Despotism is All Around Us:
the warnings of Montesquieu
Vickie B Sullivan
It is commonplace for citizens of liberal, democratic
nations to believe that despotism is foreign to their own experiences. Their
political constitutions display in some form or other a separation of powers,
which is specifically intended to prevent the amassing of arbitrary and
irresponsible power in any one function of their government. Conversely,
despotism is an extreme form of rule that concentrates arbitrary power, which
can extend into every realm of life. With constitutional and legal barriers in
place, the citizens of liberal societies can believe that victimisation at the
hands of despots is an experience reserved for less fortunate peoples.
Nevertheless, laws forbid sexual harassment and assault, though recent
revelations about their pervasiveness remind us of the limited efficacy of mere
paper or legal barriers.
If legal barriers sometimes fail to protect us from
miniature despots, then political despotism is not as distant as many think.
Montesquieu, the 18th-century French philosopher who brought the term
‘despotism’ into our political vocabulary, would not be surprised at the
disjunction between the putative liberty of our society and the experience many
have as the victims of irresponsible power within it. In The Spirit of the Laws
(1748), he shows that despotism is an ever-present danger and a persistent
threat to human flourishing everywhere and always. Even those fortunate to live
outside the borders of a despotic government can still be victimised by
despotic practices. In response, Montesquieu teaches that the unmasking of
despotism must remain a central endeavour in social and political life.
To the extent that he is remembered at all today,
Montesquieu is credited with being the inspiration for the theory of the
separation of powers, those constitutional barriers to despotism that can, paradoxically,
render us complacent as to our liberty. The framers of the Constitution of the
United States, in fact, termed him the ‘oracle’ of the separation of powers
when drawing liberally from his political teachings. Nevertheless, reflection
on his writings reveals that despotism is a vastly more pervasive and
intransigent phenomenon than individuals in so-called enlightened and free
societies tend to believe. Throughout The Spirit of the Laws, he shows that
despotism lies at the very core of the European mindset. Salient aspects of its
religious and philosophical traditions encourage the concentration of power and
a harshness that can too readily eventuate in despotic violence. With this
constant countervailing pressure, constitutional arrangements, as critical as
they are, cannot alone contain this phenomenon.
Montesquieu’s overt depiction of despotism would seem to
undermine the claim that Europe harbours despotism. After all, he draws from
the history of Asia and the Middle East to depict despots of large empires,
those contemptible figures who, although enthralled by private pleasures,
absorb all the powers in the state. Such immense power allows for the
exploitation of the ruled in a way that inflicts violence, both physical and
psychological, on its victims. In so doing, it denies individuals opportunities
for human development and agency, and thus ultimately robs them of their human
dignity. It terrifies all who might oppose it as it is often murderously
oppressive. As a result of this depiction, Montesquieu seems to many of today’s
readers to be an Orientalist, yet another European intellectual who belittles
foreign societies in order to laud the achievements of the West in a process
that ultimately justifies colonialism. But this is a superficial reading of a
deep thinker and writer. It was common defensive practice for intellectuals of
his time to use exotic locations as a stalking horse for criticisms of their
own societies.
Much of Montesquieu’s critique of despotism, in fact,
amounts to a critique of Europe. Montesquieu sees Europe – seemingly mild and
Christian – as home to some of the most brutal despotic practices. Despite his
apparent focus on Eastern despotism, he also manages to underscore the despotic
practices of venerated European institutions: the Catholic Church and the
French monarchy. He unmasks the despotism of the Portuguese Inquisitors, who
burn alive an adolescent girl for practising the Judaism of her parents, and
even of his own homeland, which executes for treason those who merely reproach
the monarch’s minister. He thus highlights the cruelty of Europe at a time when
voicing such criticism was still decidedly dangerous.
Montesquieu takes his strongest stand against cruel
punishments, declaring that ‘the knowledge’ of the correct way to proceed in
‘criminal judgments’ is more important ‘than anything else in the world’.
Liberty, he maintains, is a feeling of security that the threat of arbitrary
punishment necessarily contravenes. His acolyte, Cesare Beccaria, proceeded to
lead the liberal reform of criminal law and punishment in Europe in the late
18th century. But that liberalisation had to proceed against the grain –
against venerated European ideas, which were, according to Montesquieu’s
analysis, despotic. Indeed, so important are ideas in Montesquieu’s view that
he termed some philosophers ‘legislators’. Not only did these philosophic
legislators aspire themselves to found utopias, but their musings can, in fact,
impact real practices.
In Montesquieu’s analysis, some of the despotic ideas of
Europe derive from the most exalted of sources, from the writings of Plato and
Aristotle and the teachings of the Church, for example. Although these sources
are understood to inculcate the virtues and thus to attempt to make human
beings better, he subtly reveals throughout his work the immoderation, even the
cruelty, of the ideas that can be found in old and venerated volumes slumbering
on dusty bookshelves. Montesquieu highlights Plato’s harmful doctrines that
slaves do not have a right to self-defence, that magistrates should be
absolute, and that punishments should be frequent and severe. Similarly,
Aristotle’s teachings abet despotic practices by relying too much on the virtue
of princes for necessary restraint, and by vilifying the practice of demanding
interest on loans, which is the very lifeblood of commerce among nations.
Aristotle’s teachings help to undermine commerce which, according to
Montesquieu, promotes the ‘gentle mores’ that in turn preserve life by
countering both belligerent martial virtues and aggressive suspiciousness of
foreigners. He shows also how the Church promulgates a far too expansive law,
deriving from the ancient Romans, that equates treason and heresy. The Church
and compliant civil authorities slew many so-called heretics as a result of its
promulgation.
As events unfolded after his death, Montesquieu’s assessment
of Europe’s continuing susceptibility to despotism proved to be remarkably
prescient. No one who merely glances at this history can deny the enduring need
for the lesson that Montesquieu endeavours to teach in The Spirit of the Laws –
that there is no final victory over despotism, and that the West too remains
susceptible. It is, in fact, an ever-present threat in the human condition.
Liberty, Montesquieu shows, demands the continual scrutiny of ruling practices
and ideas, no matter how sacred. Despotic ideas can lodge in our most cherished
ideas, and even in our own hearts.
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