Jean-Jacques Rousseau, “Abstract” and “Judgment” of Saint-Pierre’s Project for Perpetual Peace in Europe (1761, 1782)

I. Perpetual Peace and the Foundation of Modern Idealism

Anticipating Immanuel Kant’s momentous break with modern realism and foundation of modern idealism at the end of the eighteenth century, a French clergyman, the Abbé de Saint-Pierre (1658-1743), proposed a plan for the nations of Europe to form a confederation with a view to escaping the violent state of nature in which they found themselves. Saint-Pierre’s multi-volume Project for Perpetual Peace in Europe (1713, 1717) is of practical interest to us today as a forerunner to the European Union and other such projects of international organization for the sake of peace. And, in its attempt to overcome the state of nature in international relations by establishing a sort of civil state among states, it bears the characteristic mark of modern idealism. The modern idealists accepted the modern realists’ characterization of the international situation as a state of nature but denied that it must forever remain so. In this way, they followed the progressive path that their modern realist predecessors such as Hobbes and Montesquieu only pointed to in their more hopeful moments.

 

II. On the Relation of Rousseau’s “Abstract” and “Judgment”

There are more impressive and important examples of modern idealism than Saint-Pierre’s Project. But it bears the unique distinction of having been abridged and judged by the Swiss philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778). It is Rousseau’s evaluation of Saint-Pierre that concerns us here. That evaluation is of interest partially as the main repository of Rousseau’s thought on international relations, at least among his published works, and partially as a sympathetic critique of European confederation. Rousseau approves of Saint-Pierre’s goal and deeply admires the moral intention behind it. But he regards the means of achieving it proposed by Saint-Pierre as naïve and impractical. Rousseau indicates in his autobiographical Confessions that he was asked to abridge Saint-Pierre’s Project by a friend of the late Abbé who wished to bring honor to his memory and in doing so flatter herself (IX.2.6).[1] Having agreed to undertake the effort, Rousseau was quickly tempted to abandon it as he found the Project “diffuse, confused, full of tedious passages, unnecessary repetitions, little short-sighted or false ideas, among which it was necessary to fish for some great, fine ones.” But a decent sense of obligation to Saint-Pierre’s nephew, the Comte de Saint-Pierre, who gave Rousseau the manuscripts kept him from succumbing to this temptation.

In addition to producing a highly compressed version of the Project, Rousseau, as he himself indicates in the Confessions, took the liberty of “think[ing] for [himself] sometimes” and giving “such a form to [his] work that very important truths would pass in it under the Abbé de St. Pierre’s cloak even more happily than under [his] own” (IX.2.6). “There is,” according to one English translator of the “Abstract,” “much more Rousseau than Saint-Pierre in the whole performance.”[2] Nevertheless, the “Abstract” is by no means a straightforward reflection of Rousseau’s views. When he examined the manuscripts, Rousseau found that, by contrast with Saint-Pierre’s intelligent “writings on morality,” his “political works showed…only superficial views, projects that were useful but impracticable because of the idea from which the author was never able to depart that men were led by their enlightenment rather than by their passions” (IX.6.1).[3] This discovery led Rousseau into a state of “some perplexity about the form to give [the] work,” fearing that to “let the author’s visions pass was not to do anything useful” but that “to refute them rigorously was to do something dishonorable” (IX.6.2). He settled on presenting their ideas separately, Saint-Pierre’s in the “Abstract” and his own in the “Judgment.” In this context, he makes clear that, in writing the “Abstract,” he sought “to enter into [Saint-Pierre’s] intentions, to clarify them, to extend them, and to spare nothing to make them valued at their full worth” (IX.6.2). So what we find in the “Abstract” is the best possible case that Rousseau thinks can be made for Saint-Pierre’s position.

Not only did Rousseau think it important to offer a strong defense of Saint-Pierre’s Project, he also felt compelled to refrain from publishing his critical “Judgment” of it “until after [the “Abstract”] had had its effect” (IX.6.3). The “Abstract” was published in 1761 and the “Judgment” was published posthumously in 1782. In the intervening period, the “Abstract” was taken by many as reflective of not only Saint-Pierre’s views but also of Rousseau’s. Rousseau seems to have found all this rather amusing especially in the case of Voltaire, who publicly mocked him for the utopianism of the plan. In the Confessions, Rousseau gleefully anticipates the day when, should his “Judgment” ever be published, his antagonist’s foolishness comes to light (XI, 457).

 

III. On the Intention of Rousseau

Rousseau’s genuine and considered views notwithstanding, one can understand how Voltaire came under his misapprehension as soon as one begins reading the “Abstract.” It opens with a flowery tribute to Saint-Pierre: “Since no greater, finer, or more useful Plan has ever occupied the human mind than the one of a perpetual and universal Peace among all the peoples of Europe, no Author has ever better deserved the attention of the Public than the one who proposes the means for putting this Plan into execution” (27).[4] Saint-Pierre’s plan is apt to inspire “enthusiasm” in “a sensitive and virtuous man,” Rousseau gushes (27-28). Favorably receiving the plan is thus the mark of a “healthy soul,” a designation that Rousseau also applies to Saint-Pierre himself for his public-spiritedness (53).

Yet Rousseau immediately qualifies his praise when he contrasts this noble enthusiasm with the “incredulity” with which “harsh and repellent reason” greets the plan (28). (Witness Voltaire.) While he seems to be encouraging the enthusiastic rather than the incredulous reaction, he is at the same time making clear that the former is non-rational, not to say irrational, and thus raising a question about it. Rousseau hopes to evoke in his humane readers the delight that comes from imagining “men uniting and loving each other” (28). But he allows his readers to enjoy this warm sentiment for only a moment before dousing it with cold water. Apologizing that he “could not deny these initial lines to the feeling with which [he is] full,” Rousseau, as if having come to his senses, exhorts himself and his readers to “try to reason coolly” (28). Accordingly, the remainder of the “Abstract” lacks the glowing, sentimental tone of these opening paragraphs. Rousseau proceeds largely to summarize Saint-Pierre’s Plan and, apart from one explicit exception, reserves his own, critical views for his “Judgment.”

From the outset, then, we perceive a paradox at the heart of the Rousseau’s “Abstract” and “Judgment”—not at all an uncommon experience for students of Rousseau. Rousseau seeks to foster the humane spirit that guides Saint-Pierre’s project. At the same time, he criticizes that project as naive and impractical, effectively deflating that spirit of humanity. It suffices now simply to raise the question of Rousseau’s intention. We shall return to it after considering his rendering and assessment of Saint-Pierre’s plan in his “Abstract” and “Judgment.”

 

IV. Europe as State of War

Rousseau’s version of Saint-Pierre’s plan begins with a reflection on the ambivalent situation in which men find themselves after having formed civil states: While they have escaped the state of nature with their fellow citizens, they have thereby given rise to a new state of nature among the civil states that they have formed. In contrast to Hobbes, who insists that the state of nature among nations is considerably more tolerable than the state of nature among individuals, Saint-Pierre, or rather Rousseau, insists that the former is “a thousand times more terrible” (28). Not only is the warfare that accompanies this state terrible, the preoccupation with external security that it requires distracts from the goal of internal perfection. In this sense, the formation of separate civil states without somehow uniting them is, for Rousseau and Saint-Pierre alike, only a half-measure. This difference partially explains why Rousseau so admires the goal of escaping from the international state of nature whereas Hobbes contents himself with the formation of separate commonwealths.

Saint-Pierre identifies international confederation as the solution to the problem of international anarchy. In this way, he is even more hopeful about what this institution can achieve than his contemporary theorist of confederation, Montesquieu. Europe finds itself in an informal confederation by accident. We should note here that, according to C.E. Vaughan, the account of the European situation that follows is entirely of Rousseau’s doing.[5] The accidental unity of modern Europe is partially the legacy of the Roman Empire which once united Europe formally and intentionally. Even more important than the “ancient image of the Roman Empire” is Christianity (30-31). Along with these commonalities, the geographic situation of Europe, the ties among its sovereigns, the rivers that traverse it, the movement of its restless inhabitants, its common literature, and its commercial interdependence serve to unify the continent (31).

Nevertheless, Europe is wracked by acrimony and warfare. This is only natural. For “every society without laws or Leaders, every union formed or maintained by chance, must necessarily degenerate into quarrel and dissension at the first change in circumstances that happens” (32). So long as Europe lacks common laws or leaders, the closeness of the states that compose it will serve only as a source of conflict. In the absence of any enforceable public right, the continent is and will continue to be governed by the force of its stronger members. Overcoming this condition will require the establishment of a common “compulsory force…which orders and concerts its Members’ movements, in order to give the common interests and reciprocal engagements [of European states] the solidity they cannot have by themselves” (33). As Daniel Frey observes, Saint-Pierre, and, for that matter, Rousseau, is not satisfied, with Cardinal Richelieu and others, that the balance of power that emerged organically from interstate competition in Europe is sufficient for real security or peace.[6]

Rousseau then sets out to demonstrate Saint-Pierre’s conviction that it is impossible for any single state or alliance of two or three states to conquer the continent even in the absence of a common coercive force. The other states will always unite to resist such would-be conquerors and they will always prevail in the end (33-34). Saint-Pierre’s intention is to discourage us from placing our hopes for perpetual peace in an aspirant or clique of co-aspirants to universal monarchy. This is one of numerous instances in which Saint-Pierre, at least as he is presented by Rousseau, speaks in high-minded disapproval of ambitious conquest. As we shall see in his “Judgment,” Rousseau is going to advance the counterargument that the only hope for perpetual peace lies in, if not universal monarchy, some form of benevolent hegemony.

 

V. Toward a European Confederation

If a European confederation is to succeed, if its members are to be kept “from separating from it at their will as soon as they believe they see their particular interest contrary to the general interest,” it must be “firm and durable” (36). To this end, it must have “a judicial Tribunal, which can establish laws and rules that must oblige all the members” and “a compulsory and coercive force to constrain each State to submit to the common deliberations” (36). It is worth noting that, in the latter respect, today’s European Union falls far short of Saint-Pierre’s proposal.

Rousseau presents five articles for constituting the confederation. First, the sovereigns of the member states will agree to “a perpetual and irrevocable alliance” and appoint plenipotentiaries to a diet that will settle all the differences among them (37). Second, one vote will be allocated to each  member state except for the smallest which will have one vote together, an arrangement for a rotating presidency will be made, and a system of proportional requisitions for common expenses will be devised. Third, the confederation will guarantee the respective territories and forms of government of the member states. Member states will accordingly be required to renounce any territorial claims against the status quo. And the confederation will in practice be a powerful force opposing revolution and republicanism. Fourth, failure to execute the confederation’s judgments, preparation for war, negotiation of treaties contrary to the confederation, armed resistance to the confederation, and attacks on other member states will constitute punishable breaches of the treaty. Finally, the member states will pledge to take part in a common effort to subdue and punish any and all violators of the treaty.

Rousseau proceeds to defend the efficacy of this proposal by arguing that no partial league of member states will be able to upset the confederation given that, as he has observed, it is already impossible for one or a few states to conquer the continent and that the confederation will obviate the motives that lead princes to war. Aggressive princes will be thwarted by the confederation, rendering defensive warfare unnecessary. And territorial disputes will have been settled at the foundation of the confederation.

 

VI. Princely Motives

Even if it is the case that, as Saint-Pierre argues, it would be irrational for princes to attempt conquest, dispute the treaty settlement, or otherwise resist the confederacy, one can still wonder whether Saint-Pierre’s proposal does indeed offer the prospect of perpetual peace. For his argument rests upon the dubious premise that princes will be rational, that they will never be driven to war in the false hope of victory. It is with respect to this question, the motives of princes, that Rousseau is most critical of Saint-Pierre. When Rousseau turns from Saint-Pierre’s demonstration that the confederation would assure peace to his account of why princes might agree to join the confederation in the first place, he, for the first and only time in the “Abstract,” makes a point of disagreeing with Saint-Pierre. Rousseau indicates that he “would not dare respond” to the question of whether joining the confederation is in the interest of princes “along with Saint-Pierre” to the effect that a prince secures the greatest glory by advancing the common good (42). Rousseau suggests that this response, which has met with “ridicule” in “the chambers of Ministers,” presumes too much “virtue” on the part of princes (42). While he explicitly refuses to join in that ridicule, Rousseau takes a different approach to the question, considering only the interests of princes, and conceiving of them rather more narrowly and rather less nobly than Saint-Pierre had done.

Following this approach, Rousseau observes that, if it is impossible for any prince to conquer the whole of Europe, the promise of at least securing the territory they presently possess will be attractive to princes; that attempts at conquest are foolhardy; that the confederation will strengthen the sovereignty of princes; that the pooling of defenses will result in fewer expenses and thus allow princes to foster commerce, agriculture, and the arts internally; and that the continent will be better defended against external enemies under the confederation. Finally, he recapitulates all the disadvantages of the status quo. Anticipating accusations of utopianism, he concludes the “Abstract” by insisting that “we have not at all assumed men to be as they ought to be, good, generous, disinterested, and loving of the public good out of humanity; but as they are, unjust, greedy, and preferring their self-interest to everything” (49). The establishment of a European confederation depends only upon men clearly seeing where their self-interest lies and having “enough courage to bring about their own happiness” (49). Saint-Pierre or Saint-Pierre-as-modified-by-Rousseau concedes that this eventuality may not come to pass, but clearly does not regard the hope for it as utopian.

 

VII. Rousseau’s Judgment

In his “Judgment of the Plan for Perpetual Peace,” Rousseau affirms the soundness of Saint-Pierre’s arguments that the confederation would keep the peace in Europe and would serve the true interests of princes. He goes so far as to claim that “the general and particular utility of this plan” has been as well “demonstrated” as any “moral truth” (53). The confederation would be so universally beneficial that to make it “real for a single day would be enough to make it last forever” (53). Yet, according to Rousseau, this condition will never be realized. Princes will, in his estimation, never agree to the establishment of the confederation. It turns out that even the view of princes as narrowly self-interested that Rousseau offered as a more realistic alternative to Saint-Pierre’s high-minded view is utopian. For princes cannot see their interests clearly. Ambition and wisdom tend not to coincide. Rousseau here draws on his conception of the passion “amour-propre,” or pride—a fundamental dimension of his thought—explaining, “it is the great punishment of the excess of amour-propre always to have recourse to means that deceive it and the very ardor of the passions is almost always what diverts them from their goal” (54). For this reason, it is highly unlikely for princes to see that their true interests do lie in forming and keeping a European confederation.

Rousseau begins his analysis of how princes will receive the idea of a confederation by asserting that their “entire occupation…relates to only two objects, extending their domination abroad and rendering it absolute at home” (54). The confederation stands in the way of both of these objects. With respect to the first object, Rousseau’s point is clear enough. Yet, as far as the second object goes, one would think that princes would find the confederation’s guarantee to maintain their regimes attractive. Rousseau counterintuitively denies this on the basis of the observation that the confederation’s guarantee against domestic revolution will, in order to have any effect, require that the confederation guarantee subjects “against the tyranny of the Princes” (54). Princes will greet this requirement “to be just, not only with Foreigners, but even with [their] own subjects” with “indignation” (54). Princes are even less inclined to give up on conquest or despotism because the two are mutually reinforcing. Enslaved people can easily be exploited for campaigns and those campaigns offer pretexts for that exploitation and for having large standing armies to suppress the people. Finally, the sheer fact of being subjected to the confederacy’s requirements and answerable to its tribunals, quite apart from the content of those requirements or judgments of those tribunals, will be insufferable for princes unaccustomed to obedience of any kind (55).

Princes, Rousseau argues, will not be compelled by the sound arguments that Saint-Pierre makes about the imprudence of conquest. In what is perhaps Rousseau’s most persuasive correction of Saint-Pierre, he makes the simple observation that princes will often be moved by vain hopes rooted in an overestimation of their strengths and underestimation of their disadvantages. Ambitious princes are unlikely moderately to accept the limits of their power. In a similar vein, Rousseau argues that princes will not be persuaded by the commercial advantages that would follow from a general peace on the ground that princes reason circularly about the acquisition of wealth and power, sacrificing wealth for the sake of power, which is sought in part for the sake of wealth. Furthermore, these commercial benefits will amount to little in the minds of princes insofar as they would be common. Princes want relative power. In their eyes, there simply is not a common good to be had with their peers.

Having presented all of these obstacles arising from the motives of princes, Rousseau claims that ministers will be even more opposed to a confederation insofar as their position and the advantages they draw from that position depend upon war abroad and despotism at home. Without the former, they would be unneeded for counsel. And, without the latter, they would be unable so easily to exploit the people for their own advantage. It is hard not to find these characterizations of princes and ministers excessive. Indeed, Rousseau himself is about to give an account of a prince and a minister, Henri IV and the Duc de Sully, which would suggest that they are. But Rousseau’s third criticism of the plan, namely, that its execution is contingent upon the highly fortuitous circumstance of not only some but all of Europe’s princes having the wisdom to recognize the plan’s advantages, is powerful. So even if Rousseau goes too far in suggesting that all princes and ministers are too stupid or too wicked to embrace the plan, he can still make the very sound argument that there will almost always be too many stupid princes and too many wicked ministers for circumstances to favor its realization. In the light of all of this, Rousseau renders a harsh judgment against Saint-Pierre. While, in one breath, he praises the plan as “very wise,” in the next, he claims that its means of execution “make one feel the author’s simplicity” (56). Later he underscores Saint-Pierre’s naïveté by comparing him to “a child” (57).

Yet Rousseau is at pains to deny any suggestion that “the plan for the Christian Republic” might be “chimerical” in principle (57). There are alternative, practicable means by which the plan could be brought to fruition. It comes as something of a surprise, given the blistering treatment that princes and their ministers have received thus far, that, in Rousseau’s telling, those means have already been devised and nearly used with success by Henri IV of France and his minister Sully. At the time of Henri’s reign (1589-1610), the House of Hapsburg, which ruled the Holy Roman Empire and Spain, was losing the dominance over Europe that it had achieved in the previous generation under Charles V. Weakened, the Hapsburgs had become vulnerable to the many states they had offended at their zenith. Exploiting their particular grievances, fears, and hopes, Henri forged separate alliances with England, the newly freed Dutch Republic, Sweden, various princes of Germany, Savoy, and the Pope, with the ultimate objective of dismantling the Hapsburgs’ holdings across Europe. Thus Henri appealed not only to the “common interest of bringing down a prideful power that wanted to dominate everywhere,” but also to “very avid, very tangible” particular interests (59).

Henri evidently understood what Saint-Pierre did not, namely, that princes are motivated primarily by a concern for their particular interests rather than any common interest they might share. This awareness that princes are loath to sacrifice relative power led Henri to understand that he had to conceal his true objective in contracting these alliances, namely, to succeed Charles V as “the foremost potentate of Europe” (59). He recognized that he had to assure that his allies’ reasons for joining him were “not at all balanced by the fear of substituting one Tyrant for the other” (59). So he agreed to abstain from the Hapsburgs’ territories himself, instead dividing them among his allies. Of course, he recognized that he did not need to possess those territories himself in order to achieve his objective. He needed only to knock off the Hapsburgs.

Rousseau strikingly refrains from criticizing Henri’s deception. On the contrary, he speaks admiringly of the skill with which he kept his secrets for so very long. Henri managed, Rousseau recounts, to share “the whole extent of his plan” with no more than “a single confidant,” his minister Sully (58). Rousseau praises Sully as “a minister with integrity”—a commendation that, on the basis of his account so far, might seem oxymoronic (58). Nevertheless, Rousseau, in a strange way, reaffirms that most ministers are wicked when he attributes Henri’s having such a minister to “a good fortune which heaven grants only to the best of Kings” (58). In other words, finding such a minister of integrity might depend upon an act of God.

But Rousseau’s discovery of divine providence supporting Henri only further complicates his initial presentation of princes and their ministers as wicked and stupid. One wonders what we are to make of Rousseau’s suggestion that God assists not the purely righteous cleric, Saint-Pierre, but the cleverly self-interested king, Henri. In any case, it is clear that Rousseau’s account of Henri teaches that political effectiveness is far more likely to be seen in a prudent prince pursuing his particular interest than in any collection of princes high-mindedly pursuing their common interest. Contrary to what one might be tempted to think initially, this harsh corrective to Saint-Pierre’s idealism is not cynical. For Rousseau’s characterization of the domestic preparations that Henri made for the Christian Republic as beneficial for his people shows that, again contrary to his earlier statements, princes, even princes seeking to dominate their neighbors, need not be despotic. They may recognize as Henri did that their interest does lie in governing their people justly.

 

VIII. Rousseau’s Teaching

The key to Rousseau’s teaching lies in the tension between the heroes of the “Abstract” and the “Judgment,” Saint-Pierre and Henri IV. He encourages us to admire the moral rectitude of Saint-Pierre only to show that having a good will is insufficient for and may even stand in the way of achieving the object of that will. If the virtuous souls who, as such, are inclined to admire Saint-Pierre care about the attainment of perpetual peace, then they will have to put their hopes in prudent but self-interested princes, such as Henri. Yet Rousseau’s general disparagement of princes and observation that ambition and wisdom tend not to coincide suggests that such princes are not to be counted on. So, while the example of Henri may show that a European confederation is not quite chimerical, it suggests that it is highly contingent.

Political life is unlikely therefore to live up to the high hopes of Saint-Pierre or the virtuous souls attracted to his plan. Certainly those hopes will not be realized in the high-minded fashion favored by the pure of heart. Rousseau evidently wishes to underscore this. For he concludes his “Judgment” with the ambivalent observation that, if a Henri and a Sully were to appear again in Europe, the “means” they would necessarily use establish perpetual peace would be “violent and formidable to humanity” (60). The immediate situation would be so horrendous that even Rousseau, who thinks so little of the status quo, wonders whether the creation of a “European League” would cause more harm all at once than it would prevent for centuries” (60). Given this, the effect of Rousseau’s simultaneous encouragement of the spirit of Saint-Pierre and disclosure of the inefficacy of that spirit in politics is to provoke the pure of heart to turn away from political life in resignation to the limits of that life. While this is presumably the primary effect that Rousseau intends with his “Abstract” and “Judgment,” this does not preclude him from delivering an altogether different message to an altogether different sort of reader, specifically to one of the few ambitious and wise or potentially wise political men who might learn from Rousseau’s account of Henri IV.

A word should be said, in conclusion, about Rousseau’s place among the various schools of international relations theory. Because he wrote so little about international relations directly and because his one published work on the subject is so ambiguous, his views defy simple categorization. His approval of the goal of perpetual peace and dissatisfaction with the continuation of the state of nature among nations would suggest that he belongs among the modern idealists. Yet he evinces none of the modern idealists’ confidence that this goal would be achieved or dissatisfaction remedied. Here, as in other areas of his thought, Rousseau offers much more of a diagnosis of the modern condition than a cure for it.