Chapter 11


Political Culture


The strongest is never strong enough

to be always the master, unless

he transforms strength into right.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau


The crucial fact of man's capacity to exploit human and natural energy led us to inquire about the socio-political nature of energy. Power emerged as the raw material giving cultures their impulse and propelling their socio-political flux. The closing words of our preceding chapter on power converged toward and complemented the concluding notes of Chapter Eight, suggesting that the combinations and conflicts of power complexes, each with its particular identity, interests and rationales, do not necessarily follow any predetermined direction. The implication is that if there is a sense of organization or course for a social flux, it depends on the consciousness of the power complexes involved and their tendencies.


You may also recall that in our studies of value systems and norms we saw that the heterogeneity of value systems within a social context could reduce the efficacy of their particular moral norms and lead them, if they were to coexist, to patterns of ethical norms, and beyond them to the institution of legal norms backed by coercive sanctions. You will notice that this normative evolution also converges towards our present discussion of power and the consciousness of power complexes as a prerequisite for social organization. For when value systems upholding particular interests compete and conflict, the power they generate may be drained. To avoid that possibility, they have to compromise and cooperate in establishing rules, processes and institutions, providing norms of orderly conduct and a course of action in their coexistence, interactions and transactions.


In other words, while power, if not properly integrated, can cause social and political disruptions, when harnessed it can be the source of social order and organization. The harnessing of power provides direction for the sociopolitical flux. But it takes power to harness power, giving rise to the question as to which is power--that which is harnessed or that which harnesses? Political culture is precisely that aspect of a social flux which permits the circumvention of this paradox and, by transforming one dimension of power into authority, makes it possible for powers to cohabit.[1]


Interaction and Interpenetration of Power complexes


Within the social flux, the combination of different dimensions of a culture creates power complexes with different emphases and characteristics. For example, such powers as an industrial corporation, a church, or a military organization may coexist. The industrial corporation's basis of power is mainly its possession of means. Industry involves an interaction between human endeavor and the natural environment, i.e., manipulating matter and producing means as one of the components of power. The church has spiritual power which it maintains mainly by persuasion and influence. The army's power may be broadly identified as force and coercive potentials. Such schematizations are obviously incomplete and could be misleading, for these power structures, while separately identifiable, fade and shade into each other and into many others. Both the church and the army run on the means that, in the form of wealth and production, the industrial corporation provides. The church and the corporation employ disciplinary and organizational methods similar to those of the army, and they also depend on the latter for their security, while the army and the corporation depend on the faith inculcated by the church for their cohesion and moral and ethical standards.


Besides these interdependencies and interpenetrations, the powers in our example compete or cooperate in overlapping spheres. The farmer, a supplier to all three, is a potential client or worker for the industrial corporation, a believer for the church, a recruit for the army. If he fell overwhelmingly or exclusively within one sphere, he would, to that extent, become a potential instrument for that power. For example, the individual who becomes a devout and fanatic believer in a religion or an ideology, although he may still provide labor for industry or serve in an army, is a more potent instrument in the hands of his church or ideological organization which can dictate his behavior in the industry or the army. A man who allies his interests primarily with his corporation may overlook the religious precepts he is supposed to uphold, or may use the army to advance his corporation. And a soldier properly disciplined by the army may take over or wreck both the church and industry to win a battle.


The above instances suggest that, as power complexes which interdepend and interpenetrate also clash and compete, there must be some understanding, laws, patterns of relationship and norms of conduct to which they could subscribe for more or less orderly interactions. Such understandings will not come about until the contesting powers become conscious of not only their own power but also that of their contenders and its nature. That is, they must first realize that they cannot overrun the adversaries or that if they did, their natures would be so incompatible that the chunk they had swallowed would be indigestible, might obstruct their own system and cause their demise. Or they may see that the existence of other power complexes distinct from theirs can complement and balance to their advantage.


In a way, politics is the reality of this interplay of powers and eloquently portrays the not always systematic, not always organic, not always spiritual, and not always historically determined nature of the adjustments and maladjustments of power complexes; for, in their relativity and subjectivity, poker complexes would not continue with any identifiable autonomy in the human sense if, once and for all, they could systematically and rationally fit and be fitted together, making them part of a whole, functioning according to instinctive reflexes or mechanical laws. The move toward balance and equilibrium by contending powers is not always an end in itself but a subjective and reluctant compromise.


I. Conversion of Power into Authority


We can trace to the earliest known social context the dynamics and fermentations which, in the course of power interactions and interpenetrations, have resulted in the understandings, norms of conduct and structures identified as authority. We are using the term "authority" broadly at this stage to mean the recognition by the parties involved of the validity of certain norms and their binding effects on their mutual relations. The earliest human associations had rules of conduct which evolved not only from the basic human similitude attraction and gregariousness, but also from their accompanying inhibitions, fears and expectations. "If I do it to him he will do it to me" or "if I do it today he may do it tomorrow": such conclusions drawn from accumulated observations and experiences can lead to mutually understood standards of conduct, from moral and ethical norms to legal norms. But, as we have seen, the antagonists may also be inclined to do what they can today before their antagonists do it tomorrow. Thus, there will soon arise a need to define what is supposed to be the standard of action among the power complexes involved.


Where powers have autonomous spheres with comparatively little overlapping and interpenetration and little inclination to bind and commit their destinies to each other, the arrangements may remain simply as mutual guarantees, depending on the precarious balance of power, as has often been the case with international relations among sovereign states. When the powers involved have fluid, interpenetrating spheres and interwoven, interdependent activities--and this includes almost all social relations, from interpersonal and intergroup to some international relations (those between closely related sovereign states, such as the European Common Market)--the arrangements include not only norms of conduct but also responsible bodies--persons and institutions--vested with the authority to enforce orderly interaction. There will thus evolve, superimposed (figuratively speaking), a power capping the interacting powers, recognized by them as having the prerogative to arbitrate, moderate, administer or supervise (depending on the nature of their relations) their intercourse.[2]


It is, of course, likely that the ensuing arrangements will be concomitant with the power magnitude of the different complexes involved, reflecting a hierarchy.[3]  So, while establishing standards of recognition for the respective spheres and competences, the authoritative arrangements will also tend to regulate and limit power fluctuations, at least in the areas where the powers overlap. This implies that the established authority tends to perpetuate the prevailing order of magnitude of the powers involved--a fact which in itself, depending on how flexible or rigid the arrangements are, can inhibit certain powers. It can also cause friction among the powers if provisions for adjustments commensurate with their future dynamics and expansion are not incorporated into the arrangements. Thus, with some lag-because the established order may continue beyond the point of change in the magnitude of the powers--some of the powers may challenge the established authority. If the authority is maintained only by the mutual agreement of balancing powers, once some of those powers have ceased to recognize that authority, it will need to be readapted to the new balance. It will, most probably, be upheld by the powers with vested interests in it, and if they are strong enough to make it prevail over the challengers, or if the authority itself has means of imposing itself (which amounts to the same thing), it will prevail. But that authority would be on the verge of turning into power.


Herein lies the distinction between power and authority, hinging on the degree to which a hierarchy of rights, competences, obligations and obediences is imposed by imminent and constant external pressure (power), or is recognized, adhered to and internalized as a matter of course (authority) by the components of the hierarchy. In the extreme authority is a power that is not challenged and does not need to use coercion. Its subjects follow its directions because what it directs is right--not only in the legal sense of "a right," but also in the valuational sense. The doctor who tells you to take two aspirins to cure your headache is an authority on the subject and is "right" because you believe that if you follow his instructions, your headache will be cured.


But even at this stage the doctor's authority is not without power. His authority is based on the reputation that a physician knows about matters of health. You remember that, as we noted in the last chapter, reputation is a source of power. In a way, however, the society has bestowed this authority upon the doctor, either by permitting him and giving him grounds to build his reputation, and/or by creating institutions and procedures by virtue of which he gets his diploma to practice medicine--his "right" in the legal sense. This is probably the nearest we can get to an authority with camou­flaged power and an absence of pressures and coercive measures. Your acceptance of the doctor's prescription is, of course, evidence of your conditioning toward his authority. You have come to recognize the value of experience and knowledge and, on the basis of that recognition, consider the doctor competent.


This essentially has been the premise for the recognition of the primus inter pares (the first among equals) ever since the primeval stages of social organization. When the Eskimo tribe assigns the leadership of a hunting expedition to the hunter who, according to tribal standards, is most quali­fied, it recognizes him as an authority. His authority, however, is due not simply to the fact that he is the best hunter, but that the tribe has assigned him the leadership. Authority has an attributive character. In other words, it has one dimension over power. The patient follows the doctor's prescription not in a simple, bilateral channel, but within a triangular pattern of which one side is the patient, the second the doctor, and the third the social context which has made medical advice desirable for the patient and has recognized the doctor as the holder of medical knowledge.


We call this third dimension the legitimization of power into authority. If the leader of the hunting expedition is not appointed by the tribe but imposes his leadership by force and others follow him for fear of reprisals, he is exerting power, not exercising authority. As the third dimension, legitimization is the element that stabilizes the power/authority configura­tion, giving it a social rationale in the minds of its subjects, and thus, with their acquiescence and support, making it more resistant to internal or external threats. The third dimension legitimizing authority does not need to come from an outside source (although, as we shall see later, that is convenient) such as the tribe, but can be generated by the two dimensions (the domineering and the dominated) within the power complex. The hunting expedition can itself elect a leader whose commands the members of the group follow not because they are coerced but because they accept the instituted authority. Even those who may not otherwise accept the command of the leader will now abide by it, despite their own inclinations, because the group recognizes leadership. Of course, the group may also choose the leader because he threatens usurpation if he is not elected. By electing him, the group may thus connive to condition the powerful and inhibit his arbitrary exercise of power, setting, at the same time, a precedent for certain behavior.


Essentially, we are presented with an authority/power spectrum where at one end the process of legitimization greatly subdues the power characteristics of the authority, as in the case of the doctor's authority, while at the other extreme legitimization barely disguises power as authority. Within that spectrum, legitimization is the feat by which different political cultures transform the power fibers of the social flux into authority. And it is indeed a feat: Consider for a moment that man has a domination drive, but also the social drives for order and justice. These latter are sought by men and by power complexes--men in the social context--to secure a reasonable degree of predictability for their freedom of action and attainment of their goals. To bring about order and justice, there must be norms: moral, ethical and legal (laws, in the general sense). To have laws we need authority. But to have authority, we need to legitimize power--through laws! (See Fig. 11-01.)


Fig. 11-01


To comprehend the tour de force of legitimization of power into authority and its variations within different social contexts, we need to look again at some of the social phenomena examined. First, we have to recognize that the basic ingredients remain power and the general tendency of power complexes, in their coexistence and interaction, toward some arrangements for order. Of course, in particular circumstances during the passage from one order to another, certain power complexes may instead seek chaos and confusion. We then have to look for the concoctions of powers bringing about the third dimension of the triangle that converts power into authority. This may take place either through a separate power acting as the third side of the triangle, such as the church legitimizing a ruler's power, or by the develop­ment within a power complex of a third dimension of recognition and accept­ance between the submitting and dominating hierarchies. A constitution exemplifies the latter case.


Some power complexes, because of the composition of their sources, are more apt to act as legitimizing agents than others. The church, for instance, with its emphasis on belief, can more efficiently inculcate its followers to consider a secular power legitimate, than a military power controlling a population can impose the authority of a given belief--although the possi­bility of the latter case should not be excluded. It is simply a question of degrees. The early Mohammedan armies did convert the conquered people by the force of arms and heavy taxation of the unbelievers; and although the early non-Arab Moslems probably adhered to that religion for financial convenience and fear for their lives, eventually the continuation of Arab domination perpetuated the Islamic faith in many of the conquered lands and established it as an authority.


In general terms, the sources of power that are efficacious and instrumental in legitimization are those that find their way to the "inside" of man: his brain, his heart, his glands and his stomach. It is difficult to identify the specific appeals to each particular sector. That is why in Chapter Three we elaborated our affectional/functional spectrum. When within a power complex the domineering hierarchy appeals to the individual's feelings (his heart, in the popular sense), these feelings arouse him (by glandular secretions?) through evocation of certain established internal patterns (in his brain)--patterns which may not be rational--remember our discussion of values and symbolic systems. A rationale--an appeal to man's rationality (his brain)--supporting the prevailing order should also have a functional base such as the satisfaction of material needs (keeping his stomach full) and some comforts (glandular, either. in the positive sense of feeling pleasure or the negative sense of fearing and avoiding pain).


Thus, the range of appeals to man's "inside" has a gradation from "deep inside" to "nearly outside"; from the man who believes--or is made to believe--by persuasion and inculcation, or rationally accepts and partici­pates in a social order, to the man who goes along because he is materially rewarded to do so or fears the consequences of noncompliance. At the extreme "outside," the domineering factor in a power complex imposes itself by sheer force, means and position, and in so far as it does not penetrate, it is constantly resisted without even developing a continuous and predict­able fear pattern within those it dominates. The dominated may sometimes fear a clash with its superior but may not internalize it as a pattern of behavior towards that power. The Yugoslav partisan in World War II did not accept the authority of the German occupation and challenged its power. The German occupation forces had not managed to appeal to any sector of the partisan's "inside."


We may, in summary, retain three main interrelated dimensions in the conversion of power into authority; namely, 1) the relative non-coerced recognition factor; 2) the "third" attributive dimension in the triangle of legitimization, either provided by a separate power or developed within the power complex between the domineering and dominated factors; and 3) the complementary condition for the above two of some penetration of the authoritative pattern either through affectional and belief dispositions or functional rationales. Considering the legitimization process in the light of penetration and noncoerced recognition we may envision two broad--and obviously interpenetrating--patterns for the conversion of power into authority, which we shall identify as consecration and constitutionalization.[4]




Consecration is the more nonrational, valuational and affectional pattern. Within it are two further interacting dimensions we may identify as the spiritual and the traditional. The spiritual has been the most recurrent and most persistent of the legitimizing factors of authority. In the words of Machiavelli:


In truth, there never was any remarkable lawgiver amongst any people who did not resort to divine authority, as otherwise his laws would not have been accepted by the people; for there are many good laws, the importance of which is known to the sagacious lawgiver, but the reasons for which are not sufficiently evident to enable him to persuade others to submit to them; and therefore do wise men, for the purpose of removing this difficulty, resort to divine authority.[5]


Hobbes put it this way:


And therefore the first Founders, and Legislators of Common-wealths amongst the Gentiles, whose ends were only to keep the people in obedience, and peace, have in all places taken care; First, to imprint in their minds a beliefe, that those precepts which they gave concerning Religion, might not be thought to proceed from their own device, but from the dictates of some God, or other Spirit; or else that they themselves were of a higher nature than mere mortalls that their Lawes might the more easily be received: So Numa Pompilius pretended to receive the Ceremonies he instituted amongst the Romans, from the Nymph Egeria: and the first King and founder of the Kingdome of Peru, pretended himselfe and his wife to be the children of the Sunne: and Mahomet, to set up his new Religion, pretended to have conferences with the Holy Ghost, in forme of a Dove. Secondly, they have had a care, to make it believed, that the same things were displeasing to the Gods, which were forbidden by the Lawes. Thirdly, to prescribe Ceremonies, Supplications, Sacrifices, and Festivalls, by which they were to believe, the anger of the Gods might be appeased; and that ill success in War, great contagions of Sicknesse, Earthquakes, and each mans private Misery, came from the Anger of the Gods; and their Anger from the Neglect of their Worship, or the forgetting, or mistaking some point of the Ceremonies required.[6]


This power of the holders of faith to consecrate authority becomes more evident when we realize that the pivotal premise for legitimizing power into authority is valuational. Power remains "power" as long as its doings are identified as selfinterest-oriented. Recognition of power by holders of faith sublimates it into authority. An authority is presumed not to act only for its own good but for the good of those it is ordering and administering. The belief system, of course, as long as it exists, is the supreme consecration. Authority is so much the more authority when the good it administers is ordained by a supreme author whose dictates are the standard for both the ruler and the ruled. However, the good of the ruler and that of the ruled may have been standardized differently, sometimes drastically so, so that according to the supreme author the ruler gets nearly everything, while the ruled barely subsist.


From the mana of the chief in the primeval society to "so help me God" in the presidential pledge of the United States, authority is accompanied by the consecration of the supernatural. The call of the U. S. President for help is, of course, a much attenuated case of consecration and, as we shall see later, can better be identified as constitutionalization.[7]  But the belief institution is a potent and efficacious value-forming agency, and secular social and political powers seek its support and collusion. As of the fourth millenium B. C., the pharaohs of Egypt were identified as the living reincarnations of the gods. In Sumer the gods ruled through their representations on earth by the corporation of priests and the secular rulers. We said that the third side of the triangle of legitimization could be contained in the nature of the relationship between the dominating and dominated, and a good instance of this occurs when the spiritual power is also vested with the secular authority in the theocratic sense, as was the case in Sumer, in Tibet until recently, and still is in the Vatican State. These are clear examples of theocracy or rule by god, with his spiritual servants fulfilling the secular duties on his behalf.


Studying the pre-Columbian cultures of the Andes and Mexico, Julian Steward speculated that


...the increasing population and the growing need for political integration very probably would have created small states in each area, and these states would almost certainly have been strongly theocratic, because the supernatural aspects of farming -- for example, fertility concepts, the need to reckon seasons and to forecast the rise and fall of rivers, and the like -- would have placed power in the hands of religious leaders.[8]


By empirical standards, Steward's statement may sound too deterministic. Not every reliance of authority on spiritual and supernatural premises turns into theocracy. The early political structures of Egypt and China, which developed under similar conditions, were not strictly theocratic, although they were strongly dependent on the supernatural for the legitimization of their authority.


In legitimizing power into authority, consecration may also draw on tradition. What qualifies the spiritual and the traditional as consecrating factors is their affectional, nonrational dimension. This common characteristic may sometimes make the identification of one or the other source of consecration difficult, because they intermingle. In China and Japan we find cases where the legitimizing dimension for converting power into authority was developed within the traditional rather than the spiritual context. Although not strictly theocratic, this development was based on the concept of the unity of religion and the state. The earliest native Japanese chronicles, Records of Ancient Matters (Kojiki) and Chronicles of Japan (Nihongi), written in 712 and 720 A. D. respectively, were apparently compiled with a view to substantiating the political claims of the Japanese ruling dynasty, formulating the history of Japan along the Chinese traditional patterns. As Tsunoda, de Bary and Keene put it:


As for the assumption of absolute powers, which made the Japanese king a divine emperor (Tenno), it plainly derives from the already fully developed autocracy of China, justified by the Mandate of Heaven. The successive steps taken toward the establishment of a strong central government reflect Japanese adherence to the Chinese concept of the sovereign as the possessor of the Mandate of Heaven. Prince Sholoku's Constitution, the Taika Reforms, the adoption of Chinese legal and bureaucratic institutions, were all intended to strengthen the claims of the emperor to being a true Son of Heaven, a polar star about whom the Lesser celestial Luminaries turned.[9]


Traditional consecration implies continuity, an element used to justify hereditary monarchies. Traditional continuity, however, is more than a hereditary claim to authority. It may englobe monarchy but supersede heredity. When in 1924 the Persian Prime Minister, Reza Khan, tried to establish a republic to overthrow the reigning dynasty, his attempt was frustrated by strong religious and traditional opposition.[10]  Yet a year later he ousted that dynasty and was enthroned as Reza Shah, beginning the Pahlevi dynasty. In 1971 his son, Mohammed Reza Shah, celebrated the 2,500th anniversary of monarchy in Iran (despite the numerous vicissitudes of different dynasties of domestic and foreign origins since the monarchy was formed in that country), to emphasize the traditional continuity of rule in Iran.


Although they intermingle, the distinction between the spiritual and traditional aspects of consecration are helpful for analyzing the evolutions of certain political cultures, notably those where a power tries to maintain itself without a traditional foothold. It is not possible to become part of a tradition without the temporal dimension but the recognition of the spiritual dimensions of a traditional culture can provide a back door for legitimizing a power into authority over an alien culture. Cyrus, the Persian Emperor, in his charter of 539 B. C., paid tribute to the Babylonian god Marduk, which was his way of claiming succession from the Babylonian kings.


Inversely, where no well-established spiritual doctrine upholds a ruler's authority and provides predictable patterns of behavior for the subjects, the secular powers may seek to have one developed. In 990, Vladimir, King of the Russians, converted his people en masse to Christianity. Legend says Vladimir reviewed several religions and finally chose the Greek Orthodox. He discarded Judaism and Islam because they prohibited eating pork and drinking wine--conditions difficult to fulfill in Russia. He chose Greek Orthodoxy so the Russian church would fall under the canonical authority of the Patriarch of Constantinople rather than the Church of Rome, which he considered too strong and too meddlesome in the political affairs of secular powers.


This last point leads us to the underlying political complexities of consecration by a separate power in the legitimization of authority. Although Vladimir would probably have opted for the Greek church anyway because Russians had a closer knowledge of it, his alleged political considerations reveal the rivalry between the spiritual and temporal powers. The pages of history are full of church and state conflicts, competitions, combinations and cooperations. The high priests of Amon finally sat on the throne of Egypt (1090-945 B. C.), while the Libyan princes became the high priests of Amon (ca. 850 B. C.). Speaking of the Brahmins of India, Thapar says:


The priests were not slow to realize the significance of-the supreme authority which could be invested in the highest caste: They not only managed to usurp position by claiming that they alone could bestow divinity on the king, but they also gave religious sanctions to caste divisions.[11]


Where the spiritual and traditional dimensions of the society develop patterns independent of each other, the triangularity of consecration becomes more apparent, and the combination of the three components of the power/ authority complex, i.e., the domineering and dominated dimensions of power and the legitimizing factor, can give rise to different political cultures. It is understandable that the power serving as the legitimizing dimension can itself develop claims to authority, which raises the possibility of rivalries and the tendency of the powers to seek legitimizing processes not dependent on other powers which can unduly hamper them. The partnership of church and state in Western Europe is not only a plastic illustration of the spiritual and traditional dimensions of consecration, and the struggles of church and state for supremacy, but its historical evolution leads us to the other aspect of legitimization of power into authority, namely, constitutionalization. The history of Europe, from the decline of the Roman Empire to the emergence of the Holy Roman Empire, was a tapestry woven with threads of two traditions--the Roman and the Germanic--and one belief, Christianity. In that canvas the spiritual served as a carrier between the two traditions; and the three in their conflicts, compromises and accommodations shaped Western culture. We can trace most of our modern laws, customs, institutions and ideologies to that tapestry. Let us, then, make an incursion into that history and the political thoughts and realities it begot.


*      *      *


In 312, in a Roman Empire that had persecuted Christians for centuries and had nearly developed a belief that its emperors were gods, one of those emperors became a Christian. Constantine was converted, it is said, after having a vision of the cross before a battle. The fact that ever greater numbers of the Roman population were embracing Christianity, and that claiming the same faith as his subjects was good statesmanship, may not have been totally outside Constantine's vision. In the manner of earlier Roman emperors asserting themselves as the embodiment of the cults of their times, he claimed to oversee the affairs of the church. In 325, he summoned and presided over the first ecumenical council. But the early Christian beliefs and the imperial traditions did not marry easily. In 380; Emperor Theodosius prohibited all public religious professions except Christianity, but later he was excommunicated until he repented for having ordered the massacre of some 7,000 citizens of Thessalonica in reprisal for a riot. He did repent, but the question as to whether the emperor was in the church of Christ and therefore subject to it or was instead above it remained unsettled.


In his City of God (413-427) St. Augustine propounded the theory of spiritual and temporal dualism. The spiritual world was represented by the heavenly city, the Christian church, which was concerned with the salvation of man's soul. The earthly city, represented by Rome, was the frame of man's mortal life. In his earthly city man, driven by passion, egoism and self-love, had to submit to law and government to maintain peace:


The earthly city, which does not live by faith, seeks an earthly peace, and the end it proposes, in the well-ordered concord of civic obedience and rule, is the combination of men's wills to attain the things which are helpful to this life. The heavenly city, or rather the part of it which sojourns on earth and lives by faith, makes use of this peace only because it must, until this mortal condition which necessitates it shall pass away.[12]


When, in 476 at Ravenna, Odoacer of the Germanic Herul tribes deposed Romulus Augustulus (traditionally the last of the Western Roman Emperors), he asked Emperor Zeno of the Eastern Roman Empire for the title of patrician. He sought a traditional rather than a spiritual consecration. The role of the church as a sovereign legitimizing body was still debatable. Zeno's claim in his Henoticon (482 A. D.) that the emperor (of the Eastern Roman Empire) had the right to define theological doctrine prompted Pope Gelasius to proclaim his independence from the secular power and to assert that "two swords" rule the Christian world, the sacerdotium and the imperium. "Christian emperors need bishops for the sake of eternal life, and bishops make use of imperial regulations to order the course of temporal affairs."[13]


In the centuries that followed, as the Western Roman Empire petered out, with disruptive barbarian invasions and settlements in Italy (passing some Christian bishoprics into barbarian territory) the Church of Rome with its bishop-the Pope--became more involved in secular affairs. By the sixth century, Gregory the Great (Pope, 590-604) assumed the role of emperor in the West, took care of the civil works, received pay from Constantinople for the army, appointed governors and directed generals. His missionary campaigns to convert the German people started the turn from the Greco-Roman tradition to the medieval Romano-German combination. Yet, although the Byzantine Emperor in Constantinople had little effective power on-the Italian peninsula, his authority lingered as the continuation of the traditional Roman Empire of which the church was considered a part.


In the eighth century when Pepin, the Carolingian, wanted to usurp the de­clining Frankish kingdom of the Merovingians, he faced a problem of legiti­macy which was partly related to this traditional structure of the Roman Empire. The founder of the dynasty he wanted to overthrow, Clovis (481-511), had received his title as patrician from the Roman Emperor. The legitimists considered Pepin a usurper when, on the advice of Pope Stephen II, and drawing on Frankish (German) tradition, he presented himself at the traditional electoral rites of the Franks and was proclaimed King in 752. The Pope, needing an ally to free himself from the authority of the Eastern Roman Empire and to cope with the threatening expansion of the Lombards in Italy, anointed Pepin Christian King of the Franks and Roman Patrician. (a title which could be legally bestowed only by the Emperor in Constantinople). By doing so, the Pope solidified his position as the temporal heir to the Roman Empire in Italy, thus claiming both spiritual and traditional prerogatives to legiti­mize Pepin's secular authority.


But in that alliance the traditional pattern of the old Germanic tribes was present. Its combination, cooperation and competition with the papal authority in Rome eventually developed a new political pattern in Europe.


Pepin's son Charlemagne further expanded the Frankish kingdom. In 795, the newly elected Pope Leo III sent Charlemagne the notification of his election with the key to St. Peter's and the banner of Rome. The notification, previously addressed only to the Byzantine emperors, assimilated Charlemagne to them, while the accompanying banner implied his recognition as a commander of the church and supreme judge of Rome. In 800, Charlemagne presided over a solemn tribunal in Rome to have Pope Leo III cleared of charges of perjury and adultery. At the Christmas prayers that year, Leo placed a crown on Charlemagne's head and proclaimed him Emperor. By so doing, Leo was provid­ing Rome with a new authority and himself with a new source of support, reviving the Western Roman Empire with its dual temporal and spiritual authorities--except that the traditional background of its temporal power shifted from Greco-Roman to Germanic.


While Charlemagne's conquests brought new flocks under the Pope's spiritual authority, he was also making it clear that the Pope was a vicar in his kingdom who was to "pray to God for the benediction of the Christian people," while the prince was "to govern the church of God and defend it from the wicked." He chose his title: "Charles, serenisime August, crowned by God, great and pacific emperor governing the Roman Empire, by God's misericord King of the Franks and the Lombards." Notice "crowned by God," suggesting that the Pope who crowned him was only an accessory of divine providence. Therein lay the ingredients which provided a basis for the concept that the temporal ruler was god's vice-regent by divine providence and, later, by divine right of kings. In the following centuries many popes claimed su­premacy because of their spiritual position and many kings denied it because of their secular authority, whose actuality was proof that divine providence rather than papal act was their essential legitimizing source. Thus, both the temporal and spiritual powers invoked divine consecration of their political authority to rule. The conflict had, of course, concrete political and economic aims such as the choice of bishops and their prerogatives, the ecclesiastical land holdings which increased through donations to the church and their taxation by the king of the land. But the challenge between church and state was often fought on legal and philosophical grounds.


By the thirteenth century, the legitimacy of the secular power on the basis of the divine right of kings began to have strong supporters. Dante (12651321), in his De Monarchia, concluded that "the authority of temporal monarchy descends, without mediation, from the fountain of universal authority."[14]  In other words, it comes directly from "divine providence," without need of the church's intermission. John of Paris used Aristotelian logic to show that the King of France is not bound by the Pope or the Emperor for his action on behalf of his kingdom.


The heated debate over the legitimacy of the spiritual and secular powers continued through the Renaissance and the Reformation, partly as cause and partly as consequence of those historical phenomena. As the disastrous religious conflicts dragged on and the powers of the Pope and the Emperor as the dual authorities of the faltering Holy Roman Empire lost effectiveness in maintaining peace and order, the divine right of kings received new impetus as the legitimizing source of monarchical power in the emerging political entities. The results were new clashes and conflicts, but also new power complexes and combinations culminating in the concept of sovereignty, to which we shall turn later. As for the protagonists of the divine right of kings, let us quote James I's speech of 1609:


Kings are justly called Gods, for that they exercise a manner or resemblance of divine power upon earth: ...they have power of raising, and casting down: of life, and of death: Judges over all their subjects, and in all causes, and yet accountable to none but God only ....And to the King is due both the affection of the soul, and the service of the body of his subjects.


The third legitimizing dimension of royal authority thus did not require consecration by the church but emanated directly from the abstract divine power. The categoric tone of James' statement, however, implied that his divine right was being contested. The contestant was the Parliament which will be a central figure in our coming study of constitutionalization.


In the last analysis, consecration stems from the ever-present affectional, nonrational and valuational dimensions of man which prime his recognition and acceptance of many aspects of political institutions, behavior and processes. The present Shah of Iran has, on many occasions, asserted having supernatural protection,[15] which can be understood only in the light of the political culture of that country. At the turn of the century McKinley invoked the power of prayer and God's guidance in his decision to keep the Philippines under American rule, and in the heated debates on the impeachment of Richard Nixon a number of Americans (not a majority, according to the polls, but still some) were indignant at the thought of disrespect for the awesome office of the presidency which had God's protection. Because of its affectional and valuational potentials, consecration remains a potential legitimizing process. Our examination of the evolution from consecration to constitutionalization in the context of Western political culture should not lead to the conclusion that one inevitably follows the other. Indeed, if we look further into European history we find that a reverse process did take place in antiquity where the early Roman Republic eventually turned into an empire (with hereditary and adoptive processes of legitimization). Some of this also took place among the German people whose earlier elective monarchies became more hereditary during the middle ages. To continue our present inquiry, we should above all keep in mind the traditional aspects, which are pervasive social phenomena and in fact constitute a common ground for consecration and constitutionalization.




Our discussion has implied that consecration was by and large the way of the past in Western culture, with only a few remnants traceable in modern times. We may also have suggested that constitutionalization is the modern way of legitimizing power into authority. While it is relatively easy (by following the development of rationalism and individualism, of communications and education) to demonstrate the advent of constitutionalization as the legitimizing process in modern Europe, we may distort the picture if we do not scrutinize its origins and traces within the European historical evolution we have used to illustrate the conversion of power into authority.

Constitutionalization, as we have implied, is the process by which legitimization of power into authority develops mainly within and among the components of a power complex, with little or no intervention by or resort to an outside factor--in particular the supernatural. Constitutionalization legitimizes authority with the direct or indirect participation of those who will submit and will possibly be represented. This does not imply, however, that legitimization takes place uniformly between the authority and all those subject to it, nor that it takes place on a purely functional and systematic contractual basis. The Magna Carta (1215), often mentioned as the first document of modern democracy, was neither a proviso for popular participation in government nor a contract between two parties setting down brand-new functional and systematic rules of conduct. It was an understanding between King John and the feudal lords (the weightier part of those submitting to the king's authority) to set down their understanding of traditional patterns which had evolved within the kingdom. It reflected the barons' consciousness of their power and their claim to a share in the king's authority. More concretely, King John's loss of his vassals in France north of the Loire to Philip in 1204 reduced his support outside England, increasing the power of the English barons in the kingdom. Simultaneously, the increase in the king's demands on the barons to carry on his campaigns on the continent caused conflict, notably over "scutage" (taxes paid by the barons to the king), the recruitment of soldiers, and for the king's adventures on the continent. These factors put the barons in a bargaining position for more say in the affairs of the kingdom. The functional, systematic and contractual dimensions were framed in the context of the cultural dynamics and fermentations which were traditional.


You may notice that our discussion, while emphasizing the traditional aspect of constitutionalization, adds two further patterns -- the contractual and the representational. By "contractual" we do not necessarily mean an incipient social contract in the Lockean sense, but rather the evolution of understanding as to the extent and nature of authority between the authority and those who submit, like that defined in the Magna Carta. The distinction between the contractual and representational implies that by participating in constitutionalization, those who submit will not necessarily participate in exercising the authority nor be represented within it.


Looking again at our European model, we find that when the Carolingian Empire began, some of the Germans had already mingled their culture with that of the Romans. But that had happened mostly in the areas of overlapping populations such as northern Italy and parts of the Frankish kingdom. Otherwise, the German traditions had remained mainly tribal and customary. Tribal patterns varied among different German peoples, but in legitimizing power into authority they generally combined supernatural, territorial, hereditary and electoral dimensions. This last implies a constitutionalizing factor. The earliest known forms of government of the German people were tribal democracies under kings or grafs elected by tribal assemblies. There were no restrictions on the choice of grafs, while the kings had to be elected from the royal houses which had some supernatural consecration of their ancestry and hereditary rights. That was another reason why, as we noticed earlier, Pepin, though elected by the magnates, was still considered a usurper, because he did not descend from a traditional kingly house.


In their moves and expansions in Europe, the German tribes developed systems of authority containing the germs of the medieval and feudal system of Europe. The tribe, in settling a territory, whether to cultivate it or to rule it, made interpersonal arrangements between those who took charge of the land and the authoritative tribal chief, whom they would provide with men and supplies for further expansion and defense. Thus, the authority structure, while having traditional--and sometimes supernatural--patterns, also had contractual, functional and utilitarian features; i.e., there was a mutual commitment understood to be beneficial for both the prince and the person who received a fief. Fiefs, while inheritable, were not automatically inherited. When a vassal died his fief theoretically reverted to the lord until the heir became of age to take an oath of fealty and receive investiture.[16]


These feudal socio-economic and military arrangements were made within the customary and traditional framework to which the prince himself was a subject. He followed the laws of the tribe he ruled, and if he promulgated new laws he first consulted the wise men of his kingdom and followed the tribal consensus. These traditional Germanic patterns and common law practices evolved with the structurally more developed Roman civil law and within the realities of the conversion of the Germans to Christianity. Yet as late as 864, the edictum pistense maintained the basic Germanic premise of popular consensus for the law: "Quoniam lex consensu populi et constitutione regis fit," i.e., that law is made of popular consent and the constitution of the kingdom.


The Germanic monarchy, particularly after the foundation of the Holy Roman Empire by Frederick I in the twelfth century, tended more and more towards aristocratic and hereditary arrangements. The electoral pattern of authority evolved, and as the tribal entities submerged into bigger political structures, the original election by tribal chieftains passed on to tenants-in-chief, then to a group of them designated as electors with the provision that their decision be ratified by the others. Finally the electors' choice became conclusive. The Golden Bull of 1356 (which remained in force until 1806) transformed the empire into an aristocratic federation and provided for an electoral body (patently aristocratic) to constitutionalize the emperor's authority over the German people according to hereditary traditions.


The ideas of representation that developed in the late middle ages and challenged the authorities of both popes and monarchs reflected not only the ancient Greco-Roman democratic and republican practices but also the old Germanic tribal traditions and constitutionalization processes. Marsiglio of Padua (1280-1343), while using Aristotelian logic and Roman antecedents within the Christian context, also based himself on traditional patterns when he advocated that "the authority to make or institute laws belongs only to the corporation of citizens, or to its more weighty part," and advocated a representative legislature to be "the primary cause which effects, institutes and determines the other offices or parts of the state" while "the secondary and, as it were, instrumental or executive cause is the ruler, through the authority conferred upon him by the legislator and in accordance with the form which it has established for him."[17]


The constitutionalization of authority developed differently in different countries of Europe, sometimes in combination with the consecrated authority of the monarch, other times in head-on clashes with it. As we pointed out, the Magna Carta was not a charter for rule by the people, but it was a beginning. By 1265, de Montfort's Parliament, consisting of two knights from each shire and two burgesses from each borough, was the first semblance of a representative body in England.[18]  In France in 1302 Philip IV called an Estates-General, including the nobility, the clergy and the representatives of the towns in their feudal capacity, mainly to endorse his struggle with the Pope. These representative assemblies, while containing the germ of the later legitimization, did not then have the prerogative to constitutionalize the ruler's authority. They were the outcome of the new political circumstances created by the conflicts between the Pope and the monarchs and the nascent nation-states, and were instruments serving the purposes of royal taxation. While the French Estates-General gained little control in the kingdom, serving mainly as an intermittent royal instrument, the English Parliament evolved as a political power gradually challenging the king's authority. By 1470, Sir John Fortescue, comparing England with France in his De Laudibus Legum Anglie distinguished between the regal right of the king and the political rights of the people in England, which was not the case in France where only the King ruled, regally. He wrote:


The kynge of England can not alter nor change the lawes of his royalme at his pleasure. For why he governeth his people by power not only royal but also politique. If his power over them were royall onely then he myght change the Lawes of his royalme, and charge his subjects with tallage, and other burdens without their consent ....But from this much differeth the power of a kynge, whose government over his people is politique, For he can [not] change Lawes without the consent of his subjects.[19]


The religious wars resulted in the creation of political entities over which princes claimed exclusive control, independent of the Pope and the Emperor, but they also produced counter-currents against abuses by kings who had sway over subjects of different faiths.[20]  Within both Catholic and Protestant camps voices advocated resistance against the rulers who were using their authority tyrannically. Those who spoke against tyrants were, of course, those who were prosecuted for their religious differences with the monarch. Thus, the writings of Protestants and Calvinists such as John Knox (The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women, 1557) or George Buchanan (De Jure Regni apud Scotos, 1579) implicated the Catholic monarchs, while those of the Jesuits like Mariana (De Rege et Regis Institutione, 1599) or Suarez (De legibus, ac Deo legislatore, 1603) were directed against the Protestant kings. In their plea or militancy for resistance against the monarch's authority, however, all had to justify their position by demonstrating that the people, or their representatives, were entitled to question the doings of their ruler. They were able to do so by showing that, in one way or another, the people were the premise whence the king received his authority. The Huguenot Vindiciae contra tyrannos (1579) maintained that while "it is God that does appoint kings-the people establish kings, put the sceptre in their hands, and with their suffrages, approve the election." Thus, the idea of a covenant between the people and the ruler was developed.


In England the conflicts between the Stuart kings and the Parliament, civil wars and the interim of Cromwellian commonwealth, all furthered, by the end of the seventeenth century, an understanding of monarchy recognizing the king's authority on the traditional and "contractual" bases of constitutionalization. The Convention Parliament of 1689 declared: "That king James II, having endeavored to subvert the constitution of the kingdom by breaking the original contract between king and people ...and having withdrawn himself out of the kingdom, has abdicated the government, and that the throne is vacant" (italics mine). The crown was offered to William and Mary with an accompanying Declaration of Rights, enumerating the "true, ancient, and indubitable rights of the people of this realm" which William and Mary accepted to be declared King and Queen. That Glorious Revolution moved the legitimization of the king's authority from consecration from above (by God) to constitutionalization from below (by the people of the kingdom--not all the people, but the weightier part--the nobles and the gentry).


"The people" thus emerged as a new pretender claiming to legitimize the authority of the governments of the new political entities--the nation-states --which were reshaping the face of Europe upon the collapse of the Holy Roman Empire. The people, however, were as amorphous a source as the divine right. "The royalist Sir Robert Filmer had great fun demonstrating that the House of Commons was elected by less than one-tenth of the people of England."[21]  For our present discussion it matters not whether, then or now, more than ten percent of a population actively and effectively participate in the choice of a country's rulers, but how the introduction of the people as a participatory factor in legitimization eventually led to representative forms of government.


While the introduction of "the people" has brought us to the core of constitutionalization, "the people" is a variable which can be viewed and interpreted differently according to different political cultures and their stages of evolution. Using our reference group model discussed in Chapter Eight as one possible yardstick to identify "the people," and applying it to one of the political cultures most closely associated with constitutionalization, the United States of America, we find that at its inception "the people" who could participate in legitimization were restrictively defined. The electorate was limited on the basis of status (ownership of property), age (adulthood), race, sex, and education (ability to pass a literacy test). Some of these standards prevailed until very recently, leaving quite a number of "people" out. An understanding of the nature of constitutionalization, therefore, requires its dilution into other legal, economic and social dimensions of the political culture. This is what we propose to do next.


II. Transitional Period in the West


We will better examine and understand the evolution of this period if we remember that the conversion of power into authority hinges on law (as illustrated in Fig. 11-1). To become authority, power has to be steeped in law. Whoever constitutes the source of law can legitimize power into authority and either exercise authority or delegate it through legitimization.


Laws: Natural, Customary, Common and Statutory


The medieval pattern of authority, as we have seen, was an intricate complex of understandings--and misunderstandings--which held the European societies together under the supreme power of God. It was to this nebulous source of authority that rulers referred to justify their governments. In other words, their rule and their laws, in so far as they contained a change, modification or addition to what was already customary or common, were not supposed to be innovations emanating directly from the will or whim of the prince, but to be based on laws of the kingdom of God which the ruler, ordained by divine providence, could and should discover and interpret. This was the natural law which, as St. Thomas put it, was based on the understanding "that all the things which the practical reason naturally apprehends as man's good belong to the precepts of the natural law under the form of things to be done or avoided."[22]  He implied there were certain laws in nature corresponding to human nature which man, endowed by reason, could discover and apply for the common good. Because this natural law applied to all men, including those who discovered and interpreted it, the ruler was under the law, not above it.


The ruler, as we saw, was also expected to respect the customary law of the land. Indeed, the customary law and the traditional patterns contained the modalities by which the ruler was invested with authority. Further, these patterns and customs provided the framework for the administration of justice, which developed into the common law.[23]


Thus, authority was immersed within the laws it represented. This was the pattern, by and large. It was not, of course, exclusive, but subject to human conditions. The ruler, in his prerogatives to interpret and discover the natural laws and implement the common laws, had an angle of vision con­ditioned by his particular interests and Weltanschauung; and, depending on circumstances, he enjoyed some leeway for deviation. If the precepts of religion were strongly upheld by the weightier members of the realm, he probably had more leeway in secular affairs. For example, while St. Thomas condemned unjust human laws that burdened the subjects for the cupidity or vainglory of the authority, or those that went beyond the powers invested in the authority, or those that were imposed unequally on the community; and while he recognized that such laws did not bind in conscience, he qualified his argument by adding, "except perhaps in order to avoid scandal or distur­bance, for which cause a man should even yield in his right, according to Matt. V. 40.41: If a man…take away thy coat, let go thy cloak also unto him; and whosoever will force thee one mile, go with him other two." But he admitted of no leniency for "laws of tyrants inducing to idolatry, or to anything else contrary to divine law. Laws of this kind must in no way be observed, because, as is stated in Acts. V. 29. we ought to obey God rather than men."[24]


With the Reformation some monarchs could claim greater control over the religious affairs in their land, and their leeway leaned towards church affairs rather than the common law of the land which was, at times, upheld against their arbitrary encroachments. .For example, in England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, while the establishment of the Anglican Church was freeing the King from papal authority, he was often called to order in respect to the common law. As Sir Edward Coke (1552-1634), Attorney General to Elizabeth, later Chief Justice under James I, put it, "the common law hath admeasured the King's prerogative."[25]


What was significant in the latter evolution was the shift of importance from one source of law, the supernatural, to the other, the people. Natural law was made beyond men, who were subject to it, and the political authority was to discover, interpret and execute it. The common law, on the other hand, evolved from within the people, within the traditional texture. Therefore it was supposed to be within their grasp--not necessarily their rational but at least their affectional grasp. The following dialogue from the trial of William Penn illustrates the point:


PENN: I affirm I have broken no Law, nor am I guilty of the Indictment, that is laid to my charge, and to the end, the Bench, the Jury, and my self, with these that hear us, may have a more direct understanding of this procedure, I desire you would let me know by what Law it is you prosecute me, and upon what Law you ground my indictment.

RECORDER: Upon the common Law.

PENN: Where is that common Law?

RECORDER: You must not think that I am able to run up so many years, and over so many adjudged Cases, which we call Common Law to answer your curiosity.

PENN: This Answer I am sure is very short of my Question, for if it be Common, it should not be so hard to produce.[26]


Of course, as long as law was customary and traditional, while its fountainhead was the people, they could not claim its authorship in any generation or given time. That would have allowed them to change the law by simple deliberation. We saw that the traditional was so qualified because of its temporal affirmation and continuity. However, the religious wars in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries not only weakened the natural law but also damaged the traditional patterns. The transition, then, not only shifted emphasis from one source of law to another, but also weakened both. The church as custodian and overseer of natural law was challenged, and the traditional ways of life of the people from whose bosom had sprung the common law were disrupted. Under these circumstances, the leeway of the monarchs to manipulate natural and common law constituted paradoxically both a source of abuse and a potential for order. It provided for transformation of the nature of the law: instead of being there, as given -- by God or by tradition -- the law could be made, by the sovereign.


Sovereignty and the State


When the religious wars and the disruption of the Holy Roman Empire made the European monarchs, particularly those of emerging nation-states like England, France and Spain, increasingly independent of the Pope and the Emperor as God's overseers, the question of the nature of their authority and their position in relation to God's laws as well as the laws of the land became acute. The problem was not academic. Religious wars had caused disastrous and often inconclusive conflicts which, while eliminating many feudal kingdoms and principalities, had also contributed to the emergence of bigger entities which could no longer be overrun and absorbed by simple conquest. A stalemate of powers was creating new social, economic, political, legal and cultural dimensions. The post-Reformation political realities were rulers with their divine rights, their people and the territory they controlled, in whose context new power/authority complexes evolved.


In France a group of jurists and political thinkers known as the Politiques, including Dumoulin, Loyseau, Bodin and William Barclay (the Scottish lawyer living in France), were formulating the philosophical concepts for the new political realities. Jean Bodin (1530-1596) in The Six Bookes of a Commonweale (1576) developed the concept of sovereignty, the absolute and perpetual power vested in a commonwealth. Considering the man to whom the people gave absolute power during his natural life, he noted, "If such absolute power is given him simply and unconditionally, and not in virtue of some office or commission, nor in form of a revocable grant, the recipient certainly is, and should be acknowledged to be, a sovereign."[27]  While Bodin subscribed to the current of his time that "the absolute power of princes and sovereign lords does not extend to the laws of God and of nature," he reverted to classic Roman legal concepts in maintaining. that so far as the civil law is concerned, i.e., the law made by the sovereign,


The prince is above the law, for the word law in Latin implies the command of him who is invested with sovereign power .... It follows of necessity that the king cannot be subject to his own laws, [while] it is clear that the principal mark of sovereign majesty and absolute power is the right to impose laws generally on all subjects regardless of their consent.[28]


This idea of sovereignty gives a ruling body, with effective control over a given population within a given territory, the authority to make and administer laws and maintain order. In its pure form this legitimization of power into authority on the basis of sovereignty had a very thin layer of legitimacy. According to Bodin:


If a sovereign magistrate is given office for one year, or for any other predetermined period, and continues to exercise the authority bestowed on him after the conclusion of his term, he does so either by consent or by force and violence. If he does so by force it is manifest tyranny. The tyrant is a true sovereign for all that. But if the magistrate continues in office by consent, he is not a sovereign prince, seeing that he only exercises power on sufferance. Still less is he a sovereign if the term of his office is not fixed, for in that case he has no more than a precarious commission.[29]


The tendency to justify strong sovereign power was not only to maintain law and order within the new post-Reformation political entities (which we shall identify as states), but also to stabilize their precarious coexistence. It implied, at its origin, two basic political phenomena checking and balancing their relationships and testing their political reality and viability: 1) The equality of these states in their dealings with each other: Either because of their balance of powers or because of stalemated conjunctures, they could not eliminate or dislocate each other and thus had to recognize the exclusive jurisdiction of each within its own boundaries. 2) Their independence from outside interference in making their laws and governments-a consequence of the first characteristic.


The new sovereigns were equal in so far as they could survive the blows of their adversaries, avoid being overrun and lose their identity, and enter into covenants and agreements as equals able to fulfill them.[30]  This implied, in the absence of a superior authority above the sovereign states, contentions and confrontations that would eventually weed out those who were not "sovereign" enough, and establish a perpetual balance of powers among those who remained sovereign, creating rules of conduct which those who recognized each other would abide by.[31]  By the time of the Peace of Westphalia (1648) which officially ended the religious wars, some six hundred medieval political entities had been absorbed by bigger units.


At the beginning of this chapter we said that powers combined to recognize an authority over the areas of their overlappings, interactions and interpenetrations, implying their active involvement. The recognition of the sovereignty of one independent political entity by the others was passive, an acknowledgment that it "stood on its own" and was a "state" with exclusive jurisdiction over its realm. To achieve such recognition, the sovereign state had to be personified legally and be presented and represented among other states. This implied, on the one hand, some understanding of legality among the sovereign states and, on the other, an internal process for establishing and legitimizing the authority that represented the state. The real criterion for the mutual recognition of sovereign states was, of course, the sovereign's effective control over the people and the territory he claimed, as well as his capacity to fulfill his international claims and obligations, buttressed, preferably, by a legitimization of his prerogatives on the basis of divine providence.


We saw that as more political entities in Europe became independent of the spiritual and temporal powers of the Holy Roman Empire, the consecration of authority of the rulers was based on the divine right of kings attributed directly to providence. It must be remembered that, despite the decline of the Pope's political power, Catholics and Protestants alike upheld the basic supernatural values of the Christian faith on whose premises both the Anglican James I and the Catholic Louis XIV claimed absolute power. Legitimization on the simple assumption that divine right made it perpetual and absolute was, however, qualified. For the assertion of sovereignty and the fulfillment of international pretensions and responsibilities, the independent states required internal cohesion permitting the effective combination of the components of their sovereignty--their population, territory and social, economic and political structures and potentials to generate power. The exercise of divine right by the sovereigns depended, therefore, on the nature of these components; and in the transition of Western political culture from traditional to modern it did not go unchallenged.


The real challenge, in the modern sense, to the concept of consecration of power into authority through the supernatural began with the philosophic inquiries of the Renaissance and the Reformation and the developments mentioned in our discussion of value-forming agencies. When the Thomist supposito quod mundus divina providentia regatur could be questioned because it did not satisfy the rational standards of the Cartesian cogito, ergo sum, whatever emanated from divine providence could be doubted. While this did not necessarily imply that the monarch was not entitled to his authority, it did mean that authority could not be legitimized through consecration alone. Indeed, Hobbes made a classic attempt to legitimize the absolute ruler free from supernatural consecration on the contractual and representational bases:


A Common-wealth is said to be instituted, when a Multitude of men do Agree, and Covenant, every one with every one, that to whatsoever Man, or Assembly of Men, shall be given by the major part, the Right to Present the Person of them all, (that is to say, to be their Representative;) every one, as well he that 'Voted for it, as he that Voted against it, shall Authorise all the Actions and Judgements, of that Man, or Assembly of men, in the same manner, as if they were his own, to the end, to live peaceably amongst themselves, and be protected against other men.


From this Institution of a Common-wealth are derived all the Rights, and Facultyes of him, or them, on whom the Soveraigne Power is conferred by the consent of the People assembled.[32]


For Hobbes, however, the end product was the sovereign, not the multitude which had entered into the covenant and constituted it. The multitude were subjects. Hobbes' Leviathan was published in 1651, three years after the Peace of Westphalia and two years after the beheading of Charles I in England where, in 1650, after two civil wars, Cromwell in the name of the Commonwealth was fighting the kingdom in the person of Charles II. In short, they were tumultuous times. It is understandable that Hobbes like the French Politiques, was advocating a sovereignty of strong and absolute rule with the primary goal of order and security. While a strong, absolute and unitary sovereign could have seemed a desirable authority to maintain order, it did not provide sufficient guarantees against arbitrary law and justice.


The Bourgeoisie


More important, however, were the social and economic factors which did not lend themselves to absolute monarchical power. Trade patterns resulting from the Crusades and the Mongolian conquests in the thirteenth century had farreaching effects. While Islam had severed Europe from the ancient tandem of Greco-Roman and Persian civilizations and the Crusades had deepened the split between the Christians and the Arabs, the emergence of the Mongols in the East opened new prospects for contact with the Orient. The movements caused by the Crusades, and the Mongolian displacement of Arab rule from parts of the Middle East contributed to the expansion of trade within Europe as well as with the East. By the fourteenth century, Europe had developed extensive trade relations with Asia. The new economic patterns influenced the European social structures, leading to the development of trade centers and urban areas. With Eastern trade the cities of northern Italy prospered while later, with the discovery of sea routes to Asia and Africa and the discovery of the Americas in the fifteenth century, the ports of Spain and the Atlantic coast expanded and attracted more of the population.[33]  The new movements of people began to alter the rather slow-paced way of life and the close-knit feudal structures.


The combined efforts of economic, political, religious, philosophical and social changes brought to the forefront that segment of the population identified as the bourgeoisie. The term referred to the social class which inhabited the bourg--or burg or borough; the town. But it also implied a certain Weltanschauung, interests and, consequently, value-orientations particular to the bourgeois social situation. The bourg, in the medieval and feudal context, occupied a middle place, so to speak, between the farmers and laborers on the one side, and the princes, aristocrats, clergy and men of arms on the other. There were, of course, more bourgeois in the market towns and commercial centers. Where the feudal system prevailed, many of the bourgeoisie remained within the closed unit of the castle/town/field, receiving protection from the prince and products from the farmers for their livelihood, in turn providing them with goods and services.


The expansion of commerce, the loosening of some religious and ethical inhibitions on certain commercial and financial practices (such as usury) and the passing away of many feudal entities left the bourgeoisie with new functional horizons, but also new affectional handicaps. In the close-knit feudal arrangement, the bourgeois was part of a patrimony and had an affectional relationship with the prince, his protector, who was nearby. The walls of his town were not far from the farmer, with whom he identified as a compatriot. And his relationships within his trade, whether master or an apprentice, bore strong affectional ties of a paternal or filial nature. As new, larger post-Reformation political entities were consolidated, the bourgeoisie found itself in more impersonal relations with the distant monarchical political centers and its clientele. At the same time the new economic conditions favored bourgeois growth.


*     *     *


Let us recall some of our questions in earlier chapters about the fermentations and dynamics within heterogeneous groups, the role played by moral, ethical and legal norms under different circumstances of social integration, the social attitudes of the members of groups according to their interest-value constellations, and the broader factors affecting political cultures. Let us also remember the changing pattern of the value-forming agencies and the shift towards humanism and education in the European high middle ages, particularly the Erasmian philosophy which fostered individualism. Then let us recall the religious wars where rulers, free of the spiritual and temporal authorities of the Holy Roman Empire to claim supreme power on the basis of their nebulous divine right, were justified by some philosophies in placing themselves above the law. Consider also that the new social changes required new laws distinct from customs and natural law. The result was more civil and statutory laws adaptable to changing social situations. With society radically changing, the lawmaker had to find larger latitude to interpret and discover natural law, modify the customary law or even make new laws. Under the circumstances, the sovereign ruler could claim nearly absolute power unless there was a check within his kingdom.


This absolute power was challenged by the ruled in the name of "the people"-in reality the weightier parts of society; the clergy and aristocracy (who had survived the Reformation and were incorporated into the new sovereign kingdoms) and, of course, by the emerging bourgeoisie. While the clergy upheld the old spiritual and natural law, and aristocracy clung to its prerogatives and traditions, presenting them as binding and directing the ruler's authority, the bourgeoisie was concerned with establishing a foothold within the constellation of powers and influencing the new laws (civil and statutory) to meet the new circumstances where the bourgeoisie was, to a great extent, the principal actor. The more innovative and threatening challenge came from the bourgeoisie which, with the new means and relations of produc­tion, was destined to become the predominant class in Western political culture. The transition in the legitimization of power into authority shifted from consecration to constitutionalization as the bourgeoisie attempted to control sovereignty. This sums up the scenario for our coming discussions, for the passage of the Western political culture into modernity is indeed the story of the bourgeoisie's growth, its struggle for representa­tion in and control of sovereignty, and its potentials to make and implement laws.


While the similar basic ingredients of their cultures provided a general pattern of political development within the Western countries, producing the essential components of modern political complexes--such as sovereignty, nation, state or nation-state (more or less universal political models up to now)--the scenario had variations, depending on their particular experiences and environmental conditions. The transition from traditional to modern was at times gradual, at other times abrupt, some changes starting earlier and stretching over a long period, others beginning later and compressed into a shorter time span. For example, the eighteenth-century American colonies of the British Kingdom adopted the constitutional process for converting power into authority long before and in a totally different spirit than did the Russians of the twentieth century. The discrepancy between the two examples shows that the intertwined development of the bourgeoisie, sovereignty and representative form of government had such variety that our discussion of Western political culture from now on must consider particular experiences, however briefly, before depicting general patterns again. We also need-­before further discussing the different ways the scenario was played--models to encompass the rather broad variations in the passage of Western political cultures into the modern age.


III. Western Evolution Towards Modernization


In our examination of the power/authority conversion at the beginning of this chapter, we noted that authority is the area of contact, interaction, trans­action and overlapping of powers. We also noticed, on one hand, a tendency towards the status quo of the powers involved, and, on the other, a drive for change--the latter produced when a power grows and is either not recognized at all or not given its share in the authority constellation. The degree to which the emerging power is a social reality and is or is not recognized by the authority structure determines whether the transition takes place smoothly or explosively. Whether it be the Christians in ancient Rome, the post-Reformation bourgeoisie in Europe, the Soviets of 1917 in Russia, or the militant black power advocates in the United States, their emergence indi­cates change. And whether they cause the established pattern to disintegrate, are integrated and accommodated within it or are frustrated by it, things will not be the same again. Usually the power which is not taken into the game of authority is more adventurous, militant, vehement and determined. For it has little to lose, particularly in terms of prestige (which the established authority needs). Not being established, it is more mobile and versatile, while what it wants to overthrow -- the establishment -- is entrenched.


The outcome will depend on the flexibility of the established authority and the prevailing social conditions. If the authority structure is flexible, it may incorporate the emerging power and possibly gain strength from the new blood. On the other hand, new elements may contribute to the degeneration and disintegration of the established order. The fermenting agent added to milk at the right moment and temperature will produce cheese, while at other times it will curdle the milk. As Victor Hugo advised: "Savoir au juste la quantité d'avenir qu'on peut introduire dans le présent, c'est la tout le secret d'un grand gouvernement. Mettez toujours de l'avenir dans ce que vous faites, seulement, mesurez la dose."[34] The integrative possibilities of the authority structure may also wax or wane in consecutive power/authority encounters and cleavages, resulting in acquiesced conflict resolution patterns. Applying the spectrum of conformity/revolt developed in Chapter Eight to the social changes under consideration here, we can schematize the process with two basic models for social change (with variations in between).


In the first model the established authority and social order are not easily amenable to social change. The authority imposes its rule and demands conformity. If the economic, political and other social factors call for change and mobility, the inflexibility of the established order will generate cleavage, and although the prevailing structure may, by its inflexibility, maintain itself for awhile, the cleavage may eventually lead to revolution. The revolution may effect changes in values and norms beyond social tolerance, thus creating new social frictions, whereupon the new social order established as a consequence of the revolution may become authoritarian like the old order. Or, because of militance, lack of security, and the existence of a traditional authoritarian pattern of social behavior, it may demand political conformity even more drastically than the old order, as did the Puritans in Cromwellian England and the Soviets after the October Revolution in Russia. We thus perceive a rather jerky pattern of social change, with political conformity, cleavage and revolution overshadowing consensual and dissentient processes.[35]



Fig 11-02


The second model is more likely to occur after consecutive ups and downs in transitional situations which, if a political entity is to recover some harmony and balance under modern conditions, should develop a more evolutionary process with social change taking place within the loop of consensus/cleavage/dissent (and, at the most, civil disobedience), overshadowing the extremes of political conformism of the traditional and authoritarian patterns at the one end, and revolutionary disruptions at the other.


Fig 11-03


In their move towards modern times, different Western political cultures[36] have provided us with different combinations of these two models, wherein, in terms of our discussion of radicals and reactionaries in Chapter Eight, during their transitional phases the bourgeoisie played, to some extent, the radical role.[37]


The Case of Great Britain


Returning to our discussion of the contest for sovereignty and political control in modern European political cultures, using the models just developed, we find that in early seventeenth-century England with the king upholding his divine right to rule absolutely, the confrontation between the king and the weightier part of the kingdom already had an identifiable battlefield, so to speak, in the body of Parliament. The Parliament was not a true reflection of the movements of population and the emerging bourgeois power. The electoral system was basically unchanged since the middle ages, giving the electoral rights to the old counties and towns. It was not a popular representative assembly in the modern sense, for its members came from the wealthy landed families of the counties and from the propertied oligarchies of the towns--in short, the gentry. The county electoral franchise was restricted to men owning freehold land worth forty shillings a year, which eliminated some eighty to ninety per cent of the rural population, while in towns the franchise was vested mostly in corporations or freemen. But the Parliament was representing the country's wealth on which the king depended for taxation, and was thus the instrument by which the "weightier part" of the kingdom could challenge the king's absolute right. While the challenge came from part of the gentry in Parliament, it was the bourgeoisie that made possible the civil war of the 1640's against the king. Despite the beheading of Charles I in 1649 and the civil war, England's bourgois revolution was less dramatic than France's in 1789.


The challenge of the bourgeoisie to gain political power was, of course, a class struggle. This element was not unconscious, and the contemporaries were aware of its scope and implications. For example, the Reverend Richard Baxter in his The Holy Commonwealth (1659), depicting the civil war, noted that:


A very great part of the knights and gentlemen...adhered to the King .... Most of the tenants of these gentlemen, and also most of the poorest of the people, whom the other call the rabble, did follow the gentry and were for the King. On the Parliament's side were... the smaller part (as some thought) of the gentry in most of the counties, and the greatest part of the tradesmen and freeholders and the middle sort of men, especially in those corporations and counties which depend on clothing and such manufactures.[38]


We talked about the consciousness factor of power in Chapter Ten. In seventeenth-century England the bourgeoisie was becoming conscious of its power as the country's productive factor. Baxter's mention of manufacturers, particularly of clothing, is significant. It was the beginning of the industrial revolution and the development of the textile industry. While the religious and dynastic conflicts continued, a new mercantile interest pattern was developing with its own modern value system. The interactions of the English kings and the Parliament reflected the conflict of interests between the monarchical and the emerging bourgeois powers. Like the thirteenth-century barons whose challenge of the king's collection of "scutage" culminated in the Magna Carta, the bourgeoisie resisted forced loans, taxations and the "impositions" (tonnage and poundage customs duties) which James I and Charles II had instituted for their wars. The bourgeoisie was not against war altogether, but it did oppose wars that did not correspond to its own value system, i.e., mercantile prosperity and expansion. Indeed, in 1652, during the Commonwealth under Cromwell, the British fought the Dutch for infringement of the British First Navigation Act of 1651, which prohibited importations into England on vessels not belonging either to Britain or to the country of origin of the imported goods. The British were trying to gain merchant-marine supremacy over the Dutch. The strong economic implications of our examples seem to suggest that the contests between the overlapping and conflicting powers revolve around the question of who gets what under what conditions. There were other parameters, too, but economic factors were preponderant.


By 1660, in the compromise returning a Stuart, Charles II, to the throne, the bourgeoisie had emerged as the power which counted, and the parliamentary system had become the reality of English politics. The locus of sovereignty had shifted. Although the king was the sovereign, he depended heavily on the Parliament, which in turn depended on the people--not all of them but their weightier part, still the aristocrats, the clergy and, now, the bourgeoisie. The latter were destined to expand because they felt the spirit of the times and the new economic realities. The bourgeois nature of the events becomes even more obvious when we consider that while the conservative extremists upholding the old structures were losing ground, the balance of the English society did not move to the other extreme of radicalism.[39]


At the radical extreme, the Diggers advocated ideas with a communistic flavor and the abolition of private ownership. Even the Levellers (of which the Diggers were an issue), less radical than the Diggers, were still too far out for bourgeois taste.[40]  The Levellers proposed the franchise for all free Englishmen, including all who could freely dispose of their labor without consideration to land and property, but excluding paupers, servants and those whose labor was administered by a master, such as apprentices and wage laborers. They also favored abolition of the monarchy and the House of Lords, as well as legal reform by rationalizing common law to a more civil law form. In the Levellers and particularly the Diggers we can distinguish the buds of early proletarian consciousness and its claim to a share in shaping political authority.


The egalitarian policies advocated by the Levellers did not materialize then. But they marked a strain of social development which in later centuries, as we shall see, became the consciousness of the working classes about their power, eventually influencing the nature of government and authority. The Levellers favored the small man, the husbandman and the artisan, not the big property holders, corporations and manufacturers. And these were the people who had already gained bourgeois class consciousness. The compromise of 1660 was, therefore, also a compromise among the aristocracy, the clergy and the bourgeoisie to keep the lower classes in their place. At the same time, it set the tone for the legitimization of power into authority under the new circumstances.


The restoration of 1660, then, did not restore the divine right monarchy but a parliamentarian system. English politics at this time was in transition from our jerky model of political conformity/cleavage/revolution, to the more harmonious model of consensus/cleavage/dissent. And the transition took a few centuries. Charles II and James II did on many occasions trespass their prerogatives, finally ending in the escape of James II to France. In the process, the preponderance of the parliamentary regime was confirmed. By offering the crown to William of Orange in 1689 on condition that he endorse the Declaration of Rights, including the stipulation that to make or suspend law required consent of Parliament, the English people were setting the rules for the distribution of sovereign prerogatives within their commonwealth. It was the values and the Weltanschauung of their weightier part (more and more identifable as the bourgeoisie) that the political culture reflected. The seventeenth-century evolutions in England were thus preparing for the modern industrial and capitalist political economy. As Hill notes, by the beginning of the eighteenth century, "all but an ineffective group of sentimental squires deserted Divine Right monarchy and put their money in the Bank of England."[41]


It is in the light of these facts that the political philosophy of John Locke (1632-1704) can be understood. Under the pen of Locke, the social contract, which Hobbes had wanted as a carte blanche to the ruler, sounds more like a business contract. In the prevailing circumstances, Locke advocated religious tolerance and harmony between the rulers and the ruled. Drawing on the scientific and religious evolutions of his time, he developed the philosophic bases for a contractual constitutionalization of power into authority. The laws of nature, he noted, implied natural rights of men to life, liberty and property. It was by virtue of and for the preservation of these rights that men put themselves under a social contract to constitute a civil authority. That authority, therefore, could not be an absolute monarchy.[42]  Life, liberty and property are obviously materialist improvements on the early Christian values of detachment from worldly goods for salvation, and they also displace some medieval aristocratic values of chivalry and adventure. Locke's philosophy reflected the economic, political and social realities of late seventeenth-century England: a tendency towards moderation and compromise, "common" sense and avoidance of excesses -- conditions propitious for the middle class.[43]


These ideas expanded those of Hobbes and Spinoza. Man's natural rights depicted by Hobbes were brutal and had to be contained by the absolute rule of the Leviathan; and for Spinoza, "The natural right of the individual man [was]...determined, not by sound reason, but by desire and power."[44]  The Lockean natural rights were more reasonable and therefore more palatable to bourgeois realities and had lasting effects in shaping Western political culture.[45]  Thus, for example, the Declaration of Independence of the United States in 1776, whose authors had been influenced by Locke's philosophy, referred to man's unalienable rights: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, for whose security governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. The replacement of "estate" and "property" by "the pursuit of happiness'." was due to Thomas Jefferson's high ideals, which did not altogether correspond to the bourgeois concerns. As American history later attested, it was--to the chagrin of the founding fathers and any Jeffersonian philosopher--property and estate which were, after all, the real popular concern.[46]  But the pursuit of happiness as a goal and the state's creation of appropriate conditions so that as many as possible could attain it, had echoed throughout the ages in political thought and still resounds today. As we shall see in the next chapter, it inspired such philosophies as utilitarianism, liberalism and socialism, making the state responsible to secure the greatest happiness of the greatest numbers.


The rather simplistic Lockean notion of an original social contract did not, of course, explain the realities of legitimizing power into authority in England. David Hume (1711-1776) in his "Of the Original Contract" (1741) noted that if a social contract ever existed it must have been in some lost primeval time when a group of men acquiesced to the rule of a chief--which, given the minimal primeval communications and semantic development, could hardly be considered a social contract but rather the outcome of expediency. In his "Of the First Principles of Government" (1741) he further observed historical realities showing that "upon ...opinions...of public interest, of right to power, and of right to property, are all governments founded and all authority of the few over the many. There are, indeed, other principles which add force to these and determine, limit, or alter their operation, such as self-interest, fear, and affection." Hume noted that as history attested, many governments originated by conquest, rebellion or violence. Yet, he argued, if a dynasty which may have achieved power by usurpation succeeded in maintaining itself and gained effective control, it could eventually receive the acquiescence of its subjects and create the habit of obedience. In other words, a traditional pattern could develop. Hume was reiterating the traditional dimension of legitimization and relating to it the crucial factors of habituation to an established order and socialization, which we discussed earlier.


The eighteenth-century political culture of Great Britain was a concoction of different versions of the philosophies it inspired. Within the traditional pattern, the consecration of monarchical authority and the divine right of kings had evolved into a constitutional monarchy. Though not created by an original social contract in the Lockean sense, it had a contractual undertone, as noted in the Declaration of Rights of 1689, in that there was an understanding of the rights and responsibilities of the rulers. And it provided for the representation of those who counted. These contractual and representational aspects well illustrate constitutionalization. Further, the British polity was on its way to achieving our smoother consensus/cleavage/dissent model which permitted social evolution and fluctuations without the disruptive extremes of political conformity/revolution.


In England, compared to many other European countries, authority shifted from the monarch to the Parliament rather gradually. When the House of Hanover acceded to the throne in 1714, with George I's unfamiliarity with British politics and his orientation toward his native Germany,[47] the executive power exercised by the cabinet (until then an instrument of the monarchs) fell more and more under the prime minister. The first "real" one, Sir Robert Walpole, was appointed to preside over the cabinet in behalf of the king. The prime minister in turn gradually became responsible to the Parliament, which in turn gradually took control of the cabinet. The transition was indeed so gradual that in his The English Constitution (1867), Walter Bagehot appropriately called it "the efficient secret of the English Constitution," which he described as


..the close union, the nearly complete fusion, of the executive and legislative powers. No doubt by the traditional theory, as it exists in all books, the goodness of our constitution consists in the entire separation of the legislative and the executive authorities, but in truth its merit consists in their singular approximation. The connection link is the cabinet. By that new word we mean a committee of the legislative body selected to be the executive body ....A century ago the Crown had a real choice of ministers, though it had no longer a choice in policy. During the long reign of Sir R. Walpole he was obliged not only to manage parliament, but also to manage the palace ....[Today] we have in England an elective first magistrate as truly as the Americans have an elective first magistrate.[48]


The widening of the base for popular representation followed a more or less parallel trend. With the population moving to industrial centers, and with communications developing--helping new value-forming agencies to evolve--the masses were becoming conscious of the new economic structures and the bourgeois values were gaining ideological stature. If life, liberty and property were good for the high bourgeois, they were also good for the little man. At times, competing factions within the Parliament further encouraged popular political participation. The political factions which had emerged within Parliament in the seventeenth century as supporters (Tories) or opponents (Whigs) of the court and royal prerogatives had, on different occasions, called on public sentiment to advance their cause. The Whigs made such appeals more often. The flirtation with the popular base became more limited, however, once the crises of 1640-1660 were over. In the eighteenth century the members of the Parliament identified themselves as representatives of the privileged classes in whose interests it was not to overly arouse the lower classes. The two parties, whose concerns had evolved from royal prerogatives to more material and economically vital issues, thus appealed with moderation for public support of their positions. But under the new industrial and social impulses, popular concern for political and economic issues grew.


A pattern of conflicting and complementing movements thus evolved. On the one hand was the Parliament, representing the propertied gentry and bourgeoisie, trying to hold its privileges yet bearing competing interests for control of the cabinet and executive power. On the other hand was the public, becoming more alert and asking for a greater voice in political affairs, with the contending parties trying to hold it within bounds, but also trying to win it to their side. The result was the emergence of workingmen's associations, trade unions and labor organizations and a series of popular movements, such as the Chartrist Agitation of 1839 and the Anti-Corn Law movements of 1845-1846.[49]  A century of activism of these various movements directly or indirectly encouraged, induced and precipitated the Parliament into a series of reforms, notably the Reform Bills of 1832, 1867 and 1884, and the Acts of 1918 and 1923, which eventually broadened the franchise to all adults.


In attempting to show how consecration moved toward constitutionalization, we have been focusing on historical and political events. In the spirit of our overall approach, however, we should remember that these events are not simple cause/effect propositions in vacuo, but are affected by the total environment. Consider the political entity we have just reviewed, which passed from the kingdom of England (in contradistinction to Scotland, Wales and Ireland) to the British Empire (on which, up to World War II, from India to the Indies the sun never set) and ended up as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (the latter part being contended), a member of the European Common Market. These temporal and spatial evolutions have had far more than simple political and formal implications. And let us not forget that it was run by such statesmen as Palmerston and Russell, Gladstone and Disraeli, and inspired by other men: Swift and Pope, Wordsworth and Shaw, and many more. Reacting to the Peterloo Massacre of 1819, Shelley wrote:


An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king ,-­-

Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow

Through public scorn--mud from a muddy spring ,--­

Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,

But leech-like to their fainting country cling ,

Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,-­-

A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,--

An army, which liberticide and prey

Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,

Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay,--

Religion Christless, Godless--a book sealed;

A Senate--Time's worst stature unrepealed,--

Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may

Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.[50]


Shelley's words were read and reacted to.  The history of England would not have been the same under a different sequence of events, in a different part of the world with different people composing and inspiring it.[51]




We are studying France mainly because what happened there, especially the French Revolution, influenced other major political events in Western Europe. The Estates-General, to which we referred earlier, had never gained the stature and consciousness of a national body as had the British Parliament. The last of the Estates-General before the French Revolution of 1789 was summoned in 1614, and despite a weak monarchy it did not achieve control.[52]  The nobility was asking for the suppression of the hereditary privileges of the high bourgeoisie (the paulette) which conferred some hereditary rights on the judges, while the bourgeoisie was demanding abolition of the pensions paid to the nobility. The Estates-General was paralyzed by its own intestinal malaise.


When Cardinal de Richelieu in 1624 became head of the Royal Council (16241642) the French central government bureaucracy imposed its authority more and more on the aristocracy and other segments. The tendency continued under Cardinal Mazarin, who succeeded Richelieu. The last attempts (the Frondes) in 1648 and 1653 of the French feudal aristocracy and the high bourgeoisie (the French counterpart of the British "gentry"), which controlled the municipal council of Paris called the parlement, to oppose the royal tendency towards absolutism failed. France thus entered a period of absolute monarchy under Louis XIV, who ascended the throne in 1643 at the age of five and took full control at his maturity in 1661, ruling until 1715. Many factors made this absolutism possible, among which was the fact that, ever since the fifteenth century, the French monarch, unlike the British king, had been provided with two essential instruments of government, namely, a standing army and direct income through direct taxation.[53]


The legitimacy of the absolute monarchy in France during this period, until the French Revolution, was based on divine right. This absolutism, in the context of its time and the exercise of its power, had many anachronistic features which by perpetuating themselves made French politics correspond to our more disruptive conformity/cleavage/revolution model. The French absolute monarchy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries imposed political conformity, just. as the bourgeoisie, capitalism and industrial revolution were becoming the post-Reformation realities moving Europe into the modern age. While Louis XIV claimed "L'Etat, c'est moi" (that he was the state) and governed above the aristocracy and the clergy, the bourgeoisie was prospering, paying the taxes, buying governmental positions, and penetrating the bureaucracy -- but without much voice in running the state. The English experience of constitutional monarchy was envied. In other parts of the continent, notably the Netherlands and intermittently the Scandinavian countries, the bourgeoisie were also participating state affairs. By the eighteenth century, the British model of government increasingly inspired the political thinkers in France.


Montesquieu (1689-1755) in his De l'Esprit des Lois, (1748)[54] used the English model to show the advantage of separating the legislature, the executive and the judiciary, and to demonstrate the shortcomings and dangers of absolutism. Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778), partly influenced by Locke's philosophy of human nature and social contract, in his Social Contract of 1762 advanced the concept of the General Will as the source of legitimate authority. Many of his ideas have been claimed by political thinkers and activists of different shades and colors, at times at opposite poles. He wrote:


Finally, each man, in giving himself to all, gives himself to nobody; and as there is no associate over which he does not acquire the same right as he yields others over himself, he gains an equivalent for everything he loses, and an increase of force for the preservation of what he has ....


"Each of us puts his person and all his power in common under the supreme direction of the general will, and in our corporate capacity, we receive each member as an indivisible part of the whole."


At once, in the place of the individual personality of each contracting party, this act of association creates a moral and collective body, composed of as many members as the assembly contains voters, and receiving from this act its unity, its common identity, its life, and its will. This public person, so formed by the union of all other persons, formerly took the name of city, and now takes that of Republic or body politic; it is called by its members State when passive, sovereign when active, and Power when compared with others like itself. Those who are associated in it take collectively the name of people, and severally are called citizens, as sharing in the sovereign power, and subjects, as being under the laws of the State .


...the Sovereign, being formed wholly of the individuals who compose it, neither has nor can have any interest contrary to theirs ....The Sovereign, merely by virtue of what it is, is always what it should be.


What, then, strictly speaking is an act of sovereignty? It is not a convention between a superior and an inferior, but a convention between the body and each of its members. It is legitimate, because based on the social contract, and equitable, because common to all; useful, because it can have no other object than the general good, and stable, because guaranteed by the public force and the supreme power.[55]


Rousseau thus deposited sovereignty squarely with the people who, all assembled, by strict majority rule, constitutionalized the authority of their government.


Eighteenth-century France after Louis XIV provided a favorable atmosphere for ideas such as those of Rousseau. While the king (Louis XV) still ruled by divine right, the absoluteness of his monarchy had slipped into the hands of the nobility who coveted a role in the affairs of state (which had been kept from them under Louis XIV). At the service of the nobility was the bureaucracy developed under Richelieu and Louis XIV, which still ran the country and collected the taxes according to medieval arrangements. The comparative relaxation of the nobility, the not very vigorous policies of Louis XV, and the influence of the king's mistresses, particularly the Marquise de Pompadour, contributed to a climate of luxury and enlightened despotism which continued under Louis XVI. The ruling class tolerated the sometimes satirical (such as Montesquieu's Lettres Persanes of 1721), other times covert criticisms of the regime and the social system. Other currents emerging within the bourgeoisie also propagated new ideas. The secret societies, notably the Freemasonry, were particularly significant.


By the end of the century, the royal government was still unable to renounce the privileges and luxury of the ruling class and unwilling to apply the new ideas for reform--not for lack of ideas, for the philosophes and the physiocrats had made the century the Age of Enlightenment. France's budgetary deficit was increasing, partly because of the expense of engaging in the American War of Independence on the side of the United States; and the high bourgeoisie was no longer prepared to foot the bill. The court finally chose the ultimate recourse, calling the Estates-General for the first time since 1614. Many monarchists and bourgeoisie hoped the occasion would produce a constitutional monarchy similar to the British. The conditions, however, no longer lent themselves to a mild transition.[56]  The Declaration of the Rights of Man, adopted by the National Assembly (the body the Estates-General soon turned itself into) on August 26, 1789, revealed the basic bourgeois nature of the French Revolution by emphasizing life, liberty and property, reflecting the influence of British and American political thought as well as that of the French philosophers of the century, notably Rousseau. It declared that "The natural, inalienable and sacred Rights of man" are "liberty, property, security and resistance to oppression" (Art. 2), that "The principle of all sovereignty resides essentially in the Nation" (Art. 3) and that "The Law is the expression of the general will" (Art. 6).


Rousseau, however, had also said:


The first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of saying "This is mine," and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not any one have saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch, and crying to his fellows: "Beware of listening to this imposter; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and the earth itself to nobody.[57]


The Diggers in mid-seventeenth-century England had also condemned private property and had to be dealt with to secure the growth of the nascent bourgeois movement. But the Diggers had less impact than did the French radicals. The population explosion of the eighteenth century and the uneven distribution of wealth in France made many more lower class people favorable to egalitarian thought and disruptive toward the kind of law and order the bourgeoisie had hoped for (and had nearly succeeded in negotiating within the framework of the monarchy). Between 1791 and 1795 things got out of hand, with mob agitations, the Reign of Terror, summary executions, and factional rivalries. The social and economic thrust, however, was bourgeois, and any authority which did not reflect that class seemed condemned to failure. So, by 1795, the chaos of mobs and terror without any well-defined ideology of government yielded to the bourgeois concerns for law and order.[58]


Interwoven with the social and economic realities was the crucial problem of the legitimization of authority and the concept of sovereignty -- not only a French national problem but a European problem. While the English civil war had also posed a problem for Europe, its total environmental conditions were different from those of the French Revolution, which had the potentials and pretensions of upsetting the whole European political system. In 1792, the French National Convention had voted a decree supporting all people who desired liberation from despotic rulers. In many European countries, especially in the east, such as Prussia, Austria and Russia, the capitalist industrial bourgeoisie was not adequately developed to alarm the absolute monarchs. But the French Revolution claimed a messianic role beyond the bourgeois revolution. At the 1793 convention, inspired by Rousseau, Saint-Just accused not Louis XVI but royalty as an institution and a concept, declaring it a crime against the people and a usurpation of the general will.[59]


By the constitutions of 1795 and 1799 France was emerging from revolutionary chaos, establishing more stable structures[60] and instituting an executive to provide greater security for the growth of the bourgeoisie. Yet her republican and missionary fervor to change the face of Europe remained a cause of concern for the European monarchies. Even after 1804, when "the government of the Republic was entrusted to an Emperor" and Napoleon was crowned in the presence of the Pope, the new French empire was not unconditionally tolerated by the, European monarchies. The Napoleonic empire collapsed in 1814, and the new constitutional charter of Louis XVIII started with "The Divine Providence." Although an attempt was again made to create a constitutional monarchy after the British model, the temporal and spatial circumstances did not lend themselves to harmonious institutions. The writing of a constitution was not enough. The British political complex had grown over the centuries. Louis XVIII had come back to the French throne "in the baggage of the allies," and the royalists, "having learned nothing and forgotten nothing" of the past experiences, had come for revenge. In the meantime, however, the bourgeoisie, with a more liberal approach, had carved itself a good portion of power under the Napoleonic regime.


The European monarchs who had banded together to efface the vestiges of the French Revolution from European political culture pledged each other, in the Holy Alliance of 1815, mutual aid in maintaining their absolute and divine kingly rights. The British monarchy did not sign that Alliance (it already had too much of a parliamentary system). The Holy Alliance served more the monarchs of Austria, Prussia and Russia to justify their suppression of democratic movements.[61]  France remained the weak link of the European Concert of Powers regarding monarchical legitimacy. Its revolutions of 1830, 1848 and 1870-1871 and successive monarchical, republican, imperial and finally again republican structures influenced political upheavals in other parts of Europe and often served as catalyst for the expansion of the capitalist and industrial bourgeoisie on the continent. Despite the French experience, monarchy remained by and large the legitimate form of personifying a sovereign state, and when during the nineteenth century the Balkanic states became independent of the Ottoman Empire, they were given monarchical constitutions. However, by qualifying monarchy as the legitimate form of personifying a sovereign state, we distinguish between the exercise of divine right by European monarchs on the one hand and bourgeois participation in state affairs through constitutional arrangements on the other. The extent of either depended on the position of the monarch, the evolution of the bourgeoisie, and the stage of industrial capitalism in a given country. Both the British and the Russian monarchs personified their respective states, but their possibilities for exercising sovereign rights were quite different. Europe of the past century thus provides us with a picture of overlapping political cultures, lagging institutions, conflicting ideologies and compromising interests.


The nineteenth-century European political evolutions and revolutions make better sense if we keep in mind European traditions and class structures, which can further explain why the bourgeoisie flirted with the aristocracy and the clergy, its competitors for political power. Unlike the aristocracy and the clergy, the bourgeoisie could not claim authority on traditional and supernatural premises. If the bases of legitimization of power into authority and sovereignty were to be abruptly transferred from above (divine providence) to below (the people), the bourgeois would have to share power with the populace, the lower classes, the mob, which would submerge it. Indeed, this happened in the early 1640's in England when the Levellers and Diggers became momentarily prominent, and from 1792 to 1795 during the French Revolution. In early nineteenth-century Europe, then, with the emerging radical and socialist movements and destitute working classes, the bourgeoisie compromised with the clergy and the monarchy to preserve the social structure and the class system that advantaged its fortune and main­tained its kind of law and order: life, liberty (in the sense of liberal economy) and property. Thus, the consecration of royal divine rights was combined with the constitutionalization of "popular" rights into constitu­tional monarchies. The evolutions in Western European political culture seem more plastic in contrast with political developments in the United States and Russia which had their own particularities and, in a way, repre­sented different extremes: in the United States, an attenuated class struggle; in Russia, the rigidity and inflexibility of an absolute monarchy.


The United States and the Soviet Union


The United States, by its war of independence, broke from the European and more particularly the British traditional patterns of government. Its rela­tive lack of traditional class structure--which we discussed in Chapter Eight--the early development of bourgeois values among its population (a rather alert population because of its pioneering and Puritan character­istics), its immense resources and prospects for expansion and, as we pointed our, its natural inclinations for a social compact, were among the factors permitting the United States to base the legitimacy of its political authority structure on constitutionalization long before other Western countries. For divine consecration, it recognized the natural rights of men, as mentioned in the Declaration of Independence, as distinct from the divine right of kings. The revolt of the colonies in the context of the British kingdom corresponded to the political conformity/cleavage/revolution model.[62]


Except for one major snag, the American political structure after the revolu­tion was based on practical premises allowing American political culture to evolve towards a consensus/cleavage/dissent/(civil disobedience) pattern. the snag, of course, was the race problem, which had not preoccupied the founding fathers except for a few like Jefferson. The African forced-­migrants had slave status and were not included in the political process. But as we saw in Chapter Eight, the race question existed within the total social flux and was subject to its fluctuations. Not only was emancipation hard to avoid in a dynamic social context, but the very nature of social change precipitated it. In a society moving rapidly toward industrialization, the value of slave labor as an extension of northern industrial machines rather than of southern agricultural cattle was soon realized. The result was the bloody Civil War of 1861-1865. The reasons for the Civil War were, of course, not solely economic, and the Afro-Americans were neither cattle nor machines. Once the Civil War was over, within the range of conformity/ consensus/cleavage/dissent/civil disobedience/revolt, the American culture once again fluctuated toward the middle, notably in coping with racial problems, from "Uncle Tom" to the Black Panthers, with leaders like Booker T. Washington and Martin Luther King playing with and within the political structures to absorb and effect change.


Russia, on the other hand, presented the model most firmly clinging to archaic consecration. But that corresponded to Russian political culture, where most of the masses looked at the Tsar as the father of Russia, while the absolute monarchy laid a heavy hand on movements for emancipation of the serfs and social reforms. Yet in the total environment of Europe, the Western European political philosophies were bound to seep in. However, with a comparatively underdeveloped industry and few or no modern business structures, the Russian bourgeoisie had little opportunity to propagate its values among the masses, and had not itself assimilated the modern economic processes. The combination of monarchy/church/aristocracy/bourgeoisie leading to a constitutional monarchy did not materialize in the nineteenth and early twentieth-century Russian attempts. The bourgeoisie lacked a wide popular base, while the aristocracy remained selfish and aloof, and the Tsar, still the absolute ruler of a basically agrarian economy, was not ready to yield to any significant extent to bourgeois demands.


In the English civil war of the 1640's and the French Revolution of 1789, the radical movements were finally controlled when the upper classes (the traditional aristocracy, the clergy and the bourgeoisie) sensed the need for compromise and combinations. This process eventually developed into a pattern of Western European political culture. In the 1917 clashes in Russia, the monarchy, the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie, by remaining for the most part dissonant, permitted the radicals to take over.


The radicals (in this case communist in outlook) with their materialistic ideology had, of course, to do away with all supernatural premises of consecration of power into authority. Authority, accordingly, was to be the constitutionalization of the people's power--first that of the working class represented through the party and, when the classless society was achieved, direct communal authority. The realities of Soviet society, however, did not lend themselves to this ideal. The political conformist habits imposed by the Tsar for centuries, which had resulted in the cleavages leading to the October Revolution, were hard to break. The political culture could not gear overnight to a consensus/cleavage/dissent loop. Breaking the value system which had maintained the authority structure on the basis of consecration was not enough to initiate popular consciousness of political rights and, above all, responsibilities to create a peaceful, reasonable and stable process of constitutionalization.[63]


The base did not understand constitutionalization of the central authority. If the head was gone and there was no supernatural gimmick for replacing it, there would be many pretenders and social disruption. The Soviets were quick to realize this and the danger it presented, not only as an internal problem but also as foreign intrigues and encouragements. They soon elaborated their own "consecration" process which, having no recourse to the supernatural-which they had discarded--was based on ideology. Ideology became the dogma, the party its church, Marx, Engels and Lenin its trinity, and Stalin its pope emperor. In the post-Stalin era we have witnessed Soviet efforts toward further constitutionalization. The 1977 U. S.S.R. Constitution, while emphasizing the prerogatives of the state on the basis of scientific Marxism, lists an array of citizens' rights, from private property to family responsibilities, not without "bourgeois" characteristics. The implication here is that ideology can, as a value-crystallizing process, serve as the basis for "consecration" of authority. The "consecration" we are talking about here is, of course, different from the consecration process involving the supernatural. Retrospectively this process seems to be an interim episode which an economically, socially and politically underdeveloped country submitting to a communist-inspired regime is likely to go through. In his interview with Edgar Snow in 1970, Mao Tse-Tung reportedly confided candidly that some cult of personality was needed in China where people had been habituated for three thousand years to worship somebody or something, and it was only gradually that the masses could be educated to understand democratic values.[64]


*      *      *


Our brief review of the development of Western political culture has unrolled the legitimization of power into authority through consecration and constitutionalization with their underlying spiritual, traditional, contractual and representational dimensions. In the course of our analysis we came across the development of the crucial phenomena of the bourgeoisie, sovereignty and statehood. Our inquiry further affirmed that authority is not a simple political product but a reflection of cultural complexities such as value systems, class structures and economics. Let us explore these paradigms further in the next chapter to see their influence and integration within the socio-political flux.


[1] Our study of political culture starts at its elemental level, i.e., it follows the evolution of its own components. For a study (with an American bias) of modern political culture see Gabriel A. Almond and Sidney Verlia, The Civic Culture (Boston: Little Brown, 1965); and for a review of studies which have conveyed political culture in terms of development, mainly in the "Third World," see Samuel P. Huntington and Jorge I. Dominguez, "Political Development," in Fred I. Greenstein and Nelson W. Polsby, eds., Macropolitical Theory, Vol. 3 of Handbook of Political Science (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1975), pp. 1-114.

[2] For other approaches to the concept of authority, see notably Carl J. Friedrich, ed., Authority (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1958); Lasswell and Kaplan, Power and Society, pp. 133 ff.; Alexander Passerin d'Entrèves, The Notion of the State: An Introduction to Political Theory (Oxford: Clarendon, 1967), notably pp. 153 ff.

[3] According to one definition, "Authority...denotes a relationship of inequality between two or more actors measured by unquestioning acceptance of communications or compliance with decisions issued by one actor, a relationship which is perceived as legitimate by all actors involved." Alfred G. Meyer, "Authority in Communist Political Systems," in L. J. Edinger, ed., Political Leadership in Industrialized Societies (New York: Wiley, 1967), p. 84.

[4] We have chosen "consecration" and "constitutionalization" to designate the different processes of legitimization, instead of "sanctification" and "institutionalization" used by some authors, because of the prefix con- (in Latin com-) which signifies "together." Thus our terms contain the notion of the additional dimension needed for legitimizing power into authority. While a power may institute a body to carry out its orders, it does not necessarily make that institution an authority. For that, it needs some degree of noncoerced recognition and acceptance on the part of those who submit to it. It is together that they may "consecrate" or "constitute" an authority.  For a discussion of some aspects of the subject, see Robert Bierstadt, "The Problem of Authority," in Morroe Berger, Theodore Abel and Charles H. Page, eds., Freedom and Control in Modern Society (New York: Van Nostrand, 1954), pp. 67-81.

[5] The Discourses, T, II.

[6] Leviathan, Part I, Ch. 12.

[7] On the authority content of mana see notably Emile Durkheim, Elementary Forms of Religious Life (Glencoe, I11.: Free Press, n.d.), where on p. 213, quoting Treagear's Maori Comparative Dictionary, he points out that mana originally had the sense of authority in the Polynesian language. On the primeval conception of authority see also Philip E. Slater, Microcosm: Structural, Psychological, and Religious Evolution in Groups (New York: Wiley, 1966); and R. A. Rappaport, "The Sacred in Human Evolution," in Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics II, (1971), pp. 23-44. For the religious content of the U. S. political system, see Church of the Holy Trinity v. United States (1892), 143 U.S. 457, where the Supreme Court held that from the commission of Columbus and the Declaration of Independence down to the constitutions of the various states of the union there is a "profound reverence for religion and an assumption that its influence in all human affairs is essential to the well-being of the community." It is interesting to note, however, that no mention of any supernatural power is made in the Constitution of the United States, save for the "year of our Lord" in the date of the signature.

[8] Steward, Theory of Culture Change, p. 182; see Ch. 11 on "Development of Complex Societies: Cultural Causality and Law: A Trial Formulation of the Development of Early Civilizations," pp. 178-209.

[9] Ryusaku Tsunoda, William Theodore de Bary and Donald Keene, eds., Sources of Japanese Tradition (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1958), I, 59.

[10] Gérard de Villiers et al., The Imperial Shah: An Informal Biography (Boston: Little, Brown, 1976), pp. 32 ff.

[11] Romila Thapar, A History of India, I (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1966), 39.

[12] The City of God, Bk. XIX, 17

[13] Gelasius, Tractatus, IV, Letter 11.

[14] De Monarchia, Bk. I, Ch. TI; and Bk. III, Ch. XVI. 

[15] See, for example, Mohammed Reza Shah Pahlavi, Mission for My Country (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1961), pp. 54 ff. and Oriana Fallaci Interview with History (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1977), pp. 267-269.

[16] For a general discussion of feudality, see Carl Stephanson, Medieval Feudalism (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell Univ. Press, 1942); and his Medieval Institutions (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell Univ. Press, 1954).

[17] Defensor Pacis, Discourse One: Chs. 12-18.

[18] It must be pointed out that although the British Parliament has often been called the mother of parliaments, it is not the oldest parliamentary body in Europe. Scandinavian countries had created such bodies earlier. The oldest of them was the Icelandic Allthing, established in 930.

[19] Sir John Fortescue, A Learned Commendation of the Politique Lawes of England (New York: Da Capo, 1969), Ch. 9.

[20] See our later discussion of sovereignty. The Peace of Augsburg of 1555 recognized the right of the princes to introduce the Reformation into their lands (jus reformandi) and endorsed the principle of "cuius regio, eius religio"--that the prince's religion was the official religion of the land.

[21] Christopher Hill, The Century of Revolution, 1603-1714 (New York: Norton, 1966), p. 176.

[22] Summa Theologica, Part I of Second Part, Question 94, 2.

[23] Sir William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England, I (1765), Introduction, Sec. III.

[24] Summa Theologica, Part T of Second Part, Question 96, 4.

[25] Quoted in Catherine Drinker Bowen, The Lion and the Throne: The Life and Times of Sir Edward Coke (Boston: Little, Brown, 1956), p. 291.

[26] From The People's Ancient and Just Liberties Asserted in the Tryal of William Penn and William Mead (1670), p. 10. The case of William Penn, who was tried for causing a riot for having preached Quaker ideas in the street, was a significant turning point in British common law. The jury upheld its "not guilty" verdict against the wishes of the Recorder, did not give in to the latter's intimidations, and later successfully sued him in the higher courts for illegal action.

[27] The Six Bookes of a Commonweale, Bk. I, Ch. 8.

[28] Ibid

[29] Ibid.

[30]. On sovereignty see notably Harold J. Laski, The Foundations of Sovereignty (London: Allen & Unwin, 1921); Bertrand de Jouvenel, Sovereignty: An Inquiry into Political Good (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1957); and for a treatment of modern problems of sovereignty see Georg Schwarzenberger, "The Forms of Sovereignty: An Essay in Comparative Jurisprudence," in Current Legal Problems, 10:264-295 (1957).

[31] In his De Jure Belli ac Pacis Libri Tres (1625), the Dutch scholar Hugo Grotius (1583-1645), relying on ideas already advanced by other scholars and lawyers such as Suarez, Victoria, Gentilis and Ayala, developed the basic concept of an international law to regulate the relations of sovereign states in peace as well as in war.  For a recent normative approach to the topic, see Hans Kelsen, "Sovereignty and International Law," The Georgetown Law Journal, 48:627-640 (1960).

[32] Leviathan, Part II, Ch. 18.

[33] For a discussion of the impact of the world trade on the evolution of Europe see Immanuel Wallerstein, The Modern World System (New York: Academic Press, 1974).

[34] "The secret of great government is to know exactly how much future one can pour into the present. Always put some future in what you do, but measure the dose."

[35] We are using "conformity" here in the sense of political obedience, not necessarily in terms of moral and ethical standards, although generally political conformity will generate social conformity and vice versa.

[36] Western culture is meant here in the broad sense of European culture, extending to America and Russia.

[37] For other variations on the theme see Talcott Parsons, The System of Modern Societies (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1971).

[38] Fox this and other passages about the contemporary analysis of the English civil wars of the mid-seventeenth century, see Hill, The Century of Revolution, pp. 123 ff.

[39] See, for example, G. P. Gooch, English Democratic Ideas in the Seventeenth Century (New York: Harper & Row, 1959).

[40] The Levellers reached the height of their political influence during the English civil war years of 1642-1649. The Diggers movement started in 1649 when a small group of dissenting Levellers went to St. George's Hill in Surrey where they dug up and planted some uncultivated land for their susten­ance (the army soon evicted them). The Diggers' basic doctrine was communal ownership of the means of production, notably land.

[41] Hill, The Century of Revolution, p. 308.

[42] See notably Richard I. Aaron, John Locke, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1955).

[43] Locke, Of Civil Government, Ch. VII, Para. 87 ff. See also the term original contract in the Convention Parliament's declaration of 1689, supra, P.

[44] Benedict Spinoza, Tractatus Theologico-Politicus (1670), Ch. 16.


[45] See, for example, C. B. MacPherson, The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism: Hobbes to Locke (Oxford: Clarendon, 1962); and for a different approach see John Dunn, The Political Thought of John Locke (London: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1969).

[46] For a discussion of the Lockean influence on American political thought, see Hartz, The Liberal Tradition in America.

[47] None of Anne Stuart's children survived her. Consequently, at her death, according to the act of succession excluding the Catholic line, the crown went to the Protestant branch which, after three generations in Germany, had become strongly Germanized.

[48] Walter Bagehot, The English Constitution (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1963), pp. 9-10.

[49] The Chartrist Agitation of 1839 was inspired by a charter drawn up by the Workingmen's Association in London in 1836 which, among other things, demanded voting by ballot, manhood suffrage, and abolition of property qualifications for election to Parliament. The charter was presented in 1838 to the Parliament, which rejected it. Thereupon riots broke out in different parts of the country. The Corn Law was a protectionist measure passed in 1815 barring the import of foreign grain as long as the home-grown grain price had not become too high.

[50] Percy Bysshe Shelley, "England in 1819." The Peterloo Massacre took place August 16, 1819, at a meeting in Manchester protesting the Corn Law and demanding parliamentary reform. The soldiers who had been sent to arrest the speaker opened fire on the crowd, killing several and injuring hundreds.

[51] On the variations in states and their evolutions see, for example, Joseph Strayer, Medieval Statecraft and the Perspectives of History (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1971).

[52] Louis XIII was only 13 years old and the affairs of the state were run by his mother, Marie de Medic is, who relied on the Italian Concini, who in turn paid the aristocrats for obeying.

[53] The Army Reforms of 1445-1446 had established the first permanent royal army under Charles VII, while Louis XI (1461-1483), whom the Estates-General of 1469 had asked to rule the country without them in the future, framed the recognized rights of the king to the taille, a direct land tax paid by the peasants but not by the clergy and aristocracy, and to the indirect taxes (aides) and salt tax (gabelle) to which other taxes were added in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, continuing up to the French Revolution.

[54] See notably Bk. XI, Ch. 6 of De l'Esprit des Lois.

[55] Jean Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract and Discourses (New York: Dutton, 1950), pp. 14-15, 17, 30.

[56] See, for example, Jacques Godechot, The Taking of the Bastille (New York: Scribner, 1970).

[57] Rousseau, "A Discourse on the Origin and Foundation of Inequality Among Men: (1755) in The Social Contract and Discourses, pp. 234-235.

[58] The case of the "Equals" reveals this trend. This secret society was inspired by Noël Babeuf (1764-1797) who preached egalitarian communism and published a radical paper in Paris, The Tribune of the People, deploring the end of the Reign of Terror. His society, which was 17,000 strong, had planned to overthrow the government in 1797, but the plot was discovered. Babeuf was arrested and sent to the guillotine.

[59] See Camus, The Rebel, for an inspiring discussion of the case.

[60] Such structures included traditional patterns like the Council of the Elders (Conseil des Anciens, 1795) or a Senate and election of the notables (1799).

[61] Indeed, in the case of Kossut's short-lived Hungarian Republic of 1849, Franz Joseph of Austria accepted the offer of Tsar Nicholas of Russia to send troops to help the Austrian troops crush the Hungarian revolution.

[62] There was political conformity in, for example, the American bourgeoisie's submission to British rule, the earlier tolerance of the closing of the House of Burgesses, and various taxes.

[63] See, for example, Lukacs, History and Class Consciousness, notably the chapter on "Legality and Illegality," pt. 3, pp. 266-270.

[64] Edgar Snow, The Long Revolution (New York: Vintage, 1973), p. 169.