Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Essay
conditioned. But all politics must bend the knee to the principle of
right, and may, in that way, hope to reach, although slowly perhaps,
a level whence it may shine upon men for all time.
[152] Matthew Arnold defines politics somewhere as the art of
“making reason and the will of God prevail”—an art, one would
say, difficult enough. [Tr.]
APPENDIX II
CONCERNING THE HARMONY OF POLITICS WITH MORALS ACCORDING TO THE
TRANSCENDENTAL IDEA OF PUBLIC RIGHT
If I look at public right from the point of view of most professors
of law, and abstract from its _matter_ or its empirical elements,
varying according to the circumstances given in our experience of
individuals in a state or of states among themselves, then there
remains the _form_ of publicity. The possibility of this publicity,
every legal title implies. For without it there could be no justice,
which can only be thought as before the eyes of men; and, without
justice, there would be no right, for, from justice only, right can
come.
This characteristic of publicity must belong to every legal title.
Hence, as, in any particular case that occurs, there is no difficulty
in deciding whether this essential attribute is present or not,
(whether, that is, it is reconcilable with the principles of the
agent or not), it furnishes an easily applied criterion which is to
be found _a priori_ in the reason, so that in the particular case we
can at once recognise the falsity or illegality of a proposed claim
(_praetensio juris_), as it were by an experiment of pure reason.
Having thus, as it were, abstracted from all the empirical elements
contained in the concept of a political and international law, such
as, for instance, the evil tendency in human nature which makes
compulsion necessary, we may give the following proposition as the
_transcendental formula_ of public right:—“All actions relating to
the rights of other men are wrong, if the maxims from which they
follow are inconsistent with publicity.”
This principle must be regarded not merely as ethical, as belonging
to the doctrine of virtue, but also as juridical, referring to the
rights of men. For there is something wrong in a maxim of conduct
which I cannot divulge without at once defeating my purpose, a maxim
which must therefore be kept secret, if it is to succeed, and which
I could not publicly acknowledge without infallibly stirring up the
opposition of everyone. This necessary and universal resistance with
which everyone meets me, a resistance therefore evident _a priori_,
can be due to no other cause than the injustice with which such a
maxim threatens everyone. Further, this testing principle is merely
negative; that is, it serves only as a means by which we may know
when an action is unjust to others. Like axioms, it has a certainty
incapable of demonstration; it is besides easy of application as
appears from the following examples of public right.
1.—=Constitutional Law.= Let us take in the first place the public
law of the state (_jus civitatis_), particularly in its application
to matters within the state. Here a question arises which many think
difficult to answer, but which the transcendental principle of
publicity solves quite readily:—“Is revolution a legitimate means for
a people to adopt, for the purpose of throwing off the oppressive
yoke of a so-called tyrant (_non titulo, sed exercitio talis_)?”
The rights of a nation are violated in a government of this kind,
and no wrong is done to the tyrant in dethroning him. Of this there
is no doubt. None the less, it is in the highest degree wrong of
the subjects to prosecute their rights in this way; and they would
be just as little justified in complaining, if they happened to be
defeated in their attempt and had to endure the severest punishment
in consequence.
A great many reasons for and against both sides of this question
may be given, if we seek to settle it by a dogmatic deduction
of the principles of right. But the transcendental principle
of the publicity of public right can spare itself this diffuse
argumentation. For, according to that principle, the people would
ask themselves, before the civil contract was made, whether they
could venture to publish maxims, proposing insurrection when a
favourable opportunity should present itself. It is quite clear
that if, when a constitution is established, it were made a
condition that force may be exercised against the sovereign under
certain circumstances, the people would be obliged to claim a
lawful authority higher than his. But in that case, the so-called
sovereign would be no longer sovereign: or, if both powers, that of
the sovereign and that of the people, were made a condition of the
constitution of the state, then its establishment (which was the aim
of the people) would be impossible. The wrongfulness of revolution is
quite obvious from the fact that openly to acknowledge maxims which
justify this step would make attainment of the end at which they aim
impossible. We are obliged to keep them secret. But this secrecy
would not be necessary on the part of the head of the state. He may
say quite plainly that the ringleaders of every rebellion will be
punished by death, even although they may hold that it was he who
first transgressed the fundamental law. For, if a ruler is conscious
of possessing irresistible sovereign power (and this must be assumed
in every civil constitution, because a sovereign who has not power to
protect any individual member of the nation against his neighbour
has also not the right to exercise authority over him), then he need
have no fear that making known the maxims which guide him will cause
the defeat of his plans. And it is quite consistent with this view
to hold that, if the people are successful in their insurrection,
the sovereign must return to the rank of a subject, and refrain from
inciting rebellion with a view to regaining his lost sovereignty. At
the same time he need have no fear of being called to account for his
former administration.[153]
[153] “When a king has dethroned himself,” says Locke, (_On Civil
Government_, Ch. XIX. § 239) “and put himself in a state of war
with his people, what shall hinder them from prosecuting him who
is no king, as they would any other man, who has put himself into
a state of war with them?” ... “The legislative being only a
fiduciary power to act for certain ends, there remains still _in
the people a supreme power to remove or alter the legislative_.”
(_Op. cit._, Ch. XIII. § 149.) And again, (_op. cit._, Ch. XI. §
134.) we find the words, “... over whom [_i.e._ society] no body
can have a power to make laws, but by their own consent, and by
authority received from them.” Cf. also Ch. XIX. § 228 _seq._
Hobbes represents the opposite point of view. “How many kings,”
he wrote, (Preface to the _Philosophical Rudiments concerning
Government and Society_) “and those good men too, hath this one
error, that a tyrant king might lawfully be put to death, been
the slaughter of! How many throats hath this false position
cut, that a prince for some causes may by some certain men be
deposed! And what bloodshed hath not this erroneous doctrine
caused, that kings are not superiors to, but administrators for
the multitude!” This “erroneous doctrine” Kant received from
Locke through Rousseau. He advocated, or at least practised
as a citizen, a doctrine of passive obedience to the state. A
free press, he held, offered the only lawful outlet for protest
against tyranny. But, in theory, he was an enemy to absolute
monarchy. [Tr.]
2.—=International Law.= There can be no question of an international
law, except on the assumption of some kind of a law-governed
state of things, the external condition under which any right can
belong to man. For the very idea of international law, as public
right, implies the publication of a universal will determining the
rights and property of each individual nation; and this _status
juridicus_ must spring out of a contract of some sort which may not,
like the contract to which the state owes its origin, be founded
upon compulsory laws, but may be, at the most, the agreement of a
permanent free association such as the federation of the different
states, to which we have alluded above. For, without the control
of law to some extent, to serve as an active bond of union among
different merely natural or moral individuals,—that is to say, in
a state of nature,—there can only be private law. And here we find
a disagreement between morals, regarded as the science of right,
and politics. The criterion, obtained by observing the effect of
publicity on maxims, is just as easily applied, but only when we
understand that this agreement binds the contracting states solely
with the object that peace may be preserved among them, and between
them and other states; in no sense with a view to the acquisition of
new territory or power. The following instances of antinomy occur
between politics and morals, which are given here with the solution
in each case.
_a._ “When either of these states has promised something to another,
(as, for instance, assistance, or a relinquishment of certain
territory, or subsidies and such like), the question may arise
whether, in a case where the safety of the state thus bound depends
on its evading the fulfilment of this promise, it can do so by
maintaining a right to be regarded as a double person:—firstly,
as sovereign and accountable to no one in the state of which that
sovereign power is head; and, secondly, merely as the highest
official in the service of that state, who is obliged to answer to
the state for every action. And the result of this is that the state
is acquitted in its second capacity of any obligation to which it has
committed itself in the first.” But, if a nation or its sovereign
proclaimed these maxims, the natural consequence would be that every
other would flee from it, or unite with other states to oppose such
pretensions. And this is a proof that politics, with all its cunning,
defeats its own ends, if the test of making principles of action
public, which we have indicated, be applied. Hence the maxim we have
quoted must be wrong.
_b._ “If a state which has increased its power to a formidable extent
(_potentia tremenda_) excites anxiety in its neighbours, is it right
to assume that, since it has the means, it will also have the will
to oppress others; and does that give less powerful states a right
to unite and attack the greater nation without any definite cause of
offence?” A state which would here answer openly in the affirmative
would only bring the evil about more surely and speedily. For the
greater power would forestall those smaller nations, and their union
would be but a weak reed of defence against a state which knew how
to apply the maxim, _divide et impera_. This maxim of political
expediency then, when openly acknowledged, necessarily defeats the
end at which it aims, and is therefore wrong.
_c._ “If a smaller state by its geographical position breaks up
the territory of a greater, so as to prevent a unity necessary to
the preservation of that state, is the latter not justified in
subjugating its less powerful neighbour and uniting the territory in
question with its own?” We can easily see that the greater state dare
not publish such a maxim beforehand; for either all smaller states
would without loss of time unite against it, or other powers would
contend for this booty. Hence the impracticability of such a maxim
becomes evident under the light of publicity. And this is a sign
that it is wrong, and that in a very great degree; for, although the
victim of an act of injustice may be of small account, that does not