law of nations. This is further elucidated in Section IV, where I examine how Vattel put
his dualisms to work in the domain of war. In this context we see how he applies the law
of nations to the ‘political system’ of Europe, which he considers as a kind of republic
instituted for the maintenance of order and liberty and founded on the scheme of the
balance of power. In the last section, I briefly deal with Vattel’s contested legacy.

I.  Career and Main Works

Emer de Vattel was born in 1714 at Couvet, in the Principality of Neuchâtel and
Valangin, which was under Prussian rule since 1707.1 He studied philosophy and

1  On Vattel’s biography see Ed[ouard] Béguelin, ‘En souvenir de Vattel’, in Recueil de Travaux
(1929), pp. 33–​176. See also the editors’ introduction to the edition of Vattel’s main work I will refer

Emer de Vattel on the Society of Nations and the Political System of Europe. Simone Zurbuchen. © Simone
Zurbuchen, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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264 Simone Zurbuchen

theology, first at the University of Basel (1728–​1730) and later at the Academy of
Geneva. It is most likely that he studied natural law in Geneva under the tutelage of
Jean-​Jacques Burlamaqui. Together with the Huguenot Jean Barbeyrac, who taught
natural law at the Academy of Lausanne from 1711–​1718, Burlamaqui and Vattel
belong to the so-​called Swiss school of natural law. Louis Bourguet, who gave pri-
vate lectures on philosophy, law, and mathematics in the city of Neuchâtel, also
influenced Vattel. Unlike Barbeyrac and Burlamaqui, who taught the law of nature
and nations on the basis of Pufendorf ’s works, Bourguet was a great admirer of
Leibniz’ rationalism. In 1741, Vattel published his first book, a defence of the sys-
tem of Leibniz against the objections of the Lausanne professor of philosophy and
mathematics Jean-​Pierre de Crousaz.
The dedication of the book to the Prussian King Frederick II earned Vattel an
invitation from the French ambassador in Berlin to come to the court. He failed
however to obtain the diplomatic position he hoped for, and the king showed no
interest in coming back to his father’s promise to create an Academy in Neuchâtel.
Vattel moved on to Dresden in 1743, where he was promised employment by count
Brühl, first minister of Elector Friedrich August II of Saxony (who as August III was
also the elective king of Poland), who in the ongoing war of the Austrian Succession
sided with Austria and Great Britain against Prussia. While waiting for an occupa-
tion, Vattel returned to Neuchâtel, where he wrote essays and began studying the
works of Wolff. In his Essai sur le fondement du droit naturel, first published in 1746
and re-​edited the following year in the collection Le loisir philosophique ou pièces
diverses, he deals with the principle of obligation and defends a middle position
between Leibniz’ rationalism and Pufendorf ’s voluntarism. In this context, he takes
issue with Barbeyrac’s reflections on the highly critical judgment that Leibniz had
made on Pufendorf ’s De officio hominis et civis (1673).
In 1747, Vattel was sent as a diplomatic envoy to Berne. This employment
secured him a modest annual pension, but did not relieve him from financial
hardship. He remained in Neuchâtel for much of the next ten years and began
to work on the law of nations. He was in close contact with Jean Henri Samuel
Formey, in whose house he had lived in Berlin in 1742–​1743. At that time,
Formey was pastor and professor of philosophy at the Collège français. In 1748,
he became the perpetual secretary of the Prussian Academy. Not least because
of their interest in Wolff’s philosophy and its circulation in the French speaking
parts of Europe, Vattel and Formey became close friends. Their correspondence
lasted from 1743 to 1767.2 While Vattel encouraged Formey to work on Wolff’s
law of nature (published in eight volumes, 1740–​1748) and recommended ‘to

to: Emer de Vattel, The Law of Nations, eds. Béla Kapossy and Richard Whatmore (2008). This edition
is based on the 1797 English edition of the treatise, which comprises the observations Vattel later added
to the first edition of his work.
2  André Bandelier, ed., Emer de Vattel à Jean Henri Samuel Formey: Correspondances autour du Droit
des gens (2012). See also André Bandelier, ‘De Berlin à Neuchâtel: la genèse du Droit des gens d’Emer
de Vattel’, in Martin Fontius and Helmut Holzhey (eds.), Schweizer im Berlin des 18. Jahrhunderts,
(1996), pp. 45–​56.
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Emer de Vattel 265

keep the principles and the essential of the method of our philosopher, but to
cover all that with a varnish as elegant as lucid, in a word to cloth it à la fran-
çaise’,3 he thought about doing the same with Wolff’s law of nations that he began
to study in 1750. He decided however to wait for Formey’s publication and to
continue studying Wolff’s law of nature carefully. His critical observations on
it were accomplished in 1753, but only published in 1762 as Questions de droit
naturel et observations sur le Traité du Droit de la Nature de M. le Baron de Wolf.
Vattel’s masterpiece, Le Droit des Gens, ou Principes de la Loi Naturelle, appliqués à
la Conduite & aux Affaires des Nations & des Souverains, was completed in 1756.
Having first envisaged publishing the treatise with Elias Luzac junior in Leyden,
Vattel eventually decided to have it printed in Neuchâtel in 1757, though the title
page says London 1758. A pirate edition fabricated by a certain Theodor Flaack
appeared at the same time. The publication of the Law of Nations immediately
changed Vattel’s personal situation. He became privy councilor in Dresden and
chief adviser to the government of Saxony on foreign affairs. Besides the Questions
de droit naturel, Vattel also published the Mélanges de littérature, de morale et de
politique (1760)4 during his stay in Dresden. Due to ill health, he had to return
to Neuchâtel, where he died in 1767.

II. The Law of Nations and the Tradition

of Modern Natural Law

In the ‘Preface’ to the Law of Nations, Vattel accounts for the way in which his
treatise is related to Wolff’s philosophy. He originally planned to simply detach
the law of nations from the other parts of Wolff’s system, and to get rid of the
formal method of geometry, that rendered the work dry. By doing this, he wanted
to ensure Wolff’s Ius gentium methodo scientifica pertractatum (1749) a reception
in the polite world. He later decided however to form a different work, which
also comprised the duties of a nation towards itself which Wolff had dealt with
in the chapters on universal public law in his Ius naturae. In line with the teach-
ing of modern natural law, Vattel holds that, on account of its origin, the law
of nations belongs to the law of nature. States or nations being considered like
individual persons living together in the state of nature, all the duties and rights
that nature prescribes and attributes to men in general, must also be applied to
nations. Criticizing Pufendorf and his followers, Vattel insists however that the
law of nations is not the same as the law of nature, since the latter needs to be
duly modified in its application to states. For this reason he sides with Wolff, who
considered the law of nations as a distinct science.5

3  Letter to Formey, 12 April 1749, in Bandelier (ed.), Emer de Vattel à Jean Henri Samuel Formey,
pp. 97–​98, translated into English by the author (n. 2).
4  Reprinted in 1765 as Amusemens de littérature, de morale, et de politique.
5  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, pp. 7–​13 (n. 1).
26

266 Simone Zurbuchen

Despite this, Vattel acknowledges that the study of the law of nations presupposes
acquaintance with the ordinary law of nature, of which human individuals are the
object. This is best visible in the way he accounts for the principle of the law of nations,
on which he founds the obligation of states to fulfil the duties imposed on them by
nature. This is the desire of happiness, which drives human individuals as well as nations
to seek their own preservation and perfection.6 Since Vattel subscribes to the perfec-
tionist metaphysics of Leibniz and Wolff, his doctrine of the law of nations embraces
an individualist and utilitarian dimension. The obligation of human individuals and of
nations to fulfil the obligations nature imposes on them against each other ultimately
derives from their obligations to preserve and perfect themselves. In case of conflict
between the two kinds of obligations, the latter outdo the former.7
By defining the law of nations as ‘the science which teaches the rights subsist-
ing between nations or states, and the obligations correspondent to these rights’,8
Vattel acknowledges the nation-​state as exclusive subject of the law of nations. Its
essential property is sovereignty. Drawing a clear distinction between the state or
nation as ‘body politic’, to which sovereignty originally belongs, and the person
or senate to whom sovereignty is entrusted in the social contract,9 he defends the
right of a nation to resist a tyrannical prince.10 Sovereignty adopts an internal as
well as an external dimension. While the former is essential for a nation in order
to govern itself, the latter implies the liberty and independence from other sover-
eign nations.11 This does however not mean that sovereignty would be absolute or
unlimited. Taking states as moral persons with understanding and will, Vattel holds
them to be subjected to the law of nations. Two features are intrinsically linked with
the liberty and independence of nations. Firstly, the principle of non-​interference
in the internal affairs of states:
It is an evident consequence of the liberty and independence of nations, that all have a right
to be governed as they think proper, and that no state has the smallest right to interfere in the
government of another. Of all the rights that can belong to a nation, sovereignty is, doubt-
less, the most scrupulously to respect, if they would not do her an injury.12
There is only one exception to the prohibition of intervention: if a people has a
legitimate ground for resisting the prince and revolt against his tyrannical rule, any
foreign power has a right to secure it, on condition however that the people asks for
assistance.13 The second feature closely linked with the liberty and independence

6  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 6, p. 69, note (n. 1). On the principle of obli-
gation see also his Essay on the Foundation of Natural Law, transl. T.J. Hochstrasser, published as an
appendix to The Law of Nations, pp. 747–​71.
7  See Emmanuelle Jouannet, Emer de Vattel et l’émergence doctrinale du droit international classique
(1998), pp. 147–​9.
8  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 3, p. 67, italics omitted (n. 1).
9  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book I, ch. IV, §§ 38, 40, pp. 97, 99 (n. 1).
10  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book I, ch. IV, § 54, pp. 110–​12 (n. 1).
11  See Stéphane Beaulac, ‘Emer de Vattel and the Externalization of Sovereignty’, Journal of the
History of International Law 5 (2003), 237–​92.
12  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. IV, § 54, p. 289 (n. 1).
13  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. IV, § 56, pp. 290–​1 (n. 1).
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Emer de Vattel 267

of nations is their equality, which implies the reciprocity of their rights and obliga-
tions: ‘whatever is lawful for one nation, is equally lawful for any other; and what-
ever is justifiable in the one, is equally so in the other’. Juxtaposing the principle of
equality with the factual inequality of nations, Vattel famously states: ‘A dwarf is
as much a man as a giant; a small republic is no less a sovereign state than the most
powerful kingdom.’14
Given that Vattel conceived of the law of nations as a legal system ensuring
the coexistence of sovereign entities independent from each other, his treatise is
held to express in mature form what we now call ‘classic international law’.15 This
would explain his immediate reception in America as well as his enduring influ-
ence in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.16 Equally important in this
regard is another salient feature of the Law of Nations. In contradistinction to his
predecessors, Vattel decidedly avoided any kind of vain erudition and relied on
examples taken from modern history in order to illustrate his doctrine, which he
otherwise claimed to base on general principles and demonstration.17 Drawing
on various materials scattered in the literature he relied on, he produced a manual
of international law that gained continuous attention since it was first published
in 1758.

III.  The Natural and the Voluntary Law of Nations

Given that Vattel left at one side the idea of developing the law of nations as part of
a deductive system, his work marks undoubtedly a turning point in the tradition of
Wolffianism. It would however be problematic to identify this turn with a shift to
positivism, as was often suggested.18 This interpretation rests on a misunderstanding
of the voluntary law of nations. Siding on this issue with Grotius, who distinguished
the internal or natural law from the law of nations properly so called, that rested on
the common consent of mankind, Vattel proposes to supplement the natural law of
nations with the voluntary law. He thus conceives of the law of nations as ‘double
law’.19
While adopting the expression ‘voluntary law’ from Wolff, he wholeheartedly
rejects the latter’s proposal to derive this law from the idea of a great republic (civitas

14  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, §§ 18–​19, p. 75 (n. 1).

15  Peter Haggenmacher, ‘L’état souverain comme sujet du droit international, de Vitoria à Vattel’,
Droits 15–​16 (1992–​1993), pp. 11–​20.
16  Vincent Chetail, ‘Vattel et la sémantique du droit des gens: une tentative de reconstruction cri-
tique’, in Vincent Chetail and Peter Haggenmacher (eds.), Vattel’s International Law in a XXIst Century
Perspective (2011), pp. 388–​433, here pp. 396–​402. For more details about the reception of Vattel’s
treatise in America see Section 5 below.
17  See Jouannet, Emer de Vattel, pp. 133–​40 (n. 7).
18  This interpretation is largely indebted to Peter Pavel Remec, The Position of the Individual in
International Law (1960), pp. 129–​57. For an excellent critique of this account see Gabriella Silvestrini,
‘Justice, War and Inequality: The Unjust Aggressor and the Enemy of the Human Race in Vattel’s
Theory of the Law of Nations’, Grotiana 31 (2010), 44–​68.
19  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preface, p. 17. For the critique of Grotius, see pp. 7–​8 (n. 1).
268

268 Simone Zurbuchen

maxima).20 In his view, this fiction is neither admissible in itself nor would it receive
the ‘obedient acquiescence of sovereign states’. The main reason for this is that sov-
ereign states claim and actually possess absolute independence from each other and
acknowledge no other laws than those imposed on them by nature. It is true, Vattel
admits, that there does not exist any disposition in mankind voluntarily to observe
the rules of the law of nature. This is why the forming of political associations was
the only means for individual men of ‘securing the condition of the good, and
repressing the wicked’. He contends however that the civil association is equally
necessary for states, as it was for individuals, firstly, since men having united under
the same government become able to supply most of their wants and do not neces-
sarily depend on the assistance of other political societies. Secondly, states conduct
themselves in a different manner from individuals: measures of the public are car-
ried on with more deliberation and circumspection, and states make arrangements
and establish regulations by treaties on important occasions. The third argument
Vattel advances against the fiction of a great republic is that independence is neces-
sary to states in order to discharge the duties of preservation and perfection they
owe to themselves and to their citizens. Only they would know how to govern
themselves in the manner best suited to their circumstances.
Instead of deducing the voluntary law of nations from the fiction of a great
republic, Vattel proposes to adopt ‘a mode of reasoning nearly similar to that which
Monsieur Wolf has pursued, with respect to individuals, in his treatise on the law of
nature’. The doctrine he adopts here, and he applies to nations, states that the rules,
which must be admitted in questions of external right, do not cancel the obligation
which the internal right imposes on the conscience of nations. What nations may
do by internal right is stated in the necessary law of nations; the voluntary law regu-
lates the domain of external right. Whereas the necessary law corresponds to the
‘immutable laws of justice’, the voluntary law indicates what needs to be tolerated
‘through necessity’.21 This dualism of the necessary and the voluntary law is at the
origin of much dispute about the correct interpretation of Vattel’s treatise.
In order to properly assess this dualism, we now turn to the deduction of these
two kinds of law. It is important to stress from the beginning that Vattel claims to
deduce both of them ‘from nature’. This implies that the voluntary law does not
rest on the actual consent of nations. Instead, nations are bound to consent to the
latter by the law of nature:
so that we are authorized to presume their consent, without seeking for a record in the
annals of the world; because, even if they had not given it, the law of nature supplies their
omission, and gives it for them. In this particular, nations have not the option of giving or
withholding their consent at pleasure: the refusal to give it would be an infringement of the
common rights of nations.22

20  Citations in this and the next paragraph are from E.  de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preface,
pp. 14–​16 (n. 1).
21  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preface, p. 16 (n. 1).
22  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. XII, § 192, p. 592 (n. 1).
 269

Emer de Vattel 269

The first step consists in the deduction of the necessary law of nations. In this con-
text, Vattel adopts the mode of reasoning by analogy. He begins by observing that
experience sufficiently proves that man is so formed by nature that he cannot supply
all his wants without the intercourse and assistance of his fellow beings, whether for
his preservation or for the sake of perfecting his nature and enjoying a life suitable
to a rational being. From this he concludes that it was nature’s intention that men
should communicate with and mutually assist each other. Since the natural society
among men, in fact the universal society of the human race, is ‘an institution of
nature herself ’, men are obligated to cultivate it, and to discharge its duties. Once
they unite in civil societies, for the purpose of forming a separate state or nation,
men remain still bound to the performance of their duties towards the rest of man-
kind. All the difference consists in this, that having agreed to act in common and to
submit their will to the body of the society, it thenceforth belongs to that body, the
state, and its rulers, to fulfil the duties towards strangers and towards other states.
That society, considered as moral person, since possessed of an understanding, volition, and
strength peculiar to itself, is therefore obliged to live on the same terms with other societies
or states, as individual man was obliged, before those establishments, to live with other men,
that is to say, according to the laws of the natural society established among the human race,
with the difference only of such exceptions as may arise from the different nature of the
subjects.23
Since the object of the natural society between all mankind is that they should
lend each other mutual assistance, the object of the great society established by
nature between all nations is also the interchange of mutual assistance for their own
improvement and that of their condition.
Based on this idea of a society of nations, Vattel spells out the two general laws
the natural or necessary law of nations consists of. According to the first one, ‘each
individual nation is bound to contribute every thing in her power to the happiness
and perfection of all the others’, if she does not do thereby an injury to herself. The
second general law says ‘that each nation should be in the peaceable enjoyment of
that liberty which she inherits from nature’.24 In light of the significance Vattel
attributes to the liberty and independence of nations as well as to their right to be
governed as they think proper, or the right to sovereignty,25 it is rather surprising
that he deals with the duties of assistance or offices of humanity in the first place,
and relegates the duties of justice, which require nations not to violate the rights of
others,26 under the heading of the second general law of nations.
The order he adopted was however deliberate. Hence, he points to the utopian
character of his teaching by observing that it would be ‘a subject of ridicule’ to ‘many
of those refined conductors of nations’, and ‘appear very strange to cabinet politi-
cians’. Invoking the authority of Cicero, he defends the idea of ‘universal justice,

23  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 11, p. 73 (n. 1).

24  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, §§ 13–​15, pp. 73–​4 (n. 1).
25  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. IV, § 54, p. 289 (n. 1).
26  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. V, §§ 63–​4, p. 296 (n. 1).
270

270 Simone Zurbuchen

which consists in completely fulfilling the law of nature’,27 and shows how impor-
tant it is that nations defend a neighbouring state unjustly attacked by a powerful
enemy who threatens to oppress it, that they relieve the distress of a nation afflicted
with famine, or that they transfer knowledge and science to a nation ‘desirous of
shaking off its native barbarism’.28 He even invokes love of other nations as ‘the
pure source from which the offices of humanity should proceed’ and reminds
the politicians how important it is to cultivate the friendship of other nations.29
In the end, he dwells in the delightful dream of a universal republic:
How happy would mankind be, were these amiable precepts of nature [duties of human-
ity] every where observed! Nations would communicate to each other their products and
their knowledge; a profound peace would prevail all over the earth, and enrich it with its
invaluable fruits; industry, the sciences, and the arts, would be employed in promoting our
happiness, no less than in relieving our wants; violent methods of deciding contests would
be no more heard of: all differences would be terminated by moderation, justice, and equity;
the world would have the appearance of a large republic; men would live every-​where like
brothers, and each individual be a citizen of the universe. That this idea should be but a
delightful dream!30
Despite this excursion into utopia, the chapter on the offices of humanity testifies
no less to Vattel’s pragmatism than the rest of his work. For he goes on to stress
that disorderly passions, and private and mistaken interest would forever prevent
the large republic to be realized. From this realistic angle he recalls that mutual
assistance is not so necessary and less frequently required between nations than
between individual men, and he insists that the care of its own safety requires more
circumspection and reserve from a nation than from an individual man giving
assistance to others. Since ‘melancholy experience’ would show that most nations
aim to strengthen and enrich themselves at the expense of others, to domineer
over them, and, if an opportunity offers, to bring them under their yoke, pru-
dence requires caring in the first place about one’s own safety instead of strength-
ening an enemy. Hence, no nation is obliged to give such assistance to another as
may become destructive of itself.31 Vattel’s manner of dealing with the offices of
humanity perfectly illustrates his manner of developing the law of nations. As com-
mentators have observed, he very often poses a general principle and begins, on
that basis, to formulate objections and to adjust its application to various concrete
cases.32 This is no doubt the reason why Ian Hunter qualified the discursive art
employed in the Law of Nations as ‘casuistical’ in the historical sense ‘of a discourse

27  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. I, § 1, pp. 259–​60 (n. 1).
28  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. I, §§ 4–​6, pp. 262–​5 (n. 1).
29  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. I §§ 11–​12, p. 267 (n. 1). See Petter Korkman,
‘L’amour universel du genre humain comme fondement des relations internationals chez de Vattel’, in
Yves Sandoz (ed.), Réflexions sur l’impact, le rayonnement et l’actualité du ‘Droit des gens’ d’Emer de Vattel,
(2010), pp. 23–​9.
30  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. I, § 16, pp. 268–​9 (n. 1).
31  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. I, § 16, pp. 269–​70; see also § 3, p. 262 (n. 1).
32  Chetail even considers ambiguity as a method and as a system, Chetail, ‘Vattel et la sémantique
du droit des gens’, pp. 423–​32 (n. 16).
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Emer de Vattel 271

that mediates between conflicting principles, and that adjusts principles to cases
and circumstances’.33
Despite the utopian rhetoric we have just considered, Vattel leaves no doubt that
the second general law pertaining to the necessary law of nations takes precedence
over the first one, since ‘the natural society of nations cannot subsist, unless the
natural rights of each be duly respected’.34 This is further clarified on the basis of the
distinction between perfect and imperfect rights and obligations. In this context,
Vattel draws on the distinction between internal and external obligation: the obli-
gation is internal, as it derives from a nation’s duty; it is external, as it is considered
relative to another nation. While the internal obligation is always the same and
only varies in degree, the external obligation is divided into perfect and imperfect,
and the rights corresponding to it in other nations are also perfect or imperfect.
While holding a perfect right entitles a nation to compel those who refuse to fulfil
the correspondent obligation, an imperfect right gives her only a right to ask.35 The
distinction between perfect and imperfect obligations and rights complies with the
distinction between the duties of justice on the one hand, and the duties or offices
of humanity on the other. While on account of their obligatory force the two kinds
of duties are the same, nations are absolutely bound to live up to the former, but
are at liberty do decide whether they can or cannot contribute to the welfare of
another nation without neglecting the obligation to secure their own preservation
and perfection.
It is crucial not to confound this distinction between internal and external obli-
gation with the one between internal and external right we have considered ear-
lier.36 While the first distinction exclusively concerns the natural or necessary law of
nations, the second one serves to distinguish the necessary from the voluntary law.
In consequence, the latter does not spell out what nations can be constrained to do
by other nations. It rather accounts for what nations need to tolerate by necessity.
The liberty of nations Vattel has in mind here is the liberty of a nation ‘to form her
own judgment of what her conscience prescribes to her […]—​of what is proper
and improper for her to do’.37 This liberty of judgment matters, first, when it comes
for a nation to decide whether she can perform any duty of aid (which imposes an
imperfect obligation) for another nation without neglecting the duty she owes to
herself. It matters, secondly, when it comes to a dispute between nations, where
each of them will in fact maintain that she has justice on its side. Since in this case ‘it
does not belong to either of the parties interested, or to other nations, to pronounce
a judgment on the contested question’, nations will have to ‘suffer certain things to
be done, though in their own nature unjust and condemnable’.38

33  Ian Hunter, ‘Vattel’s Law of Nations: Diplomatic Casuistry for the Protestant Nation’, Grotiana
31 (2010), 108–​40, at 125.
34  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 15, p. 74 (n. 1).
35  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 17, pp. 74–​5 (n. 1).
36  A widespread mistake in the International Relations literature.
37  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 16, p. 74 (n. 1).
38  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 21, p. 76 (n. 1).
27

272 Simone Zurbuchen

One of the major defects of Vattel’s reasoning consists in his unclear and some-
times confusing account of the voluntary law of nations. Thus he limits himself in
producing a general definition of this kind of law without however developing it
in a concise manner. As he indicates at the end of the ‘Preliminaries’, he does not
treat separately the necessary and the voluntary law of nations. Instead, having
established ‘under each individual head of our subject, […] what the necessary law
prescribes’, he would immediately add ‘how and why the decisions of that law must
be modified by the voluntary law of nations’.39 In order to illustrate this, I will in
the next section turn to the law of war.
Before doing so, we should pause a moment and resume the complex set of dual-
isms Vattel has established. Considering the natural or necessary law of nations,
we can easily see that the Swiss author adopts a very broad notion of law, which
embraces the first two sets of dualisms we have looked at above: 1) the duties of
nations towards themselves, as opposed to the duties towards others, which in turn
are divided into duties of humanity, duties to consider each other as equals, and
duties of justice; 2)  the duties of justice imposing on nations a perfect external
obligation as opposed to the duties of humanity imposing an imperfect external
obligation; 3) the necessary and the voluntary law of nations. Based on a misunder-
standing of the voluntary law of nations, a great number of commentators tended
to focus exclusively on the perfect rights of nations that are external and coercible.
By reducing the ‘real’ Vattelian law of nations to the core of perfect obligations
and rights, deemed to protect the liberty and independence of sovereign nations,
they concluded that Vattel developed a highly individualist system of international
law and made of him a foundational figure of positivism. Against this reductionist
reading of Vattel’s treatise, it is important to underline that the latter testifies to a
broad understanding of law, perfectly in line with the tradition of the modern law
of nature and nations. As Jouannet stresses, this broad concept of law was especially
important for Vattel and his predecessors, since they developed it in reaction to
Hobbes, who in fact downscaled law to the core of perfect external obligations and
rights.40
In the section below I propose to examine how Vattel put his dualisms to work
when applying his broad concept of law to the all but peaceful relations between the
European states in his own day.

IV.  The Dualisms at Work: The Example of the Law of War

In his philosophical essay Perpetual Peace Kant famously stated that Grotius,
Pufendorf, and Vattel were nothing but ‘sorry comforters’, whose codes could not
have the slightest legal force, because states, as such, are under no common external

39  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preliminaries, § 27, p. 78 (n. 1).

40 Emmanuelle Jouannet, ‘Les dualismes du Droit des gens’, in Vincent Chetail and Peter
Haggenmacher (eds.), Vattel’s International Law in a XXIst Century Perspective, pp. 133–​49, at 143–​5.
 273

Emer de Vattel 273

authority.41 As his critique of the fiction of a civitas maxima shows, it was indeed
unthinkable for Vattel that nations or states would ever get united and subject
them to an external authority. He thus accepted that war was an inevitable fact of
international politics. Counting on the increasing number of ‘wise conductors of
nations’, who would take his teaching seriously,42 he hoped however to contribute
to the restraining of war, firstly, by marking the just bounds of the right of nations
to employ force for the preservation of their rights (jus ad bellum), and, secondly, by
moderating the exercise of that right (jus in bello).43
Vattel’s ambition to contribute by his treatise to restrain war has however been
put into serious doubt by scholars who argue, in line with Carl Schmitt, that the
Law of Nations marks the end of the medieval and early modern just war the-
ory.44 While admitting that Vattel retained some elements of the just war doctrine,
Schmitt takes this to be a ‘hallow topos, a true platitude’, since Vattel would claim
that wars in due form are, in regard of their legal effects, to be considered just on
both sides, without raising any further questions concerning their just cause.45 This
observation of Schmitt’s leads us to have a closer look at the teaching of the volun-
tary law of nations in the domain of war.
While insisting that in times of war states remain obligated to observe the neces-
sary law in their own conduct, Vattel advises them to ‘allow others to avail them-
selves of the voluntary law of nations’ in order to secure the happiness and advantage
of the society of nations.46 In this context, the voluntary law consists of three basic
rules. According to the first, ‘regular war, as to its effects, is to be accounted just on
both sides’. The second rule states that independently of which of the enemies has
justice on his side, ‘whatever is permitted on the one in virtue of the state of war, is
also permitted to the other’.47 This means that jus in bello rules are binding for both
parties in war. Schmitt acknowledges this by stating that this new doctrine greatly
contributed to the humanization of war. According to the third rule, the voluntary
law of nations does not justify the conduct of a nation taking up arms in an unjust
cause, but merely entitles it ‘to the benefit of the external effect of the law, and to
impunity among mankind’.48
The first thing that needs clarification here is the notion of ‘regular war’ or ‘war
in due form’. For Vattel, to be in ‘due form’, a war needs to be made by the right

41  Immanuel Kant, ‘Perpetual Peace. A  Philosophical Sketch’, in Hans Reiss (ed.), H.B. Nisbet
(trans.), Political Writings (1991), p. 104.
42  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preface, pp. 18–​19 (n. 1).
43  For a more detailed account of the law of war see Simone Zurbuchen, ‘Vattel’s Law of Nations and
Just War Theory’, History of European Ideas 35 (2009), 408–​17.
44  See for instance Stefan Hobe, Einführung in das Völkerrecht (9th edn, 2008), pp. 36–​44, and
Wilhelm G. Grewe, The Epochs of International Law, trans. and rev. Michael Byers (2000).
45  Carl Schmitt, The Nomos of the Earth in the International Law of the Jus Publicum Europaeum,
trans. G.L. Ulmen (2003), pp. 165–​7. On Schmitt’s interpretation of Vattel see Isaak Nakhimovsky,
‘Carl Schmitt’s Vattel and the “Law of Nations” between Enlightenment and Revolution’, Grotiana 31,
(2010), 141–​64, at 144–​6.
46  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. XII, § 189, p. 590 (n. 1).
47  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. XII, §§ 190–​1, p. 591, italics omitted (n. 1).
48  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. XII, § 192, p. 592, italics omitted (n. 1).
274

274 Simone Zurbuchen

authority, i.e. by a sovereign state. Moreover, the latter needs to respect certain
formalities. These formalities consist in the demand of just satisfaction, and in the
public declaration of war,49 which must be known to the state against whom it is
made. It also serves for the instruction and direction of its own subjects, and allows
neutral states to identify the enemies.50 However, the crucial element in the declara-
tion of war is the announcement of the reasons for going to war, especially in the
case of an offensive war. In order for a war to count as justified, the sovereign needs
to have a just cause of complaint, a due satisfaction must have been denied to him,
and he ought maturely to have considered whether it be for the advantage of the
state to prosecute his right by the force of arms.51
In light of the importance Vattel attributes to the liberty of states to form their
own judgment on what conscience prescribes them, some scholars contend that by
declaring regular war to be just on both sides Vattel gave carte blanche to sovereigns
pursuing their self-​interested ends by means of force.52 This is however not the
case. While he readily admits that wars are often fought for pretexts, i.e. for reasons
that are just only in appearance or that are absolutely destitute of all foundation, he
insists that ‘pretexts are at least a homage which unjust men pay to justice’:
He who screens himself with them shows that he still retains some sense of shame. He does
not openly trample on what is most sacred in human society: he tacitly acknowledges that a
flagrant injustice merits the indignation of all mankind.53
Besides the link Vattel establishes between the formal declaration and the just cause
of war, there is yet another reason why Schmitt’s interpretation of the voluntary law
of nations goes astray. By contending that regular war needs to be considered just
on both sides ‘as to its effect’, Vattel does not exclude that nations have the right
to succour another nation being the victim of an unjust attack. Indeed, he consid-
ers assistance to a nation unjustly attacked as an obligation incumbent on nations
on the basis of the necessary law of nations. Since this is an imperfect obligation,
sovereigns are at liberty to decide whether they can live up to this obligation in
any concrete case. Vattel insists however that according to the law of nations ‘[i]‌t
is lawful and commendable to succour and assist, by all possible means, a nation
engaged in a just war; and it is even a duty incumbent on every nation, to give such
assistance, when she can give it without injury to herself ’.54 This last remark shows
that according to Vattel, third party observers of a war are by no means obligated to
treat the war of an unjust aggressor as if it were materially justified: quite the con-
trary, they are obligated to take sides with the victim in defence of its perfect rights.

49  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. IV, § 66, p. 507 (n. 1).
50  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. IV, § 55, p. 502 (n. 1).
51  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. IV, § 51, p. 501 (n. 1).
52  R.L. Homes, ‘Can War Be Morally Justified? The Just War Theory’, in Jean Bethke Elshtain
(ed.), Just War Theory (1992), pp. 197–​233; T. J. Hochstrasser, Natural Law Theories in the Early
Enlightenment (2000), p. 181.
53  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. III, § 32, pp. 486–​7 (n. 1).
54  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. VI, § 83, p. 513, italics omitted (n. 1).
 275

Emer de Vattel 275

This example illustrates nicely how Vattel relies on the dualism between the perfect
and imperfect duties on one hand, and between the necessary and the voluntary
law on the other.
To conclude this discussion, let us return to the meaning of the voluntary law of
nations. By stating that the latter accounts for what nations need to tolerate by neces-
sity, Vattel simply points to the fact that the ends of justice and peace cannot be rec-
onciled in a society of free and independent nations. Having established the first rule
of the voluntary law, he declares the latter to be absolutely necessary, if people wish to
set any boundaries to the calamities war produces, ‘and leave a door constantly open
for the return to peace’.55 Would acquisitions made by arms in regular wars not be
considered just on both sides, it would be impossible to bring war to a speedy con-
clusion. In order to secure the society of nations, which are free and independent and
therefore acknowledge no superior judge, the voluntary law ‘tolerates what cannot
be avoided without introducing greater evils’.56 To illustrate the case, Vattel draws an
analogy to civil law, which authorizes a debtor to refuse payment of his debts in a case
of prescription. While the debtor takes advantage of this law, he nevertheless violates
his duty. Just as civil law prevents the endless increase of law suits by prescription,
the voluntary law prevents endless wars by considering regular warfare to be just on
both sides ‘as to its effect’.57 As stated in the third rule, a sovereign who engages in an
unjust war will however not be acquitted in conscience.
What we have so far established concerning the voluntary law of nations is
further confirmed by the distinction Vattel establishes between ‘legitimate and
formal warfare’ on the one hand, and ‘illegitimate and informal wars’ on the
other. The latter are wars undertaken ‘without even an apparent cause’ that ‘can
be productive of no lawful effect, nor give any right to the author of it’. In con-
sequence, a nation attacked by such kinds of enemies—​which are also called
‘enemies of the human race’—​is not ‘under any obligation to observe towards
them the rules prescribed in formal warfare’.58 When dealing with the formali-
ties of regular warfare, Vattel points out that ‘this is at present the constant prac-
tice among the powers of Europe’.59 This helps to explain the severe judgment
he pronounced on the Prussian invasion of Saxony, which marked the beginning
of the Seven Year’s War. The fact that he does not mention this incident in the
Law of Nations is no doubt due to his personal situation. As an employee of the
Elector of Saxony, who was at the same time a citizen of Neuchâtel and a subject
of the Prussian king, he was indeed in a delicate position when he witnessed the
invasion.60

55  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. XII, § 190, p. 591 (n. 1).
56  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. XII, § 192, p. 593 (n. 1).
57  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. XII, § 192, p. 592 (n. 1).
58  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. IV, § 67, pp. 507–​8 (n. 1).
59  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. IV, § 52, p. 501 (n. 1).
60  See Tetsuya Toyoda, Theory and Politics in the Law of Nations: Political Bias in International Law
Discourse of Seven German Court Councilors in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries (2011), p. 164.
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276 Simone Zurbuchen

In a message Vattel addressed to the governor (avoyer) and council of Berne on
28 February 1757,61 he left however no doubt that he considered the invasion of
Saxony to be an illegitimate and informal war. He invokes here a principle rec-
ognized all over the world, according to which a sovereign who believes to have a
cause of complaint always needs to assert his claims before taking up arms. Only
when just satisfaction has been denied to him or when he cannot reasonably hope
to obtain it would he be allowed to go to war. Or at least would he always need to
accept fair conditions that might be offered to him. Since Saxony had disarmed
and was very far from threatening preparation of war, and since the Prussian king
assured it of his friendship and good neighbourhood at the moment preceding the
invasion, the latter was surely illegitimate. In a letter to count Brühl he sent off
around the same time, Vattel pointed out that he would show in his Law of Nations
‘that states must unite themselves to punish the one who wishes to establish such
sinister customs (of war)’.62
Besides warfare aimed at punishing unjust aggressors, there are yet a great number
of peaceful means Vattel recommends for maintaining order and liberty between
sovereign and independent states. Regarding Europe in particular, he mentions the
political balance or equilibrium of power. He introduces this device with the fol-
lowing observation:
Europe forms a political system, an integral body, closely connected by the relations and
different interests of the nations inhabiting this part of the world. It is not, as formerly, a
confused heap of detached pieces, each of which thought herself very little concerned in the
fate of the other, and seldom regarded things which did not immediately concern her. The
continual attention of sovereigns to every occurrence, the constant residence of ministers,
and the perpetual negotiations, make of modern Europe a kind of republic, of which the
members –​each independent, but all linked together by the ties of common interest –​unite
for the maintenance of order and liberty. Hence arose that famous scheme of the political
balance, or the equilibrium of power; by which is understood such a disposition of things, as
that no one potentate be able absolutely to predominate, and prescribe laws to the others.63
The crucial question arising here is how Vattel proposed to interpret the scheme of
the political balance. Many contemporary scholars follow Schmitt, who claimed
that by downplaying just war theory to a ‘hallow topos’, Vattel deprived the law
of nations from is claim to universality and transformed it into the Jus publicum
europaeum, the latter being maintained by the scheme of the political balance. This
interpretation is problematic, since it shoves to one side the idea of a universal
society of nations we have been considering in Section III of this chapter. To recall,
Vattel claims that this society of free and independent nations is instituted by nature
itself and held together by the mutual obligations and rights the latter imposes on
the conscience of nations. Referring to his broad concept of the natural or necessary

61  ‘Lettres de Vattel à l’Avoyer et Consil de Berne (Protestation contre l’invasion de Saxe)’, quoted
by Béguelin, ‘En souvenir de Vattel’, p. 172 (n. 1), and also reprinted in Toyoda, Theory and Politics,
pp. 170–​1 (n. 60).
62  English translation by Toyoda, Theory and Politics, p. 170 (n. 60).
63  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. III, § 47, p. 496 (n. 1).
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Emer de Vattel 277

law of nations, Vattel also speaks of ‘that system of right and justice which ought to
prevail between nations and states’.64 When he deals with the duties of humanity,
i.e. the duties of nations to promote each other’s welfare and perfection, he even
invokes the dream of a universal republic, which would result from the general
observance of these duties. Vattel leaves no doubt that this republic is utopian, since
the private and mistaken interests of nations would forever prevent it to be real-
ized. In contradistinction to this ideal universal republic, Vattel considers modern
Europe from a realistic angle. Hence he qualifies Europe as a ‘political system’ or
‘a kind of republic’ by referring to the common interests, which tie the European
nations together and manifest themselves in practices such as the constant residence
of ministers and perpetual negotiations. He further suggests that within this politi-
cal system specific measures need to be envisaged for maintaining order and liberty.
In this context he introduces the scheme of the equilibrium of power.
It remains to be assessed what function Vattel attributed to the political balance
within the framework of the law of nations. Was it deemed to replace the norma-
tive order imposed on nations by the law of nations as Schmitt suggested, or was
it rather conceived as an additional tool for securing the observance of the law of
nations? If we consider the peaceful means for maintaining the balance such as
alliances or the settlement of disputes by means of arbitration, it seems to be obvi-
ous that Vattel assigned the political balance an auxiliary function. Since he does,
however, not exclude that preventive warfare against an aggrandizing power might
be justified under certain circumstances, we need to further examine whether he
does not thereby introduce an argument conflicting with his theory of the just
causes of war.
This is not easy to establish, since in this context Vattel adopts again the discur-
sive art of judgment Hunter qualified as ‘casuistical’. He first takes it to be ‘a sacred
principle of the law of nations’ that ‘an increase of power cannot, alone and of
itself, give any one a right to take up arms in order to oppose it’, since the end does
not sanctify the means, and since war is only justifiable on grounds of avenging an
injury received or of preserving oneself from an injury one is threatened with.65
He then considers whether a nation has good grounds to think itself threatened by
the increase in power of a neighboring state. To verify this, the nation in question
needs to establish whether the aggrandizement of power is accompanied by the will
of the state to oppress its neighbours. Arguing that power and the inclination to
oppress are ‘generally and frequently united’, Vattel holds it admissible to take ‘the
first appearances’ of the will to oppress ‘for a sufficient indication’, and concludes:
When once a state has given proofs of injustice, rapacity, pride, ambition, or an imperious
thirst of rule, she becomes an object of suspicion to her neighbours, whose duty it is to stand
on their guard against her. They may come upon her at the moment when she is on the point
of acquiring a formidable accession of power, -​may demand securities, -​and, if she hesitates
to give them may prevent her designs by force of arms.66

64  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, Preface, p. 7 (n. 1).

65  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. III, § 43, p. 492 (n. 1).
66  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. III, § 44, p. 492 (n. 1).
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278 Simone Zurbuchen

It certainly comes as no surprise that scholars disagree about the proper meaning of
Vattel’s reasoning. As I argued at more length elsewhere,67 I am of the opinion that
the most plausible reading must account of the link Vattel establishes between his
general doctrine of the just causes of war and the position he defends in regard of
preventive warfare aimed at maintaining the balance of power in Europe. This read-
ing is consistent with Vattel’s recommendation that states ought to seize ‘the first
favourable opportunity […] to weaken a potentate who destroys the equilibrium’
by means of force when this can be done ‘consistently with justice’.68
No sophisticated argument is however needed in case of illegitimate and infor-
mal warfare. Dealing with nations that ‘seem to delight in the ravages of war’ and
spread it on all sides, without reasons or pretexts, Vattel speaks of ‘mischievous’
nations, ‘enemies of the human race’, or of ‘unjust aggressors’.69 He leaves no doubt
that the interest of human society authorizes all the other nations ‘to form a confed-
eracy in order to humble and chastise the delinquents’.70 In his view, ‘[a]‌ll nations
have a right to join in a confederacy for the purpose of punishing and even exter-
minating those savage nations’.71 Vattel takes care to explain that this right does
not contradict his maxim ‘that it does not belong to nations to usurp the power
of being judges of each other’. For the latter would only apply in cases where one
can reasonably doubt whether each of the parties has justice on its side. Only if a
nation, ‘by the whole tenor of her conduct’, proves to be animated by a mischievous
disposition, the safety of the human race requires to repress it.72
The notion ‘enemy of the human race’ and the significance Vattel attributes to
it in the context of international relations has recently found increasing attention
among scholars.73 So far we have seen how Vattel defines this notion in opposition
to wars undertaken for just reasons or at least for pretexts, i.e. to wars formally
declared. However, he also applies this notion to wars waged in an unjust way.74
While in the first case he refers to the jus ad bellum criteria of the just cause, he relies
in the second one on the jus in bello rules he extensively deals with in his treatise,
for instance the discrimination between combatants and non-​combatants, the pro-
hibition of maltreating or killing prisoners of war, or the restraint of assassination

67  Zurbuchen, ‘Vattel’s Law of Nations’, pp. 411–​14 (n. 43).

68  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. III, § 49, p. 498 (emphasis added) (n. 1). Different
interpretations have been proposed, among others, by Walter Rech, Enemies of Mankind: Vattel’s Theory
of Collective Security (2013), p. 148, pp. 172–​3, and by Bruno Arcidiacono, ‘De la balance politique
et de ses rapports avec le droit des gens: Vattel, la “guerre pour l’équilibre” et le système européen’,
in Vincent Chetail and Peter Haggenmacher (eds.), Vattel’s International Law in a XXIst Century
Perspective, pp. 77–​100.
69  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. V, § 70, p. 297, book III, ch. III, §§ 34–​5, p. 487
(n. 1).
70  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. V, § 70, p. 297 (n. 1).
71  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. III, § 34, p. 487 (n. 1).
72  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book II, ch. V, § 70, p. 297 (n. 1).
73 See Silvestrini, ‘Justice, War and Inequality’ (n. 18); Rech, Enemies of Mankind (n. 68);
Nakhimovsky, ‘Carl Schmitt’s Vattel and the “Law of Nations” ’(n. 45); Michel Snellart, ‘La qualifica-
tion de l’ennemi chez Emer de Vattel’, Astérion 2 (2004), 31–​84, <http://​asterion.revues.org/​82>.
74  E. de Vattel, The Law of Nations, book III, ch. VIII, § 155, p. 562, ch. IX, § 167–​8, pp. 570–​2
(n. 1).
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Emer de Vattel 279

and poisoning. He considers the violation of the laws of war to be so serious that
it authorizes the enemy nation to break these laws as well. Measures such as repris-
als and retributions are justified in order to restore the respect due to the laws of
war.75 As Dan Edelstein has observed, the notion ennemi du genre humain had a
specific meaning and a common currency in French, while the English translation
of Vattel’s treatise does not render it uniformly. Edelstein refers in this context to the
publications of Fénélon, Rousseau, and Burlamaqui. He also observes that Wolff
applied the notion totius generi humanis hostis to those brigands who seek for war
as an end in itself.76 One certainly needs to add to this list Pufendorf, who reserved
a prominent place to this notion in his De iure naturae et gentium as well as in the
very popular manual De officio hominis et civis. It is most likely that Pufendorf gave
currency to the expression ennemi du genre humain via the French translations of
his works by Barbeyrac. While Pufendorf used it to designate human individuals
such as pirates, brigands, or murderers, who render themselves guilty by adopting
the violation of the law of nature as the aim of their profession or mode of living,77
Vattel was the first author who showed how this notion could also be applied to
states and be put to work in the international context.
It is not possible to further examine here how Vattel applies the notion ‘enemy
of the human race’ in concrete cases.78 The important thing to be noted is that his
reasoning concerning the preservation of a system of free and independent sov-
ereign states rests on two different sets of rules: the first one concerns ‘civilized’
nations ready to submit to the law of nations in times of peace and of war. This
assures them the status of dignified members of the society of nations and is deemed
to guarantee their liberty and independence. The second set of rules advises these
‘civilized’ nations to punish and subdue ‘barbarian’ nations ever ready to subvert the
law of nations on which the society of nations is deemed to rest. In the relationship
between ‘civilized’ nations and ‘enemies of the human race’ the principle of equal-
ity and hence the reciprocity of rights and obligations does no longer hold. The
distinction between nations of good standing and ‘outlaw’ nations rendered Vattel’s

75  On these questions see Zurbuchen, ‘Vattel’s Law of Nations’, pp. 414–​5 (n. 43); Stephen C. Neff,
‘Vattel and the Laws of War: A Tale of Three Circles’, in Vincent Chetail and Peter Haggenmacher
(eds.), Vattel’s International Law in a XXIst Century Perspective, pp. 317–​34; Christoph Good, Emer de
Vattel (1714-​1767). Naturrechtliche Ansätze einer Menschenrechtsidee und des humanitären Völkerrechts
im Zeitalter der Aufklärung (2011).
76  Dan Edelstein, ‘War on Terror: The Law of Nations from Grotius to the French Revolution’,
French Historical Studies 31 (2008), 229–​62, at 243. See also the contributions by Heller and Fiorillo,
in this volume.
77  Samuel Pufendorf, Le Droit de la Nature et des Gens, ou Système Général des Principes les plus impor-
tans de la Morale, de la Jurisprudence et de la Politique, trans. Jean Barbeyrac, reprint edn Basel 1732
(1987), vol. 2, book VIII, ch. IV, §§ 1–​5, pp. 414–​17; Samuel Pufendorf, Des Devoirs de l’Homme et du
Citoyen, tels qu’ils lui sont precrits par la Loi Naturelle, trans. Jean Barbeyrac, reprint edn London 1741
(Caen, 1984), vol. 2, book II, ch. IV, §§ 1–​6, pp. 142–​5. In addition to Pufendorf, one might also
think of Jean Bodin, who in his Six Books of the Commonwealth (book I, ch. 1) accorded a prominent
place to the notion ‘enemy of mankind’ when he distinguished the well-​ordered commonwealth from
bands of thieves or pirates.
78  See on that issue Silvestrini, ‘Justice, War and Inequality’ (n. 18); Rech, Enemies of Mankind
(n. 68).
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280 Simone Zurbuchen

treatise ambiguous in yet another sense than the dualisms we have been looking at
above. While scholars such as Schmitt and Koselleck saw in the Law of Nations a
major contribution to the humanization of war through the successful exclusion of
natural law morality from the law of nations, others (Edelstein, Bell) contend that
by introducing the notion ‘enemy of the human race’ Vattel made of the observance
of natural law the moral criterion for defining the limits of regular warfare and pre-
pared thereby the justification of the Jacobine regime of terror, and the unleashing
of total war in the period of the French Revolution.79

V.  Vattel’s Legacy

Vattel aimed above all to transform Wolff’s treatise on the law of nations into a
manual of international law for the use of European sovereigns, ministers, and
diplomats. Considering Europe as a kind of republic united for the maintenance of
order and liberty, he gave them advice on a great number of issues such as law of the
territory and the sea, treaty law, the settling of disputes between nations, the law of
diplomatic relations, and the law of war we have briefly been considering here.80
His treatise however gained nowhere more influence than in North America. As
Fenwick stated more than a century ago, Vattel became a lasting authority across
the Atlantic.81 Only recently scholars have more thoroughly investigated the rea-
sons, the scope, and duration of Vattel’s influence in America. As Chetail has shown
in a well-​documented analysis,82 the favourable reception of his treatise by the
American Founding Fathers served as a ‘catalyst’ first for its influence on diplo-
matic and judicial practice and subsequently for the development of legal doctrine.
He convincingly argues that a treatise which ‘resembled a code of conduct […]
proved to be particularly useful for a young nation’,83 since in the book on the
duties of a nation towards itself Vattel also dealt with internal affairs of states and
especially the importance of the constitution as the most secure basis of politi-
cal authority and liberty of the citizens. The prudence and pragmatism as well as
the ambiguity of his reasoning, which recently earned him the rather dismissive

79  For the debate on the interpretation of Vattel’s theory of the ‘enemy of the human race’ see
Nakhimovsky, ‘Carl Schmitt’s Vattel’ (n. 45).
80  The best overview of how Vattel dealt whith what are considered today the essential branches of
international law is provided in Chetail and Haggenmacher (eds.), Vattel’s International Law in a XXIst
Century Perspective (n. 16).
81  Charles G. Fenwick, ‘The Authority of Vattel’, The American Political Science Review 7/​3 (1913),
395–​410.
82 Vincent Chetail, ‘Vattel and the American Dream:  An Inquiry into the Reception of the
Law of Nations in the United States’, in Pierre-​Marie Dupuy and Vincent Chetail (eds.), The Roots
of International Law –​Les fondements du droit international (2014), pp. 251–​300. See also William
Ossipow, Domink Gerber, ‘La réception du droit des gens (1758) d’Emer de Vattel aux Etats-​Unis: résu-
ltats d’une recherche et quelques espériences méthodologiques avec le concept d’autorité textuelle’, in
Yves Sandoz (ed.), Réflexions sur l’impact, le rayonnement et l’actualité du ‘Droit des Gens’ d’Emer de Vattel
à l’occasion du 250e anniversaire de sa parution (2010), pp. 79–​118.
83  Chetail, ‘Vattel and the American Dream’, p. 255 (n. 82)
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Emer de Vattel 281

qualification ‘casuistical’, must have appealed to statesmen who relied more on

common sense than on scholarly arguments in order to defend the position they
held in a given situation. Concerning international affairs, Vattel’s treatment of the
independence of nations and of neutrality was particularly relevant in the American
context. Statistics show that Vattel became the most frequently cited author in the
diplomatic correspondences between the United States and foreign countries up
to the middle of the twentieth century, and his treatise was also frequently cited
by the American courts. What is more, the Law of Nations became a textbook in
American colleges in the late eighteenth century and was subsequently frequently
cited in manuals of constitutional theory. Despite its lasting influence, Vattel’s work
was however not met with unanimous acclaim among American legal scholars.
While some criticized it for lack of philosophical precision, others dismissed it as
codification of the Westphalian state system deemed to be outdated in the twenti-
eth century.
This favourable reception in North America stands in stark contrast with the
criticism he received in Europe. As Chetail points out, Vattel ‘is the only scholar of
international law who has triggered off entire books to condemn and contest his
ideas’.84 To my knowledge, no one has ever tried to establish a list of the manuals
and histories of international law published in Great Britain, France, and Germany
dealing with Vattel’s treatise.85 There is however no doubt that despite all the criti-
cism it earned, the Law of Nations became firmly established as a classic of interna-
tional law since the nineteenth century. The most salient feature of its reception in
the literature on international law is certainly the fact that due to his insistence on
the sovereignty of nations and the conception of the law of nations as a normative
system of duties, obligations, and rights deemed to guarantee a society of free and
independent nations, Vattel was made the ‘prince of positivists’.86
This highly problematic account of Vattel’s treatise, which rests on a misunder-
standing of his theory of the voluntary law of nations, has only been rectified in
the research devoted to it in the context of the renewed interest in the history of
international law since the end of the Cold War.87 Due to the growing number
of historical and philosophical studies taking account of the context in which the
Law of Nations was elaborated and commented upon at the time of the French
Revolution, a much more nuanced account of Vattel’s teaching has been provided.

84  Chetail, ‘Vattel and the American Dream’, p. 252, note, with a list of these books (n. 82).
85  Only little research on the influence of Vattel in countries other than these and the United States
is available. In Réflexions sur l’impact, le rayonnement et l’actualité du ‘Droit des gens’ (n. 29) some papers
deal with Vattel’s reception in Japan, China, and Spain.
86  This expression was coined by Georges Scelle, Manuel de droit international Public (1948), p. 44,
and translated into English be Chetail, ‘Vattel and the American Dream’, p. 299 (n. 82).
87  Much of the recent literature is aimed at re-​interpreting the history of international law and
legal discourse in terms of an ideology legitimizing European colonialism and imperialism. It is how-
ever doubtful whether Vattel’s treatise fits into this counter-​narrative. See on this issue Emmanuelle
Jouannet, ‘Des origines coloniales du droit international:  à propos du droit des gens moderne au
18ème siècle’, in Dupuy and Chetail (eds.), The Roots of International Law, pp. 649–​71 (n. 82);
Simone Zurbuchen, ‘Vattel’s ‘Law of Nations’ and the Principle of Non-​Intervention’, Grotiana 31
(2010), 69–​84.
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282 Simone Zurbuchen

As I attempted to show in this contribution, the dualisms Vattel relied on are at the
origin of the disputes about the ‘true’ meaning of his work. What was lately added
to the dualisms so aptly exposed by Jouannet,88 is the dichotomy between ‘civilised’
and ‘barbarian’ nations. As Daniel Bell observed, this distinction ‘constituted one
of the [eighteenth] century’s most dangerously double-​edged legacies, for if the first
had to be treated with every courtesy, the second […] were left to every horror’.89
It is most likely that this legacy of Vattel will stimulate more fruitful research in the
future than his alleged positivism.

Selected Bibliography
Chetail, Vincent and Haggenmacher, Peter (eds.), Vattel’s International Law in a XXIst
Century Perspective –​Le droit international de Vattel vu du XXIe siècle (Leiden: Brill, 2011).
Dupuy, Pierre-​Marie and Chetail, Vincent (eds.), The Roots of International Law –​Les fonde-
ments du droit international (Leiden: Brill, 2014).
Jouannet, Emmanuelle, Emer de Vattel et l’émergence doctrinale du droit international clas-
sique (Paris: A. Pedone), 1998.
Grotiana 31 (2010): volume devoted to Emer de Vattel.

88  Jouannet, ‘Les dualismes du Droit des gens’ (n. 40).

89  Daniel Bell, The First Total War: Napoleon’s Europe and the Birth of Modern Warfare (2007), p. 49.
 283

14
Towards a System of Sympathetic Law
Envisioning Adam Smith’s Theory of Jurisprudence

Bastian Ronge

Writing on Adam Smith’s account of international law is quite challenging. Smith’s

philosophy of law is based on the concept of sympathy, which is related to social
interactions within small-​scale communities. Hence, his jurisprudence is primarily
concerned with domestic law, and it requires some speculative spirit to examine the
possibility of international law within his framework. In this endeavour, the search
for his concept of law is confronted with considerable difficulties: Smith presum-
ably decided to burn his manuscript shortly before his death.1 Dealing with Smith’s
philosophy of internal law is, therefore, like doing a jigsaw. One has to find and
combine the various pieces which can be found in his published writings as well
as in reports from his lectures on jurisprudence. Hence, a speculative mindset is
required not only with respect to Smithian thinking on international law, but with
respect to his account of law in general. This is probably the reason why so little
research has been undertaken on his philosophy of law in general2—​despite the fact
that, as Smith points out, jurisprudence is the third essential element of his overall
theoretical project.
In this chapter, I take up the challenge to reconstruct Smith’s theory of internal
law and speculate about his idea of an international law based on sympathy. For
obvious reasons, the reconstructing part takes up more room than the speculative

1  The influence of Smith’s legal thought was, therefore, restricted to the students, who listened
to his lectures at the University of Glasgow. See for this question the study ‘Natural Law and Moral
Philosophy: From Grotius to the Scottish Enlightenment’ by Knud Haakonssen. Haakonssen exam-
ines the influence of Smith’s legal thought in the work of Dugald Stewart (Knud Haakonssen, Natural
Law and Moral Philosophy: From Grotius to the Scottish Enlightenment (1996), pp. 226; who was a
student of Smith and a very important figure with regard to the reception of Smith after his death).
2  The exception from the rule is Knud Haakonssen, who published widely on this issue and is,
therefore, the major point of reference in the following. Knud Haakonssen, The Science of a Legislator:
The Natural Jurisprudence of David Hume and Adam Smith (1981); Knud Haakonssen, ‘What Might
Properly Be Called Natural Jurisprudence?’, in Roy Campbell and Andrew Skinner (eds.), The Origins
and Nature of the Scottish Enlightenment (1982), pp. 205–​25; Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral
Philosophy (n. 1); Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy (n. 1); Knud Haakonssen, ‘Hugo
Grotius and the History of Political Thought’, in Knud Haakonssen (ed.), Grotius, Pufendorf and
Modern Natural Law (1999), pp. 35–​61.

Towards a system of sympathetic law: Envisioning Adam Smith’s theory of jurisprudence. Bastian Ronge.
© Bastian Ronge, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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284 Bastian Ronge
part. In detail, the chapter is structured as follows: in Section I, I examine the status
of Smith’s theory of jurisprudence in the context of his works (1), and take a closer
look at his sentimental approach to jurisprudence (2). I then give an account of
Smith’s theory of sympathy (Section II), since it represents the conceptual founda-
tion for his theory of sympathetic law, which is explored in Section III. In Section
IV, I provide the reader with the example of Smith’s sympathetic reformulation of
inheritance law in order to illustrate the general vector of his philosophy of law.
Finally, in Section V, I shift the focus to the issue of international law and examine
the question of how Smith’s idea of sympathetic law might be applied to the level
of international law and which lessons for today could be learned from Smith’s
intriguing philosophy of law.

I.  Adam Smith’s Internal Legal Philosophy

1. Overcoming the ‘Adam Smith problem’: Smith’s unpublished

book on jurisprudence
The ‘Adam Smith problem’ dominated the reception of Adam Smith from the
nineteenth century onwards. For the German economists of the so-​called histori-
cal school, the work of Adam Smith is characterized by a fundamental contradic-
tion: while Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759)3 is based on an optimistic
anthropology and describes human beings as being naturally motivated by the
altruistic passion of sympathy, the Wealth of Nations (1776) presents a pessimis-
tic anthropology, identifying self-​interest to be the main force in human behav-
iour. The founders of the ‘Adam Smith problem’ explain this contradiction with
the so-​called Umschwungtheorie. The explanation reads like this: during his stay
in France (1764–​1766) Adam Smith converted from a moral philosopher of the
age of sensibility to the mastermind of modern economics—​due to his contact
with French economic physiocracy and philosophical materialism.4 It is quite
obvious that this explanation misses any sound foundation, as was pointed out
by German economist August Oncken.5 On the one hand, Adam Smith was
already interested in economic issues before he went to France; as proven by the

3  See, Adam Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759).

4 The Umschwungtheorie was defended by various representatives of the historical school, see
Witold von Skarzynski, Adam Smith als Moralphilosoph und Schoepfer der Nationaloekonomie (1878);
Bruno Hildebrand, Die Nationalökonomie der Gegenwart und Zukunft (1848) and Karl Knies, Die
Politische Ökonomie vom Standpunkt der Geschichtlichen Methode (1833). A far more accurate account
of Smith’s journey to France is provided by Reinhard Blomert, Adam Smiths Reise nach Frankreich
oder die Entstehung der Nationalökonomie (2012). For a full account of Smith’s biography see Nicholas
Philipson, Adam Smith: An Enlightened Life (2010) and the other references in this note.
5  He did this in the essay ‘The Consistency of Adam Smith’ (1897) as well as in the one year later
published article, entitled ‘Das Adam-​Smith-​Problem’ (1898). See August Oncken, ‘The Consistency
of Adam Smith’, in The Economic Journal 7(22) (1897), 443–​50; August Oncken, ‘Das Adam Smith
Problem’, in Zeitschrift für Socialwissenschaft (1898), pp. 25–​33; 101–​8; 276–​87.
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Adam Smith 285

fragments on the division of labour ‘written in the 1760s’6 and the text known as
‘An Early Draft of Part of The Wealth of Nations’ from 1762.7 On the other hand,
he decided to publish several other editions of his ‘Theory of Moral Sentiments’
after he returned from France without any considerable changes with regards to the
key concept of sympathy.
Even though the Umschwungtheorie was rejected, the existence of the so-​called
‘Adam Smith problem’ itself was not disputed. The Adam Smith problem survived
as a problem and the search for its solution kept Smith scholars busy until now.8
Its long lasting success is quite astonishing since its two key assumptions cannot be
sustained through any serious reading of the text material. Neither is the Theory of
Moral Sentiments based on an optimistic anthropology, since our natural inclina-
tion to sympathize with other human beings is not restricted to altruistic passions,
nor is the ‘stupendous palace’ of the Wealth of Nations ‘erected upon the granite of
self-​interest’.9 In fact, the notion of self-​interest does appear only once in the whole
book, namely in a footnote about the financing strategy of the Roman Catholic
Church.10 Therefore, the well-​known Smith scholars David Raphael and Alexander
Macfie are absolutely right when they describe the ‘so-​called Adam Smith problem’
as a ‘pseudo-​problem based on ignorance and misunderstanding’.11
A careful reading of the Advertisement which Adam Smith wrote for the sixth and
last edition of the Theory of Moral Sentiments (1790) already suffices to realize that,
for Smith himself, the Theory of Moral Sentiments and the Wealth of Nations were
two equivalent elements of his theoretical project and were meant to be comple-
mented by a third element, namely a theory of jurisprudence.
In the Advertisement, Smith draws the reader’s attention to the fact that he had
originally planned to continue his Theory of Moral Sentiments with ‘an account
of the general principles of law and government, and of the different revolutions
they have undergone in the different ages and periods of society, not only in what

6  Adam Smith, ‘Lectures on Jurisprudence. Report dated 1766’ in Ronald Meek, David Daiches
Raphael, and Peter Stein (eds.), Adam Smith: Lectures on Jurisprudence (1978), p. 561.
7 For the problem of dating these documents see Ronald Meek and Andrew Skinner, ‘The
Development of Adam Smith’s Ideas on the Division of Labour’, in The Economic Journal 83(332)
(1973), 1094–​116.
8  For a comprehensive overview over the history of the Adam Smith see Martin Patzen, ‘Zur
Diskussion des Adam Smith Problems—​ein Überblick’, in Peter Ulrich and Arnold Meyer-​Faje (eds.),
Der andere Adam Smith: Beiträge zur Neubestimmung von Ökonomie als politischer Ökonomie (1991),
pp. 21–​54.
9  George Stigler, ‘Smith’s Travels on the Ship of State’, in History of Political Economy 3(2) (1971),
265–​77.
10  ‘In the church of Rome, the industry and zeal of the inferior clergy is kept more alive by the pow-
erful motive of self-​interest, than perhaps in any established protestant church. The parochial clergy
derive, many of them, a very considerable part of their subsistence from the voluntary oblations of the
people; a source of revenue which confession gives them many opportunities of improving.’ Adam
Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, eds. Roy Campbell and Andrew
Skinner (1979), pp. 789f.
11  David D. Raphael and Alexander L. Macfie, ‘Introduction’, in The Theory of Moral Sentiments,
written by Adam Smith (1976), pp. 1–​52.
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286 Bastian Ronge
concerns justice, but in what concerns police, revenue, and arms’ (TMS, 342). He
was not able, Smith confesses, to work out this plan in full.
In the Enquiry concerning the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, I have partly exe-
cuted this promise; at least so far as concerns police, revenue, and arms. What remains, the
theory of Jurisprudence, which I have long projected, I have hitherto been hindered from
executing, by the same occupations12 which had till now prevented me from revising the
present work. Though my very advanced age leaves me, I acknowledge, very little expecta-
tion of ever being able to execute this great work to my own satisfaction […]. (TMS, 3)
This passage makes three things very clear: first of all it shows that Smith himself
‘regards WN as continuing the sequence of thought set out in TMS’13, i.e. that he
did not see any contradiction between his two main works.14 Secondly, the passage
hints at the fact that Smith’s overall project was intended to include not just two,
but three elements—​the Theory of Moral Sentiments, the Wealth of Nations and,
last but not least, a ‘theory of Jurisprudence’ (TMS, 3). And thirdly, the passage
reveals that the tripartite structure of his overall project is so important to Smith
that he explicitly reminds the reader on his unwritten ‘great work’ on jurispru-
dence; instead of crossing out the promising passage while editing the last edition
of his Theory of Moral Sentiments. Against this background, it becomes clear that
an adequate picture of Adam Smith’s philosophy has to include his projected book
on natural jurisprudence. But how should one deal with a book that does not exist
(anymore)?15
First of all, there are various reflections on law and jurisprudence within Smith’s
published works, namely the Theory of Moral Sentiments and the Wealth of Nations.
Furthermore, there are notes taken by students of his Lectures on Jurisprudence,

12  ‘From 1778 onwards Smith worked as commissioner of customs, which was quite a time-​con-
suming activity. The office of Commissioner of Customs may have been well-​paid and honourable but
it was no sinecure. By Smith’s day, there were 800 separate acts of parliament affecting customs duties to
superintend, endless adjudications to attend to, and an entire revenue service to supervise. The Board
met four days a week throughout the year, breaking only for public holidays and, as Smith commented,
“it was all too likely that the remaining three days would be interrupted by Board business”’. Phillipson,
An Enlightened Life, p. 257 (n. 4).
13  Raphael and Macfie, ‘Introduction’ (n. 11).
14  ‘Smith himself provides the best evidence against any ideal that there is a conflict between his
two works. In the Advertisement to edition 6 of the Theory of Moral Sentiments, he refers to the final
paragraph of the book, which promises another one on law and government, and says that he has
‘partly executed this promise’ in WN. Clearly therefore he regards WN as continuing the sequence of
thought set out in TMS’; see Raphael and Macfie, ‘Introduction’ (n. 11). One could argue, that ‘the real
Adam Smith Problem’ (James R. Otteson, ‘The Recurring Adam Smith Problem’, History of Philosophy
Quarterly 17 (2000), 51–​74) remains unsolved, since it is still not clear, how selfishness and altruism
fit together. But this problem has nothing to do with Adam Smith and should, therefore, not be posed
with reference to his name and work.
15  Shortly before his death, Adam Smith requested his close friends Joseph Black and James Hutton
to burn all his unfinished manuscripts with the exception of a few essays, which were posthumously
published under the title ‘essays on philosophical subjects’ (see John Rae, Life of Adam Smith (1965)
[1895], p. 434; Walther Eckstein, ‘Einleitung des Herausgebers’, in Theorie der ethischen Gefühle, writ-
ten by Adam Smith (2004) [1925], pp. XI–​LXXXIV). There are reasons to assume, that his manuscript
on natural jurisprudence has been amongst the burned manuscripts as well (see Bastian Ronge, Das
Adam-​Smith-​Projekt: Zur Genealogie der liberalen Gouvernementalität (2015), pp. 401–​5).
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Adam Smith 287

which Smith gave as a Professor for Moral Philosophy at the University of Glasgow.
Theses notes, published as ‘Lectures on Jurisprudence’ within the Glasgow Edition
of the Works and Correspondence of Adam Smith, together with the shattered
remarks in Theory of Moral Sentiments and the Wealth of Nations provide us with
enough material to reconstruct Adam Smith’s philosophy of jurisprudence. Or, to
be more precise: any reconstruction of Smith’s philosophy of law remains a matter
of speculation, where some parts are more and some parts are less speculative.

2. Adam Smith’s sentimental approach to jurisprudence: Sympathetic

natural jurisprudence
According to Smith, human beings are essentially social beings. This means, amongst
other things, that ‘[a]‌ll the members of human society stand in need of each others
assistance’ (TMS, 85). This holds true in particular for commercial societies, in which
the division of labour has arrived at such a high level that every member ‘stands at all
times in need of the cooperation and assistance of great multitudes, while his whole
life is scarce sufficient to gain the friendship of a few persons’.16 This dependency on
others would constitute an existential threat if benevolence was the only thing to count
on. If the satisfaction of our needs depended entirely on the benevolence of our fellow
citizen, living in a commercial society would be a foolish, incalculable risk. Fortunately,
there is another, very reliable way of making our fellow citizens giving us what we need.
We do not address their benevolence, but their self-​love. We do not need to beg like a
dog in order to get our meal, but rather make an offer which the other cannot reject.
Man […] works on the self-​love of his fellows, by setting before them a sufficient tempta-
tion to get what he wants; the language of this disposition is, give me what I want, and you
shall have what you want. It is not from benevolence, as the dogs, but from self-​love that
man expects any thing. The brewer and the baker serve us not from benevolence but from
self-​love.17
The irresistible power of self-​love is the foundation upon which the division of
labour in modern merchant societies is based. Thanks to the natural inclination to
satisfy one’s own desire, social cooperation can be secured and encouraged.
Smith takes the society ‘among different merchants’ (TMS, 86) as an example
for illustrating social cohesion that is solely based on the ‘sense of its utility’ (TMS,
86). Within this particular social group, no one is interested in the good luck or
happiness of the other. Despite this fact, they are able to cooperate with one another
and uphold their ‘mercenary exchange of good offices’ (TMS, 86). However, Smith
leaves no doubt about the fact that this form of societal association is ‘less happy and
agreeable’ (TMS, 86) than social forms in which the ‘necessary assistance is recipro-
cally afforded from love, from gratitude, from friendship, and esteem’ (TMS, 85).18

16 Smith, Wealth of Nations, p. 26 (n. 10).

17 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 493 (n. 6).
18  This remarks shows, that Smith would be critical about the process of ‘marketization’, since it
implies the enlargement of utility based social connections and the replacement of alternative, nor-
mative better forms of social cohesion.
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288 Bastian Ronge
In other words: societies in which the social coherence is only created and main-
tained by mutual utility expectations are less preferable than societies in which the
social band is founded on mutual recognition. Both forms of society, however, have
to maintain justice—​since justice is the main foundation of every society. ‘Justice
[…] is the main pillar that upholds the whole edifice. If it is removed, the great,
the immense fabric of human society […] must in a moment crumble into atoms.’
(TMS, 86)
Even the societal connection between ‘robbers and murderers’ (TMS, 86) would
fall apart if they suffered injustices from one another.
The moment that injury begins, the moment that mutual resentment and animosity take
place, all the bands of it are broke asunder, and the different members of which it con-
sisted are, as it were, dissipated and scattered abroad by the violence and opposition of their
discordant affections. If there is any society among robbers and murderers, they must at
least, according to the trite observation, abstain from robbing and murdering one another.
(TMS, 86)
But what is justice? Like his friend David Hume, Adam Smith regards justice as a
negative virtue, which means that the essence of justice is omission. Acting fair and
just means avoiding actions that are unfair and unjust; and whether an action is fair
or unfair is quite easy to identify. We just have to know the law. Laws express the
rights of man, i.e. inform us about the ways in which we harm other people’s rights.
In Smith’s moral philosophy, the virtue of justice attains a special status.19
Normally, virtuous behaviour is guided by sympathetic interaction, so that our con-
duct is ‘directed by a certain idea of propriety, by a certain taste for a particular tenor
of conduct’ (TMS, 175f.) (I will discuss this in more detail below). The virtue of
justice, however, can be performed by adhering with ‘the most obstinate steadfast-
ness to the general rules’ (TMS, 175) of justice. While the general rules of justice
can be declared in the form of strict and unmistakable propositions, the ethical
knowledge about all other virtues can be conveyed only through ‘agreeable and
lively pictures of manners’ (TMS, 329).20
The rules of justice may be compared to the rules of grammar; the rules of the other virtues,
to the rules which critics lay down for the attainment of what is sublime and elegant in com-
position. The one, are precise, accurate, and indispensable. The other, are loose, vague, and

19  Smith as well as Hume were fascinated by the ‘special status’ of justice. ‘Justice was something of
an enigma to both Hume and Smith. […] The thing which struck them was that justice is so different
from all other virtues. It seemed to be more precise and it could therefore be formulated in strict and
general rules.’ Haakonssen, The Science of a Legislator, pp. 83–​7 (n. 2). For a more detailed account, see
Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy, pp. 132f. (n. 1).
20  ‘By the vivacity of their descriptions they inflame our natural love of virtue, and increase our
abhorrence of vice: by the justness as well as delicacy of their observations they may often help both to
correct and to ascertain our natural sentiments with regard to the propriety of conduct, and suggesting
many nice and delicate attentions, form us to a more exact justness of behaviour, than what, without
such instruction, we should have been apt to think of.’ Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 329 (n. 3).
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Adam Smith 289
indeterminate, and present us rather with a general idea of the perfection we ought to aim at,
than afford us any certain and infallible directions for acquiring it. (TMS, 175)
With this, it is possible to define the task of jurisprudence. Jurisprudence has to set the
grammar of justice: it has to establish a system of positive laws which enables the people
to behave just and fair, while the science ‘properly called Ethics’ has to create ‘agreeable
and lively pictures of manners’ (TMS, 329) in order to give people an understanding
of brave, prudent, and benevolent etc. behaviour.
According to Smith, the science of jurisprudence is an inductive one.
Jurisprudence is not about deducing laws from abstract legal principles. On the
contrary, a system of positive laws has to reflect the ways in which people actually
judge other people’s behaviour. The moral sentiments of real world people about real
world moral behaviour is, according to Smith, the material foundation of every
system of positive law. And since humankind is still in the process of moral and
sentimental refinement, all hitherto established systems of positive law have fallen
short of our ideal ‘natural sentiments of justice’ (TMS, 341).
Every system of positive law may be regarded as a more or less imperfect attempt towards a
system of natural jurisprudence, or towards an enumeration of the particular rules of justice.
(TMS, 340)
These legal shortcomings for the most part stem from the imperfection of man-
kind’s emotional sensibility. As long as the sensibility of human beings is not fully
developed, their moral sentiments will be rude and barbarous, and thus their cor-
responding moral judgment will be rude and barbarous as well.
In some countries, the rudeness and barbarism of the people hinder the natural sentiments of jus-
tice from arriving at that accuracy and precision which, in more civilized nations, they naturally
attain to. Their laws are, like their manners, gross and rude and undistinguishing. (TMS, 341)
In the eighteenth century, however, being the age of sensibility, the emotional sen-
sibility of (European) mankind has reached such a high degree of refinement that
the laws could be in accordance with our natural sentiments of justice. The fact that
they are still not has political or even institutional reasons.
Sometimes what is called the constitution of the state, that is, the interest of the government;
sometimes the interest of particular orders of men who tyrannize the government, warp the
positive laws of the country from what natural justice would prescribe. […] In other coun-
tries the unfortunate constitution of their courts of judicature hinders any regular system of
jurisprudence from ever establishing itself among them, though the improved manners of
the people may be such as would admit of the most accurate. (TMS, 341)
To sum up: according to Smith, there has never existed a single system of posi-
tive law in which the ‘decisions of positive law coincide exactly, in every case,
with the rule which the natural sense of justice would dictate’ (TMS, 341).21

21  ‘Systems of positive law, therefore, though they deserve the greatest authority, as the records of
the sentiments of mankind in different ages and nations yet can never be regarded as accurate systems
of the rules of natural justice.’ Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 341 (n. 3).
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290 Bastian Ronge
Against this background, the ambitious goal of Adam Smith’s ‘great work’ on
Natural Jurisprudence becomes apparent: his projected but never realized book
would have been the attempt to lay down a system of positive laws in which the
laws are—​for the first time in history—​in correspondence with mankind’s natural
sentiments of justice. Just like in the Wealth of Nations, where he tried to establish a
natural system of economy, Smith would now have tried to create a natural system
of jurisprudence. And just like in the Theory of Moral Sentiments, where he formu-
lates the ideal of sensitive stoicism as the adequate realization of Stoicism in the age
of sensibility, Smith would now have tried to adjust the tradition of natural law
to the eighteenth-​century state of emotional sensibility.22 Before we take a closer
look at this astonishing project, however, it is necessary to recall Smith’s theory
of sympathy, since it provides the basic foundation for his project of sympathetic
natural jurisprudence.

II.  Theory of Sympathy:

The Conceptual Framework

Smith’s overall goal in the Theory of Moral Sentiments is to describe and explain
why human beings make the particular moral judgment they make. Why do we
consider one behaviour as appropriate and the other as inappropriate? Why do we
judge a behaviour as virtuous or vicious? What are the differences between judging
our own behaviour and judging other people’s behaviour? These are the main ques-
tions Adam Smith attempts to answer throughout the Theory of Moral Sentiments by
developing a complex and intriguing theory of sympathy. Sympathy is, therefore,
the key concept of the Theory of Moral Sentiments. Unfortunately, it is not very well
defined. One could say, however, that the concept of sympathy plays a key role in
the three following contexts: it describes (1) our natural capability to feel with other
human beings; furthermore, the notion depicts (2) emotional harmony between
persons who are in different emotional states; and last not but least (3), sympathy is
the reason for moral approbation.
1. Sympathy refers to our natural capability of slipping into the shoes of other
people and imitating their feelings. Right in the beginning of the Theory of Moral
Sentiments, Smith states:

22  According to Smith, Hugo Grotius is the one who came closest to such a system of natural
jurisprudence. In his Lectures on Jurisprudence, he states: ‘Grotius seems to have been the first who
attempted to give the world any thing like a regular system of natural jurisprudence, and his treatise
on the laws of war and peace, with all its imperfections, is perhaps at this day the most complete work
on this subject.’ See Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 397 (n. 6); see also Smith, Theory of Moral
Sentiments, pp. 341f. (n. 3). Haakonssen argues that Smith grants Grotius that special status because
he sees him as the one who secularized natural law for the first time. See Haakonssen, Natural Law and
Moral Philosophy, p. 136 (n. 1); Haakonssen, Grotius, p. 47 (n. 2). I would argue, on the other hand,
that Grotius privileged position derives from the fact that Smith regards him as the first one who tried
to develop an emotional account of natural law, since he introduces the figure of the equitable civil
magistrate, i.e. an impartial spectator, to set up the norms of international law. However, this thesis
requires further research.
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Adam Smith 291
How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature,
which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him,
though he derives nothing from it except the pleasure of seeing it. Of this kind is pity or
compassion, the emotion which we feel for the misery of others, when we either see it, or are
made to conceive it in a very lively manner. (TMS, 9)
This passage has a long history of misinterpretation. The discoverers of the so-​
called ‘Adam Smith problem’ took it to prove their claim that the Theory of Moral
Sentiments is grounded on an altruistic anthropology and thus stands in stark con-
trast with the Wealth of Nations. This reading, however, overlooks the circumstance
that Smith in this passage refers to the altruistic feelings of pity or compassion
merely as examples for sympathetic feelings (‘Of this kind’). Indeed, the range of
sympathetic feelings is much broader and encompasses all kind of emotions: Fellow
joy, fellow pain, fellow shame are as sympathetic as are pity or compassion. Smith is
quite clear about this. Just a few sentences after the passage quoted above, he writes:
Pity and compassion are words appropriated to signify our fellow–​feeling with the sorrow of
others. Sympathy, though its meaning was, perhaps, originally the same, may now, however,
without much impropriety, be made use of to denote our fellow–​feeling with any passion
whatever. (TMS, 10)
In other words: sympathy denotes our natural capability of imitating all kinds of
original feelings our fellow men may experience. According to Smith, every human
has this capability. Even the ‘greatest ruffian’ and the ‘most hardened violator of the
laws of society’ (TMS, 9) are not bare of it—​although their capability is limited
in comparison with that of more sentimental beings, which have cultivated their
sympathizing power by cultural techniques like reading sentimental novels, visiting
the theatre, or writing sentimental letters.23
2. The notion of sympathize also refers to the emotional harmony between two per-
sons, namely a ‘spectator’ (SP) and a ‘person principally concerned’ (PPC). Hence,
sympathy—​in the sense of emotional correspondence—​can only occur in emotion-
ally asymmetric situations, where one subject is emotionally affected by an external
impact (the ‘person principally concerned’), while the other one is in the state of
emotional indifference (the ‘spectator’). This emotional asymmetry poses a great
challenge. In order to overcome the asymmetry and realize sympathetic harmony,
both subjects have to work hard. The spectator, on the one side, has to embrace all
his imaginative powers in order ‘to put himself in the situation of the other, and to
bring home to himself every little circumstance of distress which can possibly occur
to the sufferer’ (TMS, 21).

He must adopt the whole case of his companion with all its minutest incidents; and strive to
render as perfect as possible, that imaginary change of situation upon which his sympathy
is founded. (TMS, 21)

23  Smith does not refer explicitly to theses cultural techniques. There is, however, indirect evidence
that Smith was aware of the educational effect of these sentimental practices, see Ronge, Adam-​Smith-​
Projekt, pp. 232–​6 (n. 15). He stands in contrast to Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, who is well known for his
scepticism against the theatre as well as the emotion of pity as a moral force.
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292 Bastian Ronge
The person principally concerned, one the other side, has to reduce his ‘original pas-
sions’ (TMS, 16) to that ‘pitch, in which the spectators are capable of going along
with him’ (TMS, 22). He mitigates his feelings in the same way as the spectator
embraces his, namely by slipping into the shoes of his counterpart and copying the
feeling the other one feels.24
To sum up: the spectator copies the original passion of the person principally
concerned and creates sympathetic fellow feelings, which are then copied by the
person principally concerned in order to reduce his original passions to the affec-
tive level which the spectator can go along with. Through this circular interaction
(which is, by the way, clearly reminiscent of the natural price mechanism described
in Wealth of Nations), sympathy can be achieved.
3. The state of sympathy (as emotional harmony) evokes a particular feeling, both
in the spectator as well as in the person principally concerned, which Smith calls
‘sentiment of approbation’ (TMS, 46). With this, we touch upon the overall goal
of Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments, namely to describe and explain our practices
of making moral judgments. Sympathetic harmony, according to Smith, implies
moral approbation. If we—​as the spectator—​have the same feeling like the per-
son principally concerned, we will consider his behaviour as appropriate. If there
is no sympathy, on the other hand, we will deem his behaviour as exaggerated and
inappropriate.
According to Smith, this ‘direct sympathy’ between the spectator and the person
principally concerned is the first and foundational layer of our moral judgments.
Every moral judgment contains an evaluation of the appropriateness or inappropri-
ateness of the action in question; but some moral judgments require more, some-
thing like a second layer. This is the case where our moral judgment is not only
about the appropriateness or inappropriateness of an action, but also about its vir-
tuousness or vice. In this case, we enter a situation of ‘indirect sympathy’, which
does not involve just two, but three persons: the spectator (SP), the person princi-
pally concerned (PPC), and the person principally acting25 (PPA), who performs an
action that is perceived by PPC as beneficial or harmful to him. It is utterly impor-
tant to understand this rather complicated model of indirect sympathy because it
provides the key conceptual framework for Smith’s theory of jurisprudence.
Let us take an example to illustrate the case of indirect sympathy: PPA performs
an action, which is perceived as harmful by PPC. Hence, PPC feels anger and

24  ‘In order to produce this concord, as nature teaches the spectators to assume the circumstances
of the person principally concerned, so she teaches this last in some measure to assume those of the
spectators. […] As their sympathy makes them look at it, in some measure, with his eyes, so his sym-
pathy makes him look at it, in some measure, with theirs, especially when in their presence and acting
under their observation: and as the reflected passion, which he thus conceives, is much weaker than the
original one, it necessarily abates the violence of what he felt before he came into their presence […].’
Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 22 (n. 3).
25  While Smith uses the notion ‘person principally concerned’ almost like a technical term, he does
not provide any notion for describing the person to whom the person principally concerned reacts. I
suggest to call this third party the ‘person principally acting’.
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Adam Smith 293

resentment against PPA and wants to harm him. If the impartial spectator (directly)
sympathizes with PPC, i.e. if he successfully imitates his feeling of resentment, he
will evaluate PPA’s behaviour as vicious. But this direct sympathy between SP and
PPC can only occur if the earlier sympathetic interaction between SP and PPA
has failed. The spectator has to assess PPA’s behaviour as inappropriate in order to
evaluate PPC’s emotional reaction to PPA as appropriate. If the spectator did not
disagree with PPA’s behaviour, he will not agree with PPC’s reaction towards it. To
put it in more abstract terms: moral judgments about the virtue or vice of actions
involve not just one layer (sympathetic interaction with the PPC) but a second layer
as well—​namely the sympathetic interaction with the PPA. The crucial point is that
the second layer works like the first layer, just with another person. The situation of
indirect sympathy is nothing but the addition of two situation of direct sympathy
(first with the PPA, then with the PPC).
With this, we can proceed to consider the centrepiece of Smith’s philosophy of
law, namely his theory about the sympathetic foundation of rights.

III.  The Centrepiece of Smith’s Philosophy of Law: The

Sympathetic Foundation of Rights

Representatives of classical natural law usually start their theoretical reflection

by examining the natural rights which human beings have qua being human.
Afterwards, they proceed to study the acquired rights, namely the rights which
human beings obtain as a member of society. But there is also another way of deal-
ing with rights, represented by the ‘civilians’.
The civilians begin with considering government and then treat of property and other rights.
Others26 who have written on this subject begin with the latter and then consider family and
civil government. There are several advantages peculiar to each of these methods, tho’ that of
the civil law seems upon the whole preferable.27
The reason why Smith prefers the civilian method is simple: for Smith—​as for the
most representatives of the Scottish Enlightenment—​human beings are essentially

26  ‘Others’ refers to the classical representatives of natural law, as Haakonssen points out:  ‘The
“others” to whom Smith referred were the generality of natural law thinkers in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, to whose method he was introduced when a student of Francis Hutchesons’ at
Glasgow University. These writers divided natural law into three principal parts. The first dealt with the
individual in abstraction from social groups; the second dealt with the individual as a member of the
family group (often called “oeconomical jurisprudence”–​that is, “household jurisprudence”); and the
third dealt with the individual as a member of civil society (sometimes called “political jurisprudence”).
To these topics was normally added the jurisprudence of the international community, the “law of
nations”.’ Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy, p. 130 (n. 1).
27 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 401 (n. 6). Again Haakonssen: ‘At first it is puzzling that
Smith should suggest that the “civilians” put political jurisprudence, or “government”, first. Plainly,
no writer on the civil law, by which Smith meant corpus iuris civilis, began with a discussion of the
principles of political governance […]. What Smith must have meant—​and, one may hope, explained
to his students—​was that the civil law always presupposed the existence of political society, civitas, as a
precondition for the law of the civitas.’ Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy, p. 130 (n. 1).
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294 Bastian Ronge
social beings who live always and already within societal forms.28 Society is nothing
that has to be invented or constituted; society is always and already there. Starting
‘with the individual in abstraction from social groups,’29 as classical natural law
does, is not very plausible to Smith.
Despite these general reservations against the method of classical natural law,
Smith adopts its distinction between natural and acquired rights. For Smith, how-
ever, this does not represent a distinction in terms of origin (nature vs. society),
but in terms of explanatory efforts. Even natural rights, he believes—​like men’s
right over bodily integrity and intact reputation—​are ‘not pre-​social moral equip-
ment but part of living socially’;30 they are socially acquired. The crucial difference
between rights called natural and acquired rights consists in the fact that the for-
mer are part of every society whereas the latter emerge only by way of socio-​his-
toric progress. While the ‘origin of natural rights is quite evident’, socio-​historically
‘acquired rights such as property require more explanation’.31 To be more concrete:
in the case of natural rights, the theorist only has to describe and explain their vari-
ous formulations in time; in case of acquired rights, however, he has to tackle the
question why these rights came into existence in the first place. In other words:
Jurisprudence has to, therefore, come up with historical, sociological, and economi-
cal explanations.32
Smith’s use of the distinction between natural and acquired rights should not
make us lose sight of the fact that, for him, all rights—​no matter, whether they are
called ‘natural’ or ‘acquired’—​have one and the same origin, namely the indirect
sympathy of the spectator. This is the key idea of Smith’s philosophy of law, and he
uses John Locke’s example of acquiring an apple to illustrate it.
How it is that a man by pulling an apple should be imagined to have a right to that apple and
a power of excluding all others from it—​and that an injury should be conceived to be done
when such a subject is taken for the possessor. From the system I have already explain’d33,
you will remember that I told you we may conceive any injury was done one when an impar-
tial spectator would be of opinion he was injured, would join with him in his concern and go

28  This Aristotelian view on the social nature of man becomes most apparent in the critique of
Hobbes’ contract theory, which can be found in Smith (Lectures on Jurisprudence, pp. 316f. (n. 6)) as
well as in (Hume Knud Haakonssen (ed.), Hume, Political Essays (1994), pp. 186–​201).
29 Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy, p. 130 (n. 1).
30 Haakonssen, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy, p. 134 (n. 1).
31 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 401 (n. 6).
32  See also Knud Haakonssen’s remark on Smith’s use of the distinction: ‘Smith never makes it abso-
lutely clear what is the basis for this distinction, but the little he does say makes it possible to find an
explanation […]. The thing he stresses is that natural rights are quite evident in their content and need
no lengthy analysis: what constitutes an injury to a man’s person or reputation is immediately ‘evident
to reason’. But acquired rights need much more explanation. This is simply because they are—​required.
They depend for their very existence, or their effective recognition, on some element of governmental
authority in a society, and since the latter varies enormously from one epoch to another and from one
country to another, so the rights must also vary, and consequently they can only be understood against
the background of these circumstantial factors’, see Haakonssen, The Science of a Legislator, pp. 100f.
(n. 2).
33  Smith here refers to the ‘system of ethics of the Theory of Moral Sentiments, which Smith had no
doubt explained earlier in the course.’ See Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 17, n. 16 (n. 6).
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Adam Smith 295
along with him when he defended the subject in his possession against any violent attack, or
used force to recover what had been thus wrongfully wrested out of his hands.34
While Locke deduces the (acquired) property right over the apple from the (natural)
right over one’s own body, Smith’s theory of (indirect) sympathy allows him to see
the entitlement of private property in a new light. The property right over the apple
derives from the fellow resentment spectators would feel with the person principally
concerned if someone would take away the apple from him. Let us imagine person
A picks a few apples from a tree and starts eating them. Now person B comes along
and takes away an apple from A. A gets angry and wants to punish B for impinging
on his property right. From Smith’s point of view, the question whether A’s claim
is justified depends on the question whether there is sympathy between A and the
impartial spectator of the scene or not. Only if the spectator sympathizes with the
emotional reaction (i.e. the moral judgment) of A, he will acknowledge his claim
and his right of ownership with regards to the apple.35 To put it in another way: for
Smith, all legal rights are retroactively constituted. Only after the person principally
acting (PPA) has done something to the person principally concerned (PPC), to
which he reacts with resentment and the wish to punish PPA, and after the specta-
tors have disagreed with PPA’s behaviour and successfully sympathized with PPC,
PPC’s claim and right is recognized and established. This sympathetic recognition
of PPC’s resentment, the common longing for punishment of the offender, is the
original source of every endorsement—​no matter whether it is called natural or
acquired.36 Hence, resentment, ‘commonly regarded as so odious a passion’ (TMS,
76), is not at all a threat to society but—​on the contrary—​an important guarantee
of its continued existence.
Resentment seems to have been given us by nature for defence, and for defence only. It is
the safeguard of justice and the security of innocence. It prompts us to beat off the mischief
which is attempted to be done to us, and to retaliate that which is already done; that the
offender may be made to repent of his injustice, and that others, through fear of the like
punishment, may be terrified from being guilty of the like offence. (TMS, 79)
The ‘most odious, perhaps, of all the passions’ (TMS, 76) secures the administra-
tion of justice before its institutionalized and official administration through judges
and arbiters. Furthermore, the official and institutionalized jurisdiction has to stay

34 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 493 (n. 6).

35  Interestingly enough, Smith seems to discover in the context of legal philosophy what economists
in the nineteenth century will call diminishing marginal utility, i.e. the fact that the value of a particular
good depends on the question how much of the same good has been already consumed. The same idea
can be found here: if the person principally acting takes away the only apple from the person principally
concerned, the spectator will much more easily sympathize with the resentment of the person princi-
pally concerned than if he ‘steals’ the thousand-​and-​first apple.
36  Haakonssen comments on this in the following way:  ‘The object of natural Jurisprudence is
justice; and the rules of justice define our rights by laying down what actions constitute injuries against
us. The concept of ‘injury’ is understood in pure spectator-​terms: what the relevant, actual spectators—​
such as judges and juries—​in a given society recognize as injury is in legal terms injury in that society
at that time and is definitive of its rights and laws.’ See Haakonssen, The Science of a Legislator, p. 100
(n. 2).
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296 Bastian Ronge
in touch with the real practices of moral judgment, performed by everyday spectators.
The legal system has to be mirror of the moral judgments prevalent in society.37
With his account of the sympathetic origin of all rights, Smith provides an alter-
native to utility-​based conceptualizations of rights; as presented e.g. by his friend
David Hume. Indeed, Smith admits that sometimes ‘we both punish and approve
of punishment merely from a view to the general interest of society’ (TMS, 90).
Nonetheless, the first and original source of claiming and defending rights is ‘the
sympathetic resentment of the spectator’ (TMS, 78).
It is to be observed that our first approbation of punishment is not founded upon the regard
to public utility which is commonly taken to be the foundation of it. It is our sympathy with
the resentment of the sufferer which is the real principle.38
In the next part, I want to draw on Smith’s thought about the inheritance law,
since it is the best example to illustrate the general direction of Smith’s sympathetic
account of justice and law.

IV.  Rewriting the Systems of Positive Law: The Example

of Inheritance Law

The theory of the sympathetic foundation of rights is the key idea of Smith’s
sentimental approach to jurisprudence and his attempt to develop a system of
positive law that—​for the first time in history—​fulfils the demands of sympa-
thetic natural jurisprudence. Unfortunately, we cannot say much about the way
in which Adam Smith would have set up his system of sympathetic law in con-
crete terms. Just one thing is fairly clear: the hierarchy and order of rights would
not be based on the distinction between natural and acquired rights like in clas-
sical natural law. For Smith, all rights stem from the sympathy between impar-
tial spectators and persons principally concerned. The ranking of rights must
be deduced, therefore, from this sympathetic origin—​but how? Smith gives an
intriguing answer: it is the affective intensity of the fellow resentment that decides
about the significance of rights: the more intense the level of sympathetic resent-
ment, the more important the affected right.39 For example: murder is ‘the most
atrocious of all crimes’ and ‘excites the highest degree of resentment in those who
are immediately connected with the slain’ (TMS, 84). Hence, rights protecting
life are the most essential ones.
The most sacred laws of justice, therefore, those whose violation seems to call loud-
est for vengeance and punishment, are the laws which guard the life and person of our

37  ‘It is the end of jurisprudence to prescribe rules for the decisions of judges and arbiters.’ Smith,
Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 330 (n. 3).
38 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 475 (n. 6).
39  See the following statement made by Haakonssen: ‘For obviously both classes of rights [the natu-
ral as well as the acquired ones, B.R.] have the same foundation, namely the sympathetic resentment
of the impartial spectator at the injuries against which the rights are a protection. This resentment,
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Adam Smith 297
neighbour: the next are those which guard his property and possessions; and last of all come
those which guard what are called his personal rights, or what is due to him from the prom-
ises of others. (TMS, 84)
The sympathetic paradigm of rights would without doubt be the cardinal point
of Smith’s rewriting of positive law, but little can be said about the way in
which Smith planned to rewrite existing laws in detail. There is, however, one
example which sheds some light on this question, namely the example of the
inheritance law.
According to Smith’s sympathetic theory of rights, we respect the last will of
another person because we sympathize with him.
We naturaly [sic] find a pleasure in remembring [sic] the last words of a friend and in execut-
ing his last injunctions. The solemnity of the occasion deeply impresses the mind. Besides,
we enter as it were into his dead body, and conceive what our living souls would feel if they
were joined with his body, and how much we would be distressed to see our last injunctions
not performed.40
The sympathetic interaction with the dead is, according to Smith, the original
‘foundation of testamentary succession’ and is responsible for the legal practice to
‘extend property a little farther than a man’s lifetime’.41 This legal practice can only
be introduced in societies, which have already achieved a particular level of emo-
tional refinement.42 Undoubtedly, eighteenth-​century European societies would
be able to establish such a sympathetic inheritance law. This would not only be
adequate with regards to their emotional culture, but also economically beneficial,
since it would bring the disastrous praxis of perpetual entails to an end.
Upon the whole nothing can be more absurd than perpetual entails. In them the principals
of testamentary succession can by no means take place. Piety to the dead can only take place
when their memory is fresh in the minds of men. A power to dispose of estates for ever is
manifestly absurd. The earth and the fullness of it belongs to every generation, and the
preceding one can have no right to bind it up from posterity. Such extension of property is
quite unnatural.43
Smith’s critique of perpetual entails, motivated by his sympathetic philoso-
phy of rights, stands in full correspondence with his economic key convictions.
According to Smith, agriculture is the most productive sector of the economy,

however, is proportional to the severity of the injury done, and accordingly we get rights and the
corresponding rules of justice ordered into a scale of importance. The stronger the resentment of the
impartial spectator, the more important are the rules of justice that arise from it [.]’ Haakonssen, The
Science of a Legislator, pp. 101 (n. 2).
40 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, pp. 466f. (n. 6).
41 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, pp. 466f. (n. 6). Smith deals with the special case of sympathiz-
ing with the dead also in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, pp. 12f. (n. 3).
42  ‘It is to be observed that this practice is a considerable refinement in humanity, and never was
practised in a rude nation. Before the Twelve Tables no Roman had a right to make a will. Our Saxon
ancestors had no right to dispose of their lands by testament, and in the history of the Old Testament
we hear of no such practice.’ Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 467. (n. 6).
43 Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, p. 468. (n. 6).
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298 Bastian Ronge
since here ‘nature labours along with man’44 without generating any additional
costs.45 Every improvement in husbandry is, therefore, enormously beneficial to
the wealth of the nation. If the soil is withdrawn from the market, as it happens
through the practice of perpetual entails, it gets improved less than it could be. In
other words: the legal practice of perpetual entails harms the economic progress
of the nation.46
The example of the inheritance law does not only reveal how Smith’s sympathetic
reformulation of existing positive laws would look like; it also illustrates very clearly
how the three elements of Smith’s overall theoretical project—​the moral, the eco-
nomical, and the juridical—​are closely intertwined.
It is a matter of speculation, however, which other branches of law would
have been the subject of Smith’s sympathetic reformulation. The Lectures on
Jurisprudence provide us only with few hints in this direction, which are not strong
enough to be extrapolated here. Speculative spirit is required also to answer the
question how Smith’s vision of a sympathetic international law would potentially
have looked like.

V.  Adam Smith’s International Law: Pushing

the Limits of Sympathy

At first sight, the relationship between Smith’s internal legal law and international
law seems to be a problematic one. If all rights are grounded in sympathy, then this
means a severe constraint on the possibility of their internationalization or even
universalization. It appears that Smith’s theory of sympathy binds his legal theory
to particularity and relativity (just as it is the case with his moral philosophy).47
That sympathetic law is only suitable for small-​scale communities, where people
know each other and are bound to each other by solidarity. Actually, it’s true that
Smith’s legal as well as moral philosophy starts from particularity and relativity, but

44 Smith, Wealth of Nations, p. 363 (n. 10).

45  ‘No equal quantity of productive labour employed in manufactures can ever occasion so great
a reproduction. In them nature does nothing; man does all; and the reproduction must always be in
proportion to the strength of the agents that occasion it. The capital employed in agriculture, therefore,
not only puts into motion a greater quantity of productive labour than any equal capital employed in
manufactures, but in proportion too to the quantity of productive labour which it employs, it adds a
much greater value to the annual produce of the land and labour of the country, to the real wealth and
revenue of its inhabitants.’ Smith, Wealth of Nations, p. 364 (n. 10).
46  ‘Entails are disadvantageous to the improvement of the country […]. Heirs of entailed estates
have it not in their view to cultivate lands and often they are not able to do it. A man who buys land
has this entirely in view and in general the new purchasers are the best cultivators.’ Smith, Lectures on
Jurisprudence, p. 469 (n. 6).
47  Its alleged particularity or non-​universality is often presented and discussed as the mayor problem
of Smith’s moral philosophy. See e.g. Christel Fricke and Hans P. Schütt, Adam Smith als Moralphilosoph
(2005).
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Adam Smith 299

it would be a hasty reaction to jump to the conclusion that Smith is unable to think
international or universal rights.
It is widely acknowledged within the Adam Smith scholarship that his theory
of sympathy has a spatial dimension. There are various ‘circles of sympathy’,48
starting from the closest circle, which connects the individual and his family
and friends, to the middle circle which relates the individual to his neighbours
or fellow citizens, to the last circle, which links the individual to half-​and far-​
distanced strangers. The more one moves from the inner circle to the outer
circle, the strength of sympathy decreases. Hence, the sympathetic interaction
between friends differs quite significantly from that between strangers. In the
sympathetic interaction between friends, the person principally concerned has
to mitigate his emotions less than in the interaction with a stranger, since the
former is better able to slip into the shoes of the person principally concerned
and to evoke intense fellow feelings than the latter. The stranger does not know
the person principally concerned personally and is not familiar with his private
situation. For him, the situation and the person as such must appear in a ste-
reotypical light. Hence, the stranger’s readiness to sympathize with the person
principally concerned is reduced to a minimum. This means, in reverse, that the
interaction with the stranger is most suitable to gain maximal control over one’s
own passions.
We expect less sympathy from a common acquaintance than from a friend: we cannot open
to former all those little circumstances which we can unfold to the latter: we assume, there-
fore, more tranquillity before him, and endeavour to fix our thoughts upon those general
outlines of our situation which he is willing to consider. We expect still less sympathy from
an assembly of strangers, and we assume, therefore, still more tranquillity before them, and
always endeavour to bring down our passion to that pitch, which the particular company we
are in may be expected to go along to. (TMS, 23)
The spatial foundation of Smith’s theory of sympathy has sociological or rather
social-​psychological implications. The closer people live together, the more familiar
they are with each other and thus the more likely they will sympathize with each
other. Sympathy—​as harmony of emotions—​will be the easiest to achieve in the
closest circle of sympathy, namely between family members and friends, more diffi-
cult in the middle circle between neighbours and fellow-​citizens, and most difficult
between strangers.
This spatial ‘bias’ of Smith’s theory of sympathy has immediate consequences
for his philosophy of law. If all rights originate from the sympathy between the
spectator and the person principally concerned and if sympathy between stran-
gers is most difficult to achieve, Smith’s theory of rights seems to be bound to
the closest and middle circle of sympathy, i.e. to the boundaries of the nation
state. Within one nation, one could argue, the sympathetic relatedness between
the people is so developed that they all accept to fall under one and the

48  Fonna Forman-​Barzilai, Adam Smith and the Circles of Sympathy: Cosmopolitanism and Moral
Theory (2010).
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300 Bastian Ronge
same sympathetic law. They do not agree upon the idea, however, that strangers
should have the same rights as well. I might be able to feel that the thief should get
one and the same punishment no matter whether he stole from a friend of mine
or from a fellow citizen. But I will not be able to have the same fellow feeling of
resentment if the victim is an absolute stranger to me, for whom I have only the
fewest sympathetic feelings.49
There are two ways in which this problem of expanding sympathetic law to the
international level could be tackled. On the one hand, one could argue that the
sympathetic interaction with the stranger should be the standard for national law
as well. In this way, it would not make a difference if the ‘victim’ was a close friend
or a stranger. They would all fall under the same jurisdiction. This hypothetical
solution, however, apparently does not match up with Smith’s overall intention.
For Smith, the system of positive law should reflect the moral judgment that people
actually have. In eighteenth-​century refined European societies, people encounter
each other not like strangers, but like sentimental beings.50 It would therefore be
highly inappropriate to establish a legal system which stands in contrast to the
refined moral sentiments of the people by treating all people like strangers. Hence,
Smith would not come up with this solution to solve the problem of international-
izing sympathetic law. Probably, he would use another strategy, which would be
more in line with his overall intention: he would attempt to stimulate the cultural
process of sympathetic refinement. Smith’s vision seems to be that sympathetic
refinement enters a stage where the boundaries of the national state become irrel-
evant. In the first instance, Smith limits this project of sympathetic convergence to the
European nations, which is already a tough challenge, since among the European

49  The Chinese seem to represent for Smith the ‘radical other’, to whom we have almost no sympa-
thetic access. In a famous passage in his Theory of Moral Sentiments he states: ‘Let us suppose that the
great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was suddenly swallowed up by an earthquake,
and let us consider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no sort of connection with that part of
the world, would be affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity. He would, I imagine,
first of all, express very strongly his sorrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make
many melancholy reflections upon the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all the labours of
man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. […] And when all this fine philosophy was over,
when all these humane sentiments had been once fairly expressed, he would pursue his business or his
pleasure, take his repose or his diversion, with the same ease and tranquillity, as if no such accident had
happened. […] If he was to lose his little finger tomorrow, he would not sleep tonight; but, provided
he never saw them, he will snore with the most profound security over the ruin of a hundred millions of
his brethren, and the destruction of that immense multitude seems plainly an object less interesting to
him, than this paltry misfortune of his own.’ Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, pp. 136f. (n. 3). China
plays an important role in the cultural imagination of eighteenth-​century Europe, see for example
David Porter, The Chinese Taste in Eighteenth-​Century England (2010).
50  While in earlier societies even friends treat each other as if they were strangers, in the refined
(European) societies of the eighteenth century even strangers meet as if they were friends: ‘We can
venture to express more emotion in the presence of a friend than in that of a stranger, because we expect
more indulgence from the one than the other. And in the same manner the rules of decorum among
civilized nations, admit of a more animated behaviour, than is approved of among barbarians. The first
converse together with the openness of friends; the second with the reserve of strangers.’ Smith, Theory
of Moral Sentiments, p. 207 (n. 3).
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Adam Smith 301

nations the language of emotions differs significantly: the French and Italians are
much more sentimental and sympathetic than the English, which are—​according
to Smith—​still on the very bottom of sentimentality.51 There is no reason, however,
why this project of sympathetic convergence should end at the borders of Europe.
As long as the sympathetic relationships between peoples reaches the ‘middle circle’
of sympathy—​which means: as long as strangers recognize each other as fellow
citizenships, sympathetic law can be established. Internationalizing or even univer-
salizing sympathetic law is a target, therefore, that can be attained only by working
on our emotional sensibility and creating a language of emotion that crosses social,
cultural, and national boundaries. Without doubt, this idea is, in Smith, a deeply
Eurocentric one, since he views eighteenth-​century European societies as being
ahead in the cultural process of emotional refinement. Despite this problematic
historical aspect, Smith’s intriguing vision of an emotionally grounded legal sys-
tem could provide us with helpful insights for thinking international and universal
rights today, or so I would like to argue.
First of all, Smith helps us to realize that legal force is not rooted in political sov-
ereignty alone, as Thomas Hobbes suggested with his famous statement Auctoritas,
non veritas facit legem. The force of law equally depends on the factual moral judg-
ments of the demos. People’s everyday ‘legal practice’ is crucial with regards to the
effective enforcement of laws. A legal system which is in correspondence with the
moral judgments of the people is better and more powerful then a legal system
which departs from the moral intuitions of the people. Smith shows us quite clearly
that the original and last foundation of law and order is the practice of making
moral judgments—​our emotional reactions to injustice and suffering we observe.
The real substance of law is our moral sensibility and affectivity; a substance, which
turns out to be highly contingent, since it is shaped by various socio-​historical,
cultural, and subjective conditions that change over time.
The second lesson we could learn from Smith is that the question of internationali-
zation or even universalization of rights is not a matter of careful reasoning and con-
vincing argumentation; it is a matter of ‘Sentimental Education’. Internationalizing
or universalizing sympathetic rights depends on our ability to push the limits of
sympathy and to establish a common language of emotions which allows us to treat
even strangers as if they were fellow citizens. The international order of sympathetic
law will not be founded on reasons and arguments, but created by and maintained
through sympathetic interactions.

51  Cf. ‘The emotion and vivacity with which the French and the Italians, the two most polished
nations upon the continent, express themselves on occasions that are at all interesting, surprise at first
those strangers who happen to be travelling among them, and who, having been educated among a
people of duller sensibility, cannot enter into this passionate behaviour, of which they have never seen
any example in their own country. A young French nobleman will weep in the presence of the whole
court upon being refused a regiment. An Italian, says the abbot Dû Bos, expresses more emotion on
being condemned in a fine of twenty shillings, than an Englishman on receiving the sentence of death.’
Smith, Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 207 (n. 3).
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302 Bastian Ronge

Selected Bibliography
Forman-​Barzilai, Fonna, Adam Smith and the Circles of Sympathy:  Cosmopolitanism and
Moral Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010).
Haakonssen, Knud, The Science of a Legislator: The Natural Jurisprudence of David Hume and
Adam Smith (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981).
Haakonssen, Knud, ‘What Might Properly Be Called Natural Jurisprudence?’, in Roy
Campbell and Andrew Skinner (eds.), The Origins and Nature of the Scottish Enlightenment
(Edinburgh: John Donald Publishers, 1982), pp. 205–​25.
Haakonssen, Knud, Natural Law and Moral Philosophy:  From Grotius to the Scottish
Enlightenment (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
Phillipson, Nicholas, Adam Smith:  An Enlightened Life (New Haven; London:  Yale
University Press, 2010).
Ronge, Bastian, Das Adam-​Smith-​Projekt: Zur Genealogie der liberalen Gouvernementalität
(Wiesbaden: Springer VS, 2015).
 30

15
Systematicity to Excess
Kant’s Conception of the International Legal Order

Benedict Vischer

For whatever might be the highest degree of perfection at which humanity

must stop, and however great a gulf must remain between the idea and its
execution, no one can or should try to determine this, just because it is freedom
that can go beyond every proposed boundary.1

I. Introduction

In 1784, a journal reported: ‘A favourite idea of Mr. Prof. Kant is that the final
end of humankind is the attainment of the most perfect political constitution.’2
Kant reacted with a seminal essay, confirming and expounding his conviction that
the ‘the achievement of a civil society universally administering right’ constitutes
‘[t]he greatest problem for the human species’, as well as ‘the most difficult and
the latest to be solved’.3 In the future he envisions, humankind lives in a cosmo-
politan legal order forming one great system. Indeed, Kant was a fervent advocate
of a well-​ordered international legal system. Neither the doubt nor the derision
of his contemporaries could shake his defence of the duty and feasibility of a
cosmopolitan order.
The efforts for the cosmopolitan idea did not constitute a political engagement
isolated from Kant’s philosophical work.4 Nor was its philosophical examination

1  Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Paul Guyer and Allen W. Wood (2009), p. 397.
2  Gothaische gelehrte Zeitungen auf das Jahr 1784, Zweytes halbes Jahr (1784), p. 95. English trans-
lation (modified here) in Günter Zöller and Robert B. Louden (eds.), Immanuel Kant, Anthropology,
History, and Education (2007), p. 500.
3  Immanuel Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, trans. Allen W. Wood, in
Günter Zöller and Robert B. Louden (eds.), Anthropology, History, and Education (2007), pp. 112–​13.
4  For an illuminating exposition of the deep reflection of Kant’s political ideas in the structures of
his whole philosophy cf. Hans Saner, Kant’s Political Thought: Its Origins and Development, trans. E.B.
Ashton (1973).

Systematicity to Excess Kant’s Conception of the International Legal Order. Benedict Vischer. © Benedict
Vischer, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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304 Benedict Vischer

merely the hobbyhorse of an aging man with decreasing mental capacities, as has
been suggested.5 On the contrary, the topic of the international legal order pervades
the oeuvre from early on. Especially in shorter texts, legal development beyond the
state keeps figuring as a leading subject; among them some of the author’s most
popular text, such as Idea For a Universal History With a Cosmopolitan Aim and
Toward Eternal Peace. Yet also in Kant’s larger main works, international law is of
remarkable importance. Not only is the global legal order systematically detailed
in the doctrine of right of the Metaphysics of Morals. The idea of the international
legal order is also discussed in the Critique of Judgment, and even the Critique of Pure
Reason reflects in passing on the perfect political constitution.6
No doubt then, Kant is a paragon of systematic thought on international law.
He endorsed a conception of law as a cosmopolitan system, and he explicated this
conception as an essential part of his whole philosophical system. Following his
‘Copernican turn’ from the quest of external laws to the rules of the rational sub-
ject,7 the legal system was no more envisioned as merely given by god or nature,
but as a human achievement. This led Kant to a systematicity of law that went far
beyond what seemed probable considering the existing relations among human
beings on a global scale. His optimism made him a principal philosophical source
when law began to conquer the international domain in the twentieth century. The
institutional developments substantiated the bold visions to a surprising extent. At
the same time, essential aspects still await actualization. Kant’s vision continues to
bear its utopian appeal.
Despite this concurrence of systematic perfectionism and predictive realism,
Kant’s system of international law remains at essential points irritatingly vague,
sometimes even contradictory. The legitimating basis vacillates between natural
law and positivism, a priori reason and popular will, morality and public decision.
The institutional proposals hesitate between a truly cosmopolitan world state and a
looser federation. These ubiquitous ambiguities shaped the intensive reception. On
the one hand, it broadened the scope of authors that could find their champion in
Kant by picking and choosing the statements they preferred. On the other hand,
readings tried to come to terms with the intriguing ambiguities. Examining the
wavering between a world state or a world federation, interpreters have suggested
that Kant got caught in a false opposition,8 claimed that he defended a middle
way,9 or argued that he changed his view.10 Other studies have discerned structural

5  Hannah Arendt, Lectures on Kant’s Political Philosophy (1982), p. 9; cf. also Arthur Schopenhauer,
The World as Will and Representation, Vol. 1., trans. Judith Norman et al. (2010), p. 362; Friedrich
Paulsen, Immanuel Kant: His Life and Doctrine, trans. J.E. Creighton and Albert Lefevre (1902), p. 343.
6  The introductory quote is taken from this passage.
7 Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 110 (n. 1).
8  Jürgen Habermas, ‘Does the Constitutionalization of International Law Still Have a Chance’, in
The Divided West (2006), pp. 115–​93.
9  Pauline Kleingeld, ‘Approaching Perpetual Peace: Kant’s Defence of a League of States and His
Ideal of a World Federation’, European Journal of Philosophy 12 (2004), 304–​25.
10  Pauline Kleingeld, Kant and Cosmopolitanism: The Philosophical Ideal of World Citizenship (2012),
pp. 40–​71.
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Kant 305

reasons behind the ambiguities, observing in Kant’s philosophy elements that drive
beyond any definite legal order.11
Indeed, as I will argue, far from revealing an inconsistency or incompleteness
of the conception, the pervading tensions constitute a crucial dimension of Kant’s
international legal system. Kant did not intend to provide the conclusive plan for
legislation that many readers seek. By contrast, following the fundamental insights
of his philosophy, his sketch of the cosmopolitan system shows that the emancipa-
tory project of law is an infinite endeavour we can never conclude. In its ultimate
openness, the idea of the system points to the ongoing excess of any determined sys-
tem. An integral element of Kant’s philosophical system, the system of law reflects
the human condition of conscious finitude; it is shaped by our situation as worldly
beings who act within a historical horizon. The full actualization of law lies not in a
fixed state, but in a continuous process of self-​transcendence.
To comprehend Kant’s system of law means primarily to grasp this constitutive
openness. I will accompany Kant’s systematic course beyond the system in three
steps: a first chapter briefly sketches the systematicity of Kant’s conception of law.
Against this background, I will, secondly, consider more closely the status of the
legal system. Kant exposes this status by developing the system as an idea, binding
it consistently up with history, and tracking hermeneutically the implications of its
practical character. In a third step, I will turn to concrete facets of the systematic
openness. Law’s internal impulse to push beyond its order shapes the reality of law
as a whole as well as its actualization on the international level. These concrete traits
of the system exploding dynamic continue to inspire central innovative perspectives
in international legal thought, and outline a concept of law through and through
committed to the actualization of freedom.

II.  The Systematicity of International Law

Kant conceives international law decidedly as systematic. The systematicity of

international law is asserted in three, interrelated respects. First, international law
as such is outlined systematically. Second, law as a whole is understood as a system,
international law being an essential part thereof. Third, the legal system is located
at a crucial place in the philosophical system.
International law is not outlined as a collection of contracts or rights, but as ‘a
cosmopolitan whole, i.e. a system of all states’.12 It is constructed as an encompassing

11 Karl Jaspers, ‘Kant’s “Perpetual Peace” ’, in Philosophy and the World:  Selected Writings
and Essays, trans. E.B. Ashton (1963), pp. 88–​124; Emil Angehrn, ‘Kant und die gegenwärtige
Geschichtsphilosophie’, in Dietmar H. Heidemann and Kristina Engelhard (eds.), Warum Kant heute?
(2004), pp. 328–​51; Georg Cavallar, Kant and the Theory and Practice of International Right (1999);
Elisabeth Ellis, Provisional Politics: Kantian Arguments in Policy Context (2008). Cf. also the further
references in the sections below.
12  Immanuel Kant, Critique of the Power of Judgment, trans. Paul Guyer and Eric Matthews (2000),
p. 300.
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306 Benedict Vischer

order of two interrelated sets of publicly determined common and universal
rules that establish mutual obligations among all peoples of the world. The law
of peoples (‘Völkerrecht’) regulates the rights among states, cosmopolitan law
(‘Weltbürgerrecht’) contains the rights of individuals beyond the state. Thus, inter-
national law is in Kant’s conception strictly speaking transnational: it is not limited
to interstate relations, but also recognizes and even centres on individuals as legal
subjects. Both parts of the international system are based on the principle of right
and directed towards the aim of an eternal peace, not only between states, but
also among individuals.13 In conjunction they establish a perfectly ordered interna-
tional legal condition ensuring individuals and states universal rights.
The two components of international law form together with state law the ‘sys-
tem of laws’ which Kant terms ‘public law’.14 This concept encompasses in Kant all
law in a civil condition (including rules of private relations), whereas private law
refers to law under pre-​political conditions. Law is public, if it is dependent upon
‘general promulgation’15 and thus subjected to a ‘uniting will’.16 International law
builds two of the three integral parts of the public legal order, and the three realms
are conceived as radically interdependent: ‘if the principle of outer freedom limited
by law is lacking in any one of these three possible forms of legal condition, the
framework of all others is unavoidably undermined and must finally collapse’.17
The exposition of the three parts confirms this claim. They build mutually on each
other and intersect in different ways.18
A system is defined in the Critique of Pure Reason as ‘the unity of the manifold
cognitions under one idea’.19 In accordance with this, Kant conceives all law as
based on one single idea, the universal principle of right: ‘Any action is right if it
can coexist with everyone’s freedom in accordance with a universal law, or if on
its maxim the freedom of choice of each can coexist with everyone’s freedom in
accordance with a universal law.’20 The relation of the principle to the moral law
is disputed in the Kant literature.21 However, in any case, the former somehow
transposes the categorical imperative to the sphere of external action:  while the
categorical imperative requires the universalizability of the voluntary maxim, the
principle of right merely demands that the action—​irrespectively of the agents’
motive—​conforms to a universal law. ‘That I make it my maxim to act rightly is a

13  Cf. on the ethical dimension of Kant’s peace ideal Howard Williams, Kant’s Political Philosophy
(1983), pp. 260–​8.
14  Immanuel Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Mary J. Gregor (ed. and trans.), Practical
Philosophy (1996), p. 455 (translation modified, emphasis omitted).
15 Ibid. 16 Ibid. 17  Ibid. (translation modified).
18  Cf. Seyla Benhabib, Another Cosmopolitanism (2006), pp. 148–​9; seminal on the nexus between
liberal state law and international peace Michael W. Doyle, ‘Kant, Liberal Legacies, and Foreign
Affairs’, Philosophy & Public Affairs 12, (1983), 205–​35.
19 Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 691 (n. 1).
20  Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 387 (n. 14).
21  Cf. Marcus Willaschek, ‘Why the Doctrine of Right Does Not Belong in the Metaphysics of
Morals: On Some Basic Distinctions in Kant’s Moral Philosophy’, Jahrbuch für Recht und Ethik 5
(1998), 205–​27; Arthur Ripstein, Force and Freedom: Kant’s Legal and Political Philosophy (2009),
pp. 355–​88.
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Kant 307

demand that ethics makes on me.’22 From the defining universality follows system-
aticity: every right is bound up with corresponding rights of others, and different
rights must be compatible with each other.23
Hence, the claim of right is located independently of the existence of a politi-
cal community directly in practical reason. Yet it demands the institution of such
a community. Without publicly determined laws binding everyone mutually, no
one’s rights are secured from encroachments. Lacking insurance of reciprocity, one
cannot be expected to respect the others’ rights. Moreover, a coordinated concre-
tization requires common rules. The principle can therefore only be actualized
through a cosmopolitan public order. Only a unified will can establish law’s essen-
tial systematicity.24
In addition to its inner systematicity, Kant’s account of law is also embedded
and centrally located in his philosophical system. Kant’s system is fundamentally
organized by the distinction between theoretical and practical reason. While theo-
retical knowledge is dependent on a sensually given, practical duty is solely based
on reason. Developed systematically as the first part of the Metaphysics of Morals,
the conception of law is in some respect clearly located in the practical part of the
system. Yet, while Kant relates morality to the maxim of the will, he determines
the concept of right by reference to external action. Shifting from the individual
will to a common will, law is comprehended as a medium organizing the actions in
the world independently of the actor’s individual motives—​guiding even a ‘nation
of devils’25—​and backed up with coercion. Law provides a means to bridge free-
dom and nature, mind and world, eternity and time. Thus, it assumes a role of
mediation between theory and practice. That is why the cosmopolitan order is
also prominently discussed outside the strictly practical philosophy, not least in the
Critique of Judgment. As with other writings, the third Critique associates the cos-
mopolitan order in the part on teleological judgment with the final end of human
existence, envisioning it as the venue of morality’s full actualization that reconciles
the latter with the empirical world. The cosmopolitan vision harmonizes the differ-
ent parts of the philosophical system in the notion of a ‘morally grounded system
of [states]’.26 In addition to that, Hannah Arendt famously exposed the political
significance of the first part of the book on aesthetic judgment: Kant’s explication
reveals the logic of public judgment through which the cosmopolitan history of the
legal order proceeds.27
This mediating function in the philosophical system gives Kant’s legal thought
a fairly unusual shape within his philosophy. Basic dichotomies are moderated,
reason is embedded in sociality and history, and the theoretical argumentation is

22  Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 388 (n. 14).

23  Cf. Jeremy Waldron, ‘Kant’s Legal Positivism’, Harvard Law Review 109, (1996), 1557.
24  Cf. Waldron, ‘Kant’s Legal Positivism’, Harvard Law Review 109, (1996) (n. 23).
25  Immanuel Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Mary J. Gregor (ed. and trans.), Practical Philosophy
(1996), p. 335.
26 Kant, Critique of the Power of Judgment, p. 300 (n. 12).
27 Arendt, Lectures on Kant’s Political Philosophy (n. 5).
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308 Benedict Vischer

bound up with pragmatic considerations in a politically engaged discourse. These
anomalies constitute a great challenge for Kant scholarship and might explain the
conspicuous neglect of the conception of the legal order, especially its public actu-
alization, in many interpretations of Kant. Yet, the distinguished role and shape of
the legal reflections also promise essential insights putting the whole philosophi-
cal system in a new light. Indeed, from Kant’s immediate successors in German
Idealism until today, these intriguing thoughts have been central to diverse seminal
receptions of the Enlightener.

III.  The Status of the Cosmopolitan System

1. The system as an idea

Kant’s concept of the legal system assumes a peculiar status between presence and
absence. On the one hand, it is developed in detail from reason as an a priori—​thus
always already binding—​claim. On the other hand, it points to a not yet existing
state to come. Reason postulates a law that differs from the prevailing legal reality.
This tension between Kant’s account and the lex lata does not simply reflect a pro-
gressive stance vis-​à-​vis the existing political situation. The distance from the given
condition is also a structural feature of Kant’s notion of the system. The mediation
of freedom and nature by law is nothing we could ever conclusively achieve, but
an ‘idea’ we infinitely have to approach.28 Be it the perfect civil state,29 the eternal
peace,30 the cosmopolitan constitution,31 or the ‘condition of public right’ as a
whole32—​in all cases Kant insists on the system’s distinct status as an aim of infinite
approximation. Already the titles of Kant’s political writings indicate this dynamical
logic: the equivocal title of the peace treatise means ‘on’, but also ‘for’ and ‘toward’
eternal peace (‘Zum ewigen Frieden’). The title of the essay on universal history
points to the cosmopolitan as an ‘intention’, ‘purpose’, or ‘aim’, using a word that
also reverberates with ‘view’ (‘Absicht’). This structure is also displayed by the char-
acteristic ambiguity and vagueness of the central components of the legal vision.
The peculiar unattainability of the idea reflects human finitude. Our limited
abilities lead us always to fall short of the highest ideal: ‘out of such crooked wood
as the human being is made, nothing entirely straight can be fabricated’.33 Yet
the implications of human finitude exceed mere flaws in applying the commands

28  See e.g. Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History,
and Education, p. 113 (n. 3); Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 487 (n. 14);
Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 397 (n. 1).
29  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 113 (n. 3).
30  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 331 (n. 25); Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of
Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 492 (n. 14).
31  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 329 (n. 25).
32  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 351 (n. 25).
33  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 113 (n. 3).
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Kant 309

of reason. As the hazy depiction of the system signals, our finite reason cannot
even fully anticipate the content of the system. In qualifying the legal system as an
idea to be approached infinitely Kant uses a concept thoroughly elaborated in his
philosophy, particularly in the second part of the Critique of Pure Reason. The suc-
cinct definition of ideas in the Lectures on Anthropology reads: ‘Ideas are concepts of
reason, to which no object given in experience can be adequate […], concepts of
a perfection that we can always approach but never completely attain.’34 As Kant
expounds, in our experience, we relate and order under the categories of the under-
standing a sensual given. Every possible object of experience is therefore necessarily
dependent on a given content and related to another object. By contrast, the idea
conceives an absolute, thus conclusive and unconditioned.35 Such concepts provide
an essential aim to guide, motivate, and sustain the course of knowledge and action.
They are not least crucial to mediate the realms of theory and practice.36 But they
cannot be wholly determined, and the approximation never comes to an end. The
attempt to grasp them as objects of experience leads to a contradiction. They are
generally only of ‘regulative’ use: as a guidance for reason. Only practically are ideas
also ‘constitutive, i.e. practically determining’.37 Their specific power lies precisely
in their reaching beyond the realm of experience.
Accordingly, the system of law is a state we can neither set up nor even think
conclusively. Indeed, the notion of its full and infinite moral perfection conflicts
with the very concept of law differentiated from morality through the involvement
of finite natural motives: if law matched its idea completely, it would not be law
anymore.38 Vagueness and ambiguity are necessary qualities of the system’s portrait.
Given that law essentially mediates morality with the empirical world, the account
can only provide an ‘approximation to [the system]’.39 To be sure, the claim of
systematicity calls for actualization here and now. It is implied in the a priori con-
cept of right. Reason demands that we seek immediately for a global system of
equal rights which ensures the defining universality of right. Wherever the distinct
authority of law is claimed, the idea of the system is involved and requires attention.
At the same time, however, in pointing to an unforeseeable, literally utopian state,
and surpassing every concretization, the idea requires us to continuously reconsider
and transcend established systems. It incites at once the constitution and the excess
of concrete orders.
The insurmountable distance of the system from every present state is essential
for the idea’s liberating power. However, the radical remoteness makes the claim of
this very potency at the same time precarious. If we can only approach the idea,
but never attain its full content, if the thought of its full reality even leads to a

34  Immanuel Kant, ‘Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View’, trans. Robert B. Louden, in
Günter Zöller and Robert B. Louden (eds.), Anthropology, History, and Education (2007), pp. 306–​7.
35  Cf. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 399–​405 (n. 1).
36  Cf. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. 403 (n. 1).
37 Kant, Critique of the Power of Judgment, p. 322 (emphasis omitted) (n. 12).
38  Indeed, the idea exceeds even moral action. Moral practice also involves an external situation on
which the moral law is applied.
39  Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 365 (n. 14).
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310 Benedict Vischer

contradiction, then the idea also seems to be unable to guide. Lacking a definite,
consistent content, it cannot provide a reliable benchmark for approximation,
let alone assume normative force for that criterion. The effort of approximation
seems to be a meaningless endeavour, as there is nothing that could be reliably
recognized as progress.
Hegel criticized the logic of Kant’s idea for this reason famously as ‘bad […]
infinity’: Every step from the finite towards the infinite leads again to an equally
finite, because the infinite is considered to be unattainable.40 Conceived thus,
Hegel pointed out, the supposed infinite is itself merely finite, because it is opposed
to and thus limited by the finite.41 The ‘true infinity’, instead, involves the finite.42
It is the relation of the very process itself in which the finite moves to the other, the
transcendent, finding therein its truth, the ‘being with itself in its other’ in Hegel’s
famous formula.43 Progress is only possible, if the infinite is present in the very
process and can therefore guide the latter.
The argument is compelling. An inconceivable idea cannot determine our
thought and practice. However, in its central consideration, Hegel’s critique articu-
lates rather than disproves the underlying logic of Kant’s conception. The truth
of the idea does not lie in an ever remote future, but in the relentless dynamic it
initiates here and now. Kant illustrates this with a mathematical example: ‘if “the
human species” signifies the whole of a series of generations going (indeterminably)
into the infinite (as this meaning is entirely customary), and it is assumed that this
series ceaselessly approximates the line of its destiny running alongside it, then it
is not to utter a contradiction to say that in all its parts it is asymptotic to this line
and yet on the whole that it will coincide with it, in other words, that no member
of all the generations of humankind, but only the species will fully reach its des-
tiny’.44 The idea is present in the incessant motion, not a state brought about at any
point of time. The insistence on the unattainability grasps the way we experience
the ongoing vitality of the dynamic we are involved in. This persistent unrest of
order–​constitution and order–​transcendence—​present and coming at once—​is the
actuality of law. The insurmountable distance of the idea animates law’s steadily
present tendency to reveal and empower new claims. In their idea, legal orders bear
the impetus of emancipatory transformation. The logic of presence and distance
is also displayed in the title of the essay on peace. The current English translations
conceal the fact that Kant does not merely term the peace here as perpetual, but as
‘eternal’ (‘ewig’). The idea remains infinitely out of reach because it exceeds time. It

40 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences in Basic Outline,
Part 1: Science of Logic, ed. and trans. Klaus Brinkmann and Daniel O. Dahlstrom (2010), p. 149.
41 Hegel, Encyclopedia, Part 1, p. 150 (n. 40).
42 Hegel, Encyclopedia, Part 1, p. 149 (n. 40).
43 Hegel, Encyclopedia, Part 1, p. 149 (n. 40); cf. for a more extensive account of true and bad infin-
ity Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, The Science of Logic, ed. and trans. George Di Giovanni (2010),
pp. 108–​25.
44  Immanuel Kant, ‘Review of J.G. Herder’s “Ideas for the Philosophy of the History of Humanity”
Parts 1 and 2’, trans. Allen W. Wood, in Günter Zöller and Robert B. Louden (eds.), Anthropology,
History, and Education (2007), p. 142.
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Kant 311

makes every single moment explode, pointing it beyond itself. Precisely because it
is not simply the knowledge of a future state in time, it is also opening up the pos-
sibility and demanding the endeavour for instant redemption.45
In careful readings of Kant’s political writings, Jürgen Habermas and Axel
Honneth each exposed the ‘system-​exploding’ implications of these works.46 They
traced ‘unofficial’ stories behind the primary narrative leading beyond Kant’s offi-
cial philosophy.47 Indeed, these explosive thoughts are even more than hidden devi-
ations. The dialectics of system-​formation and system-​burst pointing beyond the
anticipations of the philosopher and any other human perspective is a central point
in Kant’s system of law and of philosophy in general. Mere slivers of the infinite in
our finite reason, ideas do not overturn our finitude. Yet they enable us to become
aware of our finitude, of the limitedness and fallibility of our knowledge, and to
act consciously on this condition.48 This self-​consciousness changes our condition
fundamentally. It opens up a horizon of action that allows and pushes us to surpass
the boundaries of constituted legal systems over and over in a never concluded and
ever incalculable endeavour of emancipation.

2. Historicity of law: temporality, sociality, directedness

The unpredictable, transcending element at the core of law gives the latter a histori-
cal shape. The emancipatory consciousness of the idea is essentially a consciousness
of the future. Kant’s writings highlight this nexus between law and history clearly.
Most of the texts dealing with the cosmopolitan legal system also address the subject
of history. Even in the Metaphysics of Morals the conception of the legal system is
embedded in a historical narrative. The doctrine of right concludes with expound-
ing the global peace order as the end of an ongoing process of approximation.49
The notion of history Kant describes has three essential implications: the tempo-
ral structure of law, the social formation of legal normativity, and an evolutionary
tendency beyond the intention of the interacting subjects. In the first place, the his-
toricity of law reflects our temporal consciousness. As a normative medium deter-
mining what ought to be as different from what merely is, law is already in its most
elementary logic characterized by the awareness of temporal change. Legal rules
prescribe future behaviour. But the idea of the legal system Kant reconstructs goes
further. It projects a future where not only the arrangement of social interactions,

45  Cf. Immanuel Kant, ‘Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason’, trans. George di Giovanni,
in Allen W. Wood and George di Giovanni (eds.), Religion and Rational Theology (1996), p. 163.
46  Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category
of Bourgeois Society, trans. Thomas Burger (1989), p.  116; Axel Honneth, ‘The Irreducibility of
Progress:  Kant’s Account of the Relationship between Morality and History’, in Pathologies of
Reason: On the Legacy of Critical Theory, trans. James Ingram and others (2009), passim (translated here
with ‘system-​bursting’; the German term both authors use is ‘systemsprengend’).
47 Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, p.  115 (n. 46); Honneth, ‘The
Irreducibility of Progress’, in Pathologies of Reason, pp. 12, 17 (n. 46).
48  Cf. Jaspers, ‘Kant’s “Perpetual Peace” ’, in Philosophy and the World, pp. 117–​20 (n. 11).
49  Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, pp. 490–​2 (n. 14).
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312 Benedict Vischer

but also the human beings themselves alter fundamentally. Essentially formed by
our relation to future, legal institutions bear the idea not to be bound by timeless
natural conditions underlying them. Law entertains a dialectical relationship with
its conditions. It is always shaped by its historical context, but it conversely moulds
the structures of the world and in particular the disposition of subjects. In this
dynamic, new realities emerge. The perspective into the future points even beyond
any change we can anticipate. It is bound up with the awareness of the limits of our
current perspective. The modality of future consciousness is essentially openness.
This is why this perspective bears the chance of imminent change. The dimension
of the future liberates the emancipatory potential of law. While the expectation that
everything will stay the same or even worsen threatens the readiness to endeavour
moral progress, the possibility of a fundamentally other to come enables us to actu-
alize law as a medium of morally directed transformation. This prospect is therefore
an essential complement of the system the concept of right calls for.
History, however, presumes more than mere temporal change. It also involves a
meaningful linkage of temporal occurrences. History as a collective singular even
suggests such a connection of humankind, if not—​as we increasingly realize in our
days—​the universe as a whole. Kant’s reflections on history indeed refer to the idea
of a ‘universal history’.50 Law’s historicity relates to the evolution of the human spe-
cies embedded in nature. For one thing, the factual development of the legal order is
not at the disposition of any single individual, but depends on the entire society. Yet
more importantly, the rational foundation of law is also socially formed. Since the
system of rules actualizing the concept of right is not timelessly given, it has its basis
in the ‘united will of the people’.51 Corresponding with Rousseau’s concept of the
general will, Kant does not identify this common will with the factual will of all.52
The uniting will is rather the rational comprehension of the common aim a society
reaches at a certain point of history. This will is universal in a stronger sense than
factual consent, because it is justified with reasons accessible to everyone. However,
this distinction from the preferences a community might approve does not locate
the authorizing standpoint beyond society. Human reason has no other place than
the concrete beings embodying this capacity. It is an ability of these very beings to
distance themselves from their immediate perspectives. Society is not merely the
aggregate of beings possessing this faculty, but the realm where reason is formed
and developed: ‘how much and how correctly would we think if we did not think
as it were in community with others to whom we communicate our thoughts, and
who communicate theirs with us!’.53 It is the encounter with others that enables us

50  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education (n. 3).
51  Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 457 (n. 14).
52  Cf. Immanuel Kant, ‘On the Common Saying: That May Be Correct in Theory, but It Is of No
Use in Practice’, in Mary J. Gregor (ed. and trans.), Practical Philosophy (1996), p. 297; Jean-​Jacques
Rousseau, ‘Of the Social Contract’, in Victor Gourevitch (ed. and trans.), The Social Contract and Other
Later Political Writings (1997), p. 60.
53  Immanuel Kant, ‘What Does It Mean to Orient Oneself in Thinking?’, trans. Allen W. Wood, in
Allen W. Wood and George di Giovanni (eds.), Religion and Rational Theology (1996), p. 16.
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Kant 313

to become aware of other perspectives, recognize the particularity of our own, and
grasp in a process of continuous reconsideration a universal stance. This stance con-
stitutes the guideline for the legal system. Pioneering a central thought of modern
philosophy, Kant establishes in the exposition of law’s public historicity the social
fabric of reason.
Still, reason’s locus in society neither ensures that the claim of reason prevails in
social interactions, nor precludes a straying of collective reasoning. The members
of the society do not necessarily intend the standpoint of reason to be determin-
ing, and social interactions unleash a dynamic exceeding the calculations of the
involved subjects. Kant suggests institutional means to direct this dynamics benefi-
cially. In particular, he recognizes and promotes publicity as a frame to channel the
political development toward the ultimate aim of reason. However, even optimal
institutional conditions can only further, but not fully control the aspired outcome.
What is more, these conditions are themselves dependent on their social formation.
Given humanity’s flaws, finitude, and freedom, the actuality of a meaningful uni-
versal history keeps an ultimate unavailability. The continuing course toward the
highest aim requires therefore a tendency beyond human feasibility.
A great deal of Kant’s considerations on history concerns this dimension beyond
the intentions of the subjects. In colourful examinations of human’s ‘unsocia-
ble sociability’54 he suggests a directedness of nature that makes even deplorable
behaviour serve a benevolent purpose in the social interplay. Kant could rely on
prominent sources to make this claim: he draws on biblical passages, interpreting
their narrative in the vein of the long-​standing felix culpa tradition.55 He refers
to Rousseau’s analysis of the transitional vices of cultivation.56 Mandevilles’s and
Smith’s contentions on the beneficial dynamics of self-​interest provided further
endorsements in the contemporary debate.57 Following these suggestions and sup-
porting them with further remarks, Kant reconstructs an overarching trend bring-
ing the incalculable societal processes in the coherence of a history and putting law
on track towards cosmopolitan perfection.

3. Hermeneutics of practice
Given its distinctive unavailability, the notion of the historical development
towards the coming cosmopolitan system has a peculiar theoretical shape. It not
only exceeds experience. Kant even underlines that it runs against what experience

54  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 111 (emphasis omitted) (n. 3).
55  Immanuel Kant, ‘Conjectural Beginning of Human History’, trans. Allen W. Wood, in Günter
Zöller and Robert B. Louden (eds.), Anthropology, History, and Education (2007), pp. 160–​75.
56  Kant, ‘Conjectural Beginning of Human History’, in Anthropology, History, and Education, p. 93
(n. 55); cf. also Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History,
and Education, p.  116 (n. 3); on Rousseau’s respective theory cf. Frederick Neuhouser, Rousseau’s
Theodicy of Self-​Love: Evil, Rationality, and the Drive for Recognition (2010).
57  Bernard Mandeville, The Fable of the Bees: Or Private Vices, Public Benefits (1988); Adam Smith,
An Inquiry into the Nature of the Wealth of Nations (1979), pp. 25–​30.
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314 Benedict Vischer

suggests.58 ‘One cannot resist feeling a certain indignation when one sees [human
beings’] doings and refrainings on the great stage of the world and finds that […]
everything in the large is woven together out of folly, childish vanity, often also out
of childish malice and the rage to destruction’.59 Observing the course of things is
more likely to evoke despair than confidence regarding the future.60 Countering
this impression, Kant considers hermeneutically what conception of the historical
evolution as a whole proper human self-​understanding implies.61 He argues that,
even though we cannot certainly know that the development of the world will lead
to the morally required order, we have to comprehend it accordingly in order to
engage with the world appropriately both in theoretical and practical terms. The
Critique of Judgment explicates the necessity to perceive the world as a teleological
system that brings about cosmopolitan perfection when inquiring experience theo-
retically.62 The moral and political writings stress the even more significant role of
such an underlying worldview for practice. Nature’s purposiveness guiding to the
unfolding of human’s capabilities ensures its compatibility with morality. Trust in
this harmony of our duty with the world is crucial for keeping committed to the
moral imperatives.63 The assumption of progress toward the cosmopolitan is thus
implied in our self-​understanding as rationally cognizing and acting subjects. It
is intimated by the impression of propriety of the world for our comprehension
and the experience of obligation by the moral law in our dealing with the world.
Given its fundamental role for fidelity to the moral law, endorsing this conception
is even normatively urged. Against this background, Kant’s examination of the his-
torical development does not attempt to prove the actuality of this cosmopolitan
tendency, but only to show its possibility in order to confirm what reason suggests
and commands.64
In one of his last writings, the Conflict of Faculties, Kant affirms his confidence
in the course of history with another intriguing argument. The ‘universal yet dis-
interested sympathy’ of outside spectators for the French revolution ‘which reveals
itself publicly’ is invoked as a ‘historical sign’ displaying ‘a tendency and faculty in
human nature for improvement’ underpinning the course of history.65 It there-
fore manifests, Kant argues, a continuous progress in the legal organization of

58  Kant, ‘Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason’, in Religion and Rational Theology, p. 153
(n. 45): ‘Experience refuses to allow us any hope in this direction.’
59  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 109 (n. 3).
60 Kant, ‘Conjectural Beginning of Human History’, in Anthropology, History, and Education,
p. 173 (n. 55).
61  Cf. Honneth, ‘The Irreducibility of Progress’, in Pathologies of Reason (n. 46); Angehrn, ‘Kant und
die gegenwärtige Geschichtsphilosophie’, in Warum Kant heute? (n. 11).
62 Kant, Critique of the Power of Judgment, pp. 279–​301 (n. 12).
63  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 110 (n. 3); Kant, ‘Conjectural Beginning of Human History’, in Anthropology, History,
and Education, p. 173 (n. 55).
64  Kant, ‘On the Common Saying’, in Practical Philosophy, p.  306 (n. 52); cf. also Kant, ‘The
Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical Philosophy, pp. 490–​1 (n. 14).
65  Immanuel Kant, ‘The Conflict of the Faculties’, trans. Allen W. Wood, in Allen W. Wood and
George di Giovanni (eds.), Religion and Rational Theology (1996), pp. 301–​2, 304.
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Kant 315

humanity. The stunning experience of the French Revolution, driven by the claim
of universal freedom, provided beyond theoretical reasoning in most palpable
real developments of the time a powerful endorsement for Kant’s bold optimism.
Still, the far-​reaching conclusions Kant draws from this are surprising. Deducing
from empirical facts the direction and outcome of history seems at odds with
the most foundational theses of the critical philosopher. However, the weight he
attributes to the historical sign relies again on hermeneutical reasons: the sign
assumes its full significance through its impact on our self-​understanding. Kant’s
prophecy—​as he frames his assertions ironically—​is based on the fact that the
forecasted progress is ‘an occurrence that [man] himself could produce’.66 The
revolution and its reception indicate a disposition conducive to the free actualiza-
tion of moral aspirations. This experience is predictive, because it encourages and
informs our free endeavour to redeem the promise. It gains its significance from
the prospect that ‘such a phenomenon in human history will not forget itself’.67 It
is this lasting influence on our self-​understanding that accounts for the power of
the historical sign.
This line of thought brings the self-​implying structure of the idea to light: the
confidence in the historical tendency towards the ultimate aim liberates our free
efforts in the aspired direction, and these efforts vindicate the confidence.68 This
dialectic is bound up with the curious fusion of anticipation and openness. The
configuration reflects the simultaneous dependence on freedom and nature of the
legal endeavour pointing ultimately to their mediation. Yet this delicate nature in
no way defies the salience of the idea for an adequate account of law. Kant stresses
that the conclusion he draws from the historical sign is ‘not just a well-​meaning
and practically commendable proposition, but […] a proposition valid also for
the most rigorous theory’.69 This obviously does not mean that the claim meets the
criteria of theoretical knowledge as determined in the first Critique. By contrast,
in other writings—​many of them also written in the post-​revolutionary period—​
Kant often maintains that the supposition of the historical tendency is practically
justified, while exceeding theoretical knowledge.70 The notion of the historical sign
provides nothing that would change this character of the claim. Rather, the insist-
ence on the perfect theoretical validity points out that this form of hermeneutical
insight in our necessary self-​understanding as engaged subjects is by no means less
scientifically sound than other sorts of knowledge.

66  Kant, ‘The Conflict of the Faculties’, in Religion and Rational Theology, p. 300 (n. 65).
67  Kant, ‘The Conflict of the Faculties’, in Religion and Rational Theology, p. 304 (translation modi-
fied) (n. 65).
68  Cf. Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, pp. 115–​16 (n. 46); Angehrn,
‘Kant und die gegenwärtige Geschichtsphilosophie’, in Warum Kant heute?, p. 346 (n. 11) (noting that
this self-​implying logic pertains to philosophy of history in general).
69  Kant, ‘The Conflict of the Faculties’, in Religion and Rational Theology, p. 304 (translation modi-
fied) (n. 65).
70  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 332 (n. 25); Kant, ‘On the Common
Saying’, in Practical Philosophy, p.  306 (n. 52); Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’, in Practical
Philosophy, p. 490 (n. 14).
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316 Benedict Vischer

The chapter on the historical sign is dedicated to the conflict of the philosophical
with the juridical faculty. It defends the localization of law in a horizon of histori-
cal progress against the technicist conception Kant observed in legal scholarship.
Ignoring or even denying the possibility of actual transformation the jurists con-
struct law as a mere tool to organize timeless natural dispositions according to the
preferences of the authority. Such a perspective misses the most distinctive fea-
ture of law. It cannot grasp the emancipatory power that underlies its normative
appeal. In this picture, law can at best serve the efficiency of benevolent adminis-
tration, but it cannot liberate us from our given conditions and enable true self-​
determination. A rigorous theory of law that reconstructs its subject accurately is
only possible, where the underlying self-​understanding of this social practice is
taken into account.71
The concern about the juridical perspective is a central motive in Kant’s political
works, which dwell on the deficiencies and vices of this competing view. He con-
demns the lawyers’ appearance as ‘political moralist[s]’ who subject all moral con-
siderations to the prevailing goals of the state.72 He deplores the role of the leading
figures of international law, ‘Hugo Grotius, Pufendorf, Vattel, and the like’, as ‘only
sorry comforters’ whose works serve to justify every belligerent attack without ever
motivating the abstention of violence.73 What makes the juridical standpoint so
problematic is that it is self-​fulfilling: if the possibility of progress is not considered,
then law is indeed bound by the existing preconditions whose prudent arrangement
is all it can offer.74 As our self-​understanding shapes the way we act, law as a form
of action cannot be described innocently. Our conception of law determines what
it is. Ironically, the philosopher asks the lawyers to give due regard for the practical
nature of law. The jurists examine law like an external phenomenon, and fail to
take into account the complex relation between knowledge and action. Thus, their
description neither bothers with the role of our underlying mindset in general, nor
with the influence of their own perspective on the subject matter in particular. What
results is the distorting picture and reality of a law lacking its highest virtues. Kant’s
conception attempts to overcome this consequential flaw. To do so, he carefully
delineates the intricate structure of the cosmopolitan aim. Moreover, he embraces
the involvement of theory in practice through the decidedly engaged form of his
political writings. Kant imaginatively mobilizes his rhetorical talent, intervenes into
contemporary debates, and addresses a greater public with short, accessible writ-
ings to engender the emancipatory mindset. The truth of theories on human things
always also depends on the consequences of the theory. Still, the cosmopolitan idea

71  Cf. Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Constitutionalism as Mindset: Reflections on Kantian Themes about
International Law and Globalization’, Theoretical Inquiries in Law 8 (2007), 9–​36.
72  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, pp. 338–​47 (n. 25).
73  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 326 (n. 25).
74  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 341 (n. 25); Kant, ‘The Conflict of the
Faculties’, in Religion and Rational Theology, pp. 297–​8 (n. 65); cf. also Immanuel Kant, ‘An Answer to
the Question: What Is Enlightenment?’, in Practical Philosophy, trans. Mary J. Gregor (1996), p. 17.
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Kant 317

ultimately remains a bet. Enlightenment can only promote its final outcome. The
rest is freedom and history.

IV.  Traits of Openness

The systematic openness pervades Kant’s portrayal of the legal order. It shapes the
apprehension of the legal system as a whole, as well as the outline of international
law. As the legal relations beyond the state mark the ultimate margins of the global
order, the system’s openness is on this level particularly conspicuous. In what fol-
lows, I will highlight four particularly significant traits of this openness in both the
legal system and its international dimension in particular.
The four elements share a basic structural logic. Kant’s argumentation constantly
vacillates between opposing ideals. As a result, the position appears hesitant and
inconsistent. Yet in fact, this ambiguity exposes the insufficiency of each ideal and
envisages a dynamic where both visions haunt each other interminably, paving the
way of emancipation. In most concrete terms, Kant’s engaged literature on the right
of mankind reiterates the logic famously explicated in the chapter on the antino-
mies of pure reason of the first Critique.75 This can be observed in the considera-
tions on the relation of law and morality, the principle of publicity, the organization
of the international community, and the notion of cosmopolitan law.

1. Openness of the legal system

a) Law and morality
As noted above, Kant derives law from the moral principle and includes it in the
system of morals. Yet, his model of the legal order is also famous for its radical moral
abstinence, the contention that the required republican order is even feasible for a
‘nation of devils’.76 As law only concerns the external actions, legal universality can
also be achieved where people follow egoistic maxims. They only have to be organ-
ized in a way that neutralizes the selfish motives by turning them against each other.
Kant’s sharp distinction of the concept of right from moral motives led scholars to
claim that the legal philosophy actually does not belong to the moral part of the
system.77 Kant judged differently, not only in the Metaphysics of Morals: only a few
pages after defending the concept of a ‘nation of devils’, the peace essay turns to the

75 Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, pp. 459–​550 (n. 1).

76  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 335 (n. 25).
77  Willaschek, ‘Why the Doctrine of Right Does Not Belong in the Metaphysics of Morals’, (n.
21). The independence of the concept of right from morality is also advocated by Thomas Pogge,
‘Is Kant’s Rechtslehre a “Comprehensive Liberalism”?’, in Mark Timmons (ed.), Kant’s Metaphysics
of Morals: Interpetative Essays (2002). Cf. also the critique of the ‘independence thesis’ as argued by
Julius Ebbinghaus, Klaus Reich, and Georg Geismann in Wolfgang Kersting, Wohlgeordnete Freiheit:
Immanuel Kants Rechts-​und Staatsphilosophie (1993), pp. 136–​42.
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318 Benedict Vischer

critique of the political moralist, passionately dismissing a model that restricts law
to the savvy organization of hopelessly evil people. Elsewhere, he notes the indis-
pensability of prior cultural perfection for a lasting peace.78 Another writing stresses
the necessity of a ‘prepared good will’, and projects the process of being ‘moralized’
as the end of the cosmopolitan order; ‘everything good that is not grafted onto a
morally good disposition, is nothing but mere semblance and glittering misery’, he
insists.79 A further piece, however, points out that the progress can only concern
‘legality’, not ‘morality with regard to intention’.80
Law cannot decree moral perfection. Kant’s account indicates two reasons why
this aim exceeds the scope of law. For one thing, the imposition to follow legal
precepts not out of self-​interest, but for their own sake would suspend the free
will that morality implies and therefore would miss its objective. This is why law is
by definition limited to external action. For another, even with regard to external
action, law’s content does not necessarily coincide with what we recognize as ration-
ally required. Corresponding with the basic idea of Kant’s critical project, he does
not assert any predetermined laws in the structures of the world, but reinterprets
natural law as a criterion of reason whose concretization will always be contested.81
This procedural turn of natural law that embeds legal meaning in societal history
has been fundamental for modern legal thought. It is further pursued by Hegel and
underpins most important theories of the twentieth century such as the approaches
of Rawls, Habermas, and Waldron.82 Positive public rules are necessary because our
views differ.83 Law must also be distinguished from morality to respect this plural-
ity84 and admit of ongoing critique through independent reflection.85
Yet, law cannot be reduced to the arbitrary administration of selfish drives
either. A  legal order strictly confined to incentive and constraint would be sig-
nificantly limited in its stability, efficacy, and justice.86 Moreover, the purpose of

78 Kant, ‘Conjectural Beginning of Human History’, in Anthropology, History, and Education,

pp. 173–​4 (n. 55).
79  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, pp. 114 and 116 (translation modified) (n. 3).
80  Kant, ‘The Conflict of the Faculties’, in Religion and Rational Theology, p. 307 (emphasis omit-
ted) (n. 65).
81  Cf. Wolfgang Kersting, ‘Politics, Freedom, and Order: Kant’s Political Philosophy’, in Paul Guyer
(ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Kant (1992), p. 344.
82  G.W.F. Hegel, ‘Elements of the Philosophy of Right’, ed. Allen W. Wood, trans. H.B. Nisbet
(2011) The subtitle ‘Natural Law and Political Science in Outline’ highlights the claim to redeem
the idea of natural law; John Rawls, The Law of Peoples (1999); Jürgen Habermas, Between Facts and
Norms: Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy, trans. William Rehg (2011); Jeremy
Waldron, Law and Disagreement (1999), p. 3.
83 Cf. Waldron, ‘Kant’s Legal Positivism’ (n. 23); cf. also Samantha Besson, The Morality of
Conflict: Reasonable Disagreement and the Law (2005), esp. the discussion of Kant in ch. 5.
84 Cf. Armin von Bogdandy, ‘Europäische und nationale Identität: Integration durch
Verfassungsrecht?’ in Veröffentlichungen der Vereinigung der Deutschen Staatsrechtslehrer (2003), 156–​
93, p. 160 and pp. 178–​80.
85 Cf. Ingeborg Maus, Zur Aufklärung der Demokratietheorie:  rechts-​und demokratietheoretische
Überlegungen im Anschluss an Kant (1992), pp. 308–​36.
86  Cf. Angehrn, ‘Kant und die gegenwärtige Geschichtsphilosophie’, in Warum Kant heute?, p. 335
(n. 11).
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Kant 319

self-​determination that defines law and accounts for its normativity can be fully
achieved only in moral agency. While regulation must permit the determination by
self-​interest, it must not suppose this to be an unalterable necessity. Otherwise, legal
regulation reinforces the presumed condition and eradicates the space for moral
development.87 Law could not provide a medium to commonly overcome the con-
straints of self-​interest. As regards disagreement on the content of legal rules, the
distinction from individual judgment does not negate the foundation of law in
moral reason. This rational claim bears law’s normative authority and constitutes
an equally essential condition for critique as the differentiation between individual
morality and public law. The moral idea of right offers the reference point to assess
and challenge rules even if they are legally authoritative.
Strict abstention from, as well as full identification with, moral command ulti-
mately prevent law’s critical link to morality. To serve the actualization of moral
reason, law must be related to the idea of moral community, while being kept
distinct from this vanishing point. Law offers a medium to establish the worldly
conditions to commit to moral duty. It adapts the realm of nature to the moral
demands of freedom. Paradoxically, law serves moral progress by also being apt for
devils. This secures a social order that accommodates moral actions independently
of the motives of other subjects, and respects the freedom of individual will deter-
mination. At the same time, it leaves room for the awareness of the disputability
and fallibility of legal determinations and for the exercise of critical reflection. The
moral development furthered by this setting, in turn, strengthens the legal reality,
allows to reduce coercion, and invaluably informs the public struggle to improve
the legal order.
Kant’s ambiguity expresses that it is the division of law and morality through
which they unfold their interdependence. Critically engaging with each other, they
entertain the historical process of self-​determination. Law provides the conditions
to reconcile moral duty with nature and society; moral reflection advances the legal
framework. The progress of law merely increases legality, yet this is also the funda-
ment of realizing morality.88 At no point does the fruitful tension between the two
spheres of normativity come to rest. Only through ongoing interaction can freedom
and justice be actualized. The nexus of individual and collective self-​determination
requires a unity in lively plurality and disagreement. The key to cultivate this eman-
cipatory dynamic is the principle of publicity.

b) The principle of publicity

The concept of the public is a particularly momentous element of Kant’s conception
of the legal order. Kant introduces this central term of modern political thought at
key points of his oeuvre. Elaborating different aspects of the category’s meaning,

87 Cf. Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Formalism, Fragmentation, Freedom: Kantian Themes in Today’s

International Law’, No Foundations 4 (2007), 7–​28.
88  Cf. John Dewey, German Philosophy and Politics (1915), pp. 66–​7.
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320 Benedict Vischer

he unfolds and critically reinterprets the complex semantics of the concept. The
doctrine of right highlights the major significance of publicity for the legal order.
As mentioned above, Kant deviates from the traditional use of the attribute in the
legal context: all law in the civil state is called public law. The treatise on peace also
stresses and further explicates the decisive role of publicity in the determination of
legal rules.
Publicity is put forth as a frame to bind law to the universal will. Empowering
this authority, the public mediates two tensions in the foundation of law: reason
and popularity, as well as freedom and happiness. In the first place, the condition of
publicity makes the formation of rules accessible to everyone’s particular perspec-
tive. This necessitates taking the views of the people into account. Yet, the public
setting in which the popular claims are considered essentially shapes their content.
Everyone is pressured to justify and thus reconsider their own stance in the open
forum of the public. The need of validation in a universal light pushes the discursive
dynamics to the claims of reason. However, as expounded above, reason constrains
the discourse not as an alien force. Reason is actualized through this ongoing social
exchange.
In the same course, publicity promises to merge the establishment of right actu-
alizing freedom with the political quest for happiness. While acknowledging the
accord with public happiness as ‘the proper task of politics’,89 Kant also describes
politics as ‘executing doctrine of right’.90 He asserts that the principle of publicity
can harmonize these seemingly diverging aims. Exposing the determination of law
to the light of the public presses for harmony with the concrete needs and desires
of the society. At the same time, the effective need of universal approval impels
the steady compliance with everyone’s rights while pursuing the common welfare.
A claim of reason, the doctrine of right suffuses the public intercourse. Indeed,
from the public standpoint of the universal will, right and happiness are revealed to
be dependent on each other.
Publicity does not merely allow measuring legislation against a preexisting will.
Rather, the public constitutes the space to form the required judgment. Indeed,
Kant recognizes the public exchange of thoughts as a prerequisite of the ‘freedom
to think’.91 It is the free encounter with others that allows us to attain a rational
standpoint. Publicity enables us to constitute, develop, and enrich our judgment.
The community with others also emotionally widens our experience decisively
for accurate thought.92 In this way, the public provides the context to unfold the
existential meaning of reason, and to acquire a consciousness enabling individual
and collective self-​determination. Accordingly, Kant also promotes publicity as the

89  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 351 (n. 25).

90  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 338 (translation modified) (n. 25).
91  Kant, ‘What Does It Mean to Orient Oneself in Thinking?’, in Religion and Rational Theology,
p. 16 (n. 53).
92  Cf. Immanuel Kant, Notes and Fragments: Logic, Metaphysics, Moral Philosophy, Aesthetics, ed. Paul
Guyer, trans. Curtis Bowman, Paul Guyer, and Frederick Rauscher (2005), p. 498, n. 763: ‘Everything
tastes and pleases better in good company. All of life is amplified in such company. It is indispensable
for thinking people.’
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Kant 321

trigger of enlightenment. The ‘emergence from … self-​incurred immaturity’,93 he

affirms, requires nothing more than the ‘freedom to make public use of one’s reason
in all matters’.94 The universal standpoint of reason is to be sought in the continu-
ous open engagement with others.
Of course, it would be naïve to comprehend publicity as a strict insurance of
compliance with the claims of right and universal happiness. Humans err and
public discourses are distorted by ideologies and manipulation. The beneficence of
publicity seems to presuppose the intellectual independence it is supposed to bring
about. Kant’s writings prove that he was well aware of this precarious predicament.
His account of enlightenment starts with the reluctance and ineptitude of a public
used to subjection. First trials of public freedom will fail, evoke resistance, and
increase fear. Yet, he holds the confidence that the public use of reason triggers a
slow, but determinate tendency toward actual free judgment, ‘a true reform in the
mode of thinking’.95 Justifying our views in front of the society, anticipating and
hearing diverging perspectives and experiencing the good of a common standpoint
pushes our reflection steadily in an emancipatory direction. This enlightenment of
judgment, in turn, conduces to the enhancement of the public framework.96 Once
more, Kant puts his trust in a dialectical dynamic. And again, the promoted trust is
itself a basis to make the prospect true.
Kant’s discovery of publicity has inspired some of the most fruitful readings of
Kant in recent political philosophy. Diverse accounts have pointed out the far-​
reaching consequences of the notion and tracked significant traces of the idea in
other parts of Kant’s work. Jürgen Habermas exposed Kant’s fundamental role for
the exploration of the concept in his seminal book on The Structural Transformation
of the Public Sphere. It is in this context that Habermas, based on a thorough
examination of the pertinent texts, revealed the ultimately ‘system-​exploding con-
sequences’ of Kant’s corresponding reflections.97 Publicity shifts from a merely
nature-​based to a self-​constitutive sphere of mediation of politics and morality in
the empirical reality of society. Hannah Arendt also highlighted publicity as ‘one
of the key concepts of Kant’s political thinking’.98 Holding a fairly low opinion of
Kant’s explicitly political writings,99 she extrapolated and praised corresponding
intuitions in the Critique of Judgment, in which she located the rudiments of Kant’s
missing political philosophy.100 Arendt’s reading revolves around the observation
that Kant explicates judgment in this major work not as a mere application of
rules, but as a capacity based on the worldly community with others. Kant reveals

93  Kant, ‘An Answer to the Question:  What Is Enlightenment?’, in Practical Philosophy, p.  17
(emphasis omitted) (n. 74).
94  Kant, ‘An Answer to the Question: What Is Enlightenment?’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 18 (n. 74).
95  Kant, ‘An Answer to the Question:  What Is Enlightenment?’, in Practical Philosophy, p.  18
(translation modified) (n. 74).
96  Kant, ‘An Answer to the Question: What Is Enlightenment?’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 22 (n. 74).
97 Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, p. 116 (n. 46).
98 Arendt, Lectures on Kant’s Political Philosophy, p. 18 (n. 5).
99 Arendt, Lectures on Kant’s Political Philosophy, pp. 7–​8 (n. 5).
100  Cf. Arendt, Lectures on Kant’s Political Philosophy, p. 9 (n. 5).
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322 Benedict Vischer

the meaning of politics by exposing beyond individual rule-​following and physical
dependence upon others a distinct sociality springing from the human mind. In a
further important yet again very different strand of reception, Christine Korsgaard
found the idea of publicity also implied in Kant’s moral philosophy. Taking up
Wittgenstein’s argument of private language she defends the Kantian standpoint
with the argument that reasons are inherently public. Thus, universality is implied
in the practice of reason-​giving because and in so far as they refer to the perspectives
of everyone else.101

2. Openness of international law
a) World federation vs. world state
Kant’s dithering with respect to the postulated shape of the world order is especially
notorious. Throughout his reflections on international law, he vacillates between
the model of a world state and a world federation. It is irritating that despite Kant’s
systematic genius, the intensive consideration of the topic, and its high significance
for both the philosophical system and the cosmopolitan political project he is not
clear about this point.
Many efforts have been undertaken to come to terms with this ambiguity. A
recent careful examination of the pertinent works assumes a change of opinion
behind the seeming contradiction.102 It is probable, of course, that Kant’s politi-
cal ideas and expectations changed in the course of decades, also with respect to
the international realm. Especially the experience of the French Revolution might
have impacted his view on the legal development. Yet the oscillation between an
actual state and a loose federation on the global level cannot only be observed when
comparing writings from different periods. Also within the single writings, the ideal
remains consistently vague and ambiguous. In Idea for a Universal History with a
Cosmopolitan Aim, for example, Kant describes the ideal on few pages as a ‘fed-
eration of nations’ referring to the loose model of the ‘Foedus Amphictyonum’,103
and as a ‘future large state body’.104 Other formulations postulate more vaguely ‘a
united might, and […] the decision according to laws of the united will’,105 and

101  Christine M. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity (1996), pp. 131–​66; Christine M. Korsgaard,
Self-​
Constitution: Agency, Identity, and Integrity (2009), pp. 177–​ 214; Christine M. Korsgaard,
interviewed by Herlinde Pauer-​Studer, ‘Christine M. Korsgaard: Internalism and the Sources of
Normativity’, in Herlinde Pauer-​Studer (ed.), Constructions of Practical Reason: Interviews on Moral and
Political Philosophy (2003).
102 Kleingeld, Kant and Cosmopolitanism, pp. 40–​71 (n. 10).
103  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 114 (emphasis omitted) (n. 3).
104  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 118 (n. 3).
105  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 114 (translation modified) (n. 3).
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Kant 323

envisage a condition ‘resembling a civil commonwealth’.106 The pertinent writings

from other periods waver similarly on that point.107
Thus, the ambiguity not only reflects a changing mind. Apparently, Kant at no
point propounded a clear conclusive vision. The constancy of vague descriptions
changing sometimes in the same passage from more unitary to more pluralistic
anticipations indicate that Kant exposed this tension deliberately. Neither on the
domestic nor on the international level does the idea of the cosmopolitan system
provide a ready-​made plan for legislation.108 Its emancipatory potency lies precisely
in the dialectical oscillation between contrasting directions.109
In principle, reason clearly claims a unitary global order with universal coercive
force. ‘In accordance with reason there is only one way that states in relation with
one another can leave the lawless condition, which involves nothing but war; it is
that, like individual human beings, they give up their savage (lawless) freedom,
accommodate themselves to public coercive laws, and so form an (always growing)
state of nations (civitas gentium) that would finally encompass all the nations of the
earth.’110 Only a civil state can really end the international state of nature, install
globally the rule of the universal will of the people and secure the right of every
individual that defines Kant’s concept of law.111 In this respect, the cosmopolitan
aim and in particular cosmopolitan law point to an integrated world order, a cos-
mopolis. In order to be bound by law, states must be subjected to a higher authority.
Such an overarching power constitutes an essential conclusive element to the public
system of law.112
In spite of this conceptual demand, Kant affirms a looser federation. The vig-
orous defender of reason’s claim shows a surprising readiness to adjust the idea
in light of the existing political configuration. The federation is ‘the negative sur-
rogate’ that replaces ‘the positive idea of a world republic’ because the peoples ‘do
not at all want this, thus rejecting in hypothesi what is correct in thesi’.113 A global
state, he contends, is ruled out by the concept of a ‘law of peoples’ because this
formula presumes peoples and thus states in plural.114 Kant does not promote the
loose arrangement due to its flawlessness. He even denies the actual rule of law in
the federation: it ‘is of itself already a state of war’, only restrained from violence

106  Kant, ‘Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Aim’, in Anthropology, History, and
Education, p. 115 (emphasis added) (n. 3).
107  Cf. Kant, ‘On the Common Saying’, in Practical Philosophy, pp. 307, 309 (n. 52); Kant, ‘Toward
Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, pp. 326, 328, 336 (n. 25); Kant, ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’,
in Practical Philosophy, pp. 487–​8, 491 (n. 14).
108  Cf. Jaspers, ‘Kant’s “Perpetual Peace” ’, in Philosophy and the World, pp. 113–​15 (n. 11).
109 Cf. Angehrn, ‘Kant und die gegenwärtige Geschichtsphilosophie’, in Warum Kant heute?,
pp. 337–​9 (n. 11).
110  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 328 (n. 25).
111  Cf. Jürgen Habermas, ‘Kant’s Idea of Perpetual Peace, with the Benefit of Two Hundred Years’
Hindsight’, in James Bohman and Matthias Lutz-​Bachmann (eds.), Perpetual Peace: Essays on Kant’s
Cosmopolitan Ideal (1997), p. 128.
112  Cf. Wolfgang Kersting, Wohlgeordnete Freiheit:  Immanuel Kants Rechts-​und Staatsphilosophie
(1993), p. 76.
113  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 328 (n. 25).
114  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 326 (n. 25).
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324 Benedict Vischer

through the federal framework. But this is, Kant argues, still better than ‘a universal
monarchy’ that would extinguish freedom in ‘a soulless despotism’.115
Belying the prejudice of rationalistic unworldliness, Kant’s modifications of the
immediate claim show great pragmatic sense. This pragmatism is, however, not a
limitation of the appeal to reason; the moderation is immanent to the very idea.
Taken as an abstract ideal, the vision of the global state ultimately perverts into its
opposite. Ignoring the concrete plurality of peoples, the cosmopolitan state would
be a detached institution. Its purported universality would conceal excluded claims.
It could not integrate the multiple cultural contexts of human self-​realization, pro-
mote the diversity implied by individual and collective freedom, and acknowledge
the plurality of the popular voice. Lacking the determinacy of a distinct society, it
could not unite society in a common project, but only administer social relations
as a remote power. The cosmopolitan enterprise, as Kant warns, would turn into
exclusionary domination and eventually break up into anarchy.116
That is why Kant equates the global state with a despotic monarchy. A republican
order seeking equal freedom and the good life of all cannot pass over existing plu-
rality. It must be an expression of the concrete shape and will of the people. Such
respect for the genuine claims of the people is implied in the cosmopolitan idea.
The basic vision of a global political union is actualized through the continuous
inclusion of everyone’s perspective. This explains Kant’s readiness to modify the
initial idea in light of the peoples’ rejection of the world state. It is necessitated by
the very idea’s actualization. As a general, abstract rule—​‘in thesi’ —​the idea claims
a global state. In its concrete realization—​‘in hypothesi’—​this claim for universality
is determined by the regard for the actual will of the peoples.117 The implications of
real universality also warrant Kant’s care to uphold the premise of a multiplicity of
peoples. The reference to the plurality implied in the concept of a law of peoples is
not made out of fixation on the literal meaning of the term, but because it consti-
tutes a fact the pursuit of inclusion must reflect.
True universality cannot be established as an abstract ideal in neglect of plurality.
It must concretely involve the other in its diversity. This cannot be accomplished
once and for all, but requires an ongoing historical process. Continually, the global
order must remain open for new, excluded, unheard claims. In other words: the idea
is to be actualized in a practice of infinite approximation. Nonetheless, this plural-
istic pursuit must remain connected to the postulate of cosmopolitan union. It is
this postulate that pushes for mutual recognition and association with the other,
the constant search of the excluded, and the effort to subject all human relations
under an ever more stable rule of law. The history of cosmopolitan emancipation
is triggered by the idea of a union pointing to plurality and a plurality directing to

115  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 336 (translation modified) (n. 25).
116  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 336 (n. 25).
117  Cf. on the meaning of the distinction ‘in thesi… in hypothesi’ Immanuel Kant, Handschriftlicher
Nachlaß: Metaphysik, 2. Theil, vol. 18, Kant’s Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Erich Adickes (1967), n.
5695, pp. 328–​9; Immanuel Kant, Vorlesungen über Metaphysik und Rationaltheologie, vol. 28, 1, Kant’s
Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Gerhard Lehmann (1968), p. 407.
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Kant 325

unification. Legally, this is not least reflected in the combination of international

and cosmopolitan law.

b) Cosmopolitan law
Cosmopolitan law constitutes an essential dimension of the depicted legal order.
It forms one of three parts, and it represents—​as its designation reveals—​in some
way the conclusive and most characteristic component of the cosmopolitan sys-
tem: individual rights on the global level. Kant stresses the indispensability of this
portion of the public legal order. He further underlines that it does not only consti-
tute a sphere of philanthropy, but of actual right.118 Thus, the idea of cosmopolitan
law indeed affirms a legal position of the individual beyond the state. This suggests
the existence of institutional conditions to enforce rights on that level.
However, the content Kant attributes to this body of law is remarkably restricted:
‘The cosmopolitan law shall be limited to conditions of universal hospitality.’119 The
revolutionary turn to worldwide rights is immediately confined to a weak hospital-
ity claim which Kant explicates as ‘the right of a foreigner not to be treated with
hostility because he has arrived on the land of another’.120 He also clarifies that
it is ‘not the right to be a guest […], but the right to visit’, leaving further rights
dependent on contractual agreements.121 Hence, Kant’s cosmopolitan law is far
from proclaiming a firm catalogue of human rights or even a world constitution.
It only asserts in a rather moral than legal tone a minimal guarantee of peaceful
intercourse, and explicitly presumes the ongoing asymmetry of host and visitor.
All this implies that—​despite the assertion of the legal quality of cosmopolitan
law—​the global order is conceived as a plurality of states. However, the text is again
strikingly ambiguous: in spite of cosmopolitan law’s distance from a constitutional
setting, Kant asserts that it serves to approach a ‘cosmopolitan constitution’. The
formulations also alternate between constellations implying multiple peoples and
mere interactions among individuals.
The tensions display historicity afresh in a double sense: they reflect the regard
for the concrete challenges of Kant’s time and expose structurally the historical,
system-​bursting structure of cosmopolitan law. With the right to visit Kant pro-
claims a pragmatic path for the radical step of concretely recognizing an original
equality and unalienable legal standing of every human being. The precondition
for a stranger’s rejection that ‘this can be done without destroying him’122 is a
demand whose full actualization is—​as the current situation at borders throughout
the world harrowingly exposes—​still wanting. Kant’s arguments for limiting the
right reveal that the restrictions are primarily motivated by the concern that the
right might likely be abused for colonial purposes.123 The law of hospitality aims

118  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 328 (n. 25).

119  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 328 (translation modified) (n. 25).
120  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, pp. 328–​9 (n. 25).
121 Ibid. 122 Ibid.
123 Cf. Ingeborg Maus, ‘From Nation-​State to Global State, or the Decline of Democracy’,
Constellations 13 (2006), 471–​2.
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326 Benedict Vischer

at a middle way between cementing privileges ‘uti possidetis’ and unleashing an
exploitative mobility. Slightly, but fundamentally it pierces the walls of separated
communities. The enabled intercourse is moderate, but its restricted shape is set up
precisely to initiate a subtle dynamic toward the most revolutionary aspiration of a
cosmopolitan constitution.
Apart from this mindful attention for given circumstances, the balanced charac-
ter of the conception has also a structural dimension. Cosmopolitan law is essen-
tially a law of borders.124 To be sure, it is supposed to ensure a universal legal status
of the individual beyond and independent of state borders. Yet this universality
cannot simply be provided through a set of rules on the global level. Every distinct
legal body, even if it had a worldwide scope, implies by its very determinacy a limit
that excludes and conceals claims. Universal recognition beyond borders requires
therefore an unending activity of border crossing.
This elucidates why the description of cosmopolitan law is so deeply shaped by
the condition of boundaries. This condition is not only evoked through the constel-
lation of separated territories and the asymmetry of host and guest. It is also implied
in the ambiguous status of cosmopolitan law between an enforceable law and a
moral demand, as well as by its vague content between a narrow ‘natural right’ and a
further reaching reference to contracts and philanthropy.125 These traits express the
genuine claim of cosmopolitan law: it exposes the constant need of every legal order
to be opened up for its other, the beyond of its boundaries, for excluded claims that
have not yet been perceived. Cosmopolitan law asserts such incessant questioning
of the order’s limits as a demand within law. Qualified as distinctly ‘cosmopolitan’
and pointing toward a cosmopolitan constitution, this dimension of law promises
to trigger the infinite course of global emancipation.
Yet, leading beyond existing orders its force is also eminently precarious. On the
one hand, the scope of law is restricted; much care remains dependent upon the
existence of philanthropy. But even as far as the claim is construed as law it lacks an
enforcing cosmopolitan authority. It can only be backed up institutionally within
the legal orders it surpasses. The transcending character is associated with a distinc-
tive weakness. A strange medium between law and morality, a moral excess within
law, cosmopolitan right constitutes an incorruptible, yet ever uncertain element
of law.
Not least against the background of the tremendous contemporary challenges of
migration, different philosophers have emphasized the significance of Kant’s cos-
mopolitan law. Jacques Derrida has examined its logic meticulously in various stud-
ies. His considerations centre on the fragile constellation of hospitality implying on
the one hand an unconditional and incalculable openness for the other, on the other
hand the unequal property, authority, and restricting rules of a home.126 Derrida
acknowledges the importance of qualifying hospitality as a law and points out how

124  Cf. Benhabib, Another Cosmopolitanism, p. 22 (n. 18).

125  Kant, ‘Toward Perpetual Peace’, in Practical Philosophy, p. 329 (n. 25).
126  Jacques Derrida, ‘HOSTIPITALITY’, Angelaki 5, (2000), 3–​18.
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Kant 327

far away we still are from redeeming Kant’s claim.127 Yet, contrasting Kant with
Levinas, he also points out the ambivalence of the juridical comprehension: the
affirmation of the legal, not merely charitable nature of the claim is bound up with
its restriction.128 Nevertheless, Derrida underscores an ‘implosion’ in the concept
of hospitality that at all times leads beyond set rules.129 The political Kant puts
forward ‘is always inadequate to itself ’.130 This inadequacy is particularly present in
the cosmopolitan right of hospitality that—​oscillating between a limited right and
an infinite claim of the other131—​pushes into a never conclusively attainable time
‘to come [à venir]’.132
Following Derrida, Seyla Benhabib elaborated further on the peculiar status of
cosmopolitan law, developing on this basis her seminal concept of ‘democratic iter-
ations’. She particularly highlights the distinct normative quality of cosmopolitan
right establishing—​on a theoretical basis beyond natural law and legal positivism—​
a third kind of obligation between moral and juridical claims.133 Regulating the
relations with persons across the boundaries of instituted political communities,
cosmopolitan norms claim from beyond polities their juridical actualization within
them; ‘they create a universe of meaning, values, and social relations that had not
existed before by changing the normative constituents and evaluative principles of
the world of “objective spirit” ’.134 Thus, they provide external criteria to question
and advance the ineluctably limited legal orders.
The concluding, overarching ‘cosmopolitan’ layer of Kant’s legal system pierces
the boundaries of orders and provides the individual—​ultimate representative of
plurality—​with a tool to express claims that have not yet been taken into account.
One last time, Kant asserts the ideas of a global system, a cosmopolitan order, and
an encompassing rule of law. Once again, he portrays this cosmopolitan system of
law as the venue of an infinite, incalculable and fragile, yet obstinately hopeful his-
tory of emancipation.

V. Conclusion

At the core of Kant’s definition of the concept of right lies the claim of universality.
Law ought to bring universality into the world. It is this inner claim that implies

127  Jacques Derrida, ‘On Cosmopolitanism’, in On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness, trans. Mark
Dooley and Michael Hughes (2001), p. 11.
128  Jacques Derrida, Adieu to Emmanuel Levinas, trans. Pascale-​Anne Brault and Michael Naas
(1999), pp. 87–​ 101; cf. also Jacques Derrida and Anne Dufourmantelle, Of Hospitality:  Anne
Dufourmantelle Invites Jacques Derrida to Respond, trans. Rachel Bowlby (2000), pp. 69–​83.
129  Derrida, ‘HOSTIPITALITY’, Angelaki 5 (2000), 3–​18, at 5 (n. 126).
130 Derrida, Adieu to Emmanuel Levinas, p. 97 (n. 128).
131 Derrida and Dufourmantelle, Of Hospitality: Anne Dufourmantelle Invites Jacques Derrida
to Respond, pp. 75–​83 (n. 128); cf. also Jacques Derrida, ‘The Principle of Hospitality’, Parallax 11
(2005): pp. 6–​9.
132  Derrida, ‘HOSTIPITALITY’, Angelaki 5 (2000), 3–​18, at 14 (n. 126).
133 Benhabib, Another Cosmopolitanism, pp. 20–​5 (n. 18).
134 Benhabib, Another Cosmopolitanism, p. 72 (n. 18).
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328 Benedict Vischer

a system of rules, requires their public determination, and points beyond national
borders to a cosmopolitan frame. This same claim accounts for the singular struc-
ture of the global legal system. As beings endowed with finite reason, we cannot
actualize universality once and for all. The idea embodied in the system is an infinite
endeavour, pushing us to constantly question and transcend settled orders, opening
up the historical tendency towards a utopian future that exceeds our anticipations.
Accordingly, Kant was conscious that neither a philosopher nor a lawyer can
conclusively determine the perfect legal system. Its shape has to be sought in the
historical course of society. Yet the scholar can record the structure of the idea.
This is what Kant’s account of the system presents: he reconstructs the underlying
demand of reason, the need of common concretization, the emancipatory direc-
tion, and the system-​exploding openness. In this way, he at the same time asserts
the authority of law as it is publicly determined and shows that by its inner logic
it ushers beyond itself. While explicating this structure, Kant is committed to the
theorist’s public role he locates therein. From his distinct historical standpoint, he
explores with a pragmatic sense the real utopian perspectives harboured in law.135
He promotes the confidence in the promise of law and endeavours to excite the
public for the modality of future. All these aspects give Kant’s conception of the
international legal system its irritating shape. They expose the idea of the system as
a correlate of freedom. What irritates is, in fact, the emancipatory irritation of law.

Selected Bibliography
Bohman, James and Lutz-​Bachmann, Matthias (eds.), Perpetual Peace:  Essays on Kant’s
Cosmopolitan Ideal (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1997).
Kersting, Wolfgang, ‘Politics, Freedom, and Order: Kant’s Political Philosophy’, in Paul
Guyer (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Kant (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1992), pp. 342–​66.
Jaspers, Karl, ‘Kant’s “Perpetual Peace” ’, in Philosophy and the World: Selected Writings and
Essays, trans. E.B. Ashton (Washington DC: Regnery Publishing, 1963), pp. 88–​124.
Kleingeld, Pauline, Kant and Cosmopolitanism: The Philosophical Ideal of World Citizenship
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
Koskenniemi, Martti, ‘Constitutionalism as Mindset: Reflections on Kantian Themes about
International Law and Globalization’, Theoretical Inquiries in Law 8(1) (2007), 9–​36.

135  Cf. on the ‘realistically utopian’ dimension of Kant’s conception Rawls, The Law of Peoples (n.
82). Rawls proposes on the basis of Kant’s conception an own ‘realistic utopia’ of the international legal
order. Rawls’ ahistorical understanding of a ‘realistic utopia’ seems, however, decidedly less utopian
(and thus, Kant might say, less realistic) than the project of his spiritus rector (cf. Rawls, The Law of
Peoples, pp. 11–​23 (n. 82)).
 329

16
Fichte and the Echo of his Internationalist
Thinking in Romanticism
Carla De Pascale

I.  The Early Fichte as the Heir of the Pacifist-​Cosmopolitan

Tradition

To gain a general understanding of Fichte’s thought, it is important to bear in mind

that, at the onset of his intellectual career, he engaged in a full-​on conflict with the
counter-​revolutionary A.W. Rehberg.1 At that time, Fichte was about to tackle
Kant’s critical philosophy and had not yet himself embarked on his own research in
the field of theoretical philosophy. Already there, Fichte explicitly condemns war as
an instrument of the power of sovereigns and as something that not only deceived,
but also damaged the populations involved.2
Fichte was to follow in the wake of the pacifist-​cosmopolitan tradition for several
years. In the introduction to the Grundlage des Naturrechts (1796/​97), his principal
work of politico-​juridical theory, he specifies the difference to the utopian traits
of pre-​Kantian politico-​juridical philosophy. Kant had already drawn attention to
the rationality of his own position–​and therefore Fichte himself would do so to an
even greater extent. If the Abbé de Saint-​Pierre and ultimately Rousseau himself
had proved that they considered perpetual peace to be an idea as stimulating as
it was unattainable, the achievement of the two German philosophers consisted
in demonstrating the necessity of peace, in that it is an idea produced by reason.3
In 1796, Fichte had already published a review of Zum ewigen Frieden,4 without,

1 Fichte’s Beitrag argued against Rehberg’s Untersuchungen über die französische Revolution. See
Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Beitrag zur Berichtigung der Urtheile des Publikums über die französischen
Revolution’, in Werke 1791-​1794 (1964), I, vol. 1, J.-​G.-​Fichte-​Gesamtausgabe der Bayerischen
Akademie der Wissenschaften (henceforth Gesamtausgabe); August Wilhelm Rehberg, Untersuchungen
über die französische Revolution (1793).
2  Fichte, ‘Beitrag’, in Werke 1791-​1794 (n. 1), p. 244. See Manfred Buhr and Domenico Losurdo,
Fichte, die französische Revolution und das Ideal vom ewigen Frieden (1991).
3 Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Grundlage des Naturrechts nach Principien der Wissenschaftslehre’
(henceforth Naturrecht), in Werke 1794-​1796 (1966), I, vol. 3, Gesamtausgabe, p. 323.
4  Fichte, ‘[Rezension:] Zum ewigen Frieden. Ein philosophischer Entwurf von Immanuel Kant’, in
Werke 1794-​1796 (n. 3), pp. 221–8.

Fichte and the Echo of his Internationalist Thinking in Romanticism. Carla De Pascale. © Carla De
Pascale, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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330 Carla De Pascale

moreover, refraining from specific criticisms. In the introduction to his Naturrecht,
he returned to Kant’s text, albeit pointing out how he himself had arrived at certain
conclusions before reading Kant.5
The influence of Kant is proved by the second appendix to the Naturrecht, enti-
tled Grundriss des Völker-​und Weltbürgerrechts.6 Kant’s legacy is in any case already
manifest in the titles of the two parts that make up the appendix, and which put
forward once again the content of the second and the third ‘definitive article’ of
Kant’s Zum ewigen Frieden. Fichte followed a personal trajectory in developing his
thoughts on the theme of international relations. This is clearly observable only if
we look at the overarching parallel Fichte established between the treatment of the
internal law of a state and that of the law regulating relationships between states
(the contents of this latter theme being indeed considered as an ‘appendix’ to the
principal part of the work). Within this parallel, furthermore, there are two main
foci of analysis: the concept of right, which constitutes the foundation of both
approaches, and the role of the state as the exclusive element of mediation both
in the (juridical) relationships between the citizens of one particular state, and in
those between citizens belonging to different states. This depends on the fact that
the concept of law finds its full actuation only within the state. On the other hand,
Fichte shows no uncertainty about the fact that the concept of state is an abstract
concept; one, in other words, to which we should certainly direct our reasoning,
albeit without losing sight of the fact that real relationships do not actually occur
between different state institutions, but between the citizens of different states—​
and in the first instance between citizens of bordering states.7
The necessity for law arises when at least two individuals enter into reciprocal
contact. This implies, first of all, that they should ‘know each other’ and then that
they ‘should recognize each other’ in their juridical personalities (Fichte anticipated
Hegel in developing the concept of recognition).8 Fichte now applied the same

5  Faustino Oncina Coves, ‘Para la Paz Perpetua de Kant y el Fundamento del derecho natural de
Fichte: encuentros y desencuentros’, Λαίμων, Revista de Filosofía 9 (1994), 223–​339; Jean-​Christophe
Merle, ‘La réception du Projet de paix perpétuelle par Fichte: La critique de Kant prisonnier du droit
de gens’, in Hoke Robinson (ed.), Proceedings of the Eighth International Kant Congress (1995), vol. II,
part 2, pp. 893–​900; Claudio Cesa, ‘Recensori di Kant: Fichte e Schlegel’, in Teoria politica, vol. XI
(1995), 33–45.
6  Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798 (1970), I, vol. 4, Gesamtausgabe, pp.
151–​65; see Carla De Pascale, ‘Das Völkerrecht (Zweiter Anhang)’, in Jean-​Christophe Merle (ed.),
Johann Gottlieb Fichte, Grundlage des Naturrechts, (2nd edn, 2016), pp. 179–​91. On the subject of
international relations in Fichte see Richard Schottky, ‘Internationale Beziehungen als ethisches und
juridisches Problem bei Fichte’, in Klaus Hammacher (ed.), Der transzendentale Gedanke (1981), pp.
250–​77; Kosmopolitismus und Nationalidee, Fichte-​Studien 2 (1990); both of which contain a bibliogra-
phy; see also Georges Vlachos, Fédéralisme et raison d’état dans la pensée internationale de Fichte (1948).
7  This gives an indication for a definition of the law of peoples (Völkerrecht): ‘The state itself is
nothing but an abstract conception; only the citizens, as such, are actual persons.’ See Johann Gottlieb
Fichte, The Science of Rights, trans. Adolph Ernst Kroeger (1970), p. 475.
8  ‘The relationship of free beings to each other is thus the relationship of an interaction through
intellect and freedom. Neither can recognize the other, if not both recognize each other mutually.’
(editor’s translation). In German, it reads: ‘Das Verhältniß freier Wesen zu einander ist daher das
Verhältniß einer Wechselwirkung durch Intelligenz und Freiheit. Keines kann das andere anerkennen,
wenn nicht beide sich gegenseitig anerkennen […]’; see Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1794-​1796 (n.
3), p. 351; to understand the concept of ‘recognition’, however, it is necessary to bear in mind all of
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Fichte 331

mechanism to relationships between states.9 In this passage, again, the influence

of Kant is evident: his reasoning opens with the presentation of two alternative
routes for inter-​state relationships with a view to a possible fusion, both of which
are derived from Kant. The first route envisages the progressive formation of a
single world state: a result that is judged by Fichte (as indeed it had been by Kant)
to be dangerous rather than desirable, on account of its potentially totalitarian fea-
tures; the second route envisages a series of successive alliances, initially stipulated
between bordering states and progressively expanded towards the ultimate estab-
lishment of a single confederation of states.10 This latter option is preferred by both
philosophers.11 The truly significant element, however, is not merely that he agrees
with Kant on this point. Rather, it is the idea, clearly set out by Fichte before any
other issue is dealt with, that the formation of the state is the effect of a command
deriving both from nature and reason (it should also be noted how in this case
nature and reason are most certainly not in opposing camps).12
Fichte therefore turns his attention right from the start to the relationship
between two bordering states and to the first germs of an alliance between them.

the first four paragraphs of the work: see Wolfgang Janke, ‘Fichtes Grundlegung des Rechtsgrundes’,
Kant-​Studien 82, (1991), 197–​218; Michael Kahlo et al. (eds.), Fichtes Lehre vom Rechtsverhältnis. Die
Deduktion der §§ 1-​4 der ‘Grundlage des Naturrechts’ und ihre Stellung in der Rechtsphilosophie (1992);
Ingeborg Schüssler, ‘Die Deduktion des Begriffs des Rechts aus Prinzipien der Wissenschaftslehre’,
Fichte-​Studien 11 (1997), 23–​40; Heikki Ikäheimo, ‘Fichte on Recognizing Potential Person’, and
the relative ‘Kommentar’ by Carla De Pascale, in Kurt Seelmann and Benno Zabel (eds.), Autonomie
und Normativität (2014), pp. 44–​68. For a comparison between Fichte and Hegel on this theme,
see Andreas Wildt, ‘Recht und Selbstachtung, im Anschluß an die Anerkennungslehren von Fichte
und Hegel’, in Fichtes Lehre vom Rechtsverhältnis, pp. 127–​72 (n. 8). On recognition in Hegel, see
Ludwig Siep, Anerkennung als Prinzip der praktischen Philosophie. Untersuchungen zu Hegels Jenaer
Philosophie des Geistes (1970); Axel Honneth, Kampf um Anerkennung. Zur moralischen Grammatik
sozialer Konflikte (1994), and also Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Enzyklopädie der philosophischen
Wissenschaften im Grundrisse (1830), §§ 430–​5.
9  § 3 of the Anhang states: ‘[…] since the possibility of a legal relation is conditioned, as we have
seen, by actual and conscious reciprocal influence.’ See Fichte, The Science of Rights, p. 474 (n. 7); see
also corollary 3) at § 4 (Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798, pp. 152, 153 (n. 6)).
10  See Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798, §§ 1, 4 corollary 1), 16) (n. 6).
11  Kant had dealt with this issue not only in Zum ewigen Frieden, but also in Über den Gemeinspruch.
12  See Fichte, The Science of Rights, p. 474 (n. 7): ‘It is a proof that the state is not an arbitrary inven-
tion, but is established by nature and reason.’ Here, the complexity of the meaning of the term ‘nature’
emerges clearly: ‘rational nature’ is the first meaning; a second meaning of nature refers to the condi-
tion in which relationships between men are not regulated by civil law, with the consequent opposition
between ‘state of nature’ and ‘civil state’. It is precisely in the idealistic philosophies that the element of
continuity between Naturrecht (nature law) and Staatsrecht (constitutional law), already part of the con-
tractualistic doctrines of the modern age, is emphasized, as may be observable in the subtitle of Georg
Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel’s Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts: oder Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft
im Grundrisse, and even before that in the following assumption by Fichte, The Science of Rights, p. 201
(n. 7): ‘Hence, Natural Law […] between men, is not possible at all except in a commonwealth and
under positive laws.’ This was repeated even more incisively fifteen years later: law, that is constitutional
law (‘Recht  =  Staatsrecht’) (Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Rechtslehre 1812’, in Nachgelassene Schriften
1812 (2002), II, vol. 13, Gesamtausgabe, p. 200). See also Fichte, ‘Rechtslehre 1812’, in Nachgelassene
Schriften 1812, p. 200 (n. 12), with regard to the opposition in the following statements: ‘natural
law, that is legality beyond the state, does not exist’; nature is understood here as laws of reason, see
Fichte, ‘Rechtslehre 1812’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1812, p. 199 (n. 12); ‘Law of nature is a conflict
of freedom in infinity’, see Fichte, ‘Rechtslehre 1812’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1812, p. 198 (n. 12).
32

332 Carla De Pascale

This is nothing more than one of the many possible forms of contract: without
curtailing the autonomy of the juridical system internal to each state, the allied
states guarantee their citizens their respective rights of property. They recognize, in
other words, the boundaries that delimit their respective territories and their rela-
tive resources (they recognize first and foremost the boundaries drawn on the land,
but there follows also the recognition of certain rights, such as the right to fish and
hunt, navigation and mining rights, etc.).13
The alliance Fichte proposes is a sort of intermediate solution, based on the con-
sideration that in relationships between states there is no superior judge capable
of performing the role of judge and at the same time that of arbiter, which, in
national law, is performed by the sovereign for citizens potentially in conflict with
one another.14 On the other hand, it would be a decidedly risky option to entrust
the fate of relationships between states to mere ‘natural right’.15 In the latter case, it
would not be possible to take any further steps than a regulation of the ‘law of war’,
analogous to that already present in seventeenth-​century treatises. Fichte felt that
the modern age, aspiring to a long-​lasting peace, required that research of a com-
pletely different type should be undertaken.16 The awareness of such a precarious
situation is already detectable in the scarcity of arguments contained in the treaty of
alliance between neighbouring states, as well as in the scarcely incisive role assigned
to envoys. It stands out even more starkly in the many doubt-​filled questions on the
plausibility itself of the concept of just war,17 which the later Fichte would again
ponder at length.

13  This is perfectly in line with §§ 18–19 of the part on internal law, see Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’ in
Werke 1797-​1798, pp. 20–​58 (n. 6), that says that the contract on which the birth of a state is founded
is in turn founded on a contract—​and on the relative concept—​of property. This gives important
insights into the concept of property in Fichte; it is unique within the German landscape of related
doctrines. Fichte insists on identifying property not with the possession of goods, but with the quan-
tity of activities carried out by man on raw matter and conducive to its transformation; labour is, in
this context, the most significant among these actions, of which man is responsible in the first person,
becoming the actual owner of its effects. In § 19, mentioned above, Fichte briefly outlines his economic
theory, which he later describes in detail in other works. This concept is close to the notion of property
elaborated by Locke. See Reinhard Brandt, Eigentumstheorien von Grotius bis Kant (1974); Reinhard
Brandt, ‘John Locke’, in Otfried Höffe (ed.), Von den Vorsokratikern bis David Hume, vol. 1, Klassiker
der Philosophie (1985), pp. 360–​77.
14  This is the main difference with respect to the internal law of the state. See Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’ in
Werke 1797-​1798, § 17, pp. 5–​20 (n. 6). This envisages precisely the capacity on the part of the (future)
citizens to conclude a pact with the state, thanks to which both their work and the results deriving
from this work may be ‘recognized’. These results are their property, for the defence of which another
contract, called a ‘protection’ contract, comes into play.
15 A  similar concern is evident in the concluding paragraphs (§§ 330–​40) of Georg Wilhelm
Friedrich Hegel, Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts, vol. 7, Werke in zwanzig Bänden (1970), pp.
499 ff.
16  This does not mean that Fichte is anything less than scrupulous in dealing with this theme,
defining in a very precise manner the ways in which a war should be conducted. In his conception the
right to war (Recht zum Kriege) depends on, first, a ‘Verweigerung der Anerkennung’ on the part of
the neighbouring state, as the right to recognition is a ‘Zwangsrecht’ (see Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’ in Werke
1794-​1796, § 6, pp. 365–​83 (n. 3)), and second, a violation of the previously mentioned contract
between two bordering states (see Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’ in Werke 1794-​1796, § 12, pp. 410–​23 (n. 3)).
17  Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’ in Werke 1794-​1796, § 15, pp. 430–​2 (n. 3).
 3

Fichte 333

It should also be added that when the right of war is ‘valid’, it is ‘infinite’, exactly
like any right of coercion—a fact that Kant had been forced to recognize.18 In theory,
this means it is possible never to stop pursuing the objective of destroying an enemy
state until the complete submission of its citizens has been obtained.19 However,
as we have already seen, war itself has (or ought to have) its own laws, which Fichte
describes with the same degree of precision as that traditionally employed by the
treatises specifically dealing with this subject. The first of these laws is the protec-
tion of the civilian population, which must remain separate from the belligerent
forces engaged on the battlefield. The protection comprises not only the physical
safety of the population. Rather, it also extends to the goods they possess, situated
in the territory of the state that is about to be conquered. Here, it is in the interest of
the conquering state itself to make sure the losses are as few as possible, in view of
the fact that the conquered territory is about to become one of its possessions. In
any case, the law of war forbids the plundering and destruction of the land.
In the part dealing with internal law, Fichte had displayed extreme pragmatism
in observing that, since as a consequence of war any juridical relationship comes to
an end, this could not be considered a situation of legality.20 But the exigencies of
epistemic systematics must be obeyed, and therefore Fichte had to yield, as it were,
to the cogency of theory in the paragraphs dedicated to the law of war. Yet, he was
well aware that theory is destined to remain merely words written on the paper of
ponderous juridical treatises with no repercussions on reality. The concrete methods
of waging war in his own times (already in his own times, if seen from a present-​day
perspective) had changed into something entirely different, and reached extremes
of absolute negativity,21 which no longer reflected traditional doctrine. Here, it is
most visible that Fichte’s concept of law oscillates between systematic theory that he
considers a situation of legality, and mere pragmatic concerns of order.
The advantages deriving from an alliance initially reside, as Fichte argued, in
quantity, which generates strength.22 Fichte does not actually see it as a question

18 Immanuel Kant, Metaphysik der Sitten. Rechtslehre, Gesammelte Schriften, Akademie Ausgabe
(1907 ff), vol. VI, § 60, pp. 349 ff.
19  Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’ in Werke 1794-​1796, § 13, pp. 423–​5 (n. 3).
20  ‘War ends every legal relationship […] the condition of war is not a legal condition.’ (editor’s
translation). In German, it reads: ‘Im Kriege hört freilich alles Rechtsverhältniß auf […] der Zustand
des Kriegs ist auch kein rechtlicher Zustand’ (Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1794-​1796, p. 419 (n. 3);
see also p. 416 and Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798, p. 6 (n. 6)). This statement does not sim-
ply echo the assumption already formulated in the review of Zum ewigen Frieden (Fichte, ‘[Rezension:]
Zum ewigen Frieden. Ein philosophischer Entwurf von Immanuel Kant’, in Werke 1794-​1796 (n. 3),
p. 226); there is also the awareness of the complexity of the problems (in theoretical-​political terms)
inherent in the very formulation of a right that allows the subjection of the citizens of the defeated state.
A further case specifies the right to subdue people who are not subjected to a state authority; see Fichte,
‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1794-​1796, § 7, pp. 383–​8 (n. 3).
21  § 14 contains a condemnation of the practice of taking prisoners of war and the consequent
exchanges and a condemnation of the weapons that had become in vogue in his times, as well as of snip-
ers. Ultimately it contains the rules that should guarantee the safety of the enemy. Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’,
in Werke 1797-​1798, pp. 158–​9 (n. 6); see also Hegel, Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts, §§ 338
and 339 (n. 15)).
22  Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1794-​1796, § 15, pp. 430–​2 (n. 3).
34

334 Carla De Pascale

of mere strength, but is rather prompted to make this statement by a positive idea
of humanity, in which the traits of rationality still prevail, and so a multitude of
rational and free men will pursue a greater and better good than that which may be
pursued by a single and isolated man.23 Fichte pointed out, however, that the allied
forces may in fact be bent on pursuing what is wrong rather than what is right.24
It is nevertheless precisely here that the transition from a mere agreement between
two states to a wider alliance is outlined, and that an embryonic version of a con-
federation is set out (its essential characteristic being the voluntary participation of
the individual member states). In this case, the advantages reside essentially in the
fact that, in order to combat the aims of any state that is extraneous to the alliance,
a league of nations may proceed to set up its own tribunal25 and military force,26
though preferably not in the form of a permanent army, something which had
already been opposed by Kant as well.
The progressive extension of the alliance will produce a confederation that will
become universal if its ultimate goal is perpetual peace. In addition to this desirable
aim, Fichte’s reflections here are important as a gauge of the tenability of a juridical
theory and are in any case of considerable historical interest. Like Kant, he contrib-
uted to the German discussion whether a federation was preferred to a unitary state,
and if so, what type of federation should be set up (confederation or federal state).
There we find an excellent summary of the main ‘problem’ concerning Fichte’s
juridical conception, including his idea of inter-​state relationships:
The absolute impossibility of an unjust decision by the confederation has not yet been estab-
lished. […] Until reason herself appears in person upon earth and assumes judicial power,
we shall always have a supreme court, which, being finite, is liable to error or to evil motives.
The problem is simply to discover a tribunal from which there is the least likelihood to
except this; and such a tribunal is for civil relations the nation, and for the relations of states
[and this would be the principle theme of his reflections in the following period], the just
described confederation.27
The second part of the second appendix, which is dedicated to cosmopolitan right
(Weltbürgerrecht), consists of very few paragraphs, and pivots on one fundamental
concept that in fact constitutes the theoretical presupposition of cosmopolitanism:
Cosmopolitan right is the right of man as a ‘citizen of the world’. This does not
concern rights of a private foreign citizen that spring from a contractual agree-
ment of reciprocal recognition between states. Nor does it concern envoys who are
officially sent on a mission. It concerns instead the right of any foreigner. Fichte
argues that this man possesses in any case the ‘originary’ right of every man, which
consists in the possibility itself of acquiring rights. It is precisely this right that

23  Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1794-​1796, p. 400 (n. 3).

24  Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke1797-​1798, p. 162 (n. 6). It is precisely here, in § 20, the conclud-
ing paragraph of the section dedicated to Völkerrecht, that we first come across the expression ewiger
Friede.
25  Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798, § 17, pp. 5–​20 (n. 6).
26  Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798, § 18, pp. 20–​4 (n. 6).
27 Fichte, The Science of Rights, p. 488 (n. 7).
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Fichte 335

makes all other juridical relationships possible.28 Certain preliminary conditions

must subsist: the state in question must be aware of the existence of this foreigner
(blosser Weltbürger) who intends to ‘walk freely on the ground, and to offer a legal
relation’,29 but it also has the right to refuse his request (though Fichte does not
specify the degree of justifiability). Yet, in any case, it has to defend this foreigner’s
safety (§ 23).
The cosmopolitan right has a different position in Kant’s and Fichte’s systems.30
Nevertheless, both authors are convinced that peace cannot be attained without the
state if there is no justice within it: this is the conclusion of Fichte’s review of Kant’s
Zum ewigen Frieden, which he states in its final lines. If indeed a difference between
the two philosophical constructions can be seen, it is the progressive importance
assumed in Fichte’s vision by the idea of justice, in the sense not only of the ultimate
outcome of a legal system, but also in wider, moral, sense.31

28 Fichte, The Science of Rights, p. 490 (n. 7): A few lines above: ‘He has that original right of man,
which precedes all law-​agreements and first makes them possible, namely, the right that all men must
presuppose the possibility of entering into a legal relation with him.’
29  Editor’s translation.
30  Carla De Pascale, ‘Le droit cosmopolitique comme synthèse du droit’, in Jean-​Francois Kervégan
(ed.), Raison pratique et normativité chez Kant : Droit, politique et cosmopolitique (2010), pp. 199–​
211, argues how highly Kant valued cosmopolitan right, in which solely the origin of peace resides.
This is the theme of Kant, Zum ewigen Frieden. Consequently, Kant attributed less importance to the
organization of the internal law of the state (which revolves entirely around the notion of a ‘republican
constitution’) compared to that of the jus publicum civitatum (in which the main actor is the jus belli,
which must now be set aside) and of the jus cosmopoliticum. In the theoretical ordering of his definitive
doctrine of law (the later Rechtslehre contained in the Metaphysik der Sitten (n. 18)), the three argu-
ments correspond to the three constituent elements of juridical synthesis, and cosmopolitan right is the
culmination in that it is a law capable of organising peace, beginning with the confederation. As regards
Fichte, in his juridical manual, published before and independently of Kant’s work, the approach is
different and the term Weltbürgerrecht refers exclusively to the right of the foreigner who finds himself
in the situation that has just been described.
31  Fichte’s attention focused mainly on the internal juridical organization of the State; he was con-
vinced that if the state was built ‘according to reason’, this would eliminate many causes of conflict
between men. Not all causes, first, because although men are rational beings, they are finite, and
therefore imperfect; second, because differences in condition and class (Stand) are great and most
of all, third, because every man judges for himself and therefore men’s judgments are all different,
but in theory all equally legitimate. Each person’s freedom consists precisely in the faculty to judge
autonomously and act consequently. For this reason the ‘community of free beings’, which is in theory
guaranteed by law, is in practice constitutively aporetic—as may be gathered by two ideas Fichte wishes
to hold firm: man is endowed with an inalienable Urrecht; the organization of the state is based on
a collection of laws which must be unfailingly valid, which must be passed and implemented by a
sovereign power whose force must be inexorable. The republican constitution is founded on these two
elements and requires freedom and equality (of everyone before the law, but paying attention to the
material conditions of each person’s life). While also requiring parliamentary representation, in Fichte’s
conception (Kant had seen things differently) the republican constitution does not foresee the division
of powers and instead prescribes the institution of a further power (with an exclusively prohibiting,
‘negative’ function); this is a sort of constitutional jury whose object is to protect, first, the legality of
laws, and second, the legitimacy of the sovereign’s actions. If this construction is put into effect and
respected, the tasks that fall to state institutions will progressively diminish (until the state itself will
tend to extinguish) and all this may, if extended to all men endowed with reason, produce peace; see
Hans-​Jürgen Verweyen, Recht und Sittlichkeit in J.G. Fichtes Gesellschaftslehre (1975); Carla De Pascale,
‘Die Vernunft ist praktisch’. Fichtes Ethik und Rechtslehre im System (2003), pp. 195–​254.
36

336 Carla De Pascale

In Der geschloßne Handelsstaat (1800, hereinafter Handelsstaat), Fichte
attaches relevance to the theme of inter-​state relationships, as well as (and to
an even greater extent) to the theme of justice, on which all juridical relation-
ships within a state should be based. In fact, it is precisely the issue of ‘justice’,
a material, substantive and not merely formal justice, with important economic
consequences, that serves as one of the foundations for the recommended state
intervention in economic matters.32 The other foundation for state intervention
in the economy is, as has been mentioned, the search for an answer to the prob-
lem of conflictual relationships between states and, in particular, the search for
a positive solution to the threats of war, which in turn is produced by economic
causes.
There is a clear distance in perspectives between the Handelsstaat, deeply con-
cerned as it is with celebrating the advantages of a commercial closure of the state
to everything that lies outside it, and the cosmopolitan perspective which had
fuelled Fichte’s vision in the preceding decade. This distance would not be bridged
in Fichte’s later thought. However, notwithstanding the radicalness of the change,
one should not think that the theme of peace and the connected issue of cosmo-
politanism disappeared from Fichte’s theoretical horizon. Nor had he definitively
ceased to enquire into solutions to the problems of his times, which he had himself
devised in the opening years of the new century, as we shall see in the following
section.
Accused of atheism, having toyed with the idea of moving to the University of
Mainz (which, following the Treaty of Campoformio, had come under French
rule) and finally accused of fomenting unrest among the many students who had
presented a petition for his reinstatement at the University of Jena, Fichte finally
decided to move to Berlin. Here, after unsuccessfully undertaking the route of
a political reformism on the terrain of what we today call the humanities,33 he
decided that he needed to tackle the issue of the disastrous economic state of
Prussia, in a period when the mercantile doctrine was being superseded by the
emergent doctrine of free trade. While Fichte tackled this issue in an entirely
innovative manner, he nevertheless failed to exert any influence whatsoever on
the real situation of the country.34 He dedicated his work to the Minister of

32 Andreas Verzar, Das autonome Subjekt und der Vernunftstaat. Eine systematisch-​ historische
Untersuchung zu Fichtes ‘Geschlossenem Handelsstaat’ von 1800 (1979); Hans Hirsch, ‘Fichtes Beitrag
zur Planwirtschaft und dessen Verhältnis zu seiner praktischen Philosophie’, in Klaus Hammacher
(ed.), Der Transzendentale Gedanke, (1981), pp. 215–​33.
33  The attempt to influence the Masonic outlook through the important position he had acquired
within the Royale-​York Lodge of Berlin, and the outline of the reform project he proposed, may be
found in a text published in 1802:  Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Philosophie der Maurerei. Briefe an
Konstant’, in Werke 1801-​1806 (1991), I, vol. 8, Gesamtausgabe, pp. 407–​62.
34  There have been different interpretations of Fichte’s proposal, ranging from a typical expres-
sion of the dirigisme of enlightened despotism to heralding a form of state socialism; see e.g. Jürgen
Bona Meyer, Fichte, Lassalle und der Sozialismus (1878); Marianne Weber, Fichtes Sozialismus und sein
Verhältnis zur Marx’schen Doktrin (1900).
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Fichte 337

Finance Karl August von Struensee, who himself had had an important career
as a reformer (and who, also in 1800, had published about public economics).35
What is significant about this dedication is the definition Fichte gives of his
subject: an application of the principles of his philosophy of law to economic
politics.36 The proposal was the sketch of a ‘state according to reason’ capable
of promoting perpetual peace37 and, at the same time, following an economic
perspective in contrast to the institutional perspective he had been taken until
then.
Despite his clear anti-​liberal stance, Fichte adopted Adam Smith’s great principle
that the wealth of nations consists not in the quantity of gold and silver accumulated,
but in value (which is produced by labour). Labour, as we have already mentioned, is
the only thing man truly owns. As a consequence, one of the fundamental and inalien-
able rights of man is that such labour should be guaranteed and suitably remunerated,
so that everyone may live decently on the fruits of his own labour. This must be an
equal starting condition for all men and the ultimate outcome must also respect such
a criterion of equality.38 The details of this construction are complex. In short, the
state organizes the distribution of labour through different work classes and ensures
the distribution of goods. It takes entirely (and exclusively) the duty of foreign com-
merce, until autarchy is reached. Once a national currency has been introduced, and
economic balance attained (with an improvement of the quality of life and a reduc-
tion in working hours), the closed commercial state will be able to defend its citizens
from economic aggression from the outside,39 in the same way that its institutions
defend it from the attacks of its enemies. If the mercantile doctrines had furnished the
theoretical justification for commercial wars, the very recent discovery (in Germany)
of the free market risked turning the masses into the casualties of a war of pillage and
rapine, while the physiocratic doctrine, which had so far been valued by Fichte, was
becoming progressively obsolete because of the rapid descent in the scale of values of
agriculture compared to manufacturing and commerce.

35  Karl August von Struensee, Abhandlungen über wichtige Gegenstände der Staatswirthschaft (1800).
36  This is already visible in the subtitle of Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Der geschloßne Handelsstat. Ein
philosophischer Entwurf als Anhang zur Rechtslehre und Probe einer künftig zu liefernden Politik’, in
Werke 1800-​1801 (1988), I, vol. 7, Gesamtausgabe, pp. 37–​141.
37  Fichte, ‘Der geschloßne Handelsstat’, in Werke 1800-​1801, p. 141 (n. 36); stated again e.g. in
Fichte, ‘Die Grundzüge des gegenwärtigen Zeitalters’, in Werke 1801-​1806, p. 324 (n. 33).
38  Fichte, ‘Der geschloßne Handelsstat’, in Werke 1800-​1801, pp. 53, 55 (n. 36). Here one sees
clearly that the aim was to offer in this text the application, on the economic plane, of the juridical
principles set out in his treatise, where one could read: ‘The highest and universal end of all free activity
is, therefore, that men may be alive. This end each one has, and the guarantee of freedom involves this
guarantee. Unless he attains it, freedom and the continued existence of his person will be impossible.’
‘To be able to live is the absolute, inalienable property of all men.’ (Fichte, The Science of Rights, p. 292
(n. 7)). The connection between economic investigation (which had already been carried out in Der
geschloßne Handelsstaat) and juridical investigation is also highlighted in the Rechtslehre 1812; see e.g.
Fichte, ‘Rechtslehre 1812’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1812, p. 288 (n. 12).
39  ‘addiction of conquest’ as we find in Fichte, ‘Der geschloßne Handelsstat’, in Werke 1800-​1801,
p. 118 (n. 36).
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338 Carla De Pascale

II.  The Effects Produced on Fichte’s Thought by his Reflections

on History and by the Historical Problem of Nation-​Building

Fichte was not only aware of the doctrine of ‘natural boundaries’, which had been
adopted by the French parliament at the close of 1792, but had also to a certain
extent agreed with it.40 The issue of natural frontiers came once more to the fore
when, from 1800 onwards, Fichte found himself working in the political and cul-
tural heart of Prussia, developing a doctrine aimed, on the one hand, at healing
the financial situation of a country already much weakened by Napoleon’s military
campaigns and, on the other hand, at exorcising the risk of future wars. The issue
became particularly relevant because it was linked to the commercial closure of
the state, which would have benefited from a configuration of the territory that
favoured an autarchic economy. The problem of not allowing a defensive war to turn
into a war of conquest remained: a position that had formerly been upheld by the
French Jacobins and which Fichte would try to maintain (despite the concessions
he gradually made to power politics, as for example with his essay Über Machiavell,
als Schriftsteller). Hence, his renewed condemnation of war in general,41 and his
repeated considerations on and doubts about the so-​called just war: an alliance
among a larger number of states through their unified strength could still defeat an
‘unjust state’.42 Despite all of Fichte’s attempts, the certainty of attaining justice was
not reached in his later research. He would continue to work on this issue for over a
decade, with varying, though always essentially unsuccessful, outcomes.
Another much more urgent issue, however, that of the formation of a national
state, was emerging.43 This historical process had already taken place for the major-
ity of European states, but was still very much in the making for the German terri-
tories (although it had de facto crumbled, the formal dissolution of the Holy Roman
Empire did not take place until 1806). Generally, such a process is prompted in
its initial phases by a strong feeling of cohesion among the population, with the
additional bolstering of a strong reforming spirit, while the potential charge of
aggressive nationalism is reserved for later times. This, at any rate, is reflected in the
development of Fichte’s thought.
The ethnic and cultural homogeneity of a people, residing in a state with a suf-
ficient size to ensure a good economic organization, is an idea that re-​emerges
at regular intervals from Fichte’s pamphlet on the Handelsstaat right up to Die
Grundzüge des gegenwärtigen Zeitalters (1804/​05), his first important work on the
philosophy of history. It grew up within a specific literary genre popular throughout

40  See Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798, p. 152 (n. 6).

41  See the vivid description in Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Bestimmung des Menschen’, in Werke 1799-​
1800 (1981), I, vol. 6, pp. 269 ff.
42  See Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1797-​1798, p. 160 (n. 6).
43  See Massimo Mori, La ragione delle armi. Guerra e conflitto nella filosofia classica tedesca (1984);
Gaetano Rametta (ed.), Filosofia e guerra nell’età dell’idealismo tedesco (2003).
 39

Fichte 339

Europe (though it originated in France, starting with Voltaire, and developing with
Condorcet), to which Kant and German idealism contributed significantly.
That historical development may be determined a priori44 is the fulcrum of
Fichte’s vision, which subdivides the course of the history of mankind into five
fundamental epochs, the fifth and last of which is characterised as an age that has
achieved perfection. Its contours are only partially defined, insofar as most uto-
pian constructions have no clear-​cut outlines. The aim of historical development
is, he believed, to mould all relationships between men on the principles of reason,
and therefore of freedom. The precondition for the birth of history is the pres-
ence of reason and language, a precondition that is satisfied by the existence, in
an unspecified time and in an unspecified place, of an ‘originary people’ (Urvolk
or Normalvolk).45 A second precondition is that an encounter/​clash should occur
between this ‘originary people’ and its exact theoretical opposite: a savage people
led only by the instinct of self-​preservation and the drive to satisfy natural needs.46
From the intermingling of these two peoples, history is engendered—and with it
inequality and conflict emerge. In the second age of history, the state comes to life,
as a result of the authority exerted through force by the strongest members of the
species. In the third age, to which Fichte believed he belonged, those who are sub-
jugated follow the impulse to free themselves of authority. This age is characterised
by the complete eclipsing of reason, and therefore by the indifference to virtue. The
impulse that prompts a radical transformation, or more precisely an actual spiritual
and religious rebirth, lies in the ‘concept’, a new starting point for the power of sci-
ence to affirm itself (fourth age). It will only unfold entirely in the following, and
final, epoch of history, where the definitive triumph of reason will take place.
In addition to this, however, Fichte carries out an empirical investigation of his-
tory, through which he reveals a much less linear progress within each historical
epoch; in particular, he vividly illustrates, through actual examples, something
which he had already hinted at in his early political writings of 1793/​94: histori-
cally, the state came into being following acts of violence, and sometimes simply
by chance. This overview of actual history, with the aid of some of the theoretical
presuppositions briefly outlined above, would constitute the materials out of which
Fichte would slightly later construct the Reden an die deutsche Nation (1808). For
the time being, the Grundzüge served to illuminate the deep-​seated reasons for so
many inter-​state conflicts as well as for more or less prolonged periods of peace.

44  This idea is connected to the concept of ‘cosmic plan’ (Weltplan): Fichte, ‘Die Grundzüge’, in
Werke 1801-​1806, p. 197 (n. 33).
45 Where there dominated a primordial form of reason, more specifically described as a
‘Vernunftinstinct’ (‘rational instinct’), which had constituted the distinctive trait of the first age, the
age of innocence (that is a condition of absence of self-​consciousness, and therefore of will, and for this
very reason of freedom).
46  On the model of the relationship I/​not-​I, already set out in Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Grundlage
der gesamten Wissenschaftslehre als Handschrift für seine Zuhörer’, in Werke 1793-​1795 (1965), I,
vol. 2, Gesamtausgabe, pp. 264 ff, and reformulated as the relationship I/​you, the foundation of that
doctrine of inter-​personality which would also be so important for the construction of the juridi-
cal institutions (Fichte, ‘Naturrecht’, in Werke 1794-​1796, pp.  340 ff (n. 3)).On the birth of his-
tory: Fichte, ‘Die Grundzüge’, in Werke 1801-​1806, pp. 329 ff (n. 33).
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340 Carla De Pascale

Christian Europe, for example, constituted a source of stability for this part of the
world,47 while the period in which national states came into being was a time of
great conflicts, in which wars of expansion and conquest were also waged against
very different people. New entities were also formed through alliances. The recent
system of power balance within Europe was itself historically the result of the politi-
cal guideline followed by different states reciprocally interested in self-​containing
their respective forces.48
A passage from the Reden offers a powerful short account of this historical excur-
sus. It is a crucial passage for understanding the reasons and the aims of this work.
While nothing has changed with respect to the historical and theoretical picture
outlined in the Grundzüge, very much has changed in respect to the tone with
which different aspects are emphasized. Now, for the first time, the role and the des-
tiny of Germany within Europe are exclusively highlighted.49 The historical reasons
for this radical shift in Fichte’s thought have often been put forward by scholars: the
catastrophic defeat of Prussia at the hands of the French at Jena and Auerstädt had
not only definitively confirmed the worst misgivings about that very Napoleon50
who only a few years before had awakened hopes of freedom, but had also, and
more importantly, revealed the inanity of all attempts so far made to reform the
state. Once the state has collapsed, the only other possible leverage was the peo-
ple, who had not yet, however, become a nation. This was the task that was now
demanded: to re-​awaken and call to arms an entire people and re-​found a policy
that could bring about a radically new and global educational project, as the old
leaders had been defeated and the old institutions had not survived the attack of
the enemy.51 The place of these leaders and governors would in the future be taken
by scholars, i.e. intellectuals, to whom Fichte (himself an impecunious intellectual
with no pedigree) had entrusted the most important duty of all.52
In the years in which Germany, although already involved in the war, had not
yet rushed headlong to its ruin, Fichte had strived to combine the patriotism
required by the historical moment with his own deep-​rooted cosmopolitism, or
at least he had wondered whether this was possible.53 The Patriotismus und sein

47  On Christian States = Republics: Fichte, ‘Die Grundzüge’, in Werke 1801-​1806, p. 345 (n. 33).

48  Fichte, ‘Die Grundzüge’, in Werke 1801-​1806, p. 349 (n. 33).
49  Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Reden an die deutsche Nation’, in Werke 1808-​1812 (2005), I, vol. 10,
Gesamtausgabe, pp. 268 ff: if the balance described above had been respected and preserved, nothing
would have happened; instead, the strength of precisely that nation which formed its geographical
centre (a nation previously weakened by religious schisms and subdued by foreigners) was undermined;
for a better understanding of the epoch, one should read, in parallel, Fichte’s important lesson XIV of
‘Die Grundzüge’, in Werke 1801-​1806, pp. 353–​363 (n. 33).
50  See Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘In Beziehung auf den Namenlosen’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1806-​
1807 (1994), II, vol. 10, Gesamtausgabe, pp. 83–​5.
51  See Fichte, ‘Reden’, in Werke 1808-​1812, p. 203 (n. 49): the contraposition between the state and
the people and homeland. See also Richard Schottky, ‘Fichtes Nationalstaatsgedanke auf der Grundlage
unveröffentlicher Manuskripte von 1807’, in Fichte-​Studien 2, (1990), pp. 111–​37; Richard Schottky,
‘Fichtes Nations-​Begriff 1806–​1813. Innenspannung und Entwicklung’, in Rudolf Burger, Hans-​
Dieter Klein, and Wolfgang H. Schrader (eds.), Gesellschaft, Staat, Nation (1996), pp. 159–​84.
52  Fichte, ‘Reden’, in Werke 1808-​1812, p. 115 (n. 49).
53  Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Patriotismus und sein Gegentheil’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1805-​
1807 (1993), II, vol. 9, Gesamtausgabe, pp. 393–​445.
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Fichte 341

Gegentheil (1806–​1807) had been devoted precisely to the attempt—fruitless as

this may seem to us today—​at setting up a relationship of continuity between the
two concepts (‘Cosmopolitanism is the dominant will that the purpose of existence
of mankind is fulfilled in mankind’; ‘The patriot wants that the purpose of existence
of mankind is fulfilled at first in the nation in which he takes part.’).54
The doctrine of natural boundaries itself was now subjected to a revision,55 in
line with an even more significant change regarding the question of language. In the
Reden, Fichte states that men live together not because they find themselves to be
within natural boundaries, but because they have for other reasons decided to live
together and therefore find that they are protected by natural boundaries. Language
homogeneity is the first of these reasons. Fichte had already dealt with language,
adding this new subject of study to his constellation of ideas, at the centre of which
was social and communicative striving.56 In the Reden, language becomes the most
important instrument for the reconstruction of German identity: the German peo-
ple, the heirs of the ancient Germans described by Tacitus, have never abandoned
their ancient seats and have preserved their originary language. There remained one
small step to be taken. There is only a small distance between declaring that the
German language is the originary language and declaring that it is the only ‘liv-
ing’ language while all other languages are branded as dead. The superiority of the
Germans over all other peoples, first and foremost over the French, is thus assured.
Finally, the living language is the instrument par excellence for the diffusion of
culture, thereby making German culture the supreme expression of culture tout
court. Within the space of very few pages, a defeated and depressed people who have
nothing left to do but obey their conquerors are now spurred on to become the ves-
sel of a new ideal of humanity. Certainly, rhetoric and psychology play their role to
the hilt, but this sudden swerve in the argument also indicates an actual condition
of extreme difficulty.
As regards German culture, now transformed into the culture, this is precisely the
issue through which we may measure the distance between this work—born out of
the conferences held to boost the morale of the people and urge them to action—​
and all of Fichte’s other works, preceding and following.57 For example, the passage
quoted just above continues thus: ‘In our times, this purpose of existence can only
be promoted through science’.58 Science appears as the highest expression of cul-
ture, while both science and culture are associated with the idea of freedom. Kultur

54  Editor’s translation. In German, it reads: ‘Kosmopolitismus ist der herrschende Wille, daß der
Zweck des Daseins des Menschengeschlechts im Menschengeschlechte erreicht werde’; ‘Der Patriot
will, daß der Zweck des Menschengeschlechts zuerst in derjenigen Nation erreicht werde, deren
Mitglied er selber ist.’ Fichte, ‘Patriotismus und sein Gegentheil’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1805-​
1807, pp. 399, 404 (n. 53).
55  Fichte, ‘Reden’, in Werke 1808-​1812, p. 267 (n. 49).
56  Fichte, ‘Von der Sprachfähigkeit und dem Ursprung der Sprache’, in Werke 1794-​1796, pp. 91–​
127 (n. 3).
57  See Reinhard Lauth, ‘Der letzte Grund von Fichtes Reden an die deutsche Nation’, in Fichte-​
Studien 4, (1992), 197–​230.
58  Editor’s translation. In German, it reads: ‘In unsrer Zeit kann jener Zweck nur von der Wißenschaft
aus befördert werden.’ Fichte, ‘Patriotismus’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1805-​1807, p. 404 (n. 53).
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342 Carla De Pascale

zur Freiheit is the favoured formula that recurs frequently in Fichte’s texts, and not
only in the early political writings. It expresses the idea that it is man in his entirety
who is the subject and the object of all transformative action, which, in Fichte,
sounds simply tautological in that for him all action is in itself a modification.
This is certainly not an end in itself, but a movement towards a perfecting of the
single man and of the species, which must be carried out in the political as well as
in the moral and religious spheres. Although theory requires these three fields to be
rigorously distinguished, as each field needs its own particular perspective through
which specialised investigation may be conducted, in man, who is a whole, they
continually intersect and intermingle. The same occurs in life, which is different
from philosophy, though it is always desirable that philosophy should assist life.
Culture thus plays a central role in Fichte’s philosophy.
It would instead be more interesting to show how even in such a unique work
as the Reden—​in which the pursued aim is felt to be so important as to subvert
completely the theoretical foundations that had hitherto seemed indefectible—​this
concept should once more reappear in the guise of a universal culture, as both the
general framework within which national culture places itself and as the aim towards
which it tends. The context of this argumentation is the same (Discourse VIII) where
Fichte hints at a wider examination of the fate of humanity as a whole—otherwise
rare in this work.
Next to culture, however, and to an even greater extent next to the pedagogic
thrust that pervades the Reden, an undeniably prominent position is taken by war,
intended as a war of the people, aimed at driving out the foreign invader and con-
queror. Fichte had been meditating on this subject for some time, at least since the
winds of war had been blowing and increasingly so with the advance of the French
armies. His work on Machiavelli proves this even more clearly. Between 1806 and
1807,59 Fichte assiduously studied the Discourses, the Prince, the Art of War, and the
Florentine Histories. He was well aware that almost three centuries separated him
from Machiavelli and that the Italian writer belonged to a pre-​modern world that
had now definitively (and fortunately) disappeared. On the other hand, the close of
The Prince, that is, An Exhortation to Liberate Italy from the Barbarians, dedicated to
Lorenzo de Medici (and with it the connected issue of national unification), might
in those year have awakened in any German reader similar impulses and yearnings
of the soul. Intriguingly, among the excerpts from the Prince that Fichte translated

59  In this period, Fichte spent some time at Königsberg (to where the court had moved), having
realized it was no longer safe in Berlin. Here, he taught some courses at the university, and here he once
again took up and further investigated Pestalozzi’s work. Königsberg was also the birthplace of the
journal ‘Vesta’, which in its first issue printed Fichte’s essay on Machiavelli, quoted here in the following
note. With the arrival of the French, Fichte moved to Copenhagen. On this issue, see Claudio Cesa’s
entry ‘Fichte, Johann Gottlieb’, in Enciclopedia Machiavelliana (2014), vol. I, pp. 546–​50; Albert Elkan,
‘Die Entdeckung Machiavellis in Deutschland im 19. Jahrhundert’, Historische Zeitschrift 119 (1919),
427–​58; Douglas Moggach, ‘Fichte’s engagement with Machiavelli’, in History of political thought 14/​
4 (1993), 573–​89; Gaetano Rametta, ‘Note su Fichte lettore di Machiavelli’, in Filosofia e guerra,
pp. 109–​122 (n. 43); Ives Radrizzani (ed.), Fichte lecteur de Machiavelli (2006); Marco Rampazzo
Bazzan, ‘Unter der Konjunktur denken. Fichtes Auseinandersetzung mit Machiavell’, Fichte-​Studien
40 (2012), 87–​107.
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Fichte 343

for the German public, the first to appear was precisely the Exhortation. The work
also contains a long introductory essay, the last paragraph of which is, not inci-
dentally, entitled ‘in how far Machiavelli’s politics applies to our times’. It is here
that we find observations on inter-​state relationships, which had not so far been
regulated by law and always remained potentially conflictual, given the universal
impulse towards expansion, a herald of later power politics.60
Fichte also uses the introduction to put forward his considerations on war.
Echoing certain tones which his contemporaries had already sensed in Kant’s phi-
losophy of history, these ideas form his new ‘power-​political’ outlook: ‘And as the
practice of war must not cease, if humankind shall not become limp and corrupted
for possible later wars, so we have in Europe, but even more in other parts of the
world, enough barbarians which must, in the short or long run, be incorporated
with force in the Empire of culture. These fights shall toughen the European youth
[…]’.61 The final page of this section calls for a new, firmer art of government
which Fichte depicts as strongly opposed to the political philosophy of the second
half of the previous century and which he describes as ‘flat, weakly and poor, pre-
senting as its greatest good a form of humanity and libertarianism, and popularity’
and finally ‘in love with the perpetual peace’.62
It is worth remembering at this point that in his introduction Fichte also paid
special attention to those passages in the Art of War in which Machiavelli rejected
the assumption that artillery was the most suitable means of victory on the bat-
tlefield. Fichte, as we know, had already suggested as much in the second appendix
of the Grundlage des Naturrechts, against the generally held view on this subject in
his own times. Slightly later, Carl P. G. von Clausewitz expounded his beliefs in a
letter published in the same issue of the journal in which Fichte’s essay was pub-
lished, dated 11 January 1809, and entitled Ein Ungenannter Militär an Fichte. Von
Clausewitz had been prompted to write this piece not only by the subject matter
itself (he had been studying Machiavelli for some time), but also by Fichte’s urgent

60  See, in particular, the following passage: in the relationships between the Prince and the other
states—​unlike what happens in the relationship between the Prince and his peaceful people—​‘there is
neither law nor right, just the law of the powerful […]’ (editor’s translation): Johann Gottlieb Fichte,
‘Ueber Macchiavell, als Schriftsteller, und Stellen aus seinen Schriften’, in Werke 1806-​1807 (1995), I,
vol. 9, Gesamtausgabe, pp. 244f. The notes on reading the works of Machiavelli, ‘Real Bemerkungen
bei Machiavell’, may be found in Nachgelassene Schriften 1806-​1807, pp. 301–​69 (n. 50).
61  Editor’s translation. In German, it reads ‘Und da gleichwohl die Kriegsübung nicht ausgehen
darf, wenn die Menschheit nicht erschlaffen, und für den späterhin doch wieder möglichen Krieg ver-
derben soll, so haben wir ja noch selbst in Europa, noch mehr aber in den andern Welttheilen, Barbaren
genug, welche doch über kurz oder lang, mit Zwang dem Reiche der Kultur werden einverleibt werden
müssen. In Kämpfen mit diesen stähle sich die Europäische Jugend […]’ Fichte, ‘Ueber Machiavell’,
in Werke 1806-​1807, p. 244 (n. 50) (emphasis added).
62  Editor’s translation. In German, it reads: ‘gar flach, kränklich, und armselig, darbietend als ihr
höchstes Gut eine gewisse Humanität, und Liberalität, und Popularität’ and finally ‘verliebt in den
ewigen Frieden’; Fichte, ‘Ueber Machiavell’, in Werke 1806-​1807, p. 245 (n. 50). There are evident ele-
ments of self-​criticism, which are stated more clearly a couple of lines down: even on the part of some
Germans, ‘the teachings of human right and of freedom and originary equality of everyone’ have been
treated with too much importance. Yet, Fichte argues, it is true that these doctrines are ‘the eternal and
indestructible foundations of societal order’, but it is possible neither to establish nor to administer the
state by their means alone (editor’s translations).
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344 Carla De Pascale

exhortation to the experts that they should reconsider the opinions of the great
Florentine writer.
When Napoleon’s power finally began to wane (after the defeat of his troops in
Russia) and when Germany was pushing for the final victory, Fichte returned to
his reflections on history, which he now decided to divide simply into two great
epochs (the ‘old’ and the ‘new’ world), the birth of Christianity functioning as a
watershed between the two.63 Once again he deployed historical investigation for
the purpose of determining in what phase of history humanity was now. He aimed
to establish—​at a more restricted, but also at a more concrete level—​the exact stage
of the struggle against the enemy on German territory, as well as what was being
done specifically (or had to be done in the immediate future) in order to inject
lifeblood into the nation. This, Fichte argued, was of the highest importance in
properly gauging the scope of present action, without naturally losing sight of that
final objective: the setting up of a state according to reason.64 Fichte clearly displays
some anxiety that the immediate—​but also the ultimate—​result of the disappear-
ance of the danger represented by Napoleon would be the return of the old regime.
It is within this framework that we must read the three lessons on the concept
of ‘real war’.65 These are no longer merely investigations into whether it is possible
to speak of a ‘just war’ (and indeed in what manner one might do so), but rather
into what actually caused the present war, what prospects it had opened up and
what conditions were to be satisfied so that a tangible result might be reached. First
of all, true war is such when it is a mass war, something completely different from
the dynastic wars that had so far been waged generally with the aid of mercenary
troops. As a consequence, each man must engage in war personally66 and is perhaps
capable of bringing about peace. In recent history, this had briefly seemed possible
thanks to France, but all hope had rapidly vanished, one might suggest, on account
of the negative spirit of the times. Fichte had previously enlightened his readers on
the spiritual condition of the Germans before the war. The French, however, instead
of turning such a momentous event as the Revolution into an opportunity to forge
for themselves a ‘system of thought’ in step with the times, and strengthen their
spirit through an understanding of the true sense of such concepts as ‘liberty’ and

63 Johann Gottlieb Fichte, ‘Die Staatslehre, oder über das Verhältniß des Urstaates zum
Vernunftreiche’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1813 (2011), II, vol. 16, Gesamtausgabe, pp. 1–​176. See
Marco Ivaldo, ‘Politik, Geschichte und Religion in der Staatslehre 1813’, Fichte-​Studien 11 (1997)
209–​227; Marco Ivaldo, ‘Le statut de la Politique dans la Doctrine de l’Etat de 1813’, in Jean-​
Christophe Goddard and Jacinto Rivera de Rosales (eds.), Fichte et la politique (2008), pp. 63–​80.
64  As we see from the title of chapter III:  Fichte, ‘Von der Errichtung des Vernunftreiches’, in
Nachgelassene Schriften 1813, pp. 63 ff (n. 62).
65 These correspond to chapter II:  Fichte, ‘Ueber den Begriff des warhaften Krieges. Drei
Vorlesungen’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1813, pp. 39 ff (n. 63), which closes with some pages of vio-
lently anti-​French and anti-​Napoleonic polemic.
66  Fichte, ‘Die Staatslehre’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1813, p. 48 (n. 63). The portrait painted in
this work both of the dynastic wars and of the conduct of the governors that decide to undertake them
is in no way different from that presented in his first work: Fichte, ‘Zurückforderung der Denkfreiheit
von den Fürsten Europens, die sie bis herunterdrückten’, in Werke 1791-​1794, pp. 165–​92, see e.g.
p. 170 (n. 1).
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‘the reign of law’, have chosen to trample on them (led, moreover, by a foreigner
who descends from a savage people).67 What the French lacked, and what indeed
(as things stood) the Germans alone might attain, was the awareness of the moral
destiny of the human race.
This, Fichte argues, is the point from where the German people had once again
to begin, and their aim should be to build a new form of state. They had to bear
in mind, however, that their state itself, ripped apart as it had been by war, was no
longer composed of one stock, but of two, those who possessed property and those
who had none. Far from being a coherent set of institutions with a specific and
noble purpose, the state was now in fact ‘enslaved’ by the owners. These are not the
state, they simply occupy the state, and it is for this reason that the state in the mod-
ern age has not yet progressed beyond the stage of being a patrimonial institution
based on private enterprise. We should therefore not be surprised if selfishness is the
true sign of the times. To counter this state of affairs, it is necessary to bring about a
regeneration of both the single individual and the multitude who, by following this
path, will truly become a people.

III.  Fichte as a Master of the Romantics

No investigation of Romanticism can be carried out without acknowledging the

difficulty of circumscribing and describing such a phenomenon. Like all other great
cultural movements, such as the Enlightenment, Romanticism developed differ-
ently and took on different forms in the different geographical areas in which it
took root. It is not by chance that I mention the Enlightenment, as the two move-
ments were closely connected, and it may be said that different configurations of
the Enlightenment determined different configurations of Romanticism. This was
certainly true for Germany: romanticism had visceral ties with the enlightenment,
in part as its natural continuation, in part as a conscious reaction against it. Both
also shared another characteristic, in that they became aware of their true essence
only as they were waning, as their vital charge had diminished.
A similar, though indeed more significant, difficulty may be detected in politi-
cal Romanticism, and a further consideration must be made when reflecting on
politics compared to philosophy. The direct antecedent here was no longer so much
German Enlightenment as its French and English equivalents.68 English thought
inspired German Romantics and offered them validation, while after some initial
enthusiasm they soon took up an attitude of strong antagonism against the lumi-
ères. When indeed some form of intellectual and spiritual agreement was shown,

67  Fichte, ‘Die Staatslehre’, in Nachgelassene Schriften 1813, pp. 58 ff (n. 63). To avoid misunder-
standings, it must be added that Fichte sees Napoleon as a world-​historical individual, harsh, and
unaware of mankind’s moral destiny, but proud and endowed with an unrelenting willpower and
enthusiasm.
68  Ulrich Scheuner, Der Beitrag der deutschen Romantik zur politischen Theorie (1980); Carl Schmitt,
Politische Romantik (1919).
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346 Carla De Pascale

this was always for the views elaborated by French émigré thinkers, who had long
left their country behind.
This picture nevertheless needs some adjustment and correction as regards the
role played by the younger Fichte; it was rather on the terrain of philosophy that
the earliest and strongest ties were developed. For example, Fichte was not only
an inspirer, but also an actual teacher, at Jena, of both Novalis and Friedrich von
Schlegel, both of whom (the former in particular) started their course of studies
with philosophy. Later, in their early political publications, they showed how close
they had remained to their master on some of his favourite themes of investigation.
I am referring here to the first period of Romanticism, generally divided by schol-
ars into successive phases, Jena being the first of these, followed by Heidelberg,
then Berlin and finally Vienna.69 At Jena, where he had just been taken on by
the university and had immediately become the rising star of modern philosophy,
Fichte became the catalyst of a young way of thinking (young not only because it
was developing just then, but also because the renewal and cultural rejuvenation
of culture were progressively adopted as its bywords). Apart from the more strictly
philosophical themes,70 Fichte’s legacy is perceivable in the ‘pacifist’ vision set out
in Novalis’ political writing, first and foremost in Die Christenheit oder Europa
(1799, published in 1826),71 but also in Glaube und Liebe, oder der König und die
Königin (1798).72 What might more properly be termed the Christian universalism
of Novalis has at its root the idea that it is necessary for religion to recover its found-
ing role, reinstating its ancient bond with politics. Incidentally, it was precisely the
newly found connection between religion and politics that would come to be the
defining character of political Romanticism, most of all in Germany.73
It is on the basis of this presupposition that Novalis assigned the duty of building
perpetual peace74 to the Pope, who would have to become first the promoter and
then the guarantor of such an initiative. While the steps that were being taken in
order to achieve the result of creating a ‘state of the states’ are not clear—​he says
nothing of possible alliances between different states—​what is certain is that his

69  Paul Kluckhohn, Das Ideengut der deutschen Romantik (1961); Jacques Droz, Le romantisme alle-
mand et l’état (1963).
70  In 1795, Novalis began to engage with Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre, writing the notes that would
later be published as Fichte-​Studien. Despite Novalis’ well-​known predilection for aphorisms and
for the publication of fragments, Fichte’s influence may also be felt in the project for an ‘encyclo-
pedia’ entrusted to the Allgemeines Brouillon (1798–​99), a project that was certainly not unaware of
Fichte’s plan to build a ‘system’ of philosophy. See Hannelore Link, ‘Zur Fichte-​Rezeption in der
Frühromantik’, in Richard Brinkmann (ed.), Romantik in Deutschland, pp. 355–​68; Theodor Haering,
Novalisals Philosoph (1954); on his political philosophy: pp. 444–​508.
71  In Paul Kluckhohn and Richard Samuel (eds.), Novalis Schriften (1968), vol. 3, pp. 495–​524.
72  Paul Kluckhohn and Richard Samuel (eds.), Novalis Schriften (1965), vol. 2, pp. 485–​98, where
peace appeared closely connected to the ideal of monarchy (p. 488). See Hans Wolfgang Kuhn, Die
Apokalyptiker und die Politik: Studien zur Staatsphilosophie des Novalis (1961).
73  See Carl Schmitt, Politische Theologie: Vier Kapitel zur Lehre der Souveranität (1934).
74  The concept is clearly expressed in the assumption, taken from Kant, that any other form of peace
is an illusion, being in actual fact an armistice: Novalis Schriften, vol. 3, p. 522 (n. 71).
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Fichte 347

model was the ancient Res Publica Christiana. The three Christian denominations
would ultimately reunite under the aegis of the Papacy.
Friedrich Schlegel was to a much greater extent inspired by the ideals of the
French Revolution and more interested in the political implications of Fichte’s
thought. In his essay on the concept of republicanism (1796),75 he had moved
from Kant’s text on perpetual peace, though his analysis had centred on an idea of
republicanism derived not from Kant, but from antiquity. From here came his ideal
of a universal republic united by a lasting peace and composed of a large number
of national republics. Many further texts may be quoted in this context, given the
vastness of the debate that took place in this period on the theme of peace76 and
war,77 but as our scope must here be limited to Fichte’s direct influences we will
not follow any further the development of these authors’ thoughts. Nor is it pos-
sible to examine in any greater depth the maturation of the thought of Friedrich
Schlegel. He would later subscribe to the ideal of the Empire, arriving, as other
thinkers also did, at a religious universalism, but would finally decide to abandon
Prussia and embrace the religious and political creed of Metternich’s Vienna. The
relationship between Fichte and the exponents of the early Romantic movement
could not but slacken as their respective positions took on more clear-​cut contours.
In the meantime, the polemic against the Enlightenment and against the legacy of
ideas of the French revolution had, at the beginning of the new century, progres-
sively abandoned the pacifist ideals. The rediscovery of the role of religion, which
had gone hand in hand with the re-​evaluation of the Middle Ages, had also brought
with it a re-​evaluation of wars conducted in the name of religion. An increasingly
important role was played by wars waged in the name of national freedom, in the
wake of Napoleon’s conquests, but also as a result of the recent developments in
political thought, which had put centre stage the construction of national unity and
in particular the elaboration of the concept of nation. Fichte’s future thought would
develop, as we have seen, precisely in this direction.

IV.  The Influence of Fichte in the Nineteenth

and Twentieth Centuries

If, having examined the vision of international relationships that emerges in Fichte’s
thought and its influence on his early pupils and followers, we wish to look at
the further developments and the actual impact of Fichte’s thought on later times,
we first have to limit carefully the field of investigation. It is crucial to isolate the
specific object of investigation against the much wider background of the general

75  Friedrich von Schlegel, ‘Versuch über den Begriff des Republikanismus’ in Kritische Neuausgabe
(1961), vol. 6, ed. Ernst Behler, pp. 11–​25.
76  See Zwi Batscha and Richard Saage (eds.), Friedensutopien. Kant, Fichte, Schlegel, Görres (1979).
77  It may be sufficient here to quote Adam Müller’s Die Elemente der Staatskunst, 2 vols. (1922),
whose opening pages are dedicated precisely to the concept of war, the founding principle of his vision
of politics and of the relationships between states.
348

348 Carla De Pascale

and enduring presence, over the space of two centuries, of his political philosophy.
Fichte’s legacy in this field was rather subtle and very far-​reaching, its range reflect-
ing the variety of positions he put forward in the various phases of his intellectual
production and the many nuances of his complex thought. One would therefore
have to start with the Fichtean echoes in the thought of the young exponents of the
Hegelian Left, beginning with David Friedrich Strauß, and later in Vormärz liberal-
ism (e.g. in Karl von Rotteck) and during the 1848 Revolution,78 in the socialism
of Lassalle, and through Marx and Engels,79 right down to Lenin. Alternatively, fol-
lowing another route, one might investigate the interpretations of Fichte’s thought
in the Wilhelmine era down to its rediscovery in the Nazi period; or again, those
interpretations which, even as late as the twentieth century, celebrated the demo-
cratic Fichte (Reinhard Strecker and Gerhard Leibholz) or the socialist Fichte (from
Jean Jaurès to Marianne Weber). Or one might decide to reconstruct the history
of the various editions and re-​editions of the philosopher’s works, as well as their
translations into foreign languages, which themselves were prompted by different
political and cultural climates. What I instead propose to do here is to delineate
briefly the evolution of the interest in Fichte’s thought in relation to the themes
discussed in my first two sections.
Following the first extremely vocal reactions to his writings of 1793–​1794, and
the accusations of Jacobinism by the conservative and reactionary milieu of the jour-
nal ‘Eudämonia’, and following the (more or less fierce) ironic attacks on the part
of many Romantics (with the exclusion of Friedrich Schlegel) to the Handelsstaat,
the earliest effects on the institutional plane were produced by Fichte’s Reden an die
deutsche Nation. These were initially and understandably obstructed by the occupy-
ing French. Their publication was later prevented by the Prussian authorities for
very different reasons. Napoleon had by then disappeared from the scene and the
political situation appeared to have stabilised after the Congress of Vienna. In1822,
Prussian censorship forbid publication of the Reden throughout the national terri-
tory, lest the ‘republicanism’ they advocated should find any followers.
The earliest date in which the Reden may be said to have enjoyed actual success
was 1862, which was marked by the celebrations of the first centenary of Fichte’s
birth,80 while being a period that saw a growing effort towards the achievement
of national unity. The most prominent voices in favour of Fichte’s philosophy—​
seen as representing a ‘nationalist’ strain that German thought had been capable
of expressing right from the start of the century—​hailed then from the socialist
and liberal camps.81 Such an interpretation hinged on the Reden, but also on the

78  This encouraged a return to Fichte’s vision: see Wilhelm Busse, J.G. Fichte und seine Beziehung zur
Gegenwart des deutschen Volkes (1848).
79  See Tom Rockmore, Fichte, Marx and the German Philosophical Tradition (1980).
80 With a great number of conferences organised by the Nationalverein:  see Claudio Cesa,
Introduzione a Fichte (1994), pp. 202 ff; Isaac Nakhimovsky, Perpetual Peace and Commercial Society
(2011).
81  With Ferdinand Lassalle and E.W. Kalisch, respectively: see Erich H. Fuchs, Fichtes Spuren in
der deutschen Nationalbewegung 1819–1871, Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, <https://www.
academia.edu/11529634/Fichtes_Spuren_in_der_deutschen_Nationalbewegung_1819–1871>; a
detailed account of three works by Lassalle which expressly deal with Fichte. Kalisch’s text may be
 349

Fichte 349

Grundzüge and the Staatslehre. Later, just as German unification was taking place,
another interpretation (also along these lines, but of much greater complexity) tried
to show how there had been, in Fichte’s work, an actual merger of the older surviv-
ing cosmopolitan spirit with the new sensibility for the value of the national char-
acters of individual peoples.82
However, this would not be the prevailing interpretation in the Wilhelmine-​
Bismarckian era. The lens through which Fichte now came to be interpreted was
that of the history of the making of German unification under the guidance of
Prussia, with Fichte being viewed as an early champion of Prussian hegemony.
This, for example, was the position of Heinrich von Treitschke, who believed the
philosopher to have been a forerunner of the ideas that inspired the national-​liberal
party, including a ‘power-​political’ vision that did not shy away from a celebration
of force and war.83 It was this vision that many historians, beginning with Friedrich
Meinecke, considered to be in general responsible for the aberrations of the Nazis
and, more specifically, for the rise of the nationalistic interpretation of Fichte in the
years between the two World Wars.84
In France, in the mid-​nineteenth century, Jules Barni, who had studied and trans-
lated Kant and subscribed to his cosmopolitan vision, saw Fichte as a genuine inter-
preter of the ideals of the revolution, ‘rejected’ by the France of Napoleon. With
evident anti-​Bonapartist intent, Barni offered his country the first translations of
the Beitrag and of the Zurückforderung (he had been amongst the founders in 1848
of the Democratic Society of Free Thinkers). He inaugurated an interpretative tra-
dition which stretches out as far as Xavier Léon (the author of the most important
historiographic work on Fichte in France: Fichte et son temps, in three volumes,
1922–​1927) and Martial Gueroult, who on the 150th anniversary of the French
revolution dedicated an essay specifically to Fichte and the French Revolution.85
The strongly nationalistic interpretation prevalent in twentieth-​century Germany
had, it must be noted, already gradually been forming during and immediately
after the First World War, concomitantly with various reprints of Fichte’s works,
first and foremost his work on Machiavelli. This interpretation had originated,
already in Fichte’s time, in Friedrich Ludwig Jahn’s Deutsches Volksthum (1810),
and had in time matured into the already-​quoted interpretation of Heinrich von
Treitschke, who had placed Fichte side by side with Ernst Moritz Arndt, which

found in 1812-​1814 (1991), vol. 5, Erich Fuchs (ed.), Fichte im Gespräch. Berichte der Zeitgenossen,
pp. 33–​9.
82  Johann Huber, Das Verhältnis der deutschen Philosophie zur nationalen Erhebung (1871).
83  Heinrich von Treitschke, ‘Fichte und die Nationalidee’, in Deutsche Lebensbilder (1927), pp.
34–​69, part. pp. 35, 53, 54.
84  The most comprehensive study on this remains Reiner Pesch, Die Politische Philosophie Fichtes
und ihre Rezeption im Nationalsozialismus (1982), where bibliography relative to the authors I have
just mentioned may be found; see especially pp. 103 ff. See also Erich Fuchs, ‘Fichte Stammvater des
deutschen Nationalismus?’, Fichte-​Studien 35 (2010), pp. 267–​384.
85 Cesa, Introduzione a Fichte, pp. 203, 220 (n. 80); Michel Espagne, ‘Die Wirkung der Fichte-​
Rezeption auf das Revolutionverständnis’, in Republik der Menschheit. Französische Revolution und
deutsche Philosophie, eds. Manfred Buhr et al. (1989), pp. 76–​103.
350

350 Carla De Pascale

was no coincidence; this line of interpretation was further developed by Othmar
Spann,86 Alfred Baeumler and Hans Freyer.87
After the Second World War, philosophical studies also followed the impulse
towards rebuilding and reconstructing, the object in this case being consciences.
This movement was propelled by an ideal (​we may even go so far as to call it an ethi-
cal) d
​ rive. As occurs in such exceptional historical moments, a renewal of interest
took place, which was sustained, if not by the aim of objectivity, at least by the need
for a better understanding of Fichte.

V. Conclusion

To conclude, we can briefly reflect on the different stages of Fichte’s argument

that have been presented in this chapter. Fichte developed his international legal
thought mostly in close relationship to Kantian cosmopolitanism, preferring like
him a confederation of states as the model that could guarantee perpetual peace.
In suggesting this construct, he was remarkably influenced by the German consti-
tutional question. Much more than Kant, however, he highlighted the role of the
economic relationships within the state as a central determinant for the relation-
ships between states.
What is more, in his further intellectual career, he takes a turn towards observa-
tions on the importance of cultural homogeneity, culture and the role of history.
These elements put him in line with another tradition of international legal thought,
that is Machiavelli and Montesquieu.88 With a combination of the Kantian system-
atic structure and these ideas, he became one of the most important thinkers in
German Romanticism.

Selected Bibliography
Cesa, Claudio, ‘Recensori di Kant: Fichte e Schlegel’, Teoria politica, vol. XI, Issue 2 (1995),
pp. 33–​45.
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, Gesamtausgabe der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften,
Reinhard Lauth, Erich Fuchs, Hans Gliwitzky (eds.) (Stuttgart-​ Bad Cannstatt:
Frommann Verlag, 1962–2012).
[Friedrich von Hardenberg], Novalis Schriften, Paul Kluckhohn and Richard Samuel (eds.),
5 vols. (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1960ff).
De Pascale, Carla, ‘Das Völkerrecht (‘Zweiter Anhang’)’, in Jean-Christophe Merle (ed.),
Fichtes Grundlage des Naturrechts (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2001), pp. 197–​210.

86  The editor of a collection of Fichte’s writings on the philosophy of society, including the Reden an
die deutsche Nation, vol. 15, Die Herdflamme (1928).
87  Who had worked on a new edition of the Reden in 1933, had published in 1936 an essay on
Fichte’s Ueber Machiavell, als Schrifsteller and in 1938 another on Fichte and Machiavelli, in addition
to Hans Freyer, ‘Johann Gottlieb Fichte’, in Sächsische Lebensbilder, vol. 2 (1938), pp. 114–​31.
88  See contributions of Volk and Roth-​Isigkeit, in this volume.
 351

Fichte 351
De Pascale, Carla, ‘Le droit cosmopolitique comme synthèse du droit’, in Jean-​Francois
Kervégan (ed.), Raison pratique et normativité chez Kant : Droit, politique et cosmopolitique
(Lyon: Ecole Normale Supérieure, 2010), pp. 199–​211.
Oncina Coves, Faustino, ‘Para la Paz Perpetua de Kant y el Fundamento del derecho natural de
Fichte: encuentros ydesencuentros’, Λαίμων, Revista de Filosofía, vol. 9 (1994), 223–​339.
Rockmore, Tom and Breazeale, Daniel (eds.), Fichte, German Idealism and Early Romanticism,
Fichte-​Studien Supplementa, vol. 24 (Leiden/​Boston: Brill, 2010).
von Schlegel, Friedrich, Kritische Neuausgabe, Ernst Behler (ed.) (Paderborn-​ Wien-​
München: Schöningh, 1958ff).
Vlachos, Georges, Fédéralisme et raison d’état dans la pensée internationale de Fichte
(Paris: Editions A. Pedone, 1948).
352

17
The Plurality of States and the World Order
of Reason
On Hegel’s Understanding of International Law
and Relations

Sergio Dellavalle

By addressing Hegel’s conception of international law and relations we come face to

face with a paradox. Although Hegel can hardly be seen as a thinker who concen-
trated his research on international law and relations, he was nevertheless chosen
to be the ombudsman of that strand of political and legal thought that pleaded for
moving away from the cosmopolitism of the enlightenment era and for endorsing
the centrality of the nation state.1 However, if we consider the question more in
depth, we can see that this interpretation of Hegel’s political philosophy as one of
the theoretical sources of the shift from universalism to particularism at the begin-
ning of the nineteenth century is far from self-​evident. Starting, therefore, from a
methodological doubt as regards this well-​established interpretation, Section I of
this chapter presents the main contents of Hegel’s conception of international law
and relations.2
To understand whether the interpretation of Hegel as the leading philosopher of
German nationalism and state power is really convincing, I have put his thought,
in Section II, within the context of the paradigms of social order that had been
developed until his time. The surprising result is that he was no coherent advocate
of any of the established paradigms. In other words, while he was surely no cosmo-
politan universalist in the sense that was common before him, he did not support
the particularism of the classic school either.3

1  Hermann Heller, Hegel und der nationale Machtstaatsgedanke in Deutschland (1921); Friedrich
Meinecke, Weltbürgertum und Nationalstaat (1922), p. 278.
2  For an overview of Hegel’s theory of international law and relations, see also David Boucher,
Political Theories of International Relations (1998), p. 330; William E. Conklin, Hegel’s Laws (2008),
p. 270.
3  On Hegel’s ambiguity as regards the legacy of the enlightenment, see Norberto Bobbio, Studi
hegeliani (1981); Steven B. Smith, ‘Hegel’s Views on War, the State and International Relations’, The
American Political Science Review 77 (1983), 624.

The Plurality of States and the World Order of Reason: On Hegel’s Understanding of International Law and
Relations. Sergio Dellavalle. © Sergio Dellavalle, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
 35

Hegel 353

Instead, he can rather be regarded as the philosopher who, as first, paved the way
to a new paradigm of order and, thus, also to a new idea of the relation between the
state and international law. The final Section III is dedicated to a critical assessment
of this hypothesis.

I.  Hegel’s Theory of International Law and Relations

International law and international relations are rather minor topics in Hegel’s work
for at least three reasons. Firstly, considerations on the issue appear relatively late in
the evolution of his thought. Secondly, even in the works in which it is addressed,
little space is dedicated to the subject. Thirdly, Hegel’s view on international law and
international relations does not show the same richness and variants of approaches
that typifies his presentation of other issues of political and legal philosophy.
As regards the first point, it may be quite surprising that either his early texts
do not contain any reference to the question, or the references are concentrated
on only one topic, namely war, or, lastly, insofar as the first attempts to construe a
system of political philosophy require a general overview on all components of the
matter, the legal and political relations among states are only seen from a negative
perspective. The silence on the topic concerns, in general, all manuscripts from the
Bern and Frankfurt period.4 In contrast to a large part of the political philosophy of
the late seventeenth and of the eighteenth century, which always located individuals
and states within the broader context of the law of peoples, Hegel’s political interest
seems to narrow down the horizon to the development of just the single political
community. Not by chance, yet: whereas the philosophers of the enlightenment
understood the homo politicus in terms of his essential, natural, and universal char-
acteristics, building this way the bridge between the societas civilis, or the indi-
vidual commonwealth, and the jus gentium, Hegel concentrates his attention on
the social conflicts within the single political order. As a consequence, the driving
force of human evolution is not the aspiration to fully realize an abstract concept
of humanity any longer, but the concrete struggle that unfold between individuals
and social groups within the most immediate context, namely each single society.
Hegel’s unprecedented sensibility for social processes and conflicts is thus achieved
at the quite not irrelevant cost of a nearly complete blindness for the phenomena of
the international realm. Hegel’s indifference towards the international dimension is
testified—​for the last time and in the most systematic way—​in his First Philosophy
of Spirit of 1803–​1804.5 In this second attempt, after the System of Ethical Life of
1802–​1803, to construe a comprehensive understanding of society, law, and poli-
tics, the forms taken in its evolution by the ‘spirit’ (Geist)—​Hegel’s definition for
the expressions of the self-​realization of the individual in relation to its conscience,

4  Respectively, from 1793 to 1796 and from 1797 to 1801.

5 The First Philosophy of Spirit dates back to the period that Hegel spent at the university of Jena,
where he stood, first as a Privatdozent and then as an extraordinary professor, from 1801 to 1807.
354

354 Sergio Dellavalle

to other individuals, as well as to the social world—​pass directly from the strug-
gles within the individual society to the whole of the ‘people’ (Volk) as the highest
manifestation of the ethical life.6
However, an element coming from the world of international relations—​indeed
the most disruptive of all, i.e. war—​attracted Hegel’s attention even before his first
lectures in Jena on the Philosophy of Spirit in 1803–​1804. In fact, his idea con-
cerning war’s ethical significance had been already highlighted for the first time
a couple of years before, in his script on The German Constitution of 1801–​1802.
His understanding shows already here a content which will be maintained, in its
essential form, until the mature works: war is the condition in which ‘the strength
of the association between all [individuals] and the whole is displayed’.7 In other
words, war is the phenomenon that overcomes the unfettered selfishness of the
individuals, making them aware of the superiority of the interests of the commu-
nity. This interpretation was then resumed and clarified in the essay on Natural Law
of 1802–​1803, where Hegel introduced his definition according to which war is
‘the blowing of the wind that preserves the sea from the foulness which would be
the result of a prolonged calm’.8
Therefore, in Hegel’s perspective the realm of international relations is essentially
characterized by war. As a result, it is negative because it has the fundamental task of
negating the excessive self-​reliance of individuals.9 The negative interpretation typifies
also what can be regarded as the first proper mention of international law and rela-
tions that Hegel made in his philosophical system, beyond the usual reference to
the meaning of war. Indeed, in his Jena lectures of 1805–​1806—​also known as the
Third Philosophy of Spirit—​Hegel already refers to many of the features attributed
to international law and relations in the later works:
The relation [between nations] is partly the placid subsistence of individuals independent of
one another –​[i.e.] sovereignty –​[and] partly [their] connection through agreements. These
agreements do not, however, have the actuality of a true contract. There is no existent power
in them, but rather the ‘individual’ that is the nation (Volksindividuum) is likewise the uni-
versal as existing power. [International agreements] must not be regarded, therefore, in the
way that civil contracts are. They have no binding force as soon as one of the parties annuls
them. This is the eternal deception, in concluding treaties, to obligate oneself and then to let

6  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Jenaer Systementwürfe I: Das System der spekulativen Philosophie,
eds. Klaus Düsing and Heinz Kimmerle (1986), p. 217; trans. G.W.F. Hegel, System of Ethical Life and
First Philosophy of Spirit, eds. H.S. Harris and T.M. Knox (1979).
7  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Die Verfassung Deutschlands’, in Frühe Schriften (1971), vol. 1,
Werke in zwanzig Bänden, pp. 461–​581, at p. 462; trans. G.W.F. Hegel, ‘The German Constitution’,
in Laurence Dickey and H.B. Nisbet (eds.), Political Writings (1999).
8  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Über die wissenschaftlichen Behandlungsarten des Naturrechts,
seine Stelle in der praktischen Philosophie und sein Verhältnis zu den positiven Rechtswissenschaften’,
in Jenaer Schriften 1801–​1807 (1971), vol. 2, Werke in zwanzig Bänden, pp. 434–​530, at 482; trans.
G.W.F. Hegel, Natural Law, trans. T.M. Knox (1975).
9  This interpretation is reiterated also in the System of Ethical Life, which Hegel wrote shortly after
the essay on Natural Law. See Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘System der Sittlichkeit’, in Schriften
zur Politik und Rechtsphilosophie, ed. Georg Lasson (2nd edn, 1923), pp. 413–​99, at p. 460; trans.
G.W.F. Hegel, System of Ethical Life (n. 6).
 35

Hegel 355
that obligation evaporate. A general confederation of nations (Volkerverein) for permanent
peace would mean the supremacy of one nation, or it would mean there is only one nation
(the individuality of nations suppressed), a universal monarchy.10
We find here, thus, the individuality of the state and its sovereignty, the plurality
of the international realm, the limited normative force of international treaties,
and the criticism against the cosmopolitan project—​quite the whole repertoire of
Hegel’s interpretation of international law and relations in outline. Nevertheless,
the role played by them within the system is different. International law and rela-
tions do not mark, here, the passage from the individuality of states to a kind of
mundane universality—​imperfect, indeed, but nonetheless located beyond the self-
ishness of the single polities. They have just the function—​only attributed to war
in the earlier works, and now assigned to the specific conditions of interaction that
characterize international law and relations as a whole—​of making the members
of the single polity aware of their shared interests and of their ethical unity. For
the first time in the evolution of Hegel’s thought, the system draft of 1805–​1806
culminates with what he will later call the ‘absolute spirit’, i.e. with ‘art, religion,
and science’, and not with the constitution of the ethical polity.11 In contrast to the
later works, the universality of the non-​material spheres of human experience and
knowledge arises here, in an almost abrupt way, from the internal processes of the
single polity, without passing through the yet worldly, but nonetheless universal
dimension of international law. As a result, international law and relations have just
a negative sense in systemic perspective since they do not represent a step on the way
to the accomplished universality in the realm of the ‘absolute spirit’, but only serve
to maintain and strengthen the selfishness of the individual political community—​
precisely that selfishness which, albeit highly ethical, has to be overcome, starting
by the Jena lectures of 1805–​1806, by the artistic, religious, and scientific (lastly
philosophical) expressions of human experience and knowledge.
To find a positive meaning of international law and relations in Hegel’s system
we have to look further on his way to a comprehensive philosophical system. In
fact, the stronger became the systematic ambition of the probably most systematic
thinker of the whole history of philosophy, the more intense was the need to give
a positive interpretation to almost all dimensions of human life, thus also to the
unsteady relations among states. In Hegel’s mature system, indeed, almost every
aspect of human experience—​despite its limitedness—​embodies a kind of partial
truth on the way to the discovery of the absolute idea. Furthermore, Hegel’s inter-
est shifted progressively from the analysis of the conditions for the realization of a
strong, unitary, and ethical community, to the affirmation of the superior universal-
ity of the intellectual spheres of the ‘absolute spirit’, to which also the incomplete
universality of international law could already be seen as a move forward if compared

10  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Jenaer Systementwürfe III: Naturphilosophie und Philosophie des
Geistes, ed. Rolf-​Peter Horstmann (1987), p. 250; trans. G.W.F. Hegel, Hegel and the Human Spirit,
trans. Leo Rauch (1983).
11 Hegel, Jenaer Systementwürfe III, p. 253 (n. 10).
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356 Sergio Dellavalle

to the narrow self-​reliance of the single polity. As a result, in his Heidelberg lectures
on the Philosophy of Right of 1817–​1818—​the first he held on this subject—​12
still international relations are a kind of state of nature, international law is weak,
and war is pandemic among states. Nevertheless, the function of war does not
consist any longer in just strengthening the internal cohesion of the state. Quite
the opposite, ‘in war the self-​reliance of a people is exposed to contingency’, so that
‘the universal world spirit maintains the higher right on the peoples.’13 The task of
war is thus, now, to make the contingency of the assumed self-​reliance of the states
evident, bringing about the passage from the ethical life of the self-​referent political
community to a higher stage of the self-​realization of the spirit, i.e. to the universal-
ity of world history and, then, of art, religion and science. Indeed, ‘the self-​reliance
[of the peoples] is nothing absolute, and can perish; something higher, the spirit of
the world, is above it, and the rights of peoples vanish where the spirit of the world
appears.’14 The same concept was then repeated in all lectures held by Hegel on the
Philosophy of Right as well as in the published book on the Elements of the Philosophy
of Rights. In the Encyclopaedia of the Philosophical Sciences we can find, then, the
most lapidary formulation and the evident proof that Hegel had changed his mind
as regards the role of war within the whole of the system: ‘in the state of war the
independence of states is at stake’15—​and precisely this frailty of the individual
communities is what allows the spirit to develop further.
Between the Heidelberg period and Hegel’s call to the Berlin university, thus,
international law and relations—​and even war—​found their definitive and positive
place within the philosophical system, as a necessary step on the way to the higher
self-​realization of the spirit, between the individuality of state constitution and the
universality of world history. On this basis, Hegel developed a more detailed con-
ception of the subject which was first presented in the above-​mentioned Heidelberg
lecture on the Philosophy of Right of 1817–​1818 as well as in two further courses
in Berlin in 1818–​181916 and 1819–​1820.17 It was then published as part of the

12  Hegel’s professorship at the university of Heidelberg—the first full professorship in his career—​
lasted for just two academic years (1816–​1818), coming after the even shorter period as a newspaper
editor in Bamberg (1807–​1808) and the time as a headmaster of a Gymnasium in Nuremberg (1808–​
1816), and preceding the call to the Berlin university (1818).
13 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft.
Heidelberg 1817/​18. Nachgeschrieben von P. Wannenmann’, ed. Claudia Becker et al., in Vorlesungen:
Ausgewählte Nachschriften und Manuskripte, vol. 1 (1983), p. 254; trans. G.W.F. Hegel, Lectures on
Natural Right and Political Science, trans. J. Michael Steward and Peter C. Hodgson (1995) [trans. by
the author].
14 Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft’, p. 255 (n. 13) [trans. by the
author].
15 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Enzyklopädie der philosophischen Wissenschaften im
Grundrisse (1830):  Dritter Teil. Die Philosophie des Geistes’, ed. Ludwig Boumann (1845), in
Werke in zwanzig Bänden, vol. 10, p. 346; trans. G.W.F. Hegel, Philosophy of Mind. Part Three of the
Encyclopaedia of the Philosophical sciences, trans. William Wallace (2007).
16  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft:  Nach der
Vorlesungsnachschrift von C.G. Homeyer 1818–​19’, in Vorlesungen über Rechtsphilosophie 1818–​
1831, ed. Karl-​Heinz Ilting (1973), vol. 1.
17  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Vorlesungen über die Philosophie des Rechts. Berlin 1819–​1820:
Nachgeschrieben von Johann Rudolf Ringier, ed. Emil Angehrn et al. (2000).
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Hegel 357

Elements of the Philosophy of Right (Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts)—​officially

printed in 1821, but actually already released in 1820. Two more courses on the
Philosophy of Right followed, after this publication, in 1822–​182318 and 1824–​
1825,19 whereas the lecture of 1822–​1823 does not contain the usual references to
international law and relations. The lecture of 1824–​1825 was the last occasion in
which Hegel explicitly addressed the issue in depth, while a shorter version of the
Philosophy of Right, including a brief presentation of international law and rela-
tions, was inserted into the Encyclopaedia.20
Yet, although international law and relations, starting from the Heidelberg
period, had come to have a relevant role to play within the whole structure of the
system, the topic still does not seem to attract Hegel’s highest interest, which is
always more concentrated on what comes before and after it. Indeed, whereas we
have detailed analysis of the constitution of the state, as well as of world history,
art, religion, and philosophy, the analysis of international law and relations always
remains limited to the essential features. As a consequence, in his most important
work on political and legal philosophy Hegel dedicated to the issue just twenty,
rather short paragraphs—​from § 321 to § 340 inclusive.21 The presentation, here,
is divided into two parts: the first one—​called ‘Sovereignty vis-​à-​vis Foreign States’
(Souveränität gegen außen)—​is yet inserted into the chapter on the ‘Constitution
of the State’ or ‘Internal State Law’ (inneres Staatsrecht), while the second builds a
chapter on its own, with the title ‘External State Law’ (äußeres Staatsrecht), which
is located between the chapters on the ‘Constitution of the State’ and on ‘World
History’ (Weltgeschichte).
This two-​parts structure characterizes also Hegel’s lectures of 1819–​1820 and
1824–​1825 on the subject, while the two former courses of 1817–​1818 and 1818–​
1819 present the matter in only one section called ‘External State Law’, omitting
thus the part on ‘Sovereignty vis-​à-​vis Foreign States’ as a subsection of the ‘Internal
State Law’, and the course of 1822–​1823 completely avoids addressing the topic.
As regards Hegel’s lectures on political philosophy, it has to be kept in mind that
we know them from notes and postscripts laid down by students who wrote them
according to their own individual criteria, which might have been quite different
and are always difficult to be critically assessed. Nonetheless, aside from the lastly
marginal structural differences, it is not possible to work out for Hegel’s conception
on international law and relations—​as for other aspects of his political thought—​
significant divergences, and maybe also some tensions, between the published work

18  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Philosophie des Rechts: Nach der Vorlesungsnachschrift von
H.G. Hotho 1822–​23’ in Vorlesungen über Rechtsphilosophie 1818–​1831, ed. Karl-​Heinz Ilting (1973),
vol. 3.
19 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Philosophie des Rechts:  Nach der Vorlesungsnachschrift
K.G. v. Griesheims 1824–​25’, in Vorlesungen über Rechtsphilosophie 1818–​1831, ed. Karl-​Heinz Ilting
(1973), vol. 4.
20  See Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft: Heidelberg 1817–​18’, p. 255
(n. 13).
21  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts’, in Werke in zwanzig
Bänden, vol. 7, p. 490; trans. G.W.F. Hegel, Philosophy of Right, trans. S.W. Dyde (1896).
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358 Sergio Dellavalle

and the Heidelberg and Berlin lectures. Rather, it can be maintained that his theory
of international law and relations not only takes little place in his works but also
that its main tenets remain largely unchanged during the whole Heidelberg and
Berlin period, i.e. since it was granted a positive systematic meaning. For that rea-
son, I will analyse the three most important elements of Hegel’s theory of interna-
tional law and relations—​namely state sovereignty, the pluralism of international
relations, and international law as ‘external state law’—​relying mostly on the pub-
lished Grundlinien and referring to the lectures only in the few cases when a topic
is presented there in more details or in the even fewer cases when a significant
divergence can be fleshed out.22

1. State sovereignty
One of the most relevant features of Hegel’s conception of the state—​and surely
the most important for his understanding of international law and relations—​is
the centrality of sovereignty. According to Hegel, the concept of state sovereignty
expresses the specificity of the realization of the spirit (Geist) within the social and
political context. As manifestation of the explicitly human—​individual as well as
interpersonal—​dimensions of reality and knowledge, the spirit develops in Hegel’s
system after the one-​sided abstraction of logical thinking and the no less unilateral
concreteness of nature. While articulating itself in different shapes—​from the psy-
chological components of the subject to law and morality, and from civil society
and state to the higher spheres of the absolute knowledge that can be achieved
through art, religion, and philosophy—​the spirit conciliates thinking and world-
liness, abstraction and reality. The first stage of the self-​realization of the spirit
consists—​as always in Hegel’s triadic dialectics—​in a kind of individual limited-
ness and self-​reliance, in this case in the expressions of the subjective psychology.
Beyond the solipsistic dimension which is connatural to the ‘subjective spirit’ as
the manifestation of the psyche, the spirit dives into the concrete and interpersonal
world of social and political relations. Also here, once again, the first steps are the
most abstract and limited: the ‘law’ as the only external obligation,23 and ‘morality’
as the just internal duty.24 The next stages, in which external compulsion is com-
bined with interior commitment, build the spheres of ‘ethical life’ (Sittlichkeit),
with ‘family’,25 ‘civil society’,26 and the ‘state’ as its apex.27
In Hegel’s conception, the state is thus ‘the spirit which is in the world and
realizes itself in the world’.28 Within the state, freedom materializes as the most
accomplished feature of human nature, although not in the sense of the decision-​
making capacity of the individuals—​generally assumed to be the essential epistemic

22  See e.g. infra, n. 89. 23  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, §§ 34 ff, p. 92 (n. 21).
24  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, §§ 105 ff, p. 203 (n. 21).
25  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, §§ 158 ff, p. 307 (n. 21).
26  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, §§ 182 ff, p. 339 (n. 21).
27  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, §§ 257 ff, p. 398 (n. 21).
28  Hegel, ‘Philosophie des Rechts 1824/​25’, § 258, p. 632 (n. 19) [trans. by the author].
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Hegel 359

attribute of free humans by the liberal and democratic political thinking—​but as

the willingness by the individual to make the largely predetermined values and
interests of the community to his/​her own. Regardless of the doubts that we can
understandingly cast on Hegel’s essentially anti-​individualistic and lastly illiberal
understanding of freedom, it is nevertheless clear, in his perspective, that the state
is the highest form that the spirit—​as the properly human dimension of the ‘idea’
(Idee) as the whole sum of reality and knowledge—​can take in the social and politi-
cal dimension and, thus, within the horizon of social order. Nonetheless, even in
Hegel’s view the state is afflicted by a deficit: indeed, since the spirit externalize itself
here into the realm of reality, its inherent universality becomes obfuscated by this
move—​as always happens in Hegel’s system when the universality of the idea takes
a real shape and must therefore accept compromises with the material dimension
of the world. Whereas the universality of the idea hides itself behind the manifold
appearances of nature, the universal validity of the spirit forfeits its immediate evi-
dence by its concretization in the plurality of states and constitutions. As a result of
the material dimension of the world, in the context of which the unity of the spirit
must recede, states form a pluriverse, never merging into a universe. The realization
of the spirit in the world happens, therefore, at the cost of an alienation which can
only be removed if the spirit overcomes the plurality of states, thus regaining its
explicit and evident universality.
The immediate consequence of the externalization—​or alienation—​of the spirit
into the plurality of the political reality is that the state, in Hegel’s view, must have
‘individuality’.29 In the real world, characterized by diversification and plurality,
every appearance of the spirit is insofar ‘individual’ as it refers with priority to itself,
whereas the universal rationality of the whole is expressed rather in the form of an
‘invisible hand’ or—​with Hegel’s words—​as a ‘cunning of reason’.30 Furthermore,
depending on the categories of subjectivism which Hegel adopted in his mature
works, one of the most important features that make an actor a real ‘individual’
consists in his/​her capacity of acting according to his/​her personal preferences and
without external constraint. As a result, every ‘individual’ polity shall act, at least in
its self-​perception, keeping with priority—​if not exclusively—​its own interests in
mind and thus, as a result of this self-​reliant approach to the world, as a ‘sovereign’.
Hegel’s theory of the state as a sovereign individuality has three effects. The first
is that the state has a right to suspend—​and eventually also to annihilate—​the
self-​reference and autonomy of its citizens. Concretely, this means that the sover-
eign polity, in order to establish itself within the conflictful pluriverse of states, is
authorized to make use of the private property of its citizens for its own purposes
and, under extreme circumstances, even to require from them the sacrifice of their
lives.31 This way, within the overhuman whole of state individuality even the most

29  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 321, p. 490 (n. 21).

30 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Die Vernunft in der Geschichte’, in Vorlesungen über die
Philosophie der Weltgeschichte, ed. Johannes Hoffmeister (1994), vol. 1, p. 105; trans. G.W.F. Hegel,
Lectures on the Philosophy of World History: Introduction, Reason in History, trans. H.B. Nisbet (1980).
31  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 278, p. 442 (n. 21).
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360 Sergio Dellavalle

essential interests of the private and concrete individuals are neglected in the name
of the establishment of the totality—​quite without granting to the citizens an ade-
quate forum to express their justified claims.
The second consequence is that every state is closed in itself towards other poli-
ties, so that it stands necessarily against them. Every state individuality is indeed—​
according to Hegel’s words—​‘a singleness which has incorporated these subsistent
differences into itself and so is a unit, exclusive of other units’.32
The third—​and last—​effect is that foreign policy is located among the powers
of the crown. In fact, since the state is an individual vis-​à-​vis other states, it has to
be represented before them by a single and real individuality, namely the monarch.
In particular, Hegel explicitly refers to his power ‘to command the armed forces, to
conduct foreign affairs through ambassadors & c., to make war and peace, and to
conclude treaties of all kinds’.33

2. Pluralism in international relations

From the concept of state sovereignty Hegel derives his conception of international
relations. In its attitude towards other political communities, every state—​as a sov-
ereign and exclusive individuality—​is aware ‘of one’s existence as a unit in sharp
distinction from others’.34 In international relations, states stand against each other
as an individual against another individual. This view does not imply, however,
that the world of relations among states is affected by a condition of uninterrupted
conflicts and struggles. What Hegel wants to flesh out, here, is rather that in the
international world the specificity of each single actor has absolute priority—​at
least from its selfish and individual perspective. The consequence is that no reliable
supra-​state order can be built, so that tensions as well as their degeneration into war
can always be possible. Yet, Hegel’s argument starts—​unlike Carl Schmitt’s—​35
from the essential and idiosyncratic identity of each individual polity, introducing
only in a second step the pandemic character of conflict. In other words, the some-
times hostile relationship between political communities is, in Hegel’s view, the
occasionally inevitable consequence of the affirmation of the single identities36—​in
the absence of a worldwide institutional and legal framework—​and not the exis-
tential essence of the ‘political’ from which, in Schmitt’s opposite argumentative
itinerary, the distinctiveness of a community shall emerge. In fact, the ‘political’
consists for Hegel primarily in the organization of the ethical life, and not in the
struggle for existential self-​affirmation.
Therefore, Hegel cannot be regarded as a kind of early supporter of the concep-
tion of the friend–​enemy dualism as the essence of the ‘political’. Nonetheless,

32  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 321, p. 490 (n. 21).

33  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 329, p. 497 (n. 21).
34  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 322, p. 490 (n. 21).
35  Carl Schmitt, Der Begriff des Politischen: Text von 1932 mit einem Vorwort und drei Corollarien
(1963); trans. C. Schmitt, The Concept of the Political, trans. George Schwab (1976).
36  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 323, p. 491 (n. 21).
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Hegel 361

we find in his work the thesis that the insistence on the identity of the political
community in contraposition to the ‘others’ as well as, eventually, open conflicts
against them may strengthen the internal stability since ‘successful wars have
checked domestic unrest and consolidated the power of the state at home’.37
Moreover, an ‘ethical moment’ is attributed to war38 insofar as it submits every
particularistic and short-​termed interest of the individuals—​as his/​her self-​
realization, happiness, property, and even life—​to the priorities of the long-​
lasting institutions of ethical life or, even more significant, to the universalistic
teleology of history. Towards the state and the spirit of the world, which come
to the fore during war, the single individual experiences quite clearly his/​her
marginality.
Hegel refrains explicitly from the theory of just war.39 In an international arena
in which no supra-​state norms are recognized and respected and no international
organization has competence and power in case of conflicts, every individual
state is lastly judge in its own account. When the principle of the defence of
one’s own interest suggests to wage war, a casus belli will be captiously but easily
found. Regardless of whether a breach of treaties is declared or ‘an injury to the
honour and autonomy of the state,’40 no independent authority will ever check
whether the justification is legitimate. This way, war becomes a rightful instru-
ment for the settlement of disputes between states: ‘if states disagree and their
particular wills cannot be harmonised, the matter can only be settled by war’.41
If confronted with the difficult decision between peace and war, those who are
in charge of the interests of the polity shall opt for the reason of state, i.e. for the
egoistic advantage of the single community,42 and not for ‘a universal thought
(the thought of philanthropy)’ or for abstract ‘universal thoughts supposed to be
moral commands’.43
As regards the organization of the military, Hegel underlines the necessity of
standing armies, whereas he considers compulsory military service inevitable only
in times of acute danger.44 On this point, he remains largely bound to the under-
standing of warfare of the eighteenth century and seems not to penetrate fully the
novelties introduced by the social, ideological, and also military mobilization as a
consequence of the Napoleonic wars. Evidently wrong—​and fully defying the later
developments of history—​was then Hegel’s prediction according to which wars, as
a result of technological progress, would become more humane and less brutal for
the individuals, regardless of the persistent danger to life, because of the decrease in
importance of hand-​to-​hand combat.45

37  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 324, p. 493 (n. 21).

38  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 324, p. 492 (n. 21).
39  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 334, p. 500 (n. 21).
40 Ibid.
41 Ibid.
42  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 336, p. 501 (n. 21).
43  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 337, p. 501 (n. 21).
44  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 326, p. 494 (n. 21).
45  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 328, p. 496 (n. 21).
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362 Sergio Dellavalle

3. International law as ‘external state law’

On the basis of Hegel’s understanding of state sovereignty and inter-​state rela-
tions, international law can only have limited effectivity and a low-​level normativ-
ity. Because states are thought to be self-​reliant, inter-​state agreements are always
dependent on the selfish will of everyone of them. As a result, treaties are inevi-
tably fragile and, not being rooted in any context of concrete ethical life—​which
is assumed to be impossible beyond the state—​build a system of purely abstract
norms. As regards this point, it has to be underlined that in Hegel’s view the nor-
mative content of a system of norms is always strictly intertwined with its social
effectiveness. Therefore, it is at its best in the ‘ethical’ spheres within the state, while
international law, due to its specific uncertainty, is considered to be rather near to a
kind of moral duty, or—​in Hegel’s words—​to a pure ‘ought-​to-​be’ (Sollen).46 Even
the highest principle of international law, namely that treaties have to be respected
(pacta sunt servanda), is regarded by Hegel as a just formal and lastly empty, if not
hypocritical obligation, which is left in the hands of the actual balance of power and
of the arbitrary decisions of the individual states.47
Despite its limitedness, international law builds nevertheless—​even accord-
ing to Hegel—​a normative reality, albeit of a lower rank than the ‘ethical life’
within the state. The first function that Hegel attributes to the jus gentium
derives from states’ aspiration to recognition: indeed, by signing treaties they
mutually acknowledge each other as sovereign entities.48 Nonetheless, this kind
of recognition is just formal and refers only to the external sovereign individu-
ality of states. In other words, it is assumed not to affect the internal constitu-
tion, so that the legitimacy of the political order is still a purely internal matter.
Yet, Hegel admits an exception: if the internal constitution of a state becomes
a threat for other polities, these are allowed to refuse recognition as well as to
require that the internal constitution of the threatening state is changed.49 Hegel
points out, moreover, that a recognition according to international law is only
possible between states that have overcome the stage of a purely religious iden-
tity in favour of a political one, realized in the forms of a largely secular ethical
life:50 although Hegel never underestimates the religious influence during the
formation process of the modern society, only an essentially political state with
its laical institutions can be a subject of international law.
A further function of international law consists, according to Hegel, in regulating
inter-​state interests and questions—​as well as also low-​intensity disputes—​albeit
only in a provisional and sometimes aleatoric way.51 Yet, he emphasizes how thin
the content of such treaties is if compared with the comprehensiveness of the legal

46  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 330, p. 497 (n. 21).

47  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 333, p. 499 (n. 21).
48  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 331, p. 498 (n. 21).
49  Ibid., even more explicitly, with reference to the French Republic, in Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über
Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft 1817–​18’, § 161, p. 251 (n. 13).
50  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 331, p. 499 (n. 21).
51  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 332, p. 499 (n. 21).
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Hegel 363

system of each individual polity. Lastly, Hegel dedicates, according to tradition, a

special attention to the laws of war. Here is his tone—​in particular for an author
supposed to be a supporter of war as an instrument for conflict solution—​surpris-
ingly mild. For instance, he claims—​analogously to much criticized Kant—​that
war should be conducted in a way that does not exclude the possibility of establish-
ing peace again. This condition includes the immunity of legates and the protection
of non-​military facilities as well as of life and property of civilians.52 As regards
the reasons for the mitigation of violence in war, Hegel refers to the ‘customs of
nations’53 as well as, in the lecture of 1824–​1825, to the ethical ‘family’ of European
nations.54 These concepts, however, are hardly substantiated in his system, in which
‘ethical life’ is reduced only to the institutions of the individual civil societies and
states. Rather, they can be understood as the opening of a new perspective which,
however, was never really investigated in Hegel’s work.

II.  Hegel against the Background of the Established

Paradigms of Social Order

On the basis of the contents of Hegel’s theory of international law and relations the
question arises whether it is justified to regard him as the turning point from the
cosmopolitan approach of the enlightenment era to the nation-​and state-​centred
understanding of international law that dominated the whole nineteenth century
and at least the first half of the twentieth century.55 To address this topos it is indis-
pensable to consider Hegel in the light of the main strands of political thought that
shaped the landscape of Western philosophy until his time, or—​with the language
of a ‘general theory of social order’—​56 in view of what we can call the established
‘paradigms of order’.

1. Historic paradigms of order

The first assumption of a ‘general theory of social order’ is that a human commu-
nity, in order to work properly, needs effective rules that make interaction predict-
able. In other words, it needs ‘order’. Adding then a value-​related component, a
‘well-​ordered society’ is the human community in which rules do not only aim at
making interactions foreseeable but also organize social life in a peaceful way, allow-
ing for the pursuing of the various interests of all agents involved and, in the most
ambitious understandings, even facilitating mutual cooperation.

52  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 338, p. 502 (n. 21).

53  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 339, p. 502 (n. 21).
54  Hegel, ‘Philosophie des Rechts 1824–​25’, § 339, p. 743 (n. 19).
55  Sometimes the reference to Hegel seems to become a kind of topos. See Christian Tomuschat,
‘Wer hat höhere Hoheitsgewalt?’, Humboldt Forum Recht (1997), pp. 72–​5, at p. 73.
56  For more details, see Sergio Dellavalle, I paradigmi storici, vol. 1, Dalla comunità particolare
all’ordine universale (2011).
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364 Sergio Dellavalle

However, even if every society requires rules to function, different rules—​and
therefore also distinct kinds of ‘order’—​are conceivable and, in fact, have been
elaborated and established during the centuries. I propose to call these different
patterns ‘paradigms of social order’. In general, a paradigm is a set of concepts that
serve as the most fundamental theoretical requisites for the use of the theoretical
and practical reason with reference to a specific field of knowledge and action and in
a certain period of human history. Once assumed this definition, to be a ‘paradigm
of social order’ a set of concepts has to shape the understanding of what are and
should be the conditions for a peaceful, mutually advantageous and, in the most
favourable situations, even cooperative social interaction within a specific histori-
cal context. In doing so, it has to address three main questions regarding the rules
that govern society: extension and limits of the rules that ground social order; the
ontological foundation of order; and its unitary or polyarchic structure, whereas
the polyarchic order may be organized, more precisely, in a multilevel setting or as a
plurality of largely self-​reliant regimes. Depending on the answers that a set of con-
cepts concerning social order gives to these questions, we have different patterns of
order, and thus also distinct ‘paradigms’. Being led back to their general paradigms,
the theories of order obtain a systematic dimension; in other words, order becomes
a system through the application of the paradigmatic approach, i.e. by organizing
the rules around a conceptual core.
Three ‘paradigms of social order’ had consolidated until the beginning of the
nineteenth century. All of them maintained that a system of rules, in order to guar-
antee a peaceful and cooperative society, cannot but be unitary in the sense that a
plurality of diverging norms, all applying to the same matter and at the same time,
has to be seen as a pathology and thus ruled out.57 Different, though—​and even
diverging—​were the contents of these paradigms as regards extension and ontologi-
cal foundation of order. Concerning this second point, both most ancient para-
digms claimed that order can only be based on a social totality—​a holon—​which
has to be considered superior to its members. To the contrary, the most recent para-
digm turned the hierarchy between individual and community upside down, thus
putting reason, rights, and interests of the former to the centre of society. As regards
the extension of order, on the other hand, the division line separates the most
ancient paradigm from both later patterns of order: whereas the former conception
is particularistic in the sense that order is conceived as possible only within limited
and homogeneous societies, both later paradigms accept, at least in principle, the
idea that the whole human community can be unified by only one universalistic
order. In the following I will briefly introduce each one of the paradigms of order

57  The idea that also a society based on legal pluralism or on a multilevel set of rules can be seen
as ‘well-​ordered’ appeared much later, dating back to just a few decades ago. For more details, see
Andreas Fischer-​Lescano and Gunther Teubner, ‘Fragmentierung des Weltrechts: Vernetzung globaler
Regimes statt etatistischer Rechtseinheit’, in Mathias Albert and Rudolf Stichweh (eds.), Weltstaat und
Weltstaatlichkeit. Beobachtungen globaler politischer Strukturbildung (2007), p. 37; Matthias Kumm,
‘On the Cosmopolitan Turn in Constitutionalism’, in Jeffrey L. Dunoff and Joel P. Trachtman (eds.),
Ruling the World? Constitutionalism, International Law, and Global Governance (2009), p. 258; Nico
Krisch, Beyond Constitutionalism (2010).
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Hegel 365

that had been established until the beginning of the nineteenth century, pointing
out their main features and exponents in order to design the background for a bet-
ter understanding of Hegel’s theory of international law and relations.

a) Holistic particularism
The most ancient of all Western paradigms of order maintains that order is only
possible within limited and rather homogeneous communities, whereas between
these social, political, and legal communities only containment of dis-​order would
be feasible. Furthermore, order must be grounded, here, on an ontological basis in
which the whole of the community is clearly assumed to have more value than the
single individual or even than the sum of all individuals that make up the com-
munity. Due to the first characteristic this pattern of order is particularistic, and
due to the second it is holistic; therefore, I call this first paradigm of order holistic
particularism.
As far as the first assumption of the paradigm is concerned—​namely the lim-
ited extension of order—​the most essential tenets were already laid down by the
historian Thucydides.58 They can be summarized in three points: first, when no
balance of power is given, power prevails over law; second, the law of the strongest
corresponds to natural or even divine order; third, no trust in the intervention of a
third independent party, a tertium super partes, is justified since every party which
is ready to intervene will do this on the basis of egoistic interests. These tenets have
constituted since then the core of every particularistic—​or, according to a second,
very common definition, of every realistic—​conception of international law and
relations far beyond Hegel’s times, lastly until ours.59
More complicated is the question as regards the justification of why a well-​
ordered, but limited society should be conceived as holistic. The first deep-​going
foundation of society as a holon was delivered by Plato. In his political philoso-
phy, he maintains that the polis has to be established on the principle of ‘justice’.
In his understanding, however, justice has nothing to do with the distribution of
resources, but is the condition in which everyone implements the activity for which
he has the most relevant natural predisposition.60 Thus, a society is ‘just’ if it is con-
ceived of as an organic body in which every part or member can do his own work,
and is ‘unjust’ if the division of labour is not sufficiently accomplished and there is a
somehow inefficient overlapping of activities as well as a general tendency to inter-
fere with occupations and decisions outside the sphere of one’s own competencies.

58 Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War (1982), V, n. 84, p. 349.

59  Quite resorting to epistemological instruments different from Thucydides’, these basic elements
against the idea of the possibility of a universalistic order can be found again in all neo-​realistic con-
ceptions of international law and relations: from Hans Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations (1954)
and Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (1979), until Jack Goldsmith und Eric Posner, The
Limits of International Law (2005).
60  Plato, ‘Politeia’, in Werke (1990), vol. 4, IV, 433b, pp. 322 ff.
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366 Sergio Dellavalle

Yet, Plato’s idea of social homogeneity proved to be far too demanding already
during his lifetime. In a period in which the cohesion of the Greek polis was fad-
ing away, the individuals could not see the self-​identification with the aims of their
politeia as the one and only purpose of their life any longer.61 The social cohe-
sion—​and, with this, also the law that had to express it—​needed to rest on a new
fundament, and the author who gave to this question a groundbreaking answer
that deeply influenced the political thought for almost two thousand years was
Aristotle. In fact, he not only proposed a new definition of ‘justice’ according to
which it is essentially related—​in a way that is much nearer to our sensibility—​to
the principles that guides the distribution of resources and advantages on the basis
of reasonable and justifiable criteria,62 but also located the highest goal of practical
life not in the service for the political community, as Plato did, but in what he called
the ‘theoretical life’.63 Nevertheless, he maintained—​like Plato—​the necessity of an
organic and holistic understanding of the politeia. Yet, why should the members of
the political community owe solidarity to each other if their most essential aim con-
sists in living a life characterized by the individual search for the theoretical truth
and by its comtemplation? On which fundament can the loyalty to the social group
be based? Aristotle’s answer is astonishingly plain and intuitively convincing at the
same time: because all members of the political community belong to an enlarged
family, so that they have to support the community as every good family member
is expected to do.64
The familistic justification for social order was a huge success in political thought.
However, in Modern Ages it degenerated progressively into a mere validation of the
absolutistic monarchic power. We see the beginning of this process in the work of
Jean Bodin,65 whereas the defence of the absolutistic monarchic power became
then the central issue in John Filmer’s Patriarcha.66 Yet, the subordination of the
familistic understanding of the holistic order of society to the justification of abso-
lutism marked also its definitive decline. Indeed, as the crowned heads began to
tremble in Europe and America and were substituted by republics by the two great
revolutions of the late eighteenth century, the sustainers of the particularistic–​holis-
tic interpretation of society were once again in search for a new ontological basis
for social order. This was—​precisely in the period in which Hegel developed his
philosophy—​the most central issue for all those who still maintained that order can
only be achieved within homogeneous communities and not worldwide. Political
romanticism—​led by Adam Müller as its most significant figure—​located the
basis for a renewed holism in the idea of the nation, understood not primarily

61  Hegel himself pointed out that Plato’s philosophy excluded, in its very essence, the idea of indi-
viduality. See Hegel, Jenaer Systementwürfe III, p. 240 (n. 10).
62  Aristotle, ‘Nikomachische Ethik’, in Philosophische Schriften (1995), vol. 3, V, 9, 1134a, p. 114.
63  Aristotle, ‘Nikomachische Ethik’, X, 7, 1177a, p. 248 (n. 62).
64  Aristotle, ‘Politik’, in Philosophische Schriften (1995), vol. 4, I, 2, 1252b, p. 4.
65  Jean Bodin, Six livres de la république (1579).
66  John Filmer, Patriarcha, Or the Natural Power of Kings (1680).
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Hegel 367

as the community of citizens, but rather as the quasi-​natural and in any case pre-​
political and pre-​legal Gemeinschaft of the members of the Volk.67

b) Holistic universalism
The first paradigmatic revolution in the theories of order brought the transition from
the idea that order is only possible within the particular and homogeneous commu-
nities and not between them, to the conviction that order is, in principle, extendable
to the whole humanity. Yet order, although understood on a cosmopolitan range,
was conceived as no less organic and holistic than in the older paradigm: indeed,
the community remains also in this paradigm not only genetically but also onto-
logically and axiologically superior to the individuals as its members; simply, the
community is here so widened as to comprehend the whole humankind. The new
paradigm of holistic universalism was introduced by the Stoic philosophers.68 The
fundamental assumption made by them was that not only the natural but also the
social and political world is run by just one universal Logos. From this, a universal
Nomos is derived which applies to the whole human community and is regarded as
the ultimate basis of any legal system of the single political communities.
It was with its further development by the Christian political theology, however,
that the holistic–​universalistic conception of order became influent. The Christian
theology of the Middle Ages as well as its Catholic prosecution situated the last
source of the universality of order not only in God’s revelation but also in the
capacity of natural reason to attain the most essential elements of the divine law.
Concretely, this assumption took different forms. Initially, it was the plea in favour
of a universal monarchy, where the worldwide validity of mundane power is justi-
fied as the worldly expression of God’s universal authority.69 Later, as this project
was abandoned not only by the rulers but also by the thinkers, the idea was devel-
oped, in particular by Francisco Suárez, of a highly differentiated and innovative
system of laws in which the unity of the lex divina is articulated, within a multilevel
setting including natural law and the jus gentium, as an all-​encompassing dome
thought to include and justify all legal systems of the single polities beneath it. In
this conception, the relations between independent states should be regulated, in
order to improve peace and preserve mutual recognition, on the basis of generally
accepted principles derived from God’s commands.70 In any case, one element was
present throughout the whole history of the Christian and then Catholic theology
between the Middle Ages and the early Modern Ages: it was on the universal scope
of God’s law and on the osmosis between this and natural reason that the project of
a worldwide order was grounded.

67  Adam Müller, Die Elemente der Staatskunst (1922), I, IV, pp. 76 ff.
68  Johannes von Arnim, Stoicorum veterum fragmenta, vols. I and III (1903–​1905).
69  The most articulated philosophical justification of the idea of a Christian universal monarchy can
be found in Dante Alighieri, ‘De Monarchia (1310–​1314)’, in Opere minori, vol. II (1986).
70  Francisco Suárez, ‘De legibus, ac Deo legislatore (1612)’, in Selections from three Works (1944),
in particular books I–​III.
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368 Sergio Dellavalle

From the perspective of the Calvinist theology, on the contrary, the way of
the direct derivation of the validity of social order from God’s will had been
shut down since the possibility of grasping the divine truth by means of reason
had been made impossible—​according to the Protestant doctrine—​by human
original sin. Therefore, the legal philosophers influenced by Protestantism had
to seek elsewhere the source of the reasons why order should be conceived as
universal. They found it by going back to the old Stoic concept of οικέιωσις,
namely to the idea that all human beings are bound to each other by a natural
tendency to ‘sociability’. In particular, the alleged social ‘essence’ of humans was
regarded as the basis for the universal norms of international law. The founda-
tion of international order on the assumption of a universal human ‘sociability’
was first introduced by Alberico Gentili,71 further developed by Hugo Grotius,72
and then taken up by Samuel Pufendorf73 and Christian Wolff.74 Thus, while
in the Catholic political theology the guarantee for the universality of order was
located in the recognition of God’s will, in its Protestant counterpart—​due to the
impossibility of recognizing the divine law by means of natural reason—​the same
function had to be accomplished by a laical assumption regarding the ontological
nature of human beings.

c) Universalistic individualism
The second paradigmatic revolution in the theories of order overturned the former
hierarchy between community and individuals: while within the older paradigms
the whole of the community was thought to be in any sense superior to the sum
of its members, now the centre of social order was put in the rights, interests and
rational capacity of the individuals, whereas authority was only justified if it aimed
at the protection of individual rights and interests. The revolution from holism to
individualism was initiated by Thomas Hobbes75 and then carried forward by the
major exponents of modern contractualism, explicitly Locke,76 Rousseau,77 and, in
particular, Kant.78
The question arises, here, on how far the individualistic order of society can
reach, i.e. whether it is assumed to stop at the borders of the single polity, or
is thought to include, in principle, the whole humanity. On this point, it has

71  Alberico Gentili, De jure belli libri tres [1612] (1933), Liber I, Cap. XV, p. 107.
72  Hugo Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pacis [1646] (1995), Prolegomena, no. 6, 16, and 17.
73  Samuel Pufendorf, De jure naturae et gentium libri octo [1672] (1995), book II, chs. II, III, VII,
and XV; book VIII, ch. VI.
74  Christian Wolff, Institutiones juris naturae et gentium (1750), book IX, chs. I, V, and VI.
75  Thomas Hobbes, De Cive [1642] (1651); Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, or the Matter, Form, and
Power of a Commonwealth Ecclesiastical and Civil (1651).
76  John Locke, Two Treatises of Government [1690] (1698).
77  Jean-​Jacques Rousseau, Du contrat social, ou principes du droit politique [1762] (1966).
78  Immanuel Kant, ‘Kritik der praktischen Vernunft. Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten’,
in Werkausgabe, ed. Wilhelm Weischedel (1977), vol. VII, p.  65; Immanuel Kant, ‘Zum ewigen
Frieden:  Ein philosophischer Entwurf ’, in Werkausgabe, vol. XI, p.  204; Immanuel Kant, ‘Die
Metaphysik der Sitten’, in Werkausgabe, vol. VIII, p. 429.
 369

Hegel 369

to be kept in mind that, at least at the beginning, the contract theory of state—​
namely the state theory in which the individualistic epistemology took form in
political philosophy—​was conceived as an instrument for the new foundation
of political power and for its legitimation under the conditions of the modern
centrality of individuals. In other words, interest in international order was ini-
tially marginal and, insofar as international law and relations were addressed,
scepticism was the prevailing attitude.79 Regardless of the early indifference of
its exponents towards global order, the individualistic paradigm was cosmopoli-
tan in its essence. Indeed, according to the individualistic paradigm, human
beings are regarded as endowed with socially non-​situated rights, interests and
reason, so that they are considered in principle equal. Moreover, these socially
non-​situated individuals are seen as the barycentre of the political and legal com-
munity. As a result, there is no reason why this community should be shaped
along the lines of ethnic, cultural, linguistic, historic or religious identities. In
other words, due to its conceptual premises the individualistic paradigm cannot
but be universalistic. It was only with Kant, however, that the paradigm came
to develop its full potentialities. In particular, Kant introduced a tripartition of
public law which contains for the first time, beside the traditional dimensions
of ‘constitutional law’ (Staatsrecht) and ‘international law’ (Völkerrecht), also
a third sphere—​the ‘cosmopolitan law’ (weltbürgerliches Recht)—​in which the
rights holders are the individuals not as citizens of a specific polity, but simply
as human beings involved in a worldwide interaction.80 Furthermore, universal
peace was regarded by Kant not only as a political necessity but also as a moral
duty. Nevertheless, when it came to the formulation of a concrete proposal, Kant
swung undecided between the ‘world republic’ (Weltrepublik) and the ‘confed-
eration of peoples’ (Völkerbund).81 The lack of an implementable option did not
come by chance: having developed the idea of cosmopolitan order at the price
of a radical decontextualization of the individuals, Kant’s groundbreaking intui-
tion was lastly doomed to remain abstract.

2. Hegel’s position within the traditional paradigms

of international order
Against the background of the short description of the different paradigms of order,
the question can be addressed to which of them Hegel’s philosophy is considered
to belong and, therefore, also which role it may have played in the history of the
theories of international law and relations.

79 Hobbes, Leviathan, ch. XXX (n. 75); Baruch Spinoza, ‘Tractatus theologico-​politicus’, in Opera,
ed. Carl Gebhardt (1924), vol. 3, ch. XVI; Baruch Spinoza, ‘Tractatus politicus’, in Opera, vol. 3, ch.
III (n. 79); Locke, Two Treatises, book II, ch. 2, para. 14 and ch. 16, para. 183 (n. 76).
80  Kant, ‘Zum ewigen Frieden’, p. 203 (n. 78).
81  Kant, ‘Zum ewigen Frieden’, p. 212 (n. 78); Kant, ‘Metaphysik der Sitten’, § 54, p. 467 and §
61, p. 474 (n. 78).
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370 Sergio Dellavalle

a) Hegel’s criticism against universalism and cosmopolitanism

Undoubtedly, Hegel rejected both paradigms that endorsed the idea of a cosmo-
politan order. As regards the Catholic version of the holistic universalism, it cannot
be surprising that Hegel—​a rather fervent supporter of the political Protestantism,
at least in his mature years—​regarded with disbelief, if not even with suspicion,
the idea of a communitas Christiana under the aegis of the Holy See. In general, he
considered this conception as definitively belonging to the past since the transition
from the Middle to the Modern Ages and as a consequence of the Reformation.82
Yet, even the theory of the existence of a communitas humana characterized by
the same interests and values, which had been developed by authors deeply influ-
enced by the Protestant theology, was not favourably considered by Hegel either.
To detect his position on this point we have only some clues at disposal, but they
all indicate, coherently, the same attitude. In his criticism against the project of
a worldwide federation,83 as well as in his rejection of the idea of a peaceful and
sociable state of nature,84 in his almost absolute silence on the theory of a universal
communitas humana, or, when the silence is broken, in his disregard for Grotius as
its most influent advocate—​85 in all these cases Hegel shows no affinity towards the
non-​religious version of holistic universalism and rather sympathy for the opposite,
non-​universalistic approach.
Explicit was, on the contrary, Hegel’s negative judgment about the strand
of universalism that was originated from the individualistic epistemology and
social theory, in particular as regards Kant’s project for a Perpetual Peace. Since
‘there is no Praetor to judge between states; at best there may be an arbitrator or
a mediator, and even he exercises his functions contingently only,’ the perpetual
and universal peace treaty proposed by Kant would need the consent of each
individual state. This, however, ‘in any case would always depend ultimately
on a particular sovereign will and for that reason would remain infected with
contingency’.86

82  See Hegel’s analysis of the transition from the Middle Ages to the Modern Age in his lecture on
the philosophy of world history: Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Vorlesungen über die Philosophie der
Weltgeschichte. Berlin 1822–​23. Nachschriften von Karl Gustav Julius von Griesheim, Heinrich Gustav
Hotho und Friedrich Carl Hermann Victor von Kehler, ed. Karl Heinz Ilting et al. (1996), p. 462; trans.
G.W.F. Hegel, Lectures on the Phiosophy of World History: Volume I. Manuscripts of the Introduction and
the Lecture of 1822–​1823, eds. Robert F. Brown and Peter C. Hodgson (2011). On Hegel’s political
protestantism see Sergio Dellavalle, Freiheit und Intersubjektivität (1998), p. 193.
83  Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft 1817–​18’, § 162, p. 253 (n. 13).
84  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 194, p. 350 (n. 21); Hegel, ‘Philosophie des Rechts 1822–​23’, p. 33
(n. 18).
85  Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über die Geschichte der Philosophie’, ed. Carl
Ludwig Michelet (1833/​36), in Werke in zwanzig Bänden, vol. 20, p. 224; trans. G.W.F. Hegel, Lectures
on the History of Philosophy, vol. 3, trans. E.S. Haldane and Frances H. Simson (1995). Hegel’s disregard
for Grotius is bluntly contrasted by his appraisal of Hobbes’ pessimistic understanding of the state of
nature as bellum omnium contra omnes. See Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über die Geschichte der Philosophie’,
p. 225 (n. 85).
86  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 333, p. 500 (n. 21).
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Hegel 371

b) Hegel’s case for particularism—​and beyond it

While Hegel’s refusal of both strands of the universalistic idea of order is hardly
questionable, his attitude towards the particularistic-​holistic paradigm is—​at least
at first glance—​more debatable. In particular, his open polemics against universal-
ism could suggest his nearness to the opposite approach, namely to holistic particu-
larism. Indeed, we find in his texts both constitutive elements of the first Western
paradigm of social order. First, Hegel endorses the organic understanding of the
political community;87 and, second, he interprets international relations as an arena
characterized by pandemic conflicts. Thus, both holism and particularism seem to
be present at the core of his thought. Nevertheless, even more significant arguments
speak against the conclusion that Hegel should be regarded as a backward-​oriented
philosopher who simply wanted to take up the more traditional forms of holistic
particularism, or even as a reformer who aimed at renewing the old paradigm in
front of the challenges of the beginning nineteenth century.
As regards the possibility that Hegel just wanted to re-​propose old-​fashioned ver-
sions of holistic particularism, this hypothesis can be easily rejected if we consider
the role that the most relevant exponents of the older forms of this paradigm play
in his philosophy. For instance, he refers many times in his works to Thucydides
as one of the most important historians of all times and as an outstanding figure
of the ancient culture, but never as the thinker who laid down the fundaments for
the so-​called ‘realistic’ understanding of international relations. In Hegel’s thought,
indeed, the struggle between states is always overcome by an idealistic teleology
of history in which it finds its more profound meaning. Moreover, neither Plato’s
‘justice’ nor Aristotle’s ‘happiness’ are regarded as suitable basis for the order of the
political community: reason is for Hegel the only fundament of the polity, whereas
an even higher realization of rationality is located beyond the state. Lastly, also
Hegel’s sovereignty concept is quite different from Bodin’s: first, it has no familistic
background, and, secondly, it is not assumed to serve primarily dynastic interests or
absolutistic political projects.
Yet, if Hegel is not just a backward-​oriented thinker, could he be seen as one of
those intellectuals who reinvented the paradigm, giving to it a new guise after a
two hundred years lasting crisis due to the rising of universalistic rationalism and
enlightenment? Three elements are crucial to the re-​invention of the paradigm in
the light of political romanticism: nationalism, contextualism, and the justification
of war.

aa.  Beyond nationalism: Hegel’s conception of the Volk

The re-​foundation of holistic particularism at the beginning of the nineteenth cen-
tury was essentially connected with the idea that the nation—​as a group of indi-
viduals united by pre-​political and pre-​legal features like language, history, culture,
sometimes religion, and almost always natural kinship, or ‘blood’—​had to be seen

87  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 269, p. 414 (n. 21).

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372 Sergio Dellavalle

as the fundament of the state. However, evidences that Hegel made this view to his
own are less than rare.88 In fact, we can find only one reference, in the postscript of
a lecture, to the nation as the anthropological fundament of the individuality of the
state.89 This assertion remains, yet, completely isolated in Hegel’s work. Moreover,
if the role assigned to the nation maybe in one marginal case incidentally positive,
it is, in all other passages in which Hegel refers to it, downright negative—​which
is at least curious for a philosopher who should have been, at least in the view of
some influential interpreters, as one of founding fathers of the emerging vision of
the nation-​state of the nineteenth century. In general and according to the more
fundamental tenets of his philosophy, the ‘nation’ is ​a social group which is still
‘natural’, i.e. so close to the original, not to say primitive, forms of interaction that it
could not reach the higher stage of a constitutionally organized ‘people’ (Volk).90 In
Hegel’s philosophy, the basis of the ‘people’ organized in a state is not the ‘nation’ as
the pre-​political expression of the most elementary and thus ‘natural’ social interac-
tion, but the ‘ethical life’ (Sittlichkeit). This concept expresses the historically situ-
ated and culturally constructed form of an eminently political interaction, which
has overcome by far the level of the immediate nearness to nature, or—​as we could
say more precisely—​of an unreflected belongingness. In other words, Hegel’s ‘peo-
ple’ is not a synonym for ‘nation’, and it is not something essentially linked to some
assumed natural roots. Insofar as it is a concretization of the ‘spirit’ and of reason,
the ‘people’ is a highly legally and socially structured idea, in which the natural ele-
ments—​albeit undoubtedly present—​are just a remainder of the limits in which
the mundane ‘spirit’, though always longing for higher dimensions of self-​realiza-
tion, is trapped.

bb. Beyond contextualism: World history and the absolute spirit

A second element which characterizes the rebirth of holistic particularism at the begin-
ning of the nineteenth century consists in the contextualization of reason. According
to the exponents of romanticism, human interaction cannot be founded in univer-
sal reason. Rather, we have many rationalities, rooted in the distinct traditions of the
different Völker, from which separate and lastly incommensurable communications
within the social and political communities develop. Yet, if no universal reason exists,
no system of international order endowed with consistent normativity will be possible,
so that untamed existential conflicts actually dominate the scene, with just few inter-
ruptions through feeble compromises.91

88  Armin von Bogdandy, ‘Hegel und der Nationalstaat’, Der Staat 30, (1991), p. 513.
89  Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft 1817/​18’, § 159, p. 246 (n. 13).
90  Hegel, ‘Enzyklopädie der philosophischen Wissenschaften im Grundrisse (1830). Dritter Teil’,
§ 549, p. 350 (n. 15).
91  The idea that a kind of global order may exist even without the assumption of a universalis-
tic rationality is quite new and fully unconceivable on the basis of the epistemology that dominated
Western thought until the rise of postmodernism. On the conditions of a pluralistic order, see Krisch,
Beyond Constitutionalism (n. 57).
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Hegel 373

The idea of international relations as a field dominated by conflicts is surely part

of Hegel’s conception. But it is not its reason’s last word.92 First, the individual state
is nothing but the manifestation of the universal reason in the mundane domain.
Secondly, in Hegel’s work a dimension arises from the field of international con-
flicts, and is lastly situated above it, which is far away from the horizon of particu-
larism: it is world history which is, indeed, essentially made of inter-​state conflicts,
but, on the other hand, also overcomes the one-​sidedness of states, making the
implementation of universal reason possible.93 Thus, the universality of human
interaction does not take the form, here, of a global community endowed with
ontological sociability as well as with shared values and interests, nor is it expressed
through a worldwide social contract. Nevertheless, universality is by far not deleted
from the horizon: insofar as history is interpreted as a kind of a ‘world’s court of
judgment’ and the absolute spirit overrides all dimensions of the political world,
universal reason is still present and effective, although in a sphere which is distant—​
as far as world history is concerned—​from the self-​reflective behaviour of concrete
individualities and, as regards the absolute spirit, even from the social processes in
which individuals and groups are involved.

cc. Beyond the existential struggle for survival: Hegel on war

Hegel’s understanding of war has been matter of much debate and of some unease
among the interpreters who tried not to relegate him to the ranks of the belli-
cists.94 The disappointment, indeed, seems to be well-​grounded if we consider, for
instance, the following passage:
What is ethical must itself intuit its vitality in its difference, and it must do so here in such a
way that the essence of the life standing over against it is posited as alien and to be negatived.
[…] A difference of this sort is the enemy […]. For ethical life this enemy can only be an
enemy of the people and itself only a people.95
Here, Carl Schmitt’s most aggressive statements seem to be anticipated by more
than a century. Yet, it would be a mistake to overestimate this assertion: on the
whole, Hegel’s position is far from making him an advocate of that understanding
of war that was—​and still is—​so beloved among the exponents of the particularistic
paradigm of international order (or rather dis-​order), namely of an idea that war
is the existential struggle for survival between somehow homogeneous communi-
ties. If it has to be admitted that war is not condemned by Hegel—​which may be
disturbing enough for us—​it has also to be recognized that, in his texts, it is never
just at the service of particularistic and egoistic interests. For the victims it does not
make a great difference indeed; for the historical, philosophical, and ethical consid-
erations, however, it does.

92  Charles Covell, The Law of Nations in Political Thought (2009), p. 189.
93  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 340, p. 503 (n. 21).
94  Shlomo Avineri, Hegel’s Theory of the Modern State (1972), p. 194.
95  Hegel, ‘System der Sittlichkeit’, p. 466 (n. 9).
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374 Sergio Dellavalle

Four main reasons speak for this interpretation. The first and most important
is that in Hegel’s mature works war is justified always and alone as an instrument
for the realization of the universal ‘spirit’. In this sense, war may have the task
of strengthening internal cohesion, but—​which is lastly much more significant—​
builds also the gate that leads from the selfishness of the individual states to uni-
versal reason.
Secondly, war is not seen as a ruthless struggle for self-​affirmation or survival by a
people or a nation, but as the event that prevents society from becoming too much
accustomed with selfishness and routine.96 As a result, war has the task to shake
up political communities in which a well-​established tendency to enjoy a comfort-
able life may have led to the sheer impossibility to deal with new challenges.97 The
assumption of an inescapable connection between war and social change may be—​
with some good reasons—​quite disturbing to us, but it was a kind of topos at Hegel’s
times. In this sense, war—​far from being just an instrument for the self-​assertion
of a particularistic community—​becomes an always painful, but sometimes neces-
sary instrument for a new step forwards in the universalistic progress of humanity
towards freedom.
Thirdly, in one of his lectures on the Philosophy of Right Hegel makes a claim
that a true supporter of the particularistic understanding of order would never
endorse, namely that through international law states recognize each other ‘as such
[political communities], with which it is possible to live in peace’.98 In doing so,
he assumes that peace is not just—​negatively—​a condition in which hostilities are
temporarily suspended, but rather a positive state of mutual recognition, which is
worth aspiring to. Thus, peace describes in Hegel’s conception not an absence—​i.e.
the lack of war—​but a presence, namely respect for each other.
Fourthly, the fact that war, for Hegel, cannot be the consequence of unilateral
decisionism by the executive power is proved by the role that he attributed to the
Estates (Stände) within the procedure of the declaration of war.99

III.  Towards a New Paradigm of Order?

On the basis of the analysis carried out in the former section we can maintain that
Hegel was not a supporter of universalism, regardless of what strand of it. However,

96  Hegel, ‘Grundlinien’, § 324, p. 493 (n. 21). Here, Hegel repeats the same sentence already used
almost twenty years earlier. See Hegel, ‘Über die wissenschaftlichen Behandlungsarten des Naturrechts’,
p. 482 (n. 8).
97  Hegel’s rejection of social stagnation is proved by his rather reserved judgment as regards the Holy
Alliance—​which is even more surprising if considered in relation to the political condition of his time.
See Hegel, ‘Philosophie des Rechts 1822–​23’, p. 835 (n. 18).
98  Hegel, ‘Vorlesungen über Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft 1817–​18’, § 161, p. 250 (n. 13).
99  Hegel, ‘Philosophie des Rechts 1824–​25’, § 329, p. 738 (n. 19). As a result of the role played by
the Estates, in England no ‘unpopular war can be waged.’ However, people’s involvement can also have,
according to Hegel, negative consequences since it may lead to an uncontrolled and disadvantageous
war enthusiasm.
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Hegel 375

he seems not to defend particularism either, be it in its rather traditional form

or in the new nationalist shape. Should this mean that Hegel is laying down the
fundament for a new paradigm of order, anticipating a development which would
completely unfold much later? By doing so, he would not only conceive order as
a ‘system’—​which emerges clearly from the investigation of the deep connection
between his interpretation of international law and relations and the broader con-
text of his philosophy—​but this ‘system’ would also be something new within the
horizon of the patterns of social order. Indeed, two elements of a new paradigm
are at least outlined in Hegel’s philosophy: the polyarchic setting of order, and its
dialectic (or even communicative) understanding.

1. The polyarchic setting

For the first time in Western philosophy Hegel realizes a system in which the defence
of the individuality and sovereignty of states coexists with a robust idea of universal
order. Before him, either the political life was centred on the state and the order
of reason beyond the state was denied any serious consideration—​like in authors
going from Thucydides to Adam Müller, passing through Machiavelli and Bodin—​
or, vice versa, the civitas maxima was seen as the only realization of reason in human
society, whereas the state was condemned to have just a second-​hand legitima-
tion—​like in the Scholastic thought, in Kant and, more than one hundred years
after Hegel, also in Kelsen. Even Suárez, who defends—​to a certain extent—​the
individuality of the state, inserts this into a structure that remains, albeit multilevel,
strictly hierarchical. And those thinkers—​like Grotius and Pufendorf—​who limit
the basis for global order to general assumptions on natural reason, are confronted,
in the end, with the weakness of this fundament.
On the contrary, in Hegel the identity of the state is undeniable and consti-
tutes the basis for the political involvement of the individuals who, this way, are
not deprived of their tangible field of political commitment in favour of a distant
global community. Otherwise, the idea of global order is extremely robust since
it expresses the progress to a higher level of the realization of reason. With his
conception, Hegel overcomes both traditional dichotomies of the paradigms of
order:  indeed, it is at the same time particularistic (since it defends state sover-
eignty) and universalistic (because it assumes the existence of world order), as well
as individualistic (since it underlines the role of individuals) and holistic (because it
inserts them into an ethical community with shared values). Moreover, Hegel goes
also beyond the usual unitary understanding of order: his system, indeed, enters the
field of the post-​unitary paradigms insofar as the individual state and global order
are linked to each other not primarily through hierarchy—​on the whole, global
order is superior to the states, but each single state is the master in the field of the
mundane realization of reason—​but through a dialectic and thus implicitly com-
municative relation.
The most significant problem, in Hegel’s conception, is that, while within the
horizon of the single state individuals are aware of the identity of their community
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376 Sergio Dellavalle

as well as of the rationality of its institutions and contribute to its functioning
through their actions, the field of global order is almost completely detached from
them. As regards global order, what individuals can reach—​rather just some of
them—​is an abstract consciousness about contents and necessity of universal
rationality. Yet, they can never contribute consciously to its development since uni-
versal rationality—​as a result of the ‘cunning of reason’—​100 is an object for ex post
philosophical speculations, not for ex ante political projects.

2. On the way to a communicative understanding of social order

In Hegel’s thought order is not the result of formal hierarchies or abstract agree-
ments, but of dialectic processes.101 In this sense, he anticipates some aspects of the
communicative paradigm of order, which was then systematically developed more
than one hundred years later.102 The key to this role as precursor is to find in the
concept of ‘spirit’ as it is developed in the context of the ‘ethical life’: the idea of a
community of interaction and communication is contoured, here, in a way which
is unprecedented in the history of Western philosophy. Concretely, the spirit rep-
resents the different forms of interaction and communication that individuals and
social groups have with each other, and from which social order arises. Thus, order
is neither something given by nature or God, nor the result of abstract epistemic
categories; rather, it is the consequence of social interactions, including conflicts
that are brought to a solution by the mediation of reason.
Yet, the potentialities of this groundbreaking innovation are limited by two fac-
tors, the first of diachronic, the second of synchronic nature. The first limit consists
in the subjectivistic turn that Hegel’s concept of ‘spirit’ progressively took in the
course of the development of his philosophy.103 While in the early works the ‘spirit’
is almost exclusively made by the unfolding of social conflicts, in the later texts
these are superseded by an all-​encompassing subjectivity which seems to presup-
pose the final result of order even before intersubjective interactions and conflicts
begin. Such a presupposition constrains in a significant way the necessarily open-​
ended results of genuinely communicative processes.
Secondly, it is surprising that the component of the ‘spirit’ that is characterized
by the development and solution of social conflicts—​which entails the whole defini-
tion of ‘spirit’ in the early works and at least a part of it in the later texts—​was never
applied to the realm of international law and relations. The subjectivistic rule—​
expressed by a rationality that is detached from the awareness of the involved indi-
vidualities—​remains unchallenged here. This is partially due to the fact that Hegel’s

100 See supra n. 30.
101  Axel Honneth, Kampf um Anerkennung (1992), p. 11; Dellavalle, Freiheit und Intersubjektivität,
p. 91 (n. 82).
102  The communicative paradigm of order is based mainly on the works of Jürgen Habermas. For
a general presentation of the topic, see Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle, ‘Universalism
Renewed. Habermas’ Theory of International Order in Light of Competing Paradigms’, German Law
Journal 10 (2009), 1, 5.
103  See Dellavalle, Freiheit und Intersubjektivität, p. 127 (n. 82).
 37

Hegel 377

interests in international law and relations arose at the same time as his subjectivistic
turn took place. But it seems also that Hegel wanted to keep the dimension of inter-
national law and relations completely free from conscious processes of social and
political interaction, whereas these always play a certain role—​albeit increasingly
subordinate—​in the sphere of the individual state. In other words, it is not clearly
understandable why, while the institutions of the single state are backed by the indi-
vidual awareness of their rationality, international law and relations not only have
weaker institutions but also their rationale, i.e. the realization of universal rationality,
should never be accompanied by individual cognition carried out by the concrete
subjects involved.104
We can find attempts to partially extend Hegel’s infra-​state concept of ‘spirit’
also to the inter-​state dimension already a few years after his death.105 However, to
fully develop a communicative understanding of international order from Hegel’s
quite sketchy anticipation two changes had to be introduced. First, the intersub-
jective dimension of social interaction had to be emancipated from the oppressive
burden of the all-​encompassing subjectivity with its predetermined ontological
truth. Second, also the realm beyond the state had to be interpreted as a field of
reflexive social interactions and political projects. More than one and a half centu-
ries after its formulation, Hegel’s intuition found application, at last, under com-
pletely different epistemological premises. However, just recently his contribution
to a polyarchic conception of order has found some recognition.106 And as regards
the anticipation of the communicative paradigm of order, Hegel’s role is yet to be
properly understood and appreciated.107

Selected Bibliography
Avineri, Shlomo, Hegel’s Theory of the Modern State (London/​New  York:  Cambridge
University Press, 1972).
Boucher, David, Political Theories of International Relations (Oxford/​New  York:  Oxford
University Press, 1998).
Buchwalter, Andrew (ed.), Hegel and Global Justice (Dordrecht/​Heidelberg: Springer, 2012).
Conklin, William E., Hegel’s Laws (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2008).

104  Individual subjects can have indeed cognition of the rationality of world history; yet, exclusively
at a philosophical level and not as long as they are involved, but only afterwards.
105 See Johannes Fallati, ‘Die Genesis der Völkergesellschaft’, Zeitschrift für die gesammte
Staatswissenschaft 1 (1844), p. 558; Adolf Trendelenburg, Naturrecht auf dem Grunde der Ethik (1868),
p. 564; Heinhard Steiger, ‘Völkerrecht und Naturrecht zwischen Christian Wolff und Adolf Lasson’, in
Naturrecht im 19. Jahrhundert. Kontinuität –​Inhalt –​Funktion –​Wirkung (1997), pp. 45–​74, at p. 66.
106  Lydia L. Moland, Hegel on Political Identity (2011); Andrew Buchwalter (ed.), Hegel and Global
Justice (2012); Hans-​Martin Jaeger, ‘Hegel’s Reluctant Realism and the Transnationalisation of Civil
Society’, Review of International Studies 28 (2002), 497.
107  The first exponents of the communicative paradigm of order—​namely Habermas and Apel—​
rather marginalize or even deny Hegel’s influence. To the contrary, authors who further developed the
paradigm, in particular Honneth, recognize his contribution, but limit it to the inner-​state political
dimension.
378

378 Sergio Dellavalle

Heller, Hermann, Hegel und der nationale Machtstaatsgedanken in Deutschland (Leipzig/​
Berlin: Teubner, 1921).
Meinecke, Friedrich, Weltbürgertum und Nationalstaat (München/​Berlin: Oldenbourg,
1922).
Moland, Lydia L., Hegel on Political Identity (Evanston Ill.:  Northwestern University
Press, 2011).
 379

PA RT  I I
PERSPECTIVES
O N  T H E P H I L O S O P H Y
O F  I N T E R N AT I O N A L  L AW
380
 381

18
What Should International Legal History
Become?
Martti Koskenniemi

A student asked me the other day: ‘does the historicization of something mean that
this something is dead?’. The occasion for the question was produced by the launch
of a new volume edited by Miia Halme and Pamela Slotte, Revisiting the Origins of
Human Rights (Cambridge, 2015). The essays in that book arose from the increased
interest since Samuel Moyn’s 2010 Last Utopia, in trying to understand the origins
and intellectual history of the human rights phenomenon.1 Does this mean that
human rights are now dead? The suspicion is not hard to understand. Why tell sto-
ries about something instead of engaging in that something? Why look backwards
instead of forwards? Histories of, say, revolutions are told only as the bland normal-
ity has set in, when former revolutionaries sit down to revisit past struggles, to talk
about comrades absent and present, and to reflect on the loss of the revolutionary
spirit. If the pull now is to looking backwards, does this mean that the project is
over, that nothing is visible ahead, or perhaps that one finds oneself in an unfamiliar
place and wants to know: ‘how did I get here in the first place?’. When does the
need to understand or remember overweigh the need to keep going?
I do not think that the need to think historically about something necessarily
signals the death of that something. When the need to think about the historical
context of the life of Jesus arose at the beginning of the nineteenth century, it raised
a profound concern among the believers. Does not the very search for a historical
understanding mean that one has lost faith? More worryingly, might not portray-
ing Jesus as a historical figure destroy even the possibility of spontaneous faith? As
it turned out, Christianity did not ‘die’ with the sensational publication of David
Strauss’ Das Leben Jesu in 1835.2 Of course, many pious Christians were shocked.
Strauss was accused as a ‘modern Judas’. But the shock wore away, and historical
studies of the Bible became gradually a respected part of the theological curriculum
everywhere.

1  Samuel Moyn, The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History (2010).

2  David Friedrich Strauss, Das Leben Jesu, kritisch bearbeitet (2 vols., 1839).

What Should International Legal History Become? Martti Koskenniemi. © Martti Koskenniemi, 2017.
Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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382 Martti Koskenniemi

But the wish to historicize a set of ideas—​human rights, Christianity, international
law—​is likely to signal some concern, some malaise about the pursuit of those ideas.
For instance: how come there has been so little progress recently? The concern would
not be about external obstacles; those might lead to a closing of the ranks and an
even more determined pursuit of the project. The worry is likely to be internal to the
set of ideas themselves. Does the lack of progress result from disagreements between
adherents? Might there be something wrong in those ideas? What are they supposed
to be, after all? Historicization may signal that all is not right, or at least as it used to
be, among the believers. Taking a break is needed. This would be history as therapy.
I suggest the turn to history has to do in part with a sense of international law’s
present ineffectuality, if not irrelevance, in view of present ‘crises’, in part from
doubts about the international legal ‘project’ itself. What is that ‘project’? If ‘frag-
mentation’ signals the collapse of a firm centre in the law, how to choose from the
many specializations, the many projects that compete under its name? Is interna-
tional law a cure to the world’s ills—​or perhaps (at least in some of its forms) a part
of those ills itself? It seems to me that the malaise has to do with the difficulty of
understanding the complex relationship between international law and interna-
tional power. How to have a better grasp on power? Might history illuminate the
ways in which law has been used in the past to structure, support, channel, and
oppose international power? ‘Power’ is of course a complex, many-​layered notion.
So is the concept of the ‘international’. I would like to propose that in case inter-
national lawyers do feel the urge to have a better grasp of power, then they must
develop a more complex and many layered concept of international law itself.
In this chapter I argue that the scope of history of international law ought to be
expanded beyond its received sense. If the interest lies in ‘power’, then it is not a
surprise that international lawyers might worry about the state of their field. For
history to grasp this worry, it should illuminate the process through which some
things come to be understood as belonging to ‘international law’ while others are
relegated to ‘domestic’ or ‘private’ law, to ‘political economy’, or indeed to ‘interna-
tional politics’. A study of international law’s relations to international power would
need to include an examination of the way such categories, professional fields, and
intellectual distinctions are made and remade so as to determine what may seem
possible to achieve and what is beyond professional argument and contestation.

Much recent writing about international law’s past has been inspired by a postco-
lonial interest.3 The relationship of law to European empire and expansion—​not
necessarily identical phenomena—​has been subjected to increasing scrutiny. What
role did international law and international lawyers play in the creation of formal

3  The trigger for that work has been Antony Anghie’s Sovereignty, Imperialism and the Making of
International Law (2003).
 38

What Should International Legal History Become? 383

empire at the close of the nineteenth century? Legal notions such as occupation
and conquest as bases of European territorial rule have become fruitful topics of
research.4 Natural law is no longer thought as a uniquely pacifying language but
also as a repository of large justifications for war and dispossession.5 Political and
legal historians were always drawn to ‘humanitarian intervention’ as a particularly
intriguing topic. It continues to be such today, while attitudes to the beneficial
character of Western humanitarianism have become increasingly ambivalent.6
Historical treatments of genocide and crimes against humanity have often been
concerned to explore the question of apologies, compensations, and the politics
(and law) of memory. The development of economic law and the laws surround-
ing international investment are likewise being treated historically, with special
attention to their colonial dimension.7 On-​going re-​examination of the interwar
period may also be connected with a post-​colonial interest—​the rise and fall of the
mandates system provides a fruitful platform on which to examine the transforma-
tions of imperial rule.8 So does the examination of the strategies of non-​European
jurists in the early twentieth-​century international institutions.9 New research is
also directed to the first decades of the United Nations. Scholars are keen to under-
stand what happened to the early embrace by international institutions of the ‘New
International Economic Order’, including such connected projects as technology
transfer to the third world and the distribution of proceeds from the extraction
of seabed mineral resources at the law of the sea conference (1974–​1982). Where
did ‘permanent sovereignty to natural resources’, UNESCO’s ‘new international
information order’ or the commodity agreements once imagined as the centre of
international development, disappear?10
Much of this new work is fed by present-​day concerns; it is history ‘of the pre-
sent’. As the United Nations celebrates its 70th anniversary, many of the organiza-
tion’s declared objectives—​the creation of a more just and peaceful world seem no
closer than they were in 1945. Global inequality is rising—​according to studies
carried out by Oxfam and Credit Suisse last year, one per cent of the world popula-
tion owns more than the remaining 99 per cent combined, and that 69 per cent of
that wealth lies in Europe and North America with a share of world population of
only 18 per cent.11 War in the Middle East has led to a refugee problem unforeseen

4  A recent work is Andrew Fitzmaurice, Sovereignty, Property and Empire 1500-​2000 (2015).
5  Apart from Anbghie above, see also Richard Tuck, The Rights of War and Peace. Political Thought
and the International Order from Grotius to Kant (1999).
6  See e.g. Anne Orford, International Authority and the Responsibility to Protect (2011).
7  Kate Miles, The Origins of International Investment Law: Empire, Environment and the Safeguarding
of Capital (2013).
8  A good example would be Susan Pedersen, The Guardians: The League of Nations and the Crisis
of Empire (2015).
9  See Arnulf Becker Lorca, Mestizo International Law:  A  Global Intellectual History 1842-​1933
(2015).
10  Sundhuya Pahuja, Decolonising International Law: Development, Economic Growth and the Politics
of Universality (2013); Luis Eslava, Michael Fahkri, and Vasuki Nesiah (eds.), Bandung, Global History
and International Law: Critical Pasts and Pending Futures (2016).
11  ‘Having it All and Wanting More, Report on Inequality 2015’, Oxfam, 19 January 2015, <http://​
policy-​practice.oxfam.org.uk/​publications/​wealth-​having-​it-​all-​and-​wanting-​more-​338125?cid=rdt_​
384

384 Martti Koskenniemi

in Europe since the Second World War (though of course massive refugee fluxes
have been part of the everyday in the developing world). The collapse of the ‘Arab
Spring’ has fed deadly conflict and authoritarianism across the Middle East and
beyond. Both ‘terrorism’ and obsessive ‘anti-​terrorism’ have made transgressing any
international legal rules part of the global everyday. And then there is Trump. The
problem is not only that it is hard to say which rules are in force and which are not,
but that the very ideological structure of liberal progress that used to provide the
foundation for legal polices may have crumbled away. It would be trite to speak of
the ‘normalization of the exception’, the exception was always latent in the law. The
more sombre assessment suggests that in fact the decades between the Cold War
and the fall of the Twin Towers were the exception and that we are now back in the
melancholy normality of inequality and violence.
Whichever way one prefers to think about that last problem, it seems clear that
many received ideas about the inexorable march of international progress have
shown themselves at least unworkable, if not outright wrong. The international
legal project is not faring well. When, to take just one example, did the International
Law Commission of the United Nations, assigned to deal with the ‘codification
and progressive development of international law’ and reporting annually to the
UN General Assembly, last make a contribution that had any influence on the
lives of human beings anywhere? Who will remember the latest maritime delimi-
tation from the International Court of Justice? The World Trade Organization’s
(1995) Doha round has been stalled for more than a decade and the International
Criminal Court (1998) is facing a rebellion from African States tired of being at
the receiving end of prosecutions. Even the arguably more significant aspects of
recent progress—​the human rights system and the rise of international environ-
mental law—​seem bogged down undecided about whether to think of themselves
in terms of ideology or bureaucratic technology.12 Syria, Ukraine, the Middle East,
and South Sudan … the refugee crisis has made the expression of ultra-​nationalist,
even racist, sentiments part of Western politics. The time​scale and even the direc-
tion of what international lawyers used to think about progress must be revised.
True, there is some advance in the UN’s ‘millennium goals’. Extreme poverty in the
developing countries has dropped in 1990–​2015 from 47 to 14 per cent. Today
91 per cent of children in the developing world enjoy primary education, child
mortality has been halved, and gender equality is on the rise.13 But these results can
hardly be accredited to international law. And how are they compatible with the
data on the growth of global inequality? Will the world’s new inhabitants become
a global underclass to be exploited by the one per cent? The gap between the global
economy and local political contestation keeps expanding without expectation that
international law might have any influence on either.

havingitall> and ‘Global Wealth Report 2015’, Credit Suisse, October 2015, p. 6, <https://​publica-
tions.credit-​suisse.com/​tasks/​render/​file/​?fileID=F2425415-​DCA7-​80B8-​EAD989AF9341D47E>.
12  I have argued this in ‘The Fate of International Law. Between Technique and Politics’, The Modern
Law Review 70 (2007), 1–​32.
13  United Nations, The Millennium Development Goals Report (2015).
 385

What Should International Legal History Become? 385

Recent post-​colonial histories share the intuition that something about present
inequality and violence bears an inheritance of the past. They focus on the many
ways in which international law has been implicated in colonialism and imperial-
ism. But I am doubtful about the existence of a single ‘tradition’ of international
law that would have passed through history as an instrument of European pre-
dominance and could be indicted as responsible for today’s injustice. There is as
much reason to be sceptical of that proposition as of histories that used to depict
international law as a carrier of liberal and humanitarian progress, a ‘Grotian tradi-
tion’. The relations between law and international power are much more complex
and involve contradictory ideas about what ‘international law’ or even ‘law’ is and
how it can be used.

II

Expressions such as jus gentium, droit public de l’Europe, Völkerrecht, or ‘ law of

nations’ emerged at different moments, in different parts of Europe, to give effect
to varying concerns and objectives. They do not link together in any single tradition
that could be traced, say, to Roman antiquity, Renaissance Italy or the Thirty Years’
War. This is not to say that the legal vocabularies of each moment would not feed on
each other and express ideas that can be generalized between them. For example, all
of them have something to do with mediating the tension between the autonomy
of territorial polities and an overarching set of ‘international’ norms. But how they
do this and on which side they fall in that tension is wholly dependent on the con-
text: who is arguing, and for what purpose? The relationship between Rome and
its provinces is not the same as that between the Holy Roman Empire and North
Italian City States in the fourteenth century—​but it is possible to find lawyers using
arguments from jus gentium on all sides. In the conflict between absolutist France
and other Christian powers in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century
all sides were arguing about ‘perpetual peace’—​but the meaning of such a project
could be deciphered only once we knew who was speaking. No doubt there are
reasonably stable vocabularies that address issues of international power in a legal
idiom—​just war, occupation, diplomatic immunity, mare liberum. But these words
do not emerge from any coherent blueprint—​they do not stand for any ‘system and
order’ in the words of this collection. They are vessels that carry the most varied
ideas. At least two further points challenge the assumption of a single tradition.
First is that such expressions articulate projects that are always already split
against themselves. From the twelfth to the seventeenth century, the expression
jus gentium has been associated both with immutable natural law rules that bind
the princes and their states absolutely as well as with the customary practices that
princes and their states have followed.14 From early on, many jurists, including

14  For the complexity of ‘jus gentium’, see Peter Haggenmacher, Grotius et la guerre juste (1983), pp.
311–​57; Annabel Brett, Changes of State: Nature and the Limits of the City in Early Modern Natural Law
(2011), pp. 23–​8, 75–​89.
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386 Martti Koskenniemi

Grotius, separated two distinct types of jus gentium, one associated with natural law
(jus gentium primaevum), the other with human (positive) law (jus gentium secunda-
rium).15 By choosing either understanding, it has been possible to support or cri-
tique the most varied types of policy. The complexity of the locution jus gentium,
the difficulty to pin it down with any stable meaning has, in fact, been a frequently
expressed concern of system-​minded lawyers. But that concern may be misplaced.
The very usefulness of that notion may lie in its interminable flexibility, its avail-
ability to argue whatever one needs to argue in view of one’s academic project or
client interest.
Although jus gentium cannot be said to stand for any definite political project,
any power in itself, it is of course possible to trace the ways in which it has actu-
ally been used in particular situations—​what interests has it supported, what has
been invoked against? The same can be said about international legal naturalism
of the ‘classical’ type. At only a few years’ distance from each other, the Protestant
refugee in England, Alberico Gentili and the Spanish Jesuit Francisco Suárez wrote
about the law of nations in utterly different ways. Gentili forged a theory of the
just war that opened a wide door for England to use pre-​emptive force in support
of the rebellion in Netherlands so as to combat possible intervention by Spain.16
Composing his text in a scholar’s chamber in Coimbra, Suárez suggested that the
requirement imposed by James I on his Catholic subjects to swear an oath of alle-
giance was unlawful and justified the collective intervention of Christian princes. It
is possible to see a tradition of peace and justice in the writings of both Gentili and
Suárez. But this must be a tradition that is so open-​ended as to be empty of sub-
stantive significance outside the specific context of sixteenth and early seventeenth
century imperial-​religious strife.
A number of new studies have sought to contextualize Grotius as a Dutch patriot,
a moderate activist in the Protestant cause and a legal counsel to the Dutch East
India Company (VOC). His legal writings become understandable once we situate
them in the context of those projects—​for instance his oscillation between support
to the principles of mare liberum in respect to the Portuguese empire in the East
Indies and monopoly trading rights with local rulers in his negotiations with the
English.17 This is not to point to anything dubious in his character but to show the
very flexible nature of the law that enables jurists to defend contrasting positions in
view of the interests of their clients—​which is, of course, what jurists are profession-
ally trained to do. Again, instead of there being a ‘tradition of mare liberum’ carried
within international law, there has been a vocabulary that has allowed arguing both
mare liberum and mare clausum. The best histories have demonstrated how lawyers

15  Hugo Grotius, Commentary on the Law of Prize and Booty, ed. and with an Introduction by
Martine Julia van Ittersum (2006 [1604–​6]), Prolegomena, p. 45.
16  Alberico Gentili, De iure belli libri tres (1933 [1612]), ch. XIV, pp. 61–​6; Francieco Suárez,
Defensa de la fe catolica y apostolica contra los errores del anglicanismo (1970 [1613]), ch. 23, pp. 333–​40.
17  See e.g. Arthur Weststejin, ‘Love Alone is not Enough: Treaties in 17th Century Dutch Colonial
Expansion’, in Saliha Belmessous (ed.), Empire by Treaty: Negotiating European Expansion 1600-​1900
(2015), p. 35.
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What Should International Legal History Become? 387

have argued those cases, and what it has been necessary to believe in order to think
one or other argument as the more plausible one.
I am also thinking of Emer de Vattel’s ingenious insertion of what he called ‘vol-
untary law’ between ‘necessary’ natural law and ‘conventional law’, the positive treaty
law dependent on the will of the prince(s). When Vattel wrote that ‘voluntary law’
was natural law but not quite as immutable and powerful as ‘necessary law’ but not
dependent on the changing will of the sovereign, either, he opened another way for
lawyers to argue on the basis of will and a non-​will related standard as situations might
require: ‘will’ against binding rule and the other way around. Instead of a ‘doctrine’,
what becomes visible is an argumentative move that tells much about law as tech-
nique but little of its substantive orientations.18 Again, Vattel’s natural law was not
part of any substantive tradition of war or peace, statehood, or the international order.
It was all of that at the same time, offering for later jurists an argumentative toolbox—​
a diplomatic casuistry, Ian Hunter has written—​on which they could freely draw.19
But the second and more important point about the purported ‘tradition’ of jus
gentium, droit public de l’Europe, law of nations, and our ‘public’ international law
lies in the ‘conflict of the faculties’ that has always surrounded those notions and
framed their field of applicability. For the early modern advocates of jus gentium
it was clear that the way the world was organized, and how it should be governed
was determined by theology. Early civil lawyers of the fourteenth century such as
Bartolus of Saxoferrato or his student Baldus of Ubaldis, for example, were con-
cerned over the rise of territorial regna across in northern Italy and the old Frankish
realm. They saw this as an effect of the retreat of the empire and the re-​emergence of
an old jus gentium that had provided for the ‘division of dominia’ in the first place.
And yet they were clear that however the novel situation was to be understood, def-
erence was to be paid to canon law, the only really universal law, and that denying
the emperor’s status as ‘dominus mundi’ would be heretical. To think of the history
of jus gentium without reference to Aquinas’ Summa theologiae, for example, would
be impossible. To read it in abstraction of the concerns of conscience that inspired
the Summa would be a sure way to missing its point. Why, for instance, did jus
gentium exist both in the part that deals with ‘law’ and the part that deals with the
virtue of ‘justice’?20 Because it was insufficient just to ‘apply the law’; this must be
done with the view to reaching a good outcome.
For the Spanish scholastics, Grotius and most natural lawyers until way into
the eighteenth century, the Bible remained the highest legal source and Christian
moral theology the most authoritative language for understanding the interna-
tional world. As Grotius put the matter in the opening paragraph of De jure prae-
dae: ‘What God has shown to be His Will that is law.’21 And yet we do not access

18  Emer de Vattel, The Law of Nations (2008 [1758]), pp. 75–​8.

19  Ian Hunter, ‘Law, War and Casuistry in Vattel’s Ius Gentium’, Parergon 28 (2011), 87–​104.
20  Compare Aquinas ST I-​II Q 95A 4 (resp) and II-​II Q 57 A 3 in R.W. Dyson (ed.), Political
Writings (2007), pp. 135, 163–​4.
21 Grotius, Commentary on the Law of Prize and Booty, Ch II (19).
38

388 Martti Koskenniemi

to Grotius’ religious feelings and need to bear in mind that elsewhere he wrote of a
natural reason operating at some distance from revelation. And then again during
a short period between the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth
century,ambitious jurists at German enlightenment universities such as Halle and
Göttingen used a basically secular natural law to consolidate the monarchies they
served, before they transformed it into a technology of government that imagined
itself as a Policy-​science (Polizeiwissenschaft) and a Staatskunst, oriented towards
empirical and comparative studies of the resources of rival states.22
From early eighteenth century onwards, the attention of rulers, diplomats, and
jurists interested in international affairs has been on the discovery and applica-
tion of the rules of statecraft that would enable the state to maintain and aug-
ment its power in relationship to its rivals. This was more specifically the ambition
of men such as Gabriel Bonnot de Mably whose Droit public de l’Europe (1746,
1757) hoped to inaugurate a science of negotiations that would teach statesmen
and diplomats to identify their ‘real’, long-​term interests that would allow them
to ignore their momentary passions and so devise policies advantageous to the
nation as a whole. The ‘public law of Europe’ was indebted to a combination of the
Machiavellian diplomatic tradition with the emerging science of political economy.
The law of nations would be wise policy, and wise policy consisted of calculations of
the resources available for the state and how either to maintain the balance of power
or to tilt it in an advantageous direction.23
In Britain at the same time, the most ambitious natural lawyers, many of them
from Scotland, were contemplating the principles through which what they would
call commercial societies would prosper in an increasingly tough world of economic
competition. A key part of their natural law was a conjectural history that saw all
development, including legal development, directed through predetermined stages
towards a society where free trade would lay the conditions for increasing welfare
everywhere.24 Although some of them subscribed to the idea of peace through com-
merce, others were not equally optimistic; intense debates were waged about the
pros and cons of the possession of colonies and the conditions of colonial trade. It
is no doubt symptomatic that having published his Theory of Moral Sentiments to
great acclaim in 1759, Adam Smith declared that he would now produce a legal
theory to match the psychological insights of his sentimental morality—​but that
once he moved to Glasgow to give the famous lectures of jurisprudence, the out-
come was not a theory of law but of the Wealth of Nations (1776).

22  Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Transformations of Natural Law: Germany 1648-​1815’, in Anne Orford
and Florian Hoffmann (eds.), Oxford Handbook of International Legal Theory (2016), pp. 59–81.
23  See further, Martti Koskenniemi, ‘The Public Law of Europe:  Reflections on a French 18th
Century Debate’, in Helena Lindemann et  al. (eds.), Erzählungen vom Konstitutionalismus (2012),
pp. 43–​73.
24  See Adam Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, eds. R.L. Meek, D.D. Rahael, and P. Stein (1978),
LJ(A), pp. 14–​16 and the discussion in Peter Stein, Legal Evolution:  The Story of an Idea (1980),
pp. 23–​50.
 389

What Should International Legal History Become? 389

The variants of natural and public law that preoccupied European jurists in the
eighteenth century did not survive to the nineteenth. The science of statecraft and
the calculative approach to foreign policy soon gave impetus for the establishment
of alternative vocabularies, namely those of political economy or ‘diplomatic sci-
ence’. Instead of jurists, it soon became clear that European rulers needed econo-
mists and experts in diplomacy—​in due course of ‘political science’—​to counsel
them on wise policy. Chairs of natural law at German universities were turned into
chairs of policy-​science, political economy or Nationalökonomie. What was left of
‘natural law’ became, not least under the powerful attacks waged by Immanuel
Kant and the Kantians on the old ‘Wolffian’ natural law, ‘legal philosophy’, ostra-
cized into the margins of the law faculty from where it would have no influence on
policy whatsoever. It would be only towards the last third of the nineteenth century
that activist liberal lawyers would resuscitate ‘international law’ as the platform of a
meaningful engagement with policy-​makers and diplomats.25
The world as we know it is not the product of a continuous tradition of ‘inter-
national law’ not least because there is no such tradition. I have above tried to show
that the various legal vocabularies through which jurists have addressed the ‘inter-
national’ world are internally indeterminate and speak of things that we would not
today call ‘law’ at all (virtue, faith, skilful management of state resources, diplo-
matic strategy, the creation of a international market for enterprising merchants,
etc.). And even as ‘law’ does intervene in setting out the way in which resources in
the world should be allocated and exchanged, and how international ‘development’
is to be conceived, this would not be ‘public international law’ as we now under-
stand that expression but the ‘private law’ regulating the possession and transfer of
property rights.

III

It was clear for the theologians and jurists contemplating the rise of the European
states-​system that the justification of the exercise of power therein would be a com-
plex matter. At the beginning, everyone agreed, only God has power over humans.
God was Dominus while humans were originally free and equal among themselves.
However, according to both civil and canon law, and as elaborated in countless
scholastic tracts on ‘justice and law’ from the thirteenth to the seventeenth cen-
turies, humans would soon divide things between themselves, establishing ter-
ritorial polities and proceeding from common to private property.26 Alongside
the power of the ruler as dominium jurisdictionis, there emerged the power of
the owner as dominium proprietatis. As was clear for the late medieval and early

25  Martti Koskenniemi, The Gentle Civilizer of Nations: The Rise and Fall of International Law 1870-​
1960 (2001).
26  For this narrative, see the still unsurpassed Marie-​France Renoux-​Zagamé, Origines théologiques
du concept moderne de propriété (1987).
390

390 Martti Koskenniemi

modern publicists contemplating these two forms of human power, much about
the nature of the polity depended on how their relationship was conceived. Did the
prince have the power to tax, or to expropriate the owner, and under what condi-
tions?27 Absolutism contained one set of answers to that question—​but after the
eighteenth century those answers were hardly plausible. With John Locke, Adam
Smith, and the French Revolution, the view became predominant in Europe that
private property was not only the most important of individual rights but that,
properly conceived, it was also the most important element in the legal system of a
prosperous—​thus powerful—​nation.
Historians of international law are keen to reflect, for example, on the views
of the Spanish Dominican Francisco de Vitoria on the lawfulness of the Spanish
conquest of the Indies in the sixteenth century. His famous relectiones raised
issues of just war and the powers of dominion that became standard topoi of a
whole literature moving freely between moral theology and law. Much less atten-
tion is given, however, to the massive discussion on the principles having to do
with the expansion of commerce in Europe and beyond that was triggered by the
import of silver from the American colonies. The most significant contribution,
of the ‘Salamanca school’ was, arguably, the discussion of principles of property
and contract that would fit the new commercially oriented world while still seek-
ing to balance the requirements of this new morality (and law) with Christian
ethics.28
The writings of the Salamancans on private law and commerce were accompa-
nied by the consolidation in Europe of a jus commune that was inspired by civil and
canon law and integrated to a greater or lesser extent the local laws of European
provinces. The right of private property was a central aspect of that common law.
In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries writings on lex mercatoria brought to
light the formation of a reasonably uniform set of rules to govern international
trade on the basis of private property and contract. This did not take place through
treaties between sovereigns. It emerged as a result of spontaneous developments
more or less everywhere in Europe and the colonies in response to economic and
commercial pressures. Governments debated the costs and benefits of monopolies
and worried over their inability to control interests and currency rates in a way that
made them increasingly vulnerable to the fluctuations of international commerce.
One after another Western European states would carry out agricultural reforms
leading to the privatization of common lands and drawing large populations into
great manufacturing centres. By the eighteenth century, it was held evident that
the power of a nation lies in the resources it has available to itself, this being a

27  For a useful introduction, see Kenneth Pennigton, The Prince and the Law, 1200-​1600: Sovereignty
and Rights in the Western Legal Tradition (1993).
28  I have argued this in ‘International Law and Empire: The Real Spanish Contribution’, University
of Toronto Law Journal 61 (2011), 1–​36. See now also Wim Decock, Theologians and Contract Law: The
Moral Transformation of the Ius Commune (c. 1500-​1650) (2013).
 391

What Should International Legal History Become? 391

function of its positive trade balance: it needed to produce and sell more cheaply
than its rivals.29
The massive codifications of civil law across Europe, the professionalization
of law and legal education, the rise of constitutionalism, the heritage of the jus
commune—​all these offered a legal foundation for the ‘European century’ which,
with all its conflicts and contradictions, ensured that ‘civilization’ and ‘modernity’
would equal what was going on in the continent and, increasingly, also the United
States. The differences between civil and common law systems, between the laws of
European north and south were real but nevertheless only variations of a common
theme. That these laws would be applicable to Europeans also outside Europe would
be guaranteed by complex extraterritoriality arrangements and, increasingly, by the
direct subordination of non-​European territory under European rule.
Of course, ‘law’ has been crucial in the production of European statehood and
the welfare of its populations. It also played an important role in the expansion
of European influence outside the continent and in the formation of the colonial
relationship between Europeans and others. Some of that law has been articulated in
terms of sovereign statehood, the principles of constitutionalism, good administra-
tion, and fundamental rights. A specific ‘colonial law’ also developed in the latter
half of the nineteenth century. But most laws influencing the ways of international
power consolidated the principles of private property and contract, the organization
of the family, and the conditions of work (including slavery). A history that pays no
attention to the latter cannot fulfil the ambition to illuminate law’s involvement in
how international power has been structured, supported, channelled, and opposed.

IV

A history motivated in the way suggested should give up exclusive focus on states,
sovereignty, formal diplomacy, great questions of war and peace. No doubt, a state-​
centric view haunts the imagination of jurists preoccupied with the ‘international’.
This applies also to the post-​colonial critics of empire. As long as focus is on states,
matters of great importance are left out of sight. I wrote earlier that late medieval and
early modern jurists were clear that human power is of two types—​dominium juris-
dictionis and dominium proprietatis, ‘sovereignty’ and ‘property’ for short. They were
clear that property was about power between humans, namely the power to exclude
others, and often terribly uncertain on how to justify this. Some of the earliest com-
mentators regarded private property an effect of the sin of avarice. Others saw some
benefit in the practice of buying and selling but stressed the dangers that doing this
professionally posed for one’s soul.30 It is useful to note that much of these debates took

29  See Istvan Hont, Jealousy of Trade: International Competition and the Nation-​State in Historical
Perspective (2005).
30  See Janet Coleman, ‘Propery and Poverty’, in James H. Burns (ed.), The Cambridge History of
Medieval Political Thought c. 350-​c. 145 (1988), pp. 607–​48.
392

392 Martti Koskenniemi

place under the assumption that private property was jus gentium—​that is, it was an
‘international’ law though instead of being decreed by natural law but merely ‘permit-
ted’ by it.31
In due course the idea emerged that property was justified by the labour that one
had put into producing a thing—​the ‘workmanship model’ of property that John
Locke drew from the biblical creation narrative.32 This was of course wholly insuf-
ficient for justifying the kinds of large properties that had come to accumulate for
example through the activities of the Caroline Company of which Locke was one
of the secretaries and a shareholder. The systems of banking and credit that upheld
the process of accumulation—​of great concern to contemporaries—​find little space
in standard international law histories. Nor is there much attention to how the
company could have property rights on slaves that were working in the colony for
its proprietors’ benefit. Such property right was unquestionably valid under prevail-
ing assumptions and extended throughout the North American colonies and the
Caribbean as an immensely important aspect of legal power. And yet, that power
largely escapes standard histories of international law. Worse, the concentration
of many international legal histories on the process of abolition of slavery while
staying silent on the operation of slavery as an international legal system is surely a
massive distortion of the relations of law and power. About 12.5 million Africans
embarked from Africa as slaves in 1501–​1866.33 How was the slave contract made
with the African trader? What about the conditions of sale at the American end?
That discussion of the American slave codes or the French Code Noir are no part
of regular international legal histories is striking evidence of the narrowness with
which ‘international law’ has been conceived and may perhaps explain some of the
malaise of the perceived irrelevance of the field.
A standard work in the history of international legal ideas would mention
Machiavelli and Hobbes but neither Antoine de Montchrétien nor Adam Smith.34
Such a work would dwell extensively on the Spanish conquest of the Indies but
say little about the carriage of silver from Potosi to Seville, and remain positively
silent about its contribution to oiling the wheels of global commerce (to borrow
an expression of François Braudel). Such a work would describe in detail Grotius’
views about the just war but rarely mention that he regarded the Dutch East India
Company as both a private company and representative of the United Provinces.
It would make mention of Emer de Vattel’s Droit des gens but not of the view of
Christian Thomasius (and many other German eighteenth-​century natural law-
yers) that the jus gentium was neither law (justum) nor morality (honestum) but rules
of diplomatic courtesy (decorum).35 An international legal history would also rarely

31  Brian Tierney, Liberty and Law: The Idea of Permissive Natural Law, 1100-​1800 (2014).
32  James Tully, A Discourse on Property: John Locke and His Adversaries (1980), pp. 8–​9, 35–​45.
33  Herbert S. Klein, The Atlantic Slave Trade (2nd edn, 2010), pp. 214–​15.
34  The paragraphs below follow my ‘Expanding Histories of International Law’, American Journal
of Legal History 56 (2016), 104–12.
35  Christian Thomasius, Grundlehren des Natur-​und Völkerrechts (2003 [1709]) Book I, Ch. 5 § 70
and generally 65–​81 (105–​8).
 39

What Should International Legal History Become? 393

include an analysis of the charters under which private companies and individual
proprietors would rule Britain’s thirteen colonies in North America. Nor would it
pay much attention to the seventeenth-​century uses of the vocabulary of jus gen-
tium in Britain to uphold the royal prerogative against common law institutions.
A basic history of international law might treat the East India Company’s rule
over much of the Indian peninsula from 1757 as an aberration—​while it was
merely the most conspicuous case of basic forms of English and early French colo-
nial expansion. And it would have nothing to say about the development and use
of instruments such as the letter of credit and letter of exchange as they were trans-
formed from facilitators of trade fairs into building blocks of a wholly global bank-
ing system by the end of the eighteenth century. Studies of lex mercatoria might
make reference to a series of judgments by Lord Mansfield in the 1770s that gave
legal effect to bills of exchange in violation of the common law doctrine of con-
sideration.36 But histories of international law have so far failed to notice that the
autonomy international mercantile law, recognized in those judgments as jus gen-
tium, would become a crucial instrument in the policy of ‘jealousy of trade’ that
would be regarded as a key element of the eighteenth century European foreign
policy. Virtually no attention has been given to the French efforts during the Seven
Years’ War (1756–​1763) to codify a policy of ‘balance of trade’—​and objections by
naturalists such as J. H. G. Justi according to which this would violate the ‘natural
freedom’ of economic relations.37
In other words, while international legal histories have meticulously traced the
legal trajectories of the foreign policy of states, they have paid much less attention—​
virtually no attention—​to the private law relations that undergird and support state
action that become visible only once analysis penetrates beyond what takes place in
diplomatic chancelleries. The Spanish maintained a formidable imperial presence
in the Indies, striving to rule its provinces directly through viceroys and royal cedu-
las issued through the Council of the Indies. However, in reality, the encomenderos
governed the provinces quite independently from the centre, and royal legislation
was frequently left unimplemented. The government lacked funds needed to set
up an effective government over the territories. Borrowing from an international
banking system where interest rates could not be domestically manipulated resulted
in a series of bankruptcies that sometimes paralyzed the central government. Now
the legal operations carried out with the help of new financial instruments arguably
overweighed in importance any formal legislation. The fact was not lost on Spanish
jurists themselves, whose treatises on commerce or monetary policy have often been
seen as the first in-​depth treatments of a global financial system.38 And yet, neither
the new practices nor their articulation in the legal works of Martin de Azpilcueta
or Diego de Covarrubias have been given much attention in the histories of interna-
tional law. The works of the theologian Vitoria on the Indies and on just war have of

36  Pillans v. Van Mierop, 5 Geo B.R. 1663, 1669 (1765).

37  Johann H.G. Justi, Die Chimäre des Gleichgewichts der Handlung und Schiffahrt (1759).
38  See e.g. Tomás de Mercado, Suma de tratos y contratos (1975 [1553]).
394

394 Martti Koskenniemi

course been examined in great detail—​unlike his extensive commentaries on the
rights of property and contract that sought to drive a compromise between the
orthodox Aristotelian–​Thomist suspicion of mercantile culture and the realities of
an expanding commercial system.39
International lawyers have been interested in the vicissitudes of sovereignty. Even
when their interest has been inspired by a critical attitude, they have not given up
the view that sovereignty is the concept around which legal histories, and hence
their criticisms, should revolve. They have therefore focused on the emergence of
independent ‘states’ and the extent of the sovereign rights states have claimed vis-​
à-​vis each other. They have traced the forms of diplomatic interaction and concen-
trated on war and treaty-​making as privileged instances of international authority.
They have set aside any wider interest in the relations of contract and property
that support state policies, the development of instruments for long-​distance trade
and finance that make not only trade but also the actions of the sovereign in the
‘international’ space possible. As a consequence they have, with few exceptions,
largely failed to notice the great shift in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
that accounted for the ‘jealousy of trade’ becoming a principal aspect of the strug-
gle of international power and a standard of measurement of alternative policies.40
While histories of international law feel at home discussing proposals for perpetual
peace by theologians or philosophers such as the Abbé de Saint-​Pierre or Immanuel
Kant, not much attention has been given to parallel ideas among writers in ‘political
economy’ such as Giovanni Botero or Charles Davenant.
Of course there are exceptions and deviations from the pattern. Some have
focused attention to the role of private international law in addressing ‘some of
the biggest problems the law faces today [including] the character of sovereignty
[and] the nature of legitimacy in situations of political conflict’.41 Collective works
on international legal history sometimes include essays on lex mercatoria or state
debts. Moreover, recent works in private international law have sometimes read
the relevant materials through the lenses of international politics or the organiza-
tion of global trade.42 But owing to the often intransgressible boundary between
public and private law, these have been scarce. The prejudice that public law has
to do with matters by their nature ‘political’, while private law deals with non-​
political and ‘only technical’ matters, is strong. Trade law straddles the private–​
public boundary, but so far little has been done towards producing credible,
non-​teleological histories of economic law (that is to say, histories that would not
start with Adam Smith or look towards free trade as the inevitable product of a

39  See further my ‘The Political Theology of Trade Law: the Scholastic Contribution’, in Ulrich
Fastenrath et al. (eds.), From Bilateralism to Community Interest: Essays in Honour of Judge Bruno Simma
(2011), pp. 90–​112.
40  On this theme, see Istvan Hont, Jealousy of Trade: International Competition and the Nation-​State
in Historical Perspective (2005).
41  Karen Knop, Ralf Michaels, and Annelise Riles, ‘Foreword’ to ‘Transdiclipinary Conflict of
Laws’, Law & Contemp. Prob. 71 (2008), 16.
42  Alex Mills, The Confluence of Public and Private International Law (2009).
 395

What Should International Legal History Become? 395

progressive history), especially from the perspective of reading economic decision-​

making within a state from the perspective of its overall political strategy.43
Not much historical work has been undertaken to examine the role of prop-
erty regimes for constitutional law or international policy.44 There is of course a
huge amount of writing on ‘mercantilism’ (although it is now orthodox to doubt
the appropriateness of that word to describe the myriad of economic writings that
appeared in Europe between the late sixteenth and late eighteenth centuries), but
that scholarship rarely examines the legal instruments or institutions that govern
trade policy. The relevant literature at the time made much of the role merchants
played in enhancing the power of the state. Malynes, for example, insisted in 1629
that ‘of the six members of all the governments of monarchies and common-​weales,
[the merchants] are the principal instruments to increase or decrease the wealth
thereof ’.45 Even as they often discussed about the pros and cons of trade agree-
ments, there is little international law commentary on them.

The way we think about the history of international law is part of the ‘system and
order’ we see in the international world. It directs and limits our scope of vision and
determines what, for us, seems important and unimportant, what items are worthy
of study and what may be left aside, perhaps for others to develop or study. In this
chapter I have suggested that in case the ambition of international legal history is
to grasp the role of law in supporting, channelling, and opposing power, then it is
insufficient to focus on public law and the interactions of formal states. Attention
should be directed to the ways in which the international order as a whole has been
structured so as to distribute spiritual and material values in the world. In what
ways does it help to produce and reproduce the conditions of living that exist in
different parts of the world? Very often the answers to such questions are not imme-
diately visible on the surface of things. In that case, attention must be directed to
the background rules that choose among different actors those who will be authori-
tative, picks from the facts of social behaviour those that are ‘relevant’, and singles
out from the mass of events and occurrences in the world those that qualify as ‘legal
problems’ worthy of the time and energy of international lawyers. In studying past
law it would be important to penetrate the surface of the legal ‘parole’ so as to make
visible the ‘system and order’ that conditions the production of legal thought and
practice. Among those background rules is the distinction between sovereignty and

43  An important opening in the Anglophone world in this respect is Thomas Poole, Reason of
State: Law, Prerogative and Empire (2015).
44  An interesting exception is Olivier Beaud, ‘Constitution, Ownership and Human Rights’, in
Kelly L. Grotke and Markus J. Prutsch (eds.), Constitutionalism, Legitimacy and Power: Nineteenth-​
Century Experiences (2014), pp. 127–​38 (largely denying that ‘capitalist’ property rights greatly influ-
enced the French constitution).
45  Gerard Malynes, Consuetodo vel lex mercatoria, or The Antient Law-​Merchant (1629), p. 62.
396

396 Martti Koskenniemi

property, or ‘public law’ and ‘private law’. This suggests that relations between pub-
lic power and citizens on the one hand and between private subjects on the other are
somehow very different. This assumption plays a hugely important role in structur-
ing the way lawyers but also other people think about the world. It makes us believe
that the power embedded in legislation is wholly different from the power expressed
in contract; it suggests that it would be a mistake to equate debates in a national
parliament to those at a shareholder meeting of a large company; it labels certain
transactions as ‘corruption’ while regarding other as merely ‘marketing’. Overall, it
suggests that there is a realm of distribution that should be called ‘politics’ while
another ought to be understood as ‘the economy’ and that very different account-
ability rules ought to be applied to them.
The production of such distinctions is a feat of what could be called the legal
imagination and at its best, the history of international law could illuminate how
that imagination has worked it the past—​how, for example, it has produced and
keeps reproducing the distinction of the ‘public’ and the ‘private’, including (pub-
lic) international law and the (private) moves of property and contract across the
world. By showing how such a distinction has emerged, by historicizing it, it may
be possible to think of it as just a contingent aspect of our world, something to be
reflected on its merits. If it is not a historical ‘necessity’, then why should we have
it? What does it do in the world, and to us? The work of disenchantment might be
further enhanced if it were possible to show that the distinction is actually much
more unstable than we think, that in fact, the two—​public and private—​depend
and rely on each other in a myriad of ways. Such a history of international law could
demonstrate, for example, that behind every sovereign, there is some set of relations
of property that help to sustain it, provide it with resources and determine its direc-
tion. Or conversely, it could be shown that every significant property relies on state
power and state institutions, from legislation to military force, that provide the
conditions where it may thrive. If the separation of the two—​public and private,
sovereignty and property—​is merely a contingent and unstable aspect of the law,
then it would be natural to examine its consequences by reference to alternative
ways to think about how power might be organized. At the outset of this chapter, I
noted the tremendous intensification of global inequality. Might that in some way
be the outcome of the distinction? If it is, and if the inequality itself is something
lawyers should deal with, perhaps the resources of the legal imagination that once
produced that distinction could be enlisted to throw a critical eye on it. Perhaps it
could be possible to think differently about the institutional choices through which
law affects the distribution of resources in the world. Perhaps, for example, we
could learn to think of operations in the ‘private realm’ as equally ‘political’ as those
in the public realm. Perhaps there is no great difference between being coerced by
the police and by a labour contract. Perhaps it is possible to see both virtuous behav-
iour and Mafioso arrangements across the board.
If the history of international law has the ambition to become a history of how
law has enabled, channelled, and opposed international power, then it should not
be confined by settled distinctions but take the formation of those distinctions as its
object, and enquire into their consequences. This necessitates focusing from express
 397

What Should International Legal History Become? 397

discourses to the background rules and assumptions, and demonstrating both

their contingency and their empirical effects. This may require setting aside some
conventional truths about how law operates in its relationship with power. And it
would require some imagination. Fortunately, this is a resource to which past law-
yers possess no monopoly.
398

19
State Theory, State Order, State System—​Jus
Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power
Nehal Bhuta

The historicity of international law as a system and an order is, in many ways, the
historicity of the state, its concept, and its theory. In this chapter I argue that how
we theorize the state carries with it strong consequences for how we ‘see’ the state
and how we ‘do’ the state.1 It also necessarily carries implications for whatever kind
of political and legal order we understand to lie ‘beyond’ or ‘between’ state orders
and for the sinews that bind them together.
Since at least the seventeenth century, as recognizably modern states came to
‘occupy Europe and lay siege to an entire world,’2 various state concepts have been
constitutive organizing ideas for law and legitimacy in international society. Claims
concerning the rightful and proper internal ordering of states and the constitu-
tion of state power (jus publicum, droit politique),3 have consistently stood in some
kind of relationship to claims about the constitution of international law, rightful
membership in international society, and the meaning and nature of sovereignty
in international order.4 Rightful membership in international society after 1815
was understood as resting upon the proper constitution and composition of indi-
vidual states,5 not the least because internal ordering was considered directly related

1  On ‘seeing’ the state and ‘doing’ the state, see: Joel Migdal and Klaus Schlichte, ‘Rethinking the
State’, in Klaus Schlichte (ed.), The Dynamics of States: The Formation and Crises of State Domination
(2005), pp. 1–​23.
2  Richard Tuck, Philosophy and Government 1572-​1651 (1993), pp. 91–​4.
3  Martin Loughlin, Foundations of Public Law (2010), pp. 40–​4.
4  See in particular the concise and subtle account by Andrew Hurrell, On Global Order: Power,
Values, and the Constitution of International Society (2008). Hurrell observes, for example, that the
difference between pluralism and solidarism as contemporary (ideal-​typical) visions of global order
implies profoundly different visions of the state. In the case of solidarism, ‘the relationship between
different understandings of what is meant by the term “state”… become far more consequential for
international law and for the practices of international society: the state as the embodiment of a nation
or people; the state as a territorially bounded polity; the state as an organizational unit, administering
society, and extracting resources from it.’ (ibid. at p. 66). See also ibid. pp. 114–​17, noting that descrip-
tively and normatively, the rise of complex governance beyond the state ‘involve[s]‌a very different view
of the state … [giving] ontological primacy to individuals and groups within the state: what states are
and how they act is based on the character of state-​society relations.’
5  Ian Clark, Legitimacy in International Society (2005).

State Theory, State Order, State System – Jus Gentium and the constitution of Public Power. Nehal Bhuta.
© Nehal Bhuta, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
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Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 399

to an expectation of rightful conduct in respect of other states. The relationship
between (internal) ‘right ordering’ and (external) ‘rightful conduct’ was perhaps
most clearly expressed in the nineteenth-​century concept of the standard of civili-
zation. Uncivilized political societies, whose internal ordering (for racial, religious,
or historical reasons) did not correspond to the legal and ethical principles char-
acteristic of civilized societies, did not qualify for plenary membership of the fam-
ily of states nor for complete sovereign rights, because they were constitutionally
incapable of reciprocating the lawful conduct of full members of international soci-
ety.6 Ian Clark notes from a contemporary standpoint that ‘many of the key issues
that exercised policy makers since the 1990s—​such as humanitarian intervention,
democracy promotion … post-​conflict reconstruction, [rogue states] and regime
change—​are all at base symptomatic’7 of a shifting conception of rightful member-
ship; that is, of legitimate statehood. The closely related claims about ‘revolutions
in sovereignty’ are ‘actually about the proper form and function of the state, which
hitherto have been expressed through the medium of doctrines of sovereignty.’8
Every concept of sovereignty, it would seem, presupposes a concept of the state,
and every state concept achieves determinacy within a state theory.
In the first part of this chapter I develop this contention by arguing that state
concepts and state theories are performative: they partially constitute the object
that they describe, and become means through which the state order is justified,
materialized, and indeed organized. As such, state theory and state concept are
indispensable to any actually existing state order, and have strong determinative
consequences for the intellectual construction of international law as a legal order
and system of relations between and across state orders. In the second and third
parts of this chapter, I try to demonstrate the organizing force of state concepts on
the conceptualization of the nature of the order of international law, and also the
way in which jus naturae et jus gentium became essential to the theorization and
reproduction of the distinctive kind of public power we associate with the modern
state concept.

I.  State Theory and State Concept

As a historically determinate theoretical phenomenon, ‘state theory’ refers to a

family of mostly German theoretical and political writings from the nineteenth
century: Staatslehre or Staatsrechtslehre (State Theory or State Law Theory).9 The
central problematic of this theoretical constellation was how to characterize the

6  Jennifer Pitts, ‘Boundaries of Victorian International Law’, in Duncan Bell (ed.), Victorian Visions
of Global Order -​Empire and International Relations in Nineteenth Century Political Thought (2007),
pp. 67–​88.
7 Clark, Legitimacy in International Society, p. 160 (n. 5). 8 Ibid.
9  Michael Stolleis, Public Law in Germany, 1800-​1914 (2001). Duncan Kelly, The State of the
Political: Conceptions of Politics and the State in the Thought of Max Weber, Carl Schmitt and Franz
Neumann (2003).
40

400 Nehal Bhuta

fundamental nature of the state and how to theorize the sources of state power and
authority. A  closely related—​perhaps even generative—​question, concerned the
source of the political order embodied in the state, and whether that order was pro-
ductive of or parasitic upon legal order. The problem of how to identify the bearer
of sovereignty within the state, which preoccupied German constitutional law after
1815, was a problem endowed by the various princes’ decision to grant constitu-
tions to their territories, seemingly binding themselves to a law and state structure
that originated in their own will and in the absence of any successful revolutions in
German territories. The resulting dualism of prince and people—​somewhat remi-
niscent of the Middle Ages’ dispute concerning the ‘holder’ of sovereign power—​
was sought to be resolved through theories of state and state law.
The theoretical answers given to such questions as ‘what is the nature of the state?’
and ‘who is the bearer of the sovereignty of the state?’ ranged from an idea of the state as
an organism or person (Bluntschli), to Gierke’s emphasis on Germanic Genossenschaft
as the true source of national law’s binding qualities, to Stahl’s attribution of state
personality to the real person of the monarch.10 The theoretical answers generally had
significant practical consequences: at stake in such conceptual contestations over the
state and its essence was the real conflict between contending political forces organ-
ized around the poles of ruler sovereignty (monarchical government) and popular sov-
ereignty (parliamentarism), as well as the consequences of the social transformation
that characterized nineteenth-​century Germany—​the dissolution of the traditional
authority of estate-​based orders, the social emancipation of the individuals, and the
free movement and ownership of capital.11
The intellectual ferment over state theory was thus a ferment over the intel-
lectual foundations of the modern state and the basis upon which its sovereign
power was generated, authorized, and wielded. As such, it was intimately con-
nected with arguments about the nature of public law and of public authority as
exercised through and under law.12 Where one stood on such state-​theoretical
questions carried strong implications for what kind of domestic and supra-​
national legal and political orders were conceivable and considered realizable.
Thus, in state theory treatises of the second half of the nineteenth century, inter-
national law appears as a subdivision of state theory,13 while in the D’Alembert

10  For an overview of these theories, see Kelly, The State of the Political (n. 9) and also Ernst-​Wolfgang
Böckenforde, State, Society and Liberty: Studies in Political Theory and Constitutional Law, trans. J.A.
Underwood (1991), chs. 1–​4.
11 Böckenforde, State, Society and Liberty, pp. 82–​3 (n 10). Comparably, Laborde notes that a
renewed interest in state theory in early-​twentieth century France reflected a ‘deep sense of crisis’ that
stemmed from the increased demands placed on the state in the form of social and economic interven-
tion, and challenges to its political legitimacy from the left and the right. This turn to state theory led to
‘new conceptual problematics which … focused on the relation between the social fabric and political
authority’. Cécile Laborde, ‘Pluralism, Syndicalism and Corporatism: Léon Duguit and the Crisis of
the State (1900–​1925)’, History of European Ideas 22(3) (1996), 227–​44, 224.
12  Martin Loughlin, ‘In Defence of Staatslehre’, Der Staat, 48(1) (2009), 1–​27. Duncan Kelly,
‘Egon Zweig and the Intellectual History of Constituent Power’, in Kelly L. Grotke and Markus J.
Prutsch (eds.), Constitutionalism, Legitimacy, and Power (2014), pp. 332–​50.
13  See e.g. Johann Caspar Bluntschli, The Theory of the State (1885), pp. 13–​15.
 401

Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 401

and Diderot’s Encyclopédie, droit des gens is described as one of two branches of
public law.14
To argue about the state and its essential nature (or lack of it) is to make claims
about the foundations of its coercive authority; it is also to make an argument about
law’s authority as it relates to these foundations. If we step back from the histori-
cal context of Staatslehre and its disputations, we might recognize that the types of
questions and problematiques that characterized ‘state theory’ as a specific theo-
retical tradition continue to preoccupy us today. There is undoubtedly a pervasive
sense that we inhabit, and reflect upon, a world in which state-​centred thinking
and staatliche concepts have lost purchase, and in which fundamental legal-​politi-
cal categories and vocabularies appear to have been decisively untethered from the
concrete historical circumstances that gave birth to them (democracy, the rule of
law, constitutionalism, administrative law, solidarity, public authority, to name a
few). But despite—​or perhaps, precisely because of, the ever-​louder exhortation
to think ourselves ‘beyond the state’, we are also living through a period in which
some of the animating questions of state theory are being disinterred, re-​examined
and renovated. The statist (or, staatliche) presuppositions of our inherited politi-
cal and legal vocabularies are being subjected to profound scrutiny, whether with
a view to demonstrating their severability from plausible theoretical accounts of
concepts such as democracy and constitutional order, or, in order to underline the
deep conceptual puzzles generated by attempting to coherently articulate a concept
like ‘global law’.15
But another global field of intellectual and practical endeavour has also brought
essential questions of state theory to the fore: state-​building. Beginning in the last
years of the Cold War, international organizations, coalitions of sovereign states,
and non-​government organizations have engaged in lengthy and intensive attempts
to re-​found durable and effective political orders in the aftermath of civil conflict
or foreign intervention, usually under the auspices of United Nations-​mandated
peacemaking and peacekeeping initiatives,16 and more dramatically after foreign
interventions (Kosovo, Iraq). The result is a new techno-​practical discourse of
state-​ness, in which the state is understood as (partly or predominantly) a techni-
cal achievement, amenable to a variety of programmes of intentional institutional
design, therapeutic political techniques (such as transitional justice) and expert

14  Denis Diderot and Jean d’Alembert (eds.), L’ Encyclopédie ou Dictionnaire Raisonné Des Sciences
Des Arts et des metiers, 5 vol. (1969) [1751]. Robert Morrissey and Glenn Roe (eds.), University of
Chicago: ARTFL Encyclopédie Project (Spring 2016 edn), available at <http://​artflsrv02.uchicago.edu/​
cgi-​bin/​extras/​encpageturn.pl?V5/​ENC_​5-​127.jpeg>.
15  For recent examples:  Hans Lindahl, Fault Lines of Globalization:  Legal Order and the Politics
of A-​Legality (2013). See also Neil Walker, Intimations of Global Law (2015). Alexander Somek, The
Cosmopolitan Constitution (2014).
16  For the vast literature see, Roland Paris, At War’s End: Building Peace after Civil Conflict (2004).
Simon Chesterman, You, the People: The United Nations, Transitional Administration, and State-​Building
(2005). Gregory H. Fox, Humanitarian Occupation (2008). Lise Morjé Howard, UN Peacekeeping in
Civil Wars (2007). Roland Paris and Timothy D. Sisk (eds.), The Dilemmas of Statebuilding: Confronting
the Contradictions of Postwar Peace Operations (2009). Francis Fukuyama, State-​Building: Governance
and World Order in the 21st Century (2004).
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402 Nehal Bhuta

knowledge claims about how to generate ‘state strength’ and combat ‘state weak-
ness’.17 The seemingly obvious relationship18 between weak states and the threat of
transnational non-​state terrorism has accelerated and deepened this tendency, with
a strong interest in being able to claim to understand the ‘drivers’ of state-​fragility in
order better to intervene so as to contain them and the security risks they intimate.
This technical-​functional terminology of state-​ness has even started to penetrate
the categories of international law governing state sovereignty, with an accelerating
willingness to accept the idea that weak states of a certain kind (those ‘unable or
unwilling’ to control non-​state terrorist groups on their territory) may be subject to
the lawful use of military force against them, through tactics such as drone strikes.19
In both its theoretical and technical registers, our contemporary reflection on the
state returns us to such questions as: what is a state? How is a state founded? How
does it vindicate its claim rightfully to coerce a population and control the terri-
tory? How are political, social, and economic power generated and concentrated
into an apparatus of government? What is the relationship between legal norms
(and normativity generally) and factual power of the kind that the state must both
generate and rest upon?
The activity of answering questions such as these in relation to a phenomenon
such as ‘the state’ can reasonably called ‘theory’, but it is a kind of theorizing not
easily amenable to clear-​cut distinctions between Is and Ought, Fact and Value, or
the Descriptive and the Normative. At the time of its emergence as a distinct and
distinguishable term towards the end of the sixteenth century,20 ‘the state’ was at
once a descriptive and prescriptive concept articulated and argued for in order to re-​
present a contemporary reality in a way that ‘help[ed] particular people understand
and define, and thus begin to deal with, certain problems.’21 A state-​concept is at
once a theory-​dependent notion, and a reality-​shaping theoretical instrument, as
Geuss elucidates:
In interesting cases, like ‘the state,’ introducing the ‘concept’ requires one to get people
not merely to use a certain word, but also to entertain a certain kind of theory, which has a
strong ‘normative’ component. You don’t ‘have’ the concept of the state unless you have the

17  See, inter alia, James Dobbins and others, The Beginner’s Guide to Nation-​Building (2007). See
also the vast synthesis of these kinds of arguments achieved by the World Bank’s World Development
Report of 2011: World Bank, Conflict, Security and Development (2011). For a reading of this dis-
course, see Nehal Bhuta, ‘Against State-​Building’, Constellations 15 (2008), 517–​42; Nehal Bhuta,
‘Governmentalizing Sovereignty: Indexes of State Fragility and the Calculability of Political Order’,
in Kevin Davis, Angelina Fisher, Benedict Kingsbury, and Sally Engle Merry (eds.), Governance by
Indicators: Global Power Through Quantification and Rankings (2012).
18  In fact, the relationship is not self-​evident once one starts to try to identify the attributes of the
concept of state weakness and relate it to specific security risks: see Stewart Patrick, ‘Weak States and
Global Threats: Fact or Fiction?’, The Washington Quarterly, 29(2) (2006), 27–​53; Edward Newman,
‘Weak States, State Failure, and Terrorism’, Terrorism and Political Violence 19(4) (2007), 463–​88.
19  See the dispassionate but generally supportive argument of Theresa Reinold, State Weakness,
Irregular Warfare, and the Right to Self-​Defense Post-​9/​11 (2011). See also Christian J. Tams, ‘The Use of
Force against Terrorists’, European Journal of International Law 20(2) (2009), 359–​97.
20  Quentin Skinner, ‘A Genealogy of the Modern State’, Proceedings of the British Academy (2008),
pp. 325–​70.
21  Raymond Geuss, Philosophy and Real Politics (2008), pp. 43–​4.
 403

Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 403

idea of a freestanding form of authority. And the idea of authority requires some appeal to
notions like ‘ought’ or ‘should.’… Characteristically, the concept ‘the state’ is introduced
together with a theory about the nature and source of the authority which the abstract entity
so named is supposed to have. In the early modern period this was usually some version of
the social contract theory. Of course, once the state actually gets established as a distinct
and massive social reality that cannot be ignored, one can come to reflect that the purported
sources of its ‘authority’ are deficient … When they were introduced, concepts like ‘the
state’ did not exactly mirror any fully pre-​existing reality, because using these concepts rep-
resented as much an aspiration as a description. It is also the case that merely using the con-
cepts did not by itself, without the assistance of real social forces that actually act in history,
bring any state into existence; neither concepts nor theories realize themselves. Nevertheless
inventing this new concept, in this case by transforming the meaning of existing terms such
as status/​estat/​stato, could be an important contribution to clarifying an obscure situation
and to guiding action directed at institutional change. Having the ‘concept’ (… including
the various theory-​fragments that were associated with it) meant that one saw certain prob-
lems clearly …, and it also meant that one had a solution, or at any rate a suggestion for a
solution that one could try to put to work…22
Geuss observes that one of the consequences of a (successful) conceptual innova-
tion such as the concept of ‘the state’ is that ‘when such innovations work, they
imprint themselves upon the world … Conceptual innovation … is a compli-
cated process in which descriptive, analytic, normative, and aspirational elements
are intricately intertwined… . Conceptual innovations often “stick”, escape our
control and become part of reality itself. [Once invented,] the idea of the “state”
can come into contact with real social forces with unforeseeable results. The “tool”
develops a life of its own, and can become an inextricable part of the fabric of life
itself.’23
Theoretical claims about what the state is, how it is formed, stabilized, and
justified, do not only describe, they also (where successful) generate schemata
of interpretation that orient action, spur attempts to realize certain designs, and
underwrite certain kinds of abstentions or interventions.24 To theorize the state at
certain junctures and in the crucible of certain great epochal shifts, is to engage in
an effort to interpret and change the world by endeavouring to shift the schemata
of intelligibility and reference that orient thought, judgment, and action. Foucault
captures pellucidly this movement between the ‘conceptual’ and the ‘real’ in the
European state theories of the early seventeenth century:
It would be absurd to say that the set of institutions we call the state date from this period
of 1580 to 1650 … After all, big armies had already emerged … Taxation was established
before this, and justice even earlier… . But what is important … and what is at any rate a

22  Ibid., pp. 44–​6. 23  Ibid., pp. 47–​9.

24 Unsurprisingly, Skinner maintains a similar view about how theorization is—​in the right
context—​a form of action: ‘Our concepts form part of what we bring to the world in our efforts to
make sense of it. The shifting conceptualizations to which this process gives rise constitute the very stuff
of ideological debate … Koselleck and I both assume that we need to treat our normative concepts
less as statements about the world than as tools and weapons of ideological debate.’ Quentin Skinner,
‘Retrospect: Studying Rhetoric and Conceptual Change’, in Visions of Politics (2002), pp. 176–​7.
40

404 Nehal Bhuta
real, specific, and incompressible historical phenomenon is the moment this something, the
state, really entered into reflected practice.25 … What is a king? What is a sovereign? What is
a magistrate? What is a constituted body? What is a law? What is a territory? … All these
things began to be thought of as elements of the state. The state is therefore a schema of
intelligibility for a whole set of already established institutions, a whole set of given realities
… The state is therefore the principle of intelligibility of what is, but equally of what must be;
one understands what the state is in order to be more successful in making it exist in reality.26
A state theory is (or, under the right conditions of felicity,27 at least could be) ‘per-
formative’. A performative utterance, in Austin’s famous definition, is one which
does (performs) the act or is a constitutive part of the action, rather than one which
describes an action (constative) or demands or exhorts it.28 The ‘conditions of felic-
ity’ for even a simple performative utterance (such as naming a ship) to be complete
are demanding.29 But the concept of performativity has been extended in recent
social theory to attempt to grasp the ways in which theoretical action (concepts,
models, causal claims, normative contentions) can not only have empirical effects
by becoming a reason for action, but also become a constitutive part of the world
that they diagnose and describe. In this sense of performative, theories or models
‘contribute toward enacting the realities they describe’.30 The modalities of theo-
retical performativity could be numerous.31 A model or theory posits a world, in
order to gain purchase upon a reality that (at least in the first instance) confronts
it. The action of theorizing takes an ambiguous and obscure reality and endeavours
to articulate it as a connected order of facts, concepts and so forth. Articulation
implies description but exceeds it, bringing new properties into being by compos-
ing elements and stabilizing compositions and relations between composites.32 If
the composition ‘catches on’ and becomes assimilated into thought, argument, or
as a rule informing practice and judgment, the theoretical action (conceptual inno-
vation, in Geuss’s terms) has described reality but also transformed it. The path to
such a ‘catching on’ may be surprising and indirect, and will always be the result of

25  Michel Foucault, Security, Territory, Population, Michel Senellart, François Ewald, and Alessandro
Fontana (eds.), (2009), p. 247.
26  Ibid., pp. 286–​7 (n. 25).
27  Pierre Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, John Thompson (ed.), trans. Gino Raymond and
Matthew Adamson (7th edn, 1999), p. 73, for a gloss on John L. Austin, How to Do Things with Words:
Second Edition, James O. Urmson and Marina Sbisà (eds.) (1975), p. 8, pp. 14–​15.
28  e.g. ‘By the power invested in me by the state of New York, I pronounce you husband and wife.’
This is a performative utterance that marries a man and a woman, it does not describe (Jane and John
got married) or exhort (Jane and John should really get married). Austin, How to Do Things with Words,
p. 6 (n. 27).
29 Austin, How to Do Things with Words, p. 23 (n. 27).
30  Michel Callon, ‘What Does It Mean to Say That Economics Is Performative?’, in Donald A.
Mackenzie, Fabian Muniesa, and Lucia Siu (eds.), Do Economists Make Markets? On the Performativity
of Economics (2007), p. 315.
31  See Donald Mackenzie, ‘Is Economics Performative? Option Theory and the Construction of
Derivatives Markets’, Journal of the History of Economic Thought 28(1) (2006), 29–​55.
32  Emmanuel Didier, ‘Do Statistics Perform the Economy?’, in Donald A. MacKenzie, Fabian
Muniesa, and Lucia Siu (eds.), Do Economists Make Markets?:  On the Performativity of Economics
(2007), pp. 305–​6.
 405

Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 405

the human and technological mediators acting in contexts. For example, conceiv-
ing of human agency as a rational faculty equivalent to a relationship of dominium
over property—​as the late Scholastics did—​was not an ex nihilo theoretical innova-
tion.33 But it was an arduous recomposition of Thomist and Dominican thought
that paved the way for a transformational new theory of state power—​a theoretical
innovation indispensable to the architecture of legal order (natural and civil) more
generally. Such a theory of human agency became the presupposition for a theory
of public power and of legal obligation, that was concretely enacted and contested
through real actions—​as assertions of authority, defenses of right, and above all
through violence and coercion within and between human communities.
It is important to note here that to contend that state theories are performa-
tive does not imply that theories are magical words, acting on reality merely by
articulating it. Neither concepts nor theories realize themselves, no matter how
brilliant and comprehensive.34 Rather it is to maintain that under contingent but
determinate historical conditions which we can at least partially grasp, (some) state
concepts and state theories become constitutive of how we enact the state and, in
the last instance, how we (attempt to) create, authorize, maintain, and reinforce
(or disqualify) political orders. To reiterate Foucault’s summation in his lectures on
Security, Territory, Population, ‘one understands what the state is in order to be more
successful in making it exist in reality’.

II.  External State Law’s Ontology of Stateness

It is perhaps a cliché of the twentieth century historiography of international law

to decry its statist orientation, its reification of state-​will, and its understanding of
the order of international law as constituted through the free will of its privileged
subject, the state. As Jouannet demonstrates, such a characterization of interna-
tional law as a system of states, or an ‘anarchical society’ of self-​contained state
orders bound together solely through contractual or consensual ties, takes shape
not contemporaneous with the Treaties of Westphalia, but in the last decade of the
eighteenth century and first two decades of the nineteenth century—​in particular
after the Congress of Vienna.35

33  See, with the most subtlety, Annabel S. Brett, Changes of State: Nature and the Limits of the City
in Early Modern Natural Law (2011), ch. 2.
34  Skinner, ‘A Genealogy of the Modern State’, pp.  348–​54 (n. 20). Skinner observes that
Hobbes’ theoretical genius was to provide clear and decisive arguments for overturning previ-
ous state theories which conceived of the state as either inhering in the body of the people or in
the person of the monarch, and proposing instead the state as an artificial person and persona
ficta that stood distinct from the actual multitude and the person of the ruler. But this had ‘little
immediate impact on English political debate’ (p. 348), being adopted more quickly in Germany
by Pufendorf and in Switzerland by Vattel before being embraced in English political thought in
the mid-​eighteenth century.
35  Emmanuelle Jouannet, The Liberal-​Welfarist Law of Nations: A History of International Law, trans.
Christopher Sutcliffe (2012), ch. 10.
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406 Nehal Bhuta

The ‘truly foundational status’36 acquired by the notion of the will of the state
in the nineteenth century presupposed a plurality of autonomous state orders that
held legal and political supremacy over a particular population and territory, and
which were internally constituted in a manner which refracted these historical,
spatial, and geographic particularities of a people (nation) and place (territory).37
As much as such a vision of order appeared to rest only upon formal legal bonds
expressly agreed between a diversity of free-​standing state orders, each with their
distinctive political, religious, and economic institutions—​i.e. a plurality of demoi
and ethoi—​it simultaneously presupposed a substantive and thickly prescriptive
state-​concept as a condition of possibility for membership in the ‘family’ of sover-
eign states endowed with the capacity for such juridical relationships. The status of
a state as both legal and moral subject rested upon a strong ontology of the sources
of its unity, boundedness, and agency—​as a nation, a bearer of a culture, and a
participant (or potential participant) in a universal civilization that included a high
degree of commonality in the legal and political foundations of the state and its
internal organization.38
With such an ontology, the law of nations became a regionally-​derived law of civi-
lizational membership bound to a philosophy of history and state-​theory rooted in
eighteenth and nineteenth century Europe and its concepts of law, property, public
power, and private right.39 Interference in the ‘interior’ or ‘reserved domain’ of states
corresponding to this (spatially-​delimited) cohort of political and legal orders was
strictly prohibited and the absoluteness of their rights as states consecrated. But politi-
cal orders that did not bear the hallmarks of such state-​ness were not equally protected
from intervention and indeed were not bearers of the plenary rights held by civilized
states. Those political orders—​such as late Qing China and late Tokugawa Japan—​
that found themselves demoted to bearers of partial and limited state-​ness within a
universal legal order of hierarchical inequality, reacted in part by seeking to appro-
priate and reproduce within their territories the very state-​concepts and techniques
of state science that were identified with full membership in the order of sovereign
states.40

36 Jouannet, The Liberal-​Welfarist Law of Nations, p. 119 (n. 35).

37  See e.g. the chapters concerning Hegel and Fichte in this volume.
38  See Carl Schmitt, The Nomos of the Earth in the International Law of the Jus Publicum Europaeum
(2006), pp. 185–​209. Allen W. Wood (ed.), Hegel: Elements of the Philosophy of Right (1991), § 339:
‘The European nations form a family with respect to the universal principle of their legislation, cus-
toms, and culture.’
39  See, rather iconically, James Lorimer, The Institutes of the Law of Nations; a Treatise of the Jural
Relations of Separate Political Communities (1883), Vol 1, pp. 93–​113. But similar conclusions can be
drawn from any leading nineteenth-​century international law treatise. See the various sources discussed
in Jouannet, The Liberal-​Welfarist Law of Nations, ch. 11 (n. 35).
40 Tong Lam, ‘Policing the Imperial Nation:  Sovereignty, International Law, and the Civilizing
Mission in Late Qing China’, Comparative Studies in Society and History 52(4) (2010), 881–​908. Lam
writes (887) of the establishment of a national police force (including a mandatory curriculum on the
law of nations) in 1901:
 407

Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 407

The boundary condition for international law as a system of right inter gentes
was not anarchy (a global disorder of self-​contained orders) but the reification
of a specific set of historical conditions (the three-​centuries long emergence of
the European state through religious civil war, absolutist monarchy, and national
revolution) into a performative ideal of stateness. Under this ideal of stateness, the
order of nineteenth century international law was liberal in as much as states are
understood as particular individual wills relating to one another as independent
entities and each pursuing their particular welfare.41 Outside this spatial–​civili-
zational zone of liberal relations, the order of international law was asymmetri-
cal and conditional. Other political and legal orders were not nullities, nor were
they immediately subordinated to civilized states. Rather, they enjoyed at best
only conditional reciprocity and existed within a zone of surveillance and incipi-
ent tutelage, potentially requiring intervention in order to ensure the universal
norms and conduct demanded by states conforming to this ideal type.42 The order
of international law was an association of states conducting themselves liberally
inter se, and licensing the exercise of their coercive authority over other, ‘un-​state’,
political and legal orders in a manner similar to a community regulating its minors
or its deviants. A key aspect of this nineteenth century state-​concept—​the idea of
the state as an independent and individual will, unlimited in its freedom except
through the will of other states or its self-​imposed legal obligations—​would persist
well into the twentieth century, even as the underpinnings of nineteenth cen-
tury state theory died a slow and turbulent death under assault from within (the
critique of the metaphysical theory of the state)43 and without (Japan’s rise to
civilized power status and the emergence of anti-​colonial movements).44 In a dia-
lectical irony that Hegel would not have failed to notice, the true universalization
of sovereign statehood in the mid-​twentieth century would be the result of the
insistence by colonized and subjugated peoples to their own status as nations with
particular, concrete existences, that are equally entitled to absolute respect for their
independence and internal affairs.

[I]‌n order to defend its territorial rights the Qing had to display certain competencies in gov-
erning its population within a bounded territory using the latest political technologies. …
[T]hese new technologies were employed as more than just a performance of modernity; they
also enabled the state to reconceptualize and remake its people by transforming them from
imperial subjects into national citizens, as was required by the proposed constitutional state.
The preoccupation with these two concerns became the underlying impetus for the formation
of the Qing’s national police, coordinated by the central government using a statewide standard.
41  Here the formulation is taken from Allen Wood (ed.), Hegel: Elements of the Philosophy of Right,
§§ 336–40 (n. 38). At § 337, Hegel captures the logic of such an inter-​state order concisely: ‘The
immediate existence of the state as the ethical substance, i.e. its right, is directly embodied not in
abstract but in concrete existence and only this concrete existence, rather than any universal thoughts
which are held to be moral commandments, can be the principle of its action and behaviour.’
42  See e.g. Davide Rodogno, Against Massacre: Humanitarian Interventions in the Ottoman Empire,
1815-​1914 (2015), pp. 49–​62.
43  See e.g. Leonard T. Hobhouse, The Metaphysical Theory of the State: A Criticism (1918). See also,
David Runciman, Pluralism and the Personality of the State (Rev edn, 2005), chs. 6–​9.
44  See Jörg Fisch, The Right of Self-​Determination of Peoples: The Domestication of an Illusion, trans.
Anita Mage (2015), ch. 12.
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408 Nehal Bhuta

III.  Early Modern Jus Gentium’s Constitution of Public Power

But as Jouannet has trenchantly contended, this nineteenth century topos of

international law as external state law belied its descent from an earlier architec-
ture of legal norms, in which the ontology of state was not yet so self-​confidently
(and self-​servingly) aligned with a stable, idealized, European model of legal and
political order.45 Early modern jus gentium was reconstructed not so much as
the handmaiden of the emergent society of states, but as its mid-​wife, articulat-
ing a juridical foundation for the constitution of the state and public power that
did not itself derive from the state legal order, but from a natural legal order that
was at once immanent and transcendent.46 The early modern law of nature and
of nations (c. 1500 –​c. 1700) was an intellectual outgrowth of a period in which
order—​natural and civil, moral and political—​was both an urgent practical prob-
lem and a profound intellectual challenge. At the heart of the intellectual problem
was precisely the relationship between a natural order of reason, liberty and right,
and a civil order of human artifice that supervenes natural liberty and authorizes
coercion in the name of civil power and authority.
It is trite, but worth repeating, that the three-​hundred year gestation and birth
of the modern state form (c. 1300–​c. 1600) had as both pre-​cursor and by-​prod-
uct, the destruction of the medieval political and legal order. More immediately,
the urgent crises confronting European political actors and European political
thought in the seventeenth century were crises of political and social order and of
political and social authority, haunted by severe crises in the inherited frameworks
for knowledge and judgment. From our sociologically disenchanted present, the
extraordinary consecutive impacts of renaissance, reformation, counter-​reforma-
tion, and the ensuing 100 years of religious and civil war, on the horizon of late
medieval thought and action can only be partially grasped. Late medieval Europe
was of course far from static, and indeed had already been deeply punctuated since
1300 by the periodic and bitter conflicts that raged between Emperor and Papacy,47
and between universal authorities and the emerging territorially organized king-
doms and city-​states.48 The recovery and revival of Roman law as an instrument
of rule and means of centralizing authority against the vestigial particularities of
feudal order, the flourishing of urban commercial centres and expansion of trade,
and innovation in military organization from the fourteenth century, all generated
sources of destabilization and new modes of social and political organization.49

45 Jouannet, The Liberal-​Welfarist Law of Nations, chs. 2 and 7 (n. 35).

46  John N. Figgis, Political Thought: From Gerson to Grotius 1414-​1625, Seven Studies (1960).
47 See e.g. Quentin Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, Vol. 2:  The Age of
Reformation (1978), pp. 1–​40. See also, Figgis, Political Thought, p. 8 (n. 46). Figgis notes that ‘the
substitution of civil for eccelesiastical power can be traced to the claims of the civil power in the con-
troversies of the eleventh and the twelfth centuries.’
48 Figgis, Political Thought, Lectures I–​IV (n. 46); Joseph Canning, Ideas of Power in the Late Middle
Ages, 1296-​1417 (2014).
49  Marc Bloch and Geoffrey Koziol, Feudal Society (2014). Harald Kleinschmidt, Understanding the
Middle Ages: The Transformation of Ideas and Attitudes in the Medieval World (2008). Jimmy H. Burns
(ed.), The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought c.350-​c.1450 (1991).
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Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 409

Nonetheless, despite considerable conflict and disputation, late medieval society,
‘still thought of itself as one society […] [This sense of unity] eludes precise and
satisfactory statement […] but […] a belief in the actual unity of Christendom,
however variously felt and expressed, was a fundamental condition of all medieval
political thought and activity.’50 Mattingly points out that while the res publica
Christiana never amounted to a functioning legal or political administration, it
achieved ‘something like a common body of law’51 through the long and far-​from
coordinated labour of jurists trained in the universities of Paris, Bologna, Orleans,
or Naples, and working assiduously in the service of the Church, the Empire, or
one of the nascent territorial Kingdoms. Canon law, civil law, and custom, but
above all a common legalism born of a society ‘by nature universalist and founded
on spiritual things’,52 led ‘men to think of themselves as living in one society under
the rule of a common law’.53 The public law of Christendom may have been inter-
minably contested in its sources and interpretation, with the canonist maintaining
that jus naturale and jus gentium derived from moral rules implanted by God in the
hearts of mankind, and the civilian looking to those Roman law rules considered
reflective of the common reason and common consent of a universal human com-
munity of nations. But the divisions belied the extent to which the high Middle
Ages witnessed the emergence of a deep and rich common language of political
thought occurring through the medium of legal science—​a jus commune: ‘civilians
and canonists built up a rational differentiated jurisprudence which constituted a
characteristic way of looking at the world, … a “true philosophy” (vera philoso-
phia) whose priests they were.’54
It is commonly remarked that the medieval view of law presupposed an onto-
logical derivation of valid legal obligation from a divinely established order of
being: ‘central to the mentality of the medieval layman was the identification of
existing positive law with the divine order’.55 The legacy of Thomist thought’s
attempted synthesis of revelation (scripture), reason (Aristotelian philosophy), and
legal rules (civilian and canon law), was to validate human reason as a means of iden-
tifying and deriving binding obligation. Reason partook in the order of being and
thus provided an innate, God-​given means of understanding the consecrated order
maintained by eternal and divine law. Natural law could be rationally reconstructed
through the medium of reason, but the ground of its validity was not its rational-
ity, rather its status as a partial emanation of the divine order.56 Law commands

50  Garrett Mattingly, Renaissance Diplomacy (2009), p. 16.

51 Mattingly, Renaissance Diplomacy, p. 18 (n. 50). See also Joseph Canning, A History of Medieval
Political Thought: 300-​1450 (2nd edn, 2005), pp. 65–​6, pp. 114–​18.
52  Marc Bloch and Geoffrey Koziol, Feudal Society (2014), p. 80.
53 Mattingly, Renaissance Diplomacy (2009), p. 23 (n. 50).
54 Canning, A History of Medieval Political Thought, p. 114 (n. 51). Peter Stein, Roman Law in
European History (1999), pp. 65–​6. Stein describes how ‘Roman civil law became, together with canon
law and theology, part of a common Christian learned culture shared by those who occupy positions
of authority.’
55  Otto Brunner, Land and Lordship: Structures of Governance in Medieval Austria, trans. by Howard
Kaminsky and James Van Horn Melton (1992), p. 117.
56  Merio Scattola, ‘Models in the History of Natural Law’, Ius Commune -​Zeitschrift für Europaïsche
Rechtsgeschicte 28 (2001), 91–​159, at 108. Thomas Aquinas, The Summa Theologica of St. Thomas
410

410 Nehal Bhuta

rightly because it is a measure of reason, and reason commands rightly because it is

a measure of a natural order that binds us objectively as derived immediately from
divine and eternal order.57 Law is in reason alone, as Aquinas would put it, but in
the medieval order reason ‘cannot be its own light; in order to perform its work it
needs a higher source of illumination … “Nisi credideritis, non intelligetis.” ’58
The political order and its law were bound to the eternal order by natural law;
civil authority was a derivative of the authority of natural law, discerned by reason.
As one might imagine, great uncertainty remained as to what natural law required,
leaving much room to argue about the extent and nature of duties of obedience
and sources of right. Local customary law, canon law, civil law, and feudal con-
tracts could each, in the right hands and under the right conditions, vie to be
an emanation of some natural legal obligation—​or, indeed, be demoted as mere
human artifice subject to a higher law. Hence, the presumptive completeness and
objectivity of the orders of divine, eternal and natural law, were not falsified by the
fact of human conflict over their meaning—​the finitude of human understanding
implied that only partial knowledge of the totality was concretely possible and disa-
greement inevitable.59 Indeed, by extension, no human, political, and legal order
could ever be absolute, as there persisted alongside and above the laws of a political
community an ‘independent set of rules, eternal and independent of the will of the
king, and [which] can be used as a standard to measure the rightness of justice of a
government’.60 Law issued from the will of the ruler, but where the will of the ruler
did not comport with reason, it was not law but sin and might in extremis be diso-
beyed.61 The ‘lawful state’ of the medieval political order did not readily admit open
revolt against a ruler;62 after all, the status quo—​to the extent that it was an order
at all—​demanded obedience as reflecting the eternal authority of a higher order
of law, and divine law prohibited disobedience and sedition. But the possibility of

Aquinas, trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Provinc (1981), 1.2, q.90.I: ‘Law is a certain rule
and measure … First, as in that which measures and rules, and since this is a characteristic of reason,
in this way law is in reason alone … Reason has its power of moving from the will … but in order
that the will has the reason of law in those things that it commands, it is necessary that it be informed
by some reason.’
57 Aquinas, The Summa Theologica of St. Thomas Aquinas, pp. 114–​18 (n. 56).
58  Scattola, ‘Models in the History of Natural Law’, p. 95 (n. 56).
59  Ernst Cassirer, The Myth of the State (1961), p. 107: ‘Medieval philosophy could easily account
for all the inherent and necessary defects of the social order … The corpus morale et politicum was at
the same time a corpus mysticum. In spite of the differences and opposition between its parts there was,
as Thomas Aquinas said, an ordinatio ad unum and the different and conflicting forces were directed
to a common end. This principum unitatis was never forgotten. The totality of mankind appeared as a
single state founded and monarchically governed by God himself and every partial unity, ecclesiastic or
secular, derived its right from this primeval unity.’
60  Scattola, ‘Models in the History of Natural Law’, p. 110 (n. 56). Cassirer, The Myth of the State,
p. 104 (n. 59): ‘It follows that no political power can ever be absolute. It is always bound to the laws
of justice. These laws are irrevocable and inviolable because they express the divine order itself, the will
of the supreme law giver.’
61  Carl Joachim Friedrich, The Philosophy of Law in Historical Perspective (2nd edn, 1963), pp. 42f.
62 Canning, A History of Medieval Political Thought, p. 130 (n. 51).
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Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 411

resistance in the name of a superior order of right could not be excluded, and indeed
was intermittently confirmed as a caution to rulers.63
It is at the denouement of the century-​long collapse of this lawful ontology of
political order and civil obligation, that we ought to situate the specificity of early
modern jus gentium and jus naturale discourses. A recognizably modern theory of
sovereignty—​sovereign power as summa potestas and plenitudo potestatis and mark-
edly distinguished by non-​dependence (perfection, self-​sufficiency) on the authority
of universal powers—​begins to emerge, although even in Bodin the strong legacy of
the medieval ‘lawful’ state theory is visible through his cautious attitude towards the
maintenance of fundamental norms of the ancient constitution.64 With the advent
of the reformation, the germ of resistance theory inhering in the Thomistic system
of thought flowered into bitter religious civil wars in France, the Low Countries,
and the Holy Roman Empire and communal confessional violence, with rights
of resistance invoked by both confessions to oppose rulers whose sectarian affilia-
tion was understood to threaten the very salvation of the communities they ruled.
Rivalries between territorial rulers supplemented and fuelled confessional conflict
and enlarged the conflict across Northern Europe and into Italy.65 While the Thirty
Years War (1618–​1648) is commonly identified as window of epochal transition,
medieval Europe’s sense of unity had been gravely and irrevocably damaged by a
confessionalization that began in 1521 and only intensified after the 1555 Peace of
Augsburg.66
The beginnings of the uncoupling of theology from political thought had pre-
ceded the reformation by perhaps one century,67 but it is within the same two
decades as Luther’s apocryphal nailing of his ninety-​five theses to the church door
in Wittenburg, that the first use of reason of state (ragione degli Stati) appears in
Guicciardini’s Del reggimento di Firenze to describe the distinctive expedient meas-
ures (poco cristiana e poco umana) that may be validly and prudently relied upon
to preserve a political regime against its enemies; Machiavelli’s The Prince was of
course already in circulation, with its advice to Princes on the arts and techniques
by which they can maintain their stato.68 Political order was no longer—​as it so
clearly was in Dante’s De Monarchia—​a partial expression of an eternal order of
being, an ordinatio ad unum with a common presupposition of faith and authority.
Various attempts to revive the ideal of universal monarchy as an actually-​existing

63  See e.g. John of Salisbury, John of Salisbury: Policraticus, ed. Cary J. Nederman (1990).
64 See Daniel Lee, ‘ “Office Is a Thing Borrowed” Jean Bodin on Offices and Seigneurial
Government’, Political Theory 41(3) (2013), 409–​40.
65  Ronald G. Asch, The Thirty Years War: The Holy Roman Empire and Europe, 1618-​48 (1997), ch. 1.
66  See Stephen Toulmin, Cosmopolis: The Hidden Agenda of Modernity (1992).
67 Maurizio Viroli, From Politics to Reason of State:  The Acquisition and Transformation of the
Language of Politics 1250-​1600 (2005). Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, Vol. 2,
Part II (n. 47).
68  Stato here means the power structure of a political order or a dominant regime. See, Nicolai
Rubinstein, ‘Notes on the Word Stato in Florence before Machiavelli’, in J.G. Rowe and W.H.
Stockdale (eds.), Florilegium Historiale: Essays Presented to Wallace K. Ferguson (1971), pp. 313–​26. See
also the contribution by Roth-​Isigkeit in this volume.
412

412 Nehal Bhuta

unified order of justice and law (such as Botero’s Ragione di Stato or Campanella’s
Aformisi Politici) were short-​lived, declining rapidly after the final defeat of Spanish
ambitions to maintain its rule in the Low Countries in 1609.
The sources of power and authority in a legal-​political order could no longer be
directly extra-​mundane, and certainly not naturally ordered in any ontological way.
Rather, in a discernably modern manner, the foundation of political order becomes
widely theorized as in some manner immanent to the specific human society gen-
erating that order, and equally immanent and this-​worldly are the ultimate ends of
such order: security, civil peace, prosperity.
Paradoxically, the religious and political theory of the Lutheran reformation
would only accelerate this process, transferring to the civil power most of the
prerogatives claimed by the Church in order to advance to ‘destruction of the
Church and its hold on an extraterritorial public opinion’.69 The Church as con-
gregatio fidelium in Lutheran doctrine, was ruled solely by Christ, whose powers
were entirely spiritual. The Godly Prince ruled in order to keep civil peace between
sinful men, and to protect and maintain his subjects in peace and plenty so that
they can achieve the destiny ordained for each of them by God.70 The unity of the
civil order was in this sense perfect, rendering the persona ficta of the Church an
association entirely subordinate to the complete authority of the sovereign power.
In this way,
Luther dealt the civitas dei of the Middle Ages a death blow. He gave to the territorial mag-
nates the last thing they needed to make their power into an autocracy, and to rule out all
effective interference from above … The [protestant] Church helped maintain and vivify
the principle of territorialization as in Protestant countries it was a national organization …
The supremacy of the common law of the land over everyone within its borders, including
the Clergy, triumphed universally with the Reformation … 71
Of course, the exact mechanism of the immanent generation of order varied
widely across streams of political thought, and in its most sophisticated forms
(such as the mid-​sixteenth century Dominican and Jesuit thought), the founda-
tion of civil order began in a theory of human agency that took divinely-​given
natural law and legalistically conceived natural right, as the modular build-
ing blocks for the awesome edifice of sovereign power.72 But the relationship
between the order of nature and natural law, and the political and legal order of
the human civitas, could no longer be the hierarchical one conceived of by high
medieval Thomism; consistent with the dissolution of a strong and substantive
homology of order between the divine, natural and human, the function of
nature and natural law as a warrant for the authority of civil order becomes a

69 Figgis, Political Thought, p. 45 (n. 46). Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, Vol 2,
pp. 14–​19 (n. 47).
70 Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, pp. 14–​15 (n. 47).
71 Figgis, Political Thought, pp. 49–​50 (n. 46).
72 Brett, Changes of State, p. 62 (n. 33): ‘The construction of human beings as free coincides with the
construction of the subject of law. Government by law works by commanding choice, and it demands
a subject capable of choice.’
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Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 413

problem to be solved rather than a solution to the problem of authority. As Brett
summarizes:
Common to all the different types of what is considered ‘civil philosophy’ in this period …
[is the key question of ] how to construct a unity out of the natural plurality and diversity
of individuals [and protect it from dissolution.] … Nature and natural law, seen as a set of
substantive rules of action which form an unchanging baseline of moral rectitude, generate
precisely the threat to the legal autonomy or integrity of the city that civil philosophy strove
to avoid.73
By the sixteenth century, natural law and natural right were no longer an emana-
tion of divine law but were either established by an act of divine will (the volun-
tarist thesis of natural law as commanded by God but discerned and interpreted
by human reason) or a set of rules immanent in the (divinely created) order of
nature—​including human nature—​to be identified and applied as fundamental
norms of human co-​existence in any kind of society. On either kind of argument,
the state (civitas or societa perfecta) was a more perfect order of human relations
because of its achievement of a supreme unity, enabling it to realize imperative
conditions of human flourishing, such as peace, security and justice under civil
law.74 The unity of religion and religious law in Europe was no longer possible. At
best, after the Peace of Augsburg, religious unity within a territorial entity might
have been achieved by expulsion or massacre of the religious minority, but within a
generation the French Politiques would recognize that even unity in religion could
be sacrificed to preserve the unity of the state.
Jus naturale and jus gentium provided a fertile, even inexhaustible, reservoir of
arguments and authorities for the sixteenth-​century re-​articulation of public power
as constituted through comprehensive unity of a political community, or as in
some way inherent in the very nature of such an order.75 The profoundly legalistic
ethos that was a legacy of both feudalism and the medieval revival of Roman law
as a source of authority, made legal argument indispensable to the justification of
political rule:76 argument from the mere fact of political power or from an abstract
theory of the state was not unknown but nonetheless remained scandalous until
well into the seventeenth century,77 implying as it did a foundation for law and
politics derived exclusively from utilitas and human will. But the concept of public

73  Annabel Brett, ‘Natural Right and Civil Community: The Civil Philosophy of Hugo Grotius’,
The Historical Journal 45(1) (2002), 31–​51.
74  See e.g. Hugo Grotius, Commentary on the Law of Prize and Booty, ed. Martine Julia van Ittersum
(2006), pp. 34–​47. Grotius’s position is very close to Suarez’s, indicating the relative insignificance (by
the end of the sixteenth century at least) of the sectarian identity of the theorist on this matter.
75  Or as Gierke puts it in, Otto Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society 1500-​1800, trans.
Ernest Barker, (1957), p. 35: ‘The Natural Law Theory of the State … served as a pioneer in prepar-
ing the transformation of human life. It forged intellectual arms for the struggle of new social forces;
it disseminated ideas which, long before they even approached realization, found admittance into the
thought of influential circles and became, in that way, the objects of practical effect.’
76 Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society, p. 36 (n 75); Figgis, Political Thought, pp. 99–​100
(n. 46).
77  See e.g. the reception of Hobbes: Jon Parkin, Taming the Leviathan: The Reception of the Political
and Religious Ideas of Thomas Hobbes in England 1640-​1700 (2007).
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414 Nehal Bhuta

power which we still readily associate with the modern state—​a reservoir of public
right which is indivisible and supreme in relation to any other kind of right and
unified in one person or organ—​78 rests upon the transformation of ideas of private
(or individual) legal right into means of generating an abstract and homogeneous
ideal of public power. Distinctive to this post-​medieval conception of public power
was its quality as comprehensive and plenary. In contrast to the medieval notion
of sovereignty as a priority of right or power of final decision in respect of a specific
relationship,79 the early modern concept of sovereignty came to ‘denote the rela-
tionship of the state to everything within itself … From the quality of being simply
the highest authority, there is deduced the whole of that absolute omnipotence
which the modern state demands for itself.’80
But neither theology nor historical lineage could provide adequate warrant for
such an awesome power over men and things, for this conception of public power
insisted that all other corpora and collegia (the Church, the estates) derived their
existence and legal rights only mediately from the public power of the state, the
only true societas perfecta.81 Both this theory of the state, and its actualization,
implied an epoch-​making destruction and reabsorption of feudal right, urban lib-
erties, and ständisch privilege. The natural individual, outside civil society and the
commonwealth, has by virtue of natural law the right of disposition over his own
will (‘equivalent to ownership over property’)82 and can establish authority over
himself and others through pacts creating a unified and permanent body that wields
summum potestas.
Political authority was the product of a fusion of so many individual authorities, whether
total or limited on certain points. Community was an aggregate, a mere union of the wills
and powers …
… The only legal method of bringing community into existence was the free act of indi-
vidual wills.83
The abstract, purified natural individual—​acting in order to defend and expand
essential common objects such as peace, security and the possibility of mundane
justice—​unites his will with others through a contract which establishes a common
power authorized to suborn the will of any individual member in pursuit of the
purposes for which the commonwealth was formed. Depending on the theorist,

78  Dieter Grimm, Sovereignty: The Origin and Future of a Political and Legal Concept (2015), p. 32.
79 Grimm, Sovereignty, pp. 14, 17 (n. 78).
80 Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society, p. 41 (n. 75).
81 Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society, p. 69 (n. 75). Althusius’s account is of course a con-
temporary counterpoint to this tendency, but it assumes the organic and durable unity of associations
that come together to form consociations of associations at a larger scale. As such, it is indebted to a
certain spirit of the medieval world. See Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society, pp. 51–​2 (n. 75),
complaining that Althusius was never able to make a ‘personified popular community into a real state
personality which served as the active effective bearer of the will of the Commonwealth’.
82 Grotius, Commentary on the Law of Prize and Booty, p. 34 (n. 74), citing Vázquez, although
this understanding of dominium over will as the basis of human agency and subjective right is widely
argued in different ways from 1500. See Brett, ‘Natural Right and Civil Community’, chs. 3–​4 (n. 73).
83 Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society, pp. 106–​7 (n. 75).
 415

Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 415

the limits of the state’s power would be found either in the specific contracts of
association and rulership establishing sovereign power (Grotius),84 or in the funda-
mental raison d’être of such an association (‘reason of state’) established by natural
law (Pufendorf and Suarez, in different ways),85 or through a final and irrevocable
alienation of any decision over such purposes to the sovereign himself (Hobbes,
Spinoza, Rousseau).86 Irrespective of any particular author’s position within this
topos of argumentation, what can be said to unite modern natural law (and its
derivation, jus gentium)87 is its
close connection to the idea of the state as an exercise of sovereignty … On the one hand,
an important part of the natural law was intended to explain the origin and the existence of
every commonwealth; and on the other hand, sovereignty was regarded as the basic condi-
tion for enforcing natural rules.88
An implication of this skeptical and post-​skeptical argument for the foundations
of political and legal order is an almost anthropological and historicist attitude to
discerning the modalities by which commonwealths can be created, across history
and across civilizations. The attempt to reduce the foundations of human political
communities to the striving to realize the essential objects of human co-​existence
and human well-​being, as well as the effort to assert non-​sectarian origins for bind-
ing legal obligations, generated a relatively thin ontology of stateness. The formal
model of the transfer of authority from individuals in a state of nature to sovereign
power, was not dependent on a prior ratification of the civilizational capacity of
natural man—​all humans presumptively held such a juridical capacity, in as much
as they possessed natural reason, and the important question was whether historical
and contemporary evidence demonstrated the existence of legal and political order
that could be attributed to an underlying pact (and, if one wished to intervene
on behalf of a people against their sovereign, one ought to know the terms of that
pact to ensure that one is acting in support of a bona fide legal right inhering in
the people). It should be observed immediately that this historicist and ontologi-
cally relatively thin understanding of the foundations of state power and sovereign
power, was not per se incompatible with aggressive and ultimately imperial violence

84  See the contribution by Kadelbach in this volume.

85  On Jesuit reason of state thinking see: Harro Hopfl, ‘Orthodoxy and Reason of State’, History of
Political Thought 23(2) (2002), 211–​37. On Pufendorf and Suárez, see the contributions by Fiorillo
and Schaffner in this volume.
86  See the contributions by Heller and Altwicker in this volume.
87  In the classical division between Gaius and Ulpian, jus gentium is understood either as part
of natural law (and thus as part of natural reason), or as a body of human customary law applica-
ble directly between members of different gentes not otherwise governing directly by civil law—​and
thus standing alongside the jus naturale. The division would become highly controversial in Christian
Europe, because of the priority accorded to natural law obligations (emanating from divine law) over
laws originating only in human custom; to the extent that the latter were not derived from or licensed
by natural law, they may be either invalid or subject to non-​enforcement when confronted with a
natural legal obligation.
88  Scattola, ‘Models in the History of Natural Law’, p. 99 (n. 56). See also Chris Thornhill, ‘Natural
Law, State Formation and the Foundations of Social Theory’, Journal of Classical Sociology 13(2)
(2013), 197–​221.
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416 Nehal Bhuta

by European states against non-​European states.89 Indeed, the presumption of a

universal juridical legal order derived from jus naturale rules—​rooted as a practical
matter in Roman law—​that could be directly enforced by sovereigns against each
other, or even by individuals in a state of nature (such as the high seas) against
other public powers, licensed much warfare and land appropriation against non-​
European political communities. But what is perhaps noteworthy for our purposes
is that this violence did not require a general claim of civilizational superiority
through which non-​European legal and political orders were disqualified from
being public powers at all.90
The rules of natural law and jus gentium, as applied directly to the common-
wealth acting as an individual vis-​a-​vis other natural or fictive persons in a state
of nature, would thus provide the juridical framework for the regulation of rela-
tions beyond the civitas. In this, as Figgis notes, jus naturae et jus gentium became
simultaneously ‘the foundations of both international law and modern politics’,
and a ‘residuum which the medieval world passed on to its successor’.91 The per-
plexity of this legacy for the modern state concept is that it at once consecrated
and underwrote the idealization and materialization of the state—​with its legal
omnipotence and unity and destruction of all competing universal powers—​even
as it bound the state concept to some substantive purpose: the common good,
peace, security, a legal order of justice. The distinction between utility (utilitas)
and honestum, so essential to the division between the temporal and sacred ends
of human existence in Christian thought, could be maintained only by asserting a
higher unity of humanitas that establishes a natural legal and social bond between
commonwealths—​a societas gentium in which the original unity of the human com-
munity survived in the form of the juridical order of natural law. But the judgment
of utility remained in the hands of each sovereign power, a conclusion driven by the
very theory of natural right that underpinned the argument for the necessity and
rightness of the state. Differentiating between the state as a means to the common
good, and the state as an end in itself, challenged even the casuistic and argumenta-
tive brilliance of Grotius: the good of the individual depends in the last instance on
the prosperity and safety of the common good, private interest must yield to public
interest; and the common good is interpreted as the good of the unit, as determined
by the bearer of sovereign power.92 The substance accorded to purpose of the state
within this state-​concept is ultimately that which conduces to the flourishing of the

89  See Hugo Grotius, The Rights of War and Peace, ed. Richard Tuck (2005); Martti Koskenniemi,
‘Empire and International Law: The Real Spanish Contribution’, University of Toronto Law Journal
61(1) (2011), 1–​36; Martti Koskenniemi, ‘International Law and the Emergence of Mercantile
Capitalism:  Grotius to Smith’, in Pierre-​Marie Dupuy and Vincent Chetail (eds.), The Roots of
International Law /​Les Fondements Du Droit International (2013), pp. 1–​37; Anthony Pagden, The
Burdens of Empire: 1539 to the Present (2015).
90  Jouannet records instances where the concept of ‘civilization’ is doubted as a foundation for the
application of the jus gentium by late seventeenth century writers: Jouannet, The Liberal-​Welfarist Law
of Nations, pp. 88–​9 (n. 35).
91 Figgis, Political Thought, p. 141 (n. 46).
92  See Grotius, Commentary on the Law of Prize and Booty, pp. 34–​41 (n. 74).
 417

Jus Gentium and the Constitution of Public Power 417

state and its population, concretized only in and through the historical develop-
ment of the state, its population and its economy. Over the seventeenth century the
universal principles of jus naturae et jus gentium are invoked increasingly as part
of the science of the state, as rules ordering both relations inter gentes and prescrib-
ing modes of governing populations and territories as gutepolizei.93 In its internal
dimension, the law of nations and of nature becomes an instrument of state-​and
nation-​building, licensing the further intensification and concentration of state
power for the purposes of creating and maintaining a legal, political, and economic
order that enhances the welfare of the prince, territory and people.94

IV. Conclusion

By the time we reach the end of the eighteenth century, we are but a short con-
ceptual distance from the characterization of the modern state as the first and last
ground of political and ethical value, and the understanding of the authority of
the state as unconditional and as a final reservoir for the state’s capacity to create
and preserve legal and political order. The very success of state-​building in Europe
would tend to destroy any possibility of maintaining a distinction between utilitas
and honestum in the idea of the common good to which the concept of the state
was bound. It would also finally banish the residual idea of a universal legal unity of
humanity, and create the conditions for modern nationalism.95 The law of nature
and the law of nations would pass into the external public law of states, in no small
part due to the consolidation of the modern form of state power that early modern
jus naturale had done so much to help construct.

93  See e.g. Keith Tribe, Governing Economy: The Reformation of German Economic Discourse, 1750-​
1840 (1988), chs. 1–​5.
94  See the chapters on Wolff and Vattel in this volume, which discuss the expressly mercantilist
dimensions of their treatises on the law of nations.
95  As Oakeshott points out, it is state-​building that ultimately created the conditions for modern
ideals of nationhood: the prince’s pastoral power authorized deeper administration of social life by
sovereign power, and paved the way for the insinuation of sovereign authority into all aspects of the
bildung of a population. The result was the possibility of generating a ‘sentiment of solidarity’ and the
endowment of ‘some semblance of substantive unity’ among a territorial peoples through the promo-
tion of linguistic, cultural, or religious homogeneity, ‘or, in the parlance of later times, to make them
a “nation” ’. Michael Oakeshott, ‘On the Character of the Modern European State’, in On Human
Conduct (1991), p. 279.
418

20
Spatial Perceptions, Juridical Practices, and
Early International Legal Thought around 1500
From Tordesillas to Saragossa

Thomas Duve

I.  Cartographic and Spatial Revolutions and International

Legal Thought around 1500

In many accounts of the history of international law, European developments

around 1500 are considered pivotal for the formation of international legal thought.
Wilhelm Grewe dates the beginning of the European state system and international
law to 1494 and according to Randall Lesaffer, the years around 1500 brought
about a change in the conceptualization and implementation of war, which in turn
significantly expanded the scope of the legal doctrine. Similarly, editors of this vol-
ume regard Niccolò Machiavelli as one of the first authors to have put forth the
idea, as early as in the first decades of the sixteenth century, that international legal
thought be translated into positive law between European states.1
At the same time, the decades around 1500—​the era of ‘proto’ or early modern
globalization—​also hold particular historical significance for having witnessed the
emergence of the first global cultural and political systems in tandem with, and in

1  Wilhelm G. Grewe, The Epochs of International Law (trans. and rev. by Michael Byers, 2000),
p. 13; Randall Lesaffer, ‘Peace Treaties and the Formation of International Law’, in Bardo Fassbender
and Anne Peters (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law (2012), pp. 71–​94,
at p. 76. On the history of international law around 1500 especially regarding the Iberian empires
see also: Randall Lesaffer, ‘Charles V, Monarchia Universalis and the Law of Nations (1515-​1530)’,
Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis = The Legal History Review 71(1–​2) (2003) 79–​124; Alfred P. Rubin,
‘International Law in the age of Columbus’, Netherlands International Law Review 39 (1992) 5–​35; Jörg
Fisch, Die europäische Expansion und das Völkerrecht. Die Auseinandersetzungen um den Status der über-
seeischen Gebiete vom 15. Jh. bis zur Gegenwart (1984). On the beginnings of what he calls an ‘Indian
system of international law’ for the Americas see Ricardo Zorraquín Becú, ‘El Sistema Internacional
Indiano’, in Ricardo Zorraquín Becú (ed.), Estudios de Historia del Derecho I (1988), pp. 163–​266.
For a perspective which emphasizes the continuity of early modern international legal thought with
medieval tradition see with further references James Muldoon, ‘Rights, Property, and the Creation of
International Law’, in James Muldoon (ed.), Bridging the Medieval-​Modern Divide: Medieval Themes in
the World of the Reformation (2013), pp. 175–​204.

Spatial Perceptions, Juridical Practices and Early International Legal Thought around 1500: From Tordesillas
to Saragossa. Thomas Duve. © Thomas Duve, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
 419

International Legal Thought around 1500 419

response to, the European overseas expansion. Notwithstanding the overwhelm-
ing importance of the reformation movements, wars of succession, and territorial
disputes in constituting European modernity, from a global-​historical perspec-
tive, broader, oceanic categories, such as the ‘Atlantic world’, ‘Atlantic system’, and
‘Atlantic law’, have helped us to better understand the formation of the modern
world. However, the growth of a space that was first an ‘Iberian Atlantic’ was the
result of the search for riches in the Pacific—​a drive that would eventually become
the catalyst for attempts to ‘Europeanize the World’ in east and west. Over the ensu-
ing five centuries, European powers would seek to impose their cultural systems
on non-​Europeans along the shores of both Oceans.2 The colonial structures of
international law dating back to this period have been object of intense discussion
during the last decades.3 At times, these debates unconsciously perpetuated colo-
nial epistemic structures by a historically uninformed postcolonial repetition of the
account of a ‘Northwestern Europeanization’.4
This already indicates that European expeditions into the New World signifi-
cantly impacted not just the non-​European peoples, for their relevance for early-​
modern Europeans was considerable. Historians have shown the extent to which
not only the arts, culture, and the sciences, but also early-​modern state building
mechanisms and foundational doctrines of European legal thought, like ‘sover-
eignty’, were shaped by imperial forays and interactions.5 Important innovations in

2  See on the ‘Atlantic perspective’ Nicholas Canny and Philip Morgan, ‘Introduction: The Making
and Unmaking of an Atlantic World’, in Nicholas Canny and Philip Morgan (eds.), The Oxford
Handbook of the Atlantic World: 1450-​1850 (2011); Joan-​Pau Rubiés, ‘The Worlds of Europeans,
Africans, and Americans, c. 1490’, in Nicholas Canny and Philip Morgan (eds.), The Oxford Handbook
of the Atlantic World: 1450-​1850 (2011); Lauren Benton, ‘Atlantic Law: Transformations of a Regional
Legal Regime’, in Nicholas Canny and Philip Morgan (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Atlantic
World: 1450-​1850 (2011); Stuart B. Schwartz, ‘The Iberian Atlantic to 1650’, in Nicholas Canny and
Philip Morgan (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Atlantic World: 1450-​1850 (2011). For early mod-
ern—​‘first’ or ‘proto’—​globalization see Serge Gruzinski, Les Quatre Parties du monde. Histoire d’une
mondialisation (2004); Serge Gruzinski, The Eagle and the Dragon: Globalization and European Dreams
of Conquest in China and America in the Sixteenth Century (2014); Felipe Fernández-​Armesto, 1492.
The Year Our World Began (2009). On the ‘Europeanization of the world’ see the polemical text of John
M. Headley, The Europeanization of the World: On the Origins of Human Rights and Democracy (2008).
3  See on this Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Vitoria and Us: Thoughts on Critical Histories of International
Law’, Rechtsgeschichte -​Legal History 22 (2014), 119–​138; Bardo Fassbender and Anne Peters,
‘Introduction: Towards A Global History Of International Law’, in Bardo Fassbender and Anne Peters
(eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law (2012), pp. 1–​24; Arnulf Becker Lorca,
‘Eurocentrism in the History of International Law’, in Bardo Fassbender and Anne Peters (eds.), The
Oxford Handbook of the History of International Law (2012), pp. 1034–​57; Antony Anghie, Imperialism,
Sovereignty and the Making of International Law (2005).
4 On the necessity to abandon the narrative of a ‘Northwestern Europeanization’ see Jorge
Cañizares-​Esguerra and Benjamin Breen, ‘Hybrid Atlantics: Future Directions for the History of the
Atlantic World’, History Compass 11(8) (2013), 597–​609.
5  See e.g. from recent literature Arndt Brendecke, Imperium und Empirie: Funktionen des Wissens
in der spanischen Kolonialherrschaft (2009); Harold J. Cook, Matters of Exchange: Commerce, Medicine
and Science in the Age of Empire (2007); Lauren Benton, A Search for Sovereignty: Law and Geography
in European Empires, 1400-​1900 (2010); Helge Wendt and Jürgen Renn, ‘Knowledge and Science in
Current Discussions of Globalization’, in Jürgen Renn (ed.), The Globalization of Knowledge in History
(2012), pp. 45–​72.
420

420 Thomas Duve

what is being called ‘European’ legal thought, like the normative reflection stem-
ming from the School of Salamanca, are unimaginable without imperial encounters
with Non-​Europeans.6
In this context, study of the History of Knowledge has dedicated growing atten-
tion to the stunning advances made in the fields of geography, astronomy, geo-
detic measurement, and cartography especially in sixteenth century. Since Henri
Lefebvre’s seminal La Production de l’espace (1974), which raised the hypothesis that
at the dawn of the sixteenth century a common spatial code had come to serve as
the organizing principle for Western European culture, scholars have begun to dis-
cuss the ‘rationalization of space’ and its implications for global power structures.
Not least ‘America’ was seen as a space which was ‘invented’, produced historically,
through the interaction of culturally contingent expectations and interests with
observed geographical phenomena, embodied in the technique of mapping.7 In a
related move, research on historical cartography identified a ‘cartographic revolu-
tion’ in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, which was intimately connected to
the reception of Ptolemaic Geography in the last decades of the fifteenth century.
The printing press allowed mapmakers to reproduce and distribute their maps in
large numbers, so that by 1500 there were already approximately 60,000 individual
maps in circulation within Europe. By 1600 this number had risen to 1.3 million.8
Scientific communication between experts and exchange of information became
much easier. As a result, the decades around 1500 saw the emergence of what has
been called the ‘first coherent, and rationally cumulative pictures of the world since
antiquity’ and opened a century of radical transformation of our knowledge about
the shape and size of the world.9
Again, European expansion has been decisive for this process. Caravels travelling
across the oceans, loaded with spices, gifts, and prizes, but also with nautical and
astronomical instruments, became the laboratories of the early-​modern ‘cosmogra-
phers’, who embarked on exploratory voyages and collaborated with navigators and
statesmen in the search for seaways, longitudes, and latitudes. Commercial devel-
opment, missionary impetus, and territorial expansion went hand in hand with
creation of scientific knowledge. Around 1500, the Iberian crowns played a key role
in this. As early modern Iberian empires built on this knowledge, an official—​or

6 See for further references Thomas Duve, ‘Von der Europäischen Rechtsgeschichte zu einer
Rechtsgeschichte Europas in globalhistorischer Perspektive’, Rechtsgeschichte -​Legal History 20 (2012),
18–​71; Thomas Duve, ‘Katholisches Kirchenrecht und Moraltheologie im 16. Jahrhundert:  Eine
globale normative Ordnung im Schatten schwacher Staatlichkeit’, in Stefan Kadelbach and Kaus
Günther (eds.), Recht ohne Staat?. Zur Normativität nichtstaatlicher Rechtsetzung (2011), pp. 147–​74.
7  See for further references to O’Gormann, Mignolo and others Ricardo Padrón, The Spacious
Word: Cartography, Literature, and Empire in Early Modern Spain (2004), esp pp. 12ff.
8  Jerry Brotton, A History of the World in Twelve Maps (2012), p. 158.
9  David Woodward, ‘Maps and the Rationalization of Geographic Space’, in Jay A. Levenson (ed.),
Circa 1492: Art in the Age of Exploration (1991), pp. 83–​8, at p. 85. For a broader picture see the contri-
butions in David Woodward (ed.), The History of Cartography. Cartography in the European Renaissance,
vol. 3/​1 (2007); James R. Akerman, ‘Introduction’, in James R. Akerman (ed.), The Imperial Map:
Cartography and the Mastery of Empire (2009), pp. 1–​9; Jerry Brotton, Trading Territories. Mapping the
Early Modern World (1998); Brotton, A History (n. 8).
 421

International Legal Thought around 1500 421

even ‘juridical’—​cartography emerged, a ‘secret science’ that was closely linked to
political and state interests.10
This cumulative knowledge, as some authors emphasize, marked the beginning
of a new form of rationality that would lay the foundations for modernity and pave
the way for imagining physical spaces, new territories, and blank spaces on the
map—​a ‘positive emptiness’.11 For some observers, the resulting ‘rationalization
of space’ is intimately connected with the emergence of what has been termed the
‘cartographic state’. According to them, the ever-​evolving technical knowledge did
not only determine European politics, but helped European powers to deploy an
array of techniques to integrate non-​European territories and peoples into their
empires. Political and legal imperialism, the ‘rise of the West’, became possible due
to technical knowledge. The ‘geometric division of space […] made it possible for
as yet unknown places to be claimed, so long as they fall within the geometric division
proposed by the map’.12
These—​popular, yet not undisputed—​diagnostics find a parallel in a not less
contested, yet also influential account of the history of international law, namely,
Carl Schmitt’s analysis of sixteenth century’s ‘spatial revolution’ and its ‘global linear
thinking’, which he developed in his Nomos of the Earth. Schmitt had anticipated
the notion of rationalization of space as well as its centrality in shaping interna-
tional legal thought as early as 1950, when he described the beginning of what he
calls the Jus publicum Europaeum:
No sooner had the contours of the earth emerged as a real globe—​not just sensed as myth,
but apprehensible as fact and measureable as space—​then there arose a wholly new and
hitherto unimaginable problem: the spatial ordering of the earth in terms of international
law. The new global image, resulting from the circumnavigation of the earth and the great
discoveries of the 15th and 16th centuries, required a new spatial order. Thus began the
epoch of modern international law that lasted until the 20th century.13

10  From the vast bibliography on these issues see María M. Portuondo, Secret Science. Spanish
Cosmography and the New World (2009); David Buisseret (ed.), Monarchs, Ministers, and Maps: The
Emergence of Cartography as a Tool of Government in Early Modern Europe (1992); Padrón, The Spacious
Word (n. 7); Alison Sandman, ‘Spanish Nautical Cartography in the Renaissance’, in David Woodward
(ed.), The History of Cartography: Cartography in the European Renaissance (2007), pp. 1095–​1142;
Antonio Sánchez Martínez, La espada, la cruz y el Padrón (Soberanía, fe y representación cartográfica
en el mundo ibérico bajo la Monarquía Hispánica), 1503-​1598 (2013); Antonio Sánchez Martínez,
‘An Official Image of the World for the Hispanic Monarchy: The Padrón Real of the Casa de la
Contratación in Seville, 1508-​1606’, Nuncius 29 (2014) 389–​438; Antonio T. Reguera Rodríguez, Los
geógrafos del rey, III (2010); Felipe Fernández-​Armesto, ‘Maps and Exploration in the Sixteenth and
Early Seventeenth Centuries’, in David Woodward (ed.), The History of Cartography: Cartography in
the European Renaissance (2007), pp. 738–​70; Richard L. Kagan and Benjamin Schmidt, ‘Maps and
the Early Modern State: Official Cartography’, in David Woodward (ed.), The History of Cartography:
Cartography in the European Renaissance (2007), pp. 661–​79; Ricardo Cerezo Martínez, La cartografía
náutica española en los siglos XIV, XV y XVI (1994).
11 Padrón, The Spacious Word, esp. pp. 35ff. (n. 7).
12  Jordan Branch, The Cartographic State: Maps, Territory and the Origins of Sovereignty (2014),
p. 59. From a legal historical point of view, see the critique of Benton, A Search for Sovereignty, esp.
pp. 10ff. (n. 5).
13  Carl Schmitt, The Nomos of the Earth in the International Law of the Jus Publicum Europaeum,
trans. and introduced by G.L. Ulmen (2003), p. 86.
42

422 Thomas Duve

For Schmitt, who presented his thesis as a legal-​historical piece with a norma-
tive drift in the tradition of German Historical School, a new spatial perception had
allowed Europe to cultivate a functioning system of controlled aggression and violence
in Europe, whose tragic end he mourned in writing the Nomos.
Interestingly, both discourses—​the more recent formulations of ‘cartographic revo-
lution’ and ‘rationalization of space’ as well as Schmitt’s earlier ‘spatial revolution’ and
‘global linear thinking’—​have a common historical reference point. The centrepiece of
the account is twofold: on the one hand, the 1494 Treaty of Tordesillas, drawn between
the two Iberian powers, Castile and Portugal, and on the other, the Bulls issued by
Pope Alexander VI dating back to 1493, which gifted the King of Castile all lands
discovered and yet to be discovered in the New World. And just as Schmitt locates the
beginning of the new ‘global linear thinking’ in the lines of demarcation drawn in the
Papal Bulls and the said Treaty, recent scholarship on the history of international rela-
tions has tended to view Tordesillas as the main impetus for the ‘politicization of the
globe’. The Treaty ‘stands as maybe the first genuine example of how the political boundary
originates in a map or rather, in a carto-​scientific representation of space which, in conse-
quence, plays a performative role in shaping the world ’.14 In a similar vein, for experts in
the history of cartography like Jerry Brotton, Tordesillas is ‘one of the earliest and most
hubristic acts of European global imperial geography […] The world was divided in half by
two European kingdoms, using a map to announce their global ambitions’.15
Even if one considers Schmitt’s historical account in Nomos of the Earth pure
ideology, his ideas have had a significant impact on the classical narrative of the
history of international law in seminal works, such as those of Wilhelm Grewe.
The growing interest in Schmitt’s ideas, especially in Anglo-​American scholarship,
highlights the links between spatial perceptions and the formation of international
legal thought.16 The same applies to the strong statements made on the role the
rationalization of space played in the formation of the international system.17 Is it

14  Jeppe Strandsbjerg, Territory, Globalisation and International Relations: The Cartographic Reality
of Space (2010), p. 94.
15 Brotton, A History, pp. 186–​7 (n. 8).
16  On the influence of Schmitt in Grewe see Bardo Fassbender, ‘Stories of War and Peace On Writing
the History of International Law in the “Third Reich” and After’, European Journal of International Law
13(2) (2002), 479–​512; on the reception of Schmitt’s Nomos in the Anglo-​American world and on the
status of the text as political theology Martti Koskenniemi, ‘International Law as Political Theology:
How to Read Nomos der Erde?’, Constellations 11(4) (2004), 492–​511. For a critical survey see also
the contributions in Stephen Legg (ed.), Spatiality, Sovereignty and Carl Schmitt: Geographies of the
Nomos (2011). For some authors, especially in more popular works, Schmitt has even become the main
reference when dealing with the demarcation line, see e.g. Joyce E. Chaplin, Round about the Earth:
Circumnavigation from Magellan to Orbit (2012), p. 11, n. 11.
17  The question of the links between scientific and practical knowledge about space, the objects in
which this knowledge materialized, and the formation of legal thought is starting to attract growing
attention in general legal historiography as well as in intellectual history. See as a first important con-
tribution from the 1980s Antonio M. Hesphana, ‘El espacio político’, in Antonio M. Hesphana (ed.),
La gracia del derecho. Economía de la cultura en la edad moderna (1993), pp. 85–​122. More recently
Benton, A Search for Sovereignty (n. 5) and the contributions in Rechtsgeschichte –​Legal History 23
(2015), especially Massimo Meccarelli, ‘The Assumed Space: Pre-​reflective Spatiality and Doctrinal
Configurations in Juridical Experience’, Rechtsgeschichte -​Legal History 23 (2015), 241–​52; see also
Massimo Meccarelli and Julia Solla Sastre (eds.), Spatial and Temporal Dimensions for Legal History:
 423

International Legal Thought around 1500 423

true, one wonders, that the ‘spatial revolution’ and the new strain of ‘global linear
thinking’ were responsible for the emergence of the first international legal order
around 1500?
The aim of this chapter, thus, is to take a closer look at notions of the ‘spa-
tial revolution’, ‘global linear thinking’, and ‘cartographic revolution’, as well
as their impact on the emergence of system and order in international legal
thought around 1500. Therefore, I will reconstruct some aspects18 of the prac-
tice of early modern treaty-​making, with special attention to the demarcation
lines drawn between the two Iberian monarchies during the era of Tordesillas,19
starting with the 1479 Treaty of Alcáçovas20 (II.). After this, I will extend the
survey to the Treaty of Saragossa, signed in 1529, often seen as a direct con-
sequence and extension of the Treaty of Tordesillas. Although less famous, it
has been increasingly considered not only as a ‘watershed in the political history

Research Experiences and Itineraries (2016). On the need to integrate History of Science and Intellectual
History see John Tresch, ‘Cosmologies Materialized: History of Science and History of Ideas’, in Darrin
M. McMahon and Samuel Moyn (eds.), Rethinking Modern European Intellectual History (2014), pp.
153–​72. On History of Knowledge and History of Law Jürgen Renn, ‘The Globalization of Knowledge
in History and its Normative Challenges’, Rechtsgeschichte -​Legal History 22 (2014), 52–​60.
18  I will not be able to discuss the complex problem of the juridical status of the territories which
were allocated to the crowns by the demarcation lines. Despite of the many generalizing statements
which indicate the contrary, it should, however, be clear that drawing demarcation lines did in no case
mean granting absolute dominion over these territories; this would be an anachronism for this period,
and an underestimation of the variety of functions the delimitation of spheres of influence could fulfil.
19  There is ‘endless bibliography’ on Tordesillas, as Tamar Herzog, Frontiers of Possesion: Spain and
Portugal in Europe and the Americas (2015) writes in her study before giving a good selection of refer-
ences. From a legal historical perspective, fundamental reference points for any further discussion of
the Papal Bulls and the subsequent Treaties are: Alfonso García-​Gallo, ‘Las bulas de Alejandro VI y el
ordenamiento jurídico de la expansión portuguesa y castellana en África e Indias’, Anuario de Historia
del Derecho Español 27–​28 (1957–​1958), 461–​829; Paulino Castañeda Delgado, La teocracia pontifical
en las controversias sobre el Nuevo Mundo, ed. Instituto de Investigaciones Jurídicas (1996); Antonio
Rumeu de Armas, El Tratado de Tordesillas: Rivalidad hispano-​lusa por el dominio de océanos y continentes
(1992). Important contributions have been published on the occasion of the anniversary of Tordesillas
in 1994, see especially: Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luís Adão da
Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época: Congreso internacional de historia, 3 vols. (1995);
José Manuel García and Angel Sodano (eds.), O Tratado de Tordesillas e a política papal face à expansão
Iberíca, Comemorações do V Centenário do Tratado de Tordesilhas na Santa Sé (1994); Jesús Varela
Marcos, ‘La cartografía del segundo viaje de Colón y su decisiva influencia en el Tratado de Tordesillas’,
in Jesús Varela Marcos (ed.), El Tratado de Tordesillas en la cartografía histórica (1994), pp. 85–​108. See
also the earlier collections: Seminario de historia de America (ed.), El tratado de Tordesillas y su proyec-
ción: Vol. I, Jornadas Americanistas (1973); Armando Cortesão and Avelino Teixeira da Mota (eds.),
Portugaliae Monumenta Cartographica (1987).
20  The relevant sources for this period are accessible in different collections: Wilhelm G. Grewe,
Fontes Historiae Iuris Gentium: Sources Relating to the History of the Law of Nations, 2 (1988) col-
lects texts taken from different publications. The English translations are taken from Frances Gardiner
Davenport (ed.), European Treaties Bearing on the History of the United States and its Dependencies, Vol. 1
(2012). Some further documents concerning Spain and Portugal are printed in Primitivo Mariño,
Tratados Internacionales de España: Carlos V, Vol. I (1978) and in the collections by Martín Fernández
de Navarette: Colección de documentos inéditos relativos al descubrimiento, […] (1864, reprint 1964);
Martín Fernández de Navarette, Colección de los Viajes y Descubrimientos […] (1825–​1837, reprint
1945).The Papal Bulls are cited after Josef Metzler, America Pontificia: Primi saeculi evangelizationis
1493-​1592, vol. 1-​2, Collectanea Archivi Vaticani 27/​1, 27/​2 (1991).
42

424 Thomas Duve

of early modern Europe’, but as a ‘turning point in the political apprehension of

the importance of geography in defining the contours of the early modern world’21
(III.). In fact, it is only a joint perspective on the Treaties of Tordesillas and of
Saragossa which can show the impressive transformation of spatial perceptions
in the first decades of the sixteenth century. In the thirty-​five years between
these Treaties, new spatial perceptions, generated not least by new media for
visualizing geographic knowledge, had an enormous impact on international
legal thought. Notwithstanding these remarkable developments, the demarca-
tion lines drawn in these years seem less ‘revolutionary’ than when presented by
Schmitt and others (IV.).

II.  From Alcáçovas to Tordesillas

1. Drawing the lines of demarcation from the east to west:

The Treaty of Alcáçovas
The Treaty of Tordesillas must be situated in the fifteenth century context of the
aggressive maritime expansion undertaken by the Iberian powers, in particular, in
reference to the plans initiated by Henry the Navigator, the third son of King John I.22
In light of the fall of Constantinople in 1453 and the threat of the strong position
the Ottoman Empire had consolidated, the Iberian powers became more atten-
tive to the Atlantic, to areas extending far beyond the immediate coastlines of the
Iberian Peninsula. During the course of latter half of the fifteenth century, both
powers sought to expand their reach to the East, in an effort to gain access to the
riches of Asia without crossing the Mediterranean. It was this effort to extend their
reach beyond the border of the Strait of Gibraltar that lends deeper meaning to the
famous motto ‘Plus ultra’.23
The several conflicts that ensued between Spain and Portugal—​in the 1470s,
before and after Isabella and Ferdinand had ascended the throne in 1474—​were

21 Brotton, Trading Territories, p. 150 (n. 9).

22  See for general introductions into this historical period, especially regarding the Iberian powers
the bibliography in n. 2 as well as John Huxtable Elliot, Empires of the Atlantic World: Britain and Spain
in America, 1492–​1830 (2006); A.R. Disney, A History of Portugal and the Portuguese Empire, Volumen
2 The Portuguese Empire, 2 vols. (2009); Giuseppe Marcocci, L’invenzione di un impero:  Politica e
cultura nel mondo portoghese (1450-​1600) (2011); Hugh Thomas, Rivers of Gold: The Rise of the Spanish
Empire (2010); Ana María Carabias Torres (ed.), Las relaciones entre Portugal y Castilla, en la época de
los descubrimientos y la expansión colonial, ponencias presentadas al congreso Hispano-​Portugués celeb-
rado en Salamanca, 1992, Acta salmanticensia, Estudios históricos y geográficos (1994); for a specific
account of the European explorations and their context see Felipe Fernández-​Armesto, ‘Exploration
and Navigation’, in Hamish Scott (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Early Modern European History, 1350-​
1750: Volume II: Cultures and Power (2015), pp. 173–​99.
23  See on this Ricardo Padrón, ‘Mapping Plus Ultra: Cartography, Space, and Hispanic Modernity’,
Representations 79 (2002), 28–60; Antonio Sánchez Martínez, ‘Los Artífices del Plus Ultra: Pilotos,
Carógrafos y Cosmógrafos en la casa de la contratación de Sevilla durante el siglo XVI’, Hispania 236
(2010), 607–​32.
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International Legal Thought around 1500 425

resolved through the Treaty of Alcáçovas, which was signed on 4 September 1479,
and ratified by the Catholic monarchs in Toledo in 1480.24 In the Treaty, the
parties agreed to draw a line of demarcation at the Canary Islands and to grant
all land south of it to Portugal. In compensation, Portugal agreed to recognize
the Castilian dominion over the Canaries and the legitimacy of the Catholic
monarch’s succession to the throne. With that, both parties had in effect con-
firmed previous acquisitions based on traditional rationales for acquiring titles of
dominion, like discovery and appropriation, contingency to one’s own territory,
or missionizing in territories under Muslim dominion. Following the medieval
practice, the parties sought Papal confirmation for their agreement, which was
granted through Aeterni Regis, a Papal Bull issued by Sixtus IV on 21 June 1481.
Aeterni Regis represented the culmination of the first phase of European Atlantic
expansion based on the theocratic doctrine that bore the seal of Papal approval
through Papal Bulls.25
Notably, the Treaty and its subsequent ratification introduced a practice of
drawing a line dividing the waters, in this case, from east to west, in order to con-
firm the rights over already existing possessions, and to demarcate the spheres
of influence and rights of free navigation and possessions for future discoveries.
The imaginary line would run through the Canary Islands and separate spheres
which were basically well known. The maps used for navigating close to the
coastline were already relatively reliable, and the Portolan charts contained the
information needed for making a precise determination of the vessel’s position
in relation to the Canary Islands. The demarcation line was a line of latitude,
which was easy to measure even in those days. Given that several expeditions had
already pushed south during the days of Henry the Navigator, and had reached
the Senegalese coast in the 1460s, considerable knowledge had already been
accumulated on areas to the south of the line. Although the Cape of Good Hope
was first rounded in 1488 by Bartolomeu Dias, mid-​fifteenth-​century maps, for
instance, the famous map of Fra Mauro, reveal that a general idea of the African
continent and its coastline already prevailed.26 Thus, in Alcáçovas a demarcation
line was drawn using established techniques that followed the portolan logic,
which involved conceiving and organizing space on the sea between coastlines
and known islands.

24  See for a general description Alberto de la Hera Pérez-​Cuesta, ‘La primera división del océano
entre Portugal y Castilla’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luís Adão da
Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 1051–​70; Rumeu de Armas, El Tratado
de Tordesillas, pp. 61ff. (n. 19); Sánchez Martínez, La Espada (n. 10). The text of the Treaty in Grewe,
Fontes Historiae Iuris Gentium, I, 683–​90 = D XIII, 3b (n. 20).
25  See for the text Grewe, Fontes Historiae Iuris Gentium, I, 649–​53 = D XI 4f. (n. 20); on this Hera
Pérez-​Cuesta, ‘La primera división’, pp. 1051–​70 (n. 24).
26  See on this Inácio Guerreiro, ‘Ciencia e cartografia: a imagem do mundo físico em Portugal em
finais do séc. XV’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luís Adão da Fonseca
(eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 943–​58.
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426 Thomas Duve

2. The demarcation line from pole to pole: the Bulls of Pope

Alexander VI
The discovery of the first Caribbean islands during the voyages of Christopher
Columbus and the measures taken by the Catholic kings in response dramatically
changed the situation.
In their attempt to secure exclusive rights over the new territories once Columbus
returned in March 1493, the Catholic monarchs enlisted the support of Pope
Alexander VI. Within a few months, the Pope issued a total of five Bulls that granted
the Spaniards a series of rights over the Indies (the so-​called Bulas Alejandrinas).
Inter Cetera, the first bull dated 3 May 1493, granted them the islands and lands
discovered and to be discovered, sailing westward towards the Indies.27 A second
bull, dated 4 May 1493, which was almost a verbatim copy and also called Inter
Cetera, established a demarcation line that extended 100 leagues to the west of the
Azores and the Cape Verde islands in the north-​south direction.28 This granted the
Catholic monarchs ownership over all lands discovered and yet to be discovered, as
well as monopoly over navigation, in the Atlantic to the west of the demarcation
line, while awarding the Portuguese dominion over the sea to the east of the line,
right up to the African coast, except over the Canary Islands. As for territories that
had been discovered, the third Papal Bull, Eximiae devotionis, dated 3 May 1493,
granted the Catholic monarchs the same privileges as those accorded to Portugal.29
Piis Fidelium of 25 June 1493, recognized the right of the Spanish crown to have a
stake in the evangelization of the ‘heathens’ in the newly discovered territories, for
which purpose extraordinary powers were granted to the missionaries30. Dudum
siquidem, issued on 26 September 1493, granted the monarchs of Castile lands dis-
covered by them to the east, south, and west of India that were not under the actual
temporal dominion of another Christian ruler.31
The historical circumstances, under which these Bulls were issued, as well as
their juridical interpretation, are highly contested and cannot be fully explicated
here.32 The Spanish legal historian, Alfonso García Gallo, convincingly argued in
1957–​1958 that the five Bulls, modelled on previous concessions granted to the
Portuguese kings (Romanus Pontifex, 1455; Inter caetera, 1456; Aeterni Regis, 1481),
were intended to grant sovereignty over territories yet to be discovered as well as over
lands already discovered, and established a monopoly over navigation, trade, and
future discovery that excluded the participation of nations other than the Iberian
powers. In this respect, the Bulls signified a clear shift from previous concessions
given to the Portuguese some decades ago. Whereas Romanus Pontifex (1455) of

27 Metzler, America Pontificia, I, n. 1, pp. 71–​5 (n. 20).

28 Metzler, America Pontificia, I, n. 3, pp. 79–​83 (n. 20).
29 Metzler, America Pontificia, I, n. 2, pp. 76–​8 (n. 20).
30 Metzler, America Pontificia, I, n. 4, pp. 83–​6 (n. 20).
31 Metzler, America Pontificia, I, n. 5, pp. 87–​9 (n. 20).
32  On the Papal Bulls see fundamental García-​Gallo, ‘Las bulas’, pp. 461–​829 (n. 19); for a sum-
mary of the discussion Castañeda Delgado, La teocracia, pp.  321ff. (n. 19); Rumeu de Armas, El
Tratado de Tordesillas, pp. 115ff. (n. 19).
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International Legal Thought around 1500 427

Nicolaus V had granted nearly exclusive rights to the Portuguese to navigate usque
ad Indos, this was no longer the case. Now, the Atlantic had to be divided between
the two Iberian powers. Moreover, Dudum siquidem granted Castile wide-​ranging
rights over the whole Indies. Power relations between the two crowns seemed to
have been turned around. But the way the Pope acted was quite traditional.
Can the same be said of the way the demarcation lines were drawn? Looking more
closely at the way the line was determined suggests that the modus operandi was not so
different from what had been done before either. There are a lot of clues that practical
observations of the explorers, and not the precise measurement of longitude, an impos-
sible task then, nor an imaginary line through unknown spaces, formed the basis for
drawing the demarcation line.33
The first evidence stems from legal documents issued to Columbus, dated 28
May 1493, in which the Catholic kings confirm the Capitulaciones de Santa Fé of
17 April 1492 and accord Columbus the title of Almyrante, of the Ocean, ‘which
belongs to us and which starts at a line which we have ordered to be drawn and which
runs from the islands of the Azores to the Cape Verde islands, from North to South, from
Pole to Pole; so that everything which is beyond this line towards the Occident, is ours
and belongs to us.’34 Although the text is said to be a transcription of the earlier title
from 1492, the reference to a ‘line which we have ordered to be drawn’ was not a part
of the original document, suggesting that the line drawn in the Papal Bulls had
been based on the recommendations of the monarchs after Columbus return.35 In
addition, it is possible to conclude that it was the same Columbus who may have
advised the monarchs to insert the line between the poles into the Papal Bulls.36
In a later letter to Columbus, dated 3 September 1493, the Catholic kings refer to
‘the line that you said should be part of the Papal bull ’.37 This is in accordance with
the fact that the distance of 100 leagues had appeared in Columbus’ observation
of an important change in navigational conditions at that height in relation to the
magnetic declination,38 which suggested the possibility of a precise determination

33 On the method employed by Columbus and his geographical knowledge see G.E. Nunn,
Geographical Conceptions of Columbus: A Critical Consideration of Four Problems (1924), esp. pp. 13ff.
34  Confirmación del título dado á Cristóbal Colón […], in Martín Fernandez de Navarrete, Colección
de los viages y descubrimientos que hicieron por mar los Españoles […], vol. II (1945), n. 41, pp. 73–​9, at
p. 77: ‘[…] del dicho mar Océano, que es nuestro, que comienza por una raya ó linea que Nos habemos
fecho marcar que pasa dedsde las isalas de los Azores […]’. The Capitulaciones are transcribed in Martín
Fernandez de Navarrete, Colección de los viages, vol. II (1945), pp. 18–​21.
35  See on this Ricardo Cerezo Martínez, ‘El meridiano y el antimeridiano de Tordesillas en la geo-
grafía, la náutica y la cartografía’, Revista de Indias 54 (1994), 509–​42; Castañeda Delgado, La teocracia,
pp. 349ff. (n. 19).
36  See on this already H. Vander Linden, ‘Alexander VI. and the Demarcation of the Maritime and
Colonial Domains of Spain and Portugal, 1493-​1494’, The American Historical Review 22 (1916),
1–​20, with references to earlier discussions.
37  Carta mensager de los Reyes […], in Fernandez de Navarrete, Colección de los viages, vol. II, n. 71,
pp. 131–​3, at p. 132 (n. 34): ‘[…] abajo fasta la raya que vos dijistes que debia venir en la Bula del
Papa […]’.
38  At least this can be read in his report on the third voyage, referring to an experience he had had pre-
viously. See on this Martín Fernandez de Navarrete, Colección de los Viages y Descubrimientos […], vol. I
(1945), p. 371. See on this point Varela Marcos, ‘La cartografía’, pp. 85–​108 (n. 19) based on citations
from the Libro Copiador, Antonio Rumeu de Armas, Libro copiador de Cristóbal Colón: correspondencia
428

428 Thomas Duve

of the longitude through magnetic measurement. Taking these pieces together,

and notwithstanding the fact that Columbus’ obviously had studied Ptolemy,39
the line drawn in Tordesillas was to an important extent based on observations
made by Columbus at sea. The line indicated in the Papal Bulls blended the astro-
nomical and geodesic knowledge that Columbus and others had acquired with
observations during their voyages. Even as it followed established patterns of fix-
ing spheres of influence, there was a 90° shift from the line drawn in the Treaty of
Alcáçovas. However, as a line measured from a fixed reference point, like islands, it
still responded to a cognitive pattern rooted in contemporary cartography which
organized space measured as distance on sea.

3. Negotiating the line drawn in the Papal Bulls: The Treaty of

Tordesillas
In light of the new developments, King John II of Portugal was convinced that
the Treaty of Alcáçovas had been breached. He sought direct negotiations with the
Catholic monarchs for a new agreement. The negotiations that eventually led to the
Treaties of Tordesillas had begun.
The interests of both sides were clear. The Portuguese king had reasons to be wary
due to a tense relationship with the pope and also due to the close ties between the
Catholic monarchs and Pope Alexander VI, who was heavily indebted to them
and relied on their protection to realize his own political goals in the kingdom of
Naples. Portugal, on the other hand, was responsible for securing the seaway to
the East, via the African coastline, which was important as the Catholic monarchs
had left no doubt about their plans to expand to the Atlantic along a route that
would lead them to India. On 26 September 1493, only a few months after having
returned to Europe, Columbus set off on a new expedition, with a fleet of seventeen
ships and the order of the Catholic kings to send back a map as soon as possible.
Castile was in a better position now than it ever had been before, for Castilians
believed they had found a way to Asia without having to cross the line drawn in
the Treaty of Alcáçovas, and the terms of Dudum siquidem clearly favoured them as
well. Notwithstanding this, they also feared a new military conflict with Portugal.
Although they had just signed the Treaty of Barcelona with France (1493), the situ-
ation in the north and along the coastlines remained unstable, and a loss of influ-
ence in Naples as well as the threat of Turkish expeditions from the Mediterranean

inédita con los Reyes Católicos sobre los viajes a América (1989). The authenticity of these documents is
still contested, see Fernández-​Armesto, ‘Maps and Exploration’, pp. 738–​70, at p. 748 (n. 10).
39  On Columbus’ reading of Ptolemy see Carmen Manso Porto, ‘Cristóbal Colón y el incunable de
la cosmografía de Ptolomeo de la Real Academia de Historia’, in Jesús Varela Marcos (ed.), Cristóbal
Colón, su tiempo y sus reflejos: ‘Actas del Congreso Internacional V Centenario de la muerte del Almirante’,
celebrado en Valladolid, del 15 al 19 de mayo de 2006, Vol. II (2006), pp. 369–​81. On the reception
of Ptolemy more generally see Patrick Gautier Dalché, ‘The Reception of Ptolemy’s Geography (End
of the Fourteenth to Beginning of the Sixteenth Century)’, in David Woodward (ed.), The History
of Cartography:  Cartography in the European Renaissance (2007), pp. 285–​364; Brotton, A History,
pp. 162ff. (n. 8).
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International Legal Thought around 1500 429

could not be easily averted. They agreed to new diplomatic talks between envoys
and ambassadors for which purpose a technical committee would accompany them.
Contacts established during the last months of 1493 paved the way for a new round
of negotiations at Medina de Campo in March, which continued until 8 May 1494,
when they moved to Tordesillas. Negotiations also referenced the new cartographic
material that Columbus had sent to the Catholic kings from his second voyage.40
The Portuguese, on the other hand, referred to a map drawn by Pêro da Covilhã,
which was based on Ptolemaic calculations, and the famous map of Fra Mauro.
On 7 June 1494, two treaties were signed in Tordesillas—​one is the famous
Treaty of Tordesillas,41 under which the parties agreed to establish a demarcation
line in the Atlantic that modified the previous lines established in earlier treaties,
such as the Treaty of Alcáçovas (1479) and in several Papal Bulls previously issued
to the Portuguese kings and the Spanish monarchs in 1493. The demarcation line
was defined as a ‘[…] boundary or straight line […] drawn north and south,
from pole to pole, on the said ocean from the Arctic to the Antarctic pole’.42 The
agreement stipulated that this line be drawn ‘straight, as aforesaid, at a distance of
three hundred and seventy leagues west of the Cape Verde Islands, being calculated
by degrees, or by any other manner as may be considered the best and readiest
[…]’. All lands already discovered ‘or to be found and discovered hereafter’ should
‘belong’ to the respective kings. Hence, all islands and lands to be discovered to the
west of the aforementioned line would belong to the Spanish crown and those to
the east to the Portuguese crown. In the end, the Treaty had essentially moved the
line 270 leagues west of the position specified in the earlier Papal Bulls. The new
line was measured from one fixed point (not two, as in the Papal Bulls) and ran
straight from north to south.
Speculating about the reasons for this shift,43 some argue that Castile hoped to
gain in the Pacific what it had lost in the Atlantic.44 This, however, is quite improb-
able, as we will see later. Others simply interpret it as an agreement that served to
maintain peace in the Iberian Peninsula. Scholars also discuss the Treaty’s impact
on the Papal Bulls and the respective parties, especially whether the two crowns had
actually requested the Bulls at a prior date.45 However, juridical concerns seemed

40  Varela Marcos, ‘La cartografía’, pp. 85–​108 (n. 19); Cerezo Martínez, ‘El meridiano’, pp. 509–​42
(n. 35); Sánchez Martínez, La espada, pp. 97ff. (n. 10).
41  The Treaty was accompanied by a lesser-​known second document, signed and ratified on the
same dates and at the same places, sometimes referred to as ‘(Second) Treaty of Tordesillas’. The purpose
of this agreement was to clarify the limits of the Portuguese and Spanish territories of the African coast.
See on this Rumeu de Armas, El Tratado de Tordesillas, pp. 99ff. (n. 19).
42 Grewe, Fontes Historiae Iuris Gentium, II, 110–​116 = n. 11 (n. 20).
43  Marta Milagros del Vas Mingo, ‘Las bulas alejandrinas y la fijación de los límites a la navegación
en el Atlántico’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luís Adão da Fonseca
(eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 1071–​90.
44  See e.g. Christoph Auffarth, ‘Neue Welt und Neue Zeit -​Weltkarten und Säkularisierung in der
Frühen Neuzeit’, in Dürr Renate (ed.), Expansionen in der Frühen Neuzeit (2005), pp. 43–​68, at p. 56.
45  Castañeda Delgado, La teocracia (n. 19); Pedro Borges Morán, ‘La anómala ratificación pon-
tificia del Tratado de Tordesillas (1494-​1506)’, in Jesús María Usunáriz Garayoa (ed.), Historia y
Humanismo: Estudios en honor del profesor Dr. D. Valentín Vázquez de Prada (2000), pp. 317–​29.
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430 Thomas Duve

not to worry the kings too much, as they let more than ten years go by, until 24
January 1506, when Pope Julius II issued Ea Quae to confirm the agreement at the
request of the Portuguese king.46

4. Fixing the demarcation line: a voyage that never happened

Still, one important practical problem needed to be solved.47 As there was no com-
mon standard for measuring longitude,48 the Treaty foresaw a particular mechanism
to agree on how to mark and honour this line. The parties agreed that the line would
be established more accurately within a period not exceeding ten months from the
date of the signing of the Treaty. The plan was to send out one or two caravels with
pilots, astronomers, and sailors, who would swap ships with those of the other
kingdom. The caravels would meet at Gran Canaria, where they would set sail for
the Cape Verde islands and continue their joint voyage up to the 370-​league limit,
so that they may jointly study and examine to better advantage the sea, courses, winds, and
the degrees of the sun or of north latitude, and lay out the leagues aforesaid, in order that, in
determining the line and boundary, all sent and empowered by both the said parties in the
said vessels, shall jointly concur.
Once it was reached, such a ‘point will constitute the place and mark for measuring
degrees of the sun or of north latitude either by daily runs measured in leagues, or
in any other manner that shall mutually be deemed better’. As it was impossible to
mark this point on open sea, the parties had to find a way to establish and safeguard
it. They might have hoped to find an island close to this point. If not, the line had
at least to be clearly indicated in their maps:
And when this line has been determined as above said, those sent by each of the aforesaid
parties […] shall draw up a writing concerning it and affix thereto their signatures. And
when determined by the mutual consent of all of them, this line shall be considered a per-
petual mark and bound, in such wise that the said parties, or either of them, or their future
successors, shall be unable to deny it, or erase or remove it, at any time or in any manner
whatsoever.49
In summary, the Treaty did not simply use the Ptolemaic grid and partitioned the
world into two in order to establish the new demarcation line. On the contrary,
the new line constituted a shift with respect to the conceptualization of the lines

46 Metzler, America Pontificia, I, n. 10, pp. 100–​2 (n. 20).

47  See on the following Luis Mendonça de Albuquerque, ‘O Tratado de Tordesilhas e as dificultades
tecnicas da sua aplicação rigorosa’, in Seminario de Historia de América (ed.), El Tratado de Tordesillas
y su Proyección: Segundas Jornadas Americanistas: Primer Coloquio Luso-​Español de Historia Ultramarina
(1973), pp. 119–​36; Cerezo Martínez, ‘El meridiano’, pp. 509–​42, at pp. 523ff. (n. 35).
48  Mariano Esteban Piñeiro, ‘Elio Antonio Nebrija y la búsqueda de patrones universales de medi-
das’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luis Adão da Fonseca (eds.), El
tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 569–​82; Ana María Carabias Torres, ‘La medida del espacio
en el Renacimiento: La aportación de la Universidad de Salamanca’, Cuadernos de historia de España
76 (2000), 185–​202.
49 Grewe, Fontes Historiae Iuris Gentium, II, 110–​16, n. 10, quote at 113 (n. 20).
 431

International Legal Thought around 1500 431

previously established. Now, it ran in lesser known parts of the sea, so that its con-
crete position needed to be empirically verified, ‘measured in leagues, or in any
other manner that shall mutually be deemed better’. In addition to this, both sides
assumed that the circumference of the world was much smaller than it effectively
was, and no one imagined at this moment that the line drawn would divide a whole
continent in two.

III.  From Tordesillas to Saragossa

1. The line drawn in Tordesillas and the dominion over the

Moluccas
The joint voyage foreseen in the Treaty of Tordesillas never took place. No map as
stipulated in the Treaty was produced. This is a revealing fact. Despite growing ten-
sion due to some minor conflicts, during the first years after Tordesillas, there was
no immediate need for clarification of the exact position of the line drawn.
The situation clearly changed at the beginning of sixteenth century, not least
through the discovery of Brazil in 1500. The reason, however, that drew the par-
ties back to the negotiation table was not the need to further define the line in the
Atlantic, but, rather, to discuss the vexing issue of dominion over the Moluccas, mod-
ern-​day Malaysia. The desire to gain access to the treasures these legendary Islands
in the Pacific harboured had once been the driving force for Columbus’ voyages and
inspired most of the explorations undertaken in the first decades of sixteenth cen-
tury. The intense activities of both powers in this Pacific area led to a series of diplo-
matic conflicts that were resolved through the Treaty of Saragossa in 1529. The Treaty
established a demarcation line in the Pacific, running between the poles from north
to south that would separate their respective spheres of influence and give exclusive
rights over territories already under their dominion, or those yet to be discovered.50
As recently with this demarcation line, the line drawn in Tordesillas was completed,
for some authors the Treaty of Saragossa was of an unprecedented significance. For
the western European empires of first Portugal and Castile, then Holland and England,
the act of drawing a line, first on a map, then on a terrestrial globe, and laying claim to
places that their putative imperial lords never visited, set a precedent that would be followed
through the centuries, and shape so much European colonial policy across the globe over
the subsequent 500 years.51
In the context of negotiating the demarcation line, as well as in diplomatic exchanges
preceding the Treaty of Saragossa, at least since the second decade of sixteenth

50  See on this Treaty the overview in Leoncio Cabrero, ‘El empeño de las Molucas y los tratados
de Zaragoza: cambios, modificaciones y coincidencias entre el no ratificado y el ratificado’, in Luis
Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luís Adão da Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de
Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 1091–​132. The text in Grewe, Fontes Historiae Iuris Gentium, II,
117–​34, n. 12 (n. 20).
51 Brotton, A History, p. 217 (n. 8).
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432 Thomas Duve

century, both sides seemed to have taken it for granted that the Moluccas would
belong to the crown that could prove that the Islands lay within ‘its’ demarcation
line, and that this line was related to the line drawn in Tordesillas. This is somewhat
astonishing, as the Treaty of Tordesillas ‘said nothing about where that line, or “half-​
meridian”, would fall if it were extended into a full meridian, a circle encompassing
the whole globe by way of the two poles’.52 Although many scholars have proclaimed
that in Tordesillas the world was partitioned in two,53 geographical knowledge in
1494 ‘could literally not encompass the entire globe as, prior to the Portuguese voyages,
nothing was known with any degree of accuracy of the geographical coordinates of the
Indian ocean’.54 Neither had the Castilian king’s cosmographer Jaime Ferrer, in
charge of working out the details for the crown, mentioned a line in the Pacific. He
had sent a ‘forma mundi’ to the Catholic kings, which showed, as he writes, ‘the two
hemispheres: … our Arctic and the opposite Antarctic’, which clearly indicates that he
had only the Atlantic in mind.55 In the same vein, the confirmation of the Treaty
of Tordesillas issued by Pope Julius II in his bull Ea Quae of 1506 only speaks of
one singular ocean: per dictum mare navigare et insulas novas perquirere et capere.56
So why did the parties assume—​from a certain moment at the beginning of
sixteenth century—​that a demarcation line in the Pacific already existed? Why did
they accept that the line drawn in Tordesillas had an effect on the Pacific, if in
Tordesillas there was no reference to the antemeridian or the Pacific whatsoever?
The only explanation to these questions which, as far as I can see, has never been
raised, is that at some moment in time, surely after signing the Treaty of Tordesillas
and before the signing of the Treaty of Saragossa, something happened which con-
vinced all interested parties that the line established in Tordesillas was meant to be
extended to the other hemisphere and form a circle with the meridian. But what
was it that had happened?

2. Uniting kingdoms, exploring the globe

A brief look at the historical context of these negotiations may be necessary to answer
this question. In the thirty-​five years between the signing of the Treaty of Tordesillas
and the Treaty of Saragossa, Europe experienced the Reformation movements and a

52  Ricardo Padrón, ‘A Sea of Denial:  The Early Modern Spanish Invention of the Pacific Rim’,
Hispanic Review (2009), pp. 1–​27, at p. 11.
53  Even experts like Brotton, A History, p. 187 (n. 8).
54 Brotton, Trading Territories, p. 120 (n. 9). See also Rumeau de Armas, El Tratado de Tordesillas,
pp. 207ff. (n. 19).
55  Cerezo Martínez, ‘El meridiano’, pp. 509–​42, at pp. 523ff. (n. 35). In the same vein Ramón
Ezquerra Abadía, ‘La idea del antimeridiano’, in Avelino Teixeira da Mota (ed.), A viagem de Fernão de
Magalhães e a questão das Molucas: actas do II Colóquio Luso-​Espanhol de História Ultramarina (1975),
pp. 1–​26, at pp. 7–​8, although he points out that there might have been a first ‘allusion at a hypotheti-
cal antimeridian’. For the text see Letra feta als molt Catholichs Reis […], dated 27 January 1495: ‘[…]
y ansi envio con un hombre mio […] una forma mundi en figura extensa en que podran ver los dos
hemisferios: conviene saber, el nuestro Artico y el opósito Antártico […], in Fernandez de Navarrete,
Colección de los viajes, vol. II, n. 68, pp. 119–​28, at p. 120 (n. 34).
56 Metzler, America Pontificia, I, n. 10, pp. 100–​2, at p. 101 (n. 20).
 43

International Legal Thought around 1500 433

media revolution, new power balances, and not least a change of the guard. Charles
I had ascended the throne in 1516 as the King of Aragon and Castile along with his
mother and in 1519, he inherited the Habsburg monarchy. In Portugal, Juan III
succeeded his father Manuel, who had died in 1521. Most importantly for the rela-
tions between the two monarchies, in 1524 the crowns agreed upon the marriage
between Catherine of Castile, the sister of Emperor Charles, and King John III of
Portugal. Two years later, in 1526, Emperor Charles married the Infanta Isabel of
Portugal, the sister of the King John III.
The cross-​marriages carried important consequences for the relations of the two
kingdoms and their overseas policy. After Tordesillas, both crowns had pursued
intense exploratory activities in both directions, to the east and the west. With the
discovery of the seaway around the Cape of Good Hope, the Portuguese crown
attempted to monopolize the spice trade with the Pacific Islands and aggressively
sought to reach the Moluccas. The goal each shared was to annex the so-​called Spice
Islands, with their legendary riches, into proprietary spheres of influence. Their
commercial interest was to experience immense growth during the first decades
of sixteenth century, especially through explorations and discoveries in the West.
Explorers sent out to the West had reached the Brazilian coast in 1500 and estab-
lished settlements in the Indian Ocean. In 1511, the Portuguese explorer, Alonso
de Albuquerque, reached the Moluccas, and later captured the city of Malacca.
Some also headed to China. The first European ambassadors arrived in Canton
in 1517. During the same period, Amerigo Vespucci’s expeditions confirmed that
Columbus’ voyages had led to a whole new continent lying between Europe and
the East Indies, and not to India. In 1513, Vasco Nuñez de Balboa crossed the
Isthmus of Panama and reached the Pacific by land. After failed first attempts in
1517, Hernán Cortes in 1519 began the conquista of what would soon be called
New Spain. In 1519, the Portuguese-​born Ferdinand Magellan, now serving the
Castilian crown, embarked on his voyage in search of the westward sea route to
the Pacific. Part of his fleet reached the Moluccas in 1521 and returned to Castile
in 1522, albeit without its commander and led instead by his companion Juan
Sebstián de Elcano. The significance of this voyage has been enormous. ‘If the
Magellan/​Elcano expedition had made the globe into a real object, a global stage on
which humans actually did something, it also made plans for global empire real, more
than metaphors.’57
All this activity was accompanied by the intense efforts of both crowns to aug-
ment their knowledge about the world. In 1505 and 1508, the Castilian king,
Fernando, gathered experts in the Juntas in Toro and Burgos to discuss ways of
finding a new route to the Spice Islands.58 They agreed on creating the new func-
tion of a piloto mayor in the nucleus of what later became the Council of the Indies.
This Casa de Contratación was slated to be that place in the Spanish empire where

57 Chaplin, Round about the Earth, pp. 38–​9 (n. 16). See for the general historical context the bib-
liography cited in (n. 2).
58  See on this Sánchez Martínez, La Espada (n. 10); Ezquerra Abadía, ‘La idea del antimeridiano’,
pp. 1–​26 (n. 55).
43

434 Thomas Duve

cosmographical, nautical, and cartographic knowledge would be centralized. It

hosted the Padrón Real, a map where all available geographical and geodetic infor-
mation was incorporated.59 Similarly, the Portuguese crown had already in 1500
established a Casa da Índia and had made enormous progress in cartography.60
Cartography served the crown’s interests in both Iberian empires, not least when
the quest for the Moluccas intensified.61

3. Cutting the world ‘like an orange’: the antimeridian appears

It may have been due to this interest in and not least the institutionalization of
cosmographical knowledge that the notion of the ‘antimeridian’ appeared on the
stage of history of international law.62 The first clues that the meridian drawn in
Tordesillas was considered to have an effect on the Pacific appear in documents
from the beginning of the second decade of sixteenth century. After receiving the
news of the occupation of Malacca by Albuquerque in 1511, King Fernando sent
out a Spanish expedition under the command of Juan Díaz de Solis. The capitu-
lación given to Solis, dated 27 May 1512, clearly described as a goal of this voy-
age to clarify the demarcation line in the Pacific, and to take possession of what
belonged to the Castilian crown, especially the Moluccas ‘which falls within our
demarcation line’. Solis was also ordered to be careful in drawing adequately and
justly the demarcation line, assumed to fall in the middle of what is today Sri
Lanka, because it was the explicit intention not to violate the agreements with the
Portuguese.63 After his voyage had been suspended, in 1514 Solis was sent again
to make discoveries ‘por las espaldas de Castilla de oro’—​which meant on the other

59  Mariano Cuesta Domingo, ‘Tradición y progreso en la cartografía de la Casa de la Contratación’,

in Mariano Cuesta Domingo and Alfredo Surroca Carrascosa (eds.), Cartografía Hispánica: Imagen
de un Mundo en Crecimiento, 1503-​1810 (2010), pp. 21–​45; Sánchez Martínez, ‘An Official Image’
(n. 10).
60  See Brotton, Trading Territories, pp. 46ff. (n. 9); an overview also in David Turnbull, ‘Cartography
and Science in Early Modern Europe: Mapping the Construction of Knowledge Spaces’, Imago Mundi
48 (1996), 5–​24; Maria F. Alegria, Suzanne Daveau, João Carlos Garcia, Francesc Relaño (eds.),
História da Cartografia Portuguesa, séculos XV a XVII (2012); Cortesão and Teixeira da Mota, Portugaliae
Monumenta Cartographica (n. 19).
61  Antonio Sánchez Martínez, ‘De la ‘cartografía oficial’ a la ‘cartografía jurídica’: la querella de
las Molucas reconsiderada, 1479-​1529’, Nuevo Mundo Mundos Nuevos [En ligne] (2009); Brendecke,
Imperium und Empirie, pp. 109ff. (n. 5); Reguera Rodríguez, Los geógrafos del rey (n. 10).
62  Ana María Barrero García, ‘Las juntas y las conversaciones castellano-​portuguesas en los años
posteriores al Tratado’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luís Adão da
Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 1365–​86; Mariano Cuesta Domingo,
‘La fijación de la línea -​de Tordesillas -​en el Extremo Oriente’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo
Carrasco Martínez, and Luis Adão da Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp.
1483–​1518; María Lourdes Díaz-​Trechuelo López Spínola, ‘Consecuencias y problemas derivados
del Tratado de Tordesillas en la expansión oriental’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco
Martíne, and Luís Adão da Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 519–​40;
Cerezo Martínez, ‘El meridiano’, pp. 509–​42 (n. 35); Ezquerra Abadía, ‘La idea del antimeridiano’, pp.
1–​26 (n. 55); Sandman, ‘Spanish Nautical’, pp. 1095–​1142, esp. p. 1111 (n. 10).
63 The capitulación is transcribed in José Toribio Medina, Juan Díaz de Solis. Estudio Histórico, 2
(1897), n. 22, pp. 58–​69, esp. pp. 64–​6.
 435

International Legal Thought around 1500 435

side of the Americas, with the same idea of clarifying the demarcation.64 There is
further evidence that Magellan, who had participated in the occupation of Malacca
in 1511, was convinced that if the Treaty of Tordesillas were applied to the Pacific,
the Moluccas would lie within the sphere allocated to the Castilian crown, an opin-
ion he expressed in the same years.65 Uncertainty about whether the line could
be stretched to the other hemisphere to form the antimeridian—​or the fear that
this would happen—​might also have been the reason for why King Emmanuel
of Portugal had approached Pope Leo X with the supplication to renew the con-
cessions granted to the Portuguese crown in previous Bulls, assuring it the rights
to the whole Pacific. The Pope had accomplished just that in the bull, Praecelsae
Devotionis, of 3 November 1514 not by mentioning the previous Papal Bulls that
had been issued by Pope Alexander VI in 1493, but, instead, by referring to the
earlier concessions granted to the Portuguese, including the Treaty of Alcáçovas.66
Over the years, the line drawn in Tordesillas seemed to denote with greater clar-
ity, at least for the Castilian side, a meridian, which would be extended beyond the
poles into the other hemisphere to form the antimeridian. In the capitulación with
Magellan, signed in Valladolid on 22 March 1518, the goal of the explorations was
described as being to ‘discover what has not yet been discovered […] within our
limits and demarcation, within the dominions which are ours in the Ocean, within
the limits of our demarcation, Islands and tierra firme and rich spices’, separating
this from what was within the demarcated territories of the Portuguese king.67
Theoretical writings supported that viewpoint. The Suma de Geographia q[ue] trata
de todas las partidas [et] provincias del mundo: en especial de las indias […], published
in 1519 in Salamanca, a centre for cosmographic debates, put forth a clear state-
ment for the Spanish territories in parts of the Pacific, due to a ‘border’ (‘limite’).68
Frequently cited in this context is the statement of a Castilian crown official, Alonso
de Zuazo, who in 1518 wrote to the emperor from his new post in Santo Domingo,
Hispaniola, informing him that it was common knowledge (‘Sábese’) that Pope
Alexander’s concession had rendered the world divided ‘like an orange’. In the same
letter, the recently appointed judge, and ambitious protegée of Cardenal Cisneros,
pointed out that Portugal had many territories in the Pacific that belonged to the

64  In the asiento dated 24 November 1514, they stipulate that he should go 1,700 leagues from
the tip of the Americas towards the Pacific, without touching upon what belongs to the Portuguese,
see Martín Fernández de Navarette, Colección de los viajes y descubrimientos que hicieron por mar los
Españoles, vol. III (1945), n. 35, pp. 147–​9; n. 36, pp. 149–​50, at p. 147 and similarily p. 149.
65  See on this Brotton, Trading Territories, p. 125 (n. 9), citing the chronicler’s Bartolomé Leonardo
de Argensolas, Conquista de las Islas Malucas. See also Ezquerra Abadía, ‘La idea del antimeridiano’,
pp. 1–​26, pp. 12ff. (n. 55).
66  The Bull is transcribed in Gardiner Davenport, European Treaties, n. 12, pp. 112–​17 (n. 20).
67 See Capitulacion y asiento que SS. MM. mandaron tomar con Magallanes y Falero sobre el decubrim-
iento de las islas de la especería […], 22 March 1518, in Martín Fernández de Navarette, Colección de
los viajes y descubrimientos que hicieron por mar los Españoles, IV (1946), n. 3, pp. 109–​13, at p. 109.
68  Martín Fernández de Enciso, Suma de Geographía (1519), cited after the edición facsimilar, por
José Ibáñez Cerdá, Colección Joyas Bibliográficas (1948), p. 25: ‘Y pasado de Melaca docientas leguas
se acaba el límite de lo del Rey de Portugal: y al fín deste limite está la boca del Ganges […]’. See on
Encisco’s work more extensively Padrón, The Spacious Word, pp. 84ff. (n. 7).
436

436 Thomas Duve

king, ‘at least according to the world map which Amerigo, who has been around this
area, ordered to be printed, which has a round form and which the señor Infante has in
his room’.69

4. Cosmography, cartography and the production of law

Alonso de Zuazo’s remark shows that if by 1518 the antimeridian had already
become a legal argument this may have been not least due to the visualization of
cosmographic knowledge. It seems reasonable to assume that visualizing the world
not as a flat map, but with a spherical projection in a round map, as might have
been part of the decoration of the Castilian Infante’s room, might have been impor-
tant for understanding the line drawn in Tordesillas as a meridian which had to
have effect on the other side of the globe.70
In fact, two decades after the signing of the Treaty of Tordesillas, the image of
the world had undergone a radical change, and the dynamic production of world
maps ensured that the size and shape of the earth was being visualized differently
than in the days of Tordesillas.71 Now, world maps, spherical projections, or globes,
were produced at many sides, not least in the centres of cosmographical knowledge
in Castile and Portugal. These maps did not only empower their owners ‘in making
a series of claims to both worldly, and other-​wordly authority’,72 they also provided
practical information, defined provisional fields of economic exploration, and not
least, they demonstrated that it was possible and necessary for the meridian drawn
in Tordesillas to be stretched to the other hemisphere as an antimeridian in order
to form a full circle.
The first map to be painted for the Spanish crown showing a meridian is attrib-
uted to Juan de la Cosa, dating from 1500.73 It shows a line called linia meridionalis,

69 See Carta del licenciado Alonso de Zuazo a Carlos I […], 22 January 1518, in Joaquín Pacheco,
Francisco de Cárdenas, and Luis Torres de Mendoza (eds.), Colección de documentos inéditos relativos al
descubrimiento, conquista y organización de las antiguas posesiones españolas de América y Oceanía (1864,
reprint 1964), pp. 292–​8, at p. 296. Ezquerra Abadía, ‘La idea del antimeridiano’, pp. 1–​26, at p. 13
(n. 55), suggests, without further explanations, that the map could be the Waldseemüller World Map.
70  This shows that Magellan might not have been thinking so much ‘outside the geographical mental-
ity of his time’, as Brotton, A History, p. 194 (n. 8) emphasized, and that at this moment princes and
diplomats did not continue ‘to envisage the world on a flat map, with no real sense of the connection
between the earth’s western and eastern hemispheres’. However, it confirms that ‘beginning to imagine
the world as a global continuum’ was quite recent these days and clearly related to spatial perceptions
shaped by the visualization of space in objects like maps or globes.
71  See for an overview on the history of cartography Fernández-​Armesto, ‘Maps and Exploration’,
pp. 738–​70 (n. 10); Sandman, ‘Spanish Nautical’, pp. 1095–​1142 (n. 10); Maria Fernanda Alegria,
Suzanne Daveau, João Carlos Garcia, and Francesco Relaño, ‘Portuguese Cartography in the
Renaissance’, in David Woodward (ed.), The History of Cartography: Cartography in the European
Renaissance (2007), pp. 975–​1068; David Buisseret, ‘Spanish Colonial Cartography, 1450–​1700’, in
David Woodward (ed.), The History of Cartography: Cartography in the European Renaissance (2007),
pp. 1143–​71; Portuondo, Secret Science, pp. 33ff. (n. 10); Sánchez Martínez, ‘An Official Image’ (n.
10); Cerezo Martínez, La cartografía (n. 10); on Antonio de Nebríjas teaching on the longitude of
Tordesillas see Carabias Torres, ‘La medida del espacio’, pp. 185–​202 (n. 48).
72 Brotton, Trading Territories, p. 23 (n. 9).
73  Jesús Varela Marcos, Juan de la Cosa: la Cartografía Histórica de los Descubrimientos Españoles
(2011). See also Sánchez Martínez, La espada, pp. 62ff. (n. 10).
 437

International Legal Thought around 1500 437

which in all probability was the line drawn in Tordesillas that ran through the
Atlantic, without touching American soil.74 The distance between Europe and
America is still clearly underestimated, as was common at that time. After Pedro
Alvares Cabral’s expedition had reached the Brazilian coast in 1500, the precise loca-
tion of the line gained practical importance. The famous Cantino planisphere—​see
Plate I—​was drawn after the return of the expedition in 1502 and based on the
information brought back from this voyage, probably as a copy of the official map
held in the Armazém da Guiné e Indias in Lisbon.75 This planisphere is consid-
ered the oldest map in existence, undisputedly with latitudes determined by using
the astronomical method.76 And although the circumference of the earth is again
underestimated, the line of Tordesillas is clearly marked and runs through Brazil.77
It was, however, still a flat map which avoided answering—​or even raising—​the
question where the meridian of Tordesillas would fall if it ran right round the globe.
An increasing number of maps followed, drawn not least by Portuguese cartog-
raphers: the Pirî Reis Map of the Atlantic (1503), the Map of the Atlantic by Pedro
Reines (circa 1504), and the Nautical Planisphere of Nicolò Caverio (1505).78 Also
Martin Waldseemüller’s famous World Map and the gores for constructing globes
also appeared in these years, 1507, published together with the Cosmographiae
introduction.79 One year later, in 1508, for the first time, a flat map depicted the
globe in its entirety.80 Some years later, cartographers of both kingdoms drew world
maps which clearly depict the world divided by a meridian and an antimeridian.81
A 1519 drawing attributed to Antonio de Holanda, part of the so-​called Miller
Atlas, made for the Portuguese king, clearly shows that the line drawn in Tordesillas
had an effect on the Pacific;82 the whole world shown on the map is the hemisphere
belonging to the Portuguese king, and that included the Moluccas—​see Plate II.

74  Hugo O’Donnell and Duque de Estrada, ‘La Carta de Juan de la Cosa, primera presentación
cartográfica del Tratado de Tordesillas’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and
Luís Adão da Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 1231–​44.
75  Mendonça de Albuquerque, ‘O Tratado de Tordesilhas’, pp. 119–​36 (n. 47). See on the Cantino
planisphere Brotton, A History, pp. 190ff. (n. 9); Sánchez Martínez, La Espada, pp. 81ff. (n. 10).
76  Joaquim Alves Gaspar, ‘From the Portolan Chart to the Latitude Chart: The Silent Cartographic
Revolution’, Comité français de Cartographie 216 (2013), 67–​77.
77  Fernando Lourenço Fernandes, O planisfério de Cantino e o Brasil: Uma introdução à cartologia
política dos descobrimentos e o Atlântico Sul (2003).
78  Luisa Martín-​Meras Verdejo, ‘The Exploration and Geopolitical Stakes of Iberian Cartography,
15th and 16th centuries’, in Catherine Hofmann, Hélène Richard, and Emmanuelle Vagnon (eds.),
The Golden Age of Maritime Maps: When Europe Discovered the World (2013), pp. 110–​125; Henrique
Ferreira Botelho, ed., Quatro séculos de imagens da Cartografia portuguesa = Four centuries of images from
Portuguese Cartograph (2nd edn, 1999).
79  See on Waldseemüller and his World Map Brotton, A History, pp. 146ff. (n. 8).
80  See on this Padrón, ‘A Sea of Denial’, pp. 1–​27, at p. 12.
81  One of the first—​or perhaps the very first—​is the map of Jorge Reinel, drawn c. 1519 for the
preparation of the voyage of Magellan, which was lost in the Second World War. See on this Henriette
Ozanne, ‘La découverte cartographique des Moluques’, in Monique Pelletier (ed.), Géographie du
monde au Moyen Âge et à la Renaissance (1989), pp. 217–​28. See also Ezquerra Abadía, ‘La idea del
antimeridiano’, pp. 1–​26 (n. 55).
82 Mappemonde circulaire représentant l’hémisphère portugais -​Atlas Miller:  Œuvre de Lopo
Homem [Pedro et Jorge Reinel, António de Holanda], [Portugal], 1519. Manuscrit enluminé sur
vélin, 41.5 x 59 cm et 61 x 118 cm. BnF, département des Cartes et Plans, CPL GE D-​26179 (RES),
438

438 Thomas Duve

Some years later, the nautical planisphere known as Salviatis Map, most probably
a copy of the Padrón Real, the official map held in the Spanish Consejo de Indias of
circa 1525, clearly shows the Atlantic and the open Pacific, with the meridian of
Tordesillas and an antimeridian, but it situates the Moluccas in the Spanish terri-
tory. This already shows that now, both sides staked their claims over the Moluccas
based on geographical findings, instruments, and cartographic proofs. ‘Official car-
tography’, it has been said, was transformed into ‘juridical cartography’.83 Since
then, the objects which embodied geographical knowledge, like maps and globes,
became an indispensable tool for diplomats and a representation of their aspira-
tions. Some historians even assign them the status of ‘legal authority’.84 Even if one
might not agree with these wide ranging conclusions, it seems clear that there is a
relation between the enormous changes in the knowledge of the world, its visualiza-
tion, the appearance of the anti-​meridian, and the new interpretation of the Treaty
of Tordesillas between 1494 and the second decade of sixteenth century.

5. Settling the dispute: the Junta de Badajoz y Elvas and the Treaty
of Saragossa
After the return of Magellan’s expedition, intense negotiations took place between
the two kings through letters and ambassadors,85 resulting in the Asiento de Vitoria,
which was signed on 19 February 1524. In this agreement, the crowns agreed to send
two expert committees—​astronomers, pilots, cosmographers, mathematicians—​to
discuss the line of demarcation in the Pacific.86 On 1 March 1524, both commit-
tees met at the border between Castile (Badajoz) and Portugal (Elvas). Renowned
expert emissaries for both crowns like Lopo Homen, Diogo Ribeiro, and Diogo
Lopes de Sequira participated, bringing along their charts, instruments, and globes,
but were unable to reach any agreement.87 The presence of the objects clearly deter-
mined the negotiations, and the failure of the Junta must be seen as a consequence
not least of still lacking scientific standards.

f. 1 © Bibliothèque nationale de France, online: <http://​expositions.bnf.fr/​marine/​grand/​ge-​d-​26179_​

01-​2.htm>. See on this Sánchez Martínez, La espada, pp. 104ff. (n. 10).
83 Sánchez Martínez, ‘De la ‘cartografía oficial’ (n. 61); Sánchez Martínez, ‘An Official Image’
(n. 10).
84 Brotton, A History, p. 201 (n. 8).
85  See e.g. the Instrucción que dió el rey al Dr. Cabrero y al Protonotario Barroso sus embajadores para
tratar con el rey de Portugal sobre la capitulación del año 1494, in Fernández de Navarette, Colección de
los viajes IV, n. 29, pp. 274–​7 (n. 67).
86  See Sánchez Martínez, La Espada, pp. 114ff. (n. 10). For the text of the agreement see Mariño,
Tratados internacionales, n.  15, pp.  113–​24 (n. 20). English translation in Gardiner Davenport,
European Treaties, vol. I, n. 16, pp. 169–​98 (n. 20).
87 Brotton, A History, pp. 201ff. (n. 8); Cuesta Domingo, ‘La fijación’, pp. 1483–​1518 (n. 62),
Artur Teodoro de Matos, ‘As reunioes e as conversaçoes castelhano-​portuguesas nos anos posteriores
ao Tratado de Tordesilhas’, in Luis Antonio Ribot García, Adolfo Carrasco Martínez, and Luís Adão
da Fonseca (eds.), El Tratado de Tordesillas y su época (1995), pp. 1355–​1641; Díaz-​Trechuelo López
Spínola, ‘As reunioes’, pp. 1519–​1540 (n. 62); Barrero García, ‘As reunioes’, pp. 1365–​86 (n. 62);
Rumeu de Armas, El Tratado de Tordesillas, pp. 221ff. (n. 19).
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International Legal Thought around 1500 439

Under the changed circumstances, in large part owing to the closer ties between
the Portuguese and Castilian Crown, following the crossed marriages of 1524 and
1526, the crowns started to prepare a settlement of the dispute through the Treaty
of Saragossa. In the making of the final Treaty of Saragossa of 22 April 1529 which
was signed by the representatives of King Charles I of Spain and King John III of
Portugal, participants of the Junta de Badajoz y Elva had collaborated. The map of
Diego Ribeiro had been particularly important for determining the specifics, and
both parties relied heavily on their interpretations of Ptolemy, and the results of
the measurements made by their expeditions.88 The concluding agreement took
a surprising turn, in that the treaty was but a contract of sale, with a repurchase
agreement (retrovendendo) incorporated into it, indicating that the King of Castile
would sell
from this day and for all time, to the said King of Portugal […] all rights, actions, domin-
ions, ownerships, and possessions, or quasi possessions, and all rights of navigation,
traffic, and trade in any manner whatsoever that the said Emperor and King of Castile
declares that he holds and could hold howsoever and in whatsoever manner in the said
Moluccas […].
The demarcation line they then drew served, primarily, to clarify what had been sold:
… in order to ascertain what islands, places, lands, seas, and their rights and jurisdiction, are
sold henceforth and forever by the said Emperor and King of Castile, by this contract under
the aforesaid condition, to the said King of Portugal, a line must be determined from pole
to pole, that is to say, from North to South, by a semi-​circular extending northeast by east
nineteen degrees from the Moluccas […].
This line should be drawn on two charts to be made according to the model chart
held in the Casa de la Contratación, the Padrón Real, drawn by Diego Ribeiro.
However, both parties seemed unwilling to definitively cede positions claimed
on the basis of the demarcation line drawn according to cosmographical criteria
close to where they had assumed the antimeridian would run. While the King of
Castile had the right to ‘cancel the contract’, the King of Portugal also reserved
for himself the right to ‘prove his right to the ownership’ of the Moluccas, and
appointed an expert commission to that end. The appointment stipulated that
these experts
shall consult, covenant, and agree upon the manner of asserting the right of said propri-
etorship pursuant to said Treaty and contract made between the said Catholic sovereigns,
Don Fernando and Doña Isabella, and the said King, Dom John II, of Portugal. In case the
said Emperor and King of Castile be judged to have the right of said proprietorship, such
sentence shall not be executed nor used until the said Emperor and King of Castile […]
shall first have actually returned all the said 350,000 ducats, which by virtue of this contract
should have been given…

88 Brotton, Trading Territories, pp.  135ff. (n. 9); Sánchez Martínez, ‘De la “cartografía oficial” ’
(n. 61).
40

440 Thomas Duve

and vice versa.89 A pragmatic solution was contracted between two dynasties that
decided to strengthen their ties, eventually even uniting the crowns under one
hereditary line through cross-​marriages.
This might already show that contrary to common perception, the Treaty of
Saragossa did not partition the world or simply draw a line through unknown ter-
ritories, when in fact all it did was settle a dispute that arose owing to the year-​long
race to explore and occupy territories in the area that had motivated European
overseas expansion since its beginnings in the fifteenth century.90 Obviously, both
sides claimed their rights over the dominions in the Pacific, but they did not do so
exclusively drawing on this title. For the purpose of this chapter, however, it seems
clear that it was precisely the inability of early modern cosmographers to determine
the exact position of the Malacca islands which motivated the treaty.

IV. Conclusion

What can this survey of the legal practice of drawing demarcation lines between
1479 and 1529 tell us about system and order in international law, especially the
importance of changing spatial perceptions and their impact on the formation of
international legal thought? Obviously, the results of a brief survey—​constrained
by time and space—​can only be limited. However, the following aspects deserve to
be highlighted.
(1) Important advances in cartography and changing spatial perceptions around
1500 clearly impacted international legal thought. In fact, within two dec-
ades of its signing, the Treaty of Tordesillas was being interpreted very dif-
ferently. Even if at the moment the Treaty was signed no consideration was
given to extending the demarcation line to the Pacific, twenty years later,
the interpretation was adapted to new knowledge. Due to new insights
about the shape and size of the world that had materialized in world maps
and globes, between c. 1502 and c. 1512 the antimeridian drawn using the
meridian of Tordesillas seems to have been recognized as a legitimate means
of delimitating spheres between the two crowns in both hemispheres. New
knowledge about the world, embodied in maps with a spherical projection,
and globes, had produced a legal argument. It also had changed the way
frontiers were negotiated between the two crowns.
(2) Notwithstanding the said importance of this growing knowledge and its
impact on law, drawing demarcation lines around 1500 has to be under-
stood as a blending of traditional practices, empirical observations, and new

89  The translation follows Gardiner Davenport, European Treaties, pp. 187–​9 (n. 20).
90  Obviously, this interpretation is far more sober than the usual affirmations, see for example
Chaplin, Round about the Earth, p. 41 (n. 16): ‘The line’s imprecision mattered less than its global
pretension: it was the first civil boundary drawn around the whole Earth, a breathtaking imperial claim
to the world, premised on the ability to go around it.’
 41

International Legal Thought around 1500 441

scientific knowledge. As is the case with the legal historical interpretation of
the treaties,91 which could not be dealt with extensively here, and as empha-
sized in recent historiography on early sixteenth-​century cartography,92
continuity with previous medieval thought and practices should not be
underrated. In the Papal Bulls and the Treaty of Tordesillas, the demarcation
line drawn in Alcáçovas in 1479 was changed, shifted, and fixed according
to the interests of the parties. The space in which these lines were drawn was
neither unknown nor considered blank space. The line drawn in Alcáçovas
as well as the 100-​league-​line of the Papal Bulls and the 370-​league-​line of
Tordesillas were drawn from fixed and known points. They responded at
least in part to observations made on sea and some of them were suggested
by Columbus himself. The Treaty of Saragossa finally established a demar-
cation line in an area absolutely not unknown. By the time the Treaty was
signed in 1529, the histories of conquest, subjection of peoples, discoveries,
and appropriation of islands and cities had already been under way for over
fifteen years. No doubt, geodetic measurements were important for locating
the antimeridian and influenced the negotiations. But as the agreement to
send out a joint voyage to the 370-​leagues-​line in Tordesillas as well as the
failing negotiations at the Junta of Bajadoz and Elvas thirty years later dem-
onstrated, there was no scientific knowledge sufficient to fix a line simply by
drawing on cosmographic knowledge. Many maps used were still based on
Ptolemy’s 1,300-​year-​old map projections, ‘reproducing many of the Greek
geographer’s errors, and adhering to a geocentric view of the universe that would
only be challenged with the publication of Copernicus’s On the Revolution of
the Celestial Spheres in 1543’—​as Jerry Brotton emphasizes ‘hardly signs of
a challenging modernity’.93 What has been called a ‘rationalization of space’
thus was a complex, slow process that built upon tradition, and existing
practices and went in hand with explorations and experimental knowledge-​
creation by measurements.94
(3) In the light of what has been said up to this point, Carl Schmitt’s far ranging
diagnosis of the spatial revolution and the emergence of global linear think-
ing seems to lack historical foundation. Without taking previous practices
into account, as in other fields a ‘frustrating lack of detail and textual speci-
ficity to his arguments’, he created a teleological and political-​theological

91  See Muldoon, ‘Bridging the Medieval-​Modern Divide’, pp. 175–​204 (n. 1) with further refer-
ences. From a doctrinal point of view, García-​Gallo, ‘Las bulas’, pp. 461–​829 (n. 19); Hera Pérez-​
Cuesta, ‘La primera división’, pp.  1051–​70 (n. 24)  also emphasize that the Papal Bulls and the
subsequent treaties have to be interpreted from their medieval origins.
92 Padrón, The Spacious Word, p.  69 (n. 7); Brotton, A History, p.  182 (n. 8), regarding the
Waldseemüller map of 1507.
93 Brotton, A History, p. 154 (n. 8).
94  In a similar vein, looking at later developments, Benton, A Search for Sovereignty emphasizes: ‘The
same treaty that appears to represent the extra-​European world as an object of European imperial rule
instead shows the ways it stimulated a fluid geographic discourse and open-​ended legal politics’, p. 23
(n. 5).
42

442 Thomas Duve

interpretation of the history of international legal thought.95 Schmitt ‘rec-

ognized (and celebrated)’ the dependence of the entire European state sys-
tem upon colonialism and imperialism and rightly emphasized that modern
territorial politics emerged as a consequence of the conquest of the New
World.96 However, the function of his historical interpretation, explicitly
posed in line with Savignian historical jurisprudence, was to base his tragic
vision on the rise and fall of his Jus publicum Europaeum.97 One should read
his account as what it is: a piece of political philosophy, a normative state-
ment, drawing on a very small historical basis.
(4) Finally, the case study presented here might illustrate that considering the
changing knowledge about space can be an important element for writing
the history of international law. Taking changing spatial perceptions into
account, being attentive to the objects which embody this knowledge and
shape spatial imagination, and integrating the insights drawn from history
of knowledge into praxeological perspectives might help to improve our legal
historical interpretation about how international normative orders emerge.
Despite the understandable temptation to reduce complex historical pro-
cesses to suggestive ‘revolutions’, the challenge legal historical research is
facing precisely consists in the opposite:  in understanding the elements
and mechanisms, the ideas as well as the material dimension which jointly
determine the complex and gradual transformations of (international) legal
orders.

95  Stuart Elden, ‘Reading Schmitt Geopolitically. Nomos, Territory and Großraum’, in Stephen
Legg (ed.), Spatiality, Sovereignty and Carl Schmitt: Geographies of the Nomos (2011), pp. 91–​105, at
p. 97. Michael Heffernan, ‘Mapping Schmitt’, in Stephen Legg (ed.), Spatiality, Sovereignty and Carl
Schmitt: Geographies of the Nomos (2011), pp. 234–​43; Koskenniemi, ‘International Law’, pp. 492–​511
(n. 16). For a critique of the concept from a legal historical point of view see briefly Benton, A Search
for Sovereignty, pp. 282–​3 (n. 5).
96  Stephen Legg and Alexander Vasudevan, ‘Introduction: Geographies of the Nomos’, in Stephen
Legg (ed.), Spatiality, Sovereignty and Carl Schmitt: Geographies of the Nomos (2011), pp. 1–​23, at p. 3;
Elden, ‘Reading Schmitt’, pp. 91–​105, at p. 96 (n. 95). A critique of Schmitt’s ideas also in Fisch, Die
europäische Expansion (n. 1).
97 See on this and the term also Armin von Bogdandy and Stephan Hinghofer-​Szalkay, ‘Das
etwas unheimliche Ius Publicum Europaeum: Begriffsgeschichtliche Analysen im Spannungsfeld von
europäischem Rechtsraum, droit public de l’Europe und Carl Schmitt’, Zeitschrift für ausländisches
öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht (ZaöRV) 73/​2 (2013), 209–​48, at 236ff.
 43

21
The Disorder of Economy? The First Relectio de
Indis in a Theological Perspective
Mónica García-​Salmones Rovira

Christophe Grellard locates the nominalist debate that took place at the end of
the Middle Ages within the process of evolution towards a secularist society. In his
helpful interpretation of Certeau’s thesis about the possibility of contrasting form
and content in a history of doctrine and a sociology of practice, Grellard describes
how the enunciation of faith became increasingly disassociated from the demands
of action. A ‘relativization of the social value of belief ’ occurred ‘that allows the
progressive secularization of society’. According to both these authors, a movement
started towards dispensing with the practices that should have accompanied doctri-
nal content. While content and dogma remained, these practices vanished on the
basis of an order subject to different constraints than those proposed by faith. ‘It is
this that allows the substitution of a code by another: we move from a theological
code, in which theology supports the whole of the social structures to a political
and economic code.’1
On the basis of an analysis of the theology of Francisco de Vitoria (1483–​1546)
and a review of his famous Relectio de Indis, this chapter nuances the previous argu-
ment that a new secular world of politics and economy arose at the end of the
Middle Ages, in which the practice of Christian faith became unwelcome. For one
thing, although their humanist sympathies meant that they did not favour imperi-
alist conquest per se, it was theologians, rather than economists or politicians, who
responded positively to the macro-​economic enterprise aspect of the colonization
of America. Adherents to the late scholastic tradition, such as Vitoria, cemented
the work of rationalization and secularization of the communication between peo-
ples (from there Vitoria’s already traditional title of founder of international law).2

1  Christophe Grellard, De la certitude volontaire: débats nominalistes sur la foi à la fin du Moyen
Âge (2014), pp. 13–​15, at p. 14 (author translation; unless otherwise stated all translations are the
author’s); Michel de Certeau, ‘The Formality of Practices: From Religious Systems to the Ethics of
Enlightenment (the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries)’ in The Writing of History, trans. Tom
Conley (1988), pp. 147–​205.
2  Joseph Barthélemy, ‘François de Vitoria’, in Les fondateurs du droit international: F. de Vitoria,
A. Gentilis, F. Suarez, Grotius, Zouch, Pufendorf, Bynkershoek, Wolf, Wattel, de Martens; leurs œuvres, leurs

The Disorder of Economy? The first Relectio de Indis in a Theological Perspective. Mónica García-Salmones.
© Mónica García-Salmones, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
4

444 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

Moreover, they did so as theologians. The fact that between the internal perspec-
tive of the moral and virtuous individual and the external needs of an expand-
ing economy of exchange the moral theologians of Salamanca appeared to have
been drawn to choose the latter is particularly visible in Vitoria’s De Indis, which
continues to astonish the reader due to its remarkable novelty and independence
of contemporary theory.3 Despite its avowedly Thomistic approach to many doc-
trinal points, the Salamanca School avoided the tension that would have arisen
if Aquinas’s theory of moral virtue had been applied to its members’ thinking on
economic and political matters. It seems that the Salamanca School developed an
economic theory and employed a type of moral theory that reflect one another.
The moral economy that flourished in Salamanca during the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries has been the object of a great deal of study.4 The influence
exerted by these theologians has recently been emphasized in the argument that the
Salamanca School developed a special moral theory for merchants, enabling them
to establish in the long run an international system of commerce that was out of the
reach of the prince and based on the key concepts of dominium and jus gentium.5
The activities of the scholastic theologians of Salamanca also coincided with a
general engagement with law on the part of moral theologians, similar to what
canon lawyers had been doing during the course of at least three centuries. Decock
thinks that that was a ‘jurisdiction over man that has now disappeared’.6 My intui-
tion is that back then and now the key question continues to revolve around the
freedom of conscience and the government of conduct.7
Furthermore, in the face of the new situations, new territorial discoveries and new
challenges to imperial authority that arose in the sixteenth and seventeenth centu-
ries, a massive extension of the rules of natural law as moral law can be ascertained.

doctrines, ouvrage collectif (1904), pp. 1–​36; James Brown Scott, The Spanish Origins of International
Law: Francisco de Vitoria and His Law of Nations (1934).
3  This attitude is also articulated through the development of the theory of the providential function
of commerce. For this argument, see Ileana M. Porras, ‘The Doctrine of the Providential Function of
Commerce in International Law: Idealizing Trade’ in Martti Koskenniemi, Mónica García-​Salmones,
and Paolo Amorosa (eds.), International Law and Religion: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives
(forthcoming).
4  Among others, see Raúl González Fabre, Justicia en el Mercado: La Fundamentación de la ética
del mercado según Francisco de Vitoria (1998); José Barrientos García, Repertorio de Moral Económica
(1536-​1670): La Escuela de Salamanca y su proyección (2011); Domenec Mele, ‘Early Business Ethics
in Spain: The Salamanca School (1526-​1614)’, Journal of Business Ethics 22 (1999), 175–​89; Juan
Manuel Elegido, ‘The Just Price: Three Insights from the Salamanca School’, Journal of Business Ethics
90 (2009), 29–​46.
5  Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Empire and International Law: The Real Spanish Contribution’, University
of Toronto Law Journal 61 (2011), 1–​36.
6  He also refers to a ‘juristic notion of conscience’: Wim Decock, Theologians and Contract Law: The
Moral Transformation of the jus Commune (c. 1500-​1650) (2013), at p. 21 and p. 27.
7  The charge that priests and casuists have governed conduct is a common topos in some histories
of conscience. For an insightful argument on the governing of conduct in the post-​Reformation era
and Locke’s own techniques in that regard, see James Tully, ‘Governing Conduct’ in Edmund Leites
(ed.), Conscience and Casuistry in Early Modern Europe (2002), pp. 12–​70. Foucault also addressed this
issue in Michel Foucault, ‘Truth and Subjectivity’, 20.1.1980, <http://​www.lib.berkeley.edu/​MRC/​
foucault/​howison.html>.
 45

The First Relectio de Indis 445

At the outset, the question may candidly be asked as to why, when new events
occur, would one need new moral theories, if naturally the terms of moral action—​
that is to say, the means to decide what was morally right—​may be found within
human nature. Arguably only the labouring of reason about the new cases would
have sufficed.8 Or to put it in Christian terms, would the Decalogue not suffice?
Francisco de Vitoria’s answer in De Indis about the morality of the Conquista,
although it fits squarely within doctrinal elaborations of natural law, is far from
typical of casuistic doctrines provoked by moral uncertainty. Vitoria, in fact, works
with casuistic theology, for instance in his commentary on the Summa Theologia,
and frames his answer in De Indis as a case of conscience, admonishing the listener
to act either ‘per rationem probabilem’ or ‘per auctoritatem sapientum’.9 However,
in De Indis he does not theorize in the abstract, as is the case in the inherently
paradoxical casuistic literature.10 Rather, Vitoria responds to the specific question
of whether one should consider what was happening in the New World to be legiti-
mate or not, and thus act accordingly. Moreover, notwithstanding his setting the
facts of the real situation before his audience, the manner in which Vitoria studied
the actual event in relation to the moral and cosmological order is simply unortho-
dox. It is not possible to recognize in Vitoria, a Christian theologian, the dichotomy
of order built upon the individual being and upon the universal order, both being
dependent on each other. The conclusion at which he arrived, and his very reason-
ing, shows that despite the presentation of the problem as a moral question of
conscience the activity of inquiry undertaken by the Salamancan theologian was
not driven by a concern for order in the Augustinian sense.11

8  See e.g. Stefan Kadelbach, in this volume p. 147, stating the opinion of Grotius: ‘ “Natural law”
including the first principles of nature (prima naturae), the “first duty” to take care of oneself (I 2, 1.1),
can be ascertained by virtue of human reason, since a sense of what complies with it and what does not
is part of the human condition (Pr. 9, 23, 39).’
9  Francisco de Vitoria, ‘De Indis recenter inventis. Relectio prior, in De Indis et de Ivre Belli
Reflections, ed. Ernest Nys, Herbert Francis Wright editor of the Latin text (1917), at p. 220. On
probabilism, see Rudolf Schüssler, ‘On the Anatomy of Probabilism’, in Kraye and Saarinen (eds.),
Moral Philosophy on the Threshold of Modernity (2005), pp. 91–​113, at pp. 97, 101, and 106.
10  See generally, the commentary on questions pp. 57–​66, ‘On Justice’ by Vitoria, who concentrates
on the casuistic element already present in Aquinas, and magnifies it. One example among a multitude
is about a poor man who is in debt to a rich man. Paying the debt will cause immense harm to the
former and cause him to lose his own social status. After considering the different previous opinions,
Vitoria concluded that he has to pay and asserted that that question appears often in confession.
Vicente Beltrán de Heredia, Comentarios del maestro Francisco de Vitoria, O.P. a la Secunda secundae de
Santo Tomás, vol. 3, De Justitia (qq. 57/​66) (1934), pp. 172–​3.
11 Augustine, Die Ordnung, trans. Carl Johann Perl (1966); on the dichotomy of order: ‘Man erk-
ennt bei Augustin eine ‘Dichotomie der Ordnung’ in eine individuelle, dem Einzelwesen inhäriendere
(ordo cuique proprius) und eine allgemeine, das All umfassende (ordo universitatis): Die eine muss man
befolgen, einhalten und bewahren (cf. sequi ac tenere), die andere will entdeckt und erkannt werden
(cf. vel videre vel pandere). Beides bedingt einander nach augustinischer Auffassung’, Jörg Trelenberg,
Augustins Schrift ‘De ordine’ (2009), quote at p. 36, pp. 39–​40; see also Therese Fuhrer, ‘Tage und
Nächte in Cassiciacum. Die Antimanichäische Theodizee in Augustins Dialog De Ordine’, in Wolfgang
Sonntagbauer and Johannes Klopf (eds.), Wolfgang Speyer zum 80. Geburtstag, Supplementband XVI
Grazar Beiträge. Zeitschrift für die klassische Altertumwissenschaft (2013), pp. 41–​57. Although he
defines much of his ethical and legal discussion by reference to Augustine’s writings, it is now thought
that Vitoria, unlike Melchor Cano and Domingo de Soto, had not read Augustine’s The City of God
46

446 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

This chapter explores three avenues: Vitoria’s theology, his understanding of the

dispensation of natural law, and the actual text of De Indis. Its aim is to acquire
further insight into this influential text and its relationship with the doctrinal his-
tory of the discipline of international law, as well as into the moral theology of the
Salamancan theologians in general. An analysis of the ideas that Vitoria poured into
his influential work will also help to assess the argument that in the late Middle
Ages a new world order focused on economic issues that a new economic morality
adjudicated upon. Rather than in economy, the chapter seeks in a specific style of
doing theology and in its partial resurgence as natural law the reasons for disorder,
for that division between faith and practice and for the fragmentation between
reason and moral decision.

I.  Vitoria’s Theology for International Law

Francisco de Vitoria was a theologian.12 An important part of his official tasks was
to train future confessors and much of his work makes sense within that historical
context.13 However, in order to appraise his theology properly it is necessary to
see him as an intellectual of the first rank. He was a Doctor of the University of
Paris, and thus an elite member of the Church.14 Later Vitoria became a professor
at the University of Salamanca, which at that time was the Spanish Empire’s prin-
cipal centre of learning, of an Empire on which, in his time, the sun never set.15
Furthermore, and not the least in importance among his achievements, Vitoria
was founder of his own theological school. Moreover, he consistently introduced
himself as a theologian doing theology, as opposed to an advisor to a prince on
political matters, and in his writing he never deviated from theological commen-
tary. Therefore, the crucial question is that of what type of theology he, and conse-
quently the School of Salamanca, developed.

closely or even in its entirety: see Mary Keys, ‘Religion, Empire and Law among Nations in The City of
God –​From the Salamanca School to Augustine and Back Again’ (n. 3).
12  For a comprehensive study of Vitoria’s legal work in this volume, see the contribution by Bunge
in this volume.
13  See n.10. Koskenniemi also notes that a contextual reading of Vitoria ‘would highlight that
his lectures on the Indians or on just war were composed in the context of teaching future clerics on
the management of the sacrament of penance’, Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Histories of International Law:
Significance and Problems for a Critical View’, Temple International and Comparative Law Journal 27
(2013), 215–​40, at 227.
14  Statistics collated by Farge about theologians who graduated from the University of Paris between
1500 and 1543 suggest this idea. Vitoria is among the twelve most prolific theologians, among the four
most re-​edited (sixty-​one, the others are Josse Clichtove, 210; Guillaume Pepin, eighty-​two; and Pierre
Dore, fifty-​two) and together with Jean Aleaume, Jacques Almain, Josse Clichtove, and John Mair
forms a group of five theologians that account for 75 per cent of all the later editions/​impressions in
scholastic theology. See James K. Farge, Orthodoxy and Reform in Early Reformation France: The Faculty
of Theology of Paris, 1500-​1543 (1985), pp. 100–​4.
15  The saying that in the Spanish Empire ‘the sun never set’ was apparently written in the 1520s by
Fray Francisco de Ugalde, see e.g. in Jean-​Benoit Nadeau and Julie Barlow, The Story of Spanish (2013),
p. 172.
 47

The First Relectio de Indis 447

An overview of current theological commentary shows that the theology of the
Salamanca School, and in particular that of Vitoria, receives a generally positive
appraisal.16 The latter is considered to be the ‘father of a new theological style’ who
did not shy away from ‘drinking from the waters of humanism’, understood theol-
ogy as a dynamic and ‘open science’ and engaged in an actualization of politics. This
was reflected in the fact that Vitoria had ‘contact with the reality of the concrete,
taking distance from the universalities that were considered more proper of medi-
eval thought’.17 In sum, the founder of the Salamanca School managed to combine
‘humanist demands together with dogmatic, ecclesiological, and Christian spiritu-
ality’, producing a syncretism of humanism and Thomism. His theology combined
the ‘Mystery of God’ with a ‘historical sense’. The result was a ‘practical fertility’
which possessed a ‘vital and anthropological orientation’, and constituted, in a nut-
shell, a ‘modernization of theology’.18 This new theology was humanist but not
Erasmian, although it fought against the ‘verbosismo’ and ‘abstractism’ so derided
by Northern humanists.19 The renowned historian of theology Melquiades Andrés
Cano thought that the greatest originality of the theology practised in the universi-
ties of Salamanca and Alcalá derived from the bringing together of philosophical
realism and nominalism, articulated in a theology that cares for each person.20
Vicente Muñoz Delgado also thought that Vitoria followed the inclination of the
Parisian Nominalists towards practical theology and that it is in this area in which
Vitoria’s fame is well deserved. He also regarded this as a sign that Vitoria adopted
Aquinas’s theology and not his philosophy. More critical than other commenta-
tors, this Professor of Logic and the Philosophy of Sciences at the University of
Salamanca for around forty years during the twentieth century took the view that
the return of the Salamanca School to Thomistic theology had occurred without
benefitting from the advances in science and logic that had taken place between the
thirteenth and the sixteenth centuries. Vitoria did not adapt Aquinas to the new
imago mundi.21 Teófilo Urdánoz also pinpointed an excessively intense nominalist

16  Among many others: ‘Así nació una fecunda generación teológica de buscadores incansables de
la verdad: la generación de Vitoria, Domingo de Soto, Andrés Vega’, Melquiades Andrés, ‘Facultades
de teología, planes de estudio y proyecto de hombre’, Scripta theologica 12 (1980), 161–​9, at p. 164.
17  Miguel Anxo Pena González, ‘La “Escuela de Salamanca”: un intento de delimitación del con-
cepto’, in Angel Poncela González (ed.), Escuela de Salamanca. Filosofía y Humanismo ante el Mundo
Moderno (2015), pp. 83–​129, pp. 91–​2.
18  Juan Belda Plans, ‘Teología práctica y Escuela de Salamanca del s. XVI’, Cuadernos Salmantinos
de Filosofía 30 (2003), 461–​89, at 468.
19  Juan Manuel Villanueva Fernández, ‘Erasmismo o teología española del siglo XVI?’ in Ruth Fine
and Santiago López Navia (eds.), Cervantes y las religiones (2008), pp. 301–​26. In Spain, the decadent
scholastic characterized by strong dialectic aspects that belongs to the historical context of Vitoria was
derisively labelled ‘teología verbosista’, see Juan Belda Plans, La Escuela de Salamanca y la renovación de
la teología en el siglo XVI (2000), at p. 44.
20  Andrés Cano, ‘Facultades de teología, planes de estudio y proyecto de hombre’, at 164–​5 (n. 16).
21  Vicente Muñoz Delgado, Lógica, ciencia y humanismo en la renovación teológica de Vitoria y Cano
(1980), at p. 49. For instance, he notes that in neither of his Relectiones de Indis does Vitoria offer any
commentary on the great significance of Colon’s discovery for European science, which he interprets as
a ‘divorce between theology and science’, at p. 47.
48

448 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

influence.22 Other theologians of the twentieth century castigated the theology

of the Salamanca School for developing ‘a lifeless rationalism’ and for professing a
‘theology of conclusions’.23 In spite of the references I have only found a passing
mention to the School of Salamanca in Henri de Lubac’s Le Mystère du Surnaturel.24
However, it is true that in that text the French theologian provided a forceful cri-
tique of an entire tradition of interpretation of Aquinas. Lubac regarded this as
erroneous and as establishing a division between ‘pure nature’ and ‘the supernatu-
ral’ that he also viewed Cajetan, Domingo de Soto, and Francisco Suárez as pursu-
ing.25 As we will see, one should also include Vitoria in Lubac’s list.
Adding to the scholarly debate among theologians as to where the Salamanca
School stands in the history of theology, several characteristics attract atention in
those texts that are of special interest for international law. This chapter focuses on
Vitoria’s commentaries on the Prima Secundae ‘On Law’, questions 90–​108, his
commentaries on the Secunda Secundae, questions on ‘Justice’, and the first Relectio
de Indis.
For a theologian who wanted to be involved in all human affairs Vitoria worked
with a surprisingly pessimistic anthropology, in which the will was not inclined to
natural law and natural law was not inserted in nature, despite the natural inclina-
tion to judge what is right.26 The objectivism of the Salamanca School to which
Richard Tuck refers in his classic work on natural rights,27 and which he ascribes
partly to their Thomism, seems to me to be more related to the firm guidance that
is demanded of natural law within the context of a negative anthropological vision

22  On the basis of a too ‘human’, in the sense of secular, approach in Vitoria’s Relection on Increase
and Diminution of Charity. Rovira Gaspar, in turn rejects this critique: see María del Carmen Rovira
Gaspar, ‘La influencia del nominalismo en el pensamiento de Francisco de Vitoria’, in Virginia Aspe
Armella and María Idoya Zorroza (eds.), Francisco de Vitoria en la Escuela de Salamanca y su proyección
en Nueva España (2014), pp. 61–​71.
23  On this allegation and the reference to L. Charlier and Henri de Lubac’s Le Mystère du Surnaturel,
see Luis Martinez Fernández, Sacra doctrina y progreso dogmático en los ‘Reportata’ inéditos de Juan de
Guevara: Dentro del Marco de la Escuela de Salamanca (1967), at p. 98; also Belda Plans, La Escuela de
Salamanca y la renovación de la teología en el siglo XVI, pp. 353–​4 (n. 19). Mártinez argues against the
critique: see pp. 203–​20, and also Belda, pp. 353–​60.
24  Henri de Lubac, Le Mystère du Surnaturel (1965).
25  This distinction between the natural and the spiritual man is also identified by Prodi as Cajetan’s
‘true renovation’ of Aquinas’s system: Paolo Prodi, Eine Geschichte der Gerechtigkeit. Vom Recht Gottes
zum modernen Rechtstaat, trans. Annette Seemam (2005), at p. 146. It appears that the debate con-
tinues on the basis of two positions that I have only cursively ascertained: on the one side, Lawrence
Feingold’s apology for Cajetan, in Lawrence Feingold, The Natural Desire to See God According to
St Thomas and his Interpreters (2010); and on the other, John Milbank attacks that apology as
‘palaelothic neo-​Thomism’ in John Milbank, The Suspended Middle: Henri de Lubac and the Debate
Concerning the Supernatural (2005).
26  Aquinas’s ‘natural law is to be found not in will but in reason’ amounts in Vitoria to natural law
being located in reason and not in the will ‘because the will is not inclined to natural law. But it is
proved that it is inclined to the contrary.’ Francisco de Vitoria, De legibus (2010), at p. 91; the second
point; ‘Non ergo dicitur lex naturalis quia insit nobis a natura, nam pueri non habent legem naturalem
nec habitum, sed quia ex inclinatione naturae iudicamus quae recta sunt, non quod insit qualitas a
natura.’ Vitoria, De legibus, q. 94, de lege naturali, at p. 122. Brett also notes this: see Annabel S. Brett,
Changes of State: Nature and the Limits of the City in Early Modern Natural Law (2001), at p. 12.
27  See Richard Tuck, Natural Rights Theories (1981), at p. 48.
 49

The First Relectio de Indis 449

of human beings. Furthermore, Vitoria displayed a clear focus on moral theology
and had a tendency to make theory of the concrete case, as Belda has aptly decribed
it.28 The ubiquity that Vitoria sought for the discipline of theology and the activity
of the theologian favoured these attitudes. He regarded all matters as being open
to theological reflection, as he argued in the introduction to De Indis and repeated
often in his works.29
Vitoria rarely speaks about truth. His theory of knowledge with direct influence
in the theory of practical reason seems to be more influenced by nominalism than
by Aquinas.30 For the latter, human beings participate in God’s cognition and that
is the science of theology, while it is highly improbable that Vitoria considered
theology a science in the classical sense.31 Aquinas also viewed the light of natural
reason that illuminates the first speculative and practical principles as participating
in the eternal law.32 Vitoria’s case is intriguing because he often referred to the light
of reason but his theory of knowledge did not evince a theory of participation.
As noted above, several of the features of Vitoria’s theology appeared in the work
of the Parisian Nominalists, and notably in that of Jean Gerson (1363–​1429).
Vitoria is usually connected with him due to the adoption by the Salamancan theo-
logian of Gerson’s notion of jus.33 It is that notion of jus as a subjective right and
Gerson’s ideas on conciliarism that have prompted historians of political theory
to revisit his work in the last few decades. The French theologian is viewed today

28  Belda Plans, ‘Teología práctica y Escuela de Salamanca del s. XVI’ (n. 19).
29  ‘sacra theologia non habet limites, quia non est homo qui in ea proficere non potest’. From
the prologue to the commentary on the Prima Pars, Summa Theologia, quoted in Simona Langella,
‘ “Apuntes” sobre el concepto de teología en Francisco de Vitoria’, Cuadernos Salmantinos de Filosofía
30 (2003), 277–​90; also ‘El oficio del teólogo es tan vasto, que ningún argumento, ninguna disputa,
ninguna materia, parecen ajenos as su profesión’, Francisco de Vitoria, ‘De la potestad civil’, in Luis
Getino (ed.), Derecho natural y de gentes, trans. with an introduction Eduardo de Hinojosa (1946), at p.
114; for comment on the historical context of this attitude, see Wim Decock, Theologians and Contract
Law, pp. 21–​104 (n. 6).
30  A good synthesis of Aquinas’s practical reason can be found in Michael Baur, ‘Law and Natural
Law’, and Thomas M. Osborne, Jr, ‘Practical Reasoning’ in Brian Davies and Eleonore Stump (eds.),
The Oxford Handbook of Aquinas (2012), pp. 238–​54, pp. 276–​86.
31  Martinez Fernández painstakingly attempted to demonstrate that he did: see Martinez Fernández,
Sacra doctrina y progreso dogmático en los ‘Reportata’ inéditos de Juan de Guevara, pp. 203–​20 (n. 23).
32  Sancti Thomaes de Aquino, Quaestiones disputatae de veritate, q. 14, <http://​www.corpusthom-
isticum.org>; John I. Jenkins, Knowledge and Faith in Thomas Aquinas (1997); John Finnis, Natural
Law and Natural Rights (2011), pp. 398–​402; Steven P. Marrone, ‘Scotus at Paris on the Criteria
for Scientific Knowledge’, in Stephen F. Brown, Thomas Dewender, and Theo Kobusch (eds.),
Philosophical Debates at Paris in the Early Fourteenth Century (2009), pp. 383–​400; Aristotle’s Posterior
Analytics, ed. and trans. E.S. Bouchier, B.A. (1901); Mark D. Jordan, ‘Theology as Speculative and
Practical in Thomas Aquinas’, in Reijo Työrinoja, Anja Inkeri Lehtinen, and Dagfinn Føllesdal (eds.),
Knowledge and the Sciences in Medieval Philosophy, vol. 3, 55 Annals of the Finnish Society for Missiology
and Ecumenics (1990), 430–​9; ‘And because this active force (the agent intellect) is a certain participa-
tion in the intellectual light of separated substances, the Philosopher compares it to a state and to light;
which would not be an appropriate way of describing it if it were itself a separate substance.’ Aristotle’s
De Anima in the Version of William Moerbeke and the Commentary of St. Thomas Aquinas, trans. Kenelm
Foster and Silvester Humphries, introduction by Ivo Thomas (1951), at p. 430.
33  See q. 62, art. 1, On Restitution, Vitoria, Comentarios a la Secunda Secundae de Santo Tomás,
at p.  64. Among others, see Tuck, Natural Rights (n. 27)  and Annabel Brett, Liberty Rights, and
Nature: Individual Rights in Later Scholastic Thought (2003).
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450 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

as one of those responsible for the advent of practical theology.34 His theological
method, again similarly to Vitoria’s, is described as a theology ‘closer to living expe-
rience’.35 Gerson also developed ‘an agenda for the theologian’, proposing reforms
in the study of theology to his mentor Pierre d’Ailly (1351–​1420) and the elimi-
nation of useless teachings, such as those related to definitions of God and of the
Trinity. In the same vein, Gerson emphasized moral theology, suggesting that not
only the first book of the Sentences by Peter Lombard would be lectured on, but
also the second, third, and fourth books, which are devoted to questions of morals
and Christian ethics.36 As a director of consciences he is thought to have coined
the term ‘moral certainty’.37 Gerson, who was perhaps a mystic,38 combined his
distrust about the judgments of reason, with the certainty that faith gives ‘because
only God is immobile, and constant and stable truth and a sure light’.39
Richard Tuck has identified the confluence of Gerson’s theology with his theory
about rights ‘in the belief that man’s relationship to the world is conceptually the same
as God’s,’ and in the manner that for Gerson God’s and man’s dominium are compa-
rable. Furthermore, Tuck also describes the fact that man’s free will ‘matched’ with the
arbitrary freedom of God’s will and stated that the covenant that Gerson saw existing
between God and man brought about rights for both sides.40 Together with his influ-
ential definition of jus, Gerson produced a concept of natural dominium as a power or
faculty that helped to explain how the unjust may have dominium over the just, or why
dominium continued in mortal sin.41
The twist that Vitoria added to Tuck’s accurate depiction of dominium in Gerson,
as a division of rights between God and humanity, was that of placing greater
emphasis on the enjoyment or on using the ‘right and dominium’ that God, ‘out of

34  Alf Härdelin, ‘Jean Gerson ou la théologie pratique en France et en Suède’, in Olle Ferm and Per
Förnegård, in cooperation with Huges Engel, Aällskapet Runica, and Mediaevalia (eds.), Regards sur la
France du Moyen Âge Mélanges offerts à Gunnel Engwall (2009), pp. 276–​97, at p. 281.
35  Brian Patrick McGuire, ‘Jean Gerson and the Renewal of Scholastic Discourse 1400-​1415’, in
Joseph Canning, Edmund King, and Martial Staub (eds.), Knowledge, Discipline and Power in the
Middle Ages: Essays in Honour of David Luscombe (2011), pp. 129–​44, at p. 129.
36  Both points in McGuire, ‘Jean Gerson and the Renewal of Scholastic Discourse 1400-​1415’, at
p. 131, pp. 142–​4.
37  Rudolf Schlüsser, ‘Jean Gerson, Moral Certainty and the Renaissance of Ancient Scepticism’,
Renaissance Studies 23 (2009), 445–​62.
38  Brian Patrick McGuire, Jean Gerson and the Last Medieval Reform (2005), pp. 350–​2.
39  ‘that there is no judgment of the right reason that is firm and obligatory, unless it is fixed (stabilia-
tur) by the first law and light’. ‘De vita spirituale animae’, in Oeuvres complètes [de] Jean Gerson, intro.,
texte et notes par Mgr Glorieux, vol. III, ed. Palémon Glorieux (1960–​1973) at p. 137. On the value
that Gerson attached to Saint Bonaventura’s Journey to God’s Mind, that constituted his favourite read-
ing for thirty years, see Inos Biffi, ‘San Bonaventura e la sapienza Cristiana’, in Inos Biffi and Constante
Marabelli (eds.), La Nuova Razionalità, XIII Secolo (2005), pp. 531–​96, at p. 554.
40  ‘quo pacto concipi posset absque juris et dominii alicujus collatione apud creaturam cui donatur
quoniam recta ratio dictat ut illud sit debitum et suum creaturae quod deus eidem conferre voluerit.’
Gerson,’De vita spirituale animae’ at p. 145 (n. 39). Tuck, Natural Rights, at p. 30 (n. 27).
41  ‘Ex his etiam patet dissolutio illus difficultatis quae multos turbat an injustus possit juste domi-
nari et an ex quocumpque peccato mortali perdatur continuo dominium; similiter quomodo apud
religiosos maneat et quomodo non maneat dominum supra res communes.’ Gerson, ‘De vita spirituale
animae’, at p. 145 (n. 39).
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The First Relectio de Indis 451

pure liberality’ gave to men.42 Perhaps more clearly than in other texts, in respect of
his commentary on the first article of question 62, Secunda secundae, one can speak
of a theology of possession in Vitoria. To ascertain whether Vitoria belonged to a
theological tradition that possibly reacted against an overly spiritualist conception
of how Christians related to the world or, less gloriously, whether he developed
a theology for a mercantile empire, requires a more intense engagement with his
sources.43 However, the fact is that the utilitarian aspect of his writings pops up in
different ways—​sometimes in a subtle manner, often quite explicitly.44

II.  Natural Good and Dispensation of Natural Law

In keeping with his entire oeuvre, notes by his students constitute the commentaries
by Vitoria to the Prima Secundae on Law, questions 90–​108.45 Examination of a
recent edition of those texts reveals that Vitoria comments on the text in his capac-
ity as a theologian and is almost entirely preoccupied with theological problems.
Thus the majority of the text deals solely with divine law, in its expressions of natu-
ral law, positive divine law, or ecclesiastical divine law.
The question of ‘whether the effect of law is to make men morally good’ was
one of the few instances in which Vitoria refers to human law. He distinguished
between virtue on the one hand and the good that is useful or delectable on the other,
and the conclusion of his analysis was that the human legislator also must make
citizens morally good.46 His discussion in De legibus shows that Vitoria employed
an understanding of the ‘natural good’ as useful and pleasant, and which amounts

42 ‘Non est potestas nisi a Deo (Rom. 13.1). Non est dubium. Ergo non haberem dominium mei
nisi ipse dedisset mihi, quia nullum potest esse dominium, quomodocumque capiatur dominium nisi
a Deo. Et quod dictum est, omnis potestas a Domino Deo est, potest dici de quocumque dominio.
Fuit ipse proprietarius omnium. An ergo dederit hominibus aliquod dominium rei.’ In the subsequent
discussion of the objections, Vitoria’s conclusion is that ‘[Deus] jus et dominium omnium dedit homi-
nibus’, ‘homo habet dominium omnium rerum’, Comentarios del maestro Francisco de Vitoria, O.P. a la
Secunda secundae de Santo Tomás, at pp. 69, 71, 73 (n. 10).
43 The second argument in Martti Koskenniemi, ‘The Political Theology of Trade Law: The
Scholastic Contribution’, in Ulrich Fastenrath, Rudolf Geiger, Daniel-​Erasmus Khan, Andreas Paulus,
Sabine von Schorlemer, and Christoph Vedde (eds.), From Bilateralism to Community Interest: Essays in
Honor of Bruno Simma (2011), pp. 90–​112.
44  That one of the main principles in Vitoria’s manner of theorizing is ‘utility’ has been observed
by others. See e.g. recently Campagna: ‘Wird Hobbes in seinem Leviathan sagen, dass es nicht die
Wahrheit sondern die Autorität ist, die ein Gesetz zum Gesetz, also zur verbindlichen Norm macht
(auctoritas, non veritas facit legem), so könnte man Vitorias Ansicht mit folgender Formel darstel-
len: utilitas, non sola iustitia facit legem.’ Norbert Campagna, Francisco de Vitoria: Leben und Werk. Zur
Kompetenz der Theologie in politischen und juridischen Fragen (2010), at p. 75.
45  One very comprehensive commentary among the numerous made in relation to the contextual
history of the University of Salamanca is that done by Barrientos García, Repertorio de Moral Económica
(1536-​1670), pp. 19–​122.
46  ‘Item probatur. Quia respublica ipsa habet auctoritatem inducendi homines ad virtutem, cum
habeat ad inducendum ad bonum utile et delectabile, quae sunt minora bona.’ Vitoria, De legibus, at
p. 114 (n. 26).
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452 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

to keeping oneself from destitution and indigence in the form of material poverty
or the loneliness of living like beasts.47
Against the background of his concern for natural law and reason stands the
fact that by using the terms ‘natural good’ and ‘moral good’ Vitoria designated
two different realities.48 This can also be seen in the subtle difference between his
definition of natural law and that of Aquinas. Aquinas stated that natural law is
that to which a human being is inclined by nature, and among those things is act-
ing according to reason.49 The theologian of Salamanca considered that natural
law does not form part of nature, because children do not have it. But he regarded
it as natural because from a natural inclination we judge what is right.50 Vitoria
associated ‘natural good’ with the physical and affective needs of human beings
and ‘moral good’ with reason and natural law. Once this methodological princi-
ple is grasped one ascertains that it radically transforms Vitoria’s endorsements of
Aristotle’s and Aquinas’s teachings, which are present in almost every page of his
writings. Clearly, Vitoria did not theorize about natural law to the same level of
complexity as evinced by the writings of Aquinas, who produced an almost impos-
sible balance, both ontologically dependent on the eternal law and autonomous
from it.51 To be sure, wherever Aquinas’s natural law is discussed there is scope for
debate.52 But it is clear that Aquinas’s system melts away without the foundation
of the eternal law, while Vitoria’s does not: the ‘sensitive nature’ would remain.53

47  For instance, when he is adducing the argument against it: ‘Quia finis regis idem est sicut finis
civitatis et reipublicae, cuius finis est; quia unus homo non sufficit sibi soli, ideo non degunt in monte
sicut ferae, quia unus indiget multis et non potest omnia. Unde non posset homo vivere solus, sed
indigent adiuvari invicem. Videtur ergo quod civitas non est congragata per bonum morale, sed prop-
ter istam indigentiam. Sed idem est finis civitatis et legislatoris. Ergo finis et intentio legislatoris non
est inducere homines ad bonum morale, sed ad bonum naturale, et ad cavendum illam indigentiam.’
Q. 92, Vitoria, De legibus, at p. 110 (n. 26). See also ‘Sed si leges nihil aliud faciunt quam commodum
naturale, quare qui resisteret regi ressiteret dei ordinationi?’, at p. 115.
48  ‘sed de civile est dubium, utrum intentio regis debeat esse quod faciat bonos, an divites, an incol-
umes’, Vitoria, De legibus, at p. 110 (n 26).
49  Thomae de Aquino, Summa theologiae, Iª-​IIae q. 94 a. 4 co. This can be found at <http://​www.
corpusthomisticum.org/​iopera.html>.
50  ‘Non ergo dicitur lex naturalis quia insit nobis a natura, nam pueri non habent legem naturalem
nec habitum, sed quia ex inclinatione naturae iudicamus quae recta sunt, non quod insit qualitas a
natura.’, q. 94, de lege naturali, lec. 123, Vitoria, De legibus, at p. 122 (n. 26). The classic discussion of
the difference also in Daniel Deckers, Gerechtigkeit und Recht. Eine historische-​kritische Untersuchung
der Gerechtigkeitslehre des Francisco de Vitoria (1483-​1546) (1991), pp. 111–​19.
51  However, Deckers refers also to ‘die Komplexität, aber auch die mangelnde Stringenz der vito-
rianischen Theorie des lex naturalis’ insofar that Vitoria wanted to endorse the incompatible positions
of, on the one hand, the moderni (the nominalists and Scotus, I assume) and their emphasis in the
potentia absoluta of God, and, on the other, of teleological conceptions of epistemology and natural law.
Deckers, Gerechtigkeit und Recht, pp. 123–​4 (n. 50).
52  For a treatment of the topic, see Denis J.M. Bradley, Aquinas on the Twofold Human Good (1997);
and Jan A. Aertsen, Medieval Philosophy as Transcendental Thought: From Philip the Chancellor (c. 1225)
to Francisco Suárez (2012), at pp. 264–​6, and ch. 6 generally. This question was the subject of several
interpretations (Jacques Maritain, Etienne Gilson, Cornelio Fabro) during the twentieth century. For
a helpful review of the positions involved, see Joseph Owens, ‘Aquinas on Knowing Existence’, The
Review of Metaphysics 29 (1976), 670–​90.
53  Aquinas’s argument in this regard is most conspicuous in Prima Secunda, q. 106, a. 1 co, and ad 1,
on the New Law or the Law of the Gospel that Aquinas considered to be inserted in our hearts (lex
nova est indita homini).The opposite extreme can be found in Vitoria’s Reflection on Homicide: ‘What
 453

The First Relectio de Indis 453

Deckers saw in that dualism of the Salamancan theologian an anthropology that
has its roots in ancient philosophy, but is not Christian.54 It seems defensible to
view the issue as being entangled, above anything, within a history of theology, and
as having further ramifications. The latter includes the separation between the finis
naturalis and the finis supernaturalis, and the distinction between the man of nature
(in puribus naturalibus) who does not desire God and, interestingly, the man of nat-
ural law and grace (cum virtutibus infuses) who does. Vitoria, for one, placed pru-
dence partly within the sensitive nature.55 In the end it does not come as a surprise
that the ‘state of nature’ has a place in the system of the of Salamanca’s theologian.56
But Vitoria’s conception of two natures is a source of theoretical and pragmatic
conundrums, such as that the desire of man ‘in puribus naturalibus’, since it is

remains now is that we answer in some way the arguments on the other side. In doing this, we must
first remember that human beings are composed of two natures: rational and sensitive. The Apostle
[Paul], in Romans 12 calls these “the interior and the exterior man”. This is not to be understood in
such a way that the soul itself is the interior man or the rational nature while the body is the sensitive
nature. Rather the whole man according to the spirit is the interior man, and the same man according
to the flesh is the exterior man and the sensitive nature. Secondly, we should note that because man
is man precisely inasmuch as he is rational and not inasmuch as he is sensitive: the inclination of a
man precisely as such is the inclination of a man inasmuch as he is a man, namely, the inclination of
will and intellect, and not the inclination of the sensitive part, which is not the inclination of man,
or not insofar as he is man, but only to a certain extent and not simply as such.’ Francisco de Vitoria,
Reflection on Homicide and Commentary on Summa theologiae IIa –​IIae q. 64, trans. and introduction
John P. Doyle (1997), at p. 69. Vitoria also stood at the opposite pole to the naturalist anthropology of
Albert the Great who espoused a theory of penetration of reason in the entire human being, soul, body,
and senses: see, for this, Georg Wieland, Zwischen Natur und Vernunft. Alberts des Großen Begriff vom
Menschen (Lectio Albertina 2) (1999).
54  See Deckers, Gerechtigkeit und Recht, at pp. 117–​18 (n. 50).
55  On this point, in Vitoria’s critique of Scotus’s statement that God is the natural end of human
being, see the following: ‘Ad argumentum ergo principale nego quod Deus est finis naturalis hominis’;
also ‘Secundo negatur quod homo desideret naturaliter videre Deum, sed tamen conceditur quod
appetitus est inquietus usque dum Deum videamus.’ Both quotes are from the manuscripts of Vitoria’s
commentary on the Summa in Langella, ‘ “Apuntes” sobre el concepto de teología en Francisco de
Vitoria’, at 284, 287. See Gerson, ‘quod homo qui subsistit ex duplici substantia, una spirituali, aeterna
divináque, alia corporali et mortali, duplicem habet finem, unum supernaturalem, alium naturalem,
qui humanus potest dici seu politicus et civilis’: Gerson, ‘De vita spiritual animae’ at 133. Gilby men-
tions how Aquinas had noted that ‘the notion of the “political” or “civil” ’ is taken by Aristotle and the
jurists in different senses; ‘to a social philosopher the meaning is more comprehensive, since he sees
laws which are the bond of political association stemming from moral imperatives rather than the
regulations men make for themselves.’ Thomas Gilby O.P. ‘Introduction’ to Summa Theologiae, vol. 28
(Ia2ae. 90–​97) Law and Political Theory, trans. and intro. Thomas Gilby (1966), at p. xxii. Interestingly
this suggests that Aristotle is more comprehensive with his notion of ‘the political’ than the theologian
Gerson. For Vitoria on prudence, see Comentarios del maestro Francisco de Vitoria, O.P. a la Secunda
secundae de Santo Tomás, qq. 45–​55, 348–​88.
56  ‘Contra quos S. Thomas dicit quod saepissime oportet uti rationibus ad multa quae, dato in auc-
toritate divina fundetur, tamen non possunt per illam immediate probari. Et hoc probat optime quia
gratia nihil derogat naturae: ergo aliquando est utendum rationibus, sicut uteabantur in statu naturae.’
Langella, ‘ “Apuntes” sobre el concepto de teología en Francisco de Vitoria’, at p. 288. This stands in
contrast to other theologians such as Albert the Great, who explicitly denied that there was ever a ‘state
of nature’. For instance, in his first commentary on Nichomachean Ethics Albert clarifies that Cicero’s
‘natural man’ never existed, but his was only a manner of speaking ‘ex hypothesi’: ‘Et similiter dicendum
est ad tertium de silvestribus hominibus, quod habent ordinem naturalem, si tamen ponuntur esse;
non enim videtur, quod homines umquam silvestres fuerunt; Tullius autem loquitur ex hipothesi.’
Alberti Magni, Super ethica, vol. 1, ed. Wilhelm Kübel (1968–​1972), p. 17.1.
45

454 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

not spiritual, appears to lie outside the scope of evil.57 This makes one wonder how
to know to what lengths natural needs might extend.
That predicaments arise with regard to boundaries within this conception of sepa-
rated ‘sensitive nature’ and ‘rational nature’ in parallel with a ‘natural good’, as utiles
or delectabiles, separate from the ‘moral good’, is plain in Vitoria’s discussion of the
dispensability of natural law on article 8 of question 100:  ‘whether the articles of
the Decalogue are dispensable’. The Dominican connected article 8 with two other
instances, one located earlier and the other later in the text. Previously, in question 94,
article 5, on ‘whether the natural law can be changed or altered’, Vitoria had explicitly
directed the reader to question 100, since Aquinas understood the Decalogue to be an
expression of natural law.58 Next, Vitoria linked article 8 substantially with his remark-
able solution in question 105, article 2: ‘Whether the Judicial precepts were suitably
framed as to the relations of one people with another’ by touching again upon the issue
of dispensation of the law.
In the commentary on the question about the dispensability of the precepts of the
Decalogue, Vitoria starts by expounding Aquinas’s teaching in the Summa, which left
little room for ambiguity. Since ‘the precepts of the Decalogue embody the actual
intention of the lawgiver, God’, Aquinas concluded that ‘they admit of no dispen-
sation whatever’.59 Vitoria’s personal commentary would revolve around the opin-
ions of William of Ockham and Pierre d’Ally, John Duns Scotus, and Durandus of
Saint Pourçain and was an opportunity to display his theological skills. Notoriously,
Ockham and d’Ally considered that God could make a dispensation of any precepts of
the Decalogue and even command human beings to hate Him with merit.60 Vitoria
firmly denied the truth of this position.
Scotus’s intermediary position was regarded as ‘probable’.61 God could not
exempt anyone from the precepts of the first table, related to piety towards God,
but He could do so with those of the second table that were about relations between
human beings. For Scotus, in Vitoria’s reading, everything that God operated
ad extra He wanted in a contingent manner. He wanted homicide to be a sin,
but He could have wanted otherwise, and in fact He had relaxed these precepts
occasionally—​for instance when He ordered Abraham to kill his son Isaac.62 But

57  Or at least only ‘per accidens est malum aliquando. Sed ista inclinatio non est absoluta hominis
ut homo est, sed secundum quid ut animal est.’ Commentary Summa Theologia, IIa-​IIae, q.26.a.3.n.2,
quoted in Deckers, Gerechtigkeit und Recht, at p. 119 (n. 50).
58 Vitoria, De legibus, Question 100, Art. 1, at p. 191 (n. 26).
59  St Thomas Summa Theologiae, vol. 29. (Ia2ae. 98–​105), The Old Law, q. 100, art. 8, translated
with an introduction and notes by David Bourke and Arthur Littledale (2006), at pp. 91–​3. Aquinas
elaborated further on this issue in De malo q. 3, but it is not possible to discuss it here.
60  An analysis of this idea can be found in John Kilcullen, ‘Natural Law and Will in Ockham’, in
Knud Haakonssen and Udo Thiel (eds.), History of Philosophy Yearbook vol. 1 (1993).
61  Together with that of Aquinas, which is ‘the most probable’, Vitoria, De legibus, at p. 206 (n. 26).
62  ‘Item Deus dispensavit aliquando in adulterio, furto et homicidio. Primo cum Abraham quod
occideret Isaac innocentem. Non fuit mutata res, sed lex.’ at p. 202. Vitoria adopted the question of
the deaths of innocents for his Relectio de iure belli: ‘Per accidens autem etiam scienter aliquando licet
interficere innocentes, puta cum oppugnatur arx aut civitas iuste, in qua tamen constat esse multos
innocentes nec possunt machinae solvi vel alia telva vel ignis aedificiis subici quin etiam opprimantur
innocentes sicut nocentes’, Francisco de Vitoria, Relectio de iure Belli of Paz dinámica. Escuela española
 45

The First Relectio de Indis 455

Vitoria countered this opinion, with Durandus’s terminist argument that if it were
licit to take someone’s goods, then terminologically they would no longer belong
to anyone but be commonly held. Thus that act would not amount to theft, and a
similar argument held true for homicide, adultery, and other sins.63
Vitoria’s novel approach to resolving the contradictions between Aquinas and
Scotus was to introduce the distinction of the two perfections of the ‘omnipotent
God’: the lord and the legislator.64 That was a sign that he was using what has been
called Ockhamist theology, with its characteristic methodology of employing the
notion of an ‘omnipotent God’ in order to know what was or was not necessary in
the created world and therefore, in this case, which natural law could be the object
of dispensation.65 Acting not as legislator but as lord over human lives and created
goods God could order Abraham to kill the innocent without relaxing the law. ‘If
I had a similar right over the life of a man as over the life of a horse, could I not
kill him with impunity, even though I am not a legislator?’ asked the theologian.66
Moreover, God the lord could give anyone a woman—​anything, in fact—​without
relaxing the law, as God did, when He ordered the prophet Oseas to take a woman
without marrying her and he would take the woman ‘with more right than if he
were to marry her’.67
Continuing with the issue of dispensation in the third occurrence in De legibus,
Vitoria asked in question 105, article 2 whether a prince could re-​enact an ancient law
in order to govern the city. The difficulty here was that some of the laws in question
went against natural law, covering such matters as the promotion of polygamy, the
killing of the innocent and so on. The first reply of the Salamancan theologian was

de la paz, primera generación, 1526–​1560, L. Pereña, V. Abril, C. Baciero, A. García, and F. Maseda
(1981), at p. 166.
63 Vitoria, De legibus, pp. 200–​2 (n. 26). Vitoria often had recourse to terminist argumentation.
Colish observes that the ‘central conviction uniting late medieval terminists was the view that the
only grammatical contexts in which supposited terms are meaningful are full propositions’. Marcia
L. Colish, Medieval Foundations of the Western Intellectual Tradition, 400-​1400 (1997), pp. 302–​15.
64  ‘Pro solutione nota quod Deus omnipotens duo habet. Primum quos est dominus omnium;
secundum, quod est legislator. Et haenc sunt distincta. Ex inconsideratione horum mult erraverunt in
his argumentis. Hoc supposito, opportet videre quod potest Deus facere inquantum dominus, etiamsi
non esset legislator; ut si Pater esset dominus solum, et Filius legislator, Pater posset dare mihi omnia
bona mundi, quamvis mihi prohiberet Filius ne furarer. Et non esset dispensatio quando Pater dare
omnia bona mundi.’ Vitoria, De legibus, at p. 204 (n. 26).
65  The emphasis on logic, the denial of the status of knowledge or science both to speculative and
practical theology, together with the introduction of the ‘potentia absoluta’ as a methodological princi-
ple applied in order to know what is or is not necessary in the created world are core elements of what
Biard calls ‘Ockhamist theology’. See Joël Biard, ‘Guglielmo di Ockham e la teologia’, in Inos Biffi and
Constante Marabelli (eds.), Figure del Pensiero Medievale: La Via Moderna –​XIV e inizi del XV secolo
(2010), pp. 1–​59, at p. 57. On the fact that potentia absoluta was a much discussed issue in Ockham’s
time, see Eugenio Randi, ‘Ockham, John XXII and the Absolute Power of God’, 46 Franciscan Studies,
William of Ockham (1285-​1347) Commemorative Issue (1986), 205–​16.
66  ‘Ideo ego dico, si ego haberem tamtum jus super vitam hominis sicut super vitam equi mei,
nonne possem occidere impune, etiamsi non essem legislator? (…) Dico ergo quod nulla fuit dispen-
satio, quia Deus usus est non auctoritate legislatoris, sed domini. Nec cum Samsone fuit dispensatio,
sed fecit sicut fortis vir ut occideret multos inspiratus a Deo.’ Vitoria, De legibus, at p. 206 (n. 26).
67  ‘Immo meliori iure accedebat ad illam quam si contraxisset cum ea.’ Vitoria, De legibus, at p.
204 (n. 26).
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456 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

that only God could do that, but not man. However, this reply gave rise to a problem
of incapability for the worldly prince. The prince sometimes needed to enact laws that
were useful but not in accordance with natural law. However, since the prince could not
revoke natural law, Vitoria advanced the possible objection that might be made to the
effect that ‘if this is true, it follows that the prince has not sufficient authority to enact
useful laws (leges utile) in the government of the political community’.68
Thus Vitoria’s answer was as follows:
That is why the second proposition is: What is contrary to natural law cannot be always and
universally beneficial for the political community. In this manner, the authority of the king
that cannot make a dispensation of natural law is not diminished in the least. Moreover, the
political community cannot subsist without natural law that was instituted for its benefit; in
this sense what is contrary to natural law cannot be universally useful for the political com-
munity. However, in a concrete case, at a certain moment and for a particular nation that
which is contrary to natural law can be useful.69
This response is in my view ambiguous. It presents as fact drawn from experience that
natural law and utility as good might disagree, but with the caveat that they can do
so not as a rule but occasionally. However, Vitoria’s answer is consistent, inevitable,
and, in a sense, representative of the dissonances creeping into a theology that divided
human nature into two. Taking into account Vitoria’s theology of the concrete case
it is illustrative of the manner in which he solved, or rather left open the question of a
moral dilemma around the years 1533 to 1534, during which he commented for the
first time on the Prima Secunda.70 A matter that is obviously contrary to natural law,
but which may in a concrete case also be useful to the political community, and is not
allowed to become the rule, reveals itself as neither the trigger of a moral dilemma nor
a sin, but a theological positive institution—​a ‘dispensation of natural law’ that God
can accomplish. What did that mean to the prince? Vitoria stopped short of answer-
ing that question. In my view Campagna reads too much into this passage when he
writes that ‘here he (Vitoria) distinguishes between the punctual and useful violation
and the damage that would occur due to the general violation, with the result that
the punctual violation also ought not to be allowed’.71 Some years later Vitoria would
approach the moral dilemma with a real situation in mind.

68  ‘Sed dicetis, si hoc est verum, sequitur quod princeps non habet sufficientem auctoritatem con-
dendi leges utiles ad regimen reipublicae.’ Vitoria, De legibus, at p. 264 (n. 26).
69  Vitoria continues: ‘ut patet de pluritate uxorum, quae est contra jus naturale, tum propter
concordiam familiae et educationem liberorum, tum quia unus non potest bene sufficere pluri-
bus uxoribus. Item interficere innocentes non potest esse universaliter utile reipublicae, sed bene
pro tempore, qui illi amalechitae erant impii et inimici Dei, et Deus volebat omnino eos delere ut
nec semen eorum remaneret.’ Vitoria, De legibus, p. 264 (n. 26). (Footnotes omitted, emphasis
added.)
70  ‘Immanuel Kant’s denial that duties can conflict and John Stuart Mill’s claim in Utilitarianism
that moral conflicts can be solved by appeals to the notion of utility are perhaps the best-​known exam-
ples from modern philosophy of the rejection of the existence of moral dilemmas.’ M.V. Dougherty,
Moral Dilemmas in Medieval Thought: From Gratian to Aquinas (2011), at p. 117. The text published by
Langella, Barrientos García, and García Castillo is the first commentary on the Prima Secunda, for the
years 1533–​1534, Simona Langella, ‘Estudio Introductorio’, in De legibus, at p. 27 (n. 26).
71 Campagna, Francisco de Vitoria, pp. 77–​9 (n. 44).
 457

The First Relectio de Indis 457

III.  De Indis

Stiening has wondered why Vitoria generated a special problem for theology out
of the legal-​political debate revolving around the Indians. Since the Salamancan
theologian had frequently asserted that civil laws were binding in conscience, also
in his commentary on the Summa, the recourse to theology, his turning towards
that discipline for the whole issue, was so to speak superfluous.72 From the outset,
Vitoria’s theological De Indis dovetails with the argument of this chapter that Vitoria
had a style of doing theology that tended to include any morally relevant issue as
being within the competence of the theologian.73 This methodological approach,
in which any issue can become theology, can be usefully compared with an author
closer to our time. In a similar manner to that in which Carl Schmitt stated that
any matter could be political, Vitoria argued that practically any matter could be
theological and therefore fall within the remit of the moral theologian. Schmitt’s
well-​known theoretical frame for his definition of the political is the capacity for
distinguishing between friend and enemy:
Every religious, moral, economic, ethical or other antithesis transforms into a political one if
it is sufficiently strong to group human beings effectively according to friend and enemy.74
Although there is no such elaborate treatment of the criteria for ‘the theological’ in
Vitoria’s work, he came close to articulating his scientific criteria, which he intro-
duced as an expert’s statement, in De Indis. In his commentary on the Prima Pars,
Vitoria used an argument of benefit, presumably for the soul: ‘sacred theology has
not limits, because there is no man that cannot benefit from it’.75 At the beginning
of the Relectio de Indis he was more specific, stating that:
[I]‌n matters which concern salvation there is an obligation to believe those whom the
Church has appointed as teachers, and in cases of doubt their verdict is law. Just as a judge
in a court law is obliged to pass sentence according to the evidence presented, so in the court

72  Gideon Stiening, ‘Nach göttlichen oder menschlichen Gesetzen? Zum Verhältnis von Theologie
und Philosophie in De Indis’, in Norbert Brieskorn, Gideon Stiening (eds.), Francisco de Vitorias De
Indis in interdisziplinäre Perspektive (2011), p. 3, pp. 123–​51, at p. 131.
73  Vitoria simply offers a theological justification for that theologization. The affair of the Indians
was in his view a matter of divine law. Since it was impossible to find any valid positive law on the ques-
tion, jurists were ‘not sufficiently versed to define the question’: Vitoria, ‘De Indis recenter inventis’, at
p. 222 (n. 9). In the words of Andrés Martín, Vitoria ‘was not a moralist and a jurist’ and, one should
add, an economist, ‘in spite of being a theologian but as a result of being theologian’: Melquiades
Andrés Martín, La teología española en el s. XVI, vol. 2 (1977) at p. 358. See also the commentary by
Langella, ‘ “Apuntes” sobre el concepto de teología en Vitoria’ (n. 29); and Campagna, Francisco de
Vitoria, pp. 35–​49 (n. 44).
74  Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political, trans. and ed. Georg Schwab (2007), p. 37.
75  Quoted in Langella, ‘ “Apuntes” sobre el concepto de teología en Vitoria’, at p. 279 (n. 29). The
dates of the commentary of the Prima Pars are 1531–​1533 and 1539–​1540, see Augusto Sarmiento,
‘Lecturas inéditas de F. De Vitoria: bases para la edición crítica’, Scripta Theologica 12 (1980/​82),
575–​92, at 582
458

458 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

of conscience every man must decide not according to his own inclination, but by logical
argument or the authority of the learned.76
Not altogether surprisingly, the criteria for the theological appears in the space
where we are dealing with ‘matters which concern salvation’. But where Schmitt
found ‘the political’ in the existential and thus unalienable decision to judge
whether the other was one’s enemy or friend, it was characteristic of Vitoria that he
thought that the decision of ‘the theological’ was transferable. The text in which he
stated as much may be translated in painfully literal fashion:
Since a question de foro conscientiae is raised, it concerns the priests, that is, the Church, to
lay down the rule.77
The Latin expression de foro conscientiae retains the sense of locality and thus,
in an interesting way, of the jurisdiction that Vitoria was reclaiming. He estab-
lished it in contradistinction to matters de foro contentioso.78 Methodologically,
therefore, beyond the substantial matters strictly belonging to the province of
theologians, Vitoria’s idea in De Indis was that if any matter was raised or could
be raised with regard to conscience and salvation there was an issue for the
theologian. This chimes with his argument for an all-​encompassing discipline of
theology and, historically, with the manner in which Imperial Spain had been
vacillating over its plans of Conquista due to a troubled conscience.79 Only now
the ultimate foundation of knowledge is not in terms of theology but of the
theologian.

76  Translation in English from Anthony Padgen and Jeremy Lawrance, Vitoria: Political Writings
(1991), pp. 233–​92, pp. 235–​6 (emphasis added).
77  ‘Nec satis scio an unquam ad disputationem et determinationem huius quaestionis vocati
fuerint theologi digni, qui audiri de tanta re possent. Et cum agatur de foro conscientiae, hoc spec-
tat ad sacerdotes, i.e. ad Ecclesiam, diffinire.’ Vitoria, ‘De Indis recenter inventis’, at p. 222 (n. 9).
Diffinire is defined as ‘to lay down a rule’, in the Oxford Latin Dictionary (1982). Other definitions
mentioned there include: ordain, bound, fix, limit, restrict, confine. Campagna notes that Vitoria
doubted both the competence of jurists and that of the other theologians that had dealt with the
question. Vitoria, ‘De Indis recenter inventis’, at p. 222 (n. 9); Campagna, Francisco de Vitoria, at
p. 174 (n. 44).
78  On the history of these plurality of fora, see Prodi, Una storia della giustizia: Dal pluralismo deo
fori al moderno dualismo tra conscienza. I have used the German translation, which loses the idea of the
fora in the title; Prodi, Eine Geschichte der Gerechtigkeit: Vom Recht Gottes zum modernen Rechtstaat (n.
25). For an explanation of the implications of the differences of fora in circumstances of dominium, see
Jörg A. Tellkamp, ‘Vitorias Weg zu den legitimen Titeln der Eroberung Amerikas’, in Kirstin Bunge,
Anselm Spindler, and Andreas Wagner (eds.), Die Normativität des Rechts bei Francisco de Vitoria
(2011), pp. 147–​70. Half a century later, Alberico Gentili’s theory on the question was that no one
but God judged the conscience; theologians interpreted God’s commands but jurists acquired a much
greater role in helping to interpret anything that was juridical, so that, in fact, they ought to be inter-
preters on matters of the second table of the Decalogue: see Giovanni Minnucci, ‘Foro della coscienza e
foro esterno nel pensiero giuridico della prima età moderna’, in Gerhard Dilcher and Diego Quaglioni
(eds.), Gli inizi del diritto pubblico, 3 Verso la costruzione del diritto pubblico tra medioevo e modernità
(2009), pp. 55–​86.
79  To mention only one example, as late as 3 July 1549—​that is, ten years after the Relectio de Indis
was given—​the Council of the Indies advised the King to prohibit the granting of permission for new
expeditions due to the great dangers involved for ‘the bodies of the Indians’ and ‘the King’s conscience’.
Accordingly, the Council concluded that a new meeting of theologians and jurists had to take place in
order to discuss ‘how conquests may be conducted justly and with security of conscience’. The Council
 459

The First Relectio de Indis 459

Vitoria’s standpoint was remarkable in that it involved wresting authority from
the Church and giving it to the expert theologian.80 At any rate the idea that an
external source could adjudicate over one’s salvation in a concrete case did not sit
well with the official doctrine of the Catholic Church at that or any other time.
A century earlier John de Capistrano (1386–​1456), in his Speculum Conscientiae,
had identified personal communication with God as the last resort to obtain wis-
dom when suffering doubts of conscience. Wisdom was to be asked for personally
from God, above the counsel of the experts (peritiores), and even above the author-
ity of the Church.81 The issue, after all, was that of recognizing truth.82 Here more
than anywhere the distance between Vitoria and Aquinas is clear. The latter thought
that prudence always assists the practical intellect in perplexing situations.83
Against Capistrano and Aquinas, Vitoria gracelessly ‘forced a theologisation’—​to
use Stiening’s words—​of the political and moral question revolving around the
conquest of the Indies, only to envelope it in the voluntarist discussion over what
criteria should be applied in cases of moral uncertainty.84 It is probably not neces-
sary to produce a history of theology as a science in order to note that when Vitoria
referred solely to rationalist arguments and to authority (‘per rationem probabilem’
or ‘per auctoritatem sapientum’) as the basis for deciding on matters of conscience,
he was partaking of the logicism and the theory of knowledge characteristic, again,

thus prepared the way for the well-​known debate involving Bartolomé de las Casas and Juan Ginés
de Sepúlveda. See Lewis Hanke, The Spanish Struggle for Justice in the Conquest of America (1949), pp.
115–​32, at p. 116.
80  Vitoria is here reinterpreting a tradition that defends an elitist conception of theologians as bear-
ers of a lumen medium, between the common light of faith and the light of glory. This tradition goes
back at least to Henry of Ghent. See for this, Marialucrezia Leone, ‘Moral Philosophy of Henry of
Ghent’, in Gordon A. Wilson (ed.), A Companion to Henry of Ghent (2011), pp. 275–​314.
81  Capistrano declared the hierarchy to be applied when deciding on the basis of an erroneous
conscience. Firstly, following Aquinas, one had to listen to one’s conscience, even though it is erro-
neous. Next, one needed to try to overcome error: ‘Ratione autem ipsius conscientiae, erronea con-
scientiae ligat vinculo conscientiae ad faciendum quod dictat, nec tamen est simpliciter perplexus,
quia potest et debet deponere talem erroneam conscientiam. Et ideo simpliciter & proprius &
magis ligatur ad deponendum eam quàm ad faciendum secundum eam. & si de illa per se nesciat
iudicare, debet peritiores consulere, & saltem recurrere ad ecclesiam si non posset aliter declarari.
Et quod auctoritas ecclesiae roborat & declarat, idinconcussè ab omnibus catholicis est servandum,
ut in capitu. firmiter, extra de summa Tinitate (sic), & fide catholi & in capitulo debitum, & in c.
maiores, extra de baptis. & eius effec. Et si tandem omne sibi consilioum deficeret humanum, debet se
per orationem ad Deum convertere, iuxta illud Iac. 1. Si quis autem vestrum indiget sapientia, postulet
eam a Deo, qui dat omnibus affluenter, & non improperat, & dabitur ei: postulet autem in fide, nihil
hesitans.’ Speculum Conscientiae. Tractatu universi Iuris, duce et auspice Gregorio XIII Pontifice Maximo
in unum congesti I (Venice, 1584), pp. 323, 73, at p. 328 (emphasis added). Vitoria’s standpoint also
glossed over the evolution that occurred in the Middle Ages towards less juridification and more
subjectivization in matters of conscience, Marie-Dominique Chenu, L’éveil de la conscience dans la
civilisation médiévale (1969), especially pp. 1–​32. In language typical of the 1960s, Chenu speaks of
the ‘rights of conscience’, at p. 29.
82 Compare with the interpretation of Capistrano by Prodi, Eine Geschichte der Gerechtigkeit,
pp. 142–​7 (n. 25).
83  See M.V. Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas in Medieval Thought (2013), pp. 112–​44 (n. 70). For
a comparison between Aquinas and voluntarist discussions of moral uncertainty, see Ilkka Kantola,
Probability and Moral Uncertainty in Late Medieval and Early Modern Times (1994).
84  Stiening, ‘Nach göttlichen oder menschlichen Gesetzen?’, at p. 148 (n. 72).
460

460 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

of Ockhamist theology.85 In the face of that distrust as to the possibility of reaching

truth through the illumination of practical reason, or, in other words, as to every
human being’s existential union with God, Vitoria’s yearning for authority is linked
to a characteristic and unbending fidelity to the Catholic Church.86
To sum up, Vitoria’s formula of the ‘theological’ was a decision founded on exter-
nal authority which can be put in parallel with Schmitt’s existential decision in ‘the
political’. Viewed in this particular light of the ‘theological’, Vitoria’s expert judg-
ment in De Indis contains some interesting nuances.
De Indis was not the result of smooth reportage of the facts of the case. In fact, a
misrepresentation of reality in the description of the nature of the relations between
Spaniards and Indians is its most striking feature. The turning point of the text is
most intense in the justification of the first just title by which the Indians ‘passed
under the rule of the Spaniards’:
Amongst all nations it is considered inhuman to treat strangers and travellers badly without
some special cause, humane and dutiful to behave hospitably to strangers. (…) [i]‌t would
not be lawful for the French to prohibit Spaniards from travelling or even living in France,
or vice versa, so long as it caused no sort of harm to themselves; therefore it is not lawful for
the barbarians either.87
This depiction of the Indians during the Spanish Conquista as equal members of a
universal society has given rise to an array of conflicting interpretations and contin-
ues to puzzle any reader that approaches the text today. Much of the Spanish and
North American commentary during the twentieth century simply ignored the
problematic aspects of Vitoria’s presentation of facts and highlighted his humanist
argumentation. More recent and critical comments have involved a range of inter-
pretations. Some view it as anti-​imperialism—​the empire in denial—​founded on
the threat that the empire, as the Salamancan theologians understood it, posed to
the true nature of the civil community. Others have considered it a description of
over-​inclusive imperialism, and thus cynicism, or have thought of it, more moder-
ately, as a ‘familiar irony’.88

85  See Biard: ‘So an “Ockhamist theology” was born, in which the essential perhaps passed into the
background, and the explosion of theology as a scientific discipline occurred to facilitate the diversified
use of reason in examining multiple questions and judgments that could be relevant to human salva-
tion.’ Biard, ‘Guglielmo di Ockham e la teologia’, p. 59 (n. 65).
86  Distrust in the potential for reason to attain the truth or know God is among the features that
Garcia-​Villoslada detected in the Parisian nominalist professors, teachers of Vitoria, Ricardo G.
Villoslada, La Universidad de Paris durante los estudios de Francisco de Vitoria O.P. (1507-​1522) (1938),
pp. 73–​92; but see p. 92.
87 Vitoria, Political Writings, at p. 278 (n. 76). The second redaction of the Relectio, considered by
Luciano Pereña the most significant for Vitoria’s new proposal is entirely written in this spirit of misrep-
resentation of facts, see ‘Hipótesis de Francisco de Vitoria: jus naturalis societatis et communicationis.
Primera versión del ms de Palencia, in Luciano Pereña (ed.), Escuela de Salamanca: Carta Magna de los
Indios –​Fuentes Constitucionales 1534-​1609 (1988), pp. 50–​5. The views of Pereña in Luciano Pereña,
‘Proyecto de reconversión colonial’, in the same, pp. 3–​32, at 11–​12.
88  James Brown Scott, The Spanish Origins of International Law: Francisco de Vitoria and His Law
of Nations (1934); Anthony Pagden, Lords of All the World: Ideologies of Empire in Spain, Britain and
France, 1500-​1800 (1995); Annabel Brett, Changes of State; Antony Anghie, Imperialism, Sovereignty
and the Making of International Law (2007). A certain ‘Vitorian utopia’ is present in the literature in
 461

The First Relectio de Indis 461

Arguably Vitoria’s theory of ‘the theological’ about the dominium of conscience
by experts-​theologians offers a further key to unravel that paradox or irony. We have
already seen that Vitoria’s theory of law envisages the possibility of conflict between
natural law and situations of utility. However, he did not use that argument in order
to justify legal claims in relation to actions undertaken by the Spanish in the New
World. On the contrary, Vitoria became famous for showing, creatively to be sure,
that such claims were nothing other than an expression of natural law in the form
of jus gentium ‘which either is or derives from natural law’. The jus peregrinandi,
the jus negotiandi, and as a consequence of those two, also the jus evangelisandi, were
interpretations of natural law that the founder of the Salamanca School of theology
produced in a spirit of innovation.89
In his apparent misreading of events Vitoria does not describe the processes of
conquest and colonization as such, while the reader is left in no doubt that he
knows the facts. Instead, he chose to depict the entire adventure as a commercial
and evangelical enterprise sanctioned by natural law. By couching the benefits for
the Spanish in terms of natural rights the message conveyed by the expert’s judg-
ment was that in this case utility and reason or, in other words, nature and natural
law, need not be in opposition to one another. That Vitoria intended a rectification
of the colonial policy is a general interpretation of the Relectio de Indis. Luciano
Pereña called it ‘el proyecto de reconversion colonial’.90 However, without carrying
out a critical assessment of Vitoria’s utopian depiction of the facts of the case, the
normativity of the utilitarian ideology of the new theory is lost. Therefore, I would
suggest that Vitoria’s Relectio de Indis ought to be read not as a justification of a fait
accompli (the conquest) but as an ethical-​normative orientation for the future. If
‘all this business of the barbarians’91 were to be conducted in the manner in which
he described it, it would be a manifestation of natural law and, as a consequence, it
would be done according to justice.
Another important insight to be gained from that reading of De Indis is that its
utopianism prevents the unfolding of the moral dilemma. In this case an evolu-
tion towards the reasoning used in the commentary on the Summa q. 105, a. 2 has
occurred. In the latter, placing utility in opposition to natural law provided an occa-
sion on which God could make a dispensation of natural law. Based on the author-
ity of the expert, such opposition became both an expression and an interpretation

the sense of going beyond reality, transcending it in order to produce something more favourable to
the Indians. Notably so, Redondo’s doctoral dissertation, which Luciano Pereña directed: see María
Lourdes Redondo Redondo, Utopia Vitoriana y Realidad Indiana (1991) <http://​biblioteca.ucm.es/​
tesis/​19911996/​H/​2/​AH2008601.pdf>.
89  ‘patet ex predictis, quia si habent jus peregrinandi et negotiandi apud illos, ergo possunt docere
veritatem volentes audire’. Vitoria, ‘De Indis recenter inventis’, at p. 262 (n. 9).
90  See, Luciano Pereña, ‘Proyecto de reconversión colonial’, in Escuela de Salamanca. Carta Magna
de los Indios. Also, on the occasion of the 450th anniversary of the Relectio, Francisco de Vitoria, Relectio
de Indis –​Carta magna de los indios: 450 aniversario, 1539-​1989, essays by L. Pereña, trans. C. Baciero,
corrections by F.  Maseda, Corpus Hispanorum de Pacis (1989). Vitoria’s letter to Fray Miguel de
Arcos (1534) seems to be an early condemnation of the open violence and thieving involved in the
Conquista, in Escuela de Salamanca. Carta Magna de los Indios, pp. 37–​40.
91 Vitoria, Political Writings, p. 237 (n. 76).
462

462 Mónica García-Salmones Rovira

of natural law. In this process, natural law underwent a dramatic transformation.

Firstly, the theologian turned a decision of conscience into positive law, as natural
law, which goes against the very nature of an act of conscience.92 Furthermore, an
expansion of the discipline of theology thereby occurred. Secondly, the (theoreti-
cally possible) dispensation of natural law was internalized and transformed into
an interpretation of it. The other possible moral routes—​immorality and moral
dilemma—​disappeared. That all this was happening at the expense of order, which
the individual must discover and preserve by means of a moral decision, was with-
out a doubt the downside of this incredibly creative moment.93
This analysis of De Indis also teaches us something important about the theory
of sources in international law with regard to the activity of experts. Namely, that
experts are today and have always been an important source of international law.
The key point of experts is that they are independent individuals and entities,
who are not members of a government, and who are considered to have authority
due to their expertise in some field.94 To my knowledge Vitoria was the first to
remove natural subjective rights from their original environments of individuals’
moral theology and canon law and transplant them into an encounter between
peoples.95 There is no reason to doubt that he knew that he was creating new law
by doing that.96 Arguably, experts are needed because they help governments or
groups of people to make determinations of law in circumstances where tough or
contested moral and political decisions are required. This is exactly what made De
Indis a classic. But experts’ judgments are neither objective nor sources of truth.
Depending on our political inclinations we might agree or disagree with them.
A historiography of De Indis suffices to demonstrate that.97 Nevertheless, experts
are facilitators of law in a world that has despaired of ever reaching truth. Thanks
to them, thanks to Vitoria, making new law has become possible in the history of
international law.

92  For instance, Aquinas regarded the act of conscience as a personal judgment in God’s presence
and not a norm: ‘The act of conscience that something must be done is nothing other than a judgment
that it would be against God’s will not to do it (habere conscientiam de re aliqua facienda, nihil aliud est
quam aestimare quod faciam contra Deum, nisi illud faciat).’ Quote from Dougherty, Moral Dilemmas
in Medieval Thought, at p. 154 (n. 70). As to the positivization of natural law, I see it occurring much
earlier than Habermas affirmed (with the bourgeois revolution) and not as constitutional law, but, par-
adoxically as natural law. See Jürgen Habermas, Theory and Practice, John Viertel trans. (1974), ch. 2.
93 See n. 11. 94  Jan Klabbers, International Law (2013), at p. 37.
95  Brian Tierney’s in-​depth study seems to imply the same:  Brian Tierney, The Idea of Natural
Rights: Studies on Natural Rights, Natural Law and Church Law, 1150-​1625 (1997), generally and at
p. 252.
96  Compare with Skinner, who referred to the description of Vitoria as the founder of the modern
concept of international law due to his ideas on jus gentium’s precepts created by the authority of every-
one, although this would not be the way ‘he would have recognised himself ’. My discussion here deals
purely with natural law. Quentin Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, Volume 2: The
Age of Reformation (2004), at p. 154.
97  See Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Vitoria and Us: Thoughts on Critical Histories of International Law’,
Rechtsgeschichte -​Legal History 22 (2014), 119–​38.
 463

The First Relectio de Indis 463

IV. Conclusions

In his ambitious theological programme, which aimed to make sense of the world
he inhabited, Vitoria was an innovator. As a consequence of the implementation
of that programme he theologized his world. However, Vitoria developed a theol-
ogy that was unorthodox. As we have seen on the occasion of the first lecture on
the Indians, his practice of theologizing questions amounted to subjecting them to
the authority of the theologian, extracting them from their true existential space
and integrating them into his own utilitarian theory about the natural human
being and the world. Putting aside the need for existential decision, natural law
became, in the hands of the so-​called founder of international law, and subsequent
international lawyers, a virtual realm with endless possibilities for positive deter-
minations about what would be the sensible thing to do. In an important sense
a new system of natural law was created, while order, as described by the classic
theologians, collapsed. David Kennedy has recently called a similar phenomenon
‘experts’ creative moments of destruction’.98 Whether the economy of free trade of
the Spanish Empire—​and the Dutch, British, and other empires—​caused this or
was the motive for it, the fact that European society was permeated by a practical
theology not primarily directed to God’s love deserves further consideration.

98  David Kennedy, A World of Struggle: How Power, Law and Expertise Shape Global Political Economy
(2016), p. 28.
46

22
Power and Law as Ordering Devices in the
System of International Relations
Gunther Hellmann

The title of this chapter is meant to speak to the overarching theme of this vol-
ume* while at the same time irritating established language games in International
Law (IL) and International Relations (IR).1 This irritation is potentially productive
because it may help in sensitizing readers early on for the fact that concepts such
as power, law, system, and order have a central place in the disciplinary discourses
of both fields while being loaded with different meanings both within each of
them and—​in terms of dominating disciplinary narratives—​across the disciplinary
dividing lines between IL and IR. As a matter of fact, as I try to argue in some detail,
the placements which these key concepts are usually accorded in the theoretical
vocabularies and discourses of IL and IR have specific functions in describing what
the central disciplinary problematiques of IL and IR presumably are—​and possibly
even help to explain why both have ‘evolved as parallel yet carefully quarantined
fields of inquiry’.2 To be sure, the designation of disciplinary boundaries, the con-
struction of disciplinary histories, and the representation of disciplinary discourses
are as much an expression of intellectual contention as are disciplinary debates
about proper understandings of key concepts. Yet these disciplining exercises are
also potentially fruitful in the sense of reexamining what we do in our respective
fields and how these scholarly practices can be justified—​or how they might be
changed.

*  I am grateful to Friedrich Kratochwil and the editors, especially Stefan Kadelbach, for comments
and to Daniel Fehrmann for research assistance.
1  I am here following a convention which is shared in the academic disciplines of ‘International
Relations’ (IR) and ‘International Law’ (IL) in differentiating between discipline and subject matter
where the academic discipline is usually capitalized whereas the actual subject matter of the field (i.e.
‘international relations’) is designated in lower case. For IL, see David Armstrong, ‘Introduction’, in
David Armstrong (ed.), The Routledge Handbook of International Law (2009), pp. 1–​9, at 1.
2  Chris Reus-​Smit, ‘Introduction’, in Chris Reus-​Smit (ed.), The Politics of International Law (2004),
pp. 1–​13, at 1. For a critique of this separation into two disciplinary fields see Friedrich Kratochwil,
Rules, Norms and Decisions: On the Conditions of Practical and Legal Reasoning in International Relations
and Domestic Affairs (1991), pp. 1–​6.

Power and Law as Ordering Devices in the System of International Relations. Gunther Hellmann. © Gunther
Hellmann, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
 465

Power and Law as Ordering Devices 465

When the editors of this volume justify their take at the history of inter-
national legal thought in terms of a focus on the key concepts ‘system’ and
‘order’ with a certain bias—​a bias against anarchy, or a normative commitment
to system and order3 they are placing themselves in a specific reading of disci-
plinary traditions in IL while at the same time offering a narrative of what one
of the key problematiques of IL actually is (or should be). By the same token
(and with the aim of offering one possible description as to how to separate IL
and IR in a disciplinary perspective from an IR point of view) I will venture to
argue that IR—​as it has been practised as an emerging scholarly discipline which
ever more clearly located itself in a ‘social science’ tradition4 as the twentieth
century progressed—​has cultivated a bias towards anarchy besides a ‘normative’
commitment to the ‘empirical’.5 Only recently have core disciplinary discourses
started to move beyond anarchy while rediscovering normativity or (re-​)empha-
sizing the internal connections between normative and empirical (i.e. ‘causal’)
theorizing.6
Of course, this thesis needs to be elaborated—​not least because the concepts
‘anarchy’, ‘normativity’, and ‘empirical’ have their own (different) meanings in dif-
ferent theoretical vocabularies. In what follows I hope to be able to show how this
thesis can be substantiated in discussing the significance which ‘power’ and ‘law’—​
as key concepts—​have been accorded in IL and IR in describing and explaining the
emergence, maintenance, and transformation of international order. Care has to be
taken in both conceptualizing and interpreting power, law, system, order, anarchy,
normativity, and the empirical because of their multiple uses in specific contexts.
The definitional approach to concept formation which is still widespread in IR is a
major hindrance in that regard because it wrongly assumes that ‘defining’ a concept
with other words in one or a few sentences suffices to explain its meaning. Yet the
history of mankind and language has amply shown that this definitional approach
commits what Wittgenstein called the ‘mistake’ of ‘nominalists’: ‘Nominalists make
the mistake of interpreting all words as names, and so of not really describing their
use, but only, so to speak, giving a paper draft on such a description.’7 Naming, in
other words, is just one function in our ways of using words. To understand means

3  See the contribution by Kadelbach, Kleinlein, and Roth-Isigkeit in this volume, pp. 7–11.
4 Stanley Hoffmann, ‘An American Social Science:  International Relations’, Daedalus 106
(1977), 41–​60.
5 For a description of IR’s development from an IL perspective see Martti Koskenniemi, The
Gentle Civilizer of Nations: The Rise and Fall of International Law (2004), esp. chs. 3 and 6; see also
Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Law, Teleology and International Relations: An Essay in Counterdisciplinarity’,
International Relations 26 (2012), 3–​34. See also Kratochwil, Rules, Norms and Decisions, pp. 45–​68
(n. 2) and Friedrich Kratochwil, The Status of Law in World Society: Meditations on the Role and Rule of
Law (2014), pp. 26–​49.
6  A thorough and broad critique of disciplinary preoccupations with theoretical problems which are
derived from a fixation on anarchy in IR, including a review of the respective literature is provided by
Benjamin Herborth, Challenging Anarchy? Outlines of a Critical Theory of World Society (2014).
7 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, trans. G.E.M. Anscombe (1958), § 383,
emphasis in the original.
46

466 Gunther Hellmann

that one is grasping the different ways of using words in different contexts and in
performing different functions.8
Therefore, the irritations which may arise from combining concepts such as sys-
tem, order, power, and law in unusual ways, as in the title of this chapter, may
actually help in sharpening our awareness for what Thomas Kuhn pointed to when
he discussed the difference between the limits of translation of ‘incommensurable’
paradigms and the possibility and necessity of ‘language learning’ when we encoun-
ter novel concepts or theoretical vocabularies.9 Language learning requires ‘that one
must go native’, i.e. aim at ‘becoming bilingual’ based on the assumption that ‘any-
thing that can be said in one language can, with sufficient imagination and effort,
be understood by a speaker of another’.10
Given the limitations of space the challenge in subsequent sections will be to
show how the different uses of the key concepts mentioned above can be sufficiently
explained in order to be understood in the context of an overarching argument
about power and law as ordering devices in disciplinary discourses, here mainly in
IR. Section I starts out by explaining how a different understanding of ‘system’ and
‘order’ in IR fits in with the cultivation of a bias towards anarchy and a fixation on
the ‘empirical’ at the expense of normativity. In Section II, I illustrate on the basis
of three prominent themes in IR scholarship how a causal and instrumental under-
standing of both power and law has shaped disciplinary ways of theorizing order.

I.  System, Order, and Anarchy

In order to understand how the relationship between power and law is conceptual-
ized in IR it is useful to place this relationship in the context of the two key con-
cepts around which this volume has been organized—​precisely because ‘system’ and
‘order’ are of central importance in both IL and IR while carrying a somewhat dif-
ferent meaning and fulfilling a different disciplinary function which relates, among
others, to how the relationship between power and law is conceived.
To start with the concept of ‘system’, the broad notions of completeness, whole-
ness, coherence, unity, and stability which the editors associate with this term in
their introductory chapter11 is of equal importance in IR discourses as well. Yet in

8  Gerald Gaus, Political Concepts and Political Theories (2000), pp. 7–​23; John G. Gunnell, Political
Theory and Social Science: Cutting Against the Grain (2011), pp. 129–​54.
9 For Kuhn paradigms or, more generally, ‘theories’ are incommensurable in the sense that
translation—​taken to be ‘a quasimechanical activity governed in full by a manual that specifies, as a
function of context, which string in one language may, salva veritate, be substituted for a given string
in the other’—​is insufficient to fully transport the meaning of theorizing in one language into another
language. Yet this does not mean that understanding via ‘language learning’ is equally impossible. See
Thomas S. Kuhn, ‘Dubbing and Redubbing: The Vulnerability of Rigid Designation’, in C. Wade
Savage (ed.), Scientific Theories (1990), pp. 298–​318, at p. 299, emphasis in original.
10  The first quote is from Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1996 [1962], 3rd
edn), p. 204, the others from Kuhn, p. 300 (n. 9).
11  Kadelbach, Kleinlein, and Roth-​Isigkeit in this volume, pp. 7–​9.
 467

Power and Law as Ordering Devices 467

IR these notions of wholeness and coherence are usually not associated with a com-
plex and differentiated system of law or legal thought but rather with a fairly sparse
understanding of an international (political) system made up of states interacting
in an anarchic environment.
To be sure, the ‘social’ dimension of international politics which has been
emphasized as a critical element in any form of systemic theorizing of international
politics by ‘classical realism’, the ‘English School’, and IR ‘social constructivists’ has
always allowed for some ‘causal weight’ of norms and rules as ordering devices. Even
Hans Morgenthau, the realist most associated with the notion that the main driver
of world politics was the ‘aspiration’ or ‘lust for power’ granted that ‘international
law, international morality, and world public opinion’ provided for the only other
‘normative limitations’ upon the struggle for power besides the balance of power.12
Yet in the process of IR highlighting its profile as a social ‘science’ in the second half
of the twentieth century where positivism and empiricism as philosophies of sci-
ence predominated, normativity was increasingly sidelined as an element in, not to
mention an integral part of, theorizing international politics.
Kenneth Waltz, undoubtedly the most influential theorist in IR in the last few
decades, pushed this preference for ‘parsimonious’ theory building to the extreme.
In his view a proper theory of international politics had to be ‘systemic’ in the sense
of avoiding the ‘reductionism’ which, in his view, much of the theorizing about
international politics had exhibited up until the 1970s. Reductionist theories, in
Waltz’s view, committed an error by trying to causally explain systems-​wide effects
with reference to individuals and/​or states.13 Yet ‘international politics’ as a sys-
temic process was qualitatively different from ‘foreign policy’. Moreover, since he
took his clues for conceptualizing ‘theory’ from ‘the natural sciences’ and ‘some
of the social sciences, especially economics’14 his ‘systemic theory’ was explicitly
sparse, thereby cherishing ‘parsimony’ as an epistemological virtue. Given that ‘sys-
tem’ was conceived as consisting of ‘interacting units’ and ‘a structure (…) that
makes it possible to think of the units as forming a set as distinct from a mere col-
lection’ the theory could limit itself to only three causal ‘variables’ with the potential
of producing systemic effects: states (as ‘like units’), anarchy (as prevailing ‘ordering
principle’), and the ‘distribution of (material) capabilities’ (‘power’) among states.15
Norms and rules, not to mention international law had no place whatsoever in this
systemic approach.
Alexander Wendt, probably the IR theorist most influential in the discipline
next to Waltz, was sympathetic overall with Waltz’s systemic approach. However,
in his understanding international politics had to be conceived as social relations
which, in turn, implied that norms and rules had to be constitutive of any systemic
theorizing. Yet even here the primary focus was on processes of political interaction
and only derivatively on international law. Waltz’s structural constant (anarchy) was

12  Hans J. Morgenthau, Politics among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace (1948), pp. 8–​9, 36.
13  Kenneth Waltz, Theory of International Politics (1979), pp. 18–​37, 60–​78.
14 Ibid., p. 6. 15  Ibid., pp. 40, 79–​101.
468

468 Gunther Hellmann

dynamized and international law even accorded a systematic place as ‘a key part of
the deep structure’ of international politics.16 However, law figured primarily as
an unspecified background condition for (and outflow of ) political interactions
among states which developed and transformed patterns of social relationships
characterized by enmity and amity in the context of three overarching (and poten-
tially transformative) ‘cultures of anarchy’ for which the political philosophies of
Thomas Hobbes (‘enmity’), John Locke (‘rivalry’), and Immanuel Kant (‘friend-
ship’) were mobilized as place holders.17
This appropriation of some of the differentiated systems of thoughts of philoso-
phers dealt with in detail in this volume is telling for IR as a discipline because it
illustrates another dimension of systemic and systematic theorizing of power and
law in IR. Political and legal thinkers in the tradition of Western political thought
are referred to as sources of distinct bodies of thought which may be (re-​)claimed
for particular purposes in the pursuit of alternative ways of theorizing the whole (or
essence) of international politics. Yet this is done primarily as short-​cuts for a limited
set of three or four ‘cultures of anarchy’, ‘theories’ along ‘paradigmatic’ lines18 (such
as ‘realism’, ‘idealism’ /​‘liberalism’, ‘constructivism’, or ‘Marxism’) or ‘traditions
of thought’19 which are then linked with these key figures—​mainly Machiavelli,
Hobbes, Grotius, Locke, and Kant. This manner of organizing the discipline in
what Hedley Bull called the spectrum of ‘competing traditions’ or ‘theories’ in IR
reflecting ‘the nature of international politics and a set of prescriptions about inter-
national conduct’20 serves at least three functions: it authoritatively grounds disci-
plinary practice, it establishes (or at least claims) some historical lineage, and it sets
IR apart from other disciplines (such as philosophy, political theory, and law) which
lay claim to these thinkers as well. In the end, the differentiated systems of thought
of political and legal scholars are reduced to some presumed essence which helps in
sorting conceivable systemic patterns of international politics.
International law figures differently in these systemic projects but in terms of its
ordering effects it is always trumped by politics and power. Even Hedley Bull, the
influential IR theorist who, besides Hans Morgenthau, engaged the tradition of
political and legal thought most thoroughly and sympathetically, warned of com-
mitting the ‘error’ to look at international law ‘as if (it) were to be assessed only in
relation to the function it has of binding states together, and not also in relation
to its function as an instrument of state interest and as a vehicle of transnational
purposes’.21
This takes us to a closer examination of the second interpretative key of this vol-
ume, the concept of ‘order’.22 Again, Hedley Bull and the ‘English School’ exhibit

16  Alexander Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics (1999), p. 280.

17  Ibid., pp. 246–​312.
18  Yosef Lapid, ‘The Third Debate: On the Prospects of International Theory in a Post-​Positivist
Era’, International Studies Quarterly 33 (1989), 235–​54, at 239–​41.
19  Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics (2002 [1977]), pp. 23–​6.
20 Ibid., p. 23. 21 Ibid., p. 49.
22  Kadelbach, Kleinlein, and Roth-​Isigkeit in this volume, p. 9.
 469

Power and Law as Ordering Devices 469

the closest affinity with the tradition of legal theorizing which associates order, as
the editors put it in the introduction, with stability as a desired outcome.23 For Bull
‘order’ is associated (in a factual sense) with things being ‘related to one another
according to some pattern’. Yet at the same time this relationship can be called
orderly only if it also serves (in a normative sense) some larger purpose.24 ‘World
order’ thus stands for broad ‘patterns or dispositions of human activity’ which serve
the purpose of ‘sustain(ing) the elementary or primary goals of social life among
mankind as a whole’ whereas ‘international order’ is only concerned with those pat-
terns of activity that sustain the ‘primary goals of the society of states’.25 In other
words, orders emerge from the interplay of certain forces where intentionality is
difficult to pinpoint but they are also created as the result of some human agency in
purposefully steering social relations.
This second definitional dimension is crucial for two reasons. First, ‘disorder’,
Bull’s antonym for ‘order’ is largely synonymous with anarchy and lawlessness
in a Hobbesian tradition.26 It mainly refers to patterns of activity which under-
mine or openly violate rules-​based social life,27 and becomes meaningful only
against this understanding of the term ‘order’. Second, and more importantly,
the purposive connotation of the concept of ‘order’ is largely absent in most of
IR’s theorizing. Here an ‘order’ is simply an ‘arrangement’ of component parts
(and in this sense synonymous with ‘system’ or, as in Waltz’s case, also with
‘structure’). How the key components and processes that make up an interna-
tional system are ‘arranged’ or ‘ordered’ is of central importance for these IR
theories. For the broad (and very influential) ‘rationalist’ versions of ‘realist’
and ‘liberal’ theory in IR it is also sufficient.28 ‘Anarchy’ in this view is not to be
associated with ‘disorder’ or lawlessness. Rather it is merely an ‘ordering princi-
ple’ in the sense of taking the absence of an overarching authority beyond states
to enforce international rules, especially as far as the domestication of violence
is concerned, as an expression of how the international system is arranged (or
‘ordered’). Patterns and dispositions of states’ activities can be observed and the-
orized without assuming that purposive steering takes place. In this regard Waltz
and other IR rationalists explicitly follow the economic reasoning of a ‘theory
of the market’:  ‘(P)atterns emerge and endure without anyone arranging the
parts to form patterns or striving to maintain them. The acts and the relations

23  As to the widespread understanding of ‘order’ as a basic social phenomenon see also the close
affinity between Bull, Anarchical Society, pp. 3–​8 (n. 19), and the editors’ example of Menasse’s novel
Wings of Stone: Kadelbach, Kleinlein, and Roth-Isigkeit, in this volume, pp. 15–16.
24 Bull, Anarchical Society, pp. 3–​4 (n. 19).    25  Ibid., pp. 19, 8.
26  Ibid., pp. 23–​6, 44–​8; see also the contribution by Heller in this volume. This association of
‘anarchy’ with disorder is largely shared by Morgenthau; see Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, pp.
138, 310–​11, and 431 (n. 12).
27 Bull, Anarchical Society, pp. xxxii, 3–​4, 91, and 181 (n. 19).
28  In IR discourse ‘rationalism’ is often combined with certain versions of ‘realism’ and ‘liberal-
ism’ in order to highlight utility-​maximization as a key assumption of a methodological-​individualist
outlook. See James Fearon and Alexander Wendt, ‘Rationalism v. Constructivism: A Skeptical View’,
in Walter Carlsnaes, Thomas Risse, and Beth Simmons (eds.), Handbook of International Relations
(2002), pp. 52–​72.
470

470 Gunther Hellmann

of parties may be regulated through the accommodations they mutually make.

Order may prevail without an orderer.’29
This rationalist take of ‘order’ obviously collides with approaches which explicitly
emphasize the ‘social’ nature of international politics without, however, basing it (as
Bull does and how Hobbes has often been read) on a dualism of ‘order’ versus ‘disor-
der’. Roughly these approaches come in two versions, a systemic and an actor-​based
understanding. Alexander Wendt’s ‘constructivism’ represents the most prominent
‘states systemic-​centric’30 perspective which conceives of ‘political order’ in general not
only in the classical Hobbesian view of ‘getting people to work together toward mutu-
ally beneficial ends like reducing violence’ but which, in addition, sees a ‘sociological’
problem of order in the challenge of ‘creating stable patterns of behavior, whether
cooperative or conflictual.’ This is based on the postulate that while the regularities
and patterns which we observe in nature or markets may be driven by material forces
or assumptions of rational utility-​maximization, social relationships, and patterns ‘are
determined primarily by shared ideas that enable us to predict each other’s behavior’.31
In other words, where Bull often associates various forms of conflict with disorder,32
patterns of ‘conflictual’ encounter may be thought of as being an expression of order if
they enable us to build stable expectations as to how others will act in social encounters.
Wendt further elaborates this by conceiving of his three ‘cultures of anarchy’.33
Besides the systemic approach to a social understanding of international political
order, IR theorizing has always known actor-​based approaches, i.e. forms of theoriz-
ing which causally link order (largely synonymous with ‘stability’) as an outcome of
international politics with the intentions and policies of major powers. In the more
limited realist versions states are normally attributed certain motivations to pursue
‘status quo’ policies or ‘revisionist’ (‘revolutionary’ or ‘imperialistic’) policies based
on their satisfaction or dissatisfaction with their own position in a given political
order.34 These approaches often side with Bull’s understanding of disorder when
political strategies such as revisionism are linked with effects on political order.
There are, however, also ‘liberal’ actor-​based approaches which conceive of order-​
building as an exercise analogous to constitution-​making. Here order is still defined
systemically in terms of ‘ “governing” arrangements among a group of states’.35
However, these arrangements are visibly shaped by some powerful actor (where
‘power (is) turned into order’).36 In other words, these orders are intentionally

29 Waltz, Theory of International Politics, pp. 71–​2, 77 (n. 13). For a critique of this ‘ “scientification” of
international political theory’ by Waltzian neorealism, including a detailed critique of (partially intentional)
‘misreadings’ of Morgenthau and the political tradition, especially Hobbes and Rousseau, see Hartmut
Behr, A History of International Political Theory: Ontologies of the International (2010), pp. 197–​225.
30 Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics, p. 257 (n. 16).
31  All quotes ibid., p. 251 (emphasis in original).
32 Bull, Anarchical Society, pp. 55, 90–​1, 145–​7, 181, 201 (n. 19).
33 Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics, pp. 246–​312 (n. 16).
34 Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, pp. 129–​33 (n. 12); Henry A. Kissinger, A World Restored
(1964), pp. 1–​6, 145–​7; John J. Mearsheimer, The Tragedy of Great Power Politics (2001), ch. 2.
35  G. John Ikenberry, After Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after
Major Wars (2001), p. 23.
36  Ibid., p. xiii.
 471

Power and Law as Ordering Devices 471

designed, they do not merely result from systemic processes or mechanisms. As
John Ikenberry, among others, has shown, it is particularly after great wars that the
victors are provided with huge opportunities to create new rules and institutions.37
To sum up, ‘system’ and ‘order’ are as central to the dictionary of IR’s theoretical
vocabulary as they are to IL. Here and there they are also used synonymously—​and
synonymy is certainly not limited to the description of polarity constellations as, for
instance, in John Mearsheimer’s thesis that ‘a multipolar system has more potential
conflict situations than does a bipolar order’.38 Discipline-​specific differences in
usage are, however, clearly discernible too—​and especially in a historical perspec-
tive as IL and IR have more clearly demarcated the contours of disciplinary border
lines over the past century. This is less visible as far as ‘system’ is concerned. Here
notions of wholeness are equally applied in IR and IL to an arrangement which is
(largely) made up of states as key units of (legal and/​or political) analysis. Moreover,
alternative forms of systemic theorizing from sociology or the natural sciences have
left traces in both IL and IR.39 However, the dynamics and processes which hold
these arrangements together and endow them with their specific ‘systemic’ charac-
ter are conceived of differently at the cores of both disciplines.
The normativity of law is obviously at the centre of IL as a subject matter.
However, it also shapes a certain form of scholarly reasoning which is distinct from
styles and methods of reasoning (or ‘theorizing’) in IR. ‘International law may be a
university discipline, but it is above all a rhetorical practice’, as Martti Koskenniemi
put it, approvingly quoting Friedrich Kratochwil that ‘what makes rules “legal” is
their principled use in application’.40 In contrast, international—​or, better: inter-​
state—​political systems have increasingly been conceptualized in the evolving dis-
cipline of IR as being shaped by a notion of ‘anarchy’ which fundamentally changed
the meaning of the term as it had been understood by legal and political theorists
from Hobbes to Kant. Anarchy as an ‘ordering principle’ was drained of almost all
the dreadful normative connotations which were associated with it not only in the
legal and political philosophical tradition but also in much of IR scholarship up
until the first half of the twentieth century.41 Even the harshest of ‘offensive realists’
haste to emphasize today that even though ‘the international system is anarchic

37 Ibid.   38 Mearsheimer, Tragedy of Great Power Politics (n. 34).

39  For discussions of Luhmann in IR theorizing see Mathias Albert and Lena Hilkermeier, Observing
International Relations: Niklas Luhmann and World Politics (2004). The influence of systems theory
from the natural sciences and cybernetics is most clearly visible in Waltz, Theory of International Politics,
esp. pp. 38–​59 (n. 13).
40  Koskenniemi, ‘Law, Teleology and International Relations’, p. 20 (n. 5). Friedrich Kratochwil,
‘Legal Theory and International Law’, in David Armstrong (ed.), Routledge Handbook of International
Law, (2009), pp. 55–​67, at p. 58, emphasis in the original. On law ‘as a “style” of reasoning’ see also
Kratochwil, Rules, Norms, Decisions, pp. 205–​10 (n. 2).
41  Brian Schmidt has shown that at least two meanings prevailed in the first half of the twentieth
century. World War I was widely interpreted in the emerging discipline as having been the consequence
of an ‘orthodox juristic theory of the state’ and a form of international anarchy which emphasized the
absence of an overarching sovereign. Yet there was also a literature focusing on decolonization which
was widely construed as an anarchic process where ‘uncivilized’ peoples would fall into lawlessness,
chaos, and disorder when colonial powers withdrew. See Brian C. Schmidt, The Political Discourse of
Anarchy: A Disciplinary History of International Relations (1988), pp. 123–​87.
472

472 Gunther Hellmann

(this) does not mean that it is chaotic or riven by disorder.’ What is more: ‘By itself
(…) the realist notion of anarchy has nothing to do with conflict; it is an ordering
principle, which says that the system comprises independent states that have no
central authority above them.’42
International anarchy in this sense highlighted a fundamental difference to
‘domestic hierarchy’. Moreover, by postulating anarchy as a form of order which
was both factually obvious and central as an organizing principle of the international
political system it became the disciplinary anchor around which IR as an emerg-
ing ‘social science’43 could be profiled against other disciplines. The contrast to IL
stands out in particular because IL remains committed, in its self-​descriptions, to ‘a
teleological project’ aiming at ‘an international community ruled by law’ and, thus,
is decidedly ‘not a social science’.44
As will be discussed in more detail in the next section this difference is impor-
tant because ‘power’ and ‘law’ as ordering devices or mechanisms figure differently
in the main discourses in both disciplines even if they may be conceptualized in
similar fashion. Moreover, this difference may also help to understand why much
of IR theorizing about the place of power on the one hand and ‘norms’ and ‘rules’
(as the preferred concepts in IR discourse compared to what is widely conceived as
too narrow a notion of ‘law’) on the other hand remains fixated on stark dualisms
of ‘theory’ versus ‘practice’, ‘theory’ versus ‘the empirical’ (or, for that matter, ‘real’
things that may be observable or ‘non-​observable’45) or all of the latter (the ‘is’)
versus ‘the normative’ (the ‘ought’).

II.  Power, Law, and Order

Concept formation is ‘the limit of the empirical’46 and, thus, a central part of ‘theo-
rizing’—​taken here in a Gadamerian sense of ‘seeing what is’.47 In this understanding

42 Mearsheimer, Tragedy of Great Power Politics, p. 30 (n. 34), emphasis added. On Mearsheimer
and ‘offensive realism’ see also Glenn H. Snyder, ‘Mearsheimer’s World: Offensive Realism and the
Struggle for Security’, International Security 27 (2002), 149–​73.
43  For an argument which traces the shift from practical reasoning based on normative concerns to
causal argumentation all the way back to Hobbes see also Martti Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia.
The Structure of International Legal Argument (2nd edn, 2006), pp. 79–​82.
44  Koskenniemi, ‘Law, Teleology and International Relations’, pp. 14, 20 (n. 5).
45  The ‘scientific realist’ vocabulary which leads to sentences such as ‘states and the states system are
real (ontology) and knowable (epistemology), despite being unobservable’ has been introduced to IR
mainly by Alexander Wendt. For his discussion of ‘empirics’, ‘empirical research’ and how this relates
to ‘real’ things, irrespective of whether these are ‘observable’ or ‘unobservable’ see Wendt, Social Theory
of International Politics, pp. 47–​64(n. 16). For a critique see John G. Gunnell, ‘Social Scientific Inquiry
and Meta-​theoretical Fantasy: The Case of International Relations’, Review of International Studies
37 (2011), 1447–​69.
46  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics (1978), p. 29.
47  Theory, Gadamer recalls, derives from the Greek theoria, which means ‘observing’. ‘It does not
mean a mere ‘seeing’ that (…) stores up information.’ Rather, it is ‘a way of comporting oneself, a
position and condition. It is ‘being present’ in the lovely double sense that means that the person is
not only present but completely present.’ Hans-​Georg Gadamer, Praise of Theory, trans. Chris Dawson
(1999), p. 31.
 473

Power and Law as Ordering Devices 473

theorizing ‘power’ and ‘law’ implies first and foremost to grasp how these concepts
are used in the context of broader vocabularies.48 As has been argued in the previ-
ous section, one of the key differences between IL and IR as academic disciplines
can be located in disciplinary purpose (‘teleological project’ versus ‘social science’).
In this section I will argue that this difference in purpose translates into specific
understandings and uses of ‘power’ and associated concepts in a core IR vocabulary
on the one hand and ‘law’ as a secondary concept in the disciplinary vocabulary of
IR on the other hand. Most importantly, in IR ‘power is all too often understood in
simple contradistinction to law’.49 This attitude, I will argue, has been nourished by
a gradual shift over the last century in the self-​understanding of the discipline from
one which had grown out of its deep roots in history, law, and philosophy into a
particular brand of social science.50 To the extent that it has defined itself as a social
science this has sharpened its preference for theorizing the overarching state system
primarily via generalizing explanation. In contrast, to the extent that IL is practiced
as a ‘teleological project’ it has focused on theorizing generalized and individualized
foreign policy practices via legal argument.
Power is ubiquitous in politics, be it ‘international’ or ‘domestic’. This ubiquity,
unsurprisingly, has also left its mark in a plethora of historically contingent and
(necessarily) essentially contested conceptualizations.51 Notions of power which
almost naturally merge the two Latin sources of meaning of ‘potestas’ and ‘potentia’
with justice/​legitimate rule52 or which stand, even more abstractly, purely for a pol-
ity, a form of government or some ‘political order’, have been largely sidelined in IR,
especially in those ‘rationalist’ approaches which have increasingly become domi-
nant in the course of turning IR into an ‘American social science’. Instead power
came to be largely associated with ‘capacities’—​such as ‘control over resources’ and
‘control over outcomes’—​with which states as key agents were endowed. In the sys-
temic conceptualization of an ‘anarchical order’ which pervaded the discipline any
potential ordering authority (polity) at the level above the state dropped out and
thus perfectly combined with an almost exclusive focus on the possession of ‘mate-
rial resources’ and their use in affecting preferred outcomes.53 The key question of

48  ‘Vocabulary’ here is taken to refer to that linguistic net of words and concepts which forms the
most basic point of reference for the creation of meaning. See Richard Rorty, Irony, Contingency and
Solidarity (1998), pp. 3–​22. See also Robert B. Brandom, ‘Vocabularies of Pragmatism: Synthesizing
Naturalism and Historicism’, in Robert B. Brandom (ed.), Rorty and his Critics (2000), pp. 156–​90.
49  Andrew Hurrell, On Global Order: Power, Values, and the Constitution of International Society
(2007), p. 13.
50  Brian C. Schmidt, ‘On the History and Historiography of International Relations’, in Carlsnaes,
Risse, and Simmons (eds.), pp. 3–​22, at pp. 5–​6 (n. 28).
51  For a contemporary overview see Keith Dowding, Encyclopedia of Power (2011). A broad-​ranging
conceptual history is provided by Karl-​Georg Faber, Karl-​Heinz Ilting, and Christian Meier, ‘Macht,
Gewalt’, in Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe, Vol. 3, ed. Reinhart Koselleck (1982), pp. 817–​935. See also
Walter Bryce Gallie, ‘Essentially Contested Concepts’, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 56 (1956)
167–​98.
52  Faber, Ilting, and Meier, ‘Macht, Gewalt’, pp. 818–​19 (n. 51).
53  See also Stefano Guzzini, Power, Realism and Constructivism (2013).
47

474 Gunther Hellmann

how order is maintained in a system without an orderer, thus boiled down to the
question of identifying those factors which presumably ‘explain’ (causally) what
had been set up as the major ‘puzzle’ in the first place.
This is obviously not the only use of ‘power’ in IR—​especially if one conceives
of power broadly as ‘the production, in and through social relations, of effects that
shape the capacities of actors to determine their circumstances and fate’.54 Yet
even a comprehensive ‘taxonomy’ which results from such a broad definition can-
not disguise the fact that power figures most prominently in IR as a ‘variable’ in
causal explanation. Even those theories or ‘paradigms’ which were set up in oppo-
sition to realism—​such as ‘neoliberal institutionalism ‘, ‘liberalism’, or ‘construc-
tivism’55—​have primarily ‘attempted to demonstrate their theoretical salience by
demonstrating how ‘power’ variables are not causally consequential in their expla-
nation of empirical outcomes’.56 Against this background it is not surprising that
(international) ‘law’ is treated as just another possible variable (or ordering device)
in accounting for ‘outcomes’ in international politics—​which is obviously at odds
with the understanding and uses of law in IL.
In the following I will highlight a few persistent themes in IR scholarship which
illustrate how a causal and instrumental understanding of both power and law has
shaped disciplinary ways of theorizing order. Much more briefly I  will contrast
these understandings with ways of theorizing power and law in international legal
thought.

1. Balance of power theory

If ‘anarchy’ is one of the core ideas in theorizing order in international politics
the concept of ‘balance of power’ is the corresponding conceptual tool to theorize
ordering mechanisms or devices to provide for ‘stability within a system composed
of a number of autonomous forces’.57 The origins of the ‘balance of power’ concept
date back to a time when ‘inter-​national’ politics was not yet associated with a
‘Westphalian’ state system. As a matter of fact, what is known today as the balance
of power ‘theory’58 was encapsulated by the idea of counterbalancing hegemony
and a system of checks and balances as it was reflected in the work of historians and
political theorists who described and analysed the relations that existed among the
Italian city states in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Since then the concept
has experienced different mythical, metaphorical, and/​or analytical uses in different

54 Michael Barnett and Raymond Duvall, ‘Power in International Politics’, International

Organization 59 (2005), 39–​75, at 42; see also Guzzini, Power, Realism and Constructivism, pp. 1–​12
(n. 53).
55  See the respective overview chapters: Arthur A. Stein (‘Neoliberal Institutionalism’ pp. 201–​21);
Andrew Moravcsik (‘The New Liberalism’, pp. 234–​54); and Ian Hurd (‘Constructivism’, pp. 298–​316)
in Christian Reus-​Smit and Duncan Snidal (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of International Relations (2008).
56  Barnett and Duvall, ‘Power in International Politics’, p. 40 (n. 54), emphasis added.
57 Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, p. 125 (n. 12).
58  See Waltz, Theory of International Politics, p. 117 (n. 13): ‘If there is any distinctively political
theory of international politics, balance-​of-​power is it.’
 475

Power and Law as Ordering Devices 475

disciplines.59 In IR the metaphorical association of the balance of power with scales,
a just equilibrium and a system of mutual restraints which was clearly present in
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries60 steadily gave way in succeeding centuries
to an understanding which increasingly focused on the measurability of power (in
terms of ‘capabilities’) thereby depriving the balance of power concept of its previ-
ous, almost natural, connection between an equitable distribution of power on the
one hand and a form of stability on the other hand which was also considered to
be legitimate.
This nexus between a certain distribution of power and stability on the one hand
and legitimacy (including a limited role for international law) on the other hand
was still present in the writings of Hans Morgenthau.61 For subsequent ‘neorealists’,
such as Kenneth Waltz, and ‘neoclassical realists’,62 however, it lost whatever lim-
ited role it might have had due to a particular way of practicing ‘social science’. In
this understanding scientific inquiry had to be subjected to certain ‘rigid’ criteria,
tests, and processes in order to count as ‘valid’. Accordingly debates surrounding
the balance of power during the past few decades have largely centred on the social
scientific prerequisites for actually stating what a particular balance of power theory
entailed as a ‘theory’,63 how one would demonstrate the value, ‘explanatory power’
or ‘falsifiability’ of such a theory,64 what was required to properly ‘operational-
ize variables’65 and/​or how one accurately ‘measured power’ and whatever balance
might have been present or absent in a particular historical phase or constellation.66

59  Richard Little, The Balance of Power in International Relations:  Metaphors, Myths and Models
(2007); Michael Sheehan, The Balance of Power: History and Theory (1996). See also Robert R. Sullivan,
‘Machiavelli’s Balance of Power Theory’, Social Science Quarterly 54 (1973), 258–​70 and the contribu-
tion by Roth-​Isigkeit on Machiavelli in this volume. On the shifting meaning of the notion of ‘balance
of power’ in the history international law and IL see Alfred Vagts and Detlev F. Vagts, ‘The Balance
of Power in International Law: A History of an Idea’, The American Journal of International Law 73
(1979), 555–​80.
60 Bull, Anarchical Society, pp. 31–​6 (n. 19); Little, Balance of Power, pp. 67–​8 (n. 59). On the bal-
ance of power as a system of restraint in a ‘republican security theory’ on the one hand and political
practice in the ‘natural “republic” of Europe’ see also Daniel H. Deudney, Bounding Power: Republican
Security Theory from the Polis to the Global Village (2007), pp. 136–​60.
61 Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, pp. 125–​66 (n. 12) and Felix Rösch, ‘Pouvoir, Puissance,
and Politics: Hans Morgenthau’s Dualistic Concept of Power?’, Review of International Studies 40
(2014), 349–​65. On the nexus between the balance of power and international law in Morgenthau’s
thought see also Koskenniemi, Gentle Civilizer, pp. 457–​9 and 471–​2 (n. 5).
62  Steven E. Lobell, Norrin M. Ripsman, and Jeffrey W. Taliaferro, Neoclassical Realism, the State,
and Foreign Policy (2009).
63 Waltz, Theory of International Politics, pp. 116–​28 (n. 13); John A. Vasquez and Colin Elman
(eds.), Realism and the Balancing of Power: A New Debate (2003); T.V. Paul, James J. Wirtz, and Michel
Fortmann, Balance of Power: Theory and Practice in the 21st Century (2004).
64 John A. Vasquez, ‘The Realist Paradigm and Degenerative versus Progressive Research
Programs: An Appraisal of Neotraditional Research on Waltz’s Balancing Proposition’, The American
Political Science Review 91 (1997), 899–​912 and Kenneth H. Waltz, ‘Evaluating Theories’, The American
Political Science Review 91 (1997), 913–​17; see also Douglas Lemke, ‘Great Powers in the Post-​Cold
War World: A Power Transition Perspective’, in Paul, Wirtz, and Fortmann, pp. 52–​75 (n. 63).
65 Randall L. Schweller, Deadly Imbalances:  Tripolarity and Hitler’s Strategy of World Conquest
(1998), ch. 1.
66  William C. Wohlforth, ‘Measuring Power—​and the Power of Theories’, in Vasquez and Elman,
pp. 250–​79 (n. 63); Stuart J. Kaufman, Richard Little, and William C. Wohlforth, The Balance of Power
in World History (2007), pp. 25–​6; William C. Wohlforth et al., ‘Testing Balance-​of-​Power Theory in
476

476 Gunther Hellmann

To what extent a particular configuration of the balance of power was an expression

of order or disorder, stability or instability—​not to mention a normative yard-
stick formulated in a vocabulary of justice or injustice67—​was no longer of central
importance. Moreover, the application of one of the most widespread standards of
this type of social science, the evaluation of a balance of power theory based on its
predictive value, quickly revealed to what extent it had almost degenerated into an
empty signifier.68
In any case, irrespective of whether the balance of power figured as ‘depend-
ent variable’ or as ‘independent variable’ in IR scholarship the causal weight of
legitimacy or international law in producing or preventing some form of order had
completely dropped out of the picture as a potential additional or possibly even
competing causal factor during the past decades. In contrast, legal scholarship con-
tinued to look at the idea or principle of the balance of power as one factor, among
others, in the production of order besides law.69

2. Democratic peace theory

Whereas the ‘balance of power’ has been one of the key reference points of ‘realist’
theorizing in IR the so-​called ‘democratic peace’ theory has in many ways fulfilled
a similar anchoring function in ‘liberal’ and ‘constructivist’ theorizing, i.e. those
‘paradigmatic’ orientations in IR with the strongest inclination to accord ‘norms’
or ‘law’ a major place in ordering international relations. Articles by Michael Doyle
from the 1980s in particular are usually cited as having generated renewed inter-
est in Kant as a proponent of a ‘liberal’ or ‘democratic peace’ theory. In contrast to
some of his more statistically inclined colleagues who concentrated on causal links
between democratic regime type and peace,70 Doyle invested some effort in addi-
tion in actually reconstructing Kant’s argument why world peace may not only be
an appealing moral ideal but also a realistic political goal.71 Rather than focusing

World History’, European Journal of International Relations 13 (2007), 155–​85; and Mette Eilstrup-​
Sangiovanni, ‘The End of Balance-​of-​Power Theory? A Comment on Wohlforth et al.: Testing Balance-​
of-​Power Theory in World History’, European Journal of International Relations 15 (2009), 347–​80.
67  For detailed examples from legal scholarship see Vagts and Vagts, ‘The Balance of Power in
International Law: A History of an Idea’ (n. 59).
68  Waltz was explicit early on that the ‘predictions’ of his balance of power theory were ‘indeter-
minate. Because only a loosely defined and inconstant condition of balance is predicted, it is difficult
to say that any given distribution of power falsifies the theory’; Waltz, Theory of International Politics,
p. 124 (n. 13). He merely wanted to ‘predict that, willy nilly, balances will form over time’; Waltz,
‘Evaluating Theories’, p. 915 (n. 64). See also John A. Vasquez, ‘The New Debate on Balancing Power.
A Reply to my Critics’, in Vasquez and Elman, pp. 87–​113 (n. 63) as well as the other chapters in
this volume for major controversies surrounding proper definitions, measures and adequate empirical
observations that either strengthened or weakened (‘falsified’) balance of power theory.
69 Koskenniemi, From Apology to Utopia, pp. 148–​51 (n. 43).
70  Lewis F. Richardson, The Statistics of Deadly Quarrels (1960); and Rudolph J. Rummel, War,
Power, Peace (1979) (also available as Understanding Conflict and War, Vol. 4 at <https://​www.hawaii.
edu/​powerkills/​NOTE13.HTM>, last accessed 8 February 2017).
71  Michael W. Doyle, ‘Kant, Liberal Legacies, and Foreign Affairs: Parts 1 and 2’, Philosophy and
Public Affairs 12 (1983), 205–​35 and 323–​53, reprinted in Michael W. Doyle, Liberal Peace: Selected
Essays (2012), pp. 13–​60.
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Power and Law as Ordering Devices 477

on single dimensions of state institutions and conduct or international interaction
as sources of peace—​as E.H. Carr did in grounding the ‘utopian background’ of the
‘Twenty Year’s Crisis’, among others, solely in Kant’s conviction that ‘there would
be no wars under a republican form of government’72 or as Morgenthau did when
he focused exclusively on Kant’s argument that ‘the commercial spirit cannot coex-
ist with war’73—​Doyle provided a detailed reconstruction of a multidimensional
causal argument about the connections between domestic republican government
(or ‘constitutional law’), international law and cosmopolitan law (‘which permits
the ‘spirit of commerce’ sooner or later to take hold of every nation’) on the one
hand and peace on the other. ‘No one of these constitutional, international or cos-
mopolitan sources is alone sufficient, but together (and only where together) they
plausibly connect the characteristics of liberal polities and economies with sustained
liberal peace.’74
To what extent any of these causal readings are doing justice to Kant’s Perpetual
Peace has been a matter of debate for some time.75 Among political theorists and
philosophers there has always been a tendency to emphasize the extent to which
‘Kant’s idea’ or ‘proposal’76 marked a ‘regulative idea’77 or ‘realistic utopia’.78 In
IR the so-​called ‘democratic’ or ‘Kantian peace’ research programme79 has instead
focused largely on a much more narrow reading of how one may causally explain
what was even claimed to be an ‘empirical law’80 according to which democracies
do not fight each other. In contrast to a reading of Kant which emphasizes (at a
minimum) the mutual constitution of the restraining force of republican govern-
ment, international law, cosmopolitan law, and peace, the overwhelming majority
of IR ‘liberal’ inquiries into the ‘Kantian peace’ treats any form of law as a periph-
eral causal ‘variable’ at best. Only the (domestic) rule of law plays a somewhat more

72  Edward H. Carr, The Twenty Year’s Crisis, 1919-​1939: An Introduction to the Study of International
Relations (1964), p. 25.
73 Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, p. 310 (n. 12).
74  Doyle, ‘Kant, Liberal Legacies, and Foreign Affairs: Parts 1 and 2’, pp. 26–​9 (n. 71), last quote on
p. 29, emphasis added. See also the contribution by Vischer on Kant in this volume.
75  Eric S. Easley, The War over Perpetual Peace: An Exploration into the History of a Foundational
International Relations Text (2004). For a detailed critique of Doyle’s reading of Kant see also Tomas
Baum, ‘A Quest for Inspiration in the Liberal Peace Paradigm: Back to Bentham?’, European Journal of
International Relations 14 (2008), 431–​53.
76  Jürgen Habermas, ‘Kant’s Idea of Perpetual Peace, with the Benefit of Two Hundred Years’
Hindsight’, in Ciaran Cronin and Pablo De Greiff (eds.), Habermas: The Inclusion of the Other: Studies
in Political Theory (1998), pp. 165–​201, at pp. 166, 179.
77 Martti Koskenniemi, ‘Formalism, Fragmentation, Freedom: Kantian Themes in Today’s
International Law’, No Foundations: Journal of Extreme Legal Positivism 4 (2007), 7–​28, at 22; Robert
B. Loudon, ‘Cosmopolitical Unity: The Final Destiny of the Human Species’, in Alix Cohen (ed.),
Kant’s Lectures on Anthropology: A Critical Guide (2014), pp. 211–​29, at p. 228.
78  James Bohman, ‘Beyond the Democratic Peace: An Instrumental Justification of Transnational
Democracy’, Journal of Social Philosophy 37 (2006), 127–​38, at 128.
79  For an overview see Steve Chan, ‘Programmatic Research on the Democratic Peace’, in Robert A.
Denemark (ed.), The International Studies Encyclopedia (2010).
80  Jack S. Levy, ‘Domestic Politics in War’, in Robert I. Rotberg and Theodore K. Rabb (eds.), The
Origin and Prevention of Major Wars (1989), p. 88.
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478 Gunther Hellmann

visible role81—​but even here it mostly shows up as a component part of highly

aggregated and complex ‘variables’ such as ‘democracy’82 (sometimes split up into
‘normative’ and ‘structural’ dimensions)83 or ‘liberal ideas’.84 ‘International organi-
zation’ as one of three variables in a prominent ‘triangular’ explanation of mutually
reinforcing factors which produce peace comes closest to a systemic variable that
entails legal or normative constraints.85 In sum, even in cases where ‘power’ plays
only a marginal role in explaining a certain state of ‘order’ (as in liberal IR theoriz-
ing of ‘war’ and ‘peace’) ‘law’ figures only indirectly in accounting for it.

3. Regime theory
The reference in the previous paragraph to ‘international organizations’ as a pos-
sible variable in accounting for certain configurations of international order at the
intersection of power and law nicely serves as segue into a final illustration of how
IR conceptualizes and theorizes order. Theorizing ‘international organization(s)’ in
the context of ‘regime theory’86 is an interesting example in the context of our dis-
cussion because it is situated somewhere ‘between’ forms of theorizing order which
either focus exclusively on power (as ‘balance of power’ theory) or largely sideline
it (as ‘democratic peace’ theory). Moreover, it also exhibits a particular understand-
ing of ‘norms’ which illustrates some fundamental disciplinary differences between
IR (as a ‘social science’) and IL (as a ‘teleological project’ and ‘rhetorical practice’).
Historically the subject matter of ‘international organization’ was viewed not so
much as a subfield of IR ‘as practically the core of the discipline’.87 What is more,
in the field’s self-​description ‘the dominant viewpoint’ had for a long time been ‘the
viewpoint of international law and organization’ where the underlying ‘conception
of scholarship’ was said to be ‘to discover the goals and objectives toward which
international society ought to be tending’.88 In the course of gradually positioning

81  Vesna Danilovic and Joe Clare, ‘The Kantian Liberal Peace (Revisited)’, American Journal of
Political Science 51 (2007), 397–​414.
82 Tarak Barkawi and Mark Laffey, ‘The Imperial Peace:  Democracy, Force and Globalization’,
European Journal of International Affairs 5 (1999), 403–​34, at 405–​10.
83  Zeev Maoz and Bruce M. Russett, ‘Normative and Structural Causes of Democratic Peace,
1946–​1986’, American Political Science Review 87 (1993), 624–​38.
84  John M. Owen, ‘How Liberalism Produces Democratic Peace’, International Security 19 (1994),
87–​125, at 93–​104. For a discussion of the different, sometimes even contradictory meanings of ‘lib-
eralism’ and ‘democracy’ see Seyla Benhabib et al., ‘The Untidy World of Liberal Democracies’, in The
Democratic Disconnect: Citizenship and Accountability in the Transatlantic Community (2013), pp. 7–​19.
85 Bruce M. Russett and John R. Oneal, Triangulating Peace:  Democracy, Interdependence, and
International Organizations (2001).
86  For overviews and discussions of conceptual distinctions in IR of concepts such as ‘interna-
tional organization/​s’, ‘institutions’, and ‘regimes’ see Christer Jönsson, ‘Theoretical Approaches to
International Organization’, in Robert A. Denemark (eds.), The International Studies Encyclopedia
(2010), and Benjamin Meiches and Raymond Hopkins, ‘Regime Theory’, in Robert A. Denemark
(ed.), The International Studies Encyclopedia (2010).
87 J. Martin Rochester, ‘The Rise and Fall of International Organization as a Field of Study’,
International Organization 40 (1986), 777–​813, at 780.
88 Kenneth W. Thompson, ‘The Study of International Politics:  A  Survey of Trends and
Developments’, Review of Politics 14 (1952), 433–​6, at 436.
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Power and Law as Ordering Devices 479

itself as a social ‘science’ IR increasingly turned against these traditions in favour
of more ‘rigorous’ ‘theory’. One outflow of this shift was the research programme
on ‘international cooperation’ and ‘international regimes’ which took shape against
the diagnostic of an increasingly ‘interdependent’ world where the maintenance
of order could no longer be fashioned by states alone.89 Building on a Lakatosian
rhetoric of a ‘progressive’ problem shift the new research programme was said to
keep the realist core’s ‘fundamental insights about world politics and state action’
but ‘adapt’ it.90 Where realists treated international regimes and institutions as
mere instruments of state action91 ‘neoliberal institutionalists’ allowed for coop-
eration to ‘emerge’ even ‘under anarchy’92 if certain conditions prevailed. Among
others ‘international regimes’—​defined as ‘sets of implicit or explicit principles,
norms, rules, and decision-​making procedures around which actors’ expectations
converge in a given area of international relations—​were seen as possibly affecting
state behavior and international outcomes as ‘intervening variables’.93
For the purposes of our discussion this research programme is particularly inter-
esting because it prominently employed a legal vocabulary (‘rules’, ‘norms’ etc.) in
such a way that the causal effects of norms on taming power competition might be
studied and the limits of pure power-​based approaches be shown. Yet the actual
uses of this vocabulary illustrated precisely where the differences between IL and
IR lie: ‘Norms’ and ‘rules’ are not only treated as causal variables but as problem-​
solving devices. This implies that the states which employ these devices are concep-
tualized as having existed prior to the regimes which they create, maintain or ignore.
In other words, regimes are treated as the result of a utilitarian (i.e. rationalist and
individualist) calculus of pre-​existing states without any regard to the underlying
normative contexts in which they themselves are embedded.94 More importantly
still, from a sociological point of view the way in which ‘norms’ are conceptual-
ized misconstrues their function in social action. As Kratochwil and Ruggie have
pointed out early on, a one-​sided fixation on norms as ‘causes’ does not do justice
to central dimensions of the operation of norms and rules in social interaction.
‘Norms may “guide” behavior, they may “inspire” behavior, they may “rationalize”
or “justify” behavior, they may express “mutual expectations” about behavior, or
they may be ignored. But they do not effect cause in the sense that a bullet through

89  Robert O. Keohane and Joseph S. Nye, Power and Interdependence: World Politics in Transition
(1977); Robert O. Keohane, After Hegemony:  Cooperation and Discord in World Political Economy
(1984).
90  Robert O. Keohane, ‘Theory of World Politics. Structural Realism and Beyond’, in Robert O.
Keohane (ed.), Neorealism and its Critics (1986), pp. 158–​203, at pp. 159–​61.
91  John J. Mearsheimer, ‘The False Promise of International Institutions’, International Security 19
(1994), 5–​49.
92 Kenneth A. Oye, ‘Explaining Cooperation Under Anarchy. Hypotheses and Strategies’, in
Kenneth A. Oye (ed.), Cooperation Under Anarchy (1986), pp. 1–​24, at pp. 1–​2.
93 Stephen D. Krasner, ‘Structural Causes and Regime Consequences:  Regimes as Intervening
Variables’, in Stephen D. Krasner (ed.), International Regimes (1983), pp. 1–​21, at p. 2.
94  Richard K. Ashley, ‘The Poverty of Neorealism’, International Organization 38 (1984), 225–​
86, at 243–​4, and Andreas Hasenclever, Peter Mayer, and Volker Rittberger, Theories of International
Regimes (1997), pp. 158–​60.
480

480 Gunther Hellmann

the heart causes death or an uncontrolled surge in the money supply causes price
inflation.’95
These and similar functions of norms had been of key interest at times when
‘political science’ was still defined as a practical discipline where ‘prudence rather
than theoretical knowledge’ was cherished and when scholarly inquiry did not yet
have to ‘satisfy the epistemological ideal’.96 To the extent that IR was now prac-
ticed as social ‘science’ these practical (and by necessity normative) dimensions of
social action were not only beyond its self-​imposed methodological means but also
beyond its interest.

III. Conclusion

In IR the whole of the relations between, and interactions among, states are custom-
arily labeled ‘international system’. At first sight it is irritating, however, to speak
of a ‘system of International Relations’ where reference is made to the academic
discipline rather than its subject matter. Still, as mentioned earlier, the epistemic
dimension of the meaning of ‘system’ (as it has been introduced in this volume) does
entail those disciplining functions which the editors identify—​i.e. systems being
man-​made, representing the exercise of theorizing itself and describing how a system
of thought integrates different phenomena under one or more guiding ideas.97
To the extent that IR can be meaningfully described as a system in this sense it
had over the past century gradually become a discipline which almost celebrated
‘anarchy’ as a unique identity-​generating idea and disciplinary anchoring concept
on the one hand and an ‘ordering principle’ with regard to the subject of the disci-
pline on the other hand. The confluence of a particular brand of regularity-​fixated
social ‘science’ and a spreading acceptance of ‘non-​reductionist’ systemic theorizing
meant that systemic processes (as they are reflected in the debates about the balance
of power, the democratic peace, and international regimes) largely marginalized key
social practices in the international realm (such as the practices of ‘foreign policy’
and ‘diplomacy’) because they obviously entailed contingencies of human agency
which were deemed essentially ‘untheorizable’—​at least in the standard (‘positivist’)
epistemological understanding of regularity and generalizability.
As a result, those forms of practical reasoning and judgment which still formed
a disciplinary link between international legal and political thought before the
twentieth century were either marginalized or relegated to the practice of provid-
ing ‘policy recommendations’ which supposedly followed almost naturally from
observed regularities. Yet given the achievements of IR as an academic discipline the
‘system of International Relations’ seems to have succeeded in establishing the sort

95  Friedrich Kratochwil and John G. Ruggie, ‘International Organization: A State of the Art on an
Art of the State’, International Organization 40 (1986), 753–​75, at 767.
96  See the discussion of IR and IL ‘inter-​disciplinarity’ in Kratochwil, The Status of Law in World
Society, pp. 26–​49, at p. 27 (n. 5).
97  Kadelbach, Kleinlein, and Roth-​Isigkeit, in this volume, pp. 7–9.
 481

Power and Law as Ordering Devices 481

of ‘equilibrium’ or ‘stability’ among the different ‘autonomous forces’ within the
discipline—​to hark back to Morgenthau’s description of the ‘balance of power’98—​
which is a precondition for disciplinary survival. This ‘equilibrium’ may yet provide
room for alternative forms of theorizing order which reconnect to some of the dis-
regarded forms of practical reasoning—​and thereby reconnect in novel ways with
international legal thought.

98 Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations (n. 12).

482

23
Universalism and Particularism
A Dichotomy to Read Theories on International Order

Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

I. Introduction

There is, as this book shows, an enormous wealth of diverse theories (or systems) on
what today is understood as international order. Systematizing them (i.e. ordering
by reflected criteria) can provide for better understanding and making that wealth
more productive, in particular by comparative and dialectic thinking. This contri-
bution* is to show the potential of the paradigms of universalism and particularism
in this respect.
Systematizing should follow relevant questions. We do so by three sets of con-
temporary issues on how to understand international order:  common interests,
individual rights, and authority. The first concerns the relationships between poli-
ties. Is the idea that the international order binds them together in the pursuit of
the common good meaningful, or is the idea of a common good meaningful only
with respect to an individual polity? Or, to give another example, should a decision
by international courts be understood, today, as being taken only in the name of
the states contesting in the proceeding, or rather in the name of some larger com-
munity? The second set concerns the treatment of individuals: does international
law contain universal standards on how individuals are to be treated, no matter
by what authority? If so, are those standards to be broadly or narrowly construed?
And do they amount to true rights that individuals enjoy? How do such rights
relate to the rights of nationals? The third set of issues concerns the organization of
power: should the international order be backed up by international bodies with
universal outlook, as institutions of global governance for a global community or
even cosmopolitan citizenship? If so, what are the possible resources of authority
of such institutions, and of their legitimacy? How do they relate to the nation and
the state?

*  We thank Leonie Vierck for editing this text.

Universalism and Particularism: A Dichotomy to Read Theories on International Order. Armin von
Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle. © Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle, 2017. Published 2017
by Oxford University Press.
 483

Universalism and Particularism 483

These longstanding questions have been treated by many great texts. We purport
that most texts can be systematized by the thrust of how they address the three guid-
ing sets of issues. This in turn can help to develop answers for the contemporary
concerns. The systematization occurs by a distinction between two fundamental
approaches to these questions − approaches which we define as paradigms: particu-
larism on the one hand; universalism on the other.1 The authors who can be seen as
universalists tend to assume the idea of global common goods meaningful, advocate
individual rights no matter what, and support international institutions to advance
those ends. Particularists, by contrast, tends to be skeptical and even negative on
all these issues. We think that systematizing the various answers with the respective
arguments along these two paradigms is a path to insight and advancement. This,
however, requires first reflecting on the two concepts (Section II.). Then, we apply
them not only—​quite cursorily − to frame the attitudes of some of the authors pre-
sented in this volume with regard to the questions related to the possible extension
of the ‘well-​ordered society’, but also—​in some more details—​to detect the pres-
ence of the dichotomy in twentieth-​century theories (Section III.). Our outlook
shows, finally, how some strands of contemporary thinking try to overcome the
dichotomous character of the distinction, and how the dichotomy remains never-
theless useful (Section IV.).

II.  Universalism and Particularism—​The Meaning, Value,

and Limits of a Dichotomy

1. Particularism and universalism as paradigms of order

Particularistic theories see little common normativity beyond polities and conflict
as the default condition. Three ontological assertions are important for theories to
be classified as particularistic: that any polity exists in a primarily conflictual relation
to other polities; that any normative order beyond polities is irremediably precari-
ous; that a viable polity needs to be strongly integrated. By contrast, universalistic
positions assert common principles among all humans, and, on that basis, are more
positive about the possibility of public order on a transnational and eventually
global scale. Universalist thinking does not deny conflict as essential to human
interaction. But it usually holds that such conflicts can and should be peacefully
processed according to those common principles.

1 We build on earlier common texts: Armin von Bogdandy, Sergio Dellavalle, ‘Parochialism,
Cosmopolitanism, and the Paradigms of International Law’, in Mortimer N.S. Sellers (ed.),
Parochialism, Cosmopolitanism, and the Foundations of International Law (2012), pp. 40ff.; Armin von
Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle, ‘Universalism Renewed. Habermas’ Theory of International Order in
Light of Competing Paradigms’, German Law Journal 10(1) (2009), 5. For a detailed account: Sergio
Dellavalle, Dalla comunità particolare all’ordine universale. Vol. I: I paradigmi storici (2011), pp. 2ff.;
Dellavalle, ‘The Plurality of States and the World Order of Reason: On Hegel’s Understanding of
International Law and Relations’ (see Chapter 17 in this volume).
48

484 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

We present these two understandings as paradigms. As a paradigm we see a set of

foundational concepts which shape the use of theoretical and practical reason when
applied, within a specific historical context, to a particular matter of knowledge
and field of action. Against the background of this general definition, ‘paradigms of
social order’ are those paradigms that refer to the conditions for a peaceful and gen-
erally advantageous social interaction. Among the questions that every paradigm of
order has to address is the feasible extension of social order. More concretely, we can
conceive of order by assuming that peaceful and cooperative interaction can only be
achieved within the boundaries of limited and rather homogeneous communities,
whereas beyond them order is inherently precarious. International law, at its core,
is then more about limiting disorder. Universalist thinking, by contrast, holds that
peaceful and cooperative interaction are in principle possible at a transnational and
even worldwide level. The sets of concepts that respectively form the fundament of
the two understandings of order are the paradigms at the core of our analysis: par-
ticularism as the paradigm which assumes the inherent limitation of the extension
of order; and universalism as the paradigm which posits the idea of a global well-​
ordered society as a principle of understanding and action.
The extension of order is not the only question that can—​or rather must—​be
addressed by a paradigm of social order. Further essential components are the onto-
logical basis for a well-​ordered society, as well as its unitary or pluralist structure.
As regards the first issue, a well-​ordered society can be based on the priority of the
community and of its alleged interests; or, instead, it can give preference to rights
and liberties of the individuals. In the first case, order has a holistic character; in the
second, by contrast, it is individualistic. As a result, insofar as paradigms of order
combine claims as regards both the extension and the ontological basis for a well-​
ordered society, particularism can be holistic, if it prioritizes the benefit of the com-
munity; or individualistic, if it favours the interests of the community members.
On the other hand, we have a variant of universalism as well, which relies on the
assumption of a worldwide community of humankind; and another one, which
refers to the universalization of individual interests and rationality.
However, the theories of the past mostly seem a bit simplistic to us today. We
will explain this with a transition from unitary to post-​unitary conceptions of
order. This transition has introduced—​as we will sketch towards the end of this
contribution—​significant changes into the overall landscape of the paradigms of
order. For now, we only note, for the purpose of a conceptual clarification at the
beginning of our analysis, that particularism and universalism are kinds of ‘limited’
paradigms of order, in the sense that they are conceptually derived from restraining
the analysis of the paradigms of order to only one of their features, namely to the
question of the extension of a well-​ordered society, and to the most relevant among
the possible answers that can be given to it.
Before we move on to justify our proposal to conceive of the relation between
particularism and universalism as a dichotomy, one more element should be stressed
as regards our use of the concept of ‘paradigm’. In fact, we apply the ‘paradigms’
of ‘particularism’ and ‘universalism’ to theories the authors of which, in the most
cases, give to these concepts only a quite marginal role, or do not employ them at
 485

Universalism and Particularism 485

all. In other words, qualifying a theory as being universalistic or particularistic is a
choice—​specifically, our choice—​very often not supported by a self-​qualification
by the author to be found in the analysed text or theory. It would be wrong, how-
ever, to conclude that the conceptual framework used to analyse the object is just an
arbitrary creation of the observer to systematize the materials of the research from
a perspective which arises essentially from her or his interests, being thus rather
alien to the main thrust of the theories themselves. To the contrary, we claim that
our paradigms, though they do not mirror the texts in all their richness, grasp an
important inherent aspect of them, helping not only to organize our thinking in
light of contemporary issues, but also to better locate the authors in the history of
legal and political ideas and to understand how ideas have developed in the past.

2. On the functions and status of the dichotomy

In our analysis, we arrange the two paradigms of particularism and universalism
as a dichotomy. Dichotomies are heuristic instruments, as dualisms are a standard
tool in modern European thinking. They are used to provide for understanding,
orientation and evaluation, insofar as they help to structure a field of theories with
their arguments.
Dichotomies can have several uses. There is a possible classificatory use, accord-
ing to which a theory is either the one or the other; the attention being fixed on,
precisely, classification. That helps in providing a first structure. Dichotomies can,
however, also support comparison, providing for a scale, a continuum, usually
between two extreme theories (e.g. Machiavelli v. Kant, Kelsen v. Schmitt). In this
case, it helps to order the many shades of grey, as is the case with most of the theories
presented in this book. Not least, dichotomies are an essential elements of dialectic
thinking which aims at overcoming the dichotomy, knowing that each overcoming
is likely to produce a new dichotomy. This is a constructive use which aims at devel-
oping an original idea from using elements from theories reconstructed in this light.
Much of the theory developed in our days seems to be heading there. In any event,
such ordering helps telling a history of political thought: reading past theories in
the light of these two opposing paradigms allows for a richer interpretation than the
presupposition of linear progress.
A dichotomy has, therefore, at least three different dimensions—​the classi-
ficatory, the comparative, and the constructive—​which are generally difficult
to be kept clearly distinct. We use the epistemological instrument by including
all three dimensions into our considerations. Moreover, we maintain also that
the concepts of particularism and universalism imply each other—​and this in
a twofold sense: first, because the definition of the one concept is only possible
if we have an idea of what is the opposite; and second, since in almost every
expression of particularism lies a piece of universalism, be it even so small, and
vice versa. Let us clarify this with an example. We can imagine the opposite
concepts of a dichotomy as the two ends of a rope, which is tightened between
them. The rope represents the continuity that binds the two extremes. On this
rope are situated, more or less near to one end—​and, thus, to one concept of the
486

486 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

dichotomy—​the different theories on international law and the thinkers who

stand as their authors. But does this construction mean that there is no break
in continuity on the line that binds particularism and universalism? Not pre-
cisely. In fact, we can assume that there is a kind of red knot on the rope, which
divides the rather universalistic from the essentially particularistic theories. The
red knot, specifically, is marked by different answers—​the one given by the theo-
ries on the right side of the red knot; the other by those on the left side—​to two
distinct questions:
a) first, can the well-​ordered society expand in principle to a cosmopolitan reach
or not? No matter how subtle the nuances may be, all theories of international
law—​as we will try to demonstrate in the next section—​can be read as giving
an unequivocal answer to this most fundamental question at the basis of the
dichotomy.
b) And, second, from where does the legitimation to shape the rules of the well-​
ordered society and to interpret them come from? Is the source to be located
in the individual community and in its institutions, or in something which is
situated beyond it?
Most interestingly, the divide turns out to be positioned in the same spot for both
questions, so that we have only one red knot, or break in continuity. And this is
precisely the point where the difference lies between the two core concepts at the
basis of our inquiry.
As we already anticipated before, dichotomies are not self-​evident, since they are
usually not used by the texts to which they are applied. Moreover, dichotomies are
often not neutral.2 The dichotomy at hand provides a fine example: this dichotomy,
though not the terminology, saw the light of the day with an ideological purpose in
the interwar years.3 It was set up, as the ‘realists’ vs. ‘idealists’, to discredit a number
of authors on how to understand and evolve the interwar order. The proponents of
what we see as particularistic positions were successful in that: it seems evident that
on international order a ‘realist’ appears to be more trustworthy than an unduly
normative ‘idealist’.4
There are more caveats to observe. The use as a classificatory instruments tends to
guide attention to theories which are laying out uncompromisingly one of the poles
is a clever way to academic fame. Some of the success of Machiavelli’s Prince, Carl
Schmitt’s Concept of the Political and certainly much of that of Eric Posner’s and Jack
Goldsmith’s Limits of International Law can be explained by that.

2  Karl Acham, Philosophie der Sozialwissenschaften (1983), p. 45.

3  E.H. Carr, The Twenty Years’ Crisis: An Introduction to the Study of International Relations (1940);
Jens Steffek and Leonie Holthaus (eds.), Jenseits der Anarchie:  Weltordnungsentwürfe im frühen 20.
Jahrhundert (2014).
4  For a detailed analysis of how ‘realists’ misrepresented ‘idealists’, see Andreas Osiander, ‘Missionare
oder Analytiker? Versuch einer Neubewertung der “idealistischen” Schule in der Lehre von den
Internationalen Beziehungen’, in Steffek and Holthaus (n. 3), p. 25.
 487

Universalism and Particularism 487

The dichotomy universalism and particularism is not to be applied directly to inter-
national law, but to academic texts5 on international order. Such texts are the actual
object of this contribution. Yet, insofar as legal theories read either instruments of
international law or their judicial interpretations as examples of ‘particularism’ or
of ‘universalism’, the paradigms can also be employed—​although indirectly—​to
legal instruments and their judicial interpretation. Even within the horizon of this
restraint, a consciousness of the fluidity and contingency of those great intellectual
movements is required. A critical perspective seems all the more adequate in our
time, during which stable intellectual dominants have been put into question.6
Thus, the traditional set of conceptual instruments, much of it developed by the
authors presented in this book, seems to be unable to adequately grasp phenomena
of growing legalization on a transnational and global scale. This crisis of normal
science may suggest the probability of a coming change of paradigms;7 others even
perceive this as the nearing end of systems thought as such.8 This touches imme-
diately on the question of particularism and universalism as guiding ideas for the
general theme of this volume: the question of the adequate theory (system) building
on order in international law. European theories developed until the nineteenth
century are hard to apply to today’s age of globalization.
Though the basic orientations of universalism and particularism are worlds apart,
they depend on each other, which is why they form a dichotomy. Their respective
meaning flows from their inner reference to each other. Arguments that designate a
European classics of international law as universalistic or particularistic respectively
stand in an indivisible relation with elements of the contrary position. Particularity
without reference to universality is almost meaningless. Equally, universality only
gains its content of meaning from the existence of particularities. The philosophical
critique of metaphysics in the twentieth century has laid bare the roots and the con-
tingency of such thinking and raised the question whether this dualist perspective
already contains in itself a value judgment against multitude, variety, and plurality.
Whatever one takes from this, that critique confirms that the dichotomy of univer-
salism and particularism flows from prior basic orientations and that they contain
a value judgment.
If the theories become more nuanced, the dichotomy does not necessarily lose
explanatory potential. In light of theoretical relatedness and penetration, they may
prove to be of epistemological use.9 Certainly, their role is changing: instead of
bringing about systematic division, they serve to connect contrary concepts, and
by doing so they may contribute to further theoretical development substantially.10

5  ‘Systems’, in the logic of the title of this book.

6  Sergio Dellavalle, ‘Beyond Particularism: Remarks on Some Recent Approaches to the Idea of
a Universal Political and Legal Order’, European Journal of International Law 21(3) (2010), 765–88,
pp. 766 and 786.
7  Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (3rd edn, 2008).
8  Jean-​Francois Lyotard, La condition postmoderne: rapport sur le savoir (1979).
9  Heinz Heimsoeth, Die sechs großen Themen der abendländischen Metaphysik (4th edn, 1958), p. 38.
10  Niklas Luhmann, Macht (1975), p. 43.
48

488 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

Thus, the value judgment in favour of a dualist description of the world leads to
a simplifying structure, in which the mutually referring pair of concepts generates
a high theoretical productivity. However, the relation of mutual reference needs
to be contextualized, ranging from an almost total negation of the contrary posi-
tion (as with Machiavelli), up to the conscious adaptation to elements of the con-
trary position, as in many cases of contemporary theories, in particular pluralism.
Contemporary theory has developed much mutual permeation and enrichment.
To end, the very idea that there is a field of international law that can be brought
into a system by whatever kind of thought flows from a specific and probably cul-
turally contingent historical tradition of western metaphysics, an idea put into
question in important parts of contemporary theory in favour of pure plurality.11
At this point, we maintain that our conceptual dichotomy for systematizing a theo-
retical field is informed by a normative decision in favour of a coherent legal system
in the first place.

III.  Applying the Dichotomy

1. Applying the dichotomy to the classics

We have compared the concept of particularism and universalism, in a metaphor-
ical sense, to the poles of a rope straightened between them, with the different
theories—​and their authors—​located at some point at a certain distance to the
extremes. The picture illustrates that—​except for the few theories that represent the
perfect and uncompromising realization of one of the paradigms—​most of them
contain elements of both conceptions. This insights flows from the detailed analyses
in the first part of this volume. We will not restate their outcomes. Nevertheless,
a few examples can be useful for a better understanding of the question. Whereas
Machiavelli appears to be the undisputed embodiment of particularism and its
philosophical champion, no other author is so unequivocal. Bodin, another beacon
of particularism, grounds his idea of political order on the particularistic concept
of sovereignty, but recognizes the relevance of divine and natural law, the two pil-
lars of universalism in Western thought. The second framer of modern sovereignty,
Hobbes, though mostly concentrated on the way to legitimate properly the par-
ticular Commonwealth, has an unquestionably universal understanding of the
individual as a holder of rights, interests and reason. And Rousseau, who shares
his predominant interest in domestic politics with Hobbes, is not indifferent to the
question of order beyond the individual polity, as testified by his commentary to
the peace project of the Abbé de Saint-​Pierre.12
On the side of the thinkers considered as committed universalists, things are
also more nuanced than we could assume at first glance. Beginning with Vitoria

11  See the contribution of Koskenniemi in this volume.

12  Jean Jacques Rousseau, ‘Jugement sur la paix perpétuelle’ (1755), in Jean-​Jacques Rousseau,
Collection complète des œuvres, vol. XII (1782–​1789), pp. 40ff.
 489

Universalism and Particularism 489

and moving on to Suárez, Gentili, and Grotius, until Pufendorf and Wolff, all
authors involved with the creation of a modern law of nations articulate their con-
ceptions of order by resorting preeminently to the universal framework of natural
law. However, they are all well aware—​each of them in his own way—​of the signifi-
cance of parochial power. Indeed, Vitoria rejects as first among the great Christian
philosophers the universal claim not only of the Emperor but also of the Pope;13
Suárez acknowledges the specificity of the leges civiles within the horizon of natural
law;14 and though both Gentili and Grotius ground the laws of war on the funda-
ment of a universal community of humankind, the first justifies preemptive war,15
and the second admits that ‘the laws of each state consult the utility of that state’.16
Furthermore, while Pufendorf largely identifies the fundamental tenets of natu-
ral law with the principles of the law of nations,17 nevertheless the most essential
force that shapes natural law—​as well as the law of nations—​in his understand-
ing, namely the need for social cooperation as a result of individual weakness,18 is
first realized within the limited range of the individual community, and not on a
worldwide scale.19 Lastly, Christian Wolff maintains that the civitas maxima is an
organic whole which unites all nations on the basis of the universal natural law,20
but justifies the right of a nation to wage war in order to defend its entitlements
and interests.21
As a result, the black-​and-​white picture that was suggested by the application of
the dichotomy between particularism and universalism seems to fade away, turning
into innumerable shades of grey. Is thus the dichotomy useless, at best, or even a
misleading conceptual instrument for the mapping of the modern Western body of
thought on what we understand today as international law? Not really. Regardless of
the many nuances and of the importance of highlighting them, we specified above
that in the continuum that binds—​and separates—​particularism and universalism
a dividing point can be identified, and that this ‘red knot’ distinguishes the two
camps on the basis of two criteria: the possibility of a cosmopolitan order, and the
source of the legitimacy of social, political and legal order. And indeed, if we apply
these criteria to the authors, two factions can be separated clearly. Starting in the
particularistic camp with Bodin, it is surely true that he recognizes the relevance of
natural and divine law, but it is also indubitable that, first, the interpretation of that
law lies only in the hands of the individual sovereign, so that an order beyond the
borders of the single state is made at least unlikely and precarious, if not downright

13  Francisco de Vitoria, ‘Relectio prior de Indis recenter inventis’ (1538–​1539), in Walter Schätze
(ed.), Francisco de Vitoria De Indis recenter inventis et de jure belli Hispanorum in Barbaros (1952), pp.
48ff.
14  Francisco Suarez, ‘De legibus, ac Deo legislatore’ (1612), in Francisco Suarez, Selections from
Three Works, Book III (1944), pp. 196ff.
15  Alberico Gentili, De jure belli libri tres (1612), Book I (1933), Chapt. XIV, pp. 101ff.
16  Hugo Grotius, De jure belli ac pacis (English trans: The Rights of Law and Peace, ed. Richard Tuck)
(2005), 1749.
17  Samuel Pufendorf, De jure naturae et gentium libri octo (1672), Book VIII (1995), chs. VIff.
18  Ibid., Book II, chs. IIff. 19  Ibid., Book VII, chs. Iff.
20  Christian Wolff, Institutiones juris naturae et gentium, Book IX (1750), ch. I, § V.
21  Ibid., Book IX, ch. VII.
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490 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

impossible. Second, the particularistic power of the sovereign is the unique source
for the legitimacy of social, political and legal order. Changing sides, although all
supporters of universalistic order acknowledge to some extent the individuality of
the single polities, the reason for the legitimacy of order is located either in the law
of God and nature, or in the general sociability of humans—​both unequivocally
cosmopolitan in scope and essence. As a result, cosmopolitan order is not only
possible and desirable, but also the only legitimate order per se, so that the social,
political and legal orders of the single polities, to be fully legitimate, are to be estab-
lished within the context of the purposes of the higher universalistic order.
A special case is the position of contractualists like Hobbes, Rousseau, and
Kant. At first, indeed, the contract theory of state was created in order to identify
a new source of legitimacy for the public power of the single political community.
However, since this source has been located in the individuals—​and these individu-
als were conceived of not as members of a culturally embedded community, but as
abstract holders of rights, interests and reason—​no convincing justification could
be found why the legitimate order should stop at the borders of the single polity.
If individuals can justify the establishment of domestic public power by means of
a contract, why should they not bind themselves—​by means of a contract too—​to
shape a cosmopolitan legal community of humanity, under the only condition that
all human beings are seen as equal and rational in a worldwide perspective? This is
the reason why contractualism started as a theory of sovereignty with Hobbes, and
ended—​with Kant—​as the most powerful advocacy for universalism in the modern
history of philosophy. Kant was also the first thinker to introduce a tripartition
of public law in domestic, international, and cosmopolitan law.22 His failure to
conceive of sovereignty as shared, however, proved to be an insuperable obstacle
for the transition from a groundbreaking intuition to an unequivocal and feasible
proposal.
The outcome of this short overview shows that there are good reasons to main-
tain that the dichotomy of particularism and universalism is perfectly applicable
to the outstanding philosophies on international system and order between the
beginning of the sixteenth and the end of eighteenth century. The dichotomy also
provides a valuable instrument for a better understanding of how these authors
have addressed one of the most fundamental questions related to social, political
and legal order.
At the end of the golden era of the modern philosophy of international law,
Hegel was then the first thinker to pave the way for a new paradigm beyond the
dichotomy, in which the identity of the polity and universal reason are reconceptu-
alized under an explicitly multilayered idea of order. But, before we explore the new
intellectual landscape beyond the dichotomy, we shall first concentrate on whether
the distinction between particularism and universalism can still be helpful for the
analysis of twentieth century theories.

22 Immanuel Kant, ‘Zum ewigen Frieden: Ein philosophischer Entwurf ’, in Immanuel Kant,
Werkausgabe (1977), Wilhelm Weischedel (ed.), vol. XI, p. 203.
 491

Universalism and Particularism 491

2. Particularism in 20th-​century theories: Carl Schmitt and beyond

As Machiavelli was the champion of particularism in Modern Ages’ philosophy,
Carl Schmitt has been its twentieth-​century embodiment, in particular in his 1932
text on ‘The Concept of the Political’. In this milestone of particularism, Schmitt
introduces numerous innovations; in particular, he stylizes it and brings it into an
era where interdependence becomes a major topic. Schmitt makes the core points
of particularism with supreme vigor. In particular, he posits the readiness to sustain
a war with another state as the vanishing point for its conceptual construction.23
This concept is highly consequential insofar as it requests all law to be framed and
practiced in this light, be it international law, or, and that is the focus of ‘The
Concept of the Political’, domestic public law.
The development of his concept starts with the famous very first sentence of the
book: the concept of the state presupposes the concept of the political. The text
presents the state as an institution that only frames political relationships, rather
than enabling them, as would a state-​centred, conventional understanding. The
political relationship is distinguished from other types of relationship in a modal
way: it is defined as the most intensive of all modes of human relationship. It is the
relationship in which the other is either friend or enemy in a confrontation which
includes his or her legal and legitimate annihilation.
It is crucial to Schmitt’s train of thought that the state is but one form of relation-
ship, because this allows to depict it as a huge civilizing achievement. The state is
the institution that overcomes deadly conflict on the inside and civilizes it on the
outside. Inside, it succeeds in overcoming a possibly deadly conflict by creating
political unity, i.e. strong leadership over a homogeneous people. The true politi-
cal, i.e. possibly deadly conflict, is confined to the relationship with other states.
Nevertheless, even on the outside, the institutional form of the state is grand, not
because it overcomes conflict, but because it channels and civilizes it. The state pro-
vides the most civilized form of inevitable, and even desirable violence.
Probably the most important supportive argument is epistemological. Schmitt
claims in ‘The Concept of the Political’, as in many other writings,24 that true
insight requires thinking from the exception. As he sets out, deadly struggle is not
occurring all the time. However, it is a possibility from which, because of its serious-
ness, everything needs to be conceived. Under these premises, the political relation-
ship, or deep enmity, is the default condition of human relations. As in Hobbes,
it is ever present as long as there is no common legal order backed up by strong
common institutions. True order is by necessity concrete order in this sense, a kiss
of death to international law.25 In this brute world, order is predicated on another

23  For a step by step analysis of the core passages see the contributions in Reinhard Mehring (ed.),
Carl Schmitt: Der Begriff des Politischen. Ein kooperativer Kommentar (2003).
24  The core text is Carl Schmitt, Politische Theologie: Vier Kapitel zur Lehre von der Souveränität
(1922), p. 13.
25  For a recent application, showing its potential, Nehal Bhuta, ‘The Frontiers of Extraterritoriality:
Human Rights as Global Law’, in Nehal Bhuta (ed.), The Frontiers of Human Rights (2016), pp. 1–20.
492

492 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

truth proclaimed as self-​evident: the protector, and only the protector, is obeyed.

This gives a key to purport international law’s insurmountable weakness.
Schmitt’s concept of the state presupposes a plurality of states. This presupposi-
tion is assumed as a fact, but Schmitt adds grounds which strongly militate against
any attempt for overcoming such conflictual plurality. The very possibility of a state
is predicated on the conflictual relationship with another state. According to the
logic of protection and obedience, order would vanish if protection became super-
fluous. The plurality provides for social integration because of the external threat,
and hence the viability of states.
The plurality of states has normative value also because it allows for different
forms of concrete life. This is another kernel of particularistic thought. Indeed,
Schmitt gives only one rational argument for why to fight: ‘Each participant is in
a position to judge whether the adversary intends to negate his opponent’s way of
life and therefore must be repulsed or fought in order to preserve one’s own form
of existence’.26 The background for this is Schmitt’s concept of the people, which
surfaces rarely in ‘The Concept of the Political’, but underlies his approach. Schmitt
provides a bellicose take on otherness.
Conceiving the state through the international is highly consequential for domes-
tic as well as for international law. Schmitt radicalizes and stylizes a conventional
holding of foreign policy hawks, namely of the primacy of foreign policy. This
primacy of the international is highly consequential for the way a state should be
set-​up internally, contrasting liberal ideas of parliamentary democracy.27 Schmitt
also advocates a strictly anti-​individualistic construction of the law. Fundamental
or human rights should not stand at the core of public law. Rather, the very point of
political community and public law is the power to order an individual into mortal
combat.28
Schmitt challenges today’s mainstream understanding of international law in
almost all respects. It lays the ground for different doctrinal constructions, different
evaluations, a different historical reconstruction, and, indeed, for a different disci-
pline. The very concept of international law is questioned, and thereby the identity
of the discipline as such.
Firstly, for Schmitt international law is a misleading terminology as international
suggests some independence from states. Such authority is impossible: accordingly
organizations such as the League of Nations are rather instruments of the foreign
policy of some states, not truly international organizations. What the conventional
understanding depicts as international law appears in ‘The Concept of the Political’
as external relations law.
Secondly, the conventional international law focus is too narrow to understand
order between states. The distinction between Landesrecht and Völkerrecht, domes-
tic law and international law is, for Schmitt, a mere façade. He defines the field as

26  Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political (1995), p. 27.

27  On the debates of his time see the contributions in Christoph Gusy (ed.), Demokratisches Denken
in der Weimarer Republik (2000).
28 Schmitt, Concept of the Political (n. 26), p. 46.
 493

Universalism and Particularism 493

jus gentium, later he speaks of jus publicum europaeum. This field embraces not
only international law, but also common constitutional standards and a common
regime of property protection, i.e. transnational economic law. Schmitt’s jus pub-
licum europaeum gives much attention to such common European constitutional
standards as well as to a common economic constitution before the First World
War.29 Accordingly, the narrow field of international law simply misses the core
point for understanding order between states. This point resonates strongly with a
current attempt to reconsider the very cut of a history of international law.30
Schmitt challenges furthermore the conventional narrative of progress in inter-
national law, in particular with respect to innovations introduced after the two
world wars as progress. Schmitt presents the jus gentium in 1914 as the peak of
civilization and the greatest human achievement because it civilizes war. This civi-
lizatory achievement got lost after World War I. Schmitt militates against much
what contemporary international law hails as epochal progress. The jus ad bellum
stands at the core of international law. Overcoming that doctrine constituted no
less than the demise of classical international law.31 Along these lines, accepting the
authority of an institution such as the UN-​Security Council threatens statehood,32
a provision such as Article 2 No 4 CUN is fanciful with respect to true states, while
weak states have no right to exist.
This bears important implications on how to think the international order today.
Much of its core terminology comes out to be confusing, if not misleading or out-
right ideological. This is not limited to the very concept ‘international’, but also
applies to many other core concepts such as ‘humanity’, ‘universalism’, ‘progress’.
Schmitt reads much of it as a façade for US hegemony, and posits ‘demasking’ as a
central task of legal thought.
Schmitt remains in this book short on the topic of how to establish order. Schmitt’s
most famous proposal of how to respond to the challenge was to devise large-​range
order, modelled on what he understood as the US hegemony in the Americas. He
envisaged a large-​scale order for Europe under German rule.33 He came up with
this original brand of imperialism in the early 1940s, i.e. after having penned ‘The
Concept of the Political’, ‘Raum und Großraum im Völkerrecht’ (1940),34 and
‘Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung’ (1941).35 The hegemons should guarantee
the order within their respective spheres of influence, which would be in the hand

29  Carl Schmitt, Der Nomos der Erde im Völkerrecht des Jus Publicum Europaeum (1997), p. 182.
30  Martti Koskenniemi, ‘What Should International Legal History Become?’, in this volume.
31  Carl Schmitt, Ex Captivitate Salus: Erfahrungen der Zeit 1945/​47 (1950), p. 71; Der Nomos der
Erde im Völkerrecht des Jus Publicum Europaeum (n. 29).
32 Schmitt, Concept of the Political (n. 26), p. 49.
33  Proposing political institutions for broader spaces is not original to Schmitt, see Andreas Osiander,
‘Missionare oder Analytiker? Versuch einer Neubewertung der “idealistischen” Schule in der Lehre von
den internationalen Beziehungen’, in Jens Steffek and Leonie Holthaus (n. 3), p. 25. Schmitt gives the
proposal, however, the usual Schmittian spill, alongside the logic of his concept of the political.
34  In Carl Schmitt, Staat, Großraum, Nomos (1995), pp. 234ff.
35  Carl Schmitt, Völkerrechtliche Großraumordnung mit Interventionsverbot für raumfremde Mächte
(1941), reprinted in Carl Schmitt, Staat, Großraum, Nomos (n. 34), pp. 269ff.
49

494 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

of an ethnically and ideologically homogeneous group organized within a nation

state as the heart of the Großraum. Between the spheres of influence the principle of
non-​intervention should rule, and international law between these powers should
maintain its ‘classical’ form. In Schmitt’s conception, the community based on pre-​
reflexive homogeneity assumes continental proportions due to a more comprehen-
sive definition of the possible reasons for cohesion.
Carl Schmitt’s contribution may be unique in the history of contemporary political
thought, in particular because of his uncompromising radicalism. He was, however, by
no means isolated in some of his most decisive assumptions, so that we can conclude
that particularism—​far from being an idea of the past—​is still present and influen-
tial. Four distinctive characteristics of particularism have been resumed—​generally,
with great success—​in the recent debate: a) the centrality of sovereignty; b) the cul-
tural embeddedness of political identity; c) the search for selfish outcomes as the only
rational behavior; d) the exclusion of the ‘other’ as the condition for the survival of
one’s own community.
a) From sovereignty as a core tenet of particularism, two assertions are derived: first,
that the unity of the law is intrinsically related to a sovereign public power;36 and,
second, that public law has to maintain an incontestable primacy over all other
legal domains in order to guarantee the hierarchical coherence of the whole legal
system. According to Martin Loughlin as one of the most prominent advocates of
particularistic sovereignty within the contemporary legal theory, sovereign public
power—​and, therefore, public law as well − express the political will of an autono-
mous entity that constitutes itself precisely through this act.37 In other words, the
public sphere—​organized by the system of norms of public law—​has its origin in
the apodictic assertion of will made by a sovereign social actor, firmly rooted in the
factual terrain of power.38 No precondition such as the cultural or ethnic identity
of the nation is here required to the political act of will; the only indispensable req-
uisite is that the act of will has to be free, i.e. independent from any other source of
power.39
b) The second tenet of particularism, which influences today’s theories, is the
national rootedness of political identity. According to this element, developed
among others by German constitutionalists like Josef Isensee, Paul Kirchhof,
and Dieter Grimm, only the unity of the legal system, grounded on the primacy
of the national constitution, can guarantee the rule of law and a high standard
of legitimacy, both of which would be lost in the context of a cosmopolitan
turn of constitutionalism.40 More concretely, the unity of the law41 is based
on the unity of public power42—​and this, for its part, can only be the result of

36  Martin Loughlin, Foundations of Public Law (2010), p. 50.

37  Ibid., pp. 208, 221, 228, and 231. 38  Ibid., p. 216. 39  Ibid., p. 209.
40  Dieter Grimm, The Constitution in the Process of Denationalization, Constellations 12 (2005), 447.
41  Josef Isensee, ‘Staat und Verfassung’, in Josef Isensee and Paul Kirchhof (eds.), Handbuch des
Staatsrechts der Bundesrepublik Deutschland. Band I: Grundlagen von Staat und Verfassung (1987), pp.
591, 619.
42 Ibid., 620.
 495

Universalism and Particularism 495

the national unity of the people (Volk).43 The search for a fundament for the
unity of the Volk introduces, then, a distinction between two variants of this
strand. On the one hand, some authors identify this fundament—​according
to Isensee’s words—​with ‘geographic and geopolitical situation, historic origin
and experience, cultural specificity, economic necessities of the people, natural
and political conditions.’44 All these elements are expressions of a pre-​political
state of facts, of a quasi-​natural condition of the Volk, on which political and
legal institutions are built. They constitute the Volk, thus, as a ‘community of
destiny’,45 before and beyond any individual decision or preference.46 On the
other hand, a second variant—​represented, in particular, by Dieter Grimm—​
locates the basis for the unique character of a Volk and its law rather in the
common language spoken by all members of the people.47 Only the existence of
a shared language—according to Grimm—​enables the members of the politi-
cal community to legitimate the institutions of public power as well as their
decisions.48
c) Another feature of particularistic thinking relies on an understanding of
rational choice according to which only egoistic behaviour, insofar as it aims at
maximizing individual payoffs, can be regarded as rational. Slightly more than a
decade ago, Jack L. Goldsmith and Eric A. Posner have applied this rather short-​
term-​oriented conception of rational choice to legal theory in order to assert the
normative limits of international law.49 According to their interpretation, since
we cannot know precisely what are the preferences of other polities or what their
next actions are going to be, individuals will act rationally—​i.e. will enhance
their selfish outcomes—​only if the polity does not bind itself to strict supra-​state
rules, or if it does so just in the case that these rules are evidently at the service of
its immediate interests. Neither customary international law nor treaty law would
build a reliable normative framework of shared and effective rules. As a result,
states should comply with international law only insofar as this compliance coin-
cides with their immediate and egoistic interests, so that the legal framework
of relations among political communities is left with a very modest normative
consistency.
d) The fourth—​ and last—​ main characteristic of particularism refers to
the definition of the identity of one’s own political community as strictly
related to the contraposition to some kind of ‘otherness’. Samuel P. Huntington
develops this foundational tenet of particularism in his analysis of the
political state of mind of the US society at the dawn of the twenty-​first
century. Given the premise that the individual political community, in
order to maintain its strength and vitality, must build on its cultural and

43 Ibid., 634. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid.

46  Paul Kirchhof, ‘Der deutsche Staat im Prozess der europäischen Integration’, in Isensee and
Kirchhof (eds.), Handbuch des Staatsrechts der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (n. 42), p. 869.
47  Dieter Grimm, ‘Braucht Europa eine Verfasssung?’, JuristenZeitung 50 (1995), p. 581.
48  Ibid., p. 588.
49  Jack L. Goldsmith and Eric A. Posner, The Limits of International Law (2005).
496

496 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

religious heritage,50 he claims that the definition of the essential principles of the
social and political life of the community are largely depending on the identifi-
cation of a counterpart,51 or even of an enemy.52 As a consequence, America—​
but the same claim could be made for every other polity—​has to assert itself in
the international arena as the expression of specific values, which are the result of
long-​term historical processes.53 Furthermore, as far as the internal dimension is
involved, no allegedly self-​reliant ‘otherness’ should be accepted as a component
of the domestic society. Insofar as immigration is allowed and even welcomed,
the new fellow citizens have to take on the basic elements of the leading culture
of the country, namely the language, the work ethic, the individualism and the
respect for the rule of law which are assumed to be typical for the traditional
Anglo-​Protestant majority.54

2. Radicalizing and concretizing universalism: Kelsen and

the constitutionalization of international law
If Carl Schmitt is the most visible example of particularism among legal schol-
ars in the last century, this same role, but on the universalistic side, is taken
by Hans Kelsen. Kelsen’s plea for universalism is built on his analysis of the
contraposition between dualism and monism.55 His starting point is what he
maintains to be a paradox: paradoxical indeed is the claim put forward by the
supporters of nationalism, according to which a nation state pretends to be
sovereign though acknowledging the validity of international law. In fact—​
Kelsen argues—​the condition of sovereignty is realized when no power needs
to be recognized, factually and normatively, as situated above oneself, so that
the own capability of acting is not limited.56 Yet, international law—​if taken
seriously—​imposes precisely such a limitation.57 For that reason, either the
nation state is not sovereign, or international law has little, if any, normative
quality.
Kelsen presents three possible ways for resolving the paradox—​the first one bas-
ing on a dualistic interpretation of the legal system, the second and third ones on a
monistic view. The dualistic solution assumes that two different legal systems—​the
national and the international—​coexist, the first one providing rules for the domes-
tic realm, the second for the relations between states. According to this perspec-
tive, each system has its own basis of legitimacy and is unchallenged in its area of

50  Samuel P. Huntington, Who Are We? The Challenges to America’s National Identity (2004), pp.
19ff., 337ff.
51  Ibid., pp. 24ff. 52  Ibid., pp. 258ff., 357ff.
53  Ibid., pp. 362ff. 54  Ibid., pp. 131ff., 178ff.
55 Hans Kelsen, Reine Rechtslehre. Einleitung in die rechtswissenschaftliche Problematik (1934),
p. 140.
56  Hans Kelsen, Das Problem der Souveränität und die Theorie des Völkerrechts (1920, reprint 1981),
p. 12.
57 Ibid., p. 40.
 497

Universalism and Particularism 497

competence.58 The problem, in Kelsen’s view, is that in this case we would possibly
have two diverging norms, derived from two different legal systems, both effective
and legitimate, which simultaneously apply to the same matter. Kelsen refuses this
possibility and points out that the simultaneous validity of two diverging norms
leads to a contradiction which would jeopardize the normative quality of the entire
legal system.59 Therefore, in his approach, the existence of a plurality of norms—​
that means: the presence of more than one rule applicable at the same time to the
same legal field—​is completely inacceptable: a pathology of disorder that should be
avoided, or, if already present, healed as soon as possible.
The second and the third solution are both grounded on a monistic conception
of the legal system, i.e. on the assumption that domestic and international law
have one and the same foundation for validity and legitimacy. The difference is
that in the first case domestic public law prevails over international law, whilst in
the second international law is placed at the top of the pyramid of legal norms. In
accordance with the first definition of monism, international law is conceived of as
a part of domestic public law, or, as it has been described, as ‘external state law’.60
Therefore, it is among the competences of the sovereign individual state to specify
the scope of international legal norms. The curious—​and, according to Kelsen,
even quite absurd—​consequence of this modus operandi is that, given the fact
that we have a large number of individual states, if international law is depending
for the specification of its normative range on sovereign decisions taken by each
of those single states, we will also have as many different international law orders
as we have sovereign states; that means, lastly, that no binding international law
would exist. A further circumstance would be no less absurd: since international
law norms provide for the mutual recognition of states as equal actors in the inter-
national arena, exactly this mutual acknowledgment, which is fundamental for the
very functioning of the international order, should rely upon the free and arbitrary
will of each individual states. The result would be that the recognition of every state
as equal actor of international law would lie in the hands of every other single state,
as well as that each individual state would decide on the international recognition
of all other states—​a confusing condition, which is illogical and would destabilize
international relations.61
The only solution of the problem would thus consist, if we follow Kelsen and
accept his conceptual presuppositions, in the preference for the monistic structure of
the entire legal order, but turned upside down as against the former option, i.e. with
international law at the apex of the pyramid and domestic public law as the execu-
tor of the fundamental principles and norms of international law within a limited
territory, towards a specific group of individuals—​the citizens of the state—​and
within the range of competences attributed to the state by international norms.62

58  Ibid., p. 102.

59  Hans Kelsen, General Theory of Law and State (1945, reprint 1949), p. 363.
60 Kelsen, Reine Rechtslehre (n. 55), p. 140. 61  Ibid., p. 142.
62  Ibid., p. 149; Hans Kelsen, Peace through Law (1944), p. 35.
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498 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

Kelsen admits explicitly that such a construction of the legal system would mark the
end of any serious pretension of sovereignty by the single states.63
Few doubts, if any, can be raised on the cosmopolitan scope of Kelsen's idea of
international order. Rather, his position marks a twofold radicalization of previous
understandings of universalism. Kelsen’s first step on the way to a quite uncom-
promising version of the civitas maxima is related to the limitation of the role of
individual states to mere executors of what is allowed by international law—​a
restriction which is not only radical but downright unprecedented in the history
of political thought at least since Machiavelli. In fact, the formal legitimacy of the
single states as recognized and empowered agents within the international legal
arena is exclusively derived from the Grundnorm of international law, which is at
the same time the hierarchically highest legal source, and the epistemologically
most essential foundation of the global legal order. As a result, also the scope of
the legitimate action of the individual states turns out to be significantly curbed.
The second step of Kelsen’s radicalization of universalism consists in his exclusively
legal conception of cosmopolitan order. The conviction that world order—​if it has
ever to be concretized—​will be essentially a legal one had been already expressed
by Kant.64 Nonetheless, Kant maintained that, if this legal order should be estab-
lished, important political problems concerning primarily the transfer of sover-
eignty by individual states have to be settled.65 Thus, given that the order is to be
based on a legal framework, the cosmopolitan legal system needs—​according to
Kant—​a strong and steady political support. The political dimension, by contrast,
is largely ignored by Kelsen. This is true, first, for the domestic dimension, since the
state, in Kelsen’s understanding, is nothing more than the system of public law.66
And, insofar as an order beyond the borders of the state is feasible, this cannot but
be a legal order as well.67
Kelsen’s intellectual courage and originality are unquestionable. Nevertheless,
his radicalization of universalism—​in particular, his marginalization of the role
of nation states—​did not find many supporters. Rather, most of the authors who
resumed universalism after Kelsen were concerned with the attempt to reconcile
the idea of cosmopolitan order with a more realistic view of what individual states
can actually do as well as with the legitimacy basis of their actions. A most sig-
nificant contribution to a further development of a well-​balanced universalism has
been delivered by the theory of the constitutionalization of international law.68
States are still regarded, here, as the most important actors of international law,

63 Kelsen, Reine Rechtslehre (n. 55), pp. 142 and 153.

64  Immanuel Kant, ‘Über den Gemeinspruch: Das mag in der Theorie richtig sein, taugt aber nicht
für die Praxis’ (1793), in Kant, Werkausgabe, Bd. XI (n. 22), pp. 125, 169ff.
65 Kant, Zum ewigen Frieden (n. 22), p. 212; Immanuel Kant, Die Metaphysik der Sitten (1797), in
Kant, Werkausgabe, Bd. VIII (‘Rechtslehre’) (n. 22), § 61, 474.
66 Kelsen, Reine Rechtslehre (n. 55), pp. 116ff.
67 Kelsen, Peace through Law (n. 62).
68  Stefan Kadelbach and Thomas Kleinlein, Überstaatliches Verfassungsrecht, Archiv des Völkerrechts
44(3) (2006), 235; Jan Klabbers, Anne Peters, and Geir Ulfstein (eds.), The Constitutionalization of
International Law (2009); Thomas Kleinlein, Konstitutionalisierung im Völkerrecht (2012).
 49

Universalism and Particularism 499

although—​contrary to what the pre-​Kelsenian tradition of international law schol-
arship claimed—​further subjects have also to be recognized as autonomous agents,
such as supra-​state institutions, international organizations, courts, and, last but
not least, individuals and NGOs. The consequent limitation of state sovereignty
confirms the commitment of the theory of the constitutionalization of interna-
tional law to the most essential tenet of universalism, namely the priority of inter-
national law over the self-​reliant interests of the nation states. Yet, while Kelsen’s
idea of a worldwide order is based on a strictly monistic legal framework, global
constitutionalists rather presuppose that an essentially multifaceted international
legal community frames and directs political power in the light of common values
and a common good.

IV.  Beyond the Dichotomy

The dichotomy of particularism and universalism allows to map the landscape of

the theories of international order by distinguishing between those theories which
back the perspective of a somehow institutionalized cosmopolitan legal commu-
nity, and those which deny such possibility. Some approaches are radical enough to
fit easily into the dichotomy; some other are more at the edge of the field. But most
of them—​with only few exceptions, Hegel for instance—​can be described within
the horizon of the dichotomous perspective. Yet, both particularism and univer-
salism—​if understood as a dichotomy—​show a mirror-​inverted deficit. In fact,
universalistic theories shape the framework for the creation of a legal and political
order that include the whole humankind, but at the cost of a certain indifference
towards the precious identities of the individual communities; and, vice versa, par-
ticularistic authors made a strong case for singular identities, but often forgot that
these can thrive only within a broader context of peaceful interaction and inclusion.
Therefore, we can conclude that the overcoming of the one-​sidedness of the
approaches can be reasonably seen as a desirable intellectual task. Nevertheless,
no significant author of the founding era of international law made it to his main
proposal—​even not Hegel, who only introduced some clues, albeit highly inter-
esting, of a post-​dichotomous order. The reason is that, in order to conceive of an
alternative in which the advantages of both the universalistic and the particularis-
tic position could be adequately integrated, a deep-​going paradigmatic revolution
was needed. This is a quite recent and still ongoing phenomenon, which involves
what we have described as the third element of a paradigm of order—​along with
the claims concerning the extension of order and its ontological basis—​namely
the assertion about the unitary or non-​unitary character of a well-​ordered society.
Regardless of whether they were particularistic or universalistic, social, political,
and legal theories were characterized, until just a few decades ago, by a unitary
idea of order. This means that the institutional structure and a body of norms was
considered ‘well-​ordered’ only if organized as a coherent and hierarchical unity,
as a pyramid in which conflicts between different institutions and norms had to
be resolved by defining which institution or norm, respectively, has priority over
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500 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

the conflicting one. According to the traditional conception, ​both the particu-
laristic individual community and the cosmopolitan civitas maxima were, thus,
unitary and hierarchical. Instead, the paradigmatic revolution from a unitary to
a post-​unitary idea of order has paved the way for an understanding in which
a well-​ordered society can also be conceived of as a polyarchic and horizontally
interconnected structure that reminds more of a network than of a pyramid. In
this social, political and legal configuration of interrelated decision-​makers, con-
flicts of institutions and norms are not a dangerous threat to order; rather, they
can be operationalized in discursive procedures aiming at reaching a shared objec-
tive and not at establishing—​or re-​establishing—​hierarchy. As a result, order can
be universal and particular at the same time, insofar as it extends far beyond the
borders of the single community, but recognizes the inescapability and value of the
sub-​universal institutionalizations of order. Three approaches can be singled out in
this still unfolding process.

1. Systems  theory
Systems theory eschews any reference to an overarching rationality that, starting
from the transcendental capacities of the individuals, would encompass all forms
of social interaction. Contrary to any form of traditional universalism, no universal
reason—​subjective or intersubjective—​is here envisaged, either at the descriptive
or at the prescriptive level.69 To the contrary, system theory maintains that many
rationalities can be observed by the social scientist, each of them characterizing the
specific way of functioning of one social subsystem. According to systems theory,
there are no extra-​systemic rational processes. However, different rational processes
within the manifold functional subsystems of society guarantee that these subsys-
tems deliver the performances for which they have developed and that are nec-
essary for the continuity and the further improvement—​in the sense of higher
efficiency—​of the whole society.
Under these premises, also the legal system—​as a social subsystem itself—​
is characterized by its specific rationality. Moreover, because the function of
the law consists in stabilizing the normative expectations of the actors of social
interactions,70 and since these social expectations derive from a large number
of social subsystems in which functionally specified social interactions occur,
the existence of a plurality of social subsystems corresponds to a fragmenta-
tion of the legal system.71 Put differently, insofar as the law has the function to
guarantee the internal order of different social subsystems, the law itself loses its
unity and develops distinct legal subsystems, each of them characterized by the

69  Niklas Luhmann, Soziale Systeme. Grundriß einer allgemeinen Theorie (1984); Niklas Luhmann,
Das Recht der Gesellschaft (1993); Niklas Luhmann, Die Gesellschaft der Gesellschaft (1997).
70 Luhmann, Das Recht der Gesellschaft, p. 131.
71  Gunther Teubner, ‘Global Bukowina’: Legal Pluralism in the World Society’, in G. Teubner (ed.),
Global Law Without a State (1997), p. 3.
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Universalism and Particularism 501

rationality, expressed in legal terms, that underlies the implementation of the
subsystemic functions.72
Systems theory can be read as considering the fragmentation of society into sub-
systems and the fragmentation of the law into legal regimes not only as facts but also
as developments to be welcomed insofar as they enhance the functional efficiency of
social performances. In doing so, it recognizes the importance of the particularistic
dimension of social interaction. Nonetheless, the particularistic subsystems do not
reply national borders; to the contrary, they tend to unfold at a global scale. Social
subsystems, thus, also overcome traditional parochialism in a way that incorpo-
rates, though in a quite peculiar form, some traditional elements of universalism.

2. Postmodernism
Relying on the de-​construction of the modern idea of unity as the best realization of
a rational order, postmodernism has pointed out too, in an even more uncompromis-
ing fashion, the inherent pluralism of contemporary society and of its legal order.73
From the postmodern perspective, no social structure or legal regime can claim to
embody the principles of a superior rationality. Rather, every form of social interac-
tion and every legal order, and system, are products of narrations that have their rai-
son d’être—​not less than any other narration—​in the historical conditions in which
they happen to occur. As a result, diversity itself is a value, with the consequence
that any attempt by supra-​ordered norms to force hierarchy on the manifold plu-
rality of social interactions is condemned as a suffocation of what is a normatively
desirable opportunity to unfold the freedom of individuals and social groups.
The theory of social and legal pluralism differs clearly from the unitary concep-
tions of order, be they universalistic or particularistic. In fact, it acknowledges the
multifaceted dimension of the social and legal phenomenon as it has developed
in the contemporary world, without trying to impose on it an overarching system
of rules either at the national or at the international level. The favourable assess-
ment of the multifaceted unfolding of social and legal orders takes the relevance
of specific—​and, thus, particularistic—​issues adequately into account. Since from
the point of view of postmodern social and legal pluralism no universal stand-
ard of rationality can be convincingly established, every social narration has to be
considered as rational as any other, and the social and legal rules that give predict-
ability to the interactions that unfold within the societal context of a narration
should be recognized as being on an equal footing as any other system of rules. On
the other hand, the characterizing features of a specific system of rules are never

72  Andreas Fischer-​Lescano and Gunther Teubner, ‘Fragmentierung des Weltrechts:  Vernetzung
globaler Regimes statt etatistischer Rechtseinheit’, in Mathias Albert and Rudolf Stichweh (eds.),
Weltstaat und Weltstaatlichkeit. Beobachtungen globaler politischer Strukturbildung (2007), p. 37.
73  Paul Schiff Berman, Global Legal Pluralism (2012); Miguel Poiares Maduro, Three Claims of
Constitutional Pluralism, accessed 1 September 2016, available at <https://​cosmopolis.wzb.eu/​content/​
programs/​conkey_​Maduro_​Three-​Claims-​of-​Pluralism.pdf;>; Nico Krisch, Beyond Constitutionalism
(2010).
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502 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

necessarily related with a territory or a population, so that social and legal orders
can expand transnationally, with the result of involving different territories and
populations. As in systems theory, hence, the acknowledgement of a certain form of
particularism goes along with an undeniable post-​parochial understanding of order.
However, the postmodern approach to a post-​unitary conception of order is also
distinguished from systems theory insofar as it eschews to endorse the idea of a pre-
cisely determined criterion for the distinction between rational and non-​rational.
Concretely—​and in contrast to systems theory—​social and legal pluralism gives up
the strictly binary code in interpreting legal communication, in favour of a more
nuanced attention to ‘graduation’.74

3. Discourse  theory
According to the fundamental assumption of the communicative paradigm,75 soci-
ety is made of a plurality of interactions, each of them characterized by a specific
aim that influences decisively the discursive contents of the interaction. Although
manifold in its essence, social communication—​and the rationality that is embed-
ded in it—​are neither exclusively functional, as in systems theory, nor are they
spelled out in a plurality of incommensurable forms as in postmodern thinking.
Rather, the communicative rationality—​right from the understanding of commu-
nication here presupposed—​has always a normative core. The normative core of
communicative rationality consists in the assumption that discursive communica-
tion can achieve its goal only if all those involved mutually presuppose that: a) from
an objective perspective, the assertions are true (in the sense that the propositions
are referred to real situations or facts); b) from a subjective perspective, the speakers
act truthfully (in the sense that they are committed to fair-​minded purposes and are
sincerely persuaded that their assertions meet the conditions for truth); and c) from
an intersubjective perspective, the speakers interact according to the principles of
rightness (in the sense that they accept that their assertions have to meet the criteria
for a general and mutual acknowledgement by all participants in the communica-
tion).76 Precisely this normative essence, based on the general principle of mutual
recognition, is what makes communicative rationality universal and justifies the
claim that the communicative paradigm represents a sort of renewal of universal-
ism, now fully aware of the undeniable value of the sub-​universal orders as well as
of their autonomous and irreducible legitimacy.
As regards the legal order, communicative rationality paves the way to a concep-
tion in which the particular articulation of legal order is recognized, but in a quite

74 Krisch, Beyond Constitutionalism, p. 305.

75  Karl-​Otto Apel, Transformation der Philosophie (1973); Karl-​Otto Apel, Diskurs und
Verantwortung (1990); Jürgen Habermas, Theorie des kommunikativen Handelns (1981); Jürgen
Habermas, Moralbewußtsein und kommunikatives Handeln (1983).
76  See Habermas, Vorstudien und Ergänzungen zur Theorie des kommunikativen Handelns (1984),
p. 598; Jürgen Habermas, Nachmetaphysisches Denken (1988), pp. 73, 105, 123; Jürgen Habermas,
Wahrheit und Rechtfertigung (2004), p. 110.
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Universalism and Particularism 503

different way than in the approaches described before. Plurality is here embed-
ded into an overarching structure, held together by the display of communicative
reason as a counterpart of systemic rationality—​a counterpart that is operating
not only from outside the social subsystems but also inside each of them.77 Two
characteristics stick out. Firstly, the communicative understanding of legal order
overcomes the hierarchical notion of the legal order which was typical for the tradi-
tional conception, but maintains a normative ranking between the different levels.
The normative quality of the norm, however, is not justified here by the level of
‘hard power’ of which the authority vested with the task to impose this norm over
other rules can dispose, but rather by the more or less high inclusivity of the range
of validity of the norm. In this sense, international law has the highest norma-
tive quality, albeit endowed with relatively little authoritative and compelling ‘hard
power’. Secondly, the recognition of legal differentiation and diversity as a matter
of fact and as a desirable outlook does not correspond, from the standpoint of the
communicative paradigm, to a value-​free, horizontal pluralism like in the perspec-
tive of postmodern criticism. Instead, the fundamental values—​conveyed through
the communicative reason—​pervade all subsystems and all levels of the legal sys-
tem. As a result, the normative centre of the legal order is held by the principle of
democratic legitimation and definition of common interests and values, whereby
the democratically legitimated public order maintains a normative superiority over
private law subsystems.
As a post-​unitary, non-​hierarchical and non-​pyramidal whole, the communica-
tive paradigm supports constitutionalism beyond the borders of the nation state,78
the cosmopolitan dimension of which, due to its acknowledgment of diversity,
is quite different from the old ideas of the ‘world state’ or of the civitas maxima.
Indeed, the political interactions within the single polity, the inter-​state relations,
and the supra-​state norms and institutions are interpreted as distinct kinds of inter-
action which must be acknowledged in their mutual inter-​dependence, but also in
their autonomy.79 This way, the communicative paradigm supports a robust episte-
mological foundation of a multilevel understanding of public law.
At the domestic level, state public law regulates the interactions between citi-
zens of each single political community as well as between these citizens and the
domestic institutions. The theory of communicative reason demands that decisions
are taken through deliberative processes based on the reflexive involvement of the
citizens. At the international level, public international law addresses the relations

77 Jürgen Habermas, Faktizität und Geltung (1992); Jürgen Habermas, Der gespaltene Westen
(2004); Jürgen Habermas, ‘Eine politische Verfassung für die pluralistische Weltgesellschaft?’, Kritische
Justiz 38 (2005), 222.
78  Mattias Kumm, ‘On the Cosmopolitan Turn in Constitutionalism: On the Relationship between
Constitutionalism in and beyond the State’, in Jeffrey L. Dunoff and Joel P. Trachtman (eds.), Ruling
the World? (2009), pp. 258, 265.
79  Jürgen Habermas, Der gespaltene Westen (2004); Habermas, Eine politische Verfassung für eine
pluralistische Weltgesellschaft (n. 78); Jürgen Habermas, Zur Verfassung Europas (2011), pp. 43ff.; Jürgen
Habermas, ‘Democracy in Europe: Why the Development of the EU into a Transnational Democracy
Is Necessary and How It Is Possible’, European Law Journal 21(4) (2015), 546.
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504 Armin von Bogdandy and Sergio Dellavalle

between citizens of different states mediated through their states; therefore, the
focus is on relations between states. Lastly, the third level of public law is made by
the cosmopolitan law as the public law that shapes direct interactions between indi-
viduals from different states as well as between individuals and the states of which
they are not citizens.

4. And  yet
On the basis of this short overview, one can conclude that current strands of the
theories on international, supranational and transnational law are on the road to
leaving the dichotomy of universalism and particularism. Should one derive from
this state of facts that universalism and particularism are obsolete categories? Have
they lost definitively their epistemological and heuristic value? We claim that such
conclusion cannot convince for at least three main reasons. Firstly, while some inno-
vative conceptions look forwards to post-​dichotomous rearrangements of domestic
and international order, many other authors are still to be located within the tradi-
tional categories. Secondly, even if the theories presented in this section overcome
the dichotomy of universalism and particularism, this does not imply that these
categories fully belong to the past. To the contrary, they are still instruments for
the understanding of the contrasting interpretations of domestic and international
order. System theory, postmodern pluralism, and communicative paradigm may be
located beyond the dichotomy, but they propose different mixtures of the inherent
value of some parochial tenets and the impetus towards a global well-​ordered soci-
ety. As a result, they maintain in their conceptual constructs implicit and often even
explicit references to both particularism and universalism. Thirdly, the categories of
universalism and particularism are not only descriptive, but also normative. They
help to shape preferences as regards the extension of order and the sources of its
legitimacy, enabling to substantiate options by a well-​founded interpretation of the
old and new scholarship. Even if some strands of contemporary universalism do not
deny the reasonableness of at least some tenets of particularism any longer, seeking
a more balanced approach than in the older theories, they maintain nevertheless
the conviction—​a genuinely normative conviction, indeed—​that the well-​ordered
society can expand to include in principle the whole humankind. And everyone
who shares this conviction will further read these theoretical proposals as the con-
tinuation of the old idea that striving for a world of peace and solidarity represents
not only a distant hope, but a moral obligation.
 50

Some Brief Conclusions

Pierre-​Marie Dupuy

The international legal system established in 1945 can be seen, in its very design, as
an incarnation of western rationalism. Like that rationalism, it implicitly embodies
a certain ideology of progress. In terms of its philosophical underpinnings, it would
seem to be heir to the philosophy of the Enlightenment and the Aufklärung despite
the fact that a number of its most influential advocates came from countries closer
to Anglo-​Saxon utilitarianism than to Kantian constitutionalism. This immediately
poses a question therefore: could this set of norms claim in the long term to be truly
universal in scope.

I.  Space and Time

Despite the ideological neutrality traditionally professed by the proponents of legal

positivism, contemporary international law is founded on a particular western tra-
dition. That tradition is itself based on the belief that subordinating the conduct
of states to communal laws, recognized by all as valid and legitimate, will progres-
sively bring about a gradual move away from if not ultimately a renunciation of
any recourse to force. Kant seems to be its most inspired prophet in that regard, in
particular in his essay Perpetual Peace which seeks precisely to lay the foundations of
a true legal cosmopolitanism, propounded in the name of all peoples. Kant remains
moreover one of the crucial inspirations behind a shift away from metaphysics, in
particular in terms of his philosophy of knowledge. Nevertheless, the project for
perpetual peace he inspires, itself has a messianic dimension. We will find it again
in the Charter of the United Nations: that instrument, proclaimed in the name
of ‘the peoples of the United Nations determined to save succeeding generations
from the scourge of war … and to reaffirm faith in fundamental human rights,
in the dignity and worth of the human person …,’ presents itself as a promise. It
is an ideal purpose assigned to the community of peoples, implicitly founded on
the sediments laid down in the collective conscience by a particular tradition, one
which is primarily Christian but also discernible in other monotheistic systems.
At the same time, the text adopted in San Francisco in 1945 took the risk of
claiming to be valid here and now, that is to say, from entry into force of the com-
munal law which the Charter of the United Nations represents, ideally affirmed as
a universal constitution in the Kantian sense updated in that regard by Habermas.

Some Brief Conclusions. Pierre-Marie Dupuy. © Pierre-Marie Dupuy, 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford
University Press.
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506 Pierre-Marie Dupuy

There is therefore in any event a tension and a temporal contradiction between the
law and the promise or, to put it another way, between the time needed to bring the
project to fruition and the immediacy it claims.
There is only one direction to be found in that timescale. Time’s arrow has only
one target, the progress of humanity. There is no going back, much less any eternal
recurrence. As in Hegel or Marx, who in certain regards follow on from Kant here,
in the Charter of the United Nations history has one sense, that is to say, both one
meaning and one direction. There may be times when it is stopped, different stages,
but no regression. This text proposed in 1945 to be adopted collectively by all states,
thus contains a particular philosophy of history which should be taken, if not to full
term, at least towards completion. The rationale behind this wish not to stop but to
stabilize history by subjecting it permanently to the reign of reason has much to do
with the horror, albeit in the beginning partly underestimated, of the Holocaust.
Never again. We cannot go backwards without the risk that the unthinkable which
nevertheless came true will happen again. This promise is therefore also founded
on a turning back, turning back barbarism, which the Second World War had just
shown could reach previously unparalleled dimensions, even in one of the countries
which had contributed most to western humanist philosophy.
Behind the dense rhetorical screen deployed in the Preamble to the UN Charter,
the ulterior motives were, of course, many and difficult to reconcile. Beyond appar-
ent agreement on the big principles, the communist world, too, was thinking of
progress, although progress through the dictatorship of the proletariat, itself a long
way from both liberal democracy and respect for the Rule of Law, identified in its
continental Europe version by the notion of the ‘Rechtsstaat’ or ‘Etat de droit’. Be
that as it may, the, communist, Soviet Union despite everything shared the same
world as the West in so far as it drew part of its ideology from Hegel via Marx. For
the Soviet Union, too, history was a series of successive phases aimed at improving
humanity’s lot. There was no fundamental rupture in that regard, then, between
East and West, both of which cherished the ideology of progress. The ‘Cold War’
would therefore be fought between two antagonistic notions of the routes leading
to the progress of humanity.
A ‘directional predication’, to borrow an expression from Alain Badiou, the UN
Charter not only announced a new era but affirmed a rupture, a new departure in
the history of peoples and their states at the same time as it enshrined a universal
dimension of the human person (prefiguring the emergence of humanity as a sub-
ject of international law, which appeared gradually from the 1970s). It is in that
aspect that we must look for its constitutive value which would lead Habermas to
conclude that it is constitutional, a term admissible only when used metaphorically.

II.  Questioning and Regression

There are many who from the outset have thought, as Jean-​Jacques Rousseau him-
self, who ultimately had little faith in human perfectibility, would no doubt have
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Some Brief Conclusions 507

done, that the project enshrined in the UN Charter was merely an unattainable
ideal. Nevertheless, in the first decades, the myth of progress applied to the law if
not always to international relations, could more or less give the impression that
it was working. Admittedly, the Cold War brought back tensions, but at the same
time it kept out of direct conflicts, at least among the permanent members of the
Security Council. The Security Council, it must be said, remained paralysed, but it
was in certain, especially normative, respects, beneficially replaced by the dramatic
rise of the General Assembly taken as a World Forum, at least until the mid-​1980s.
The ‘outlawry of war’ movement had crumbled, but official recognition by all par-
ties of the fundamental legitimacy of the principle of the renunciation of force in
international relations, enshrined in Article 2.4 of the UN Charter, nevertheless
remained in place. The right of the ‘international community as a whole’ took
over from claims for the ‘right to development’, the new incarnation of the right
of peoples. There was a growing impression, then, at least after the Cuban mis-
sile crisis (1963), that albeit not ruling out all danger of war, the UN Charter,
supplemented by the United Nations Declaration on Principles of International
Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperation among States (1970), gave
all parties a renewed basis for ‘peaceful coexistence’ and even more ‘cardinal’ and
‘intransgressible’ principles, as the International Court of Justice would call them
in 1986 and ten years later. This remains true even though some seem to be under
the illusion that this ‘community’, for all it is indeed a legal fiction, which functions
rather effectively but only in formally legal terms, has itself already become a long
standing political reality.

III.  Back to the Turning Back

The ideological inspiration behind contemporary international law from the time
of its founding text adopted in San Francisco in 1945 has been given its full force by
the fact that for a while now it has been perceived in all its fragility. With Daesh and
the other rehashings of radical Islam we are back in the age, which we believed had
been consigned to history, of militant obscurantism. Be off with you! Using theol-
ogy to signal both its anchorage in the past and its diminishing horizon, it resolutely
turns its back on the Enlightenment. It has brought back not only metaphysics but
theocracy and sets up the ‘Caliphate’ as its model with a cry of ‘long live Death’,
like the Francoist general Millan-​Astray back in the Spanish Civil War. Explicitly
set on repudiating any democratic ideal, radical Islamism systematically rejects any
reference to ‘human rights’, asserting in particular that women can legitimately be
reduced to a radically subordinate status. It resolutely destroys the vestiges of any
ancient civilizations liable to illustrate the heritage boasted of by ‘infidels’. Man
does not exist in his own right but only as a subject literally in submission to the
religion of a Book, itself seen in this context without any interpretive distance, the
Koran being written without the slightest ambiguity in the language of God and as
dictated by God.
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508 Pierre-Marie Dupuy

That is not the only instance of regression, however, and it would be very wrong
to believe that the attacks against the edifice of the UN Charter come only from a
perverted element of the Muslim East. Another threat is coming from some of its
founding fathers themselves. Permanent members of the Security Council, taking
their inspiration from the unfortunate precedent set by the United States at the
time of its intervention in Iraq in 2003 if not even from the military intervention of
some NATO countries in Kosovo, back in 1999 may be reputed to take a somewhat
flexible interpretation of some of the most fundamental principles of positive inter-
national law. This time, however, those states are no longer really looking to either
the vocabulary or the norms of current international law to justify their actions.
Hanna Arendt believed she could say that man had freed himself from both nature
and history. History is nevertheless resurfacing to justify a rupture with the univer-
sality of modern international law, a universality partially recast, however, by the
advent of the universality of the human person as a reference, which has emerged to
compete with the reference of respect for state sovereignty.

IV.  A Precarious International Constitutionalism

A rather muddled way of analysing the current situation might be to see it as a

questioning, on a large scale, of the sway the post-​war victorious powers have held
over international law. However, that way of seeing things, whilst it may at a push
apply to the adherents of Islamic fundamentalism as replacing the myth of the
Marxist revolution, is completely inapplicable to the behaviour of the United States
in 2003 or other permanent members of the Security Council. The loss of any com-
mon reference undermines the explicit universality of the message put out by the
UN Charter, as a historical project at risk of being reduced to a precarious collective
contract.
By the same token, the ‘constitutionalist’ effort of 1945 dear to Habermas is
revealed in all its precariousness. It saw itself as the product of a collective desire to
rationalize international relations. Yet was it, as the short-​lived product of an excep-
tional moment, ultimately based on an illusion—​the illusion that peoples could
stop history by bringing it once and for all under the reign of reason as Kant was
already inviting them to do in his essay on Perpetual Peace?
History, however, never stops, but it often falters. The desire to institutionalize
the subjective reign of reason would appear to have proved, if not futile, at least
in part naive. If we wanted to make almost the same observation this time from
the standpoint of Schopenhauer’s dualism, we would say that the Charter, which
is by definition part of the world of representation, was an invitation to an illusory
attempt to stem the tide of the will, that is to say, from Schopenhauer’s point of
view, of the spontaneous will to live, the irrational chaos of which the persistence
of war and hatred of the other is undoubtedly the least spasmodic manifestation.
One of the collateral victims of this shift is likely to be the reference to ‘human-
ity’ as affirmed in the early 1970s as a holder of rights and the organizing spirit
 509

Some Brief Conclusions 509

behind a significant amount of the international law of the last seventy years. It is
surely no accident that the deluded warriors of the so-​called Islamic State seek to
signify their difference precisely by committing ‘crimes against humanity’. They
signal their power by mocking that portion of humanity which each of their victims
carries inside and stake out their territory with severed heads.

V.  Competing Notions of Universality

The first, Kantian, notion of universality is that in the UN Charter, as already

pointed out above, based on the idea that there are truly universal values of which
the rights of the person and the pursuit of perpetual peace other than in the grave
are the most tangible sign. This is the universality of the declarations of human
rights, from 1776 to 1948, and emerged to complete the idea that the state of nature
must be able, despite the nature of the State, to yield before the communal law.
Alongside this, although much older, since it goes back to Descartes, we also
have the universality asserted by scientific and technical discourse, which believes
itself by definition to apply to everyone, in any latitude and in any age. It has
thereby come to replace regional mythologies, each of which, going beyond often
common themes, confirms the identity of the specific culture from which it came.
Those individual cultures are as a result reduced by the sweeping proclamations of
universalism (and very much despite them) to being merely picturesque, as that is
‘the misery of others’. The assertion of cultural diversity advocated by UNESCO
therefore perhaps hides in that regard, although against its wishes, an attempt to
balance out that technicist universalization.
The world of technology, in Heidegger’s sense, leads ultimately both to the aboli-
tion of Kant’s categorical imperatives and to an affirmation of the Nietzschean will
to power which ultimately has no other purpose than its own expansion. Both those
movements have therefore come to us from eighteenth-​century Europe in so far as
the rationalist Europe of the Enlightenment believed simultaneously in progress, in
the attainment of human happiness as the ultimate aim and in the advance of sci-
ence and technology which is the means of achieving it (the dream of the Voltairian
Third Republic petit bourgeois par excellence) but could not see that, by placing its
faith solely in reason as inherited from the Cartesian cogito, it also gave rise to the
inexorable ‘disenchantment of the world’ already denounced by Max Weber.

VI. Globalization

The globalization progressively coming to the fore at the end of the twentieth cen-
tury seems therefore to be revealing that the cosmopolitan purpose proposed by the
UN Charter is incapable of arresting the loss of meaning engendered by the techno-
logical age, articulating the drive for growth as an end in itself, increased productiv-
ity as a perpetual objective, a perpetual obsession with short-​term profitability and
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510 Pierre-Marie Dupuy

competition as the ultimate possible horizon. At that breakneck pace, mankind,

seeing itself quite clearly as the impecunious ‘master and possessor of nature’ is
jeopardizing a planet which has become unbreathable and headed for the sterility
of silent springs.
The regression we are currently witnessing appears therefore to be, at a deeper
level, an increasingly clear manifestation of that ‘universal loss of meaning’ of
which Heidegger and the Frankfurt School had both announced its emergence and
deplored its expansion.
At a stroke, the geostrategic or cultural causes which had been invoked pre-
viously, far from losing their force as explanations, can be seen precisely as the
indirect effects of a shift in history of a quite different magnitude, beginning in
western Europe several centuries ago, with the Discourse on Method … . The brutal
regression embodied in Islamic barbarism would in that respect in fact be related to
technicist savagery, just as destructive of the human environment, in the broadest
sense, as of the values which underpin it. In the same way that Heidegger himself,
misguided genius as he was, believed he had found in Nazism a return to the mean-
ing of history, radical Islamism is in the present age an archaic attempt to compen-
sate for the loss of a meaning it believes it can find in blind faith in a primitive god,
Allah becoming confused with Baal. The technicist and productivist globalization
triumphing in the capitalist world, by corroding the very values which allowed it to
exist, is thus contributing indirectly to the return of a summary divinity suitable for
those marginalized by capitalism. Is the eternal recurrence not always, ultimately,
the eternal recurrence of barbarism?

VII.  Towards a Programme to Combat Regression?

To devise a programme of action attempting to rein in the degradation of an inter-

national legal system established seventy years ago is beyond the scope of these brief
conclusions.
As optimism and hope remain a moral duty, we can nevertheless advance the
opinion that a necessary first step is to reread the authors whose works have been
analysed here, since, as already said, their successive contributions, going beyond
their differences if not to say their divergences, helped lay down the ideological
bedrock on which the normative framework of that system was built. We must
therefore stress the importance of an approach inspired by Antonio Cassese consist-
ing of reconciling realism and utopia. We must at the same time be aware of the
constraints imposed by the persistent inertia of sovereignties whilst inviting all peo-
ples to harmonize their visions of the future in pursuit of common aims which are
constantly being reformulated. Utopia is only reprehensible when it is a substitute
for action, not when it inspires it.
The pursuit of peace and the renunciation of recourse to force today still consti-
tute a crucial direction of travel. In order to give the UN Charter back its messianic
dimension, however, we now have to add to it the, inherently universal, cause of
 51

Some Brief Conclusions 511

safeguarding and restoring the health of the planet. As the Stockholm Declaration
on the human environment had already said, ‘we only have one Earth’, and it has
today been degraded to such a degree that it can only be restored to health with a
gigantic collective effort of universal cooperation, the framework and programme
for which were successfully laid out by the Paris Agreement on protection of the
global climate, adopted in December 2015. The formalism which is all too often
unthinkingly levelled against the law should therefore be seen on the contrary as a
means of clarifying the targets incumbent upon all the components of an interna-
tional community comprising, besides the States, the various participants in inter-
national civil society, because, from now on, upholding the law is quite clearly
too important to leave to the diplomats. It is, also, through invocation of a well-​
tempered Utopia that mercantile globalization will encounter competition from
a cosmopolitan solidarity intended to reinvest it with meaning whilst upholding
universal respect for the Other.
512
╇513

Index

absolute spirit, see Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Bentham, Jeremy╇12

Friedrich Bible╇ 60, 67, 147, 313, 381, 387
absolutism╇ 120, 130, 236, 366 390 Bijnkershoek, Cornelis van╇105
territorial╇116 Bobbio, Norberto╇352
accountability╇ 25, 109, 121, 396, Böckenförde, Ernst-╉Wolfgang╇41
Accursius╇93 Bodin, Jean╇ 3, 4, 78–╉91, 95, 97–╉8, 119–╉24,
Adam Smith Problem, see Smith, Adam 130, 132, 366, 371, 375, 411, 488–╉9
aesthetics╇19 doctrine of sovereignty╇ 80–╉2
Aeterni Regis╇426 fides╇90
age of sensibility╇ 284, 289–╉90 jus feciale╇ 83–╉4
aggressor (unjust)╇ 274–╉8 justum bellum╇90
agreement (diplomatic)╇34 public law of nations╇ 89
Alcácovas, Treaty€of╇423 relationships among Commonwealths╇ 82–╉3
Althusius, Johannes╇ 3, 14, 115–╉33, 232 universal public law╇ 86
consent,╇ 117, 120–╉8 Borgia, Cesare╇21, 84
federalism, see federalism boundaries (doctrine of natural)╇338, 341
Althusser, Louis╇ 29–╉30 Bull, Hedley╇ 3, 132, 155–╉6, 468–╉70
anachronism╇4, 134 Burlamaqui, Jean-╉Jacques╇264
analogy:
private law╇57 Calvinism╇ 116–╉22, 135, 368
reasoning by╇269 canon law, see law
anarchy╇ 119, 151, 165, 200, 201, 204, 324, Cantino planisphere╇437
407, 466–╉81 Capitulaciones de Santa€Fé╇427
Andreae, Johannes Valentinus╇94 Carnegie Endowment for International
Apel, Karl-╉Otto╇377 Peace╇107
Aquinas, Thomas╇ 11, 39, 41, 53, 60–╉4, 72–╉6, Caroline company╇392
387, 410, 444, 447–╉9, 452, 454–╉5, 459 Carr, Edward╇ 155, 477, 486
arbitration╇ 95, 99, 105, 106, 113 cartography╇14, 436
Arendt, Hannah╇ 165, 166, 249, 261, 307, Casas, Bartolomé de€las╇50
321, 508, Catholic:
Aristotle╇ 39–╉40, 47, 50, 60–╉1, 65, 68, 91, 98, catholic╉ism╇ 66–╉8, 117
123, 142, 147–╉9, 223, 226, 366, 371, Church╇ 52, 59, 63, 67, 70, 80, 285, 459–╉60
449, 452–╉3 kings╇ 426–╉32
Aristotelian–╉Thomism╇ 60–╉2 theology╇ 67, 75, 151, 367–╉8
Arnisaeus, Henning╇81 theory of Natural Law╇ 38, 53
Aufklärung, see Enlightenment Charter of the United Nations╇ 505–╉9
Augsburg Religious Peace╇116 checks and balances, see balance
Augustine╇ 11, 64, 445 Christendom╇409
Außenstaatsrecht, see external state law Christian:
authority╇ 9, 42, 49, 61, 97–╉100, 110–╉13, 361 Christianity╇ 63, 381–╉2, 157, 344
legal╇97, 438 Europe╇117, 340
political╇ 49, 280, 414 states╇ 45–╉6, 67–╉8, 157
authorization╇ 99, 168–╉9, 211, 268, 275, theology╇ 59–╉60, 63–╉4, 67, 367, 387
278–╉9, 312, 359, 400, 408 universalism╇116, 346
church, see Catholic, Protestant
balance: Cicero╇ 87, 231, 241, 253, 269
checks and balance╉s╇ 25, 31, 34 citizen of the world, see Montesquieu, Charles
political, see equilibrium Baron€de
of power╇ 9, 213, 263, 276, 278, 340, 362, citizenship╇ 33, 123, 301, 482
365, 388, 433, 467, 474–╉8, 480–╉1 civil:
Baldus, see Ubaldi, Baldo degli law, see law
Barbeyrac, Jean╇151, 264 war, see war
Bartolus, see Sassoferato, Bartolo da Civitas Dei╇ 12, 152, 226, 412
514

514 Index
Civitas maxima  8, 152, 216, 221, democracy  111, 128, 191, 245–​6, 399, 401,
225–​38, 267–​8, 273, 375, 489, 478, 492, 506
498, 500, 503 deliberative 111
Clausewitz, Carl Philipp Gottlieb von 343 dichotomy 282, 445
colonialism  4, 46–​50, 154, 241, 247, 251, of construction and critique  5, 15
385, 442 of particularism and universalism  483–​4
Columbus, Christopher  63, 426–​33, 441 disorder  25, 29, 81, 160–​82, 204, 270, 407,
commercial war, see war 443, 446, 469–​70, 472, 476, 484, 497
Commines, Philippe de 89 doctrine of sources, see international law
common: domination  6, 46, 48–​9, 53–​4, 190, 194, 324
good  57, 66, 69, 72–​5, 226–​7, 416–​17, dominium  46, 53–​4, 138, 142, 144, 149, 151,
482–​3, 499 389, 391, 405, 444, 450, 461
interests  104, 125, 276–​7, 482, 503 Dominus  53, 387, 389
Commonwealth (relationships Doneau, Hugues 93
among  Commonwealth​s) see Bodin, Jean dualism  7, 13, 268, 272, 275, 280, 282, 360,
concrete unity 29, 31 368, 400, 453, 470, 472, 485, 496, 508
confederate republic  14, 243, 259–​62 Dudley, Robert, Earl of Leicester 93, 94
confederation  128, 161, 175–​6, 334–​5, 355 dudum siquidem 426
European 161, 175 Dussel, Enrique 52
of Peoples  369 Dutch East India Company  40, 137, 386,
of states  204, 211–​12, 331, 350 392, 393
conquest  242, 251, 259–​61
conquista 445 Elizabeth I. 94
conscience  52, 178, 204, 209, 230, 271, Empire  22, 24, 32–​3, 40, 46–​7, 63, 69, 79, 97,
274–​5, 350, 353, 387, 444–​5, 450, 102, 118, 121, 123–​4, 126, 200, 204, 255,
457–​462, 505 343, 347, 383, 387, 391, 409, 421, 446,
of nations  268, 276 451, 460, 463
consent  9–​10, 27–​8, 36, 43, 46, 53, 58, 66, 72, European 382, 431
95–​6, 99 117, 120–​8, 136, 141–​3, 147, German 203
151, 156, 225, 227–​8, 248, 260, 267–​8, global 433
312, 370, 409, 430 Holy Roman  21, 79, 115, 121–​2, 126, 130,
consociation  121–​8 218, 338, 385, 411
constitutional 131 Iberian 420, 434
constitutionalism  37, 391, 401, 494, 503, Ottoman 424
505, 508 Portugese 386
organic 36 Spanish  433, 446, 463
constitutionalization  108–​9, 496, 498–​9 enemies of the human race 275, 278
contingency 37 Engels, Friedrich 12, 348
contract theory of state, see state (political enlightenment  152, 208, 236, 258, 293, 317,
community) 321, 345, 347, 352–​3, 363, 371, 388, 505,
cooperation (international)  179, 185, 192, 507, 509
195–​6, 198, 479 equality (sovereign) 98, 103
corpus juris civilis  86–​7, 102–​3, equilibrium  276–​8, 475, 481
cosmography 436 Erasmus, Desiderius 94
cosmopolitanism  240–​3, 334, 336, 341, 350, Eudaimonia 348
370, 505 eurocentrism 6, 301
Council of the Indies 393 Europe  40, 47, 63, 117–​19, 174–​7, 251, 258,
Covarrubias, Diego de 94 263–​81, 300, 301, 340, 343, 390–​1, 408,
covenant  119–​21, 131, 202, 439, 450 416, 418–​22
culture  8, 14, 19–​20, 33, 96, 229, 248, 297, 341–​ European confederation, see confederation
3 346, 350, 371, 394, 406, 419–​20, 496, 509 Europ​ean expansion, see expansion
cultures of anarchy  468–​70 exclusion (of the Other) 495
foreign 39, 53 eximiae devotionis 426
currency  279, 337, 390 expansion  33, 340, 343, 382, 390–​1, 393, 408,
424, 462, 509–​10
Dante Alighieri 11, 411 European  40, 258, 419–​20, 425, 440
de foro conscientiae 458 expansionism 135, 138
Decalogue  43, 118, 445, 454 experts (peritiores) 459
demarcation line 430 external state law  12, 257–​8, 362, 405, 406
 51

Index 515
faith  59, 67, 84–​5, 90–​1, 117–​18, 132, 138, individual rights  144
158, 187, 204, 381, 411, 443, 446, 450, just war  143
505–​6, 509–​10 laws of war  145
federalism  14, 115–​16, 122–​4, 127–​32 peace 146
Federalist Papers 122 resistance 143
federation  84, 176–​7, 180–​1, 304, 334, 370 slavery 143
Bismarck 130 social contract  141
world  304, 322–​3 Günther, Karl Gottlob 12
felicity (conditions of) 404
Fichte, Johann Gottlieb  14, 329–​51 Habermas, Jürgen  130, 311, 321, 505–​6, 508
cosmopolitanism  334, 340–​1, 350 Hague Convention (1899) 106
fides majestas 8 Hague Peace Conference 154
Filmer, John 366 Hamilton, Alexander 154
Finnis, John 57, 75 happiness  266, 269–​70, 287, 291, 320–​1, 361,
Florence 20, 27 371, 509
foedus, see state (political community) Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich  12, 154, 310,
Formey, Jean Henri Samuel 264 330–​3, 352–​78, 407, 490, 499
forum internum 67, 75 absolute spirit  355, 372–​3
Franklin, Benjamin 154 cosmopolitanism 370
Frederick II 237 external state law  257–​8, 362, 405
freedom  24, 41, 54, 69, 104, 107, 139, 144, familistic understanding of the state  366–​71
146, 155, 167–​9, 201, 203–​4, 208 individuality of states  375
academic  216–​18, 225 logos 367
of choice  47, 306 nomos 367
of commerce  138 polyarchic setting of social order  375–​7
contractual 214 universalistic individualism  368–​9
individual  196–​7 world history  356–​7, 359
from invasion  66 Heidegger, Martin  509–​10
political  261–​2 Heller, Hermann 352, 378
religious 118 Henry IV 135
of the seas  105, 135–​6, 138, 153 Herborn  116–​17, 19
of states  234, 255 historical materialism 19
French Revolution  129, 240, 280–​1, 314–​15, historicization  381–​2
322, 347, 349, 390 self-​  5
fundamentalism 508 history:
cyclical theory of  23
Gaius 103 of ideas  10, 19, 134, 238, 485
Geneva Convention, First (1864) 106 of international law  7, 15, 52, 108, 139, 263,
Gentili, Alberico  3, 4, 51, 56, 75, 78, 281, 382, 396, 418, 421–​2, 434, 442, 446,
87, 89, 92–​114, 145, 148, 368, 462, 493
386, 489 international legal  381–​97
absolutism 98 of international legal thought  2–​6,
history  96, 101, 102, 107 15–​16, 24, 36–​7, 76, 78, 216, 221, 238,
natural law  96–​8, 100, 106, 109 442, 465
and theologians  96, 105, 106, 107 of reception  75, 79, 136, 179–​80
universal community  100, 110 of theology  448, 453, 459
Global Administrative Law (GAL)  109–​11 of thought  156, 485, 498
globalization  52, 418, 487, 509–​1 world  356–​7, 372–​3
pre-​  109 Hobbes, Thomas  3, 8, 13, 81, 122, 130, 140,
God  21, 28, 38–​9, 41, 43, 49, 53, 59–​61, 150–​1, 160–​82, 184, 186, 232, 248–​55,
63–​4, 67–​8, 73, 120–​1, 140–​2, 367–​8, 301, 488
450, 454–​6 holism  366, 368, 371, 484
Görres, Johann Joseph von 347 holistic particularism  365–​7, 371–​2
Gray’s Inn 94 holistic universalism  367–​8, 370
Grotius, Hugo  3–​4, 8, 10, 51, 58, 73, 75, 87, Holy Alliance 374
105, 134–​58, 186, 216–​17, 219–​21, homogeneity:
230–​3, 253, 267, 386–​7 ethnic and cultural  338, 350
human rights, see Grotius, individual rights language 341
humanitarian intervention  143 social 366
516

516 Index
hostis humani generis (enemies of all intervention, humanitarian, see humanitarian
mankind) 99, 112 intervention
Hotman, François 89, 93 Iraq, invasion of (2003) 111
Hotman, Jean 94 Ius, see Jus
human rights, see rights
humanism  40, 47, 148, 447 Jefferson, Thomas 154
humanitarian intervention  143–​4, 153, John II, King of Portugal 428
383, 399 Junta:
right of 80 de Badajoz y Elvas 438
humanitarianism 383 de Valladolid 50
humanity  99–​101, 155, 202, 252–​3, 256–​9, jus:
315, 334, 341–​4, 353, 493, 506–​9 ad bellum  252, 273, 278, 493
duties of  202, 213, 270, 272, 277 cogens  111–​13, 219
law of  209, 213–​14, 253 commune  57, 253, 390–​1, 409
offices of  199–​207, 213, 269–​71 feciale, see Bodin, Jean
Hume, David  152, 288, 296 gentium  10, 38–​9, 40–​2, 44–​6, 48–​51, 53–​4,
Hundred Years’ War 20 59, 65, 69–​74, 140–​2, 149, 248, 250, 253,
255, 265, 398–​417
identity: in bello 273, 278
cultural or ethnic  494 naturae, see natural law
idiosyncratic 360 publicum 398
political 494 publicum europaeum  184, 276, 421,
religious 362, 369 442, 493
of states  155, 234, 375 publicum universale 222
imagination (legal) 396 voluntarium (Wolff)  229, 237
immanence 412 just:
imperialism  6, 20, 31–​3, 35, 256–​9, 261, 385, cause  50, 143, 145, 152, 273–​8
442, 460, 493 war  34, 44–​54, 70, 74, 143, 230–​5, 273–​6,
anti-​  460 332, 338, 361, 385–​93
cultural 35 justice  26, 48–​54, 83, 268–​80, 288–​90,
political and legal  421 335, 338
individual rights, see rights formal/​material or substantive  336
individual/​state-​analogy  186–​8 Grotius on  137, 142, 148, 156
individualism 368, 496 principle of  100–​1
inequality  170, 339, 384–​5 Justinian 97
global  383–​4, 396
hierarchical 406 Kant, Immanuel  8, 163, 180, 243, 272,
of nations  267 303–​28, 329–​31, 333–​5, 339, 343, 346–​7,
innovation (conceptual) 403 369–​70, 477, 490, 498, 505–​7, 509
institutionalism  188–​91, 195–​7, 295, 434, cosmopolitan law  326
474, 479, 499–​500, 508 principle of right  306
inter Cetera 426 universal will  320
inter gentes 407 Kellogg-​Briand Pact (1928) 111
interaction (sympathetic), see Smith, Adam Kelsen, Hans  234, 485, 496–​9
international community  13, 15, 36, 208, 317, Kierkegaard, Søren 12
472, 507, 511 Klüber, Johann Ludwig 12
International Court of Justice  58, 384, 507 Kluckhohn, Paul 346, 350
International Law Commission 384 Koskenniemi, Martti  31, 34, 51–​2, 105, 471
international law: Kuhn, Thomas S. 466, 487
Classics of (series)  107 Kuo, Ming-​Sung 110
customary  4, 219, 230–​1, 233–​4, 495
doctrine of sources of  14, 58, 60, 76, 462 labour 332, 337
universality of 508 language (originary) 339, 341
international legal thought  1–​5, 10, 19, 36, Lassalle, Ferdinand 336, 348
60, 75, 216, 221, 232, 305, 418, 423, Lauterpacht, Hersch 155
440, 442, 474, 481 law of nations  57, 70–​4, 101, 140, 177–​8, 202,
history of, see history 208–​15, 218, 240–​59, 281, 385–​6, 406,
International Relations (academic 417, 489
discipline)  3, 8, 10–​14, 19–​20, 32, 35, natural  265–​71
50, 95, 101, 330, 347, 464–​81 necessary  268–​71
 517

Index 517
principle of the  266, 277 language of technique  24
public  85–​9 techniques of government  24
voluntary 276 virtú 26
law: majestas 80, 84
canon  59, 67, 71, 87, 387, 389–​90, 409–​10, majority rule  123–​7, 130–​1
444, 462 Manutius, Paulus 94
civil  4, 10, 83, 87, 92–​114, 136, 139, 144, mare clausum 386
158, 178, 206, 211, 229–​30, 240–​62, 275, mare liberum  385–​6
293, 387, 391, 409–​10, 457 Martens, Georg Friedrich von 12
concept of  13, 20, 27–​8, 38, 73, 205, 243 Martyr, Petrus 38
constitutional  28, 261, 369, 395, 400, 477 Marx, Karl  249, 348, 506
cosmopolitan  306, 323, 325–​7, 369, materialism 249
477, 490 Medici  20–​1, 342
customary  45, 53, 58–​9, 76, 152, 230, Meinecke, Friedrich 352
234–​5, 410 Melanchthon, Philipp 94
eternal  59, 61, 449, 452 membership (rightful) 399
global 401 Menasse, Robert 15
internal  283, 330, 332–​3, 335 Mendoza, Bernardino 94
of nature, see natural law metaphysics  24, 39, 59, 237, 266, 487–​8, 507
private, see law, civil metaphysica generalis and specialis 222
Roman  10, 72, 83, 85, 93–​5, 102–​4, 110, of Morals (Kant)  304, 307, 311, 317
119, 125, 150, 194, 408–​9, 413, 416 method:
Roman Civil  93, 96, 102–​4, 106, 110 political  241, 244–​5
League of Nations  106–​7, 153, 180, 334, 492 systematic  15, 216, 219–​20, 231, 238
Lega Italia 20 Metternich, Klemens von 347
legal thought (international), see international military (standing army)  20–​1, 32, 62, 105,
legal thought 195, 237, 334, 361, 402, 408
legislation  45, 50, 124, 169, 177, 206, 305, Miller Atlas 437
320, 323, 393, 396 Molina, Louis 75
legitimacy  9, 39, 46, 99, 110, 112–​13, 167, Moluccas 431
192, 243, 362, 394, 398, 425, 475–​6, 482, monism  123, 496–​7
489–​90, 494, 496–​8, 502, 504, 507 Montchrétien, Antoine de 392
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm  8, 9, 152, 217, Montesquieu, Charles Baron de  3, 14,
222, 223 226, 264, 266 240–​62, 350
Lessius, Leonard 75 civil law  259–​62
linia meridionalis 436 concept of law  243
Livy 88, 253 confederate republic  259–​61
Locke, John  128, 151–​2, 224, 253, 257, 295, cosmopolitanism  240–​3
332, 390, 392, 468 international law  241, 243, 256
Lombardus, Petrus 39 political methodology  244
Louis XIII 139 moral:
love  27–​8, 59, 61, 64, 69, 73, 149, 224, 270, decision 446, 462
287, 343, 463 dilemma 456
Loyseau, Charles 89 good 452
Lubac, Henri de 448 law  306, 314, 444
Luhmann, Niklas  7, 471, 487, 500 moral​ity (political)  29
Luther, Martin 412 sentiments, see Theory of Moral Sentiments
Lyotard, Jean-​François 487 truth, knowledge of  61–​2
values  56–​7, 61–​2
Mably, Gabriel Bonnot de 388 More, Thomas 94
Machiavelli, Niccolò  3, 10, 11, 19–​37, 81, Morgenthau, Hans  365, 467–​81
83, 243, 338, 342–​3, 349–​50, 375, mos gallicus 89, 93
388, 392, 411, 418, 468, 485–​6, 488, mos italicus 89, 93
491, 498 Moser, Johann Jakob 12
concept of law  27 Müller, Adam 366, 375
concept of legal obligation  28
concrete unity  23 Napoleon  338, 340, 344–​5, 347–​9
cyclical theory of history  23 nation:
imperialism 31 -​building  338
internal stability  22 community of nations  68–​70, 73, 409
518

518 Index
nation (cont.): world  1, 62, 158, 251, 322, 323, 352–​74,
conscience of nation​s, see conscience of nations 446, 469, 498
society of (nations)  69, 263–​71, 273, ownership 47
275–​6, 279
state  299, 494, 496 Pacific 419
nationalism 338, 349 pacta sunt servanda  34, 45, 138, 231, 362
Nationalökonomie 389 particularism  187, 352, 371–​4, 482–​504
natural: holistic  365–​7
good 452 passion  167, 170, 186–​8, 191–​7, 244–​5, 270,
law  4, 6, 9, 12, 28, 43–​7, 71–​2, 74, 140, 284–​5, 291–​2, 295, 299, 388
150, 265–​6 383, 408, 410, 444 451–​6; patriotism 340
see also jus naturae peace:
necessity (political)  29–​30, 369 Fichte on  334–​7, 343–​4
Netherlands, the 135 of Lodi  20
New International Economic Order 383 perpetual, see perpetual peace
New World 38 temporal  64, 67, 69, 70–​5
Newton, Isaac 224 universal  201–​2, 369–​70
Nietzsche, Friedrich 12 Vattel on  270, 275
nominalism  60, 443, 447, 449, 465 of Westphalia  11, 54, 117, 128, 184,
nomos  249, 367, 422 200, 405
of the Earth (Carl Schmitt)  107, 421–​2 people (originary) 339
normativity  4–​6, 24, 27, 29–​30, 34–​6, 186, performativity 404
189–​90, 192–​3, 465–​6 Permanent Court of International Justice 51
of law  29, 146, 471 perpetual peace  2, 173–​6, 180, 272, 329,
of order  35 334, 343, 347, 350, 370, 385, 394, 477,
universal 33 505, 508–​9
Novalis (Friedrich von Hardenberg) 346, 350 Pestalozzi, Johann Heinrich 342
Nuremberg Trials (1945–​1946) 107 philosophy:
Nys, Ernest 51 Chinese  217, 228, 233
civil 413
obligation: legal  12, 54, 59, 225, 284–​6, 317, 353,
legal  9, 27–​8, 92, 98, 112, 142, 155, 187, 357, 389
405, 409, 410, 415 piis fidelium 426
moral  101, 207, 242, 504 pirates 99, 112
Ockham, William of 140 Plato  365–​6, 371
Oikeiosis 140, 148 pluralism  131–​2, 156, 323, 358, 360–​1, 484,
Oldenbarnevelt, Johan 135 488, 501–​4
ontology 405 Plutarch 88
lawful 411 political:
order: morality, see moral
communicative paradigm of  375–​7 order, see order
global  2, 38–​54, 116, 127, 132, 317, 323–​5, realism, see realism
369, 375–​6 Polizeiwissenschaft 388
legal  1, 4, 6, 25, 42, 48, 54, 56, 69, 70, Polybius 88
95, 108, 149, 180, 183, 211, 241, 245, Pope Alexander VI  84, 422, 426–​8, 435
303, 398, 400, 405–​10, 423, 442, 489, positivism (legal theory)  193, 327, 505
497, 501 Possevino, Antonio 81
medieval 410 postmodernism  501–​4
normativity of, see normativity potestas  39, 41, 46, 80, 98, 141, 142, 144, 178,
paradigms of  363–​9, 375, 484 184, 189, 193, 195, 207, 411, 414, 473
political  1, 14, 15, 67, 79, 96, 115, 130–​2, power:
160, 171, 181, 214, 244, 353, 362, 400, sovereign 400
410–​12, 415, 470, 473, 488, 499 public  145, 396, 399, 405–​6, 408–​14,
post-​unitary paradigms of  484 490, 494
social  1, 140, 162, 319, 352, 359, 363, 371 practical reason 460
Suárez on (peace and justice),  56–​8, 61, 64, progress  5–​6, 112, 146, 153, 155, 158, 233,
67–​70, 72–​74 258, 294, 298, 310, 312, 314, 339, 361,
universal 375, 445 374, 382, 384, 385, 485, 493, 505–​7
Westphalian, see Westphalia myth of 507
 519

Index 519
Protestant: individual  6, 36, 52, 70, 112, 115, 137, 144,
Church 412 153, 207, 220, 241, 257, 325, 368, 381–​2,
Protestantism (Political Theory of)  63, 117, 368 390, 449, 462, 482, 492, 505, 507, 509
theology 370 principle of, see Kant, Immanuel
proyecto de reconversion colonial 461 of resistance, see resistance
Pufendorf, Samuel von  11, 75, 151, 199–​215, subjective, see rights, individual
232, 264, 279 Rimini, Gregory of 140
absolute natural law  202 romanticism  329, 345–​6, 350–​1
equality  202–​3 political 366, 371
international duties  206 Romanus Pontifex 426
universal peace  201 Rome 33
puribus naturalibus 453 Rotteck, Karl von 348
Rousseau, Jean-​Jacques  3, 13, 128–​9, 160–​82,
Rachel, Samuel 105 279, 312–​13, 329, 368, 415, 488, 490, 506
raison d’état, see reason of state
rational choice 495 Saint-​Pierre, Abbé de  181, 255, 329, 394, 488
rationalism  10, 140, 149, 155, 210, 222, Salamanca School  38–​9, 59, 89, 390, 420,
224–​5, 264, 324, 371, 448, 459, 469–​70, 444–​9, 452–​3, 461
473, 505, 509 San Casciano 21
Rawls, John 196 Saragossa, Treaty of 423
realism  15, 19, 35, 154, 304 Sassoferato, Bartolo da  85, 93, 103
in International Relations  12, 467–​8, 474 Savigny, Carl Friedrich von 8
philosophical 447 Savonarola 21, 27
political  19, 35, 155–​6, 179, 214 Saxony 275
reason of state  14, 35, 117, 145, 149, 257, 261, Scaliger, Julius C. 94
361, 411, 415 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph 12
reception  5, 12, 20, 39, 50, 71, 74–​5, 79, 92, Schlegel, Friedrich von  346–​8, 350–​1
4, 101–​2, 128, 136, 153, 158, 161, 179, Schmitt, Carl  21, 107, 179–​80, 273, 277,
220, 240, 265, 267, 280, 284, 304, 315, 345–​6, 360, 373, 421–​4, 457–​8,
322, 415 485–​6, 491–​4
reciprocity  203, 227, 267, 279, 307, 407 scholasticism  11, 38, 46, 83, 105, 137, 148,
recognition  14, 101, 288, 295, 324, 330–​1, 151, 186, 191, 223, 237, 375, 387, 389,
362, 367–​8, 374, 497–​8, 502, 507 405, 443
Reformation  40, 52, 59, 62, 68, 115–​16, 119, School of Salamanca, see Salamanca School
370, 408, 411–​2, 432 science (legal) 409
Rehberg, August Wilhelm 329 Scotus, John Duns  41, 60, 454–​5
Reichstage 125 Selden, John 105, 138
Renaissance  20, 36, 93, 385, 408 Self-​:
republic: love, see Smith, Adam
confederate, see confederation preservation  137, 140, 150, 155, 167, 168,
republicanism  347–​8 185–​6, 201, 203, 214, 251–​7, 339
world 369 sensibility, see age of sensibility
res publica christiana 409 Sepúlveda, Juan Ginés de 50
resentment, see Smith, Adam Seven Year’s War 275, 393
resistance (right of) 80 Seville, Isidore of 87
revolution  21, 174, 176, 329, 344, 347–​9, 367, slavery  46, 83, 143–​4, 241, 247, 256, 392
381, 400 natural 47, 50
of 1595  118 Smith, Adam  150, 283–​302, 337, 388, 390,
of 1848  348, 366 392, 394
cartographic 420 ‘Adam Smith problem’  284–​5, 291
historical 79 circles of sympathy  299
Marxist 508 direct vs. indirect sympathy  292–​3
political 79 resentment  293–​300
spatial 421 self-​interest  284–​5
Richelieu, Armand-​Jean de 140 self-​love  287
rights: strangers  299–​301
cosmopolitan  326–​7, 334–​5 sympathetic interaction  288, 293
fundamental  155, 219, 391 sympathy  290–​3
human, see rights, individual Theory of Moral Sentiments  284–​6, 388
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520 Index
Smith, Adam (cont.): Stoicism  87, 95, 100, 140, 148, 155, 208,
Umschwungtheorie 284 290, 367–​8
Wealth of Nations  284–​7, 290–​2, 388 stranger  299–​301, see Smith, Adam
sociability  131, 141, 313, 368, 373, 490 Strauß, David Friedrich 348, 381
social contract  42, 121–​2, 149, 167–​74, 249, Stuart, Mary 94
266, 373, 403 Suárez, Francisco  4, 51, 56–​77, 148, 186, 386
socialism 336, 348 alleged modernity  62–​3
societal cohesion 32 common good(s)  65–​70
society (membership in international) 398 law of nations  70–​3
Solórzano Pereira, Juan de 105 life and intellectual background  59–​62
Soto, Domingo de 75, 94 reception  74–​6
sources of international law, see systematic legal scholarship  73–​7
international law theology  63–​5
sovereignty: subjective rights, see rights, individual
absolute 14, 81 summa potestas  80, 141, 178, 184, 411
doctrine of  78–​81, 97, 123 summa theologiae  39, 60, 73, 387
relative 68 sympathy, see Smith, Adam
state  132, 358, 360, 362, 375, 402, system:
499, 508 Atlantic 419
Speculum Conscientiae 459 of collective security  7
Spinoza, Baruch de  3, 9, 13, 183–​98, 415 of law  28, 95, 149, 158, 305, 309, 327,
concept of law  191–​2 367, 467
concept of state  189 legal  3, 8, 9, 13, 29, 73–​4, 107, 223, 267,
doctrine of passions (affectus)  186–​8, 296, 300–​1, 304–​5, 317, 335, 367, 390,
191–​3, 195–​7 488, 494–​7, 503, 505, 510
doctrine of power (potentia/​ political  130, 141, 263, 273, 277, 418, 467,
potestas)  188–​91, 194–​5 471, 472
naturalistic account  192–​3, 195–​6 of states  7, 156, 405
non-​ideal theory  196–​7 systematic scholarship  73–​4
normativity  192–​3 Westphalian 7, 52
rational governance  197–​8 systems theory 471
role of individual  188–​92, 194–​5, 197
sui juris-​concept  194–​5 theology:
St Bartholomew’s Day 117 Catholic  75, 151, 367
Staatslehre 400 Christian, see Christian
state (condition): moral  40, 387, 390, 446, 449, 450, 462
lawful  410–​11 practical  447, 450, 463
of nature  137–​8, 144, 147, 160–​75, Protestant 370
185–​8, 200, 230, 248, 255, 323, 356, science of 449
416, 453, 509 Thomistic 447
state (political community): Theory of Moral Sentiments, see Smith, Adam
(inter-​/​supra-​) state order  212, 360, 398–​9 Thomasius, Christian  75, 255, 392
association of states (foedus)  190–​1 Thomism 444
-​building  401–​2, 417 Thou, Jean-​August de 89
commercial closure of the  336–​8 thought (international legal), see international
concept  377, 398–​400, 416, 438 legal thought
confederation of states, see confederation of states Thucydides  140, 365, 371
contract theory of  369, 490 Tordesillas, Treaty of 422
early modern  40, 419 torture 112
family of state​s  407 trade  40, 42, 47, 53, 63, 69, 118, 137–​8, 144,
-​fragility  402 157, 184, 195, 197, 214, 242–​8, 258, 336,
freedom of state​s  214 388, 393–​5, 408, 426
fundamental rights of state​s  219 free  336, 388, 394, 463
modern  57, 130, 398–​400, 414, 417 long-​distance  394
stateness  405, 407, 415 policy 395
stateness, performative ideal of  407 spice 433
theory  369, 399-​411 tradition (Grotian)  3, 153–​7, 385
statehood  10, 191, 197, 200, 387, 391, 493 Treaty of Alcácovas, see Alcácovas
legitimate 399 Treaty of Saragossa, see Saragossa
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Index 521
Treaty of Tordesillas, see Tordesillas jus gentium  38-​53
Treitschke, Heinrich von 349 jus naturale  40-​42
Tudeschi, Niccolò de’ (Panormitanus) 94 jus naturale and jus gentium, distinction
tyranny  25, 48, 68, 115–​20, 197 between 42
leges 40
Ubaldi, Baldo degli 85, 93 rationalitas and risibilitas 41
Ulpian 98 totus orbis  44–​5
Umschwungtheorie, see Smith, Adam VOC, see Dutch East India Company
United Nations  107, 153, 383–​4, 401, 506–​7 voluntarism 74
General Assembly  384
UNESCO 383 Waltz, Kenneth  467, 469, 475
universalism,  104, 116, 352, 367, 370–​4, war:
482–​504, 509 of the Austrian Succession  264
anti-​  246 civil  84, 119, 135, 166, 169, 172, 407–​8,
Christian, see Christian 411, 507
liberal 152 commercial 337
religious 347 declaration of  274, 374
Utilitas 413 Hundred Years’, see Hundred Years’ War
Utopia  8, 15, 147, 157, 161, 269–​70, 309, just, see just war
328, 339, 477, 510–​11 laws of, see jus in bello
realistic 9 mass 344
Utopiannism 15 pre-​emptive (anticipatory self-​defence)  111
between Spain and the United
Vattel, Emer de  3, 146, 152, 216–​17, 220, 227, Provinces 94
229, 232, 238, 263–​82, 316, 387, 392 Wealth of Nations, see Smith, Adam
dualism 268, 272 Westphalia:
duties (perfect and imperfect)  275 Westphalia​n law  183,
equality 267, 279 Westphalia​n order  132,
independence  266, 268, 271 Westphalia​n state system  281, 474
liberty  276–​80 Westphalian system  7, 52,
non-​interference  266 peace of, see peace of Westphalia
obligation  264-​68 Wight, Martin 155
offices of humanity  269–​70 Wolff, Christian  8–​10, 152, 264–​6
political system (Europe as)  276 barbarous nations  229
positivism 267, 272 Civitas maxima 225
regular war  273–​5 fiction 228
right (internal and external)  268 jus gentium consuetudinarium 230
rights (perfect and imperfect)  271 jus gentium naturale 230
universal republic  277 jus gentium pacititium 230
Vázquez de Menchaca, Fernando 137, 148 jus gentium voluntarium 230
Venice, Republic of 79 mathematics  217, 220, 224
Verdross, Alfred 75, 185 moral person  232, 234
Verenigte Oostindische Compagnie, see Dutch perfection 225
East India Company philosophical system  222
Vindiciae Contra Tyrannos 119 political economy  235
Viroli, Maurizio 35 quasi-​agreement  227
Vitoria, Francisco de  4, 11, 14, 38–​55, 60, 83, societas magna 226
94, 107, 137, 140, 148, 186, 253, 390, systematization 224
393, 443–​63
dominium 46, 53 Zouche, Richard 105
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