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Freedomin The Social
Contract:Rousseau's
"LegitimateChains"*
WilliamT. Bluhm
The Universityof Rochester
I. Introduction
Rousseau's aim ... is not to show how the chains can be abolished
and natural freedom recovered in society, for political society re-
quires constraints and natural freedom consists in the absence of
all such constraints. His aim is rather to show how the necessary
constraints of political society can be legitimate and thereby com-
patible with, if not natural freedom, then an essential human free-
dom nevertheless.3
has prescribed for oneself is freedom." 6 Here, obviously, are the words
which led Osborn and Charvet to modify Rousseau's statement of his
intention in their paraphrases of the book's initial lines. But would
they receive warrant from Rousseau to do so? For in the sentence
immediately subsequent to this passage he tells us that he has "already
said too much about this topic, and the philosophic meaning of the word
freedom is not my subject here." 7 He has already written, at the outset,
that the question he intends to answer in his book concerns "legitimate
chains."
What are we to make of all this? J. McManners, in his inaugural
lecture as Professor of History at the University of Leicester, points
out that in his Confessions "Rousseau tells us how his imagination
loved to work by contraries; to depict spring, he must be in winter, to
describe a rustic scene, he must be indoors, 'if I were put in the Bastille,
I should paint a picture of liberty.' [But] when he wrote The Social Con-
tract, he was not in the Bastille; he was at the freest time of his life.
... Free, living near to nature, he depicted the opposite." 8 McManners
argues that the explanation for the play of contraries in The Social Con-
tract, and for the fact that Rousseau's "'totalitarian passages' are so
grim, and, by contrast, his love of freedom ... so intense" is to be found
"in the context of his passionate, intensely personal revolt against
society." 9 A loner and a rootless person, Rousseau hated the social
order in which he spent his life. He would have been alienated from any
social order.10Hence, social order, as such, constituted "chains." Even
that just social order which will "abolish great evils ... bring true equal-
ity... make every man feel he 'belongs'... give us a new kind of
liberty, through community with our fellows" must be seen as "chains." 11
McManners presents a plausible psychological explanation of the
contradiction we see in Rousseau's formulation of the problem of The
Social Contract, though it tends, like the explanations of Osborn and
Charvet, to do away with the contradiction by making Rousseau view
his system of the "General Will" as offering "a new kind of liberty,"
which is in some sense truly "liberty." It is superior, however, to Char-
vet's resolution of the problem, a resolution that frames the problem
as a paradox which requires that "the good society... both denature
6. Ibid.,p. 56.
7. Ibid.
8. Op. cit., p. 16. See also B. Munteano, Solitude et contradictions de J.-J.
Rousseau (Paris: Nizet, 1975).
9. McManners,op. cit., p. 6.
10. Ibid., pp. 8. 9.
11.Ibid.,pp. 14-15.
WilliamT. Bluhm 363
Nature speaks to all animals, and beasts obey her voice. Man feels
the same impulse, but he at the same time perceives that he is free
to resist or to acquiesce; and it is in the consciousness of this
liberty, that the spirituality of his soul chiefly appears: for natural
philosophy explains, in some measure, the mechanism of the senses
and the formation of ideas; but in the power of willing, or rather
of choosing, and in the consciousness of this power, nothing can
be discovered but acts that are purely spiritual, and cannot be
accounted for by the laws of mechanics.31
This paragraph hangs in the air. It is at odds with the earlier account
of human freedom we have already analysed and also has no sequel.
It can refer only to the subjective sentiment of freedom and cannot be
a cognitive concept. The sequel material-indeed, much of the rest of
the book-is about the results of our perfectibility-our ability to learn.
In thus rejecting freedom as the characteristic human faculty in favor
of perfectibility, Rousseau has accepted the mechanistic necessitarian
model of man expressed by his supposed opponents-the materialists.
As in the paragraph we have analysed, this ability is described as the
source not only of our human good, but also of human ill.
It would be a melancholy necessity for us to be obliged to allow
that this distinctive and almost unlimited faculty is the source of
all man's misfortunes; that it is this faculty, which, though by
slow degrees, draws him out of his original condition, in which his
necessity for adding to them that of sociability, that... flow all the
rules of natural right." 35
In Rousseau's state of nature, man's character is marked by a
thoroughgoing independence; this is the sense in which natural man is
genuinely free. Each man's free agency is fully operative; each is his
own master. For even if someone steals the food I have collected, or
seizes my cave, there is adequate food on another bush, and I can easily
find another shelter. No one can enslave me, stronger though he be, for
he would never be able to sleep, out of need to keep watch. There is
therefore a rough equality in nature, as well as complete independence.
Each man relies on himself alone, and on no other.
For Rousseau, history is the story of the gradual collapse of this
happy Eden of freedom and equality, and the emergence of the un-
happy inequalities of civilized social and political order, as the result
of a series of historical accidents. Rousseau's analysis of the political
problem takes the form of a pseudohistory-the history of a machine
that has from its first operation run out of control.36 The nature of man
to Rousseau was not something given once and for all, but a changing
reality, infinitely malleable, formed by shaping circumstance and by our
faculty of improvement, or perfectibility. If unhappy and unguided
circumstances-the uncontrolled world machine-produced inequality
and unhappiness, we can well imagine that improvement of the human
situation might be found in the construction of new circumstances, in
the remolding of the social environment. The machine might be rebuilt
and put into controllable working order by a skilled social engineer.
Can the great value of the state of nature-individual freedom, de-
fined as independence-be recaptured in society, without sacrificing
all the values which social life has created? In Emile and in The Social
Contract Rousseau attempted an answer to this difficult question. In
Emile, the answer is given from the point of view of the individual
considered as such. In The Social Contract it is given from the view
the good they reject; the public wants the good it does not see.
All are equallyin need of guides.... From this arisesthe necessity
for a legislator.48
Thoughno moralplan is given by natureor by God, people are used
to thinkingof moralityas God-given,not as somethingimposedon the
weak by the strong.Thereforethe lawgivermust appearas a god.
The discoveryof the best rules of society suited to nationswould
require a superior intelligence,who saw all men's passions yet
experiencednone of them; who had no relationshipat all to our
nature yet knew it thoroughly... Gods would be needed to give
laws to men.49
It is the legislator,throughhis work of ideologicalteachingand insti-
tution building, who forms each of us into a new, social man, by giving
us commonvaluesand meanings.
One who dares undertakethe founding of a people should feel
that he is capableof changinghumannature,so to speak;of trans-
formingeach individual,who, by himself, is a perfectand solitary
whole, into a part of a larger whole from which this individual
receivesin a sense his life and his being;of alteringman'sconstitu-
tion in order to strengthenit; of substitutinga partial and moral
existence for the physical and independentexistence we have all
receivedfromnature.50
In effect, Rousseau is saying here that the legislatormust modify our
subjectivefree will, if we are to participatein the generalwill. It is not
simplya matterof cultivatingour naturalcompassionfor others,or that
of arrangingfor equality of propertyand equal political institutions.
Crucialis the creationof a common value system, a common way of
looking at the world, a commonideology of vision and aspiration.And
this can only be done by remakingthe naturalman. We mustbe forced
to be free by redefiningour freedomin terms of the generalwill, and
by compellingour recalcitrantparticularselves-traces of individuality
left over from the state of nature-to conform to the dictates of the
generalwill. The generalwill cannot arise spontaneouslywithin Rous-
seau's metaphysics,as a naturalwill. For in that metaphysicswill, as
such, is wholly individual.It is known "by its action,not by its nature."
It has no nature-no naturallyintelligiblemeaningand purpose-and
48. On the Social Contract,Book II, ch. 6, p. 67.
49. Ibid., Book II, ch. 7, pp. 67-8.
50. Ibid., p. 68.
376 Freedomin The Social Contract
55. In my discussion of the third and fourth "walks" I follow Charles Butter-
worth's interpretiveessay in his recent edition of the Reveries, Jean-JacquesRous-
seau, The Reveries of the Solitary Walker (New York: New York University
Press, 1979). Quotationsare from that edition.
56. Reveries, p. 178.
57. Ibid., p. 181.
58. Ibid., p. 183.
59. Ibid., p. 188.
60. Ibid., p. 184.
WilliamT. Bluhm 379
intense pleasures" that he had known, and finds far preferable to these
fleeting moments "a simple and permanent state which has nothing in-
tense in itself but whose duration increases its charm to the point that
[he] finally find[s] supreme felicity in it." 65 The continual flux of things,
bearing with it constantly changing affections, which one experiences so
intensely in the affairs of social life, can be escaped in such moments of
reverie as he experienced on St. Peter's Island. In reverie we enjoy
"nothing external to ourselves, nothing if not our own existence. As
long as this state lasts, we are sufficient unto ourselves, like God." 66
Here we have a description of perfect Rousseauan freedom, a retire-
ment into subjectivity, cut off from the restless motions of "body,"
withdrawn into the quiet recesses of solipsistic mind. Brought to per-
fection, the process of reverie, according to Rousseau, not only erases
the world of body; it may actually absorb and transform it, even con-
form it to the will of the subjective self.67 This is what Rousseau means
by freedom; all else is chains.
On his sixth "walk" Rousseau describes how society inevitably forges
chains. He opens the walk with the statement that "there is hardly any
of our automatic impulses whose cause we could not find in our heart,
if we only knew how to look for it." 68 As we read along we discover
that he is concerned with explicating the action of one impulse-the
desire to do good for others-and that his intention in the first sentence
of the paragraph was to say that the desire, and the act that follows
upon it, arise spontaneously from the self, from the complex of mind
and will, and not from some cause in the outer world. The spontaneous
impulses of nature are acts of freedom. Rousseau illustrates the idea
with an anecdote about the enjoyment he took in giving alms to a lame
boy who customarily took up his post at the corer of a boulevard past
which Rousseau's daily routine in the environs of Paris carried him.
"At first I was charmed to see him; I gave to him very good heartedly
and for some time continued to do so with the same pleasure." 69 A
little further on he writes of similar satisfying benevolences. "There
were happier times when, following the impulses of my heart, I would
sometimes make another heart content; and I owe myself the honorable
testimony that, whenever I was able to savor this pleasure, I found it
sweeter than any other. This tendency was intense, true, pure, and
nothing in my most secret inner self ever belied it." 70 "I liked, even
passionatelyliked, being humane, beneficient,and helpful, as long as
only my heart was involved."71 Here is Rousseau, as natural man,
spontaneouslyfollowing one of the first impulsesof the human heart,
the impulseto compassiontowardothers.
But after a while, Rousseautells us, the naturalnessand spontaneity
of such acts were lost, and his motive altered,by the fact that people
came to expect good deeds from him as a matterof right,and to impose
a duty upon him to act well. With referenceto the lame boy he writes
that his pleasurein acting well, "havinggraduallybecome a habit, was
inexplicablytransformedinto a kind of duty I soon felt to be annoying,
especiallybecause of the preliminaryharangueto which I had to listen
and in which he never failed to call me 'MonsieurRousseau' many
times, to show that he knew me well."72 From that time on he avoided
the boulevardcrossing where the lame boy stood, for he found it un-
pleasantto have a duty laid upon him, and he no longer took delight
in the good act. Laterhe goes on to generalize:"I often felt the burden
of my own good deeds by the chain of duties they later entailed.Then
the pleasuredisappeared,and the continuationof the very attentiveness
which had charmedme at first no longer struckme as anythingbut an
almost unbearableannoyance."73 His spontaneousact of freedom,pro-
ceeding only from himself, had been transformedby interactionwith
society, into compulsion, and thereby into somethingpainful to him.