Of The Best Kind of Sovereignty
The question ‘What absolutely is the best government?’ is unanswerable as well as indeterminate; or rather, there are as many good answers as there are possible combinations in the absolute and relative situations of all nations.1
This observation of Rousseau’s does not admit of any reply, and he has devoted half of his book to refuting the other half; but, in truth, he has taken too much trouble, these few lines were enough.
He saw very well that it was never necessary to ask what the best government is in general, since there is not one that suits all peoples. Each nation has its own, as it has its own language and character, and this government is the best for it.
Hence it obviously follows that the whole theory of the social contract is a juvenile fantasy.
It cannot be repeated often enough: “There are as many good governments as there are possible combinations in the absolute and relative positions of peoples.”
Since none of these combinations depends on men, it follows that the consent of the people plays no part in the formation of governments.
But if it is asked by what sign we may know that a given people is well or ill governed, that is another matter, and the question, being one of fact, admits of an answer.2
It could not be better said: the question is never to know which government is the best, but which people is best governed according to the principles of its government.
It is precisely this question, the only reasonable one, that Rousseau has treated with his usual flippancy.
“What,” he asks, “is the end of political association? The preservation and prosperity of its members.”
So far, so good.
“And what,” he continues, “is the surest mark that they”—the members of the body politic—“preserve and prosper? Their numbers and population. Seek then nowhere else this mark that is in dispute. The rest being equal, the government under which, without external aids, without naturalisation or colonies, the citizens increase and multiply most, is beyond question the best. The government under which a people wanes and diminishes is the worst. Calculators, it is left for you to count, to measure, to compare.”3
There is nothing so superficial, nothing so dubious, nothing so poorly reasoned as this whole piece.
Rousseau has just said that one cannot ask “What is the best government”, that the question is unanswerable as well as indeterminate. And now, in the same chapter, he tells us that the best government is the one that populates the most, and that the worst is the one under which a people diminishes and declines; there is, therefore, an absolute good and bad government. Let us agree, if it even be possible, with Rousseau himself.
Will it be said that, in the second part of the chapter, he does not compare one nation with another nation, but a nation with itself, considering it at different times?
In this supposition, Rousseau wants to say that when a people multiplies, it is a sign that it is well governed, and that if this people declines, it is a sign that it is badly governed: that is to say, in the first case one follows, and in the second one violates, the principles of government which is best for this given people. Very good! But in this case, it must be admitted that the statement of such a trivial truth is an absurdity most rare, and this absurdity becomes truly transcendent when one considers that this beautiful discovery is preceded by a haughty reproach addressed to all the publicists who have not wished to agree to this infallible rule for judging governments.4
In a word, if Rousseau wants to say that there are essentially bad governments that kill men, and others that are essentially good that multiply them, he is talking nonsense, and he is obviously contradicting himself. If he means that a given people is badly governed when it declines or languishes at the lowest ebb of population, and that it is well governed, on the contrary, when its population increases or sustains itself at the highest level, he is talking nonsense: the choice is yours. One may conclude, moreover, from what Rousseau says about population, that he was as profound in political economy as in metaphysics, history, and morality.
Population is not the unique thermometer of the prosperity of states; it must be combined with the well-being and richness of the people; the population must be rich and available. A people whose population is raised to the highest possible degree, and whose every individual consequently possesses only the bare necessities, would be a weak and unhappy people; the least political upheaval would overwhelm it with calamities. A nation of fifteen million men can be not only happier, which is obvious, but more powerful than another nation of twenty million: this is what economists have perfectly proved, and Mr. Young has just confirmed it by new observations in a work which is equally valuable for the truths it establishes and for the errors it retracts.5
1 Contrat social, 3, IX.
2 Contrat social, 3, IX.
3 Contrat social, 3, IX.
4 “For my part, I am continually astonished that a mark so simple is not recognised, or that men are of so bad faith as not to admit it. What is the end of political association? The preservation and prosperity of its members. And what is the surest mark of their preservation and prosperity? Their numbers and population. Seek then nowhere else this mark that is in dispute.” (Contrat social, 3, IX)
5 Voyage agronomique de France (Arthur Young, Travels in France during the Years 1787, 1788 and 1789).