PREFACE

Interest in the ideas of Johannes Althusius has been growing, as Professor Carney notes in his introduction. The sociological, as well as the political, dimension of the Politics is being recognized. Along with this growing interest in his writings, significant progress has been achieved in better understanding his historical setting and political work, especially that at the city of Emden. A learned society has been founded in Germany, the Johannes Althusius Gesellschaft, which is undertaking to edit unpublished manuscript material, as well as to prepare critical editions of the Politics and other writings.^[1] I myself hope to publish in book form a much enlarged edition of my 1932 introduction to the Politics. Hence the present English translation of Althusius' major work is most welcome. It is, as the translator points out, the first time that the book appears to any extent in a modern vernacular (a German edition is planned). This fate is not as extraordinary as it may seem. Jean Bodin's even more important work has been available in English only in the seventeenth-century translation by Richard Knolles,^[2] though of course it was originally published in French. But there are other very important writings of the period that have remained inaccessible to those who cannot or do not care to grapple with the original Latin. As Professor Carney points out, this is in part due to the tedious style which many of the legal and political writers then employed (and still do, I fear).

Professor Carney has considerably improved the readability of Althusius' work. The explanation which he has given for the various solutions he adopted in making this translation seem to me on the whole convincing. There is, as I know from personal experience, no one satisfactory way of translating. It is eloquent testimony to the complexity of word meanings in all languages that even the most learned and skilled translators will often disagree on the right way of rendering words, phrases, and sentences into another tongue. Professor Carney is to be congratulated upon the results of his labours. Besides, his introduction provides a well-balanced review of the major positions and the sequel of Althusius' argument.

Perhaps I may be permitted to emphasize two aspects which have considerably contributed to Althusius' increasing fame: his federalism and his legal philosophy. Neither Plato nor Aristotle, nor the many political writers following in their footsteps in classical antiquity, including the Stoics, developed a concept of federalism. This failure is as striking as the more frequently mentioned failure to elaborate the notion of representation. The practical attempts that were made to unite Greece in city leagues failed, perhaps in part as a result of this theoretical inadequacy. It was only in the Middle Ages that the idea began to unfold, as the politics of the great city leagues, especially in Germany, challenged the attention of theorists. Gierke even went so far as to state that the Middle Ages attained 'a construction of the social whole which in effect was federalistic through and through,'^[3] although he was certainly ready to recognize the medieval disposition to see things 'whole'. But this was an 'organic articulation in unity and a relative independence of members'^[4] as more especially expounded by Nicolas Cusanus. Be that as it may, the consciously federal principle was asserted by Althusius against the centralizing implications of the idea of sovereignty, especially as it had been formulated by Bodin.

In developing this principle, he implemented a basic position implied in the political views of John Calvin. Partial to the self-contained republic of the Genevan model, Calvin's thought (as Zwingli's before him) favoured the federation of such republics for defence and other common concerns. This idea becomes a persistent strand, culminating in the theories of Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Kant. In Calvin's as in Althusius' political outlook, this defensive federalism was reinforced by the recognition of the protective role of guardians of a constitutional order, such as the ephors of ancient Sparta to whom Calvin had referred. For Calvin, the idea was no doubt suggested by the need of federating the self-contained congregations in a universal church. Broadly putting it, one could say that the spiritual as well as bodily survival called for a federal union of religio-political communities. The actual politics of the Swiss Confederation may have played a significant part in providing concrete background as well; in Althusius' day, the federal union of the Netherlands no doubt served to strengthen this conviction, since these Dutch had so dramatically demonstrated the point in their successful fight against the most powerful state of the time. It is not for nothing that Althusius dedicated a later edition of his work to the Estates of Frisia, one of the members of the Dutch confederation.

Althusius, fully familiar with the politics of both Switzerland and the Netherlands, though neither Swiss nor Dutch, was in an unusual position for discovering the pluralistic principle which these confederations had in common with the ancient empire. The strain to which the Bodinian doctrine of sovereignty was put by these political entities called for a federal re-evaluation. This discovery was clothed by Althusius in his doctrine of the 'symbiotic association', the community of men living together and united by real bonds which a contract of union, expressed or implied, institutionalized. What Althusius undertook to do was to interpret all political life in terms of the pactum, the bond of contractual union. Beginning with the family as such a natural and co-organic entity,^[5] he suggested that on successive levels of political community those who live together in order and harmony and whom he called 'symbiotes' are united by a pact, expressed or implied, to share things in pursuit of common interests and utility. The village was for him a federal union of families, as was the guild; the town a union of guilds; the province a union of towns and villages; the kingdom or state a union of such provinces; and the empire a union of such states and free cities. In a sense, this was a concept which transformed into a cooperative constitutional order the feudal hierarchy of successive levels of lord and vassal as mirrored in the medieval writings already alluded to. In his introduction Professor Carney develops in greater detail how this theory is worked out. The key to this concept of federalism is that on all levels the union is composed of the units of the preceding lower level. Thus, when we arrive at the top, the members of a state are neither individual persons nor families, but are politically organized collectivities, namely, the provinces and cities. This construction contrasts sharply with the later American concept of a federal union composed not only of states, but of individual citizens as well. This does not mean, as the Federalist argued against the Confederation, that the union is less closely knit, but rather that the pactum foederis or Bund (bond of union) is conceived in less purposive and individualistic terms; it is merely the outward form, the institutionalized framework of an existential communal reality. This reality consists in the sharing of values, interests, and beliefs — to use modern terminology for Althusius' communicatio mutua rerum, operarum et juris — i.e., it is existential community. As such, it transcends the wilful determination of the participants; it comes into being as part of their very nature, and merely needs to be recognized and consciously organized in the pactum or bond of union which makes it explicit.

The federal principle is explicitly applied also to the growth of a territorial dominion, and here the distinction between the federal and the confederal union, as it has been called in modern parlance, is explicitly developed. However, the distinction is more sensibly put by Althusius as a confederation which is either full (plena) or not-full (non-plena). These terms bring out much better the relative character of the difference. As Althusius develops it, the distinction between the full (Carney suggests: complete) and the not-full (Carney suggests: partial) confederation resembles that later made between the Bundesstaat and Staatenbund, between the federal and confederal union, because it turns upon whether the confederates retain their sovereign rights, their jura majestatis, or not.^[6] What matters more is that through this notion of an extension of government by consensual federation the basic solution to ever-widening political cooperation is indicated. It is evident that such a federal construction of the political order, pluralistic to the core, must assign a central role to the law. The command theory of law as the creation of the legislative sovereign has to be modified and transcended, though not necessarily abandoned. Althusius speaks expressly of the potestas imperandi. The medieval tradition of law as embodied in immemorial custom, expressive of reason and related to the universal order preordained by a benevolent Deity, is here secularized and humanized in terms of effective participation of the fellow members in successive layers of community. Such legislation expresses the special sovereign law which is embedded in a general sovereign law and right; both belong to the people, understood as the collectivity of corporate members, not of the individual persons. Law as the product of such special sovereignty is consensual within the context of the general law, which the reason that is embodied in the Decalogue prescribes. This view is, of course, the doctrine expounded by Calvin in partial modification of Luther's views. The divine law of the Decalogue makes explicit what reason could teach the natural man. As is well-known, this doctrine goes back through St. Augustine to St. Paul. The important and distinctly Althusian doctrine is that which insists upon the participation of all in the shaping of those special laws, though the participation of the individual persons (singuli) occurs only indirectly through the lower corporate entities to which they belong. Such special laws are seen as 'explaining' the Decalogue, and as 'accommodating' it to the circumstances of place, time, and so forth. They may somewhat depart (recedere) from the mortal law, as stated in the Decalogue, adding or detracting, but they must not be wholly contrary to natural law and moral equity.^[7] In order to make sure of that, sanctions are needed and guardians must see to it that the basic order is not violated. Althusius elaborated Calvin's hint about the ephors in light of the writings on the right of resistance which the previous generation had produced. There emerges here, although not yet too distinctly, the notion of a constitutional legislation which provides the basic order for the political community.

The idea of such a constituent power constitutes a significant restatement of the Bodinian concept of sovereignty in terms which hint at a democratic order. They are positions which English writers and lawyers were going to develop within the framework set by Fortescue and Sir Thomas Smith — the latter being a source of Althusius' views on the English constitution. Among the writings of this turbulent period of English history, the anonymous book by Samuel Rutherford, entitled Lex, Rex: The Law and the Prince; A Dispute for the Just Prerogative of Kings and People (1644), comes perhaps closest to the Althusian position. It is not surprising, since Rutherford was a leading Presbyterian. His views were elaborated and radicalized by John Milton. I might add that Althusius' position, in theory and practice, also has parallels in the writers defending Swedish and Polish constitutionalism, as represented in the Estates and orders. His position also lived on in the political tradition of the Netherlands and Switzerland. These few remarks are only meant to highlight two key issues which are part of Althusius' contribution to the history of political thought. It remains to express my highest appreciation to the editor-translator of this English edition, and to the publisher who is willing to present a work to the English reader now which might with great profit have been put out three hundred years earlier or even before.

Carl J. Friedrich
Department of Government
Harvard University

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1. The Politics, in its version of 1614, has also been integrally reprinted by Scientia Verlag. The Gesellschaft came into being as a result of the devoted efforts of Professor Dr Scupin of the University of Munich. For historical background, cf. Heinz Antholz, 'Die politische Wirksamkeit des Johannes Althusius in Emden' in Abhandlungen und Vortr?ge zur Geschichte Ostfrieslands, Heft XXXII (1955).

2. See the splendid new edition of this translation by Kenneth Douglas McRae, with a learned introduction by him. (See Appendix II.)

3. Otto Gierke, The Development of Political Theory, translated by Bernard Freyd (1939), p. 257. This book is a translation of Johannes Althusius und die Entwicklund der naturrechtlichen Staatstheorien.

4. Ibid., p. 277.

5. This term, expressive of the combination of organic and purposive elements in political association, was first proposed in William Y. Elliott's pathfinding study The Pragmatic Revolt in Politics (1928), especially pp. 352 ff.

6. See Chapter XVII.

7. Mr Carney has done well to include these paragraphs in his selections, for they constitute a crucial point. (see Chapter XXI.) For an elaboration of Bodin's position, see my The Philosophy of Law in Historical Perspective (1958; 1963), Chapter VIII.

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TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION

The New Interest in the Political Theory of Althusius

Johannes Althusius has enjoyed the good fortune in recent times of frequent notice in political, theological, sociological, and historical writings. This has been true ever since Otto Gierke in the latter part of the nineteenth century recovered Althusius from two centuries of relative obscurity, and attributed to his Politics (Politica methodice digesta) the distinction of making one of the pivotal contributions to Western political thought. He saw in Althusius a seminal thinker who was enabled by an exceptional learning in law, theology, politics, and history to formulate a political theory that served as something of a culmination of medieval social thought and a watershed of modern political ideas. The chief features of this theory, Gierke felt, were to be found in its contractual and natural law principles.

The renewal of interest in Althusius was given further impetus by the labours of Carl Joachim Friedrich, who in 1932 not only republished the largest part of the 1614 edition of the Politics in its original language, but also provided for it an introduction that considerably advanced our knowledge of Althusius' life as well as his thought. Friedrich focused attention on the concept of the symbiotic association as the foundation of Althusian theory, and on the Calvinist religion as interpretative of this concept. In so doing, he differed quite noticeably from Gierke in his understanding of Althusius' political theory. Nevertheless, he shared with Gierke a very high estimate of Althusius' importance, even to the extent of considering him to be 'the most profound political thinker between Bodin and Hobbes'.

In addition to Gierke and Friedrich, the two persons who have done most to establish Althusius' reputation in the contemporary world, there is also a small but growing and impressive group of scholars from various political and religious traditions who have devoted considerable attention to his thought. The names of John Neville Figgis, R. W. and A. J. Carlyle, Pierre Mesnard, Erik Wolf, Ernst Reibstein, Peter Jochen Winters, and others whose works are listed in Appendix III of this translation testify to this. These men have addressed themselves to a range of topics in Althusian scholarship that reflects the wide scope of his thought. Included among such topics have been the constitutionalism of Althusius, the relation in his thought of philosophical norms to political processes, the contributions of Althusius to jurisprudence, his theory of associations, the Calvinist religious elements in his political theory, the role of the Spanish school of social philosophy at Salamanca in the development of his thought, and Althusius' employment of his own political teachings while serving as syndic of the city of Emden for thirty-four years.

It is a striking feature of Althusian studies, however, that until now there has not been a published translation of a substantial part of the Politics in any vernacular language. Wolf translated a few pages into German from the 1603 edition, and included them in a collection of juridical writings by various authors that he published in 1943. Friedrich circulated in mimeographed form ten pages of selections he put into English from the 1614 edition. And Father Stanley Parry translated, and at times paraphrased, major portions of the 1614 edition for a privately used English typescript in connection with his doctoral studies on Althusius at Yale University. But so far as I am aware, this abridged translation represents the first published attempt in a modern language to present in Althusius' own words the entire basic structure of his political thought, as well as the chief arguments by which he compared and contrasted his own position with that of his contemporaries. The reason why such a translation has not been attempted before may well be because of some unusual problems it presents to the translator. I shall discuss these problems, as well as the justification for abridging the original work, in the final section of this introduction.

It may be helpful in concluding this section to note briefly some of the most important facts of the life of this man whose thought is now acquiring new attention among scholars in a number of disciplines. Little is known of the early years of Althusius' life, except that he was born in Diedenshausen in Westphalia about 1557. He appeared in 1581 at Cologne, where he apparently studied the writings of Aristotle. It was at Basle, however, that he received his doctorate in both civil and ecclesiastical law in 1586, with a thesis on the subject of intestate inheritance. Surprisingly, he published De artejurisprudentiae Romanae, his first book, during the same year. While at Basle he lived for a time in the home of Johann Grynaeus, with whom he studied theology and thereafter maintained a life-long correspondence. Sometime prior to obtaining his doctorate, Althusius also studied at Geneva with Denis Godefroy, the renowned textual scholar of Roman Law.

Upon receiving his doctorate, he was called to the Reformed Academy at Herborn as a member of the faculty of law. Herborn Academy, which had been founded only two years earlier (1584) by Count John of Nassau, had become immediately successful and had attracted an international student body. Its first rector was Kasper Olevianus, the co-author with Zachary Ursinus of the Heidelberg Catechism. Althusius, in addition to his professorship in law, became councillor to the count in 1595 and, after some months of theological study at Heidelberg, was made rector of the Academy in 1597. His volume on ethics — entitled De civile conversatione — was published in 1601. But the greatest achievement of his Herborn years was the publication in 1603 of the Politics, a work that received immediate and wide attention.

The Politics seems to have been instrumental in securing for Althusius a most attractive offer to become Syndic of Emden in East Friesland. This city had been one of the first in Germany (1526) to embrace the Reformed faith. Ever since John Laski had been invited to Emden in 1542 by Countess Anna to reorganize its religious life, it had become a veritable 'Geneva of the North'. Its strategic location on the frontiers of both the German Empire and the Netherlands gave it freedom of movement vis-?-vis its Lutheran provincial lord and its Catholic emperor. At the same time, its strong Calvinist spirit enabled it to exercise an exceptional influence in key areas of the Netherlands and Germany. Indeed, Emden was often called the 'alma mater' of the Dutch Reformed Church, for it was from Emden that some of the early Dutch ministers came, and at Emden that many exiles from the Duke of Alva's persecution later found refuge. Moreover, at the Synod of Emden in 1571 the Reformed churches of East Friesland and the Lower Rhine joined with the Dutch churches to form a union of the largest part of Northern Calvinism. Furthermore, Emden was a leading seaport, in close communication with England, and it served as a haven for a number of English divines during the Catholic reaction under Mary Tudor.

Recently, however, Emden had encountered increasingly serious conflicts with its provincial lord, as well as with various larger and more powerful units of the German Empire and Spanish Kingdom. The City Council was consequently seeking an exceptionally able leader to guide its negotiations and destiny. Johann Alting, a son of Emden's distinguished clergyman Menso Alting and one of a number of students from Emden studying law under Althusius at Herborn, apparently sent copies of the Politics home as soon as it was published. The favourable reception by Emdanians of the ideas on government expressed in this volume, coupled with Althusius' growing juristic reputation, led the City Council to invite him to become the Syndic of Emden.

He accepted the offer in 1604, and guided the political destinies of this city without interruption until his death in 1638. During the years of his service in Emden, he published two new and enlarged editions of the Politics (1610 and 1614), and also wrote the Dicaelogicae (1618), an immense work that seeks to construct a single comprehensive juridical system out of Biblical law, Roman law, and various customary laws. In 1617 Althusius was elected elder of the church of Emden, a position he continued to hold until his death twenty-one years later. There is a sense in which his two functions of syndic and elder, coupled with capacities for leadership and hard work, enabled him to coordinate the civil and ecclesiastical jurisdictions of the city, and thus to exercise somewhat the same kind of influence in Emden as Calvin did in Geneva. His correspondence contains frequent condemnations of Arminian theological opinions, and in one letter he especially criticized the Pietas of Hugo Grotius on the basis that it would undermine the independent right and liberty of the church by transferring ecclesiastical functions to civil government.

The Basic Structure of His Thought

Althusius consciously organized his Politics according to Ramist logic. This is the explanation for the words 'methodically set forth' in the title, and for the references occasionally found throughout the text to 'the law of method' and 'the precepts of logicians'. Peter Ramus, a celebrated and highly controversial French logician of the sixteenth century, made use of the two traditional topics of logic: invention and disposition (or judgment). What was largely new with Ramus, however, was the manner in which he employed these two topics. Where invention had previously been understood as the processes for combining predicates with subjects in debatable propositions, under the influence of Ramism it also came to denote the processes for determining what material belongs to subjects as scholarly disciplines. And where disposition had previously referred to methods of arranging propositions into syllogisms or inductions, and these into discourses, with Ramism it also came to refer to the methods of organizing material appropriate to any given discipline. The change that has occurred is one in which logic is used to clarify not only what may be said for or against propositions and combinations of propositions, but also how a field of study may be 'logically' organized. An assumption inherent in Ramism is that proper organization of materials is valuable not only for teaching and learning purposes, but also for the discovery and clarification of knowledge.

Ramus' interpretation of invention made use of three laws he adapted from Aristotle's Posterior Analytics. (1) The law of justice (lex justitiae) indicates that each art or science has its own purpose, that this purpose serves as a principle for determining what is proper to a given art (suum cuique), and that everything not proper to it is to be rigorously excluded. Althusius' employment of the Ramist law of justice is introduced initially in the Preface to the first edition, where he says that 'it is necessary to keep constantly in view the natural and true goal and form of each art, and to attend most carefully to them, that we not exceed the limits justice lays down for each art and thereby reap another's harvest'. The purpose of political science, according to Althusius, is the maintenance of social life among men. He therefore proposes to remove certain legal, theological, and ethical material from it by which others in his judgment had confused and compromised its proper operation. He acknowledges, however, that two disciplines may have partly overlapping subject matter, as theology and political science share the Decalogue, and law and political science jointly embrace the doctrine of sovereignty. But he insists that each discipline must limit itself to that aspect of the common material that is essential to its own purpose, and to reject what is not. (2) The Ramist law of truth (lex veritatis) indicates that an art or science consists of universal and necessary propositions or precepts, and that those that are true only in certain places and times should be sifted out. For Althusius the problem was what to do with such politically relevant, but nevertheless contingent, matters as the varying character and customs of rulers and peoples. 'Who can propose general precepts,' he asks, 'that are necessarily and mutually true about matters so various and unequivalent? The statesman, however, should be well acquainted with these matters.' His solution is to retain some of these matters in his Politics for expedient reasons, but with advance warning to his readers concerning their quasi-scientific nature. They are especially to be found in the chapters on 'Political Prudence in the Administration of the Commonwealth'. (3) Ramus' law of wisdom (lex sapientiae) indicates that a proposition should be placed with the nearest class of things to which it belongs rather than with matters on a higher or lower level of generality. Although Althusius nowhere explicitly discusses this law, it is evident that he consistently employs it. For example, there are no propositions referring chiefly and generically to the city to be found in his opening discussion of politics in general. They are too restrictive for this level because politics also includes other associations in addition to the city. Nor are they to be located in his discussion of the rural village. They are too extensive for this level because other kinds of local community also qualify as cities. Rather all such propositions will be found in his discussion of the non-universal public association that is composed of families and collegia. They belong precisely to this level, as they do to no other. Althusius' use of the Ramist law of wisdom gives to the Politics a highly architectonic quality, even though the effect sometimes impresses the reader as somewhat superficial.

The most distinctive feature of the Ramist interpretation of disposition is its emphasis upon method. And this Althusius clearly appropriates. Ramus had written that those who think wisely and methodically 'descend from the most general idea to the various divisions thereof, and thence to the particular cases it comprehends'. (Dialectique, 1555, p. 4.) Althusius opens the Politics with a general proposition that indicates the fundamental insight regarding the nature of political science that will be pursued throughout this inquiry, and suggests by implication the limits that will be observed. He then proceeds by dividing and repeatedly subdividing the subject matter, each subdivision in turn opening with a sub-proposition relating to the general proposition and defining the appropriate material therein. He pursues this method with a tiresome regularity throughout the entire volume until the full implications of the opening proposition have been diligently sought out in their application to all forms and activities of political association.

'Politics is the art of associating men for the purpose of establishing, cultivating, and conserving social life among them. Whence it is called "symbiotics".' This is the general proposition for the entire volume. It stands at the beginning of Chapter I, and guides and controls everything that follows. By referring to politics as symbiotics (or the art of living together), and to social life as symbiosis (or living together), Althusius means to include all human associations in his study. These he divides into simple and private associations (family and collegium), and mixed and public associations (city, province, and commonwealth). The latter are discussed in both civil and ecclesiastical aspects because provision for both body and soul are deemed essential to public social life. Although the concentration of this volume is upon the commonwealth, Althusius clearly believes that these other associations are the parts out of which, indirectly and directly, the commonwealth is composed, and that they furthermore share common problems of political organization with the commonwealth. Indeed, by first setting forth the principles by which these problems are to be met in the smaller associations, Althusius anticipates the major features of his discussion of the commonwealth except for the addition of the attribute of sovereignty, which is proper to the commonwealth alone.

Symbiotic association involves something more than mere existence together. It indicates a quality of group life characterized by piety and justice without which, Althusius believes, neither man nor society can endure. He repeatedly asserts that piety is required by the first table of the Decalogue and justice by the second, and that the two together are furthermore validated in the experience of men everywhere. Thus both divine revelation and natural reason are called upon in political science to clarify the true nature of symbiotic association.

Wherever there is symbiosis there is also communication, or the sharing of things, services, and right. (The Latin word jus employed in this connection means both right and law.) Although politics is properly involved in each of these three forms of communication, it has one basic concern with them, namely, the effective ordering of all communication. Therefore, politics is not interested in the goods of the tradesman or the skills of the craftsman, except inasmuch as these goods and skills must be socially regulated for the benefit both of the individual and of the association. Thus politics may be distinguished from economics. The communication of right (jus), however, is proper to politics in an even more basic manner. For by this kind of communication each association is given its political structure, and achieves that form of self-sufficiency appropriate to it. The right that is communicated is in part common to all associations, in part special to each type of association, and in part particular to each individual association.

Communication requires imperium, or strong rule, to be effective. Althusius has no interest at all in theories about the rights of men. What does interest him is the extent to which any association fulfills the purposes for which it exists. In this sense, an association has a holy vocation even as a person does. Consequently, Althusius is opposed to tyrannical rule not because it is undemocratic, but because it becomes ineffective in supporting the ends for which men enter and remain in association with each other. He is opposed, for the same reason, to weak and vacillating rule. His interest in constitutional limitations upon the abuse of power arises from his concern that power be truly and lawfully strong. It is therefore characteristic of his thought that he advocates institutionalized restraints upon rulers in order to maintain effective symbiosis. Such restraints are intended to conserve lawful rule in an association, and when necessary to correct or remove an erring ruler, but not to weaken the exercise of rule itself.

Men enter and remain in association with each other because outside of the mutual communication of things, services, and right they cannot live comfortably and well; indeed, they cannot live at all. Necessity therefore induces association. But the existence of each individual association, as well as the special form it takes, also depends upon the continuing consent of the symbiotes, or members. Althusius is thus led to say that an association is initiated and maintained by a covenant among the symbiotes setting forth their common agreement about the necessary and useful purposes to be served by the association, and the means appropriate to fulfill these purposes. If there is no explicit covenant, then an implicit one is assumed in the continuing consent of those who live together. Symbiotic association thus requires a balance between social necessity and social volition.

When Althusius distinguishes the two types of private association as the natural and the civil, he is setting forth the two poles in this balance. The family, as the natural private association, is considered to be a permanent union of the members 'with the same boundaries as life itself. The collegium, as the civil private association, is a more voluntary society 'that need not last as long as the lifetime of man', even though 'a certain necessity can be said to have brought it into existence'. Even within each of these two associations there is some balance between necessity and volition. For the family, however natural, is based upon a tacit or expressed agreement among its members as to the manner of its communication of things, services, and right. The continued existence of the family tends to confirm this agreement. On the other hand, the collegium is not completely voluntary. It arises from a natural need, and presumably is not to be disbanded unless alternative means are available to meet this need. This integral relationship between necessity and volition that first finds expression in private associations carries over into public associations, and becomes one of the distinctive characteristics of the entire associational theory of Althusius.

Althusius divides the family into two kinds — conjugal and kinship — and discusses the nature of communication and imperium in each. Although the husband is clearly the ruler of the conjugal family, and the paterfamilias the ruler of the kinship family, Althusius is careful to set forth the conjugal obligations that the husband owes his wife, as well as those the wife owes her husband, and the kinship obligations that both husband and wife as paterfamilias and materfamilias owe their children and domestics.

The collegium (guild or corporation) is an association in which 'three or more men of the same trade, training, or profession are united for the purpose of holding in common such things they jointly profess as duty, way of life, or craft'. It is most often an association organized around occupational interests. If it is composed of magistrates and judges, or of persons engaged in agricultural, industrial, or commercial pursuits, it is called a secular collegium. If it is composed of clergymen, philosophers, or teachers, it is called an ecclesiastical collegium. These two kinds of collegium are parallel to the two forms of administration — secular and ecclesiastical — that are to be found in the province and commonwealth. The manner of rule in the collegium follows the general principles that Althusius has set forth for all social authority, except that in the collegium participation by individual colleagues, or members, can be direct rather than, as in public associations, indirect. There is a leader elected by the colleagues to administer the affairs of the collegium. 'He exercises coercive power over the colleagues individually, but not over the group itself.' For he is bound by the purposes for which the collegium exists, and by the laws defined through its corporate processes.

The public association is derivative from the private association in that families and collegia, not individual persons, are directly constitutive of the city, and indirectly or directly of the province and commonwealth. For without the private association 'others would be able neither to arise nor to endure'. Furthermore, the public association has jurisdiction over a prescribed territory, which the private association does not. The same general principles of communication and rule, however, apply equally to both private and public associations. Thus Althusius departs from a distinction common in medieval Roman law between public and private. According to this distinction, 'private' pertains largely to contractual relations among individuals, or to the internal procedures of groups — whether collegia or cities — that operate by concession but not direct domination of public authority. 'Public', on the other hand, refers to administrative agencies and divisions of the empire or, more realistically, of commonwealth. Althusius affirms, to the contrary, that the foundation of all associations, whether private or public, is symbiotic life. By appealing to symbiosis in this manner, he denies that private and public associations should have essentially different sources of legitimacy and modes of operation from each other. He also seeks by the same stroke to release politics from the hegemony of juridical conceptions of association. Nevertheless, the derivative and territorial characteristics of the public association still remain to distinguish it from the private.

Continuing the Ramist method of dichotomizing, Althusius divides the public association into particular and universal. The particular, in turn, is divided into the city and the province, and the universal is identified as the commonwealth (respublica), or realm (regnum). The particular association does not possess sovereignty, while the universal does. It should be noted, however, that the city of Venice, because it possesses sovereignty, has the status of a commonwealth. Furthermore, while a city is composed of families and collegia, the province is formed of various kinds of local community ranging from the rural hamlet to the metropolis, and the commonwealth is constituted of provinces and such cities as have the rights and responsibilities of provinces in the assemblies of the realm.

The city, unlike the private association, does not provide the opportunity for direct participation of individuals as such in the processes of rule. Here an organized community arises out of smaller associations and finds expression in a senate. At the same time, there is a ruler who exercises authority over individuals and particular associations, but not over the organized community itself. Althusius carefully spells out the relations that ought to prevail between ruler and senate in order that symbiotic needs on the municipal level can be provided for effectively. In brief, the ruler is the chief executive, and presides over the communication of things, services, and right. The senate, on the other hand, determines and defends the fundamental laws of the city, even to the extent if necessary of correcting or removing a ruler who misuses his authority to the detriment of this symbiotic association.

Althusius' discussion of the province contains one of the few basic inconsistencies in the elaboration of his political system. For the ruler of the province is responsible not to the organized community over which he presides, as is the case in all other associations, but to the supreme magistrate of the commonwealth. He is a prince, duke, count, or other noble who receives his office, whether through heredity or appointment, as a function of the commonwealth, and cannot be removed from this office except in rare instances, and then only by the commonwealth. Thus the symbiotic foundations of rule generally characteristic of Althusius' thought are partly compromised on the provincial level, possibly as a concession by him to the actual practices that prevailed in his time in his native Germany and in most neighbouring nations. But, if so, he did not concede very much. For it will be remembered that Althusius is not as interested in the precise arrangements for designating a ruler as he is in the effectiveness of the ruler's administration in conserving and enhancing the communication of things, services, and right. Althusius could accommodate himself without undue difficulty to the notion that a ruler might be designated and maintained in office from outside the provincial community, provided he rules the province well. This is to say that if a province actually meets the purposes for which it exists — if it fulfills its high calling — Althusius can wink at procedural irregularities, even though he may prefer that they do not prevail.

Furthermore, the provincial orders, which collectively compose the organized community of the province, constitute a restraining influence on the misuse of executive power. These orders are both ecclesiastical and secular, and provide for the observance of both tables of the Decalogue in political life. The reason for this is that both revelation and practical experience demonstrate that symbiotic association cannot long endure without public provision for the souls as well as the bodies of men. The ecclesiastical order, which is especially concerned with the cultivation of piety, is conceived by Althusius essentially according to contemporary Calvinist practice. The secular order, which addresses itself primarily to the maintenance of justice, is preferably composed of three estates, namely, the nobility, the burghers, and the agrarians. Sometimes, however, the last two are combined in one estate known as the commons. It is to be noted that these orders and estates are essentially the occupational collegia organized on a provincial level. Representatives of these estates, and in some realms of the ecclesiastical order as well, will meet in convocation where they perform much the same function in the province that the senate does in the city. Their consent is required by the ruler in all major matters confronting the province, such as decisions on war, peace, taxes, and new laws.

The commonwealth, as previously noted, differs from the city and province in that it alone possesses sovereignty. This is to say, only the commonwealth recognizes no human person or association as superior to itself. But where in the commonwealth does this sovereignty reside? Jean Bodin, to whom Althusius was highly indebted for so many of the characteristics of his political system, attributed it to the ruler. Althusius disagrees. His position, which follows consistently upon the principles he has already elaborated in smaller associations, is that sovereignty is the symbiotic life of the commonwealth taking form in the jus regni, or in the fundamental right or law of the realm. Since the commonwealth is composed not of individual persons but of cities and provinces, it is to them when joined together in communicating things, services, and right that sovereignty belongs. Therefore, it resides in the organized body of the commonwealth, which is to say in the symbiotic processes thereof. This organized body is also known to Althusius as the people.

The communication, or communion, that occurs in the commonwealth is, of course, both ecclesiastical and secular. Ecclesiastical communication has to do with the public expression of true religion, with the provision for public schools in which both religion and the liberal arts are taught and handed down to posterity, and with the defence of church and state from religious corruption. In this last matter, however, Althusius pleads for moderation, provided that the essential articles of faith are preserved. He observes that Christ suffered disciples who erred and were weak, and that 'no mode of thought has ever come forth as so perfect that the judgment of all learned men would subscribe to it'. Secular communication aims at rendering to each his due, which requires public provision for commerce, a monetary system, a common language, the performance of duties on behalf of the realm, the granting of special privileges and titles, the defence of the realm and its goods, and the holding of general councils to make decisions on major matters confronting the commonwealth.

The administrators of the commonwealth, who are the overseers of this communication, are of two kinds: the ephors and the supreme magistrate. The ephors do not ordinarily rule over the commonwealth itself, as does the supreme magistrate, but are held in reserve for emergency situations. They bear the fundamental right and power of the people in these situations. There are five duties expected of them, which they perform as a group rather than as individuals. They constitute, or establish, a supreme magistrate when a vacancy arises in the highest office of the realm. They restrain him within the limits of his office. They remove him if he becomes tyrannical. They defend him from detractors when he is performing his office properly. And they serve as a trustee for the realm in time of interregnum. Fundamental to this doctrine of the ephors is Althusius' judgment that 'great power cannot contain itself within boundaries without some coercion and constraint entrusted to others'.

The model that Althusius employs most frequently in his advocacy of ephors is the seven electors of Germany. He also manages to find somewhat comparable officials in other nations. They are usually distinguished rulers of provinces who possess at the same time this general function in the commonwealth. What happens when there are no properly designated ephors to act in the name of the people? Althusius would respond that symbiotic association so greatly requires persons to perform these duties when the need arises in the realm that each body politic should provide them by some process appropriate to its own traditions. We may assume that such persons will be leading citizens of the commonwealth, each with his roots deep in some corporate part thereof.

The constituting of the supreme magistrate involves first his election and then, if he agrees to the provisions of the election, his inauguration. The election occurs according to the established practice of the land, and may in some instances be little more than the confirmation of an heir determined by customary arrangement. At the inauguration there is a double oath in which the ruler-designate first promises to uphold the fundamental laws of the realm, as well as any special conditions established at the time of his election, and the people through its ephors then promises obedience to the magistrate so long as he rules according to the prescribed laws and conditions.

The actual administration of the commonwealth by the supreme magistrate should be guided, according to Althusius, by political prudence. This part of Althusian political doctrine involves knowledge both of law and of the changing and contingent circumstances to which law is to be applied. The discussion of law at this point is an extended treatment of the relation of the Decalogue to natural law, and of the role of these two together as common law in the formulation of proper law for particular societies. It is important to note that Althusius, a man who was much travelled and well received in orthodox Calvinist circles, maintained a rather warm appreciation for man's natural knowledge of his duty to both God and neighbour. The discussion that follows of such contingent factors in political life as the character and customs of rulers and peoples gives Althusius considerable methodological difficulty, largely because he is of the opinion, as I mentioned earlier, that this material does not lend itself to general precepts that can properly claim the name of science. Perhaps this is the reason why this discussion impresses the reader as the weakest and least convincing in the entire volume.

On the other hand some of the most striking features in the volume are found in the chapters on ecclesiastical and secular administration. Here Althusius amplifies the basic structure of his thought that has already taken shape. The analysis of ecclesiastical administration contains the arguments for a religious covenant between the commonwealth and God that Althusius adapts from Junius Brutus. It discusses the respective roles of the supreme magistrate and the clergy in the conduct of the church. And it suggests limits arising both from the nature of faith and from the requirements of symbiosis beyond which the effort to compel observance even of the true religion ought not to go. Of especial interest in the chapters on secular administration is Althusius' discussion of the importance of general councils, or parliaments, to the welfare of the realm, and of the procedures appropriate for calling the orders and estates into council and for conducting the business of the realm therein. The difference in function should be noted between these councils and the body of ephors, even though some overlapping of personnel could ordinarily be expected.

Tyranny, which is the opposite of just and upright administration, must be realistically assessed and its remedies identified if the systematic character of Althusius' political doctrine is to be maintained to the end. He proceeds to this task by acknowledging the distinction, widely employed since Bartolus, between a tyrant by practice (tyrannus exercitio) and a tyrant without title (tyrannus absque titulo). But he claims that only the former is a true tyrant because the latter, who never rightfully received the office of the supreme magistrate, is only a usurper. The tyrant without title, therefore, deserves none of the respect usually attributed to political superiors, and as a private person who is an enemy of the people may be resisted and even killed by private citizens. But a tyrant who becomes such after having gained legitimate title to the supreme office can only be resisted by public authorities to whom this responsibility has been entrusted, namely, by the ephors. The means, timing, and other relevant matters for effecting a remedy for such tyranny are thereupon discussed by Althusius. It is altogether characteristic of his basically conservative thought that he recommends caution against coming too quickly to the conclusion that a supreme magistrate who fails or errs in some part of his office is necessarily a tyrant, and insists that a public acknowledgment should be made by a properly constituted body before anyone takes action, except in self-defence, against him.

The final chapter presents the thesis that the best polity is one 'that combines qualities of kingship, aristocracy, and democracy'. Although the customary distinction between these three types of polity has some validity in that it identifies the most characteristic element in any given case, it is more important, he believes, to focus attention on the processes most likely to achieve both effective rule in the commonwealth and restraint upon the misuse of rule. Thus the controlling principle of these processes remains in the final chapter, as it was in the first, the enhancement of symbiotic association, without which men cannot live comfortably and well.

His Major Literary Sources

Mention has already been made of the very wide scope of Althusius' erudition. He drew upon an extraordinary number of books from many fields in the composition of his Politics, over 150 of which are referred to in this abridged translation. (See Appendix II.) It may be helpful at this point to identify briefly the major categories of writers the reader will encounter in making his way through the Politics, as well as to suggest the manner in which Althusius employs some of the writers most important to him.

The first category pertains to those writers who devote considerable attention to the observation of political processes and possibilities in the light of a few general considerations. Aristotle, of course, comes immediately to mind in this regard. Althusius adopts Aristotle's understanding of politics as a practical art or science that is addressed to the problem of ascertaining how the good for man can be achieved in community. The empirically oriented approach Althusius follows in the Politics makes this indebtedness clear, and it is also to be noted that he, like Aristotle, begins with an analysis of the family and moves onward to the commonwealth. The Calvinism of Althusius, however, causes him to differ somewhat from Aristotle on the nature of the good for man, as well as on the degree of man's corruption and the extent to which political institutions may consequently have to make provision for this factor. Another writer in this category is Jean Bodin, the sixteenth-century political, legal, and historical theorist. Of interest to Althusius was Bodin's procedure of surveying history, as well as contemporary experience, for insight into the nature and processes of political community. Even more important, however, was Bodin's doctrine of sovereignty that Althusius took over and systematically developed in the Politics, but with the difference already noted concerning the place where it properly resides in the commonwealth. The most frequently cited writer in the Politics is Peter Gregory, a professor of law at the Jesuit school at Pont-?-Mousson. Althusius was indebted to Gregory for a myriad of observations about the nature of social organization in just about every area except the ecclesiastical.

The second category includes those writers both Catholic and Calvinist who had an interest in constitutional government, and in the ideological and institutional foundations capable of supporting it. The three main Catholic authors in this group were all Spanish, namely, Fernando Vasquez (an ecclesiastical writer on natural law), Diego Covarruvias (a canonist and bishop whose style of legal writings caused him to be sometimes known as 'the Spanish Bartolus'), and Juan Mariana (a theologian and accomplished humanist who unintentionally got his Jesuit order into serious trouble by the inclusion of a chapter on tyrannicide in his major political text). Equally important to Althusius' constitutionalism were certain Calvinists. The chief ones were the author of the anonymous Defence of Liberty Against Tyrants (which was perhaps the best written and most widely read of the political tracts that came out of the French Wars of Religion), George Buchanan (a Scot and one of the great humanists of the sixteenth century), and Lambert Daneau (a French Calvinist pastor, theological professor, and political writer). Althusius may be considered the culminating theorist of this group, for he provided their ideas on limiting the power of a ruler with a politically systematic basis they had previously lacked. He did this, of course, by making symbiotic association and its needs the foundation of political doctrine, and by showing what kind of constitutional considerations can be understood to arise therefrom.

A third group upon whom Althusius draws is characterized by a common interest in political prudence, or in what at times finds expression under the topic of practical politics. I have reference here principally to Giovanni Botero (the Italian publicist who made famous the concept 'reason of state'), Justus Lipsius (a philologist and professor of history at Leyden and Louvain), Innocent Gentillet (whose Against Nicholas Machiavell was written to combat the Medici, or Italian, influence in the French royal court), and Scipio Ammirato (an Italian courtier). The teachings of these authors are frequently reproduced in the section on political prudence, which is not a very satisfactory treatment by Althusius of contingent factors in politics. Botero and Lipsius, however, are also employed by Althusius in other chapters of the volume in keeping with the approach of the first category of writers mentioned above. It is interesting to note that Althusius' occasional references to Niccolo Machiavelli are not to be found in the section on political prudence, as we might expect, but in discussions of the general principles of administration and of the defence of the commonwealth against tyrants. Furthermore, the work of Machiavelli most frequently mentioned by Althusius is not The Prince, but the Discourses.

The fourth category is that of legal writers. Among the civilians most in evidence are Bartolus (fourteenth century), Paul Castro (fifteenth century), and Andreas Gaii (sixteenth century). The Corpus juris civilis plays a major role in the Politics, not so much as a book of law from which one might deduce political arguments but, together with its better known commentaries, as a seedbed of ideas and concepts that can be built integrally into a political system or used analogically to indicate and illustrate essentially political principles. The Digest and the commentators thereupon are most frequently called forth by Althusius for these purposes, but numerous references may also be found to the Code, Institutes, and Novels. On the other hand, the Corpus juris canonici is not directly cited in the Politics, although there are important references to a number of canonists, especially to Nicholaus Tudeschi (fifteenth century) and Diego Covarruvias (sixteenth century). In addition, various customary systems of law are mentioned from time to time, often to provide illustrations for Althusius' teaching on the fundamental laws of the realm. In this connection Henry Rosenthal and Peter Heige of contemporary Germany, and Francis Hotman and Charles DuMoulin of contemporary France, are perhaps the most important. Finally, there is the Italian Nicolaus Losaeus, upon whose De jure universitatum Althusius draws heavily in the third edition of the Politics to describe the internal processes of government appropriate to both collegium and city.

The Calvinist theological writers constitute a fifth category. They serve a number of functions. The Biblical commentaries of Peter Martyr, Francis Junius, and John Piscator are called upon to give meaning to the concepts of piety and justice as interpretative of true symbiosis, and to describe the ancient Jewish polity that Althusius considers to have been the most wisely and perfectly constructed one since the beginning of time. The churchly writings of John Calvin, Jerome Zanchius, Benedict Aretius, and Zachary Ursinus are the major sources for Althusius' exposition of the ecclesiastical order in both the province and the commonwealth. Zanchius' extensive discussion of law in his De redemptione contributes more than anything else to Althusius' understanding of the relation of the Decalogue to natural law, and of both to the proper laws of various nations. Then there are special topics on which Althusius finds his theological colleagues to be helpful, such as Peter Martyr's discussion of war.

The sixth category is composed of historians and their writings, especially Carl Sigon on ancient Israel and Rome, Emmanuel Meteren on the Netherlands, Jean Sleiden on Germany, Francis Hotman (who was also a legal historian) on France, and Theodore Zwinger on universal history. Their significance to the Politics arises especially from the materials they provided for one of the most debatable aspects of Althusius' doctrine, namely, whenever and wherever societies live well they do so by essentially the same political principles, even though identification of these principles may vary and local adaptions of them may occur in practice.

Classical writers are a seventh category. Two of them he employed, I think, in a rather fundamental way in his system. I have already spoken of his use of Aristotle. The other is Cicero, from whom he learned much about the nature of social life and the vocabulary of politics. (Would that Althusius had also permitted his often dull and sometimes barbarous Latin style to be influenced by Cicero!) On the other hand he often uses classical writers, especially Augustine and Seneca, for quotations that may fit his own point but are taken out of context from the original work. And his frequent references to Augustine nowhere reveal that he actually had very little sympathy with Augustine's conception of the state. It is also worth noting that while he occasionally calls upon Plato to support his thesis that harmony is an imperative in social life, he also compares him with Thomas More and criticizes both for the unrealism of their Utopian views of society.

The eighth category of writers that plays a major role in the Politics is Althusius' select list of opponents in political theory. Included therein is the Catholic layman William Barclay, whose defence of a high monarchical view got him into such trouble with Rome that none less than Bellarmine was required to respond in written disputation to him, and furthermore led him to coin the misleading word 'monarchomach' to describe such persons as George Buchanan, Jean Boucher, and the anonymous author of the Defence of Liberty Against Tyrants. In addition, there was Jean Bodin himself, and Henning Arnisaeus, the latter a physician who wrote in support of Bodin's argument that sovereignty resides in the ruler. Both of these men were correctly seen by Althusius as setting forth positions that his own system would have to be able to answer. The same must also be said for one of the works of Albert Gentili, the Italian Protestant professor of civil law at Oxford. Some of the most lively parts of the Politics occur when Althusius enters the lists against these writers.

It may be of some use to the reader to add another category of a different kind, namely, one composed of writers that Althusius for one reason or another tended to overlook. For example, medieval publicists, as distinguished from legists both civil and canon, find little place in the expression of his political doctrine. There is an occasional mention of Thomas Aquinas' On Princely Government and Marsilius of Padua's Defender of the Peace, but none of John of Salisbury, Giles of Rome, John of Paris, Augustinus Triumphus, Dante Alighieri, or William of Occam. The one major exception is the German Lupold of Bebenberg, who recurs with some frequency throughout the volume. Another generally disregarded group is English writers, in this instance even extending to legal authors. It is true that Sir Thomas Smith's study of English government is mentioned occasionally, that Sir Thomas More appears on the pages of the Politics a couple of times only to be rebuffed for his utopianism, and that the Puritan theologians William Perkins and William Whitaker are included (but not in this abridgement). This is not, however, an adequate sampling of English thought within Althusius' range of interests. The lawyers Henry Bracton and Sir John Fortescue could have spoken quite relevantly and sympathetically to Althusius on a number of points. So could have the theologians John Wyclif and Richard Hooker, although the former for largely differing reasons from the latter. Finally, one must call attention to the fact that prominent Lutherans and Arminians are scarce in the Politics. Althusius' opposition to their religious views may have been the reason. But, if so, how does one explain his extensive and generally appreciative use of a number of Catholic writers? Perhaps the answer is better to be attributed to the absence of much interest in systematic political theory in those religious circles prior to 1614. There is some evidence that during this period serious political writing among continental Protestants was largely the work of orthodox and near orthodox Calvinists.

I should observe in closing this section that further material on the relation of Althusius to some of these writers is to be found in the introduction that Friedrich provided in his 1932 republication of the Politics in its original language.

Frederick S. Carney
Perkins School of Theology
Southern Methodist University

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Théories du contrat social

Un article de Wikipédia, l'encyclopédie libre.

Les théories du contrat social sont des théories de philosophie politique qui pensent l'origine de l'État dans une convention originaire entre les humains, par laquelle ceux-ci renoncent à une partie de leurs libertés, ou droits naturels, en échange de lois garantissant la perpétuation du corps social.

L'idée d'un contrat social pose déjà celle d'un état de nature, préexistant à toute société organisée. Cet état de nature ne correspond nullement à une réalité historique précédant l'instauration des lois, mais à l'état théorique de l'humanité lorsque soustraite à toute loi. Le contrat (ou pacte) social est alors pensé comme un pacte librement établi par la communauté des humains dans le but d'établir une société organisée et hiérarchisée.

Le concept même d'un pacte social apparaît précocement chez Platon dans le cadre d'une pensée plus large sur la fondation d'une cité idéale. Hugo Grotius est cependant le premier, dans l'histoire de la philosophie politique, à consacrer une part importante de sa réflexion à la définition du contrat social. Les grands théoriciens de ce concept demeurent toutefois à ce jour Thomas Hobbes et John Locke, avant Jean-Jacques Rousseau.

Sommaire [masquer] 1 Origines du concept 2 Les trois types de contrat social 2.1 Le contrat social selon Hobbes 2.2 Le contrat social selon Locke 2.3 Le contrat social chez Rousseau 3 Tableau récapitulatif des trois principales théories du contrat social 4 Autres articles 5 Liens externes

Origines du concept [modifier]

Si elles demeurent attachées aux figures philosophiques qui les ont défendues dans leur diversité, les diverses théories du contrat social trouvent leur origine dans un contexte politique et philosophique commun, qui appelait une réflexion profonde sur la genèse et la raison d'être du corps social et politique.

Pourquoi cette société ? Pourquoi la société ? Pourquoi vivre avec des hommes avec qui l'on n'a pas nécessairement voulu vivre, et se soumettre à des règles auxquelles on n'a pas choisi de se soumettre ? Par quels chemins l'espèce humaine est-elle arrivée à une structure si gigantesque qu'elle ne semble plus être qu'une seule créature, un monstre à plusieurs têtes comme le Léviathan ? Face à des questions auxquelles il est factuellement impossible de répondre dans le détail, les philosophes ont construit des cadres. Et par ces structures de pensée, ceux-là même ont véhiculé ce qu'ils pensaient devoir placer au centre de la société. Le contrat social est intéressant parce qu'il est un travail « scientifique », par la recherche des hypothèses de la création, en même temps que philosophique.

Les trois types de contrat social [modifier]

Il existe à ce jour deux types fondamentaux de contrat social, nommés selon leurs théoriciens respectifs : le contrat hobbesien (le contrat social d’après Thomas Hobbes) et le contrat lockéen (d’après John Locke). On y ajoute parfois un troisième, bien qu’il soit considéré comme une extension du contrat de type hobbesien : le contrat rousseauiste (d’après Jean-Jacques Rousseau). Il faut en effet distinguer différents types de contrat selon la finalité attribuée à l'État qu'il institue, laquelle diffère d'un auteur à l'autre : alors qu'il s'agit de préserver la vie de chacun chez Hobbes, Locke considère que le but de l'État est de sauvegarder la liberté individuelle et la propriété privée, tandis que le contrat social chez Rousseau est appelé à rendre le peuple souverain et ainsi à garantir l'intérêt général.

Le contrat social selon Hobbes [modifier]

La conception hobbesienne du contrat social, présentée dans le Léviathan, s’inscrit dans une logique sécuritaire. L’état de nature est défini comme une « guerre de tous contre tous » où « l'Homme est un loup pour l'Homme » et dans laquelle chacun, guidé par son instinct de conservation, cherche à préserver sa vie. Le contrat social intervient donc pour assurer la sécurité, c’est-à-dire au fond la vie de chacun, en aliénant les libertés individuelles des uns sur les autres. L’État est donc là pour rompre avec l’état de nature en restreignant les droits de chacun. Hobbes prévoit toutefois un droit de résistance aux abus de l’État, lorsque ce dernier met en péril la vie de ses sujets. La vie peut être invoquée comme principe supérieur à la valeur du contrat, car c’est pour sa sauvegarde que l’État a été instauré.

Le contrat social selon Locke [modifier]

Locke formule sa théorie du contrat social dans le Second Traité du gouvernement civil, d’après une logique libérale. L’état de nature est caractérisé selon lui par les droits naturels que sont la « liberté individuelle » et la « propriété privée », chacun voulant préserver sa liberté et ses biens. Le contrat social intervient pour garantir ces droits naturels, pour assurer leur sauvegarde. L’État est donc instauré pour garantir l’état de nature (caractérisé par la jouissance par tous de leurs droits naturels) en lui donnant une sanction légale. Locke prévoit un droit de résistance aux abus de l’État, lorsqu’il met en péril la liberté et la propriété qu’il doit sauvegarder. Comme la vie chez Hobbes, la liberté et la propriété peuvent être invoquées dans l’État lockéen car le contrat social vise justement à leur sauvegarde. On retrouve chez Locke l'abandon de la volonté de tous à un certains nombres d'instances chargées d'organiser la vie: l'exécutif (qui comprend également le pouvoir judiciaire), le législatif et le fédératif (qui correspondrait aujourd'hui aux affaires extérieures). Le contrat lockéen est établi pour diminuer les conflits et non pour établir la paix ou le bonheur comme dans le contrat social de Hobbes.

Le contrat social chez Rousseau [modifier]

La conception qu'a Rousseau de l'état de nature est complexe : l’homme est naturellement bon mais rapidement la société le corrompt, jusqu'à ce que chacun agisse bientôt égoïstement en vue de son intérêt privé. Le contrat social, tel qu'il est théorisé dans Du Contrat social, a pour but de rendre l’homme souverain, et de l’engager à abandonner son intérêt personnel pour suivre l’intérêt général. L’État est donc créé pour rompre avec l’état de nature, en chargeant la communauté des humains de son propre bien-être. Le contrat social rousseauiste est davantage proche du contrat hobbesien en ce qu’il vise lui aussi à rompre avec l’état de nature (le contrat lockéen visant, lui, à le garantir par un cadre légal). Mais à la différence de Hobbes comme de Locke, le contrat social rousseauiste ne charge pas un tiers de la sauvegarde de la vie ou de la liberté et de la propriété de chacun, mais charge les citoyens eux-mêmes de cette sauvegarde par le principe de la volonté générale. Le contrat rousseauiste est un pacte d’essence démocrate, dans lequel le contrat social n’institue pas un quelconque monarque, mais investit le peuple de sa propre souveraineté.

L'alleanza

Rodolfo d'Asburgo muore nel mese di luglio del 1291. L'avvenire dei Waldstätten è incerto; all'inizio di agosto concludono un'alleanza per salvaguardare le franchigie ottenute in precedenza.
Il Patto del 1291 è il rinnovo di un'alleanza più antica alla quale sono aggiunte nuove clausole. È redatto in latino; ai margini inferiori della pergamena sono appesi i sigilli delle tre comunità. Solo dal XIX secolo il documento, per lungo tempo ignorato dagli storici, è considerato l'atto di nascita della Confederazione.
Con questa alleanza le tre comunità si promettono assistenza reciproca e incondizionata contro qualsiasi avversario.
Esse rifiutano che la giustizia venga amministrata da funzionari stranieri; i liberi contadini delle vallate accetteranno soltanto le sentenze pronunciate da un giudice scelto tra loro, al quale il signore avrà delegato i poteri.
In caso di conflitto tra le comunità, esse dovranno ricorrere a un arbitro e ne rispetteranno le decisioni.
Il Patto prevede anche pene severe contro assassini, incendiari e ladri.


Il patto federale del 1291

«Nel nome del Signore, così sia. È opera onorevole ed utile confermare, nelle debite forme, i patti della sicurezza e dalla pace. Sia noto dunque a tutti, che gli uomini della valle di Uri, la comunità della valle di Svitto e quella degli uomini di Nidvaldo, considerando la malizia dei tempi ed allo scopo di meglio difendere e integralmente conservare sé ed i loro beni, hanno fatto leale promessa di prestarsi reciproco aiuto, consiglio e appoggio, a salvaguardia così delle persone come delle cose, dentro le loro valli e fuori, con tutti i mezzi in loro potere, con tutte le loro forze, contro tutti coloro e contro ciascuno di coloro che ad essi o ad uno d'essi facesse violenza, molestia od ingiuria con il proposito di nuocere alle persone od alle cose.
Ciascuna delle comunità promette di accorrere in aiuto dell'altra, ogni volta che sia necessario, e di respingere, a proprie spese, secondo le circostanze, le aggressioni ostili e di vendicare le ingiurie sofferte. A conferma che tali promesse saranno lealmente osservate, prestano giuramento, rinnovando con il presente accordo l'antico patto pure conchiuso sotto giuramento; con l'avvertenza tuttavia che ognuno di loro sarà tenuto, secondo la sua personale condizione, a prestare al proprio signore l'obbedienza ed i servizi dovutigli.
Abbiamo pure, per comune consenso e deliberazione unanime, promesso, statuito ed ordinato di non accogliere ne riconoscere in qualsiasi modo, nelle suddette valli, alcun giudice il quale abbia acquistato il proprio ufficio mediante denaro od altre prestazioni, ovvero non sia abitante delle nostre valli o membro delle nostre comunità.
Se sorgesse dissenso fra i confederati, i più prudenti di loro hanno l'obbligo d'intervenire a sedar la discordia, nel modo che loro sembrerà migliore; e se una parte respinge il giudizio proferito, gli altri confederati le si mettano contro. Resta inoltre convenuto fra di loro quanto segue: chi avrà ucciso alcuno con premeditazione e senza colpa imputabile alla vittima, sia, se preso, mandato a morte, come esige il suo nefando delitto, salvo che riesca a provare la sua innocenza; se fosse fuggito, gli si vieti il ritorno.
Chi ricetta o protegge un tal malfattore, deve essere bandito dalle valli, ne potrà ritornarvi finché non sia esplicitamente richiamato dai confederati. Se alcuno, di giorno o nel silenzio della notte, da dolosamente fuoco ai beni dei confederati, non sia più considerato come membro della comunità. E se alcuno, dentro le valli, favorisce o difende il suddetto malfattore, sia costretto a risarcire egli stesso il danneggiato. Inoltre, se un confederato spoglierà alcuno delle sue cose o gli recherà danno in qualsiasi modo, tutto quanto il colpevole possiede nelle valli dovrà essere sequestrato per dare giusta soddisfazione alla persona lesa. Inoltre nessuno potrà appropriarsi il pegno d'un altro, salvo che questo sia manifestamente suo debitore o fideiussore; ed anche in tal caso occorre che il giudice esplicitamente acconsenta.
Ognuno deve pure obbedire al suo giudice e, se necessario, indicare quale sia nella valle il giudice sotto la cui giurisdizione egli si trova. E se alcuno si rifiutasse al giudizio e da questa ribellione venisse danno ad alcuno dei confederati, tutti sono in obbligo di costringere il suddetto contumace a dar soddisfazione.
Se poi insorgesse guerra o discordia fra alcuni dei confederati, e una parte non volesse rimettersi al giudice o accettare soddisfazione, i confederati difenderanno l'altra parte. Tutte le decisioni qui sopra esposte sono state prese nell’interesse ed a vantaggio comune, e dureranno se il Signore lo consente, in perpetuo. In fede di che questo strumento è stato redatto dietro richiesta dei predetti e munito dei sigilli delle tre prefate comunità e valli. Fatto l'anno del Signore 1291, al principio del mese d'agosto.»

Tratto da Storia della Svizzera,
di Jean-Pierre Dorand, Daniel Stevan, Jean-Claude Vial, François Walter,
Editore Armando Dadò, Locarno

fonte http://www.admin.ch/org/polit/00056/index.html?lang=it

CONCORSO A PREMI "INDOVINATE L'AUTORE".
PRIMA PUNTATA.

Delle molte definizioni di "democrazia" che sono state avanzate, una sola resiste alla critica: è "democratica una convivenza nella quale coloro che aspirano a comandare sono divisi approssimativamente in almeno due schiere, formate rispettivamente da quanti detengono il potere e da quanti al contrario  lottano per otenerlo. Là dove invece la "classe politica" è stabilmente unitaria, ed è SOLIDALMENTE COMPARTECIPE DEL POTERE, non c'è più "democrazia", perché i cittadini perdono la possibilità di cambiare i reggitori, e quindi di "controllarli".


CONCORSO A PREMI "INDOVINATE L'AUTORE".
SECONDA PUNTATA.

I cittadini, che compongono il "popolo", per esercitare il loro "potere" (cioè la loro sovranità), devono quindi affidare il governo a una minoranza di "delegati", o comunque a persone che i più considerano (e accettano) come "rappresentativi" dell'intera moltitudine.

Il popolo esercita così il suo "potere": a) assumendo delle scelte di fondo, destinate a condizionare e dirigere l'azione di chi governa (come accade con l'istituto dei referendum e delle consultazioni popolari); b) scegliendo e legittimando (elezione) i governanti.

Un sistema politico (Costituzione) è tanto più "democratico" a) quanto più frequentemente interroga i cittadini a proposito delle decisioni importanti da prendere (e facendo quindi un uso sistematico delle consultazioni referendarie); b) quanto più spesso provvede a CAMBIARE I TITOLARI DEL POTERE.

CONCORSO A PREMI "INDOVINATE L'AUTORE".
TERZA PUNTATA.

2. Sorge a questo punto una questione cruciale: come devono comportarsi i cittadini quando coloro i quali governano rispettano formalmente la Costituzione e le leggi vigenti, ma le utilizzano DI FATTO per consolidare e prolungare la loro permanenza al potere?

In tutti gli ordinamenti "liberi" viene generalmente riconosciuto (anche se non lo si ritrova spesso nei testi costituzionali) il diritto dei cittadini a RESISTERE a una costrizione illegittima.

CONCORSO A PREMI "INDOVINATE L'AUTORE".
QUARTA PUNTATA.

E' infine evidente che il termine "disobbedienza" - specialmente se confrontato con altri come "ribellione" o "insurrezione" - denota un comportamento per così dire "pacifico", e comunque non-violento: quasi a richiamare l'idea di uno strumento con il quale si sollecita il cambiamento di una regola ingiusta, o di chi la impersona godendone i vantaggi.

Tale intonazione è anche presente nell'aggettivo "civile". Con questo attributo infatti si vogliono mettere in luce due condizioni. In primo luogo si sotolinea il carattere non aggressivo del comportamento, in secondo luogo si colloca quest'ultimo nella sfera delle prerogative del "cittadino": in altre parole si vuole chiarire che qui la disobbedienza è soltanto espressione del DIRITTO, posseduto da ogni individuo, DI PARTECIPARE ALLA STATUIZIONE DEGLI OBBLIGHI GIURIDICI CHE LO RIGUARDANO.



Brani tratti da: Gianfranco Miglio
Disobbedienza Civile. 1993.

La proposta di emendamenti allo statuto regionale Lombardo allegata sulla destra di questo post è stata elaborata da Enzo Trentin a seguito di una discussione con Paolo Bonacchi. La bozza tiene conto della fase avanzata di elaborazione di questo testo, che non può essere più di tanto avvicinato al testo ideale, ma vi introduce alcuni punti qualificanti, gli unici aspetti federalisti di tutto il testo.

Gli emendamenti proposti sono in blu. Le note per il lettore in rosso porpora.

Buona lettura

Scritto da Paolo Bonacchi

Sunday 03 February 2008

Carlo Cattaneo Se conversando con un ipotetico amico dovessi rispondere ad alcune sue domande su cos’è davvero il Federalismo, penso che dovrei trasformarmi in Mago Merlino o se preferite nella Fata Turchina per raggiungere con semplicità e chiarezza lo scopo di eliminare dalla sua mente da un lato tutte le incrostazioni basate su informazioni  sbagliate ad arte e sedimentatesi col tempo e dall'altro per illustrare un concetto rivoluzionario derivato dalla Natura, di per sé abbastanza semplice da capire. Così, dopo i segni magici di rito, toccando l'amico con la bacchetta magica, apparirebbe nella sua mente una parola luminosa e densa di significato: “Contratto”! Sì: il federalismo è innanzitutto una teoria dello stato le cui leggi sono fatte mediante “contratti” di natura politica fra cittadini. Ma non sono un mago e non ho la capacità di produrre miracoli, perciò il mio amico immaginario dovrà unicamente far conto su ciò che riuscirò a dirgli per aiutarlo a scoprire il vero significato e le origini del federalismo, tenendo presente che nulla è più semplice della verità e niente è più arduo da testimoniare. Amico (A): Dunque, Paolo, mi vuoi spiegare da dove diavolo viene il federalismo?Paolo (P): Faccio una breve premessa che ritengo importante. L'uomo è un animale sociale ed in quanto tale è “parte” della natura e non il suo “padrone” come  dimostra di voler essere. Se l'uomo e gli animali vivono insieme ai loro simili in comunità e gruppi vuol dire che collettivamente ottengono dalla vita associativa più di quello che danno. Questa osservazione vale per tutta la vita animale uomo compreso. La chiave del nostro dialogo alla ricerca del significato e delle radici del federalismo sta tutta in una parola: Contratto! Infatti, sia nelle società animali, sia in quelle dell'uomo i singoli individui, i gruppi e le più vaste comunità regolano I loro rapporti mediante “convenzioni” che, sia dal punto di vista giuridico, sia biologico, sono definite “contratti”. La caratteristica fondamentale dei contratti, patti ed accordi, visti sotto l'aspetto sociale e politico, è il mutuo vantaggio che gli associati devono ricevere. Nella società umana il perseguimento di tale scopo deve essere assicurato da una garanzia formale stabilita dalla maggioranza delle persone che si associano in stato per comunanza di interessi. Tale garanzia riguarda il diritto naturale, inalienabile, inviolabile ed illimitato delle persone associate di fare, abrogare o modificare A MAGGIORANZA le leggi che riguardano tutta la società. Ciò premesso cercherò di illustrare questi concetti andando alle radici della società che secondo la scienza del terzo millennio si trovano nelle leggi della natura; proprio come avevano sostenuto molti giusnaturalisti e sociologi del calibro di J.J. Rousseau, P.J. Proudhon ed altri. Per questi autori la fonte della Legge e del Diritto deve essere cercata nella natura. “O uomo, di qualunque paese tu sia, qualunque siano le tue opinioni, ascolta: ecco la tua storia, quale ho creduto di leggere non nei libri dei tuoi simili, che sono menzogneri, ma nella natura, che non mente mai. Ciò che verrà da essa sarà vero; non ci sarà di falso che quello che, senza volerlo, ci avrò messo di mio. (J.J. Rousseau, in Origine della disuguaglianza). Molti anni addietro sono stato attratto da un'osservazione del prof. Gianfranco Miglio, costituzionalista molto noto, scomparso nel 2001, che in un articolo pubblicato su L'Espresso, n. 49, del 9 dicembre 1979 riportava che “ ... studi recenti ... permettono ormai di scorgere le radici “naturali” delle fondamentali regolarità a cui obbedisce il comportamento politico dell'uomo ...“. Anche un grande studioso ebraico del federalismo, Daniel J. Elazar, in Idee e forme del federalismo (Edizioni di Comunità, Milano, 1995, p. 5), ha scritto: “Il modello organico (riferito all'evoluzione organica, n.d.a) è strettamente imparentato con il concetto di legge di natura nell'ordine politico”. Tutto ciò significa che le radici dell'ordine sociale umano si trovano nelle leggi della “natura” e non nelle leggende, nei miti, nelle finzioni e nelle distorte interpretazioni della storia, perché, come sostiene Carl Schmitt (vedi: Le categorie del politico, il Mulino, Bologna, 1972, p. 61), “Tutti i concetti più pregnanti della moderna dottrina dello Stato sono concetti teologici secolarizzati”. Tali concetti si sono formati, per la grandissima parte, nel corso dei secoli in cui la scienza non aveva ancora svelato gli eleganti meccanismi biologici e fisici mediante i quali agisce la natura. La cultura umanistica, sviluppata nel corso dei secoli su concetti astratti e non verificabili sperimentalmente, doveva inevitabilmente entrare in conflitto con le conoscenze scientifiche prodotte nel recente passato. Il conflitto fra umanesimo e scienza ha prodotto quello che è stato definito come “il divorzio fra le due culture” (vedi: Charles P. Snow, Le due culture, Marsilio, 2005). Questa separazione ha messo in evidenza che i concetti della politica sui quali sono fondate le dottrine dello “stato moderno”, sono  scarsamente sensibili alle scoperte della scienza, mentre sono state fortemente influenzate dai miti, dalle leggende, dalle finzioni e dalle distorte interpretazioni della storia umana. Da qui la contrapposizione dei vecchi concetti che hanno originato lo “stato moderno” rispetto a quelli attuali dello “stato federale”. Per confermare queste osservazioni riporto quanto sostenuto da un  grande sociobiologo, E. O. Wilson in Sulla natura umana (Zanichelli, Bologna, 1980, p. 110): “La perfezione del contratto sociale ha spezzato gli antichi vincoli, tipici dei vertebrati, imposti dalla rigida selezione di parentela, mediante la convenzione del contraccambio, unitamente al linguaggio flessibile infinitamente produttivo, e un’attitudine alla classificazione verbale, gli esseri umani stipulano accordi duraturi, sui quali possono essere costruite le culture e le civiltà”. Ancora dello stesso autore in Sociobiologia: la nuova sintesi, (Zanichelli, Bologna, 1980, p. 280): “La microstruttura dell'organizzazione sociale umana si basa su perfezionate mutue valutazioni che conducono alla stipulazione di contratti”. In effetti la cultura della nostra specie ha prodotto, nei secoli, diversi tipi di “contratto” sociale e politico, ma ha, di fatto e salvo rarissime eccezioni, trascurato di approfondire le ragioni scientifiche dell’unico che poteva produrre leggi coerenti con quelle della natura: il contratto politico o di federazione. L'idea di “stato federale” si fonda infatti sulla consapevolezza che i rapporti umani, siano essi economici, politici o religiosi, possono essere regolati sulla base dell’utilità, della convenienza e del vantaggio per le persone a condizione che siano formati mediante “contratti” il cui contenuto è “LEGGE”, regola che tutti devono osservare. A. - Bel discorso, ma un po' difficile da capire. Adesso mi vuoi dire cosa significa la parola “contratto” in politica? P. - Non hai torto. Capisco che il tema che ho affrontato avrebbe bisogno di maggiore approfondimento. Tuttavia la sua diffusione attraverso le informazioni è importantis- sima ai fini del perseguimento di un ordine sociale e politico, stabile e giusto per la società umana. Ma veniamo alla tua domanda sul significato della parola “contratto”. In politica l'idea di “contratto” come dominante dell'ordine sociale, significa che le persone responsabili che partecipano con metodo democratico alle scelte di governo della comunità, devono poter disporre degli strumenti giuridici per garantire a tutti gli associati non solo la “titolarità” della sovranità dello “stato”, ma anche la possibilità di “esercitarla” direttamente per diritto naturale inalienabile, inviolabile ed illimitato. Questo si traduce nella possibilità, per ogni appartenente alla comunità, di poter partecipare direttamente al governo deliberando, abrogando, o modificando a maggioranza le leggi che riguardano tutti (democrazia diretta) oppure legittimando quelle fatte dai loro “rappresentanti” (democrazia rappresentativa). In questo senso il Federalismo, in quanto idea dello stato contrattuale, è anche un governo popolare in cui la legge, parafrasando Lincoln e come la democrazia presuppone, è cosa “del popolo, dal popolo, per il popolo”. A. -  E chi sarebbero secondo te “le persone responsabili”? P. - Le “persone responsabili” sono i cittadini attenti ed informati sulla politica che partecipano al governo della comunità con procedimento democratico mediante referendum deliberativi o legislativi il cui risultato non può essere modificato. Ovviamente il referendum non può essere soggetto a “limiti” (vedi ad esempio il Quorum  del 50% + 1 della partecipazione degli aventi diritto al voto per la validità del risultato, previsto dall'art. 75 della costituzione italiana, l'esclusione del popolo a deliberare su numerose materie, soprattutto quelle fiscali e delle autonomie territoriali, ecc.). I referendum legislativi o deliberativi, in sostanza, sono gli strumenti giuridici attraverso i quali la maggioranza delle persone responsabili che partecipano alle scelte di governo della comunità, decide  il RUOLO che lo stato deve avere nei confronti della vita di ognuno. A. - Ma non ti sembra esagerato attribuire alla gente, al popolo, un simile potere, considerato l'attuale basso grado di cultura della massa e di scarsa partecipazione alla gestione della cosa pubblica da parte della gente comune? P. - E' una questione di educazione civile e di responsabilità. E' ormai acquisito che senza strumenti decisionali, la gente non partecipa alle scelte di governo che riguardano la propria vita ed i propri interessi. Senza la mannaia della partecipazione popolare alle scelte di governo non si può fare uno stato federale, perché il Federalismo è un processo istituzionale di autogoverno basato sull'eguaglianza politica, sulla responsabilità personale, sulla libertà di scelta e di iniziativa e sul controllo diretto delle leggi, da parte dei cittadini aventi diritto al voto. A. - Non ho ancora capito bene. MA IN CHE COSA CONSISTE QUESTO CONTROLLO DIRETTO? P. Nel federalismo i cittadini, col voto, non delegano più “tutta” la loro sovranità ai loro rappresentanti, ma ne riservano per sé “la parte maggiore”, in modo da poterli delegittimare a maggioranza mediante referendum deliberativi quando fanno cose contrarie ai loro interessi o alle loro aspettative. Questo non eiste nella costituzione italiana ed è la ragione per la quale i lavoratori italiani sono costretti a pagare allo stato sotto forma di tasse, imposte e balzelli per oltre il 75% del loro salario: perché non dispongono degli strumenti giuridici contrattuali che il federalismo pone come sua condizione decisiva. A. - Ma veramente, già oggi col voto il popolo può cambiare i propri rappresentanti. P. - E' vero, ma in uno stato moderno basato sull'accentramento del potere nel parlamento e nei consigli, nei quattro o cinque anni di mandato i rappresentanti hanno potere assoluto sulla vita e sugli interessi della gente e con le loro scelte (che si traducono in tasse, imposte, obblighi, divieti e doveri, ma anche in privilegi, corruzione e sprechi), possono violare impunemente gli interessi e le aspettative della maggioranza dei cittadini senza che nessuno sia chiamato a risponderne. In questo modo la democrazia, limitata al solo giorno delle elezioni è una farsa, perché una volta eletti, i rappresentanti diventano i veri "padroni" dello Stato, mentre le persone comuni sono semplicemente poste al loro servizio nella più completa impotenza. Questa è la vera ragione per la quale, nel secolo scorso, la democrazia è fallita in più di 70 stati (vedi: Dahl, Sulla democrazia, Editori Laterza, 2000, p. 163 e 165), A. - Alcuni sostengono che le riforme costituzionali presentate dalla sinistra nel 2001 e quelle presentate dal centro destra nel 2006, sarebbero il primo piccolo passo verso il federalismo. Cosa ne pensi in proposito? P. - Il Federalismo non si può introdurre a rate o in percentuali o a piccoli passi. Risponde al principio “Tutto o Niente”, dove il Tutto, risiede sia nella sua nascita dal basso, dalle persone che vivono nei comuni (Principio di sussidiarietà), sia nella “garanzia” costituzionale dell'equilibrio fra democrazia diretta e democrazia rappresentativa offerta dal Contratto politico o di Federazione (Principio di autogoverno); mentre il Niente dipende sia dal mantenimento dell'accentramento statalista dell'ordine sociale e politico “nazionale”, sia dal regionalismo basato sul centralismo democratico di origine marxista. Il contratto politico, in sostanza, mette d'accordo, integra, rende equilibrate, vitali e coerenti nelle istituzioni le due forme di democrazia (diretta e rappresentativa) e risponde perfettamente alle domande su come rendere legittimo l'esercizio del potere che discende dalla politica senza usare violenza, come controllare il potere dello stato in modo che nessuno ne possa abusare e come dare voce al popolo come la democrazia, in quanto idea di governo popolare, prevede. A.  -  Perché TV, politici e giornalisti, a proposito del federalismo, parlano di “patto” e mai di “contratto”? P. - Perché la parola “patto”, il Foedus degli antichi romani da cui deriva  “Federalismo”, è più elastica ed offre maggiori possibilità di diversa interpretazione   rispetto al “contratto”. Questo favorisce i soliti giochi di astuzie, finzioni e menzogne care al potere delle classi che dominano la società. Per gli antichi romani il Foedus era tenuto in considerazione molto diversa rispetto a quella dei politici di oggi, in quanto coinvolgeva la “dignità” e “l'onore” della persona che lo stipulava. Oggi il “patto” si dimostra più adatto del “contratto” a giustificare il potere dei clan che si sono impossessati dello stato e che lo gestiscono senza alcuna dignità o scrupolo morale. Un “patto” nella concezione politica dello “stato moderno” come l'Italia, è di solito riferito a molte cose insieme, come nel caso del “contratto con gli italiani” fatto da Berlusconi, oppure come i “programmi” presentati dai partiti in occasione della cerimonia delle elezioni. In realtà il patto così concepito è poco più che una messinscena per ottenere il consenso elettorale. Il “patto” o meglio il “contratto” del federalismo, diversamente, è sempre LIMITATO a singoli FATTI descritti, conosciuti, letti, discussi, approvati e sottoscritti (referendum) sui quali il popolo, a maggioranza, ha potere decisionale assoluto. A. - Molti, oggi, parlano di introdurre il “federalismo fiscale”. Qual è la tua opinione? P. Ti risponderò con le parole di Gianfranco Miglio che sosteneva che “nessun federalismo fiscale è possibile senza una vera riforma federale dello Stato”. E' inutile illudere la gente con promesse che creeranno solo confusione, accresceranno le tasse a causa dell'assenza di una struttura federale che tende sempre verso lo stato minimo in armonia con gli interessi, la libertà, l'iniziativa e le aspettative di tutti. A. -  Quali sono, a tuo parere i nemici del federalismo? P. - A mio parere il più grande nemico del federalismo è l'ignoranza della massa dovuta al sistema delle informazioni in mano alle lobbie di potere. Da un punto di vista istituzionale, diversamente, il nemico è lo “stato moderno” che si basa sull'accentramento, sulla sola democrazia rappresentativa, sull'indefinita ed incerta divisione dei compiti e delle funzioni ai vari livelli dello stato e sulla sovranità del parlamento e dei consigli posta sopra i cittadini. Tutto ciò produce disordine, arbitrio ed abuso nell'ordine sociale, una burocrazia smisurata e fannullona, limitazione della libertà e dell'iniziativa imprenditoriale, tasse esagerate in rapporto ai servizi resi,  inefficienza, sprechi, privilegi e finisce col ridurre i cittadini a  sudditi dei clan di potere e dei partiti. A. - Ancora una domanda: molti identificano il federalismo come “secessione” del Nord dal Sud. Qual è la tua opinione in proposito? P. - E' una cosa che neppure io ho mai capito e la considero un grave errore culturale di cui oggi paghiamo le conseguenze. Il Federalismo, in quanto teoria dello stato contrattuale, è un “principio di unione” spontanea e reversibile fra persone e comunità libere e non certo di “divisione”. Come si fa a fare un contratto fra persone e comunità se fra le parti non c'è la volontà di unirsi accordandosi giuridicamente per trarre mutuo vantaggio dalle scelte condivise? La secessione, in un'ottica federale, è un rimedio ESTREMO che serve solo ad evitare un conflitto armato, una rivolta violenta fra aree e comunità diverse per tradizioni e cultura, oppure soggette ad un diverso trattamento economico e fiscale da parte dello Stato moderno centralizzato e sovrano. In condizioni normali federalismo e secessione sono antitetici perché la secessione annulla le stesse fondamenta di mutuo vantaggio sulle quali riposa lo Stato federale. Tuttavia è facile osservare che oggi nel nostro paese non siamo in condizioni normali e per questa ragione il pericolo della secessione è reale, concreto e sempre più condiviso dai popoli che formano la “nazione” che sono “costretti” a stare insieme ed a subire governi illegittimi, quale sicuramente sono quelli prodotti dalla costituzione centralista mai sottoposta ad approvazione o rifiuto delle persone e dei popoli che compongono lo stato.   A. - Paolo, ho capito che il federalismo è cosa molto diversa da quello che pensavo in base a ciò che mi era stato detto da giornali e televisioni, anche se adesso ho un po' di  confusione in testa. Puoi citarmi qualcosa che mi chiarisca ancora le idee? P. - E' quasi impossibile. Ma se avrai voglia di approfondire quanto ho scritto sono sempre a tua disposizione. Ammessso che adesso tu abbia l'idea di cosa è un “contratto politico”, ci provo citandoti una frase del compianto professor Miglio: “Ecco la radice del neofederalismo: La sua vittoria è la vittoria del “contratto” sul “patto” politico, sullo “ius publicum aeuropaeum” dell’Europa statalista.” (intervista rilasciata al Limes , settembre 1993).  Spero, amico mio, che alla fine tu abbia capito che si tratta di guardare allo stato ed alla politica con una logica molto diversa da quella che ha prodotto e continua a produrre, aggravandoli, i nostri già gravissimi problemi politici, economici e sociali.

Circa la questione dei figli dei clandestini, io credo che una volta ancora la LN abbia scelto l'obiettivo più impopolare e politicamente sterile, anzi controproducente, tra quelli disponibili sul tavolo.

Milano è sotto attacco, il nord è sotto attacco. I prefetti e i ministri minacciano e compiono ritorsioni. L'aeroporto internazionale viene degradato a scalo locale, i magistrati vanificano le leggi e favoriscono la colonizzazione del nord, gli amministratori locali di regime ci riempiono di rumenta napoletana, l'economia è in ginocchio per via delle tasse che sostengono il clientelismo e il voto di scambio meridionale, i nostri managerialissimi amministratori locali ai più alti gradi (leghisti in primis) non fanno che alimentare il circolo vizioso di collusione, ingerenza e corruzione che coinvolge politica, clientele della pubblica amministrazione e criminalità organizzata. E i leghisti cosa fanno? sparano a zero sui bambini dell'asilo. Con la prevedibile conseguenza che tutti sparano a zero sulla LN (pace) e sui settentrionali avidi e insensibili.

La LN è il più straordinario e inattaccabile baluardo del regime italiano.

La tragedia è che tutti noi ex padanisti non troviamo di meglio che punzecchiarci tra di noi e rievocare le nostre lotte meschine tra schiavi di roma che iddio ci creò. Da Gorizia al Monviso, siamo un unico popolo di decerebrati votati all'estinzione. E non manca molto.

Maurizio Blondet

18/12/2007



Una tipica veduta di Milano, «la grande città»...«Se un nemico ci
invadesse, e la mattina trovassimo i suoi carri armati agli incroci, sa
cosa faremmo noi? Andremmo a lavorare come ogni giorno», mi dice
l’amico bresciano che mi accompagna ad una piccola conferenza.

Frase che contiene l’identità di questa provincia ex-ricca, e una
doppia esasperazione: per l’etica del lavoro tradita, e per la
passività lombarda di fronte alla «legalità».

Erano due virtù, e non lo sono più.

Rispondere alle difficoltà sgobbando più intensamente (come si è sempre
fatto in questa zona, passando dalle armi artigianali alle rubinetterie
e a chissà cos’altro, andando a cercarsi i clienti fino in Cina con la
valigetta del campionario) non funziona più: tartassati, impoveriscono
senza speranza.

Quanto all’adesione alla legge, che dire?



Le persone con cui parlo ora invidiano quei quartieri di Napoli dove,
quando la Polizia entra per arrestare un pregiudicato, la gente scende
dalle case e difende il camorrista in massa.

«Dovremmo fare anche noi così», mi dicono.

Non c’è male, per gente che ha votato Lega e Forza Italia, invidiare i «terroni» peggiori.

La virtù dell’essere ligi alla legalità, che facilitava la vita
produttiva al nord, ha condotto alla perdita della solidarietà di
vicinato, all’atomizzazione sociale.

Ed ora che la legalità è sopruso e spoliazione, questi lombardi si scoprono disarmati.

«Una sola cosa può ancora far scendere in piazza la gente: il calcio», dice l’amico, con disgusto.

Non sto esagerando.



Tutti mi parlano di una situazione economica che sta precipitando da un mese all’altro, con velocità impressionante.

Consumi che si riducono a zero, negozi vuoti sotto Natale, e tuttavia prezzi altissimi, rincari di tutto.

Nel commercio, mi dicono, sopravvive chi ha il negozio di proprietà.

Ma chi paga l’affitto - 30 mila euro l’anno, in una cittadina - non ce la fa e chiude.

Nei depositi bancari ci sono ancora soldi, le banche locali ne sono intasate: non ci sono possibilità d’investimento.

Per cui ciascuno teme, anzi ha la certezza, che quella riserva
personale per la recessione che avanza gli sarà in qualche modo rubata,
dalle banche ammanicate coi politici (anzi governate dai politici
attraverso le fondazioni), o dal fisco di Visco.

Un senso d’impotenza, forse per la prima volta.



Il governo Prodi - Visco-Padoa Schioppa è riuscito a strangolare questa
gallina delle uova d’oro, una delle province esportatrici e
micro-industriali, ora - dissanguate dalle tasse e dai rincari
convergenti - non sa più che fare.



Peggio: ha la certezza che, se andrà su il cosiddetto centro-destra,
non farà nulla di meglio. Berlusconi e la sua assenza di programma
suscitano dispetto.

Le sparate di Bossi, fra gli stessi leghisti che incontro esasperazione e sbuffi.

«Minaccia e non fa, non sa fare niente. Quando si decide a ritirarsi?».



Non ci si sente più difesi da nessuno.

Nessuno che ti rappresenti e ti organizzi.

Mutui variabili che inizialmente erano pari a 700 euro mensili, sono
saliti a 1.035: anche se si lavora in due non si va avanti.

La banca ha già proposto la soluzione: prolungare il prestito a 50
anni, ora la famiglia sta in una casa che non è sua ma della banca,
pagando di fatto un affitto agli usurai legali.



Sono tornato a Milano dopo due mesi d’assenza, e il suo degrado (che mi
sarebbe passato inosservato se ci avessi vissuto ogni giorno) salta
immediatamente agli occhi.

Anche qui rapidissimo.

Cerco una profumeria vicino alla Stazione Centrale, un grosso negozio che faceva sconti, per il regalo natalizio.

La profumeria non c’è più, ora c’è un emporio cinese che vende quel po’
di tutto alla cinese, carabattole ed alimentari in scatola, bambole e
piccola elettronica da quattro soldi.

Provo a fare due passi lungo via Ponte Seveso, via popolare e vivace due mesi orsono.

In cinquecento metri, conto quattro negozi etnici che vendono tutti le
stesse cose, un paio di macellerie islamiche, tre botteghe dove si
vendono telefonini usati ed aggiustati (gestione etnica), tre o quattro
negozietti di quelli dove vanno gli immigrati per telefonare in Etiopia
o in Pakistan, nove o dieci parrucchieri per signora (a due passi l’uno
dall’altro: la liberalizzazione di Bersani) tutti con le vetrine buie o
poco illuminate.

E una quantità di negozi sprangati, con la scritta «Affittasi» sulla saracinesca abbassata.

Chiuso anche un enorme spazio dove c’era un ristorante: «Affittansi 9.500 metri quadri».



In più, ho una strana sensazione: che nessuno degli esercizi aperti si
sforzi in qualche modo di vendere, di attrarre il cliente offrendo un
qualche servizio o merce utile.

Come dicessero: se volete, vi diamo questo, altrimenti chi se ne frega.

A chi venderanno, i quattro negozioni etnici ravvicinati, che espongono
gli stessi sacchi di couscous e latte di cocco in scatola, o
portachiavi con i led lampeggianti?

Ad altri cinesi, pachistani, cingalesi?

Ma non vedo la clientela.

Forse ai cinesi non interessa vendere nulla, i loro cespiti sono altri.

Prego notare.

Ponte Seveso, nonostante il suo squallore, è di fatto quasi centrale.

Là dove finisce, si erge il gigantesco decrepito Hotel Gallia, dove le stanze vanno a 500 euro per notte.

Il ricco straniero che vi alloggiasse (quelli della moda), se volesse
fare una passeggiata, non avrebbe attorno che il suk cino-pakistano,
qualche losco affittacamere, i muri grigi e sporchi di casoni
invecchiati male, e la desolata espansione della piazza della stazione,
pericolosa da attraversare, bivacco di zingaro borsaioli, mendicanti
cattivi e di ubriaconi di varie lingue.

Grazie sindaco Moratti.

Grazie ex sindaco Albertini.

Grazie Formigoni.



Vi avevamo votato: ah, finalmente degli imprenditori al potere,
finalmente l’efficienza, finalmente il «meno Stato più mercato»!

Gli faranno vedere, a Roma ladrona, come sanno rifare Milano per
adeguarla ai suoi nuovi destini, la Moda, il pret-à-porter, il
«terziario avanzato»!

Non c’è niente da inventare in fondo.

Detroit, città dell’auto, da montagna di ruggine e fabbriche dismesse è
diventata la città dei congressi, tutta un giardino, ritrovi, e
alberghi chic per ogni tasca.



Ma quale imprenditori siete, voi.

Esponenti di una borghesia compradora alle spalle di un capocomico da avanspettacolo-Mediaset,

il nuovo cinema Smeraldo.

Quale efficienza, facciamo il piacere.



Quale «meno Stato e più privato», la Lombardia è «meno Stato e più Regione», che è anche peggio.

Per adeguare Milano alla moda, come «biutification», Albertini ha fatto
installare in piazza Cadorna - solo chi lo vede può crederci - un
titanico ago da sartoria altro quattro metri, con un filo di 40
centimetri di diametro che scorre per la piazza, opera «trasgressiva»
di non so quale artista tedesco post-modern.

Tutto lì, per segnalare che Milano-vende-moda.

Piazza Cadorna è il luogo dove si prende l’unico treno per Malpensa.

Il famoso «hub» è collegato solo da un treno locale, non dalle ferrovie
nazionali: persino a scartamento diverso, perché le Ferrovie Nord
(locali) escogitarono a loro tempo questo trucchetto per non farsi
inglobare mai dalle FS.

E poi ci si lamenta che «Malpensa non decolla» e Air France non sa che
farsene: pista nella brughiera desolata, collegata a nulla, se hai due
valige la puoi raggiungere solo in taxi a 100-150 euro.



La Moratti, ora, ha instaurato il pedaggio punitivo per le auto: entro
la cerchia dei bastioni, o si paga il ticket o multe astronomiche.

Anti-inquinamento, così i ricconi di via dei Giardini staranno meglio, tutta ecologia.

Tutte le città «avanzate» hanno adottato il ticket…

Sì, ma hanno anche i parcheggi sul limitare della zona, qui niente, la
Moratti compradora, e i suoi consulenti a 200 mila euro l’anno, sono in
grado di pensare a come punire, ma non a come servire la città.

Come Visco, uguale.



Grazie però: ci avete tolto l’illusione che gli imprenditori-al-governo siano in qualche modo competenti.

Ci servirà, ora sta per proporsi Montezemolo, sappiamo come regolarci.

Non è finita.



Incontro una collega giornalista.

E’ agitata: suo figlio, 12 anni, è stato rapinato due ore fa.

«Sei ragazzini l’hanno circondato e gli hanno fatto consegnare l’Ipod,
l’orologio e i soldi che aveva in tasca. Uno aveva un coltello».

Dov’è successo?

«All’uscita del metrò di Montenapo».

Via Montenapoleone, signora-compradora: la pupilla dei suoi occhi, la mitica via del fashion,

del «buon gusto» miliardario.

Zona pedonale, ecologica, qualità della vita.

Bulletti tredicenni ci possono rapinare un dodicenne.

E filarsela impuniti.

E i passanti?

«O non si sono accorti o hanno fatto finta di non accorgersene», risponde la collega.

Eh sì, come li riconosco i milanesi!

Anche un carro armato nemico, piazzato tra Montenapo e via Manzoni, farebbero finta di non vederlo.

Ci pensi il governo, io devo andare a «laurà».

Ci pensi la polizia.

Ligi alle regole, sicuri che le leggi esistano ancora.



Ma la polizia non c’è, cari milanesi: è occupata a fare le scorte ai politici, ai giudici.

E’ paralizzata, terrorizzata dai magistrati sempre pronti a sparargli
contro una denuncia se trattano un ladro con qualche strattone:
maltrattamenti, violenza, abuso di potere.

Ma non vedete che i nostri agenti, poveretti, non riescono a risolvere
nemmeno omicidi con un unico colpevole evidente, come a Garlasco o a
Cogne, o estemporanei e facili come quello di Perugia?

Non vedete quel ridicolo via vai di «scientifica» in tuta bianca che
raccoglie DNA, che esamina computer, e torna a rifarlo e rifarlo,
ridicolmente?



Dovreste aver capito perché: perché è il magistrato che conduce le
indagini, con la sua laurea in legge, e pretende di fare lui il
poliziotto.

Il magistrato sorveglia soprattutto una cosa: che al maresciallo non
scappi uno schiaffone alla studentessa stronza che accumula menzogne,
al negretto losco che si rimangia le precedenti deposizioni.

Non più le domande a tu per tu in guardina di notte, con la faccia cattiva; non più contatti con confidenti pagati.

Tutto ciò è «illegale».

Le prove devono essere scientifiche: allora giù col luminol, con le
fluorescenze per rivelare «liquidi organici», coi tecnici che leggono
gli hard disk cancellati, con tutti i ritrovati costosissimi… è il
giudice poliziotto-dilettante che lo pretende, la «legalità» prima di
tutto.

Il giudice che libera il pregiudicato già mille volte arrestato.

Il poliziotto non può far nulla di testa sua, non di suo naso e istinto.

A Perugia, i poliziotti hanno auto con 300 mila chilometri sul gobbo, è un miracolo che viaggino ancora.

Mica gli danno le autobù fiammanti, quelle servono a Mastella, a Visco, a Prodi e signore.



No, milanesi, la polizia non c’è.

Per voi, non c’è più.

Dovreste imparare a difendervi.



C’è stato un tempo in cui lo sapevate: un furtarello di strada avrebbe
suscitato l’inseguimento di passanti volonterosi, pronti a dare una
mano.

Ora no.

Posso capire i vostri perché: si va solo nei guai.

Metti che il ladro sia armato anche solo di coltello, e se va bene ti rovina il Burberry’s

di Montenapo.

Metti che sia uno zingaro o un negro, e se lo afferri cadi nel
politicamente scorretto, e il giudice ti condanna per violenza privata,
maltrattamento di minore, odio razziale.

E omofobia.

Il figlio rapinato della amica giornalista è arrivato a casa a piedi.

«Non potevi telefonare?», gli ha chiesto la madre.

«Non ho osato chiedere il telefonino a qualcuno, ho avuto paura che prendesse per rapinatore me».

Ecco il piccolo milanese già ligio, rispettoso dell’anonimato, del
diritto altrui a non darti più una mano, del dovere di sentirsi atomo
fra estranei.

E’ la nuova legalità, e noi lombardi le obbediamo fino al suicidio.



Sto per prendere la decisione: vendere il mio bilocale a Niguarda,
addio Moratti, addio Formigoni, addio ai vostri balzelli, multe,
punizioni disciplinari.

Ma vedo che un tizio sta applicando un nuovo cartello davanti al portone di casa mia: «Vendesi bilocale…».

Ce ne sono già quattro, di cartelli.

Il tizio è un agente immobiliare tipo Tecnocasa o Pirelli Re, lo
riconosco dall’uniforme del mestiere, il completo nero, camicia bianca
e cravatta scura; è l’imitazione del bocconiano impegnato nel terziario
avanzato, aria fiduciosa, sorriso commerciale.

Gli chiedo: «Cosa succede? Se ne vanno via tutti?».

«No, è che le offerte si accumulano. Nessuno compra. Un appartamento
che qualche mese fa vendevano in due settimane, ora è ancora invenduto
dopo tre mesi».

I prezzi calano?

«No, è questo il problema», risponde l’imitazione bocconiana: «I
proprietari chiedono ancora i prezzi del boom, gli aspiranti compratori
offrono meno. Magari calassero, il mercato comincerebbe a muoversi di
nuovo».

Per un attimo sono tentato di dargli una mano, a lui e al famoso
mercato: venda anche il mio, e sul cartello ci scriva «Affarone! 10% in
meno».



Vero è che un giorno tutti i proprietari dovranno rassegnarsi a fare questo sconto, e tanto varrebbe farlo subito.

E’ ineluttabile.

Ma dovrebbe calare tutto del 10%: i prezzi alla COOP, il caffè a 0.90
(mille e ottocento lire!), gli emolumenti della dirigenza pubblica, le
multe stradali Moratti, le tasse con punizione per violata raccolta
diversificata…

Quelle no, non diminuiranno mai.

E allora restiamo duri a chiedere troppo per quel che non vale più come ieri.

E’ esattamente così che si sta paralizzando l’economia, a Milano, dove tutto è troppo caro per fare sconti.



E poi guardo il tizio in abito da pompe funebri ma con sorriso commerciale.

Lui chiede anche il 5% sulla transazione: su un appartamento da 200 mila, vuol dire che si screma 10 mila euro.

Non è poco.

Cosa fa per guadagnarselo?

«Ha una strategia per andare a caccia di compratori di questi tempi?».

«Strategia? E’ questa. Metto questo cartello…».

Lui appiccica il cartello «Vendesi» e poi aspetta nel suo ufficetto che
arrivi qualche voglioso di farsi fottere 10 mila euro, perché lui ha
fornito il «servizio», la «mediazione».

Altre idee non gli vengono.

Che creatività, nel terziario avanzato, che spirito imprenditoriale!

Come dice Napolitano, che «animal spirits!».



E’ già come i cinesi nel negozio di Ponte Seveso: ecco le nostre carabattole, se non le volete me ne infischio.

La «città del fare» non sa più cosa fare.

Maurizio Blondet





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