Philosophers From France

"Every historical society seems, by successive stages, to have dragged its slow length into a form of institutions in which all life is absorbed by, and all movement emanates from. Power. It is a despotic form; in it there is neither wealth, nor authority, nor even liberty, outside Power, which is in consequence the goal of all ambition; nor can its holders find shelter from the rivalry which breeds anarchy, except by buttressing themselves with divine status."

"Where will it all end? In the destruction of all other command for the benefit of one alone - that of the state. In each man's absolute freedom from every family and social authority, a freedom the price of which is complete submission to the state. In the complete equality as between themselves of all citizens, paid for by their equal abasement before the power of their absolute master - the state. In the disappearance of every constraint which does not emanate from the state, and in the denial of every pre-eminence which is not approved by the state. In a word, it ends in the atomization of society, and in the rupture of every private tie linking man and man, whose only bond is now their common bondage to the state. The extremes of individualism and socialism meet: that was their predestined course."

"The natural requirements of Power made the fortunes of the common people. All those “little people” ...no sooner found their niche in the state than they set about advancing their own fortunes along with their employers. At whose expense? The aristocrats’. With a boldness born of obscurity they encroached progressively on the taxing rights of the barons and transferred to the royal treasury the incomes of the great. As their invasions grew, the financial machine grew larger and more complicated. There might be new posts for their relations, they discovered new duties, so that whole families take their ease in a bureacracy that grew continually in numbers and authority. Spawning a whole hierarchy of underlings – deputies, clerks, registrars. So it was that everywhere the service of the state became the road to distinction, advancement, and authority of the common people. ...What a sight it is, the rise of the clerks, this swarming of busy bees who gradually devour the feudal splendour and leave it with nothing but its pomp and titles! Does it not leap to the eye that the state has made the fortunes of all these common people, just as they have made the state’s?"

"Does thought preside over the successive transformations of human communities? Hegel asserted it did, and changes in the form of a state are for him only the shadows cast by the majestic march of ideas engendered by the world spirit which advances through an unceasing synthesis of opposites bred by itself. With Marx ideas are no longer queens but servants, the mere formal expressions of needs and feelings brought into being by situations: their effectiveness is not their own but has been lent them by the social impulsions which give them birth. Marx was wrong to deny the creative quality of the spirit, but Hegel misunderstood the way in which the mechanism of politics works. It is true that ideas are queens by birth: but they only gain favour when they enter the service of interests and instincts. Follow an idea through from its birth to its triumph, and it becomes clear that it came to power only at the price of an astounding degradation of itself. A reasoned structure of arguments ...does not as such make its way into the social consciousness: rather it has undergone pressures which have destroyed its internal architecture, and left in its place only a confused babel of concepts, the most magical of which wins credit for the others. In the result, it is not reason which has found a guide but passion which has found a flag. The history of the democratic doctrine furnishes a striking example... Born for the purpose of standing as a bulwark against Power, it ends by providing Power with the finest soil it has ever had in which to spread itself over the social field."

"[T]here are no institutions on earth which enable each separate person to have a hand in the exercise of Power, for Power is command, and everyone cannot command. Sovereignty of the people is, therefore, nothing but a fiction, and one which must in the long run prove destructive of individual liberties."

"If there is in Power's make-up an egoistical urge combined with the will to serve society, it is a natural supposition that, the weaker the former, the stronger will be the latter: perfection of government would consist in the complete elimination of the egoistical principle. The chimera of elimination has been unceasingly pursued by minds whose limited range is only equalled by their good intentions. They do not realize that the nature of man and the nature of society combine to make any such project chimerical. For without the egoistical principle Power would lack the inner strength which alone enables it to carry out its functions."

"Command is a mountain top. The air breathed there is different, and the perspectives seen there are different, from those of the valley of obedience. The passion for order and the genius of construction, which are part of man’s natural endowment, get full play there. The man who has grown great sees from the top of his tower what he can make, if he so wills, of the swarming masses below him."

"As every advance of Power is useful for war, so war is useful for the advance of power; war is like a sheep-dog harrying the laggard Powers to catch up their smarter fellows in the totalitarian race."

"As we shall see, theories like those of Divine Right and Popular Sovereignty, which pass for opposites, stem in reality from the same trunk, the idea of sovereignty—the idea, that is, that somewhere there is a right to which all other rights must yield. It is not hard to discover behind this juridical concept a metaphysical one. A supreme Will, it runs, rules and disposes human societies, a Will which, being naturally good, it would be wrong to resist: this Will is either the Divine Will” or the “general will.” Power in being must be the emanation of this supreme sovereign, be it God or society; it must be the incarnation of this will. And its legitimacy is proportionate to its satisfaction of these conditions. Whether as delegate or mandatory, it can then exercise the right to rule. It is at this point that the two theories, in addition to their divergent conceptions as to the nature of the sovereign, become much differentiated. As to how, for instance, and to whom, and, above all, to what extent the right to rule is given. ...When can it be said, and by what signs can it be known, that Power, by betraying its trust, has lost its legitimacy, and, having now become no more than an observable fact, can no longer claim a right transcendent?"

"Ransack the history of revolutions, and it will be found that every fall of a regime has been presaged by a defiance which went unpunished. It is as true today as it was ten thousand years ago that a Power from which the magic virtue has gone out, falls."

"[A]ttempts at the limitation of armaments are, it is clear, a vain thing. Armaments are merely an expression of Power. They grow because Power grows. And yet those parties are loudest in demanding their limitation which, with unperceived inconsequence, are the most ardent supporters of Power’s expansion!"

"Democracy, then, in the centralizing, pattern-making, absolutist shape which we have given to it is, it is clear, the time of tyranny's incubation."

"In later times, Power's growth has continued at an accelerated pace, and its extension has brought a corresponding extension of war. And now we no longer understand the process. We no longer protest, we no longer react. The quiescence of ours is a new thing for which Power has to thank the smokescreen in which it has wrapped itself. Formally, it could be seen manifest in the person of the king, who did not disclaim being the matter he was, and in whom human passions were discernible. Now masked in anonymity, it claims to have no existence of its own, and to be but the impersonal and passionless instrument of the general will. But that is clearly a fiction."

"Power is linked with war, and a society wishing to limit war's ravages can find no other way than by limiting the scope of Power."

"Historians of the sentimental school have sometimes regretted that royalty became absolute, while at the same time rejoicing that it installed plebeians in office. They deceive themselves. Royalty exalted plebeians just because it aimed at becoming absolute; it became absolute because it had exalted plebeians. It is always utterly impossible to build an aggressive Power with aristocrats. Care for family interests, class solidarity, educational influences, all combine to dissuade them from handing over to the state the independence and fortunes of their fellows. The march of absolutism, which subdues the diversity of customs to the uniformity of laws, wars against local attachments on of a concentration of loyalties on the state, douses all other fires of life that one may remain alight, and substitutes for the personal ascendancy of the notables the mechanical control of an administration – such a system is, I say, the natural destroyer of the traditions on which is founded the pride of aristocracies and of the patronage which gives them their strength Resistance is, therefore, the business of aristocracies."

"Divine law must not be confused with custom. Custom is the crystallization of the whole of a society’s habits. A people among whom custom is altogether sovereign endures the despotism of the dead. Law, on the other hand, while prescribing and fixing such habits as are essential to the preservation of society, does not bar the door to favourable variations: it acts, so to speak, as a discriminating filter."

"Power changes its appearance but not its reality. Politics are about power; we cannot evade that truth or its consequences. We dream of a better world but it is in Utopia – that is, nowhere."

"The Führer will be impressed only if the British and the French nations cure themselves of their present laxity and slovenliness. What has been achieved by Germany has been achieved only because the ceaseless effort of every German, man, woman, and child, has built up that platform of strength from which Herr Hitler speaks. If we do not show ourselves the equals of the Germans in patriotism, we shall be neither worthy foes nor desirable friends. The only logical sequel to Munich is the 52-hour week in French factories and conscription in England. Then we can talk as great nations. But not till then."

"It is as futile and dangerous to aim at making of society one large family, as sentimental socialism seeks to do, as to aim at making of it one large team, as positivist socialism seeks to do."

"It is passing strange that our philosophers of the Revolutionary period should have formed their conception of a free society by reference to societies where everyone was not free – where, in fact, the vast majority were not free. It is no less strange that they never stopped to ask whether perhaps the characters which they so much admired were not made possible by the existence of a class which was not free. Rousseau, in whose philosophy were many things, was fully conscious of this difficulty: "Must we say that liberty is possible only on a basis of slavery? Perhaps we must.”"

"All command other than its own, that is what irks Power. All energy, wherever it may be found, that is what nourishes it. If the human atom which contains this energy is confined in a social molecule, then Power must break down that molecule. Its levelling tendency, therefore, is not in the least, as is commonly thought, an acquired characteristic which it assumes on taking democratic form. It is a leveller in its own capacity of state, and because it is state. The leveling process need find no place in Power's programme: it is embedded in its destiny. From the moment that it seeks to lay hands on the resources latent in the community, it finds itself impelled to put down the mighty by its natural tendency as that which causes a bear in search of honey to break the cells of the hive. How will the common people, the dependents and the laborers, welcome Power's secular work of destruction? With joy, inevitably. Its work is that of demolishing feudal castles; ambition motivates it, but the former victims rejoice in their liberation. Its work is that of breaking the shell of petty private tyrannies so as to draw out the hoarded energy within; greed motivates it but the exploited rejoice in the downfall of their exploiters. The final result of this stupendous work of aggression, does not disclose itself till late. Visible, no doubt, is the displacement of many private dominions by one general dominion, of many aristocracies by one "statocracy." But at first, the common people can but applaud: the more capable among them are, in a continuous stream, enrolled in Power's army - the administration - there to become the masters of their former social superiors. It is the most natural thing, therefore, that the common people should be Power’s ally, should do its work in the expansion of the state—a process which they facilitate by their passivity and stir up by their appeals."

"Barbarian invasions would be superfluous: We are our own Huns."

"We have just been seeing political power concerned to break a "clandom" which preceded it in time. Let us now see how it behaves in regard to a clandom which is its contemporary. It may be said in effect, paraphrasing Shakespeare: "Monarchy and feudal aristocracy are two lions born on the same day." There was something of an act of piracy about the foundation of the European states. The Franks who conquered Gaul, the Normans who conquered England and Sicily, and even the Crusaders who went to Palestine, all behaved like bands of adventurers, dividing the spoil. What was there to divide? First of all, the ready cash. Afterwards, there were the lands; no deserts, these, but furnished with men whose labor was to maintain the victor. To every man, then, his share in the prize. And there we have the man-at-arms turned baron. This is shown to the evolution of the world of the word baron, which in Germany meant "freeman" and in Gaul denoted the name of the class. There remains for seizure the apparatus of state, which there was one: naturally it is the share of the chief. But when a barbarian like Clovis found himself confronted with the administrative machine of the Late Empire, he did not understand it. All he saw in it was a system of suction pumps, bringing him a steady flow of riches on which he made merry with no thought for the public services for which these resources were intended. In the result, then, he divided up along among his foremost companions the treasure of the state, whether in the form of lands or fiscal revenues. In this way, civilized government was gradually brought to ruin, and Gaul of the ninth and 10th centuries, was reduced to the same condition as that in which William of Normandy was to find England of the 11th. ...By a slant common to the barbarian mind, or rather by an inclination which is natural to all men, but in barbarians encounters no opposing principle, these influential men soon confound their function with their property and exercise the former as though it were the latter. Each little local tyrant then becomes legislature, judge and administrator of a more or less extensive principality; and on the tribute paid by it he lives, along with his servants and his men-at-arms. Power thus expelled soon returns, however, under the spur of its requirements. The resources at his disposal are absurdly out of proportion to the area, which depends on it and to the population, which calls it the sovereign."

"Developing on another level, emotion is nonetheless, between automatism and objective action, a moment of psychic evolution. It forms the link between movement, which pre-exists, and consciousness, which it inaugurates. Incentives currently without outcome develop an erethism, the accumulated charge of which must explode, even if by transforming itself."

"Contrary to current opinion, the offensive is far from being the usual principle of anger. [...] or at the emotional exaltation there is a reversal of the combative fury of the subject against himself. But even if the orientation of the anger remains exclusively offensive, it only seems to set in motion the appropriate automatisms by the explosion of a diffuse agitation, which mixes with it, makes them stumble, and often ends up hitting them. of asynergy and adynamia, by resolving them into convulsion or syncope. They appear to be for her only a progressive, late, unstable conquest."

"[Jesus as Presented by Paul] A divine Being, in humility without parallel, assumes the human condition. He is crucified by supernatural agents, the Princes of this Age, who are, in Paul's language, Satan and his acolytes. ...The crucifixion, as presented by Paul, is that of a super natural being executed by beings who are also supernatural."

"From this we conclude, that, to live in harmony and peace...we must trace a line of distinction between those (assertions) that are capable of verification, and those that are not; (we must) separate by an inviolable barrier the world of fantastical beings from the world of realities...[10]"

"Peut-être les moines qu’on appelle « gyrovagues » exaltaient-ils particulièrement notre condition d’étranger éternel : marchant sans cesse de monastère en monastère, sans être fixé – ils n’ont pas tous disparu ; il en reste, paraît-il, quelques-uns encore sur le mont Athos : ils marchent leur vie durant sur les sentiers étroits des montagnes, tournant en rond, s’endormant à la chute du jour dans l’endroit où leurs pieds les a portés ; ils passent leur vie à marmonner des prières en marchant tout le jour, sans destination ni but, ici ou là, au hasard du croisement des sentiers, à tourner, retourner, ils marchent sans aller nulle part, illustrant par l’éternel cheminement leur état d’étrangers définitifs au monde d’ici-bas."

"Mais marcher, cela fait imprégnation. Marcher interminablement, faire passer par les pores de sa peau la hauteur des montagnes quand on s’y affronte très longtemps, respirer des heures durant la forme des collines en les dévalant longuement. Le corps devient pétri de la terre qu’il foule. Et progressivement, ainsi, il n’est plus dans le paysage : il est le paysage. Ce n’est pas forcément dissolution, comme si le marcheur s’évanouissait et en devenait une simple inflexion, une ligne supplémentaire. Parce qu’en lui soudain ce rapport s’illumine. C’est comme un instant qui éclate. Feu brusque : le temps s’enflamme. Là, le sentiment d’éternité, c’est tout à coup cette vibration des présences. L’éternité, ici, comme étincelle."

"Il y a le silence des marches dans la neige. Silence des pas étouffés sous un ciel blanc. Tout autour rien ne bouge. Les choses et le temps sont pris dans la glace. Immobilité sourde, tout est arrêté. Tout est uni, feutré. C’est un silence de mise en veille, de parenthèse cotonneuse, blanche, suspendue."

"Mais surtout, c’est la dissipation encore de notre langage. ... Dans le silence de la marche, quand on finit par perdre l’usage des mots ... dans ce silence, on écoute mieux alors, parce qu’on écoute enfin ce qui n’a aucune vocation à être retraduit, recodé, reformaté."

"Il y a le silence des marches dures des après-midi d’été, sur des parois de montagne, des sentiers de cailloux, à découvert sous un soleil sans concession. Silence éclatant, minéral, accablant. On entend juste le léger crissement des pierres. Silence implacable, définitif, comme une mort transparente. Le ciel est d’un bleu parfaitement détaché. Et on avance les yeux baissés, en se rassurant par un marmonnement sourd parfois. Le ciel sans nuages, le calcaire des roches sont d’une présence pleine : silence dont rien ne dépasse. Silence comble, immobilité vibrante, tendue comme un arc."

"Il y a le silence des petits matins. Il faut partir très tôt en automne quand l’étape est longue. Tout est violet dehors, la lumière rampe sous les feuilles jaunes et rouges. C’est un silence attentif. On marche doucement au milieu des grands arbres sombres, encore enveloppés d’une légère nuit bleue. On a presque peur de réveiller. Tout chuchote faiblement."

"La première éternité qu’on rencontre est celle des pierres, du mouvement des plaines, des lignes d’horizon : tout cela résiste. ... Je suis face à cette montagne, je marche au milieu des grands arbres et je pense : ils sont là. Ils sont là, ils ne m’ont pas attendu, là depuis toujours. Ils m’ont indéfiniment devancé, ils continueront bien après moi."

"Mais être seul alors, vraiment seul cette fois : un. Mais d’abord, on n’est jamais tout à fait seul. Comme écrivait Thoreau : « Je restai tout le matin en bonne compagnie, jusqu’à ce que quelqu’un vienne me rendre visite » (c’était la compagnie des arbres, du soleil, des cailloux). Au fond, c’est de rencontrer l’autre, souvent, qui nous ramène à la solitude. La conversation mène à parler de soi et de ses différences. Et doucement, l’autre nous renvoie à nous-mêmes dans notre histoire et notre identité, ce qui veut dire les incompréhensions et les mensonges. Comme si cela existait."

"On entrevoit bien dans les randonnées longues, cette liberté toute de renoncement. Quand on marche depuis longtemps, il arrive un moment où on ne sait plus trop combien d’heures se sont déjà écoulées, ni combien il en faudra encore pour parvenir au terme, on sent sur ses épaules le poids du strict nécessaire, on se dit que c’est bien assez – si vraiment il faut davantage pour insister dans l’existence – et on sent qu’on pourrait continuer ainsi des jours, des siècles. C’est à peine alors si l’on sait où on va et pourquoi, cela ne compte pas plus que mon passé ou l’heure qu’il est. Et on se sent libre, parce que, dès qu’il s’agit de se rappeler les signes anciens de notre engagement dans l’enfer – nom, âge, profession, carrière –, tout, absolument, apparaît dérisoire, minuscule, fantomatique."

"Dernière chose : on n’est pas seul enfin parce que, dès qu’on marche, on est aussitôt deux. Surtout après avoir marché longtemps. Je veux dire qu’il y a toujours, même seul, ce dialogue entre le corps et l’âme."

"Il y a le silence des forêts. Les bouquets d’arbres forment autour de nous des murs mouvants, incertains. On marche sur des chemins tracés, des bandes de terre étroites qui serpentent. On perd vite l’orientation. Le silence alors est frémissant, inquiet."

"D’abord, il y a la liberté suspensive offerte par la marche, ne serait-ce qu’une simple promenade : se délester du fardeau des soucis, oublier un temps ses affaires. On choisit de ne pas emporter son bureau avec soi : on sort, on flâne, on pense à autre chose. Avec la randonnée longue de plusieurs jours, s’accentue le mouvement de déprise : on échappe aux contraintes du travail, on se libère du carcan des habitudes."

"On ne fait rien en marchant, rien que marcher. Mais de n’avoir rien à faire que marcher permet de retrouver le pur sentiment d’être, de redécouvrir la simple joie d’exister, celle qui fait toute l’enfance. Ainsi la marche, en nous délestant, en nous arrachant à l’obsession du faire, nous permet d’à nouveau rencontrer cette éternité enfantine. Je veux dire que marcher, c’est un jeu d’enfant. S’émerveiller du jour qu’il fait, de l’éclat du soleil, de la grandeur des arbres, du bleu du ciel. Je n’ai besoin pour cela d’aucune expérience, d’aucune compétence."

"La marche, on n’a rien trouvé de mieux pour aller plus lentement. Pour marcher, il faut d’abord deux jambes. Le reste est vain. Aller plus vite ? Alors, ne marchez pas, faites autre chose : roulez, glissez, volez. Ne marchez pas. Et puis, marchant, il n’y a qu’une performance qui compte : l’intensité du ciel, l’éclat des paysages. Marcher n’est pas un sport. Mais une fois debout, l’homme ne tient pas en place."

"On n’est jamais personne pour les collines et les grandes frondaisons. On n’est plus ni un rôle, ni un statut, pas même un personnage, mais un corps, un corps qui ressent la pointe des cailloux sur les chemins, la caresse des hautes herbes et la fraîcheur du vent. Quand on marche, le monde n’a plus ni présent, ni futur. Il n’y a plus que le cycle des matins et des soirs. Toujours à faire la même chose tout le jour : marcher."

"The virtues and vices of a people, at the time when any revolution happens in their government, are the measure of the liberty or slavery which they ought to expect. An heroic love for the public good, a profound reverence for the laws, a contempt of riches, and a noble haughtiness of the soul, are the only foundation of a free government; and on the contrary, indifference for the public good, a servile dread of the laws, the love of riches, and sordid grovelling sentiments are, as it were, so many chains to fetter a people in slavery."

"There is no control and no all-powerful creator, either – no more 'God' than man – but there is care, scruple, cautiousness, attention, contemplation, hesitation and revival. To understand each other, all we have is what comes from our hands, but that does not mean our hands have to be taken for the origin."

"Philosophy is not in the business of explaining anything. Actual occasions explain what happened, not philosophy. If there is one thing which philosophy should not do, it is to try to explain anything."

"It should be noted here that a research area which has grown rapidly since the 1980s is the aforementioned STS field, that is, the sociological study of technology and science. Here, western science and technology are studied as cultural products, and many of its practitioners adhere to the so-called symmetry principle proposed by the French sociologist Bruno Latour, which entails that the same terminology and the same methods of analysis should be used for failures as for successes; in other words, that what we are doing is looking at science as a social fact, not as truth or falsity. Similarly, most anthropologists would argue that our task consists of making sense of ‘the others’, not judging whether they are right or wrong."

"What has happened to those who, like Heidegger, have tried to find their ways in immediacy, in intuition, in nature, would be too sad to retell—and is well known anyway. What is certain is that those pathmarks off the beaten track led indeed nowhere."

"No one knows any longer whether the reintroduction of the bear in Pyrenees, kolkhozes, aerosols, the Green Revolution, the anti-smallpox vaccine, Star Wars, the Muslim religion, partridge hunting, the French Revolution, service industries, labour unions, cold fusion, Bolshevism, relativity, Slovak nationalism, commercial sailboats, and so on, are outmoded, up to date, futuristic, atemporal, nonexistent, or permanent."

"The only shibboleth the West has is science. It is the premise of modernity and it defines itself as a rationality capable of, indeed requiring separation from politics, religion and reality, society. Modernisation is to work towards this."

"James Mill and Jeremy Bentham lived for him: Canning and Peel were his companions: the Wesleyans were not abstractions, but human flesh and blood. Above all, he had a justice and a balance in his views, and a clarity in his expression, which made him a master of exposition. Perhaps he had not eloquence, though he could lecture as few men can: perhaps he had not the gift of style, though he could say exactly, and with a rigorous economy of words, just what he wished to say. Such things would have been incompatible with the severe simplicity which was his essence. He had no artifices: he laboured simply to understand, and to set down simply his understanding. His book on the formation of philosophic radicalism, and the first volume of his history, are standing witnesses, and they are likely to be enduring witnesses, that he succeeded in his endeavour. His interpretation of English thought and English life, through all the long years from the youth of Bentham to the end of the World War, is one of the greatest gifts which the genius of France could have made to England, and it is a gift which English scholars will not forget."