Jean-Jacques Rousseau · Complete work
Book II, Chapter 2
Book II, Chapter 2 of 49. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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Que la souveraineté est indivisible.
Par la même raison que la souveraineté est inaliénable, elle est indivisible. Car la volonté est générale, ou elle ne l’est pas; elle est celle du corps du peuple, ou seulement d’une partie. Dans le premier cas cette volonté déclarée est un acte de souveraineté & fait loi: Dans le second, ce n’est qu’une volonté particuliere, ou un acte de magistrature; c’est un décret tout au plus.
Mais nos politiques ne pouvant diviser la souveraineté dans son principe, la divisent dans son objet; ils la divisent en force & en volonté, en puissance législative & en puissance exécutive, en droits d’impôts, de justice, & de guerre, en administration intérieure & en pouvoir de traitter avec l’étranger: tantôt ils confondent toutes ces parties & tantôt ils les séparent; ils font du Souverain un être fantastique & formé de pieces rapportées; c’est comme s’ils composoient l’homme de plusieurs corps dont l’un auroit des yeux, l’autre des bras, l’autre des pieds, & rien de plus. Les charlatans du Japon depécent, dit-on, un enfant aux yeux des spectateurs, puis jettant en l’air tous ses membres l’un après l’autre, ils font retomber l’enfant vivant & tout rassemblé. Tels sont à peu près les tours de gobelets de nos politiques; après avoir démembré le corps social par un prestige digne de la foire, ils rassemblent les pieces on ne sait comment.
Cette erreur vient de ne s’être pas fait des notions exactes de l’autorité souveraine, & d’avoir pris pour des parties de cette autorité ce qui n’en étoit que des émanations. Ainsi, par exemple, on a regardé l’acte de déclarer la guerre & celui de faire la paix comme des actes de souveraineté, ce qui n’est pas; puisque chacun de ces actes n’est point une loi mais seulement une application de la loi, un acte particulier qui détermine le cas de la loi, comme on le verra clairement quand l’idée attachée au mot loi sera fixée.
En suivant de même les autres divisions on trouveroit que toutes les fois qu’on croit voir la souveraineté partagée on se trompe, que les droits qu’on prend pour des parties de cette souveraineté lui sont tous subordonnés, & supposent toujours des volontés suprêmes dont ces droits ne donnent que l’exécution.
On ne sauroit dire combien ce défaut d’exactitude a jetté d’obscurité sur les décisions des auteurs en matiere de droit politique, quand ils ont voulu juger des droits respectifs des rois & des peuples, sur les principes qu’ils avoient établis. Chacun peut voir dans les chapitres III & IV du premier livre de Grotius comment ce savant homme & son traducteur Barbeyrac s’enchevêtrent s’embarrassent dans leurs sophismes, crainte d’en dire trop ou de n’en dire pas assez selon leurs vues, & de choquer les intérêts qu’ils avoient à concilier. Grotius, refugié en France, mécontent de sa patrie, & voulant faire sa cour à Louis XIII à qui son livre est dédié, n’épargne rien pour dépouiller les peuples de tous leurs droits & pour en revétir les rois avec tout l’art possible. C’eut bien été aussi le goût de Barbeyrac, qui dédioit sa traduction au Roi d’Angleterre Georges I. Mais malheureusement l’expulsion de Jacques II qu’il appelle abdication, le forçoit à se tenir sur la reserve, à gauchir à tergiverser pour ne pas faire de Guillaume un usurpateur. Si ces deux écrivains avoient adopté les vrais principes, toutes les difficultés étoient levées, & ils eussent été toujours conséquents; mais ils auroient tristement dit la vérité & n’auroient fait leur cour qu’au peuple. Or la vérité ne mene point à la fortune, & le peuple ne donne ni ambassades, ni chaires, ni pensions.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete French text of the 1762 edition, all four books and the appendix for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
That Sovereignty Is Indivisible.
For the same reason that sovereignty is inalienable, it is indivisible. For the will is general or it is not; it belongs to the body of the people, or merely to a part. In the first case, this declared will is an act of sovereignty and makes law; in the second, it is only a private will, or an act of magistracy: at most, a decree.
But our political theorists, unable to divide sovereignty in its principle, divide it in its object. They divide it into force and will, legislative power and executive power, rights of taxation, justice, and war, domestic administration and the power to negotiate with foreigners. At times they confuse all these parts, at times they separate them. They make the Sovereign into a fantastic being assembled from disparate pieces, as if they were composing a man out of several bodies, one with eyes, another with arms, another with feet, and nothing more. Japanese charlatans, it is said, dismember a child before the spectators' eyes, then toss all its limbs into the air one after another and make the child fall back down alive and whole. Such, more or less, are the conjuring tricks of our political theorists: after dismembering the social body with an illusion worthy of a fairground, they somehow put the pieces back together.
This error comes from failing to form a precise idea of sovereign authority and mistaking its emanations for parts of that authority. Thus, for example, declaring war and making peace have been considered acts of sovereignty, which they are not, since neither act is a law, but only an application of law: a particular act that determines the case to which the law applies, as will become clear once the meaning of the word law has been fixed.
Following the other divisions in the same way, we would find that whenever sovereignty seems to be divided, we are mistaken: the rights taken for parts of sovereignty are all subordinate to it, and always presuppose supreme wills of which these rights are only the execution.
It is impossible to say how much obscurity this lack of precision has brought to the judgments of authors on matters of political right, when they have tried to determine the respective rights of kings and peoples on the basis of the principles they had established. Anyone can see in chapters III and IV of the first book of Grotius how this learned man and his translator Barbeyrac entangle themselves in their sophistries, afraid of saying too much or too little for their purposes and of offending the interests they wished to reconcile. Grotius, a refugee in France, discontented with his own country and eager to court Louis XIII, to whom his book is dedicated, spares no effort to strip peoples of all their rights and invest kings with them as skillfully as possible. This would certainly have suited Barbeyrac as well, for he dedicated his translation to King George I of England. But unfortunately the expulsion of James II, which he calls an abdication, forced him to keep his guard up, to bend and equivocate so as not to make William an usurper. Had these two writers adopted the true principles, every difficulty would have vanished, and they would always have been consistent; but they would have told the sad truth and courted only the people. Truth, however, does not lead to wealth, and the people give neither embassies, nor professorships, nor pensions.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the complete French text of the 1762 edition, all four books and the appendix.
Sovereignty Cannot Be Divided.
For the same reason that sovereignty cannot be given away, it cannot be divided. A will is either general or it is not. It belongs either to the whole people or only to a part of them. In the first case, the expression of this will is an act of sovereignty and makes law. In the second case, it is merely a private will, or an act of a magistrate. At most it is a decree.
But our political writers, unable to divide sovereignty at its source, divide it according to what it does. They split it into force and will, legislative power and executive power, the powers to tax, dispense justice, and wage war, domestic administration and the power to make agreements with foreign countries. Sometimes they mix all these parts together; sometimes they pull them apart. They make the sovereign into an imaginary being made of assembled pieces. It is as if they put a human together out of several bodies, one with eyes, another with arms, and another with feet, and nothing more. Japanese performers, it is said, cut a child into pieces before the audience. Then they throw all its limbs into the air one after another, and the child lands alive and whole again. The tricks of our political writers are much the same. They cut the social body into pieces with a fairground illusion, then somehow put the pieces back together.
This mistake comes from not having a clear idea of sovereign authority and treating what flows from that authority as if it were a part of the authority itself. For example, declaring war and making peace have been considered acts of sovereignty. They are not, since neither is a law. Each is only an application of the law, a specific act deciding a case under the law. This will become clear once we have settled what we mean by the word law.
The same holds for the other divisions. We would find that whenever we think sovereignty has been split, we are mistaken. All the rights taken for parts of sovereignty are subordinate to it. They always depend on the sovereign will and serve only to carry out its decisions.
It is hard to say how much confusion this lack of precision has caused in the judgments of writers on political right. They try to decide what rights kings and peoples have in relation to each other by applying their own principles. Anyone can see, in chapters III and IV of the first book of Grotius, how that learned man and his translator Barbeyrac get caught up and tangled in their own weak arguments. They are afraid of saying too much or too little for their purposes and of offending the interests they want to reconcile. Grotius, a refugee in France, unhappy with his homeland and wanting to win favor with Louis XIII, to whom he dedicated his book, does everything he can to strip peoples of all their rights and bestow those rights on kings. Barbeyrac would have liked that too, since he dedicated his translation to George I, King of England. But unfortunately for him, James II's expulsion, which he calls an abdication, forced him to be cautious, dodge the issue, and change course to avoid making William look like a usurper. If these two writers had accepted true principles, all their difficulties would have disappeared, and they would have been consistent throughout. But they would have had to tell the uncomfortable truth and seek favor only with the people. Truth does not bring a fortune, and the people hand out no ambassadorships, professorships, or pensions.