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On Being Sane in the Midst of Madmen: Some Reflections on Civil Societies
Eduardo Rabossi
During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries European philosophers and jurists produced an impressive and lasting body of legal and philosophical theory. They were motivated by the reshaping of political, social, and economic domestic institutions.
Eduardo Rabossi These philosophers and jurists differed on many counts; they belonged to different intellectual and professional traditions; their ontological, epistemological and methodological presuppositions were various; they focused on different aspects of social and political reality; they even differed in the ways in which they were involved in the struggles of the day. However, in spite of all these differences, they shared a common theoretical pattern. Their divergent theories were, in fact, alternative versions of a single theoretical framework. I will call it "the classical format," and will sketch it as a set of "instructions for use":
1. endow individual human beings with basic liberties (natural rights), on an egalitarian basis;
2. assign human beings a common nature grounded on psychological and/or social traits;
3. postulate an initial situation--a state of nature--in which human beings are supposed to find themselves (the state of nature being a state of perfect freedom and equality but with great inconveniences as far as human flourishing is concerned);
4. postulate a basic agreement among individual human beings, the social contract, or some alternative device, through which they get out of the state of nature to enter into a new state, civil society;
5. explain and justify state authority as an agreement to delegate rights (through the social contract or some alternative device);
6. set up constraints on the types, number, and conditions of compliance of the rights held by the citizens vis-à-vis the government or state; and,
7. postulate certain privileges and/or rights of states vis-à-vis other states.
If you follow these instructions and you are a Hobbes, a Grotius, a Locke, or a Kant, you can be sure that your name will be recorded in the history of political thought.
. . . when our philosophers produced their theories, the idea of a civil society was not an operative element dans l'imaginaire sociale. The classical format was, indeed, revolutionary: it gave individual human beings the role of protagonists. They were free agents out of whose consent the social and political arrangements of society were created, and through which they were explained and justified. The civil society was the immediate outcome of such consent or will.
The use of the term "civil society" to describe a certain type of human grouping, i.e., a grouping of citizens, goes back at least to the second half of the fifteenth century. But in the context of the classical format, "civil society" had a technical meaning. "Civil society" did not refer to a natural kind of society. Indeed, it was opposed to such natural groupings as the conjugal, the paternal, and the domestic. Rather, "civil society" referred to an artificial kind of society: something created by consenting individuals. Remember Locke:
Whenever . . . any number of men so unite into one society as to quit everyone his executive power of the Law of Nature, and to resign it to the public, there and there only is a political or civil society. And this is done whenever any number of men, in a state of Nature, enter into society to make one people one body politic under one supreme government. . . . This puts men out of the state of Nature into that of commonwealth. (Second Treatise)
The recognition of the artificial status of the civil society has some interesting consequences. For one thing, when our philosophers produced their theories, the idea of a civil society was not an operative element dans l'imaginaire sociale. There was a big gap between the political institutions of the day, the degree of recognition and protection of individual rights, and the relations among states on the one hand, and the doctrines of our philosophers on the other. The civil society was, indeed, an operative element dans l'imaginaire des philosophes. That is a principal reason why they spoke of the civil society (singular), while allowing at the same time for the possibility of a number of actual civil societies.
Our philosophers were extremely successful theoreticians: their views were widely adopted as interpretive and justificatory tools in the Western political world. Consequently, actual civil societies began to flourish. That is to say, political arrangements led to the visualization of civil societies and to their realization. Or, to put it differently, certain political arrangements led to an interpretation of social and political reality in terms of "civil society." The American, the French, and the Latin American anticolonial revolutions, and the adoption of national constitutions during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, were crucial events leading to the establishment of civil societies in the Western World--or, in many cases, to the intent of "establishing" them.
The distinction I am drawing between the theoretical status of the civil society and its realization is not the distinction that philosophers of natural law make between what ought to be and what is. My point concerns the status of theoretical entities in philosophical discourse, depending on the stances philosophers adopt about the realities they refer to. And my thesis is that such a status depends on whether they adopt a descriptive stance (working on a given reality and trying to shed conceptual light on it), an explanatory stance (explaining the conceptual workings associated with a given reality), or an imaginative stance (aiming at new ways of viewing reality with the implication that "the new way of ideas" is better than the reality it is supposed to replace or, at least, to influence).
Our philosophers' stance was mainly imaginative: they were not describing actual institutions or the conceptual frameworks they involved, nor were they explaining their workings. Our philosophers were positing a new theoretical framework that might inform reality. And certainly they succeeded in doing so. In the classical format "civil society" opposes "state of nature." Consequently, it also opposes what Locke called "legitimate societies," that is, associations that arise naturally in the state of nature (conjugal, paternal, domestic). On the other hand, "civil society" does not oppose "state" or "government." On the contrary, the government and the state are comprised within the civil society. For instance, the idea of state is defined by Kant as "a union of a multitude of men under laws of nature . . . every state [containing] three authorities [the sovereign, that is, the legislator, the executive and the judicial]" (Metaphysik der Sitten, I). Kant's view was the standard way of expressing a central tenet of the classical format: the acts of ruling individuals may be attributed to a multitude of free agents, with interests of their own, but consenting to a public interest.
It was Hegel who introduced the idea of the state as an entity different from the civil society and dialectically comprising it: the state was the entity that transcends the family and the civil society and gives them meaning and a proper grounding. His was also an imaginative proposal that meant a deep break with the classical format. It too came to inform reality. The development of states as bureaucratic machines with lives of their own does not fit exactly the Hegelian view, but realizes the idea that state and civil society are different and even opposed entities.
In the classical format the civil society is the maximal social group; that is to say, the classical format does not allow for a legitimate social grouping larger than the civil society. On the other hand, the classical format allows for the possibility of a number of civil societies somehow related among themselves. And such a possibility sets up a problem, namely, that of interstate, international, relations.
The privileges or rights of states vis-à-vis other states, and the importance of regulating state relations, were matters of concern to most of our philosophers. Grotius, the founding father of international law, argued in favor of a partially legalized system of rules which states should abide by. The Hobbesian state of nature in which the emerging nation-states fell required obedience to some basic principles (such as mutual respect for sovereignty and pacta sunt servanda [agreements must be kept]) and to a system of rules regulating state conduct in war and peace, trade and diplomatic relations. Grotius thought that covenants among nation-states, a body of regulatory rules rationally accepted by states and grounded in natural law, were enough to build up an adequate international order. To a large extent, international law is, at present, what Grotius envisaged more than three centuries ago. But he did not conceive of the possibility of an established institutional bond among states (neither did Hegel, for different reasons).
Kant gave the problem a different answer; his was a more passing, but more audacious, proposal. Kant was influenced by Rousseau's abridged version of a Project on Perpetual Peace published in 1713, in which the Abbé of Saint Pierre argued in favor of a federation of European monarchs with a congress of their representatives arbitrating their controversies. In 1795 Kant published Zum ewigen Frieden: ein philosophischer Entwurf. He argued in favor of a world federation of states to which only republics should be admitted. He also presented three "definitive articles on eternal peace":
1. The civil constitution of each state should be republican.
2. The law of nations should be based upon a federalism of free states.
3. The cosmopolitan or world law shall be limited to conditions of a universal hospitality.
The federation was to enact and enforce a Treatise on Eternal Peace. By the way, Kant's professional zeal led him to support the idea that the Treatise should contain a secret clause stating: "The maxims of the philosophers concerning the conditions of the possibility of public peace should be consulted by the states that are ready to go to war." Indeed, an excellent professional market for Kantian philosophers!
I do not intend to discuss such large topics as the nature and limits of international law, nor to review the imaginative proposals to which the quest for a worldwide perpetual peace gave rise. I only want to stress that (1) according to the classical format the civil society is the maximal social grouping; (2) relations among nation-states are contingent on and presuppose their full sovereignty; (3) the format itself leaves open the nature of the possible relations among states; and (4) the motivating force behind proposals concerning interstate relations is the pursuit of peace.
Let me suggest, now, a sort of intellectual exercise. Let us leave the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and jump a couple of centuries. Let us inquire about the present state of the world concerning these matters. Let us further imagine that we manage to "translate" our description of the present state of the world into the theoretical language of our philosopher friends Hobbes, Locke, Grotius, Kant, and (why not?) Rousseau. What do we find? For the first time in human history:
1. an international confederation joined by all national states (exceptions are negligible) has been established;
2. the attainment of peace is a main goal of the confederation, but it is intrinsically related to other basic goals;
3. consequently, a whole system of values has been made explicit, formally agreed upon by the states;
4. although the international confederation was set up by a multilateral agreement, it does not follow the traditional pattern of bilateral or unilateral treatises, but a new pattern: international covenants are issued by the confederation's General Assembly; states are free to sign and to ratify them, and when they do so, they assume thereby obligations that are monitored by several bodies;
5. the normative enactment of basic values follows the strategy of attributing rights (human rights, natural rights) to individual persons and, sometimes, to collective persons;
6. national political systems are constrained by normative requirements concerning republican values and the corresponding institutional arrangements.
I am convinced that our philosophers would be amazed when confronted with such an unexpected planetary state of affairs.
It might be argued, however, that their amazement would be produced by the unexpected dimension of such developments, not by any qualitative change concerning the essentials of the classical format: civil societies (states, governments) are still the free, sovereign persons in the international setting.
This is no doubt true, but only partially so, because for the first time in human history:
7. states have consented to the possibility of restrictions on their sovereignty; and
8. individual persons are recognized as valid actors in international law because the very idea of human rights "asserts that every human being, in every society, is entitled to have basic autonomy and freedoms respected and basic needs satisfied" (Louis Henkin, The International Bill of Rights) and because individual persons are granted legal and procedural defenses before the international bodies.
These are decisive reasons favoring the idea that not only a quantitative but also a qualitative shift has taken place.
Now the point of discussing the idea of civil society as a conceptual element in the classical format, of highlighting its realization in institutional arrangements, and of describing recent developments concerning the world order can be seen.
There is, in the making, a global institutional system that might be the basis of some form of world managerial or governmental arrangement. The design of such a system implies, as an essential element, the idea of a world society of human beings (a new maximal dimension for civil society), coexisting with present civil societies or alternative social groupings. This new maximal dimension for civil society poses two major new tasks: the imaginative construction or drawing up of an institutional design for this global civil society and the adoption of policies that would lead to this community.
I do not intend to approach here these imposing problems. I want to point out only that philosophers have an important role to play in these matters, that states are not necessarily non-partners in the process, and that there is no essential contradiction in belonging to both a domestic civil society and a global civil society (as there is no contradiction in belonging to, say, a parental grouping and to a domestic civil society). Notice that, at present, "global civil society" is a quasi-technical term not yet fully realized. But let us elaborate on it. After all, an imaginative conception was the starting point for civil society in the hands of our philosophers. And this is not wishful thinking, romantic talk or, even, manifesto talk. The global society is a reality that already has a place in our world.
Let me try to project some of these topics to Latin American reality.
Latin America has an excellent standing in transnational agreements and institutional arrangements. In 1826 the Amphictyonic Congress met in Panama to adopt a Treatise on Perpetual Union and Confederation and a Protocol creating a confederate army. The Treatise included the peaceful resolution of controversies, continental citizenship, democracy as a form of government, and the abolition of slavery. Neither the Treatise nor the Protocol were enacted, but they became basic documents for ensuing events. In 1847-48 the first Hispanoamerican Congress met in Lima. It was the first of a series of meetings from which the United States was explicitly excluded.
. . . the Latin American countries have had, in general, a good constitutional record. . . . But the truth is that in most Latin American countries there seems to be a sort of essential difficulty in fitting the constitutional letter to the actual world. In 1889, the International Union of American Republics was created, under the initiative of the United States. The Union was the first institutional arrangement of this sort in the world. Since 1889, inter-American congresses have met regularly. The Union was a very important antecedent for the organization of the United Nations. In 1948 the Union was transformed into the Organization of American States. Again, the OAS was the first modern regional organization of its kind. In 1948 the OAS issued the American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man, a short time before the United Nations Universal Declaration. In 1959 the OAS created the Inter-American Commission for Human Rights and in 1969 issued the American Convention on Human Rights. The system was completed with the Inter-American Court on Human Rights, modeled on its European partner. (By the way, the Central American Court [1908] was the first of its kind in the world.) At a national level, the outstanding case is that of the Mexican Constitution of 1917: it was the first constitutional text to include social and economic rights on the same footing as civil and political rights. It came almost two years before the Weimar Constitution.
In sum, the Latin American countries have had, in general, a good constitutional record. The first revolutionary movements took place in 1809-10, a few decades after the American and the French Revolutions, and in spite of the independence wars and, later, the civil wars, the recognition of a constitutional arrangement of a republican kind was a constant. In spite of entering history only at the beginning of the nineteenth century, Latin American countries have been prominent actors in the process leading to the human rights phenomenon.
Such an excellent record in transnational and constitutional arrangements is not thoroughly reflected, though, in actual social, economic, and political practices: Latin American countries are not characterized by a stable institutional life, nor by an abiding respect for freedom and basic human rights. To be sure, they are not exceptions in the world. But the truth is that in most Latin American countries there seems to be a sort of essential difficulty in fitting the constitutional letter to the actual world. The causes of this phenomenon are complex and may differ from country to country. I do not intend to explore them. However, I think it is important to point out that in Latin America the traditional concept of civil society has suffered a peculiar change of sense. Because of the recurrent exercise of power by the military, "civil society" has come to be opposed to "state in the hands of the armed forces." This sense reproduces the opposition between civilians and the military, an opposition that has deep roots in the struggle for power and the possibility of a standing democracy.
A second, more recent, move opposes "civil society" to "state," not so much in the traditional way in which both terms were opposed, but as implying a partisan holy war against state economic and, implicitly, political power. In the hands of the neo-conservatives the opposition between civil society and state involves a limitation of state power vis-à-vis corporate power; it also involves, in its turn, privatization as a necessary step--so it is thought and maintained--towards a market economy (a fallacious notion, I think). No one knows what the outcome of this policy will be. But by now many Latin Americans of the lower and middle classes know that the outcome is highly unsatisfactory: basic welfare services, especially those concerning health and education, are being scuttled or passed to private hands. And in Latin America that means moral, social, and political suicide.
World affairs are not a source of placid moods and optimistic feelings. Day after day we get a dose of bad news; and scepticism seems to be the only natural and, perhaps, rational reaction. Even optimistic souls have to admit that war, famine, disease, ignorance, irrationality, unjustified inequalities, and suffering seem to be unavoidable features of the human condition. A world in which human beings are free from "want and fear"--once thought of as a remote but possible state of affairs--has now become an impossible dream.
It is difficult to deny the existence of such negative signs. However, I think that such a dark picture of reality is, at least in part, one-sided. If instead of applying a diffuse ideal as a comparative standard, we contrast the present-day human condition with that of, say, a couple of centuries ago, the picture changes. If instead of viewing human civilization as a sort of perennial phenomenon, we view it as an evolutionary newcomer, only four or five thousand years old (a few seconds on the cosmic clock), the picture changes. If instead of attending to bad news only, we have an ear for good news, again the picture changes. The point is not to change the dark picture for an unrealistically bright one. The point is to change it enough so as to counteract the skeptical frame of mind. Leaving aside scepticism is, in these matters, a necessary condition for good theorizing and for an active support of the cause of peace, justice, and freedom.
I admit that these considerations have a relative weight. So, I will present a sort of reductio ad absurdum of the skeptical position on these matters, or if you prefer, an argument showing the necessity of being optimistic. It comes from the Abbé of Saint Pierre, that is, Rousseau.
Saint Pierre argues, correctly, that from the fact that there are good arguments in favor of his project on Perpetual Peace it does not follow that the European sovereigns would adopt it: it follows that they would adopt it if they consulted their true interests. Saint Pierre (Rousseau) adds:
The reader must observe that we have not supposed men to be such as they ought to be--good, generous, disinterested, and loving public good from motives of human sympathy--but such as they are, unjust, greedy, and preferring their own interest to everything else. The only thing we assume on their behalf is enough intelligence to see what is useful to themselves, and enough courage to achieve their own happiness. If in spite of all this, this project is not carried into execution, it is not because it is chimerical, it is because men are crazy, and because to be sane in the midst of madmen is a sort of folly.
Introduction
W. Robert Connor
Civil Society
and the Present Age
Bronislaw Geremek
Economics and
Human Values
György Varga
Religion, Nationalism,
and a Civil Society
Conor Cruise O'Brien
On Being Sane
in the Midst of
Madmen
Eduardo Rabossi
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Comments to: lmorgan@ga.unc.edu
Revised: February 1998
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