Liberty, Chapter III, 3

The nineteenth law, that no contract may be made with the judge.

24 From the definition of an arbiter given above, we may further understand that no contract or promise may pass between him and the parties whose judge he has been appointed if it might bind him to speak in favor of either party. Indeed, he may not even be bound by contract to judge equitably, or to pronounce the decision he truly believes to be fair. The judge is already bound to deliver the decision he believes fair by the law of nature set out in the 15th article; no compact can add anything to that law's obligation. Such a compact would therefore be in vain. Besides, if he gave a wrong judgment and then defended it as fair, the dispute would persist after judgment unless the compact had no force. But this would contradict the institution of an arbiter, chosen on the condition that both parties have bound themselves to abide by the decision he pronounces. The law of nature therefore commands that the judge remain free of such obligations: this is its nineteenth precept.

The twentieth law, against gluttony and things that hinder the use of reason.

25 Furthermore, since the laws of nature are nothing but the dictates of reason, a person who does not endeavor to preserve his capacity for sound reasoning cannot observe them. It is plain, then, that anyone who knowingly or willingly does something that destroys or weakens his rational capacity knowingly and willingly breaks the law of nature. For there is no difference between a person who fails to do his duty and one who willingly makes himself unable to do it. Those who do what disturbs the mind from its natural state destroy and weaken the faculty of reasoning, as is most evident in drunkards and gluttons. Thus, in the twentieth place, drunkenness is a sin against the law of nature.

A rule for knowing at once whether an intended act is against the law of nature.

26 Perhaps someone who sees all these precepts of nature derived by a certain method from the single dictate of reason counseling us to safeguard and preserve ourselves will say that their deduction is so difficult that ordinary people cannot be expected to know them, and therefore they cannot be binding. For laws that are unknown do not bind; indeed, they are not laws. I answer that hope, fear, anger, ambition, greed, vainglory, and other disturbances of mind do indeed prevent a person from knowing these laws while those passions prevail. Yet everyone has moments when the mind is at peace. At such a time, nothing is easier to grasp, however uneducated or unschooled one may be, than this single rule: when in doubt whether what one is now doing to another is permitted by the law of nature, imagine oneself in the other's place. At once the passions that urged the deed, now cast into the other scale, urge against it just as strongly. This rule is not only easy but long celebrated in the words quod tibi fieri non vis, alteri ne feceris: do not do to others what you would not have done to yourself.

CHAPTER IV. THAT THE LAW OF NATURE IS A DIVINE LAW.

The laws of nature bind only in the court of conscience.

27 Most people, driven by their perverse desire for immediate gain, are ill-disposed to observe these laws, even when they recognize them. If some, more humble than the rest, practiced the equity and willingness to be useful that reason dictates while others did not, they would surely not be following reason: they would obtain not peace but swifter and more certain destruction, becoming mere prey for those who broke the law. We must not imagine, then, that nature—that is, reason—obliges men to practice all these laws when others do not practice them. Yet we are bound meanwhile to be ready in mind to observe them whenever their observance seems conducive to the end for which they were ordained. We must conclude that the law of nature binds always and everywhere in the internal court, the court of conscience, but does not always bind in the external court: it binds there only when it can be observed safely.

The laws of nature are sometimes broken by an act in agreement with them.

28 Laws that bind the conscience can be broken by an act not only contrary to them but also in agreement with them, if the person acting believes otherwise. For although the act itself accords with the laws, his conscience is opposed to them.

The laws of nature are immutable and eternal.

29 The laws of nature are immutable and eternal: what they forbid can never be lawful, and what they command can never be unlawful. Pride, ingratitude, breach of contract (or injury), inhumanity, and insult will never be lawful, nor their opposite virtues unlawful, insofar as we take them as dispositions of the mind—that is, as considered in the court of conscience, where alone they bind and are laws. Yet circumstances and civil law may vary actions so much that what is done equitably at one time is iniquitous at another, and what accords with reason at one time is contrary to it at another. Reason itself, however, remains the same. It does not change its end, peace and defense, or the means to attain them: the virtues of mind described above, which no custom or law can abolish.

Whoever endeavors to fulfill the laws of nature is just.

30 What has been said makes clear how easy it is to observe the laws of nature: they require only the endeavor, though it must be genuine and constant. Whoever makes that endeavor may rightly be called just. For a person who strives with all his strength to bring his actions into accord with the precepts of nature plainly shows that he intends to fulfill all those laws; that is all our rational nature obliges us to do. And a person who has done all that he is obliged to do is just.

Natural law is the same as moral law.

31 All writers agree that natural law and moral law are the same. Let us consider why. We must understand that good and evil are names people give to things to signify their own attraction to or aversion from them. But men's inclinations vary with their constitutions, customs, and opinions, as we can see in things perceived by taste, touch, and smell, and still more in matters concerning the ordinary conduct of life. What one person praises and calls good, another disparages as evil; often the very same person praises a thing at one time and condemns it at another. So long as they do this, discord and conflict must arise. They remain in a state of war so long as they measure good and evil by different standards, according to their differing present appetites. Everyone readily admits that this state, while he is in it, is evil, and consequently that peace is good. Thus those who could not agree on a present good agree on a future one. This agreement is the work of reason: present things are apparent to the senses, but future things to reason alone. Once reason declares peace good, it follows by the same reasoning that every necessary means to peace is also good. Modesty, equity, trust, humanity, and mercy, which we have shown to be necessary for peace, are therefore good manners or habits—that is, virtues. In commanding the means to peace, the law thus also commands good manners, or the practice of virtue, and is therefore called moral.

Why what has been said about law differs from what philosophers have taught about the virtues.

32 But men cannot lay aside the irrational appetite that makes them greedily prefer an immediate good, to which many unforeseen evils necessarily attach, over a future good. As a result, although all men agree in praising the virtues named above, they still disagree about their nature, or what each consists in. Whenever someone dislikes another's good action, he gives it the name of some neighboring vice; and whenever a bad action pleases him, he assigns it the name of some virtue. Thus the same action is praised by some as virtue and condemned by others as vice. Philosophers have yet to find a remedy for this. Unable to see that the goodness of actions consists in their tendency toward peace and their evil in their tendency toward discord, they built a moral philosophy wholly estranged from moral law and inconsistent with itself. They locate virtue in a kind of middle ground between two extremes and vice in the extremes themselves, which is plainly false. Daring is praised as fortitude and considered a virtue, though it is an extreme, if its cause is approved. Nor does the amount given, large, small, or in between, make a gift generous; its cause does. Nor is it unjust for me to give anyone more of my own property than I owe him. The laws of nature, then, are the sum of moral philosophy. Here I have set out only those precepts that concern our preservation from the dangers arising from discord. But rational nature has other precepts from which other virtues spring. Temperance is also a precept of reason, because intemperance tends toward sickness and death. So is fortitude: the capacity to stand firm against present dangers that are harder to avoid than to overcome, since it is a means to the preservation of the person who resists.

The law of nature is not properly a law except as delivered in Holy Scripture.

33 What we call the laws of nature are merely conclusions reached by reason concerning things to do and things to refrain from doing. A law, properly and precisely speaking, is the speech of one who rightfully commands others to do or refrain from something. Thus, as they proceed from nature, these dictates are not properly called laws. Yet as delivered by God in Holy Scripture, as we shall see in the following chapter, they are most properly called laws. For sacred Scripture is the speech of God, who commands all things by the greatest right.

6 Injury can be done to no man, etc. The word injustice relates to a law; injury relates both to a person and to a law. What is unjust is unjust toward all; but an injury may be done without being done to me or to you, instead being done to someone else. Sometimes it is done against no private person, but against the magistrate alone; sometimes against neither magistrate nor private person, but against God alone. For by contract and transfer of right, we say that an injury is done against this or that person. Hence, in every form of government, agreements private individuals make with one another by word or writing may be released at the will of the person to whom the obligation is owed. But offenses against the laws of the land, such as theft and homicide, are punished not as the person harmed wishes, but as the magistrate wills—that is, according to the established laws.

7 The practice of all these laws. Indeed, among these laws are some whose omission, if done for peace or self-preservation, seems to fulfill natural law rather than break it. Whoever does everything against those who do everything, and plunders plunderers, acts equitably. Conversely, to do in wartime what would be honorable in peace and befitting an honest person is abject weakness and a betrayal of oneself. Yet some natural laws never cease to be practiced, even in war. I cannot see how drunkenness or cruelty—that is, revenge without regard for future good—could advance peace or anyone's preservation. In short, in the state of nature justice and injustice must be judged not from actions but from the counsel and conscience of the person acting. What is done out of necessity, in an endeavor for peace or for our own preservation, is done with right; otherwise every harm done to someone would be a breach of natural law and an injury against God.

The nineteenth law: no contract may be made with the judge.

24 The definition of an arbitrator given above also shows that the judge and the parties who appoint him must make no contract or promise that would bind him to speak in favor of either side. They must not even make one binding him to judge fairly, or to give the decision he truly believes is fair. The law of nature stated in the 15th article already binds the judge to give the decision he thinks fair. A contract cannot add anything to the obligation imposed by that law. Such a contract would therefore be pointless. Besides, suppose he gave a wrong decision and claimed it was fair. Unless the contract had no force, the dispute would continue after his decision. That would defeat the purpose of an arbitrator, whom both parties choose after binding themselves to accept whatever decision he gives. Natural law therefore commands that the judge have no such obligation to the parties. This is its nineteenth precept.

The twentieth law, against gluttony and other things that interfere with reason.

25 The laws of nature are nothing but the directions of reason. Unless someone tries to preserve his ability to reason correctly, he cannot follow them. It follows that anyone who knowingly or willingly does something that destroys or weakens that ability knowingly and willingly breaks the law of nature. There is no difference between someone who fails to do his duty and someone who willingly makes himself unable to do it. People weaken and destroy their ability to reason when they do things that disturb the mind's normal condition. This most clearly happens with drunkards and gluttons. Drunkenness, then, is the twentieth way in which we sin against the law of nature.

A rule for knowing immediately whether an intended act violates natural law.

26 Someone may see that all these precepts of nature have been derived, through a certain method, from the single direction of reason to protect and preserve ourselves. He may object that deriving these laws is so difficult that ordinary people cannot be expected to know them. In that case they would not be binding: laws that are unknown do not bind anyone and, indeed, are not laws at all. I answer that hope, fear, anger, ambition, greed, empty pride, and other disturbances of mind do prevent people from knowing these laws while such passions control them. But everyone is calm sometimes. At such a time, even the roughest and least educated person can easily know this one rule: if he doubts whether natural law permits what he is doing to another person, he should imagine himself in that person's place. The very feelings that urged him to do the act, when put on the other side of the scales, will immediately urge him not to do it. This rule is not only easy but has long been expressed in these words: quod tibi fieri non vis, alteri ne feceris: do not do to others what you would not want done to yourself.

CHAPTER IV. THAT THE LAW OF NATURE IS A DIVINE LAW.

The laws of nature bind us in conscience, but not always in action.

27 Most people are so driven by their misguided desire for immediate gain that they are unlikely to follow these laws, even when they recognize them. Suppose a few people, humbler than the rest, practiced the fairness and willingness to help that reason requires, while others did not. Those few would not be following reason in doing so. Rather than gaining peace, they would bring themselves to a quicker and more certain destruction. People who kept the law would become easy prey for those who broke it. We should therefore not imagine that nature, or reason, requires people to put all these laws⁷ into practice when others do not practice them. We are still obliged to be ready to follow them whenever doing so seems likely to advance the purpose for which they were established. We must therefore conclude that natural law always and everywhere binds us in the internal court, that of conscience. It does not always bind us in the external court; it does so only when we can follow it safely.

The laws of nature can sometimes be broken by acts that agree with them.

28 A law that binds the conscience can be broken not only through an act contrary to it, but also through an act that agrees with it, if the person doing the act believes it is wrong. Although the act itself conforms to the law, his conscience opposes it.

The laws of nature never change and last forever.

29 The laws of nature never change and last forever. What they forbid can never become lawful, and what they command can never become unlawful. Pride, ingratitude, broken contracts (or injury), inhumanity, and insults will never be lawful. Nor will their opposite virtues ever be unlawful. This is true when we consider them as attitudes of mind, that is, in the court of conscience, where alone they bind us as laws. Yet circumstances and civil law can make actions so different that something done fairly at one time is unfair at another, and something reasonable at one time is unreasonable at another. Reason itself remains the same. Its aim, peace and defense, does not change, nor do the means to that aim: the virtues of mind described above. No custom or law can abolish them.

Anyone who tries to fulfill the laws of nature is just.

30 What I have said shows how easily the laws of nature can be followed. They require only that we try, though our effort must be genuine and constant. Anyone who makes that effort can rightly be called just. Someone who does everything in his power to bring his actions into line with nature's precepts clearly intends to fulfill all those laws. That is all our rational nature requires of us. And a person who has done everything required of him is just.

Natural law and moral law are the same.

31 All writers agree that natural law is the same as moral law. Let us see why. We need to understand that people call things good or evil to express their attraction to or dislike of them. People's inclinations vary with their physical makeup, customs, and opinions. We can see this in matters of taste, touch, and smell. The variation is greater still in the everyday affairs of life. What one person praises and calls good, another looks down on as evil. Indeed, the same person often praises something at one time and criticizes it at another. As long as people do this, conflict and fighting are bound to follow. They remain in a state of war as long as their differing present desires lead them to measure good and evil by different standards. Everyone readily recognizes that this state is bad while living in it, and consequently that peace is good. People who cannot agree about a present good therefore agree about a future good. This is the work of reason: our senses show us what is present, but only reason shows us what is to come. Once reason declares peace good, it follows by the same reasoning that all the means necessary for peace are good too. Modesty, equity, trust, human kindness, and mercy, which we have shown to be necessary for peace, are therefore good habits or dispositions—that is, virtues. By commanding the means to peace, the law also commands good conduct, or the practice of virtue. That is why it is called moral law.

Why this account of law differs from what philosophers have said about the virtues.

32 People cannot rid themselves of the irrational desire that makes them eagerly prefer a present good to a future one, even though many unforeseen evils necessarily follow from that present good. As a result, though everyone agrees in praising the virtues mentioned above, they still disagree about what those virtues are and what each one consists in. Whenever someone dislikes another person's good action, he calls it by the name of a closely related vice. Likewise, whenever he likes a bad action, he gives it the name of a virtue. So some praise the same action as a virtue while others condemn it as a vice. Philosophers have not yet found a remedy for this problem. They failed to see that actions are good insofar as they lead toward peace and bad insofar as they lead toward conflict. They therefore built a moral philosophy completely detached from moral law and inconsistent with itself. They locate each virtue in a certain middle ground between two extremes, and the vices at those extremes. This is plainly false. Daring is praised as the virtue of courage when its cause is approved, even though daring is an extreme. Likewise, whether the amount given is large, small, or somewhere between does not make the act generous. The reason for giving determines that. Nor am I unjust if I give someone more of my own property than I owe him. The laws of nature are therefore the whole of moral philosophy. Here I have given only those precepts that concern protecting ourselves from the dangers of conflict. But rational nature has other precepts, from which other virtues arise. Temperance, for instance, is also a precept of reason, because lack of restraint leads to sickness and death. Courage is one too. It is the ability to resist firmly when facing immediate dangers that are harder to avoid than to overcome, and it helps preserve the person who resists.

The law of nature is not strictly a law except as it is given in Holy Scripture.

33 What we call the laws of nature are conclusions reached by reason about what we should do and avoid. Strictly speaking, a law is a statement made by someone who has the right to command others to do or avoid something. So when these conclusions come from nature, they are not laws in the strict sense. But when God gives them in Holy Scripture, as we will see in the next chapter, they are properly called laws. Holy Scripture is God's speech, and God has the supreme right to command everything.

6 Injury can be done to no one, etc.] The word injustice refers to a law; injury refers both to a person and to a law. Something unjust is unjust toward everyone. But an injury may be done that is not against you or me, but against someone else. Sometimes it is against no private person, but only the magistrate; sometimes it is against neither a private person nor the magistrate, but only God. We say an injury is done to a particular person because of a contract and a transfer of right. This is why, under every kind of government, agreements private people make with one another by speech or in writing can be canceled again if the person to whom the obligation is owed wishes it. But wrongdoing against the laws of the country, such as theft and murder, is punished not as the person harmed wishes, but as the magistrate wishes—that is, according to the established laws.

7 Putting all these laws into practice. No: some of these laws are better fulfilled than broken by not putting them into practice, provided the reason is peace or self-preservation. A person who does anything necessary against people who will do anything to him, and who plunders plunderers, acts fairly. Conversely, doing something that is proper and honorable in peacetime shows a broken and timid spirit, and betrays oneself, in wartime. But some natural laws must still be followed even during war. I cannot see how drunkenness or cruelty—that is, revenge with no thought for future good—can promote peace or preserve anyone. In short, in the state of nature we must judge right and wrong not by a person's actions but by his purpose and conscience. An act done out of necessity, to pursue peace, or to preserve ourselves is done with right. Otherwise every harm done to someone would break natural law and be an injury against God.