Philosophy of the Modern Era

Locke's Political Philosophy

Principles of Hereditary Power

In 1689 and 1690, immediately following the Glorious Revolution of 1688, Locke composed his two Treatises of Government, the second of which holds particular significance in the history of political thought.

The first of these treatises serves as a critique of the theory of hereditary power, responding directly to Robert Filmer's Patriarcha, or the Natural Power of Kings, published in 1680, though it was written during the reign of Charles I. Filmer, a staunch advocate of the divine right of kings, unfortunately survived until 1653 and likely suffered greatly from the execution of Charles I and the triumph of Cromwell. Nonetheless, Patriarcha was penned prior to these tragic events, albeit not before the civil war, and thus it reveals an awareness of destructive theories that were already in circulation. As Filmer points out, such theories were not new in 1640. Indeed, both Protestant and Catholic theologians, in their disputes with their respective monarchs, vigorously upheld the right of subjects to resist tyrannical rulers, providing Filmer with ample material for his polemic.

Charles I had ennobled Robert Filmer, while supporters of Parliament are said to have looted his home ten times. Filmer posited that Noah crossed the Mediterranean and distributed Asia, Africa, and Europe among Ham, Shem, and Japheth. He maintained that, according to the English constitution, the House of Lords should merely advise the king, while the House of Commons possessed even less power; he contended that only one king establishes laws, which operate solely at his discretion. According to Filmer, the king is answerable to no one and cannot be bound by the actions of his predecessors or even his own, as "it is not found in nature for a man to create laws for himself."

These views place Filmer firmly within the most extreme wing of proponents of the divine right of kings.

Patriarcha begins with a struggle against the "common opinion" that "humanity is naturally endowed with certain rights and is born free from any subjugation, freely choosing the form of government that pleases it, and that the power any individual has over others was initially granted at the discretion of the masses." "This principle," he asserts, "was first birthed in the universities." The truth, according to Filmer, is quite different: it consists in the belief that God originally bestowed royal authority upon Adam, and from him it descended to his heirs, ultimately reaching the various monarchs of the present day. Filmer assures us that kings "either are or should be the heirs of those first ancestors who were the natural parents of an entire people." Our first progenitor, it seems, did not fully grasp his privileges as an absolute monarch, for "the desire for freedom was the primary cause of Adam's fall." This yearning for freedom is a sentiment Filmer regards as ungodly.

The demands made by Charles I and his supporters on his behalf were greater than those acknowledged for kings in earlier times. Filmer points out that Parsons, an English Jesuit, and Buchanan, a Scottish Calvinist, who hardly agreed on any issue, nevertheless claimed that rulers could be overthrown by the people for misgovernment. Parsons, of course, had the Protestant Queen Elizabeth in mind, while Buchanan thought of the Catholic Queen Mary Stuart of Scotland. Buchanan's theory was sanctioned by success, while Parsons's was refuted by the execution of his fellow Jesuit, Campion.

Even before the Reformation, theologians tended to believe in the necessity of imposing limitations on royal authority. This was part of the struggle between church and state that raged throughout Europe for much of the Middle Ages. In this conflict, the state relied on armed force, while the church depended on cunning and sanctity. So long as the church possessed both virtues, it triumphed; when it was left only with cunning, it began to falter. Yet the words of prominent and holy figures against the power of kings have remained in memory. Though they aimed to promote the interests of the pope, these arguments could be employed to uphold the rights of the people to self-governance. "The treacherous scholastics," said Filmer, "in seeking to subjugate kings to the power of the pope, considered it safest to place the people above the king so that papal authority could take the place of royal power." He cites theologian Bellarmine, who asserts that secular power is granted by the people (i.e., not by God) and "remains with the people unless they relinquish it to the sovereign"; thus, according to Filmer, Bellarmine "makes God the immediate creator of a democratic establishment, which sounds to him as shocking as it would to a modern plutocrat being told that God is the direct creator of Bolshevism."

Filmer derives political authority not from any contract nor even from any assertion of the common good, but exclusively from the father's authority over his children. His view is that the source of royal power lies in the subordination of children to their parents, that the patriarchs in the Book of Genesis were monarchs, that kings are the heirs of Adam or should at least be regarded as such, that the king's natural right resembles that of a father, and that by nature, sons are never free from their father's authority, even when the son comes of age and the father has become senile.

This entire theory appears so fantastical to the modern mind that it is difficult to believe it was seriously asserted. We are not accustomed to deriving political rights from the legend of Adam and Eve. We take it for granted that parental authority ceases entirely when a son or daughter reaches the age of twenty-one, and that prior to this, it must be strictly limited by both the state and the rights of independent initiative that youth gradually acquires. We acknowledge that a mother possesses rights at least equal to those of a father. Moreover, apart from all these considerations, it would never occur to any modern person, except perhaps a Japanese, to suggest that political authority should in any way be likened to parental authority over children. It is true that in Japan, a theory very similar to Filmer's persists, and it is mandated that all professors and school teachers impart this doctrine. The Mikado can trace his lineage to the Sun Goddess, of whom he is the heir; other Japanese can also claim descent from her, but belong to junior branches of her family. Thus, the Mikado is divine, and any resistance to him is sacrilege. This theory was largely invented in 1868, but it is now asserted that in Japan, by tradition, it has been handed down from generation to generation since the creation of the world.

An attempt to instill a similar theory in Europe, akin in some respects to Filmer's "Patriarchy," was unsuccessful. Why? Acceptance of such a theory does not contradict human nature; for instance, it was adhered to by ancient Egyptians, Mexicans, and Peruvians prior to the Spanish conquest, alongside the Japanese. At a certain stage of human development, it is natural. England during the Stuart era experienced this stage, while modern Japan has not.

The defeat of the theory of divine right in England can be attributed to two primary reasons: one being the multitude of religions, and the other the struggle for power among the monarchy, the aristocracy, and the burgeoning bourgeoisie. Regarding religion, since the reign of Henry VIII, the king had been the head of the Anglican Church, which faced hostility from both Rome and the majority of Protestant sects. The Anglican Church boasted of being a compromise—its English Bible translation preface began with, "By the wisdom of the Anglican Church since the first compilation of its public liturgy, it has been to adhere to the golden mean." In general, this compromise served the interests of the majority. Queen Mary and King James II attempted to align England with Rome, while the victors of the civil war sought to align it with Geneva, but these efforts ultimately failed, and after 1688, the authority of the Anglican Church went unquestioned. Nonetheless, its opponents maintained their strength, particularly the dissenters, who were notably numerous among the wealthy merchants and bankers, whose power gradually increased.

The king's position concerning religion was somewhat peculiar, as he was the head not only of the Anglican Church but also of the Scottish Church. In England, he was required to believe in bishops and reject Calvinism, whereas in Scotland, he had to reject bishops and embrace Calvinism. The Stuarts held sincere religious convictions, making this ambiguous position intolerable for them and causing them even more trouble in Scotland than in England. However, after 1688, political expedience compelled the kings to reluctantly agree to adhere to both religions simultaneously. This hindered any particular religious zeal and created difficulties in regarding them as sacred figures. In any case, neither Catholics nor dissenters could agree to any religious demand on behalf of the monarchy.

Three parties—the king, the aristocrats, and the wealthy middle class—formed various combinations at different times. Under Edward IV and Louis XI, the king and the middle class united against the aristocracy; under Louis XIV, the king and the aristocracy combined against the middle class; while in England in 1688, the aristocracy and the middle class joined forces against the king. When one of these parties stood with the king, he was strong; when they united against him, he lost his power.

For these reasons, Locke, like many others, found it easy to refute Filmer's arguments.

As for justifications, Locke faced a straightforward task; he pointed out that if parental authority is what is meant, then the power of the mother should be equal to that of the father. He emphasized the injustice of the title passing to the eldest son, which is inevitable if hereditary power is to serve as the foundation of monarchy. He vigorously opposed the absurd assumption that existing monarchs are in any way heirs of Adam. Adam could have only one heir, but no one knows who he is. Would Filmer claim, he asks, that if one could establish the true heir, all existing monarchs would have to lay their crowns at his feet? If one accepts Filmer's justification for monarchy, then all kings, at most one exception, would be usurpers and have no right to demand obedience from their subjects. Moreover, he states, paternal authority is temporary and does not extend to life or property.

For such reasons, not to mention more significant ones, the principle of hereditary authority cannot, according to Locke, be accepted as the basis for legislative political power. Accordingly, in his Second Treatise on Government, he seeks a more solid foundation.

The principles of hereditary authority have nearly vanished from politics. During my lifetime, the emperors of Brazil, China, Russia, Germany, and Austria disappeared, replaced by dictators who had no intent to establish hereditary dynasties. The aristocracy has lost its privileges throughout Europe, except in England, where it has become something greater than a historical category. All these events occurred quite recently in most countries and are largely tied to the emergence of dictatorships, as traditional bases of power have eroded, while the intellectual customs necessary for the successful implementation of democracy have yet to mature. There is only one strong institution that has never possessed any elements of hereditary authority, namely the Catholic Church. We may expect that dictatorships, if they endure, will gradually evolve into a form of governance akin to that of the church. This has already transpired in the case of large corporations in America, which have wielded, or wielded until Pearl Harbor, power almost equivalent to that of the government.

Curiously, the denial of principles of hereditary authority in politics has had little impact on the economy of democratic states. (In totalitarian states, economic power was absorbed by political power.) We still consider it natural for a person to bequeath their property to their children; that is, we accept principles of inheritance regarding economic power while rejecting them concerning political authority. Political dynasties have disappeared, but economic ones have persisted. At present, I do not advocate either "for" or "against" these differing approaches to the two forms of power; I merely point out that they exist and that most people are unaware of this. When you consider how natural it seems to us that power over the lives of others, stemming from great wealth, should be hereditary, you will better understand how individuals like R. Filmer could hold similar views regarding the power of kings and how significant Locke's innovations were for thinkers of his ilk.

To comprehend how one could adhere to Filmer's theory and how Locke's opposing theory could appear revolutionary, we need only recall that the kingdom was then viewed similarly to how landownership is regarded today. A landowner possesses various important legal rights, the foremost of which is the right to choose those who will own the land. Property may be inherited, and we understand that a person who inherits an estate has rights to all the privileges that the law accords them as a result. Nevertheless, fundamentally, their position is akin to that of the monarchs whose claims R. Filmer defended. Currently, in California, there are many vast estates whose rights derive from actual or fictitious grants made by the King of Spain. Only he could make such grants: a) because Spain held views similar to those of Filmer, and b) because the Spaniards were able to conquer the Indians. Nonetheless, we consider that the heirs of those to whom he made grants have rightful claims. Perhaps in the future, this will seem as fantastical as Filmer's theory does today.