Rousseau and the Social Contract

Introduction

This work will primarily serve to be a reflection on The Social Contract by Jean-Jacque Rousseau. In this work Rousseau deals with questions of human nature, freedom, and what is meant by the "general will" and "social contract" and the means by which a government should be organised.

The operation of burning [copies of Rousseau’s "Social Contract" in Geneva] was perhaps as odious as that of writing it. […] If the book was dangerous, it should have been refuted. To burn a book of argument is to say: "We do not have enough wit to reply to it"

Voltaire, Republican Ideas, 1762

The Social Contract contains the most famous work by social and political theorist Rousseau. This work contains his concepts of the organisation of government, and the way in which one can justify this government. Rousseau makes the argument that the Social Contract can exist and the fact that society exists means that to some extent people consent to it. I hope I can live up to Voltaire’s expectations above and, rather than odiously burn the text, I can have the wit to reply to it.

Rousseau on Early Humans and Human Nature

Let us first consider Rousseau’s view of human nature. Rousseau thinks that very early humans lived solitary lives, hardly seeing other humans, and with few needs and abundant resources there was little need for competition. At this time, there would be no private property, and so no inequality. Moreover, humans were naturally empathetic and so had no desire to ever harm one another. It was only the "invention", so to speak, of private property that made humans corrupted.

I trust I do not need to explain why this view of humanity is totally detached from reality. In fact, it is Rousseau himself who provides the evidence this view of humans can not be correct. Rousseau mentions Robinson Crusoe as being the master of his island - "anyway, Adam was undeniably sovereign of the world, as Robinson Crusoe was of his island, as long as he was its only inhabitant; and this empire had the advantage that the monarch, safe on his throne, had nothing to fear from rebellions, wars, or conspirators". Alone on his island, Crusoe is capable of cultivating private property. It is not "invented" at some discreet time, but rather the natural process of Crusoe engaging in cultivating produce to sustain himself. As Mises observes "unemployment in the unhampered market is always voluntary"; but what does this mean, exactly? In a totally unhampered market (of which Crusoe is currently a sole member (therefore no trade is currently possible)), Crusoe always has the opportunity to generate wealth via the means of homesteading, that is, by mixing his labour with scarce and otherwise unclaimed resources. Crusoe is always employed so long as he continues to exist, for he must always engage in homesteading to sustain himself. As a practical example, Crusoe may pick bananas off of trees or make a spear to hunt wild boar. These are all examples of the ways in which he might mix his labour with scarce resources for profit (the profit here being, of course, life and comfort rather than a monetary profit, as no money exists in Crusoe’s market (for he is the only member, and trade being impossible, has no need for it)).

Does the result of this calculation vary once a second person enters the island? Not in the slightest. Now that Friday has arrived on the island, both men must engage in homesteading for sustenance . The only change of significance is now some form of trade is possible. That being that Crusoe may engage more in the hunting of boar and Friday may engage more in the picking of bananas, and then they exchange these items. The benefit here is there is some efficiency from the economy of scale, so, after the trade is done, each may end up with more than if he had hunted boar and picked bananas separately. If this seems odd, just consider a few reasons, perhaps the boar hunting grounds are best on the other side of the island, so changing jobs from picking to hunting requires some transportation time. Whereas, staying with one job for a whole day eliminates this needless movement.

Already, we have found significant issues with the foundations of Rousseau’s theory, nevertheless, we must persist. At any rate, Rousseau’s view that the invention of property was a kind of "fall from grace" moment simply isn’t true; property is a necessity and inevitable by product of homesteading as a means of survival. Moreover, the view that no greed, competition, inequality or violence existed between humans before a certain date is obviously incorrect. I don’t think I even need to state in too much detail why. However, I will note that Rousseau appears to me to be trying to create an alternative Garden of Eden, one that does not require a God. Of course, any such attempts are obviously doomed to failure since the Garden of Eden is understood as a metaphysical place and not a real place. Although it wasn’t my intention when starting this article, as I write this, I do wonder whether Rousseau views his social contract in a quasi-religious manner. It is often said that atheists will make a religion of their science, and I think here is certainly an ideal example.

On Definitions of Freedom

Rousseau’s position on freedom is of direct relevance to us. He considers freedom to be a triumph of reason over passions. Now, this isn’t in of itself a terrible partial definition of freedom. Certainly, we can observe some to become slaves to their own passions; to be masters of ourselves we must reject an animalistic way of life and embrace what we are of the highest order; that is – human. However, two problems present themselves immediately.

The first is of Rousseau’s position of early man: he claims men were "born free but everywhere in chains", that is, that early man was "free". Is it likely that very early humans showed a triumph of reason over passion? Indeed, it was likely that most resources were scarce and immediate survival was a higher priority than philosophy. Given how seemingly little philosophy has advanced over the last few thousand years it certainly seems challenging indeed, it seems unlikely that many were engaged in it.

The second problem is the definition in of itself. A man could be a master over his own passions and totally enlightened, yet kept in a cage – can we really call him free. Indeed, Ayn Rand in Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal defines freedom very simply as "freedom, in a political context, has only one meaning: the absence of physical coercion". What does this mean? Put simply it means that without physical violence being used against us we can become free. Rand was not without an understanding of reason in her definition of freedom; in For the New Intellectual she writes "These two—reason and freedom—are corollaries, and their relationship is reciprocal: when men are rational, freedom wins; when men are free, reason wins". There is, then, some component of reason in her definition of freedom, but this stems naturally from the lack of physical coercion. Indeed in Philosophy: Who Needs It she gives a much more expanded definition:

Do not be misled ... by an old collectivist trick which goes like this: there is no absolute freedom anyway, since you are not free to murder; society limits your freedom when it does not permit you to kill; therefore, society holds the right to limit your freedom in any manner it sees fit; therefore, drop the delusion of freedom—freedom is whatever society decides it is.

It is not society, nor any social right, that forbids you to kill—but the inalienable individual right of another man to live. This is not a “compromise” between two rights—but a line of division that preserves both rights untouched. The division is not derived from an edict of society—but from your own inalienable individual right. The definition of this limit is not set arbitrarily by society—but is implicit in the definition of your own right.

Within the sphere of your own rights, your freedom is absolute.

What we see here then is a stark rejection of "society" imposing physical coercion on a man. He is free so long as this condition is true; and all men are free so long as he does not use physical coercion against them. Or again in Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal:

Freedom, in a political context, means freedom from government coercion. It does not mean freedom from the landlord, or freedom from the employer, or freedom from the laws of nature which do not provide men with automatic prosperity. It means freedom from the coercive power of the state—and nothing else.

What does this mean for Rousseau? Rousseau considers a similar question in The Social Contract, he writes "you will ask: ‘how can a man be both free and forced to conform to wills that are not his own’". Indeed, this appears to be a sticking point here – how is this possible? Rousseau answers: "I reply that the question is wrongly put. The citizen gives his consent to all the laws, including ones that are passed against his opposition, and even laws that punish him when he dares break any laws. The constant will of all the members of the state is the general will; by virtue of it they are citizens and free". Unfortunately, we will have to totally disagree with Rousseau here. We simply only need ask what happens when a man does not wish to, or can not morally, consent to a law (you may think of any number of real life laws governments have passed that are totally evil), and I leave it up to the reader what "general will" of the populace would have to do to such an individual in order to maintain the social order.

The General Will

Rousseau’s view on the general will extends beyond what we could call absolute. Rousseau says "to protect the social compact from being a mere empty formula, therefore, it silently includes the undertaking that anyone who refuses to obey the general will is to be compelled to do so by the whole body. This single item in the compact can give power to all the other items. It means nothing less than that each individual will be forced to be free". What we see here is nothing short of a logical contradiction. Even taking Rousseau’s own definition of freedom, that is, a triumph of reason over instincts, we must ask – by what means would we do this? Any methodology in which we engage in this would lead us only into some kind of social engineering or "reeducation". What this means, in reality, is putting a gun to people’s heads till they agree with you (verbally, at least, people, under such circumstances, do not have a tendency to actually change their own views – making them not free under Rousseau’s own definition). Notwithstanding, any such "forced education" can only be described as physical coercion, thus denying the more robust definition of freedom given by Rand (and others).

It follows from all this that the general will is always in the right and always works for the public good; but it doesn’t follow that the people’s deliberations are always equally correct. Our will is always for our own good, but we don’t always see what that is; the populace is never corrupted, but it is often deceived, and then—but only then—it seems to will something bad.

The will of all is very different from the general will; the latter looks only to the common interest, while the former looks to private interest and is no more than a sum of particular wills: but remove from these same wills the pluses and minuses that cancel one another and what is left of the particular wills adds up to the general will.

If the populace held its deliberations (on the basis of adequate information) without the citizens communicating with one another, what emerged from all the little particular wills would always be the general will, and the decision would always be good. But when plots and deals lead to the formation of partial associations at the expense of the big association, the will of each of these associations—the general will of its members—is still a particular will so far as the state is concerned; so that it can then be said that as many votes as there are men is replaced by as many votes as there are associations. The particular wills become less numerous and give a less general result. And when one of these associations is so great as to prevail over all the rest, the result is no longer a sum of small particular wills but a single particular will; and then there is no longer a general will, and the opinion that prevails is purely particular

Here we must take great issue with Rousseau. He does not seem capable of considering the very question that he asks, namely: "can the general will ever be wrong?". He certainly answers "can a particular will masquerade as the general will", but this "general will" is what we are concerned with here. Can it ever be wrong? Indeed, what would it mean for the "general will" to be right. Just as we have seen with democracy, politicans elected do not always do the right thing. That seems clear. And I don’t just mean morally, I also mean pragmatically. Poor economic policy has robbed some nations of prosperity, all voted for. In the other sense, morally, we can we really imagine that a group of people will never make an immoral decision just because there is a crowd; after all, we oppose mob justice for just this reason.

His view on collectives is also unrealistic. Rousseau claims that

As long as a number of men gathered together regard them- selves as a single body, they have only a single will, which is concerned with the survival and well-being of all of them. In this case, the state’s machinery is all vigorous and simple and its rules clear and luminous; there’s no tangle of hidden agendas; the common good is always obvious, and only good sense is needed to perceive it.

Is this really true? I think only a short amount of thought will reveal it is not. Indeed, at least some of the people involved in such a collective would become "corrupted" (by Rousseau’s definition, at least); thinking of themselves and trying to improve their own situation through use of the force of the state. This is only natural and failing to take it into account is a huge oversight for Rousseau. Consider what Burnham says on reflection of Michels in The Machiavellians. Burnham tells us that a true democracy, that is "self rule", is possible in a very small group of adults who all share the same goal in that particular situation. When Burnham says "small" he is thinking of single digit numbers. As soon as this group grows practical details that Rousseau does not consider come to light: is there anyone that it would be wise to exclude from the decision making process? Children? Criminals? Who decides the boundaries of this exclusion? When a group grows in this size, the likelihood that a decision that everyone can agree to is reached drops to almost null (and if one is reached, the next decision, or the next or the next or the… will eventually cause an unresolvable difference); at least some people are going to have to be coerced in some way to accepting decisions they do not agree with.

A more subtle but important point Rousseau misses here Burnham also explains. Rousseau presents such a system as though there will be no leaders in such a general meeting. Burnham is dismissive of this. There may be no formal leaders; that is, there may not be a president, prime minister, chief and so on; however, a real leader is almost inevitable: there shall be some who have more experience, wealth or respect due to their age, knowledge, wisdom or action which give them more power in any such system than others. Consider the following thought experiment. Four people are kidnapped in their sleep and dropped via parachute into the four corners of a field. Within one minute they have all met one another. Within 15 minutes the group either has a leader, or it has dissolved. Such is the nature of humans.

The Social Contract

But what is the social contract? The social contract is broadly defined as a theory that an individual, explicitly or tacitly, surrenders some of their freedoms to the state in exchange for protection of the remaining freedoms from the state.

Having already covered Rousseau’s position on the "general will", we see how logically, a social contract can follow from it. Given my critiques of the assumptions of Rousseau by now, I think it should not be a surprise to any reader I continue to have a laundry list of issues with his idea of a social contract also.

Rousseau is, however, very coy about actually defining such a contract. The social contract "never have been explicitly stated, they are everywhere the same and everywhere tacitly accepted and recognised". I trust you see that IF such "social contracts" exist, they are not everywhere the same, they are obviously not universally recognised (else I would not be writing this article). I trust the reader also understands how a contract that is never stated, such that both parties do not clearly understand what is contained within it is no contract at all. This is especially true when this contract is handing powers over to some kind of state – it now has a blank contract with which it can impose any will it wishes.

Rousseau provides a handy summary of what an individual would lose and gain by the social contract he lays out. A man would stand to lose:

• "his natural liberty"
• "an unrestricted right to anything he wants and can get"

And a man stands to gain:

• "civil liberty"
• "the ownership of everything he possesses"

Rousseau differentiates between natural liberty ("which is limited only by the individual’s powers") from civil liberty ("which is limited by the general will"). And he differentiates possession ("which is merely the effect of force or the principle of ‘first come; first served’") from property ("which can only be based on a positive title").

Immediately problems with this arise. Firstly, his definition of "natural liberty" is suspect; harking back to Rand or Crusoe alone on his island, we know that no such "natural liberty" exists beyond the space at which he can mix his own labour with resources. As Rand saliently points out one is not free to murder just because he is capable of such an act.His definition of "civil liberty" also falls flat – to say we become "free" in some other way by placing the arbitrary restrictions of the "general will" upon us is simply a misnomer. Finally, to differentiate between these two "liberties" is simply tyrannical. We are free, at our liberty, when there is no physical coercion against us. The imposition of this "general will" is the opposite of liberty – it is pure anti-liberty. Indeed, his definition of "possession" and "property" is not appropriate. He says that possession is "merely" first come, first serve; it is not "merely" at all – the mixing of one’s labour with original, unappropriated goods is the absolute cornerstone of property. To say that pieces of paper issued by the government somehow makes this more legitimate is akin to the state as a religion.

Rousseau goes further than this to state that "man naturally has a right to everything he needs". Such, of course, is false. Crusoe, alone on his island, obviously has no such right. He may freely mix his labour with original unappropriated resources to produce some of the things he needs, but this is totally different to a "right" to these final goods. In order to have a right to the final goods of this chain somebody else would have to mix their labour with resources. Such is called slavery, if done under the threat of physical coercion. Perhaps though, what Rousseau means by this is naturally man has a right to mix his labour with original unappropriated resources, but (and I think by now a pattern is emerging), Rousseau’s language is too vague and too imprecise to get any gauge on what he really means. Charitably, the statement is useless. Consider closer what it means for something to be a "right". To declare something a "right" means we unequivocally believe this right is an irrevocable aspect of humans qua humans. Certainly for physical goods (say, bananas) we simply do not have an infinite supply (and, of course, the infinite supply of labour to harvest them) to make bananas an irrevocable aspect of humanity qua humanity.

Rousseau does have some redeeming qualities however. One of the consequences of his view of democracy is that states must be small – small enough that everyone in them can meet frequently. It is in these meetings that democracy takes place, not so much at the mass ballot box of today. Western civilisations like Britain or America would not count as democracies to Rousseau.

I think my critiques of Rousseau have been through enough now, I will leave him on this quote. I trust by now you see that this is only a summary of madness:

A state governed like that doesn’t need many laws; and when new ones are needed, everyone will see that they are. The first man to propose them is merely putting into words what they have all been thinking, and there’s no place here for deals or for eloquence in order to get passed into law something that each of them has already decided to do as soon as he’s sure that the rest will act with him.

Conclusions

The primary issues that come with the "social contract" come in both of the terms. One, we must ask what is a "society"? Insofar, I have never become aware of any proof for a society; and those who claim its existence say it is simply evident. Well, I do not find this to be the case. Instead, what I find is the term is defined so loosely and used so loosely that anything, everything and nothing could be "society", and without a rigorous definition (a definition whereby I can guarantee my use of "society", after being defined, enters your mind and means the same thing) simply has not been achieved. Secondly, "contract" also poses an issue. In what way is this a contract? Indeed, I did not ever sign this contract, and when I ask proponents of this theory to produce the contract in detail, they seem unable to. Indeed, even when giving vague alludes to what is in this so-called contract there appears to be huge disagreement. The truth is, of course, no such "contract" exists or has ever been formulated in any kind of detail, such that "social contract" can mean anything, everything and nothing, in order to justify whatever it is that the invoker would like to mean.

This brings us to another issue, that is, consent. Imagine a robber accosts you on the street:

"Give me all your money!" says the robber.

If panic and fear didn't totally overcome you, you might say something like "You have no right to my money!"

"Oh, I do, you are bound by the Looter Contract" replies the robber

"I have never agreed to any such contract!" you would reply, in earnest!

"Yes you did, the contract is implied"

If you think my example is far fetched, consider now this one:

"Give me all your money and your house" says the state.

"But this is my money and house, you have no right to take it!" you protest.

"Your social contract compels you to obey the general will, which has determined this is right."

"I never agreed to any such contract!"

"Yes, you did, this contract is implied"

This brief imaginary exchange highlights the underlying issue with the social contract. What makes sex not rape? Consent. What makes a purchase in a shop not theft? Consent (NOT the payment – it is still theft to take an item without permission and leave the money). What makes the "social contract" not an authoritarian presumption on a free individual? Magic fairy dust, it seems. Indeed, I have argued with some proponents of the theory and apparently it is implied that I have agreed to this contract. By what means?

References

Jean-Jacques Rousseau The Social Contract, 1762

D’Agnostino, Fred, Gerlad Gaus and John Thrasher, "Contemporary Approaches to the Social Contract", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, available from https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/contractarianism-contemporary/

Voltaire Republican Ideas, 1762

Celeste Friend, "Social Contract Theory", Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, available from https://iep.utm.edu/soc-cont/#Sh2c

Ludwig von Mises Human Action, 1940

Hans-Hermann Hoppe The Economics and Ethics of Private Property, 1993

Ayn Rand The Voice of Reason: Essays in Objectivist Thought, 1989

Ayn Rand Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal, 1967

Ayn Rand For the New Intellectual, 1961

Ayn Rand Philosophy: Who Needs It, 1982