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LECTURES ON THE PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL OBLIGATION
ОглавлениеA. The grounds of political obligation.
1. Subject of the inquiry
2. Its connection with the general theory of morals. Ideal goodness is to do good for its own sake: but there must be acts considered good on other grounds before they can be done for the sake of their goodness
3. When, however, the ideal comes to be recognised as the ideal, the lower interests and rules must be criticised and revised by it
4. The criticism of interests will yield a 'theory of moral sentiments'; that of rules will relate (1) to positive law, (2) to the law of opinion
5. As moral interests greatly depend on recognised rules of conduct, and those again on positive law, it is best to begin by considering the moral value of existing civil institutions
6. The condition of morality is the possession of will and reason, and it is realised in a personal character in which they are harmonised
7. Civil institutions are valuable so far as they enable will and reason to be exercised, and so far they answer to 'jus naturae'
8. The essential questions as to the 'law of nature' are, (1) Are there rights and obligations other than those actually enforced? (2) If so, what is the criterion of them?
9. While rejecting the theory of a 'state of nature,' we may still use 'natural' of those rights which ought to be, though they actually are not
10. Such 'natural law' is (as admitting enforcement) distinct from, but (as implying a duty to obey it) relative to, the moral law
11. Hence two principles for the criticism of law, (1) only external acts can be matter of obligation proper, (2) the ideal of law must be determined by reference to the moral end which it serves
12. Observe (a) that in confining law to 'external actions,' we mean by 'actions' intentions, without which there is properly no 'action'
13. (b) That by 'external' we mean that law, though it does supply motives to action, looks merely to whether the action is done, not to whether it is done from a particular motive
14. Law then can only enjoin or forbid certain acts; it cannot enjoin or forbid motives
15. And the only acts which it ought to enjoin or forbid are those of which the doing or not doing, from whatever motive, is necessary to the moral end of society
16. The principle of 'natural law,' then, should be to enjoin all acts which further action from the highest motive, and no acts which interfere with such action
17. This principle would condemn much legislation which has tended, e.g., to weaken religion, self-respect, or family feeling
18. This, and not the principle of 'laissez-faire,' is the true ground of objection to 'paternal government'
19. The theory of political obligation (i.e. of what law ought to be, and why it ought to be obeyed) is not a theory (a) as to how existing law has come to be what it is
20. Nor (b) as to how far it expresses or is derived from certain original 'natural' rights
21. 'Natural' rights (like law itself) are relative to moral ends, i.e. they are those which are necessary to the fulfilment of man's moral vocation as man
22. This however is not the sense in which political obligation was based on 'natural rights' in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, previously to utilitarianism
23. The utilitarian theory so far agrees with that here advocated that it grounds existing law, not on a 'natural' law prior to it, but on an end which it serves
24. The derivation of actual rights from natural (i.e. more primitive) rights does not touch the real question, viz. how there came to be rights at all
25. The conception of a moral ideal (however dim) is the condition of the existence of rights, and conversely anyone who is capable of such a conception is capable of rights
26. Thus the consciousness of having rights is co-ordinate with the recognition of others as having them, the ground of both being the conception of a common good which ought to be attained
27. Rights then can only subsist among 'persons,' in the moral sense of 'persons,' i.e. being possessed of rational will
28. Though the moral idea of personality is later in formulation than the legal, and this again than the actual existence of rights
29. Rights which are directly necessary to a man's acting as a moral person at all may be called in a special sense 'personal'
30. Nor is there any objection to calling them 'innate' or 'natural,' if this means 'necessary to the moral development of man' in which sense 'duties' are equally 'natural'
31. Without a society conscious of a common interest there can be only 'powers,' no 'rights'.
B. Spinoza.
32. Spinoza, seeing that 'jus naturae' = 'potentia,' and not seeing that it is not really 'jus' at all, identifies all 'jus' with 'potentia,' both in the state and in the individual
33. From which it follows that the 'right' of the state against its individual members is only limited by its 'power'
34. And the same principle applies to the relations of one state to other states
35. But, according to Spinoza, though everything is 'lawful' for the state, everything is not 'best,' and the 'best' state is that which secures a life of 'peace,' i.e. rational virtue or perfection
36. This conclusion does not seem consistent with his starting-point, according to which men are 'naturally enemies'
37. From such a 'status naturalis' there is no possible transition to the 'status civilis,' and the phrase 'jus naturae' remains unmeaning
38. Spinoza's error of regarding 'rights' as possible apart from society was confirmed by his denial of final causes
39. It was just because Plato and Aristotle regarded man as finding his end in the end of the state, that they founded a true theory of rights
40. Spinoza, however, while insisting that man is 'part of nature,' yet places his 'good' in understanding nature and so acquiring a new character
41. In thus recognising the idea of perfection as a determinant of life, he really recognises an operative final cause, though without seeing its bearing on the theory of right.
C. Hobbes.
42. Hobbes differs from Spinoza in regarding the right of the sovereign, not as limited by his power, but as absolute
43. Statement of his doctrine
44. He uses 'person,' as in Roman law, for either (1) a complex of rights, or (2) the subject of those rights
45. Though by his theory the sovereign may be one or many, and sovereignty is transferable by the act of a majority, he tacitly vindicates the absolute right of a de facto monarchy
46. The radical fiction in his theory is that there can be any 'right' after the institution of sovereignty, if (as he holds) there is none before it
47. To justify his doctrine of absolute submission he has to assume a 'law of nature' which binds men to keep covenant, while yet he holds the 'law of nature' to be mere 'power' and covenants to be only valid under an imperium,
48. His 'contract' can confer none but natural right, and that is either not a right at all, or (if it is) it belongs to all men, subject and sovereign alike
49. The real flaw in the theory of contract is not that it is unhistorical, but that it implies the possibility of rights and obligations independently of society
50. Though it has not been popularly accepted as regards the rights of sovereigns over subjects, the behaviour of individuals to society is to a groat extent practically determined by it.
D. Locke.
51. The development of this latter side of it is peculiarly due to Rousseau, but Locke, Hooker, and Grotius have essentially the same conception: Spinoza alone differs
52. Ambiguity of their phrase 'state of nature.' They agree in treating it as the negation of the 'political state.' But if so, contract would be impossible in it
53. Nor could it be a state of 'freedom and equality,' as most of them assume it to be
54. And if this state of nature implies consciousness of obligation, it must imply recognition of social claims, and must therefore be virtually a political state
55. In fact the theory of a state of nature governed by a law of nature, as preceding civil society, must be untrue either to the conception of law or to that of nature
56. Locke differs from Hobbes (1) in distinguishing the 'state of nature' from the 'state of war'
57. He implies (more consistently than Hobbes) that the 'state of nature' is one in which the 'law of nature' is observed
58. (2) He limits the supreme power in the state by the legislature, which holds its functions in trust from the community
59. And this distinction between the supreme community and the supreme executive enables him to distinguish between dissolution of the political society and dissolution of the government, which Hobbes had confused
60. He invests the community with the right of resuming the powers which they have delegated, and thus justifies revolution when it is the act of the whole community
61. The difficulty is to determine when it is the act of the whole community, and on this Locke's theory gives no help
62. The difficulty indeed is not so great as that of conceiving the act of original devolution of power, and is inherent in the theory of contract
63. In the particular case of the reform of the English representative system, Locke does not contemplate the carrying out of his own theory.
E. Rousseau.
64. Rousseau conceives the community to be in continual exercise of the power which Locke conceives it to have exercised once and to hold in reserve
65. In his view of the motive for passing from the state of nature into the civil state he is more like Spinoza than Locke
66. His statement of the origin and nature of the 'social contract'
67. Its effects upon the individual
68. His idea of the sovereign is really that of a supreme disinterested reason, but he fuses this with the ordinary idea of a supreme coercive power
69. The practical result of his theory has been a vague exaltation of the will of the people, regardless of what 'the people' ought to mean
70. Further consequences of his ideal conception of sovereignty. It cannot be alienated, represented, or divided
71. Thus the 'government' is never the same as the 'sovereign,' and constitutions differ according to where the government, not the sovereignty, resides
72. The institution of government is not by contract, but by the act of the sovereign, and this act must be confirmed or repealed periodically
73. His distinction between the 'will of all' and the 'general will': the latter always wills the common good, though it may be mistaken as to means
74. He admits however that it may be overpowered by particular interests, and so find no expression even in the vote of a general assembly
75. What then is the test of the 'general' will? Absolute unanimity is what Rousseau requires of the parties to the original contract
76. But what is to decide whether their successors are parties to it? Not 'residence,' unless there is also freedom to migrate
77. The element of permanent value in Rousseau is his conception of the state as representing the 'general will'
78. Difficulties in this conception. It seems that either no actual state realises it, or that there may be a state without a true sovereign
79. We may distinguish between de facto and de jure sovereignty, and say that Rousseau meant the latter; but this is only an inference from what he says.
F. Sovereignty and the general will.
80. Hence it may be asked, (1) Is any actual sovereignty founded on the 'general will'? (2) Can sovereignty de jure be truly said to be founded on it? (3) If so, must it be expressed through the vote of a sovereign people?
81. (1) According to (e.g.) Austin's definition of sovereignty, we should answer this question in the negative
82. (Observe that from Austin's definition it would follow that, while every 'law' implies a 'sovereign,' a 'sovereign's' commands need not be 'laws')
83. That definition directly contradicts that of Rousseau, in (a) placing sovereignty in determinate persons, (b) making its essence lie in power to compel obedience
84. Actual sovereignty combines both definitions; the habitual obedience of subjects to the sovereign is due to the sense that by obeying they secure certain ends
85. So far as Austin means that a fully developed state implies a determinate supreme source of law, he is right as against Rousseau
86. But if sovereign power = the aggregate influences which really make the people obedient, it must be sought in the 'general will'
87. Such power need not be 'sovereign' in the narrower sense, and may coexist with a separate coercive power which is 'sovereign'
88. This has been the case in ancient despotisms, and in the modern empires of the East
89. So in states under foreign dominion, which retain a national life, the technical sovereign is not the law-making and law-maintaining power
90. Under the Roman Empire, in British India, in Russia, where the technical is also the real sovereign, its strength rests in different degrees on the general will
91. Thus the answer to question (1) depends on the sense of 'sovereign.' If it = a power which guarantees equal rights, it is implied in every 'political' society
92. But (a) it need not be the supreme coercive power, and (b) if it is so, it is not because it is so that it commands habitual obedience
93. Thus (retaining the technical use of 'sovereign') it is true that if the sovereign is to be so really, it must express and maintain a general will
94. Though this is compatible with the fact that some of the laws of the sovereign conflict with the general will
95. Thus as to question (2) (above, sec. 80), if sovereignty is said to rest on the general will 'de jure,' either 'sovereign' or 'jus' is not used in the strict sense
96. An antithesis between sovereign 'de jure' and 'de facto' can only arise from a confusion between 'sovereign' as = the source of law and 'sovereign' as = the 'general will'
97. Though there are cases in which (in a different sense) a sovereign may be conveniently described as 'de facto,' not 'de jure,' or vice versa
98. Similarly, to say that the people is 'sovereign de jure' is to confuse the general will with the coercive power of the majority
99. Rousseau's confusion is due to the theory of 'natural rights' (that the individual is not bound by anything which he has not individually approved)
100. The individual must indeed judge for himself whether a law is for the common good; but though he judge it not to be, he ought as a rule to obey it
101. Cases in which a doubt may arise
102. (a) Where the legal authority of the law is doubtful, owing to the doubt where the sovereignty in the state resides
103. In such cases the truth generally is that the 'right,' on the particular issue, has not yet formed itself
104. But it does not follow that because the 'right' is on both sides, one is not 'better' than the other; though this may be the case
105. In such cases of disputed sovereignty the distinction of 'de jure' and 'de facto' may be applied, though it is better to say that the sovereignty is in abeyance
106. The individual, having no 'right' to guide him, should take the side whose success seems likely to be best for mankind
107. (b) Another case is where there is no legal way of getting a bad law repealed. Here it is a question, not of right, but of duty, to resist the sovereign
108. Nor is it a question of the right of a majority, as a majority, to resist: it may be the duty of a helpless minority
109. Some general questions which the good citizen may put to himself in such dilemmas
110. They can, indeed, seldom be applied by the agents at the time as they can be after the event
111. In simple cases we may judge of the right or wrong of an act by the character which it expresses, but generally we can only judge them by its results
112. All that the historian can say is that on the whole the best character is likely to produce the best results, notwithstanding various appearances to the contrary.
G. Will, not force, is the basis of the state.
113. The doctrines which explain political obligation by contract agree in treating sovereign and subject apart, whereas they are correlative
114. For the desire for freedom in the individual is no real desire unless he is one of a society which recognises it. (Slaves are not a real exception to this)
115. And without an authority embodied in civil institutions he would not have the elementary idea of right which enables him to question the authority
116. But the theory of contract expresses, in a confused way, the truth that only through the common recognition of a common good, and its embodiment in institutions, is morality possible
117. Thus morality and political subjection have a common source.
118. And both imply the twofold conception, (a) 'I must though I do not like,' (b) 'I must because it is for the common good which is also my good'
119. It is a farther and difficult question, how far the sense of common interest can be kept alive either in the government or subjects, unless the people participates directly in legislation
120. And this suggests the objection, Is it not trifling with words to speak of political subjection in modern states as based on the will of the subjects?
121. We must admit (a) that the idea of the state as serving a common interest is only partially realised, even by the most enlightened subject, though so far as realised it is what makes him a loyal subject
122. (b) That if he is to be an intelligent patriot as well as a loyal subject, he must take a personal part in the work of the state
123. And (c) that even then his patriotism will not be a passion unless it includes a feeling for the state analogous to that which he has for his family and home
124. But are we not again assuming what was disputed, viz. that a sense of its serving a common interest is necessary to the existence of the state?
125. Observe that the idea of an end or function, realised by agencies unconscious of it and into which it cannot be resolved, is already implicit even if the state be treated as a 'natural organism'
126. Such a treatment, however, would ignore the distinction between the 'natural' and the 'human' or 'moral' agencies which have operated in the production of states
127. It may be objected that these 'human' agencies are not necessarily 'moral,' but on the contrary are often selfish
128. But though human motives are never unalloyed, they only produce good results so far as they are fused with and guided by some unselfish element
129. If e.g. we would form a complete estimate of Napoleon, we must consider not only his ambition but the particular form in which his ambition worked
130. And further reflect that the idiosyncrasy of such men plays but a small part in the result, which is mainly due to agencies of which they are only the most conspicuous instruments
131. Thus an ideal motive may co-operate with the motives of selfish men, and only through such co-operation are they instrumental for good
132. The fact that the state implies a supreme coercive power gives colour to the view that it is based on coercion; whereas the coercive power is only supreme because it is exercised in a state, i.e. according to some system of law, written or customary
133. In the absence of any other name, 'state' is the best for a society in which there is such a system of law and a power to enforce it
134. A state, then, is not an aggregate of individuals under a sovereign, but a society in which the rights of men already associated in families and tribes are defined and harmonised
135. It developes as the absorption of fresh societies or the extended intercourse between its members widens the range of common interests and rights
136. The point to be insisted on is that force has only formed states so far as it has operated in and through a pre-existing medium of political, tribal, or family 'rights'.
H. Has the citizen rights against the state?
137. As long as power of compulsion is made the essence of the state, political obligation cannot be explained either by the theory of 'consent,' or by that which derives all right from the sovereign
138. The state presupposes rights, rights which may be said to belong to the 'individual' if this mean 'one of a society of individuals'
139. A right may be analysed into a claim of the individual upon society and a power conceded to him by society, but really the claim and the concession are sides of one and the same common consciousness
140. Such common consciousness of interests is the ground of the 'natural right' of slaves and of the members of other states
141. But though in this way there may be rights outside the state, the members of a state derive the rights which they have as members of other associations from the state, and have no rights against it
142. i.e. as they derive their rights from their membership in the state, they have no right to disobey the law unless it be for the interest of the state
143. And even then only if the law violates some interest which is implicitly acknowledged by the conscience of the community
144. It is a farther question when the attempt to get a law repealed should be exchanged for active resistance to it
145. e.g. should a slave be befriended against the law? The slave has as a man certain rights which the state cannot extinguish, and by denying which it forfeits its claim upon him
146. And it may be held that the claim of the slave upon the citizen, as a man, overrides the claim of the state upon him, as a citizen
147. Even here, however, the law ought to be obeyed, supposing that its violation tended to bring about general anarchy.
I. Private rights. The right to life and liberty.
148. There are rights which men have as members of associations, which come to be comprised in the state, but which also exist independently of it
149. These are 'private' rights, divided by Stephen into (a) personal, (b) rights of property, (c) rights in private relations
150. All rights are 'personal'; but as a man's body is the condition of his exercising rights at all, the rights of it may be called 'personal' in a special sense
151. The right of 'life and liberty' (better, of 'free life'), being based on capacity for society, belongs in principle to man as man, though this is only gradually recognised
152. At first it belongs to man as against other members of his family or tribe, then as against other tribes, then as against other citizens, which in antiquity still implies great limitations
153. Influences which have helped to break down these limitations are (a) Roman equity, (b) Stoicism, (c) the Christian idea of a universal brotherhood
154. This last is the logical complement of the idea that man as such has a right to life; but the right is only negatively recognised in modern Christendom
155. It is ignored e.g. in war, nor is much done to enable men to fulfil their capacities as members of humanity
156. Four questions as to the relation of the state to the right of man as man to free life.
K. The right of the state over the individual in war.
157. (1) Has the state a right to override this right in war? It must be admitted that war is not 'murder,' either on the part of those who fight or of those who cause the war
158. Yet it may be a violation of the right of life. It does not prove it not to be so, that (a) those who kill do not intend to kill anyone in particular
159. Or that (b) those who are killed have incurred the risk voluntarily. Even if they have, it does not follow that they had a 'right' to do so
160. It may be said that the right to physical life may be overridden by a right arising from the exigencies of moral life
161. But this only shifts the blame of war to those who are responsible for those exigencies; it remains a wrong all the same
162. But in truth most wars of the last 400 years have not been wars for political liberty, but have arisen from dynastic ambition or national vanity
163. Admitting, then, that virtue may be called out by war and that it may be a factor in human progress, the destruction of life in it is always a wrong
164. 'But if it be admitted that war may do good, may not those who originate it have the credit of this?'
165. If they really acted from desire to do good, their share in the wrong is less; but in any case the fact that war was the only means to the good was due to human agency and was a wrong
166. (2) (See sec. 157). Hence it follows that the state, so far as it is true to its principle, cannot have to infringe the rights of men as men by conflicts with other states
167. It is not because states exist, but because they do not fulfil their functions as states in maintaining and harmonising general rights, that such conflicts are necessary
168. This is equally true of conflicts arising from what are called 'religious' grounds
169. Thus no state, as such, is absolutely justified in doing a wrong to mankind, though a particular state may be conditionally justified
170. It may be objected that such a 'cosmopolitan' view ignores the individuality of states, and could only be realised if they wore all absorbed in a universal empire
171. It is true that public spirit, to be real, must be national; but the more a nation becomes a true state, the more does it find outlets for its national spirit other than conflicts with other nations
172. In fact the identification of patriotism with military aggressiveness is a survival from a time when states in the full sense did not exist
173. And our great standing armies are due, not to the development of a system of states, but to circumstances which witness to the shortcomings of that system
174. The better the organisation of each state, the greater is the freedom of communication with others, especially in trade, which, beginning in self-interest, may lead to the consciousness of a higher bond
175. As compared with individuals, any bonds between nations must be weak; on the other hand, governments have less temptation than individuals to deal unfairly with one another.
L. The right of the state to punish.
176. (3) (See sec. 156). What right has the state to punish? The right to live in a community rests on the capacity to act for the common good, and implies the right to protect such action from interference
177. A detailed theory of punishment implies a detailed theory of rights. Here we can only deal with principles
178. Is punishment retributive? Not in the sense that it carries on a supposed 'right' of private vengeance, for no such 'right' can exist
179. The most rudimentary 'right' of vengeance implies social recognition and regulation, in early times by the family
180. And its development up to the stage at which the state alone punishes is the development of a principle implied from the first
181. But if punishment excludes private vengeance, how can it be retributory at all? And how can a wrong to society be requited?
182. When a wrong is said to be 'done to society,' it does not mean that a feeling of vindictiveness is excited in the society
183. The popular indignation against a great criminal is an expression, not of individual desire for vengeance, but of the demand that the criminal should have his due
184. And this does not mean an equivalent amount of suffering; nor such suffering as has been found by experience to deter men from the crime
185. Punishment, to be just, implies (a) that the person punished can understand what right means, and (b) that it is some understood right that he has violated
186. He will then recognise that the punishment is his own act returning on himself; (it is in a different sense that the physical consequences of immorality are spoken of as a 'punishment')
187. Punishment may be said to be_ preventive_, if it be remembered (a) that what it 'prevents' must be the violation of a real right, and (b) that the means by which it 'prevents' must be really necessary
188. Does our criterion of the justice of punishment give any practical help in apportioning it?
189. The justice of punishment depends on the justice of the system of rights which it is to maintain
190. The idea that 'just' punishment is that which = the crime in amount confuses retribution for the wrong to society with compensation for damages to the individual
191. 'But why not hold that the pain of the punishment ought to = the moral guilt of the crime?'
192. Because the state cannot gauge either the one or the other; and if it could, it would have to punish every case differently
193. In truth the state has regard in punishing, not primarily to the individuals concerned, but to the future prevention of the crime by associating terror with it in the general imagination
194. The account taken of 'extenuating circumstances' may be similarly explained; i.e. the act done under them requires little terror to prevent it from becoming general
195 'But why avoid the simpler explanation, that extenuating circumstances are held to diminish the moral guilt of the act?'
196. Because (a) the state cannot ascertain the degree of moral guilt involved in a crime; (b) if it tries to punish immorality (proper), it will check disinterested moral effort
197. Punishment, however, may be truly held to express the 'moral disapprobation' of society, but it is to the external side of action that the disapprobation is directed
198. The principle that punishment should be regulated by the importance of the right violated explains the severity with which 'culpable negligence is punished
199. And the punishment of crimes done in drunkenness illustrates the same principle
200. It also justifies the distinction between 'criminal' and 'civil' injuries, (which is not a distinction between injuries to individuals and to the community, for no 'right' is violated by injury done to an individual as such)
201. There would be no reason in associating terror with breaches of a right which the offender either did not know that he was breaking or which he could not help breaking
202. When such ignorance and inability are culpable, it depends on the seriousness of the wrong or the degree to which the civil suit involves deterrent effects, whether they should be treated as crimes
203. Historically, the state has interfered first through the civil process; gradually, as public alarm gets excited, more and more offences come to be treated as crimes
204. Punishment must also be reformatory (this being one way of being preventive), i.e. it must regard the rights of the criminal
205. Capital punishment is justifiable only (a) if it can be shown to be necessary to the maintenance of society, (b) if there is reason to suppose the criminal to be permanently incapable of rights
206. Punishment, though directly it aims at the maintenance of rights, has indirectly a moral end, because rights are conditions of moral well-being.
M. The right of the state to promote morality.
207. (4) (See sec. 156). The right of free life is coming to be more and more recognised amongst us negatively; is it reasonable to do so little positively to make its exercise possible?
208. First observe that the capacity for free life is a moral capacity, i.e. a capacity for being influenced by a sense of common interest
209. This influence will only be weakened by substituting for it that of law, but the state can do more than it usually does without deadening spontaneous action; e.g. 'compulsory education' need not be 'compulsory' except to those who have no spontaneity to be deadened
210. So too with interference with 'freedom of contract'; we must consider not only those who are interfered with, but those whose freedom is increased by the interference.
N. The right of the state in regard to property.
211. As to property two questions have to be kept distinct, (a) how there has come to be property, (b) how there has come to be a right of property. Each of those again may be treated either historically or metaphysically
212. The confusion of those questions and methods has given rise either to truisms or to irrelevant researches as to the nature of property
213. Property implies (a) appropriation, i.e. an act of will, of a permanent self demanding satisfaction and expression
214. (b) Recognition of the appropriation by others. This recognition cannot be derived from contract (Grotius), or from a supreme force (Hobbes)
215. Locke rightly bases the right of property on the same ground as the right to one's own person; but he does not ask what that ground is
216. The ground is the same as that of the right of life, of which property is the instrument, viz. the consciousness of a common interest to which each man recognises every other man as contributing
217. Thus the act of appropriation and the recognition of it constitute one act of will, as that in which man seeks a good at once common and personal
218. The condition of the family or clan, in which e.g. land is held in common, is not the negation, but on the contrary the earliest expression of the right of property
219. Its defect lies (a) in the limited scope for free moral development which it allows the associates, (b) in the limited range of moral relations into which it brings them
220. But the expansion of the clan into the state has not brought with it a corresponding emancipation of the individual. Is then the existence of a practically propertyless class in modern states a necessity, or an abuse?
221. In theory, everyone who is capable of living for a common good (whether he actually does so or not) ought to have the means for so doing: these means are property
222. But does not this theory of property imply freedom of appropriation and disposition, and yet is it not just this freedom which leads to the existence of a propertyless proletariate?
223. Property, whether regarded as the appropriation of nature by men of different powers, or as the means required for the fulfilment of different social functions, must be unequal
224. Freedom of trade, another source of inequality, follows necessarily from the same view of property: freedom of bequest is more open to doubt
225. It seems to follow from the general right of a man to provide for his future, and (with certain exceptions) to be likely to secure the best distribution; but it does not imply the right of entail
226. Returning to the question raised in sec. 220, observe (a) that accumulation by one man does not itself naturally imply deprivation of other men, but rather the contrary
227. Nor is the prevalence of great capitals and hired labour in itself the cause of the bad condition of so many of the working classes
228. The cause is to be found, not in the right of property and accumulation, but (partly at least) in the fact that the land has been originally appropriated by conquest
229. Hence (a) the present proletariate inherit the traditions of serfdom, and (b) under landowning governments land has been appropriated unjustifiably, i.e. in various ways prejudicial to the common interest
230. And further the masses crowded through these causes into large towns have till lately had little done to improve their condition
231. Whether, if the state did its duty, it would still be advisable to limit bequest of land, is a question which must be differently answered according to circumstances
232. The objection to the appropriation by the state of 'unearned increment' is that it is so hard to distinguish between 'earned' and 'unearned'.
O. The right of the state in regard to the family.
233. The rights of husband over wife and father over children are (a) like that of property in being rights against all the world, (b) unlike it in being rights over persons, and therefore reciprocal
234. The latter characteristic would be expressed by German writers by saying that both the 'subject' and the 'object' of these rights are persons
235. Three questions about them: (1) What makes man capable of family life? (2) How does it come to have rights? (3) What ought the form of those rights to be?
236. (1) The family implies the same effort after permanent self-satisfaction as property, together with a permanent interest in a particular woman and her children
237. The capacity for this interest is essential to anything which can be rightly called family life, whatever lower forms of life may historically have preceded it
238. (2) The rights of family life arise from the mutual recognition of this interest by members of the same clan (in which the historical family always appears as an element)
239. Its development has been in the direction (a) of giving all men and women the right to marry, (b) of recognising the claims of husband and wife to be reciprocal. Both these imply monogamy
240. Polygamy excludes many men from marriage and makes the wife practically not a wife, while it also prevents real reciprocity of rights both between husband and wife and between parents and children
241. The abolition of slavery is another essential to the development of the true family life, in both the above respects
242. (3) Thus the right (as distinct from the morality) of family life requires (a) monogamy, (b) duration through life, (c) terminability on the infidelity of husband or wife
243. Why then should not adultery be treated as a crime? Because (unlike other violations of right) it is generally in the public interest that it should be condoned if the injured person is willing to condone it
244. Nor would the higher purposes of marriage be served by making infidelity penal, for they depend on disposition, not on outward acts or forbearances
245. All that the state can do, therefore, is to make divorce for adultery easy, and to make marriage as serious a matter as possible
246. (b) Should divorce be allowed except for adultery? Sometimes for lunacy or cruelty, but not for incompatibility, the object of the state being to make marriage a 'consortium omnis vitae'.
P. Rights and virtues.
247. Outline of remaining lectures, on (1) rights connected with the functions of government, (2) social virtues. (The antithesis of 'social' and 'self-regarding' is false)
248. Virtues, being dispositions to exercise rights, are best co-ordinated with rights. Thus to the right of life correspond those virtues which maintain life against nature, force, and animal passion
249. Similarly there are active virtues, corresponding to the negative obligations imposed by property and marriage
250. 'Moral sentiments' should be classified with the virtues, of which they are weaker forms
251. Although for clearness obligations must be treated apart from moral duties, they are really the outer and inner side of one spiritual development, in the joint result of which the idea of perfection is fulfilled.
Supplement.
Some Quotations rendered into English.