Book 1, Chapter 6
The Social Contract
I suppose men to have reached the point at which the obstacles in the way of their preservation in the state of nature show their power of resistance to be greater than the resources at the disposal of each individual for his maintenance in that state. That primitive condition can then subsist no longer; and the human race would perish unless it changed its manner of existence.
Suppose people have reached a point where surviving in the state of nature has become too difficult. The obstacles are greater than the resources each person has to survive in that state. That original way of life can then no longer continue. The human race would die out unless it changed its way of living.
But, as men cannot engender new forces, but only unite and direct existing ones, they have no other means of preserving themselves than the formation, by aggregation, of a sum of forces great enough to overcome the resistance. These they have to bring into play by means of a single motive power, and cause to act in concert.
But people cannot create new forces. They can only combine and direct existing ones. So their only means of survival is to pool their forces into a combined strength great enough to overcome resistance. They must set these forces in motion through a single driving power and make them act together.
This sum of forces can arise only where several persons come together: but, as the force and liberty of each man are the chief instruments of his self-preservation, how can he pledge them without harming his own interests, and neglecting the care he owes to himself? This difficulty, in its bearing on my present subject, may be stated in the following terms—
This combined strength can arise only when several people come together. But each man's strength and freedom are his main tools for preserving his own life. How, then, can he commit them without harming his own interests and neglecting his duty to care for himself? As it relates to my present subject, this difficulty may be stated as follows:
"The problem is to find a form of association which will defend and protect with the whole common force the person and goods of each associate, and in which each, while uniting himself with all, may still obey himself alone, and remain as free as before." This is the fundamental problem of which the Social Contract provides the solution.
"The problem is to find a form of association that uses its full collective strength to protect each member's person and property. In this association, each person, while joining with everyone else, may still obey only themselves and remain as free as before." This is the fundamental problem that the Social Contract solves.
The clauses of this contract are so determined by the nature of the act that the slightest modification would make them vain and ineffective; so that, although they have perhaps never been formally set forth, they are everywhere the same and everywhere tacitly admitted and recognised, until, on the violation of the social compact, each regains his original rights and resumes his natural liberty, while losing the conventional liberty in favour of which he renounced it.
The nature of this contract fixes its terms so firmly that even the slightest change would make them useless. So, although these terms may never have been formally stated, they are the same everywhere and accepted everywhere without being stated. This remains true until the social contract is broken. Then each person regains their original rights and returns to their natural freedom. At the same time, each loses the freedom provided by the contract, for which they gave up their natural freedom.
These clauses, properly understood, may be reduced to one—the total alienation of each associate, together with all his rights, to the whole community for, in the first place, as each gives himself absolutely, the conditions are the same for all; and, this being so, no one has any interest in making them burdensome to others.
Properly understood, these clauses may be reduced to one: each member gives themselves and all their rights entirely to the whole community. First, because everyone gives themselves completely, the conditions are the same for all. Since the conditions are the same for all, no one has any interest in making them burdensome for others.
Moreover, the alienation being without reserve, the union is as perfect as it can be, and no associate has anything more to demand: for, if the individuals retained certain rights, as there would be no common superior to decide between them and the public, each, being on one point his own judge, would ask to be so on all; the state of nature would thus continue, and the association would necessarily become inoperative or tyrannical.
Moreover, because everyone gives up their rights without reservation, the union is as complete as possible. No member has anything more to demand. For if individuals kept certain rights, there would be no higher authority to settle disputes between them and the public. Each person, judging their own case on one issue, would demand to do so on all issues. The state of nature would therefore continue, and the association would necessarily become ineffective or tyrannical.
Finally, each man, in giving himself to all, gives himself to nobody; and as there is no associate over whom he does not acquire the same right as he yields others over himself, he gains an equivalent for everything he loses, and an increase of force for the preservation of what he has.
Finally, by giving himself to everyone, each man gives himself to no one. He gains the same rights over every other member that he grants them over himself. So he gains the equivalent of everything he loses, along with greater strength to protect what he has.
If then we discard from the social compact what is not of its essence, we shall find that it reduces itself to the following terms—
If, then, we remove everything nonessential from the social contract, we find that the contract comes down to these terms:
"Each of us puts his person and all his power in common under the supreme direction of the general will, and, in our corporate capacity, we receive each member as an indivisible part of the whole."
"Each of us places ourselves and all our power in a common pool, under the general will’s supreme direction. And as a united body, we accept each member as an inseparable part of the whole."
At once, in place of the individual personality of each contracting party, this act of association creates a moral and collective body, composed of as many members as the assembly contains votes, and receiving from this act its unity, its common identity, its life and its will. This public person, so formed by the union of all other persons, formerly took the name of city, and now takes that of Republic or body politic; it is called by its members State when passive, Sovereign when active, and Power when compared with others like itself. Those who are associated in it take collectively the name of people, and severally are called citizens, as sharing in the sovereign power, and subjects, as being under the laws of the State. But these terms are often confused and taken one for another: it is enough to know how to distinguish them when they are being used with precision.
At once, this act of association replaces each participant’s individual identity with a moral and collective body. This body has as many members as there are votes in the assembly. The act gives the body its unity, its shared identity, its life, and its will. This public person, formed by uniting all the individual persons, was once called a city, and is now called a Republic or body politic. Its members call it the State when it is passive and the Sovereign when it is active. When compared with other such bodies, it is called a Power. Those who belong to this body are collectively called the people. As individuals, they are called citizens because they share in sovereign power, and subjects because they live under the State’s laws. But these terms are often confused and used interchangeably. It is enough to know how to distinguish them when they are used precisely.
The true meaning of this word has been almost entirely lost in modern times. Most people confuse a town with a city, and a townsman with a citizen. They do not know that houses make a town, but citizens make a city. The same mistake cost the Carthaginians dearly long ago. I have never read of any prince’s subjects being called citizens, not even the ancient Macedonians or today’s English. Yet the English are closer to liberty than anyone else. Only the French casually call themselves citizens everywhere, because, as their dictionaries show, they have no idea what it means. Otherwise, claiming the title would make them guilty of lèse-majesté, a crime against the sovereign. Among the French, the name describes a virtue, not a right. When Bodin spoke of our citizens and townsmen, he made a serious mistake by confusing the two groups. M. d'Alembert avoided this error in his article on Geneva. He clearly distinguished the four classes of men living in our town (or even five, counting foreigners without other status). Only two of these classes make up the Republic. To my knowledge, no other French writer has understood the true meaning of the word citizen.