Shortcomings in hobbes social contract-

Critique of Hobbes Social Contract:

• His pessimistic view of human nature and condition in state of nature. He couldn’t explain why
people having natural sense of reason couldn’t live in peace without State. Rousseau criticized him
by stating that Hobbes transported degraded nature of human of modern times into the human
nature before modern civilization.

• Hobbes also couldn’t offer convincing reason why then suddenly people in state of nature decided
to establish peace by entering into a contract? 88

• His idea of absolute sovereign- bordering to totalitarianism is questionable. Why the sovereign
should be like Leviathan? Why there shouldn’t be any checks & balances on his power? Why
sovereign was out of the contract? He couldn’t offer very convincing answers to these questions by
the critics.

• His Social Contract had excessive focus on Individuals, undermined the institutions of family,
kinship, community, society.

• His obsession with materialism and attempt to explain political phenomenon, including Social
Contract, by laws of natural sciences.

• Paradoxical: Many contradictions can be found in his theory of Social Contract: • Individualism vs
community in social contract: on one hand his theory denotes possessive individualism, on the other
hand he talks of a political community in contract. How such atomistic individuals came together to
form community, surrendering their will, rights, power? • Absolute rule vs right to revolution:
Hobbes, on one hand talks about sovereign having absolute power without any checks and balances,
but on the other hand he also talks about people revolting against the unjust sovereign if he tries to
take their life, and fails to protect their family, property, honour, etc. • Materialism Vs Idealism: His
theory is materialistic. Man is considered as bundle of matter in motion. This forms the base of his
theory of nature of man, nature of state, and Social Contract. But his Social Contract was an idea, an
imaginary idealistic event only; • Reason vs morality: He discarded role of religion and morality in
politics. To him, politics should be based on reason and rationality. But he also talks about moral
duty of the people to honour the covenant and obey the laws & order of the sovereign.

CRITICISMS OF HOBBES
For decades after his death, Hobbes was the principal target of criticism among
moral and political philosophers, and dozens of negative reactions were published
that criticized almost every part of his theory. We will look at three attacks that are
directed at central features of his moral theory.
 
Hyde’s Criticism: Hobbes Denies That Morality Is Immutable and Eternal
We saw that, for Hobbes, traditional moral values are nonexistent in the state of
nature, and morality is a creation of the social contract. But while boldly denying
morality in the natural condition, he fudges the issue a little when describing the
invented status of morality within the social contract. In fact, he goes so far as to
say that “the Laws of Nature are immutable and eternal.” Traditionally, when
philosophers such as Grotius claimed that morality is “eternal” and “immutable,”
they meant that moral values are universal and unchanging, and are not creations of
human convention. Hobbes’s choice of the words “immutable” and “eternal” was
probably politically motivated, representing an attempt to avoid condemnation by
conservative critics. If so, his ruse was not successful. Edward Hyde (1609–1674),
a British politician and acquaintance of Hobbes, charged that Hobbes’s laws of
nature are not at all “immutable” and “eternal” in the usual philosophical sense:
 
If nature has thus providently provided for the peace and tranquillity of her
children, by laws immutable and eternal that are written in their hearts, how
come they to fall into that condition of war, as to be every one against every
one, and to be without any other cardinal virtues, but of force and fraud? [A
Survey of Mr. Hobbes (1676)]
 
According to Hyde, even the content of Hobbes’s laws of nature reveal that they
are not immutable and eternal in the traditional sense:
 
But where are those maxims to be found—which Mr. Hobbes declares and
publishes to be the laws of nature—in any other author before him? That is
only properly called “the law of nature” [when] that is dictated to the whole
species [ibid]
 
Hyde has two complaints against Hobbes. First, he accuses Hobbes of actually
denying the immutable and eternal nature of morality, as seen in Hobbes’s
depiction of the state of nature. Second, he claims that Hobbes tries to intentionally
misdirect us by describing the laws of nature as immutable and eternal when
Hobbes clearly does not mean it. Hobbes must plead guilty to both of these
charges. However, from today’s perspective, neither of these crimes are as bad as
Hyde makes them out to be. As to Hyde’s first charge, philosophers today typically
do not describe moral principles as “immutable” and “eternal.” To do so requires
that we postulate some eternal realm in which moral principles permanently exist
—a realm completely outside of human society. This calls for more metaphysical
speculation than philosophers today are comfortable with.
             As to Hyde’s second complaint, even intentionally misdirecting us on key
terminology is defensible. Between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries,
philosophers, theologians, and scientists could be imprisoned, tortured, and even
executed for publishing controversial ideas. The most famous example of this is
the case of Italian astronomer Galileo (1564–1642), who, under threat of torture,
retracted his claim about a sun-centered solar system. Sometimes, controversial
authors could appease religious and political authorities simply by being
diplomatic in their choice of words. Hobbes was concerned about negative
reactions from the authorities, and it is reasonable to interpret his choice of the
terms “immutable” and “eternal” as an act of diplomacy.
             We can also see Hobbes’s choice of these words as an attempt to
reformulate the traditional moral vocabulary. Like astronomers and other scientists
of his time, Hobbes hoped to break from medieval traditions and set his area of
inquiry on a new and more scientifically rigorous course. The context of Hobbes’s
comments about the immutable and eternal nature of morality shows how he tried
to redirect discussions on the nature of morality:
 
The Laws of Nature are immutable and eternal. For injustice, ingratitude,
arrogance, pride, iniquity, acception of persons, and the rest, can never be
made lawful. For it can never be that war shall preserve life, and peace
destroy it. [Leviathan, 15]
 
Hobbes argues here that the laws of nature are “immutable and eternal” to the
extent that they are required for preserving life through making peace. Hobbes,
then, shifts the discussion of moral truths from a mysterious eternal realm to the
observable realm of human nature and our desire for survival. In the end, the
history of philosophy shows that the terms “immutable” and “eternal” did not take
to being redefined and simply were dropped. But Hobbes did the best he could
when working with the terminology of his day.
 
Clarke’s Criticism: Punishment Alone will not Motivate Us to Always Keep
Contracts
Suppose that I agree to participate in the social contract. Although I understand
that I’m supposed to keep the agreements that I’ve made, I occasionally see
potential opportunities to violate these agreements when it might benefit me. For
example, while my neighbor is not looking, I could sneak next door, steal his
lawnmower, and sell it to a pawnshop. If I’m careful, I will not get caught. So what
should stop me from violating the social contract if I can get away with it?
             British philosopher Samuel Clarke (1675–1729) draws attention to this
problem and argues that ultimately Hobbes’s theory offers no safeguard to ensure
that we will keep our agreements in such situations:
 
If the rules of right and wrong, just and unjust, have none of them any
obligatory force in the state of nature, antecedent to positive compact, then,
for the same reason, neither will they be of any force after the compact, so
as to afford men any certain and real security; (excepting only what may
arise from the compulsion of laws, and fear of punishment, which therefore,
it may well be supposed, is all that Mr. Hobbes really means at the bottom.)
[Discourse, 1]
 
Clarke argues here that, if we are not motivated to follow moral rules in the state of
nature, then we will not be any more motivated to follow moral rules once we enter
into the social contract. Clarke recognizes that fear of punishment may provide
some motivation to follow the rules, but he claims that this is not enough. For
Clarke, our main motivation to follow moral rules comes directly from an
awareness of eternal and immutable moral truths themselves—and Hobbes denies
this as a source of moral obligation. In short, according to Clarke, fear of
punishment is the only source of motivation that Hobbes provides, and that is not
sufficient to motivate us to always keep our agreements.
             Hobbes addresses this issue himself, agreeing that someone might reason
as follows: “There is no such thing as justice . . . [and that for someone] to make or
not make, keep or not keep, covenants was not against reason, when it conduced to
one’s benefit.” Take, for example, someone that we can call a sneaky contract
breaker. He knows the terms of the social contract, and verbally agrees to them,
but thinks he’s clever enough to break the rules without getting caught.  However,
Hobbes suggests that this line of reasoning is flawed:
 
He, therefore, that breaketh his covenant, and consequently declareth that he
thinks he may with reason do so, cannot be received into any society that
unite themselves for peace and defense but by the error of them that receive
him; nor when he is received, be retained in it without seeing the danger of
their error; which errors a man cannot reasonably reckon upon as the means
of his security. . . [Leviathan, 15]
 
In other words, according to Hobbes, it is not reasonable for the sneaky contract
breaker to base his own security entirely on his ability to go undetected. If he is
caught, then he will be expelled from society, and, it is just not reasonable for him
to take this risk. So, for Hobbes, fear of punishment is sufficient to restrain the
sneaky contract breaker.
             Hobbes is probably right that we will not take the risk if there is a good
chance that we’d be detected. But what if I plan the perfect crime, with no
reasonable chance of getting caught? That is, what if I am an extra-cautious
contract breaker? In this case, Hobbes needs another source of moral obligation
that goes beyond an immediate fear of punishment. Perhaps we can rescue Hobbes
from this dilemma by drawing on the virtue component of his theory. Suppose that
I carefully scheme to steal my neighbor’s lawn-mower, and I succeed without
getting caught. As a creature of habit, I am likely to plan similar crimes against
other neighbors, and each time I do I increase the risk of being detected. By
starting down the initial path of theft, then, I am taking an unreasonable risk since
the odds of my getting caught are increased with each new act of theft. To
eliminate this risk, the reasonable thing for me to do is develop the virtue of justice
so that I will habitually avoid stealing and never even start down that perilous path.
So, when I recognize my tendency to fall into dangerous habits, my fear of
punishment should motivate me to develop consistent virtues, which in turn will
keep me from breaking the rules. Hobbes’s actual comments on the role of virtues
are brief, and he does not offer this specific solution there. However, in view of
Hobbes’s position that “the science of virtue and vice is moral philosophy,” this
virtue-based solution fits neatly into his overall theory. In short, contrary to Clarke,
fear of punishment, along with this virtue of justice, may be enough to keep us
from breaking contracts, even though we can get away with it.
 
Hume’s Criticism: We Do not Even Tacitly Agree to a Social Contract
Hobbes did not believe that there was an actual point in history when people got
together and signed a social contract. However, if the social contract is not a
specific historical agreement, then serious questions are raised about what kind of
agreement it actually is and how it forms the basis of morality and governance.
Hobbes himself tries to address this problem, noting that we can agree to contracts
in either of two ways. First, we may agree through a concrete verbal expression,
such as “I hereby agree to abide by the terms of the contract.” Second, we may
indicate agreement by inference, whereby, through either our silence or actions,
others will understand that we’ve agreed to something. Social contract theorists
after Hobbes emphasized this second method, which they dubbed tacit consent.
Locke provided the definitive description of what counts as tacit consent:
 
Every man, that hath any possession, or enjoyment, of any part of the
dominions of any government, doth thereby give his tacit consent, and is as
far forth obliged to obedience to the laws of that government, during such
enjoyment, as any one under it. . . [Two Treatises of Government (1690),
2.119]
 
Thus, according to Locke, if I obtain any possession or benefit from a government,
then I’ve tacitly agreed to abide by the rules of that government. For example, if I
rely on protection from the local police or the U.S. military, then I’m receiving a
benefit from these government agencies and thereby tacitly agree to their rules.
             Scottish philosopher David Hume (1711–1776) was not satisfied with this
notion of tacit agreement. According to Hume, willful consent is the key element
in any agreement—including tacit agreements—and virtually no one has willfully
consented to the authority of their governments:
 
A tacit promise is, where the will is signified by other more diffuse signs
than those of speech; but a will there must certainly be in the case, and that
can never escape the person’s notice who exerted it, however silent or tacit.
But were you to ask the far greatest part of the nation, whether they had ever
consented to the authority of their rulers, or promised to obey them, they
would be inclined to think very strangely of you: and would certainly reply,
that the affair depended not on their consent, but that they were born to such
an obedience. [Treatise of Human Nature (1739–40), 3.2.8]
 
Hume argues that most people believe they were simply born into a condition of
obedience. In fact, according to Hume, based on the idea of a line of succession,
politicians try hard to trick people into believing that governments have natural
authority over their citizens. Our current rulers claim that many years ago an earlier
generation of citizens tacitly consented to a specific government, and governments
today inherit that authority over us. Since we cannot go back in time and interview
that first generation of citizens, we accept the politicians’ story and see ourselves
as born into a condition of obedience. In short, we are tricked into accepting
governmental authority, and neither we nor earlier generations of citizens ever
tacitly agreed to a social contract. Ironically, Hume feels that this deception is
actually a good thing. We need governments for our own protection, and if
governments are forced into tricking us into accepting their authority, then so be it.
The fact remains, though, that there neither is nor ever was a valid social contract
that people tacitly consented to.
             Hume is correct that people do not willfully consent to the terms of a social
contract—either explicitly or tacitly. Critics after Hume recognized this problem,
and British political philosopher William Godwin (1736–1836) highlights a range
of related conceptual problems with terms of the social contract:
 
Upon the first statement of the system of a social contract various
difficulties present themselves. Who are the parties to this contract? For
whom did they consent, for themselves only, or for others? For how long a
time is this contract to be considered as binding? If the consent of every
individual be necessary, in what manner is that consent to be given? Is it to
be tacit, or declared in express terms? [Enquiry Concerning Political
Justice (1793), 3.2]
 
According to Godwin, not only is there a problem with whether the contract is tacit
or explicit, but there are also questions about who is involved in the contract, how
long the contract is binding, and what the precise terms of the contract are.
Suppose that a defender of Hobbes concedes all of these problems and grants that
there is no actual contract in place. Instead, according to the defender, the contract
is only hypothetical. That is, we are only considering how a rational person would
respond if that person were placed in the state of nature and presented with a social
contract agreement.
             However, appealing to hypothetical contracts leads to yet another problem.
It does not make sense to say that I specifically am obligated to the terms of a
social contract simply because some imaginary rational person would agree to
those terms. We do not convict real people for crimes that imaginary people
commit. We do not reward real people for heroic deeds that imaginary people
perform. Why, then, should real people be contractually bound by an agreement
made by an imaginary person? We simply are not. In short, we must reject the idea
of an actual social contract that we supposedly agree to tacitly. We must also reject
the idea of a hypothetical social contract that an imaginary person agrees to. We
will return the issue of willful consent at the close of this chapter.
 
Regan’s Criticism: Social Contract Excludes Animals and Non-Rational
Humans
The social contract is like a moral club. Those who join are entitled to moral
consideration and are under the umbrella of governmental protection. Those who
do not join are essentially in the state of nature and have no moral consideration.
One requirement for joining the club is that implicit signers of the contract must be
rational and understand the terms of the contract. Unfortunately, animals do not
pass this requirement:
 
To make covenants with brute beasts is impossible, because not
understanding our speech, they understand not, nor accept of any translation
of right, nor can translate any right to another. And without mutual
acceptation, there is no covenant. [Leviathan, 14]
 
Contemporary philosopher Tom Regan (b. 1938) sees this as a big problem with
Hobbes’s version of social contract theory: “As for animals, since they cannot
understand contracts, they obviously cannot sign; and since they cannot sign, they
have no rights” (“The Case for Animal Rights,” 1985). Although many animals
experience pain, are aware of their surroundings, and are even aware of their own
identities, the narrow requirements of the social contract exclude them from direct
consideration. As members of the moral club we might agree to some set of rules
that addresses the issue of animals. For example, we can agree that if I own a dog,
you cannot harm my dog any more than you can damage my car. Both my dog and
my car are my property and my property is protected under the social contract.
Similarly, we may also decide to prohibit torturing even stray or wild animals. If
I’m allowed to torture strays just for fun, then I may be more inclined to torture
people just for fun. To keep me from developing hostile tendencies toward humans
who are club members, we may be willing to adopt a rule against torturing stray
animals.
             However, neither of these rules about animals take animals’ interests into
account directly. Animals count only to the extent that human club members have
a personal interest in them. This exclusivity problem with social contract theory
involves more than just animals. Even nonrational human members – such as
infants and the mentally impaired—will not get direct moral consideration. Like
animals, these beings are also incapable of rationally understanding the terms of
the contract. It seems, then, that there are two levels of morality in social contract
theory: (1) a higher level in which rationally consenting members have direct
moral consideration, and (2) a lower level in which nonrational beings get only
indirect consideration.
             In response, the situation for nonrational beings such as animals and
infants is not as discriminatory as Regan maintains. Even rationally consenting
club members get only indirect moral consideration. I do not show you moral
consideration because you directly deserve it as a valuable person; I give you
moral consideration only so that I myself can survive. Your moral wellbeing, then,
is secondary and dependent upon the value that I place in my own survival. To be
precise, social contract theory implies that there are three distinct levels of moral
consideration: (1) a primary level of consideration that I give myself, (2) a
secondary level that I give to signers of the contract, and (3) a tertiary level that we
agree to for animals and babies. If we are willing to accept the secondary moral
status of fellow humans, it is not much more of a stretch to accept the tertiary
moral status of nonrational beings. It might still seem unfair that nonrational beings
must rely on the preferences of rational club members in order to gain even tertiary
moral consideration. However, animals and infants are not the kinds of beings that
can speak on their own behalf. In any moral theory they require proxy
spokespeople to assert their rights, and in any moral theory this will depend on
how the spokespeople prefer to value animals and infants.