On the Influence of Enlightenment on Revolutions
Johann Heinrich Tieftrunk (1759-1837), a disciple of Kant and the first editor of his works3 was called to the University of Halle in 1792 in the wake of Woellner's edicts. Politically more conservative than Kant's younger follower Adam Bergk, he suggested in his 1791 book, On State-Craft and Legislation, that German princes might avoid the revolutionary violence that swept France by undertaking a prudent program of reforms. The same conviction that enlightened, cautious reforms were the principal means of thwarting the outbreak of revolution animates the essay translated here.
We now live in a century of enlightenment. Should this be said to be an honor or a disgrace for our century? We also live in a century of revolutions. Is it enlightenment which currently undermines the peace of states? Men from all social ranks stand opposed to scholars [Gelehrten]. It is said that through enlightenment they have misled the sentiments of the people into discontent. They have spread principles among them which are dangerous for the peace of states. They have disparaged the religion of the people, and in this way have caused anarchy and a general corruption of morals. They bear the responsibility for all the maladies which provoked and which daily continue to provoke our age's spirit of rebellion. Enlightenment, it is said, is the source of revolutions.
One seeks to make all the advances of human knowledge suspect, and for this reason one seeks to link the concept of enlightenment to all kinds of hateful accessory concepts. Today heresy, freethinking, Jacobinism, and the rejection of all authority, however respectable, are called enlightenment. Today enlightenment is treason. One must define the concept of enlightenment precisely and then the question can be posed: To what extent is it responsible for the events of our age?
Enlightenment means nothing more than progress in thinking for oneself [Selbstdenken], and consequently also progress in morality. This endeavor is an appeal of rational nature and is the highest duty we owe ourselves and humanity. No holy and venerable truth, on which mankind relies and on which the welfare of civil society and the respect for virtue and religion depends, can be harmed by that, because it is, after all, presupposed to be true. The more I practice thinking for myself and the more I endeavor to bring clarity and coherence to my knowledge, the closer I approach my destiny as man and as citizen.1 Practical reason gives me the supreme moral law, through which I am led to the most important fundamental truths of religion. The more I lose myself in the contemplation of nature, the more there grows in me reverence, love, and deep respect toward its great Creator. A good, well-ordered mind does not have the arrogance to know secrets that lie beyond the bounds of all knowledge. Thus how can one malign enlightenment, or the optimum use of reason, for the unfortunate overthrow of the French state and the destruction of old, well-established rights and titles? How can one regard enlightenment as the cause of the atrocious, disgraceful deeds instigated by this political upheaval? The destruction of old laws is considered an injury to mankind; would one muzzle reason—the source of all laws, without which one cannot even create a concept of law? Whoever wishes to restrict enlightenment out of fear of losing certain truths through it either has no idea what he wants, either betrays a mistrust of the truths for which he crusades, or is a hypocrite.
First published anonymously as “Über den Einfluß der Aufklärung auf Revolutionen ” in Pharos für Äonen (January 1794): 3-12 and (February 1794): 83-94.
Enlightenment instills obedience and respect for the rights of the sovereign by providing grounds for these rights. It teaches man that without civil law his life could neither be secured nor enjoyed. Moreover, it teaches man that he has the state to thank for the most important parts of his happiness: peace, the opportunity to earn a living, social pleasures, the abundance of food, and everything which belongs to the cultivation of his spirit and the education of his children. Man would have to do without all this or possess it only in the most miserable and also the most burdensome way if no social contract—and with it relations between sovereigns and their subjects—had been introduced. Thus he recognizes that restrictions on freedom, which must arise from every reasonable regulation and consequently also from the laws of the state, are inevitably required for both the common and individual welfare, and hence that every reasonable person must willingly put up with these restrictions as well as with all the burdens that the state lays on its citizens, because without them the prevailing good that is decisive for the whole society's welfare cannot be obtained, since it is possible only through exact compliance with the laws of the state.
A people who has no enlightenment is the pawn of every hypocritical fanatic who makes into a divine commandment whatever he finds most advantageous for his own purposes: his lust for power, his self-interest, or whatever. As soon as the conduct of the sovereign touches in the least on the hypocrite's self-interest, the latter will immediately move heaven and earth to advance his own interests, which he knows how to make appear as the will of God, even to the point of using force against the decrees of the princes. Now a biblical proverb will suffice to arm the ignorant masses with fire and sword against the monarch. Now for the glory of God one may renounce obedience to a leader who still exercises his law-giving power in the name of this God. Now for the glory of God one may even throttle hundreds of thousands of one's brothers who do not want to betray their legitimate rulers for the sake of the interests of a few greedy individuals. Now no enterprise is so rash, no crime so unnatural, that one should not at every moment be ready to perpetrate it. And so it is precisely a lack of enlightenment that makes even the best monarchs insecure on their throne. Wasn't the Middle Ages—the epoch of ignorance and superstition—a long string of centuries with one uprising following another? What does the history of these times yield other than rebellions of the subjects against their kings, fanatical civil wars, and plunders, murders, and atrocities of every kind? In short, the history of every age gives us examples of revolutions which were made possible only by the lack of enlightenment.2
France itself—had it been truly enlightened—would either never have begun its revolution or else certainly have carried it out better. Not the parroting of a single great writer, but rather knowledge acquired through one's own activity, makes one truly enlightened. And for a nation to be called fully enlightened, such knowledge must be possessed not merely by a few individuals, but rather by the majority of the population and especially by those who are entrusted with the education of the nation. However, in France the clergy and the people were far too estranged from one another to be enlightened, and far more divided between superstition and nonbelief. The French farmer was far behind our own peasants in good principles. Among the French bishops there were no longer any Fenelons or Bossuets.3 In most cases the education of their seminarians was the least of their concerns. They believed they had done enough if they left their teaching posts to hirelings and spent the income of their churches in Paris. Thus the priesthood and the people fell to ruin. Even the gruesome deeds before which mankind shuddered show the corruption of the people as a whole. A cultured people distinguishes itself through gentle mores and good principles.
It is surely true that enlightenment accustoms men to reasonable thinking and, on the whole, also makes them freer and more candid; but to fear popular uprisings from enlightenment would be the greatest folly. For surely, simple reasoning over right and wrong, truth and error, benefit or harm, has yet to cause misery to anyone in the world. Reason and the proper employment of reason have always been recognized as the antidote to violent emotions. Where there is deliberation, passion is nearly impossible, and without passion rebellion is inconceivable. A man who philosophizes by the hearth about the state certainly will not resolve, on the basis of this philosophizing, to start a rebellion. What kind of terrible force must be set in motion before the endurance of a people, who had always been accustomed to servitude and harsh treatment, bursts through its limits? What kind of violent tension and turmoil must overcome men and how universally must this turmoil spread through the entire nation before a rebellion against the monarch can take place? Whoever has even the least bit of human understanding knows that rebellion is not possible without the most fearsome passion, and knows that this oppressive passion, which would outrage an entire nation against its princes, could only arise from two sources: either from fanaticism or from an oppression overwhelming all the endurance of the people.
Never—never can or will an enlightened people do something so alarming, so shocking to love of self and to reason, as to rebel against their princes.
But the pseudoenlightenment, which was almost continuously in fashion before the revolutionary era and which did, in part, contribute to the French Revolution, should be opposed by every fair writer who is committed to virtue and to the welfare of mankind, as should that vanity which wishes to call it “enlightened” if one mocks, doubts, and speaks with arrogant selfassurance about everything others hold sacred and venerable. Certainly this may be expected from Germany's writers, if but once their reading public were weaned from the fashionable books which, along with vices and principles of licentious living, were borrowed from prerevolutionary France as the only school of taste.
It is impossible that reason, if practiced at thinking for oneself and inseparable from morality, could be the source of any malady. On the contrary, it is the only thing which gives humanity its dignity. However, if reason is degraded to being a slave of sensuality and deluded into being the servant of vice, it can only put forward fallacies. It says that the end justifies the means, it considers itself alone as an end and considers everything around it, including human dignity in others, as mere means to its goal.
Enlightenment shows the thinking man that social life is not mere license [Willkür] and chance agreement but rather that it is a duty, for if man isolates himself from his fellow man, for whatever reason, he robs himself of the opportunity for his own development and moral improvement and hence does not attain the dignity that he must have in his own eyes and in the eyes of the Lord. Enlightenment teaches that the social bond between men opens a theater and sphere of action for virtue and that virtue is the highest goal and the foundation of social relations. The enlightened person is fully convinced that the law of virtue must precede every society, that one must first be a good person in order to be a good citizen. Because virtue would have no sphere of activity if there were no society, the commitment to virtue requires that man enter into society. If no impulse existed in man to express his freedom according to rational laws, and consequently to act according to a conception of general rules, there never would have developed a stable human society, nor could such a society ever develop. Men would gather and disperse like animals, depending on the accidental needs of the moment, and nothing would be known of duty. Reason is at work, however, far earlier and lets the traces of its own power be known before man becomes conscious of it and makes that which reason indicates to him into law.
The enlightened person thus regards the highest possible degree of morality and refinement of the nation as the ultimate goal of the state and thereby blocks the single and exclusive source which makes possible each and every disorder in human society and rebellion against the state: selfishness. It is an almost universal error, strongly active in all hearts, that posits mere happiness as the highest object of our endeavors and which either completely overlooks moral cultivation or wishes to pursue it only for the sake of happiness, that is, in the service of egoism. The result of this is that every calculation of happiness, especially when it is generalized, in the end comes to naught. Nowhere, however, are these maxims of prudence more inappropriate than where the welfare of the whole state is at stake. Here the pursuit of the interest of individuals necessarily leads the whole to disaster. The history of ancient and modern times supplies sufficient testimony to this.
If, however, man views the state as an organization for the promotion of his morality, then with reverence and deep respect he will observe those same laws against which his self-interest so gladly makes objections.
The enlightened person is convinced that no state can be completely perfect. It can only approach that ideal through endless stages of perfection. A state which takes itself as having achieved perfection must be about to fall again. But mankind as well can climb only step-by-step toward its refinement. Therefore, a popular rebellion and insurrection could not possibly be the means to alter even the worst form of government. It takes a long period of preparation before a state can ascend to a notable height and perfection. What was the reason that the immortal emperor Joseph was able to attain so few of his goals despite his excellent intentions?4 Nobody can dispute his high degree of insight, his quick powers of comprehension, and his noble resolve to improve his state. He also found the right place where the problem lay and the proper means to implement his decision. He wanted to refine his people and make them happy. Thus he directed his attention to the education of the youth and the improvement of finances. He sought to eliminate errors and root out prejudices. But he found out that as noble and generous as his intentions were, his people were not sufficiently prepared. Many still drank milk while he set before them a much stronger brew. Moreover, he proceeded too hastily. He held the light of the midday sun before the eyes of those recovering from a cataract. Is it any wonder they became more blinded than enlightened? He wanted to complete by himself work which was only possible over several generations and therefore he rushed his noble plans.
A government can and should approach the ideal of a perfect national constitution and legislation only gradually, though incessantly. Such a constitution would flow from the original worth and purpose of mankind; it would view every citizen as an end in itself and would enact only laws through which the general welfare is achieved. These laws should be such that everyone who has the desire and ability to fathom them obeys them willingly; they follow morality and natural law, are derived from wisdom, and are administered with justice. The approach to this ideal of a perfected national constitution goes on forever, and all efforts to attain it will always fall short. That is precisely why it would never occur to a reasonable man that the path to it can be stormed by violent revolutions. But neither should man recoil disheartened because this good, determined by his transcendent nature, soars too high for him ever to attain it. Far be it that the immeasurable distance to idealized human greatness and political perfection discourages us or makes us timid; it is precisely the infinity of perfection prescribed to both which must fill the soul with greater courage and loftier plans. It must teach man that his being extends as far as the goal is set for him, and that the state should continue to perfect itself so long as it has not achieved the ideal of its constitution. Both the human race and its earthly constitution must be regarded as destined for all eternity to an infinite process of perfection. The state, just like man, has neither a resting place nor a stopping point. It requires continuous efforts, not only to preserve what is present, but to work toward a higher and higher inner perfection.
One must never forget that mankind is in a state of continual growth and, through rational self-activity, ought always advance to a higher level. Likewise, the state also constantly develops according to its internal vitality and external relations. It can never reach the point where it can look down on itself, as it were, from its summit and smugly do nothing more than be content with itself, admire its strength and solidity, and enjoy what is reached. The vain delusion already to be perfect has brought many a man to his misery and many a state to its downfall. As the old saying goes, “He who stands pat should watch out that he doesn't fall.”
That humanity advances only through constant activity, only through keeping up its steady diligence and attentiveness, is a truth that must be taken to heart above all else. Not through passivity and idle consumption, but rather through active progress can mankind achieve its goals.
Man, who finds himself unrelentingly called to strive for morality, has an eternal object of his self-activity in this striving. For its own sake morality requires subjective culture of man, that is, the development and application of all his talents and abilities. The object of that culture is man himself and the nature which surrounds him. Consequently, morality requires an endless, universal, and ever-increasing culture of man and of the nature which concerns him. The sensible world is completely in tune with this rule, which flows from the spiritual nature of man, so that the sensible world is sustained in its mechanism precisely according to that rule by which mankind should advance through self-activity. Rest and inactivity in nature could quite soon lead to a universal decay and pollution and thereby to the destruction of all things. Through activity and constant motion, however, the air and sea clean themselves, multitudes of creatures breathe inside and outside the bowels of the earth, plants grow, man lives, and everything advances and approaches its goal.
Enlightenment shows kings the only possible path by which violent revolutions can be avoided: always to keep pace with the culture of the nation. Or what is even more praiseworthy: always to lead the way on the road to perfection. The germ of gradual improvement lies deep and indestructible in all men's souls. No man who has viewed his nature with even half an eye can mistake this destiny. It is rooted in the nature of mankind and assigned by an apodictic law. And what the wise Creator has planted, man should not destroy. It will also certainly be impossible for any human power to thwart the plans of the Creator and to block forever the magnificent works of His power and wisdom. Here and there, one people after another awakens from its slumber and gradually moves beyond the rude barriers of animality. Thrice fortunate are they if a wise government shows them the way and extends a benevolent hand to the weak.
The progress of the nation, however, increases and rushes more quickly to its goal once the active spirit is first awakened in it and culture has won the land. This path of refinement may go through winding labyrinths: one moment interrupted, the next moving forward with renewed vigor. But the goal is and always remains the same: it gradually turns to morality and a common welfare based on it. The noble germ of human majesty which every now and then has flourished so splendidly in Europe, and borne such brilliant fruits, is certainly going to wake up in the rest of the world as well. Providence will find means and show ways which are now surely still in the wisdom of Him who is unfathomable.
The enlightened monarch will never lose track of the goal of his government: the improvement of the moral character of the nation. Each of his laws will be reasonable and will carry the stamp of inner necessity and universality. He will provide for the general welfare in accord with general maxims. He will cultivate the nation and bring all its powers to activity and circulation. He will promote the sciences and the arts, industry and agriculture. He will bring harmony and proportion to all sections of the citizenry: in all the rights they enjoy, in all the duties they have to perform, and in all the burdens they have to bear.
He will thus unfailingly prevent all violent insurrections and undesirable changes.
True enlightenment is therefore far removed from promoting violent revolutions. It is, on the contrary, the only way to work against them successfully. Enlightened subjects feel bound by their own reason to subject themselves to every proper order, to obey the laws, and to respect the executive power of the state; to remain true to their duties within their professional and business circles and to do everything possible for themselves and their fellow man. Likewise, the enlightened monarch considers it his holy duty to work through public institutions and legislation so that the noble germ of morality grows more and more in his nation. He is the father of his people; goodness rings from his lips and justice strengthens his arm. The most talented are his aides and conscientiousness is their honor.
Thus love becomes the bond which connects the sovereign and his subjects, and obedience is a willing sacrifice to the laws. No offense, no rebellion, no fear, no threats are to be found.—Armed might is used only against crime, and wrath lashes out only against misdeeds.—The wise prince becomes creator and lord of a noble and happy nation.
NOTES
1. Tieftrunk's definition of enlightenment combines Kant's maxim “think for yourself” with Mendelssohn's discussion of the relationship between enlightenment and the “destiny of man.” Note, however, that unlike Mendelssohn, Tieftrunk saw no tensions between the destiny of man as man and the destiny of man as citizen.—TRANS
2. The rebellion in the Netherlands-which greeted with so much ingratitude the untiring endeavor for virtue and human happiness of Joseph 11, the father of his peoples-serves here as the most recent example. [In 1789, the Estates-General of the Austrian Netherlands (which roughly corresponds to modern-day Belgium and Luxembourg), opposing Joseph 11's anticlerical reforms, declared Joseph deposed and proclaimed the republic of the United States of Belgium.-TRANS.].
3. Franqois Ftnelon (1651-1715), archbishop of Cambrai, was a leading spokesman for the Quietist movement and the author of the widely circulated Explications des maximes des saints. His former patron, and eventual critic, Jacques Bossuet (1627-1704), was bishop of Condom, tutor to the dauphin, and author of the Discourse on Universal History. Both were men of immense moral and intellectual stature in seventeenth-century France.-TRANS.
4. Joseph 11 of Austria (1 780-1 790).-TRANS