Jean-Jacques Rousseau · Complete work
Preface
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PRÉFACE.
La plus utile et la moins avancée de toutes les connaissances humaines me paraît être celle de l’homme; et j’ose dire que la seule inscription du temple de Delphes contenait un précepte plus important et plus difficile que tous les gros livres des moralistes. Aussi je regarde le sujet de ce discours comme une des questions les plus intéressantes que la philosophie puisse proposer, et, malheureusement pour nous, comme une des plus épineuses que les philosophes puissent résoudre: car comment connaître la source de l’inégalité parmi les hommes, si l’on ne commence par les connaître eux-mêmes? et comment l’homme viendra-t-il à bout de se voir tel que l’a formé la nature, à travers tous les changements que la succession des temps et des choses a dû produire dans sa constitution originelle, et de démêler ce qu’il tient de son propre fonds d’avec ce que les circonstances et ses progrès ont ajouté ou changé à son état primitif? Semblable à la statue de Glaucus, que le temps, la mer et les orages avaient tellement défigurée qu’elle ressemblait moins à un dieu qu’à une bête féroce, l’ame humaine, altérée au sein de la société par mille causes sans cesse renaissantes, par l’acquisition d’une multitude de connaissances et d’erreurs, par les changements arrivés à la constitution des corps, et par le choc continuel des passions, a pour ainsi dire changé d’apparence au point d’être presque méconnaissable; et l’on n’y trouve plus, au lieu d’un être agissant toujours par des principes certains et invariables, au lieu de cette céleste et majestueuse simplicité dont son auteur l’avait empreinte, que le difforme contraste de la passion qui croit raisonner, et de l’entendement en délire.
Ce qu’il y a de plus cruel encore, c’est que tous les progrès de l’espèce humaine l’éloignant sans cesse de son état primitif, plus nous accumulons de nouvelles connaissances, et plus nous nous ôtons les moyens d’acquérir la plus importante de toutes; et que c’est en un sens à force d’étudier l’homme que nous nous sommes mis hors d’état de le connaître.
Il est aisé de voir que c’est dans ces changements successifs de la constitution humaine qu’il faut chercher la première origine des différences qui distinguent les hommes, lesquels, d’un commun aveu, sont naturellement aussi égaux entre eux que l’étaient les animaux de chaque espèce avant que diverses causes physiques eussent introduit dans quelques-unes les variétés que nous y remarquons. En effet, il n’est pas concevable que ces premiers changements, par quelque moyen qu’ils soient arrivés, aient altéré, tout à la fois et de la même manière, tous les individus de l’espèce; mais les uns s’étant perfectionnés ou détériorés, et ayant acquis diverses qualités, bonnes ou mauvaises, qui n’étaient point inhérentes à leur nature, les autres restèrent plus longtemps dans leur état originel: et telle fut parmi les hommes la première source de l’inégalité, qu’il est plus aisé de démontrer ainsi en général que d’en assigner avec précision les véritables causes.
Que mes lecteurs ne s’imaginent donc pas que j’ose me flatter d’avoir vu ce qui me paraît si difficile à voir. J’ai commencé quelques raisonnements, j’ai hasardé quelques conjectures, moins dans l’espoir de résoudre la question, que dans l’intention de l’éclaircir et de la réduire à son véritable état. D’autres pourront aisément aller plus loin dans la même route, sans qu’il soit facile à personne d’arriver au terme; car ce n’est pas une légère entreprise de démêler ce qu’il y a d’originaire et d’artificiel dans la nature actuelle de l’homme, et de bien connaître un état qui n’existe plus, qui n’a peut-être point existé, qui probablement n’existera jamais, et dont il est pourtant nécessaire d’avoir des notions justes, pour bien juger de notre état présent. Il faudrait même plus de philosophie qu’on ne pense à celui qui entreprendrait de déterminer les précautions à prendre pour faire sur ce sujet de solides observations; et une bonne solution du problème suivant ne me paraîtrait pas indigne des Aristote et des Pline de notre siècle: « Quelles expériences seraient nécessaires pour parvenir à connaître l’homme naturel; et quels sont les moyens de faire ces expériences au sein de la société? » Loin d’entreprendre de résoudre ce problème, je crois en avoir assez médité le sujet pour oser répondre d’avance que les plus grands philosophes ne seront pas trop bons pour diriger ces expériences, ni les plus puissants souverains pour les faire; concours auquel il n’est guère raisonnable de s’attendre, surtout avec la persévérance ou plutôt la succession de lumières et de bonne volonté nécessaire de part et d’autre pour arriver au succès.
Ces recherches si difficiles à faire, et auxquelles on a si peu songé jusqu’ici, sont pourtant les seuls moyens qui nous restent de lever une multitude de difficultés qui nous dérobent la connaissance des fondements réels de la société humaine. C’est cette ignorance de la nature de l’homme qui jette tant d’incertitude et d’obscurité sur la véritable définition du droit naturel: car l’idée du droit, dit M. Burlamaqui, et plus encore celle du droit naturel, sont manifestement des idées relatives à la nature de l’homme. C’est donc de cette nature même de l’homme, continue-t-il, de sa constitution et de son état, qu’il faut déduire les principes de cette science.
Ce n’est point sans surprise et sans scandale qu’on remarque le peu d’accord qui règne sur cette importante matière entre les divers auteurs qui en ont traité. Parmi les plus graves écrivains, à peine en trouve-t-on deux qui soient du même avis sur ce point. Sans parler des anciens philosophes, qui semblent avoir pris à tâche de se contredire entre eux sur les principes les plus fondamentaux, les jurisconsultes romains assujettissent indifféremment l’homme et tous les autres animaux à la même loi naturelle, parce qu’ils considèrent plutôt sous ce nom la loi que la nature s’impose à elle-même que celle qu’elle prescrit, ou plutôt à cause de l’acception particulière selon laquelle ces jurisconsultes entendent le mot de loi, qu’ils semblent n’avoir pris en cette occasion que pour l’expression des rapports généraux établis par la nature entre tous les êtres animés pour leur commune conservation. Les modernes ne reconnaissant, sous le nom de loi, qu’une règle prescrite à un être moral, c’est-à-dire intelligent, libre, et considéré dans ses rapports avec d’autres êtres, bornent conséquemment au seul animal doué de raison, c’est-à-dire à l’homme, la compétence de la loi naturelle; mais définissant cette loi chacun à sa mode, ils l’établissent tous sur des principes si métaphysiques, qu’il y a, même parmi nous, bien peu de gens en état de comprendre ces principes, loin de pouvoir les trouver d’eux-mêmes. De sorte que toutes les définitions de ces savants hommes, d’ailleurs en perpétuelle contradiction entre elles, s’accordent seulement en ceci, qu’il est impossible d’entendre la loi de nature, et par conséquent d’y obéir, sans être un très grand raisonneur et un profond métaphysicien: ce qui signifie précisément que les hommes ont dû employer pour l’établissement de la société des lumières qui ne se développent qu’avec beaucoup de peine, et pour fort peu de gens, dans le sein de la société même.
Connaissant si peu la nature, et s’accordant si mal sur le sens du mot loi, il serait bien difficile de convenir d’une bonne définition de la loi naturelle. Aussi toutes celles qu’on trouve dans les livres, outre le défaut de n’être point uniformes, ont-elles encore celui d’être tirées de plusieurs connaissances que les hommes n’ont point naturellement, et des avantages dont ils ne peuvent concevoir l’idée qu’après être sortis de l’état de nature. On commence par rechercher les règles dont, pour l’utilité commune, il serait à propos que les hommes convinssent entre eux; et puis on donne le nom de loi naturelle à la collection de ces règles, sans autre preuve que le bien qu’on trouve qui résulterait de leur pratique universelle. Voilà assurément une manière très commode de composer des définitions, et d’expliquer la nature des choses par des convenances presque arbitraires.
Mais, tant que nous ne connaîtrons point l’homme naturel, c’est en vain que nous voudrons déterminer la loi qu’il a reçue, ou celle qui convient le mieux à sa constitution. Tout ce que nous pouvons voir très clairement au sujet de cette loi, c’est que non seulement, pour qu’elle soit loi, il faut que la volonté de celui qu’elle oblige puisse s’y soumettre avec connaissance, mais il faut encore, pour qu’elle soit naturelle, qu’elle parle immédiatement par la voix de la nature.
Laissant donc tous les livres scientifiques qui ne nous apprennent qu’à voir les hommes tels qu’ils se sont faits, et mé ditant sur les premières et plus simples opérations de l’ame humaine, j’y crois apercevoir deux principes antérieurs à la raison, dont l’un nous intéresse ardemment à notre bien-être et à la conservation de nous-mêmes, et l’autre nous inspire une répugnance naturelle à voir périr ou souffrir tout être sensible, et principalement nos semblables. C’est du concours et de la combinaison que notre esprit est en état de faire de ces deux principes, sans qu’il soit nécessaire d’y faire entrer celui de la sociabilité, que me paraissent découler toutes les règles du droit naturel; règles que la raison est ensuite forcée de rétablir sur d’autres fondements, quand, par ses développements successifs, elle est venue à bout d’étouffer la nature.
De cette manière on n’est point obligé de faire de l’homme un philosophe avant que d’en faire un homme; ses devoirs envers autrui ne lui sont pas uniquement dictés par les tardives leçons de la sagesse; et tant qu’il ne résistera point à l’impulsion intérieure de la commisération, il ne fera jamais du mal à un autre homme, ni même à aucun être sensible, excepté dans le cas légitime où, sa conservation se trouvant intéressée, il est obligé de se donner la préférence à lui-même. Par ce moyen on termine aussi les anciennes disputes sur la participation des animaux à la loi naturelle; car il est clair que, dépourvus de lumières et de liberté, ils ne peuvent reconnaître cette loi; mais tenant en quelque chose à notre nature par la sensibilité dont ils sont doués, on jugera qu’ils doivent aussi participer au droit naturel, et que l’homme est assujetti envers eux à quelque espèce de devoirs. Il semble en effet que si je suis obligé de ne faire aucun mal à mon semblable, c’est moins parce qu’il est un être raisonnable que parce qu’il est un être sensible, qualité qui, étant commune à la bête et à l’homme, doit au moins donner à l’une le droit de n’être point maltraitée inutilement par l’autre.
Cette même étude de l’homme originel, de ses vrais besoins, et des principes fondamentaux de ses devoirs, est encore le seul bon moyen qu’on puisse employer pour lever ces foules de difficultés qui se présentent sur l’origine de l’inégalité morale, sur les vrais fondements du corps politique, sur les droits réciproques de ses membres, et sur mille autres questions semblables, aussi importantes que mal éclaircies.
En considérant la société humaine d’un regard tranquille et désintéressé, elle ne semble montrer d’abord que la violence des hommes puissants et l’oppression des faibles: l’esprit se révolte contre la dureté des uns, ou est porté à déplorer l’aveuglement des autres; et comme rien n’est moins stable parmi les hommes que ces relations extérieures que le hasard produit plus souvent que la sagesse, et que l’on appelle faiblesse ou puissance, richesse ou pauvreté, les établissements humains paraissent, au premier coup d’œil, fondés sur des monceaux de sable mouvant: ce n’est qu’en les examinant de près, ce n’est qu’après avoir écarté la poussière et le sable qui environnent l’édifice, qu’on aperçoit la base inébranlable sur laquelle il est élevé, et qu’on apprend à en respecter les fondements. Or, sans l’étude sérieuse de l’homme, de ses facultés naturelles, et de leurs développements successifs, on ne viendra jamais à bout de faire ces distinctions, et de séparer, dans l’actuelle constitution des choses, ce qu’a fait la volonté divine d’avec ce que l’art humain a prétendu faire. Les recherches politiques et morales auxquelles donne lieu l’importante question que j’examine sont donc utiles de toutes manières, et l’histoire hypothétique des gouvernements est pour l’homme une leçon instructive à tous égards. En considérant ce que nous serions devenus abandonnés à nous-mêmes, nous devons apprendre à bénir celui dont la main bienfaisante, corrigeant nos institutions et leur donnant une assiette inébranlable, a prévenu les désordres qui devraient en résulter, et fait naître notre bonheur des moyens qui semblaient devoir combler notre misère.
Quem te Deus esse
Jussit, et humanâ qua parte locatus es in re,
Disce.
Pers. sat. III, v. 71.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete French text (dedicatory epistle, preface, both parts and the notes) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
PREFACE.
Of all human knowledge, knowledge of man seems to me the most useful and the least advanced; and I dare say that the inscription on the temple at Delphi alone contained a precept more important and more difficult than all the weighty volumes of the moralists. I therefore regard the subject of this discourse as one of the most absorbing questions philosophy can raise, and, unfortunately for us, one of the most thorny philosophers can resolve. For how are we to know the source of inequality among men if we do not begin by knowing men themselves? And how will man manage to see himself as nature formed him, through all the changes that the passage of time and events must have worked upon his original constitution, and to distinguish what belongs to him inherently from what circumstances and his own progress have added to or changed in his first condition? Like the statue of Glaucus, so disfigured by time, the sea, and storms that it resembled a savage beast rather than a god, the human soul, altered in the midst of society by a thousand ever-renewed causes, by the acquisition of a multitude of facts and errors, by changes in the constitution of bodies, and by the continual collision of passions, has so changed its appearance, as it were, that it is almost unrecognizable. In place of a being always acting by fixed and unchanging principles, in place of that heavenly and majestic simplicity its maker impressed upon it, we find only the misshapen contrast of passion imagining itself rational and understanding gone mad.
Crueler still, since every advance of the human species constantly carries it farther from its original condition, the more new knowledge we accumulate, the more we deprive ourselves of the means of acquiring the most important knowledge of all; in one sense it is by studying man so intently that we have made ourselves incapable of knowing him.
It is easy to see that in these successive changes in the human constitution we must seek the first origin of the differences that distinguish men, who, by common consent, are naturally as equal among themselves as the animals of each species were before various physical causes introduced into some species the varieties we observe. Indeed, it is inconceivable that these first changes, however they came about, altered all the individuals of the species at once and in the same way. Some grew better or worse, acquiring various good or bad qualities not inherent in their nature, while others remained longer in their original condition. This was the first source of inequality among men, easier to demonstrate in general terms than to identify precisely in its actual causes.
Let my readers not imagine, then, that I flatter myself I have seen what seems to me so difficult to see. I have begun a few lines of reasoning and ventured a few conjectures, less in the hope of resolving the question than in the intention of clarifying it and setting it in its true light. Others may readily go farther along the same path, though it will not be easy for anyone to reach the end. For it is no small undertaking to disentangle what is original from what is artificial in man's present nature, and to know accurately a condition that no longer exists, perhaps never existed, and probably never will exist, yet of which we must have a sound conception if we are to judge our present condition well. Even to determine what precautions would be needed to make reliable observations on this subject would require more philosophy than one might suppose; and a good solution to the following problem would not, I think, be unworthy of the Aristotles and Plinys of our century: “What experiments would be needed to come to know natural man, and what means are there of carrying out these experiments within society?” Far from undertaking to solve this problem, I believe I have reflected on it enough to venture an answer in advance: even the greatest philosophers will not be too accomplished to direct these experiments, nor the most powerful sovereigns too powerful to carry them out. Such cooperation can hardly reasonably be expected, especially with the perseverance—or rather the succession of insight and good will—required on both sides for success.
These inquiries, so difficult to carry out and so little considered until now, are nevertheless the only means left to us of resolving a host of difficulties that hide from us the real foundations of human society. It is this ignorance of man's nature that throws so much uncertainty and obscurity over the true definition of natural right: for the idea of right, says M. Burlamaqui, and still more that of natural right, are manifestly ideas relative to the nature of man. It is from this very nature of man, he continues, from his constitution and his condition, that the principles of this science must be drawn.
It is with both surprise and indignation that one observes how little agreement prevails on this important matter among the various authors who have treated it. Among the most serious writers one can scarcely find two of the same opinion on the point. To say nothing of the ancient philosophers, who seem to have made it their task to contradict one another on the most fundamental principles, Roman jurists subject man and every other animal indiscriminately to the same natural law, because by that name they mean the law nature imposes on itself rather than one it prescribes—or, rather, because of the particular sense in which these jurists understand the word law, which on this occasion they seem to take only as the expression of general relations established by nature among all living beings for their common preservation. Modern thinkers, recognizing as law only a rule prescribed to a moral being—that is, an intelligent, free being considered in relation to other beings—accordingly confine the jurisdiction of natural law to the rational animal alone, that is, man. Yet each defining this law in his own way, they all establish it upon such metaphysical principles that even among us very few people are capable of understanding them, much less discovering them for themselves. Thus all the definitions of these learned men, otherwise in perpetual contradiction, agree only in this: one cannot understand the law of nature, and therefore cannot obey it, without being a consummate reasoner and a profound metaphysician. This means precisely that, to establish society, men must have employed insights that develop only with great difficulty, and in very few people, within society itself.
Knowing so little of nature and agreeing so poorly on the meaning of the word law, we would find it very hard to settle upon a good definition of natural law. Accordingly, all those found in books, besides failing to agree with one another, suffer from being derived from kinds of knowledge men do not naturally possess and from advantages they can conceive only after leaving the state of nature. Writers begin by seeking rules upon which it would serve the common good for men to agree; then they call the collection of these rules natural law, offering no proof beyond the good they discover would follow from their universal practice. This is certainly a very convenient way of composing definitions and explaining the nature of things by nearly arbitrary arrangements.
But so long as we do not know natural man, we will strive in vain to determine the law he has received, or the law that best suits his constitution. All we can see quite clearly about this law is that, for it to be law, the will of the person it binds must be able to submit to it knowingly; and, for it to be natural, it must speak directly through the voice of nature.
Leaving aside, then, all the scientific books that teach us only to see men as they have made themselves, and reflecting upon the first and simplest operations of the human soul, I think I discern there two principles prior to reason. One makes us keenly concerned for our well-being and self-preservation; the other inspires in us a natural repugnance to seeing any sentient being perish or suffer, especially our fellow humans. From the cooperation and combination that our mind can make of these two principles, without any need to introduce sociability, all the rules of natural right seem to me to flow—rules that reason is subsequently forced to reestablish upon other foundations when, through its successive developments, it has managed to stifle nature.
In this way we need not make man a philosopher before making him a man; his duties toward others are not dictated to him solely by the belated lessons of wisdom. So long as he does not resist the inward impulse of compassion, he will never harm another man, or indeed any sentient being, except in the legitimate case where his preservation is at stake and he is compelled to give himself preference. This also puts an end to the old disputes over whether animals share in natural law. It is clear that, lacking understanding and freedom, they cannot recognize that law; but since they share something of our nature through the capacity to feel, we must judge that they, too, ought to share in natural right, and that man is bound by some kind of duty toward them. Indeed, it seems that if I am obliged not to harm my fellow human, that is less because he is a rational being than because he is a sentient being: a quality common to beast and man that ought at least to give the former the right not to be needlessly mistreated by the latter.
This same study of original man, his true needs, and the fundamental principles of his duties is again the only sound means we can use to resolve the many difficulties arising over the origin of moral inequality, the real foundations of the political body, the reciprocal rights of its members, and a thousand similar questions, as important as they are poorly understood.
Seen with a calm and disinterested eye, human society at first seems to display nothing but the violence of the powerful and the oppression of the weak. The mind rebels at the harshness of the former or is moved to lament the blindness of the latter. And because nothing among men is less stable than those outward relations, produced more often by chance than by wisdom, which we call weakness and power, wealth and poverty, human institutions appear at first glance founded on heaps of shifting sand. Only when we examine them closely, only after brushing aside the dust and sand that surround the building, do we perceive the unshakable base upon which it stands and learn to respect its foundations. Without a serious study of man, of his natural faculties and their successive development, we will never succeed in making these distinctions and separating, in the present constitution of things, what the divine will has done from what human art has presumed to do. The political and moral inquiries occasioned by the important question I examine are therefore useful in every way, and the hypothetical history of governments offers man an instructive lesson in every respect. By considering what we would have become if left to ourselves, we must learn to bless the one whose beneficent hand, correcting our institutions and giving them an unshakable foundation, has forestalled the disorders that should have followed from them and brought forth our happiness from the very means that seemed destined to complete our misery.
Learn what sort of being God
Has commanded you to be, and what place in human affairs
You occupy.
Pers. sat. III, v. 71.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the complete French text (dedicatory epistle, preface, both parts and the notes).
PREFACE.
Of all human knowledge, knowledge of human beings seems to me the most useful and the least developed. I would even say that the single inscription on the temple at Delphi gave an instruction more important and harder to follow than all the moralists' thick books. So I regard the subject of this discourse as one of the most interesting questions philosophy can raise and, unfortunately for us, one of the hardest for philosophers to answer. How can we learn where inequality among human beings comes from if we do not first understand human beings themselves? And how can a person see what nature originally made us, through all the changes that time and events must have made to our original makeup? How can we distinguish what belongs to us by nature from what circumstances and our advances have added to or changed in our first condition? Think of the statue of Glaucus. Time, the sea, and storms had so disfigured it that it looked less like a god than a wild animal. In the same way, the human mind has changed within society through a thousand constantly renewed causes: the acquisition of much knowledge and many errors, changes in the makeup of our bodies, and the constant clash of passions. It has, so to speak, changed its appearance until it is almost unrecognizable. Instead of a being always guided by certain, unchanging principles, instead of the heavenly and noble simplicity impressed on it by its maker, we now find only the ugly contrast between passion that thinks it reasons and understanding driven mad.
What is even worse is that every advance of the human species takes it further from its original condition. The more new knowledge we gather, the less able we become to gain the most important knowledge of all. In a sense, studying human beings so much has left us unable to understand them.
It is easy to see that we must look for the first source of the differences between human beings in these successive changes in our makeup. Everyone agrees that by nature human beings are as equal to one another as animals of each species were before various physical causes produced the differences we now observe within some species. It is impossible to imagine that the first changes, however they happened, affected every member of our species at once and in the same way. Some improved or deteriorated, acquiring various good or bad qualities that were not part of their nature, while others remained in their original condition longer. This was the first source of inequality among human beings. It is easier to show this in general than to identify its actual causes precisely.
So my readers should not imagine that I claim to have seen what I find so difficult to see. I have begun a few lines of reasoning and ventured a few guesses, less in the hope of settling the question than to make it clearer and put it in its proper form. Others will easily be able to go further along the same path, though it will be hard for anyone to reach the end. It is no small task to separate what is original from what is artificial in human nature as it exists today. We need to understand a condition that no longer exists, may never have existed, and probably never will exist, yet we must have accurate ideas about it to judge our present condition properly. Anyone setting out to determine what precautions are needed to make sound observations on this subject would need even more philosophical skill than people think. A good answer to the following problem would be worthy of the Aristotles and Plinys of our century: “What experiments would be needed to learn about natural man, and how could those experiments be carried out within society?” Far from attempting to solve the problem, I think I have considered it enough to say in advance that even the greatest philosophers would not be too capable to direct these experiments, and even the most powerful rulers would not be too powerful to conduct them. We can hardly expect such cooperation, especially with the continued effort—or rather the successive contributions of insight and goodwill—required on both sides for success.
These investigations are so difficult, and so few people have thought of them until now. Yet they are the only means we have left to clear up the many difficulties that keep us from understanding the real foundations of human society. Our ignorance of human nature creates so much uncertainty and confusion about the true definition of natural right. As Mr. Burlamaqui says, the idea of right, and even more the idea of natural right, clearly depends on the nature of human beings. The principles of this field of knowledge must therefore be drawn, he continues, from human nature itself, from our makeup and our condition.
It is both surprising and disturbing to see how little the various writers on this important subject agree. Among even the most serious authors, one can hardly find two with the same opinion on the matter. Set aside the ancient philosophers, who seem to have made a point of contradicting one another on the most basic principles. Roman legal scholars placed human beings and all other animals equally under the same natural law. They did this because by that term they meant the law nature imposes on itself rather than a law it commands; or, more precisely, because they used the word law in a special sense here, apparently to mean the general relations nature establishes among all living things for their shared preservation. Modern writers, by contrast, recognize as law only a rule laid down for a moral being—that is, one that thinks, is free, and is considered in relation to other beings. They accordingly limit the reach of natural law to the only animal with reason: the human being. But each defines this law in a different way, and they all base it on principles so abstract that even among us very few people can understand them, much less discover them for themselves. All the definitions given by these learned men, despite their constant contradictions, thus agree on just one thing: understanding and therefore obeying the law of nature would be impossible unless one were a very skilled reasoner and a profound student of abstract philosophy. This means, precisely, that human beings must have used, to establish society, knowledge that develops only with great difficulty and among very few people even within society itself.
We know so little about nature and agree so little on the meaning of the word law that it would be very hard to agree on a good definition of natural law. The definitions found in books are not only inconsistent. They also rely on kinds of knowledge people do not have by nature and on advantages they cannot even imagine until after leaving the state of nature. The writers begin by looking for rules it would be useful for people to agree on for everyone's benefit. Then they call the collection of those rules natural law, with no proof except the benefit they believe would come from everyone following them. That is certainly a very convenient way to make definitions and explain the nature of things through almost arbitrary preferences.
But until we know natural man, it is pointless to try to determine the law he has received or the law best suited to his makeup. What we can see very clearly about this law is that, to be a law, the person bound by it must be able to submit to it knowingly. And to be natural, it must speak directly through the voice of nature.
So I put aside all the scientific books, which teach us only to see human beings as they have made themselves, and consider the earliest and simplest workings of the human mind. I think I see there two principles older than reason. One makes us deeply concerned for our own well-being and self-preservation. The other gives us a natural reluctance to see any feeling being, especially one of our own kind, die or suffer. It seems to me that all the rules of natural right arise from the way our minds can bring these two principles together and combine them, with no need to introduce sociability. Later, as reason develops step by step and succeeds in stifling nature, it must establish those same rules again on other foundations.
In this way there is no need to turn someone into a philosopher before making them a human being. Our duties to others are not taught to us only through the late lessons of wisdom. As long as we do not resist our inner feeling of compassion, we will never harm another human being, or even any feeling being, except when our own survival is at stake and we must rightly put ourselves first. This also settles the old disputes about whether animals are included in natural law. They plainly cannot recognize that law, since they lack understanding and freedom. But their capacity to feel links them in some measure to our nature. We must therefore judge that they too share in natural right, and that human beings have some duties toward them. Indeed, it seems that if I am obliged not to harm another person, that is less because the person can reason than because the person can feel. Since animals and humans share this quality, animals should at least have the right not to be mistreated needlessly by humans.
This same study of original human beings, their real needs, and the basic principles of their duties is also the only good way to resolve the many problems concerning the origins of moral inequality, the true foundations of the political community, the mutual rights of its members, and a thousand other questions that are as important as they are poorly understood.
Look calmly and without personal interest at human society, and at first it seems to show nothing but the violence of the powerful and the oppression of the weak. We recoil from the cruelty of some or feel driven to pity the blindness of others. Among human beings, nothing is less stable than these outward relations, more often produced by chance than by wisdom, that we call weakness and power, wealth and poverty. So at first sight, human institutions seem built on piles of shifting sand. Only when we examine them closely, brushing aside the dust and sand around the building, do we see the firm foundation on which it stands and learn to respect its base. Without a serious study of human beings, their natural abilities, and the ways these abilities developed step by step, we will never manage to make these distinctions or to separate what divine will has made from what human skill has tried to make in the present state of things. So the political and moral inquiries raised by the important question I am examining are useful in every way. A hypothetical history of governments offers lessons for human beings on every side. By considering what we would have become if left to ourselves, we should learn to praise the one whose generous hand corrected our institutions and gave them a firm foundation. He prevented the disorders they would otherwise have caused and brought about our happiness through the very means that seemed bound to deepen our misery.
What God commanded you to be,
And what place you occupy in the human world,
Learn.
Pers. sat. III, v. 71.