Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences Volume 32 Issue 4 1996 [Doi...

8/13/2019 Journal of the History of the Behavioral Sciences Volume 32 Issue 4 1996 [Doi 10.1002%2F%28sici%291520-6696

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lournat ofrhe istory ofrhe BehaviorulSciences: Vol. 32 4) 330-353 October 1996996 John Wiley Sons, Inc. CCC 0022-S061/96/040330-24

DURKHEIM, REALISM, AND ROUSSEAU

ROBERT ALUN JONES

In Emile (1762), Rousseau advocated a kind of negative education, free from books,abstract concepts, and the tyrannyof human wills, so that the child learned in accordancewith his own nature and the heavy yokeof necessity imposed by the dependence onreal, concrete things.In Les Rkgles dela mithode sociologique(1895), Durkheim insistedthat sociological method rests entirely on one principle-i.e., que les fa its sociauxdoivent 2tre Ltudiis comme des choses.This paper explores the historical relationshipbetween the educational realism epitomized in the first book and thesocial realism epito-mized in the second. Focusing on D ur ee im s lecture notes on both the,Contratsocial(1918) and Emile (1919), as well as LEducation morale (1925) and LEvoEution pLda-gogique en France (1938), I lend empirical support to Sheldon Wolins claim thatDurkheim has been the medium by which Rousseau has left his mark on modern socialscience. I also place Durkheims realism-both socia l and educational- within the

larger contextof his political commitment to the Third French Republic. 1996 John Wi-ley Sons, Inc.

DURKHEIMND SOCIAL REALISM

My interest in the relationship between Durkheim and Rousseau grows out of a bookIam writing on Durkheim s social realism-i.e., the view, epitom ized inLes R2gles de lamethude suciulugique 1895 , that social phenomena should be studiedcumme des choses,as real, concre te things, subject to the laws of nature and discoverable by scientific reason.This methodological injunction has become a standard part of most introductory sociologytextbooks and often passes as a thumbnail sketch of Durkheims philosophy of social scienceitself. Aside from its centrality to Durkheim s sociology, however, social realism is in terest-ing because it embodies two distinguishable vocabularies-i.e., ways of speaking aboutso-cial phenomena-that were often in some tension with one another. The firstvocabulary- which places stress on the noun realism-suggests that society is not sim-ply sim ilar to nature, but is itself areal, natural thing, a part of nature, and subject to itslaws. This was a way of speaking that Durkheim seem s to have acquired from C omte,Spencer, and especially Espinas; and, for that reason,I shall hereafter describe it as theEspinasian vocabulary. The second, related aspect of Durkheims social realism- whichplaces greater emphasis on the adjective social- was that society is aparticular, distinc-tive part of na ture, a realitysui generis, irreducib le to the laws discovered by psychologistsor biologists. This way of speaking Durkheim attributed again to Com te, but especially to hismentor in philosophy, Emile Boutroux, andI shall henceforth refer to it as theBoutruuxianvocabulary.

The d istinction between these two vocabularies is hardly scho lastic, for to many ears ,there is a tension between them. An emphasis on the reality of social phenomena and theirstatus as a part of the natural world, for example, is sometimes conjoined with reductionist

ROBERTLUN ONESs professor of religious studies, history, and sociology at the Universityof Illi-nois in Urbana-Champa ign. His m ajor research interests include Durkheim and his intellectual context,the methodologyof the history of deas, and the scholarly use of electronic documents and networked in-formation systems. Correspondence address: Departmentof Sociology, Universityof Illinois, 702 SouthWright Street, Urb ana,IL 61801.

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DURKHEIM, REALISM, AND ROUSSEAU 33 1

accounts that explain social phenomena by nonsocial causes. Inversely, the claim that socialphenomena are irreducible to psychological or biological modes of explanation is frequentlymade by those who would also insist that sociology is not scientific at all. Some of

Durkheims critics could embrace the Espinasian vocabulary, therefore, but found itsBoutrouxian counterpart ujterly incom prehensible, whereas others celebrated the autonomyof social phenomena while insisting that any kind of causal explanation implied the denial offree will. The relationship between these two vocabularies, therefore, was precarious, andDurkheims bilingual insistence on both may be considered one of the more distinctive as-pects of his sociological thought, and at least one measureof the exten t of his achievem ent.

Durkheim s social realism has thus attracted the interest of sociological theorists andphilosophers of science for som e time. My own interest, however, is purely historical. Fromwhom, fo r exam ple, did Durkheim learn to speak these vocabularies? How did Durkheimuse these linguistic resources to his own ends, and how was his use of them perceived by his

intellectual opponents? What was the relationship between Durkheims social realism andhis religious and political comm itments? And how do the answersto these questions affectthe way we assess Durkheims place in the history of the social sciences?

My effort to provide answers to these questions about Durkheims social realism hasled in a variety of directions-e.g., the political contex t of the Third Republics effort tolaicize French education; Durkheims complex, often ambiguous debt to Com te, Spencer,and especially Alfred Espinas; the influenceof Fustel de Coulanges and Emile Boutroux,with whom Durkheim studied at the Ecole Normale Superieure; Durkheim s travels in Ger-many in 1885-1886, where he came under the influence of German social science and espe-cially Wilhelm Wundt; Montesquieus Esprit des lois, which became the focus ofDurkheims Latin thesis; and especially Durkheims two lecture-courses on education,posthumously published asLEvolution pedagogique en France(1938) and LEducationmorale (1925). But most recently, it has led to R ousseau.

ROUSSEAUN DURKHEIMSARLYWORK

Rousseau was a presence in Durkheims work from the s tart. The notes taken by AndreLalande in Durkheim s lecture-course on philosophy at the LycCe de Sens in 1883, for exam-ple, suggest that Durkheim objected strongly to Rousseaus assumption that society, estab-

lished to provide a secure and properous destiny for its members,is therefore somethingartificial. In his early review of the first volume of Albert SchaefflesBau und Leben desSozialen Kiirpers (1885), Durkheim praised the authors conception of wealth as both ameans of societal expression and of communication(Gii ter der Darstellung undMittgeilung).The source of life that this wealth transmits, Durkheim added, is the individual.But here [wle are not dealing with man as Rousseau conceived of him-that abstract be-ing, born to solitude , renouncing it only very late and by a sort of voluntary sacrifice, andthen only as the issue of a well-deliberated covenant. Every man is, on the contrary, born forsociety and in a society. Man was born free, Durkheim cited the famous opening ofRousseaus Contrat Social,and he is everyw here in ha ins. If this is true, there is reasonto fear that at any moment he will break his chains. But this savage individualism,Durkheim reassured his reader, is not part of nature. The real man-the man who is trulya man-is an integral part of a society which he loves just as he loves himself, becausehe cannot withdraw from it without becoming de ~ a d e n t. ~y showing that sociology has asubject matter no less rea l than that of the life sciences, Schaeffle had thus dealt the final


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332 ROBERT ALUN JONES

blow to the doctrines of Hobbes and Rousseau. Just one year later, in a review of the sameauthorsDie Quintessenzdes Sozialismus,Durkheim sounded a similar note. The distinctionbetween civil and political society, Durkheim observed, is coherent only to the extent that

the S tate is seen as a completely exterior bond, an artificial system which is superadded tosociety, but does not emanate from it, This, Durkheim insisted, is the simplistic conceptionof Rousseau, to which the economic school adheres doggedly, and this after a century of ex-periences which hardly seem to have been favorable to the theory of theContrat social.6

As these reviews of Schaeffles books appeared, Durkheim was traveling in G ermany,visiting the universities of Berlin , Marburg, and Leipzig. Announcing on his return that, theold [German] morality was in decline, Durkheim insisted that Kantian individualism hadbeen replaced by a pronounced feeling for the collective life. If we wish to understandGerman political ideas, Durkheim thus added, [wle m ust not judge with our French ideas.If the G erman conceives the State as a power supe rior to individuals, it is due neither to mys-

ticism nor to servility. For the Germ an, the State is not what it is for us-a great machinedestined to comprom ise this multitude of unsociable beings as Rousseau imagined. Unfor-tunately for us, Durkheim concluded, this is the conception of the state in which we continueto believe, for we have only half-heartedly disowned theContrat social.7 In a companion es-say on La Science positive de la morale en Allemagne (1887), Durkheim objected to theeconomists of both the Manchester School-e.g., unwitting disciples of Rousseau, whosee in the social bond only a superficialrapprochement,determined by the m eeting of inter-ests8-and the Kathedersozialisten-e.g., who see in the superior functions of societyonly artificial arrangem ents, without relation w ith the nature ofthing^. ^

Arriving in B ordeaux, Durkheim began his inaugural lecture with an attack on that ideawhich radically prevented the establishment of sociology-i.e., the notion of society as ahuman creation , a product of a rt and reflection. According to this view, Durkheim added,there is nothing in the nature of man which necessarily predestined him to co llective life; hehimself invented it and established it. Whether it is everyones creation, as Rousseau argues,or that of a single man, as Hobbes thinks, it derived in its entirety from our brains and fromour imaginations. Is the ideal for societies, Durkheim asked of Spencer, the ferocious in-dividualism which Rousseau made their point of departure?Is positive politics just theSo-cial Contract all over again? If man is essentially a whole, an individual and egoisticbeing, Durkheim again objected in his 1890 review of FerneuilsLes Principes de 1789 et

la science sociale, if he has no other objective than the developm ent of his moral personal-ity (K ant) or the satisfaction of his needs with the least possible effort (Bas tiat), society ap-pears as something against nature, as a violence wreaked upon our most fundamentalpropensities. Rousseau avows this, o r rather proclaims it.13

In De la Division du travail social 1893), Durkheim insisted that the notion of a soc ialcontrac t contrad icts the princ iple of the division of labor. The greater the importance oneascribes to the latter, Durkheim thus em phasized, the more com pletely must one abandonRousseaus po~ tul ate . ~or such a contract requires that all individual wills should be inagreem ent on the foundations of social organization; in short, the content of each individualconsc iousness would be identical to every other. If social solidarity arises from a social con-

tract, Durkheim concluded, then it has no connection to the division of labor. Durkheim ac-knowledged Rousseaus recognition that the hypothesized state of nature prior to thecontrac t must necessarily be am oral. Man is only a m oral being because he lives in society,Durkheim agreed , since morality cons ists in so lidarity with the group, and varies accordingto that solidarity. Cause all social life to vanish, and moral life would vanish at the sametime, havingno object to cling to.15 ButLes R2gles de la mLthode sociologique(1895) sim-


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DURKHEIM, REALISM, AND ROUSSEAU 333

ply repeated the argument that had by now becomede rigueur: Neither Hobbes norRousseau, Durkheim complained, appear to have noticed the complete contradiction thatexists in admitting that the individual is himself the creator of a machine whose essential

roleis

to exercise domination and constraint over him. Alternatively,it

may have seemed tothem that, in order to get rid of this contrad iction, it was sufficient to conceal it from the eyesof its victims by the skil lful device of the social contract.6

This early and repeatedly negative assessment of Rousseau is striking when juxtaposedwith som e of the more ambitious claims that have been made for Rousseaus influence onDurkheim , as w ell as Durkheims role as an intermediary for Rousseaus impact on m odernsocial science. Robert Deratht, fo r example, has insisted that Durkheim was fully aw are ofhaving been influenced by R ousseau, who was one of his favorite authors. And SheldonWolin argues that Durkheims sociology is the purest restatement of Rousseau. . . themedium, so to speak, by which Rousseau has left his mark on modem social science. The

contrast between these two assessments invites a careful reading, not only of Durkheimspublished texts, but also of the notes fo r his lecture-courses onLe Contrat socialand Emile.

DURKHEIMN ROUSSEAUSOW RA T SOCIAL(1762)

Som etime between 1896 and 1902, when Durkheim was still at Bordeaux, he taught alecture-course on RousseausContrat social (1762), for which-as was his custom-hewrote out his lecture notesin extenso. Later he redrafted these for publication, promisingthem to Xavier Lio n, editor of theRevue de Metaphysique et de M orale.To this study of theContrat Social he then conjoined some notes on .&mile,from a more recent course onRousseaus educationa l theory he had taught twice in Paris. Though not generally realized,Durkheim explained, the two themes are closely linked.20Upon his death, the executors ofDurkheim s works decided to publish both the study of theContrat social and the less devel-oped notes on Emile in the Revue de Metaphysique et de Morale,where they appeared in1918 and 1919, respectively.

The chief objective ofThe Social Contract,Durkheim began, [is] to find a form ofassociation, or, as Rousseau also calls it, ofcivil state, whose laws can be superimposedupon the fundamental laws inherent in thestate of nature without doing violence to them.Implicit within this objective, of course, was R ousseaus judgm ent that such a form of asso-

ciation had not yet been found, for men had deviated from their original, natural condition,and they had doneso unnecessarily. To understand Rousseau, Durkheim thus observed, wemust learn what he meant by the state of nature, and then determine how it is that we cameto depart from this original, natural condition. Only then, Durkheim sum marized his prob-lem, shall we be in a position to examine Rousseaus reasons for believing that this devia-tion was not inevitable, and his remarks as to how the two [natural and civil] states, atvariance in several respec ts, can be reconciled.2

As Rousseau made clear in theDiscours sur lorig ine de linegalite(1755), Durkheimobserved, his state of nature was apsychological,rather than a historical, construct-i.e.,it was not a condition in which hum an beings actually lived before societies cam e into being,

but rather a device to help us distinguish between those things that we owe to society, andthose that we owe to our psychological nature. The distinction was im portant to R ousseau,Durkheim emphasized, because he shared the traditional confusion that conceives thenatural as coextensive with the individual, and everything that goes beyond theindividual-i.e., society-as artificial. Our present forms of associa tion eitherfollow lug-ically from human nature, Rousseau observed, or theydeform it. The critical assessment of


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these forms, as w ell as the determination of what form s should replace them, must thereforebegin with an analysisof man in his natural condition. And to arrive at this natural man,Durkheim paraphrased Rousseau, we must put aside everything within us that is a product

of soc ial existence. Otherwise, we should find ourselves in a vicious circle, for we should bejustifying society on the basis of society, that is, on the ideas and feelings society has im-planted in us.22

Durkheim was impressed with the extent to which this observation of R ousseaus sec-ond Discours was essentially methodological, and also with how m uch it owed to D escartes:

Both [Descartes and R ousseau] hold that the first operation of science should be a kindof intellectual purge that will clear the mindof all mediate judgments that have notbeen demonstrated scientifically and lay bare the axioms from w hich all other proposi-tions should be derived. Both set out to remove the rubble and uncover the solid rock onwhich the en tire structure of knowlede should rest; in the one case theoretical knowl-edge, in the other practical knowledge.3

Durkheim thus denied that Rousseaus notion of the stateof nature was in any senseromantic-e.g., that it was a figmentof sentimental reverie, ora philosophical restora-tion of the ancient belief in the golden age.24On the contrary, Rousseaus observation oflower combined with the theory of the ab bt de Condillac?6 convinced Rousseauthat even the sim plest forms of abstract knowledge presuppose language, while language it-self presupposes social life.So as Durkheim himself would later insist in his essay on LaDCtermination du fait moral 1906), Rousseaus conception of man in the state of naturewas tha t of a being reduced to sensation and hardly different from an animal.

This dismissal of any romantic interpretation of Rousseau was important, because ital-lowed Durkheim to focus on what he considered the most essential aspect of Rousseaus no-tion of the state of nature. Precisely because Rousseaus natural man was reduced exclusivelyto sensations, Durkheim observed, he could desire only those things found in his immediatephysical environment; and thus his desires would necessarily be purely physical and extremelysimple, resulting in a perfect balance between his needs and the resources at his disposal.28Under these circumstances, Durkheim emphasized, man is in harmony w ith his environmentbecause he is a purely physical being, dependent on his physical environment and nothing else.The nature within him necessarily corresponds to the nature

This explains Rousseaus famous rejection of the equally famous argument of H obbes,in Leviathan 1651), that the state of nature was a state of war.30First, in a condition whereneeds w ere exactly proportionate to the resources necessary to satisfy them, the incentive towar-i.e., unsatisfied needs- was lacking.31And second,pace Hobbes, Rousseau was per-suaded that the primitive, unreflective form of identification that led to the feeling of pitywas present in anim als, and therefore also in natural man.32Durkheim admits that, in the Es-sai SUY lorigine des langues 1781), Rousseau seems to contradict this second argumen t,33leading some scholars to argue that his later work moves more in the direction of Hobbesand his theory of the state of war. But D urkheim resists this interpretation, arguing that thelater passage simply refers to the reflection necessary before the natural sentim entof pity-initially limited to that small circleof individuals with whom the natural man had rela-tions-could be extended to all mankind. At most, therefore, the Essai is a clarification andpartial correction of the idea developed in the second D i s c o ~ r s . ~ ~

But if Rousseau thus denied Hobbes equivalence of the state of nature w ith the state ofwar, neither did he suggest that natural man lived in societies properly so-called. Instinctand sensation sufficed for all h is needs, and lacking imag ination, he could not conce ive of


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any benefits society might afford. Neither did he possess language, without which social re-lationships would be im possib le. Natural man was thus not unsocial, but asocial;35and simi-larly, he was not im moral, but am oral.36 Thanks to a very w ise providence, Rousseauobserved, his potential faculties developed only with the opportunities to use them,so thatthey were neither superfluous nor prematurely onerous, nor belated and unavailing whenthey were needed. In instinct alone man had everything he needed to live in the state of na-ture, and in cultivated reason , he has everything he needs to live in society.37

At this point in the lecture, Durkheim appended a note, reminding himself to read theentire passage to his audience: Very important, he added, for it shows that [for Rousseau]social existence is not a diabolical machination but was willed providentially, and that al-though primitive nature did not necessarily lead to it, it nevertheless contained potentiallywhat would make social existence possible when it became nece~sary.~~n one sense, thenote em phasized again how critical Durkheim could be of romantic interpretations of the

second Discours as a story of mans Fall, under the influence of a corrupt society, from som eprimitive state of grace; and in another sense, it indicated the peculiar attraction thatRousseaus natural man held for Durkheim -i.e., a human nature that contained poten-tially the things that w ould m ake society possible (when external conditions called for thisparticular kind of associa tion), but notso constitu ted that it would lead, unconditionally andnecessarily, to societal life. The proper element of contingency thus estab lished, Durkheimturned to Rousseaus explanation of those factors that gave rise to socia l life.

Socie ties can com e into existence , Durkheim observed, only if man is prevented fromremaining in the state of nature. Because the only environment that affects natural man isthe physical environment, this is where we m ust look for the external cause. In theEssui surloriginedes lungues, Rousseau thus asks us to imagine a physical environment in which allhuman needs were always satisfied: I cannot see, Rousseau adds, how they would everhave su rrendered their primitive freedom and given up their isolated existence,so appropri-ate to their natural in d ~ le n c e . ~ ~y contrast, the obstacles human beings actually encoun-tered in nature began to stimulate their faculties. Intelligence evolved beyond instinct andsensation. New, more com plex needs developed, upsetting the primitive balance between de-sires and resources, and people began to rea lize the advantage of cooperation in their effortsto satisfy these new needs.

This first extens ion of physical needs thus gave rise to the tendency to form groups; and

groups, once formed, aroused social inclinations, the need for civility, the duty of respec tingcontractual obligations, and even an em bryonic ethics. Having emerged from their embry-onic indolence, their minds sharpened by frequent relations, human beings developed agri-culture and its derivative arts, giving rise to the first division of labor, the partition ing ofland, and the recognition of private property. This possibility of new economic rewards againstimulated new desires, and these desires in turn gave rise to com petition and econom ic in-equality. Initially the consequence of differences of circum stance, these differences amongpeople became increasingly permanent in their effects, leading to classes of rich and poor,the weak and the powerful.Puce Hobbes, the state of war is not the origin of society, butrather its effect. Finally, in terms M arx would la ter appreciate, Rousseau described the m ost

astute project that has ever occurred to the human mind-i.e., faced with this state of war,the rich proposed to their fellows that they establish rules of peace and justice to whicheveryone would conform , and a supreme power to protect and defend all the members of theassociation-the originof al l laws and governments

The resulting civil state, as Durkheim had observed as early as1886, is not itself nat-ural, but rather arti fi~ ial .~ ut Durkheim would never again describe Rousseaus notion


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as simplistic. On the contrary, howeverartificial, the society had emerged naturally fromthe state of nature: In fac t, Rousseaus civil state is artificial in at least two senses. Firs t, aswe have already seen, human beings are not constituted in such a way that they are con-

strained to en ter social life. On the contrary, each individual is self-sufficient in the stateofnature. [T lhe social virtues cou ld never have developed unaided, but instead required thefortuitous aid of several foreign causes which might never have arisen, and w ithout whichman would have remained eternally in his primitive state.43Society comes into existencebecause men see that their needs will be m ore easily satisfied through interdependence; butinterdependence tself is not rooted in human nature.

Second, thoughnecessary, this interdependence is not itselfsufficientto produce sociallife. To this original base, Durkheim argued, itself a product of humanart must be addedsomething else that has the same origin. Specifically, this interdependence must be regu-lated and organized in a definite way. For according to Rousseau, a society is

a moral entity having specific qualities distinct from those of the individual beingswhich compose it, somewhat as chemical compounds have properties that they owe tonone of their elements. If the aggregation resulting from these vague relationships re-ally formed a social body, there would be a kind of comm on sensorium that would out-live the correspondence of all the parts. Public good and evil would not be m erely thesum of individual good and evil, as in a sim ple aggregation, but would lie in the rela tionthat unites them. It would be greate r than that sum, and public well-being would not bethe result of the happ iness of individuals, but rather its source.44

So the mere fac t that men realize that they can help each other and have fallen into the habitof doing so, even when added to the feeling that they all have something in common, thatthey all belong to the human race, Durkheim periphrased Rousseau, does not form theminto a new kind of corporate body with its own specific charac ter and composition, that is, asociety.45

It is d ifficult to exaggerate the significance of this idea to Durkheims social thought.This rem arkable passage, Durkheim em phasized to his audience, proves that Rousseauwas keenly aware of the specificityof the social order. He conceived it clearly as an order offacts generically different from purely individual facts. It is a new world superimposed onthe purely psychological world. Such a conception was, to Durkheim , far superior even tothat of such recent theorists as Spencer, who think they have grounded society in nature

when they have pointed out that man has a vague sympathy for his fellow men, and that it isto his in terest to exchange services with them.46Vague sympathies and private interests maymake for intermittant contacts and superficial relationships between individuals, but theylack what Rousseau called the connection between the parts that constitutes the whole.In short, Rousseau believed that society was a live, organized body, distinct from andgreater than the sum of its ~ a r t s . 4 ~

But again, this is not to say that society isnatural. On the contrary, for R ousseau, onlythe individual is real and natural,so society must be the product of human reason. The dif-ference between hum an art and the w ork of nature, Rousseau observed, can be felt in theireffects. It is all very well for the citizens to call themselves the limbs of the state; they can-not unite as real limbs unite with the body. It is imposs ible to prevent each one from havingan individual and separate existence and attending to h is ownneed^.' Even the family,which R ousseau famously described inLe Contrat social as [tlhe oldest of all societies, andthe only natural one, is anatural group only so long as the children are attached to theirparents by the need for self-preservation.As soon as the child is able to look after himself,Rousseau had observed, the natural bond is di s ~ o l v e d . ~ ~or Rousseau, in short, everyso-


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ciety is an artificial entity. But w hat particularly fascinated Durkheim in Le Contratso-cial, was its interming ling of two ideas-i.e., the notion of society as the product of reason,and that of society as an organism-ideas that we normally consider not only distinct butcontradictory. Moreover, in Rousseau , each idea seems to imply the other-e.g., it is be-cause society is an organism that it must be a work of art, for nature contains only individu-als, and society is clearly superior to the individual.

For Durkheim , the logical step was obvious-i.e., simply acknowledge that there issomething (society) both real and natural, above and outside of the individual. But[elvery attem pt to widen the circle of natural phenomena, Durkheim admitted, requires agreat effort, and the m ind resorts to all kinds of subterfuges and evasions before resigning it-self to so grave a change in its system of ideas.51But by this time, Durkheim had alreadycom e to prefer Rousseaus subterfuges and evasions to those of Spencer, who regardsso-ciety as a product of nature, a living thing like other living things, but strips it of its spe -

cific character by reducing it to a mechanical juxtaposition ofindividual^."^'If nothing else,Rousseau tried to resolve the problem without abandoning either of the two principles inquestion-i.e., the individualist principle (which underlies Rousseaus theory of the state ofnature as well as Spencers theory of natural law), and the socialist principle which underliesRousseaus organic conception of society.53

Still, for Rousseau, society is not a natural thing. Does this mean that society representsthe corruption of hum an nature, an evil consequence of m ankinds fall and degeneration? Tounderstand Rousseau here, Durkheim insists, we must make a distinction. Society as we findit today is, indeed, a m onstrosity that came into being and continues to ex ist only through aconjunction of accidental and regrettablecircumstance^. ^As Rousseau has shown in thesecond Discours, those natural inequalities which derive from differences of age, health,physical strength, mental and spiritual qualities, etc., have been replaced by artificial inequali-ties-e.g., of wealth, privilege, status, power, etc.-that are contrary to the sta te of nature.These artificial inequalities initially result from inheritance; but then, stimulated by socialevolution, they becom e stab le and legitimate through the establishment of property and law.55

This first violation of law of nature then leads to a second, which Rousseau describedmore fully in Le Contrat social and Emile. Briefly, in the state of nature, the individual isself-sufficient, depending only on the impersonal and invariable forces of the physical envi-ronment. But as society evolves, this natural independence is replaced by an artificial,

servile interdependence , a society composed of masters and slaves, in which the first are stillmore enslaved than the second.So for Rousseau, there are two kinds of dependence-i.e.,the dependence on things, which is a phenomenon of nature, and the dependence on otherhuman beings, which is a phenomenon of society. The dependence on things-i.e., neces-sary, stable, impersonal, etc.-is not an obstac le to freedom ; for in nature, our needs are inharmony with our means. We do whatever we desire , because we desire only what is possi-ble. But the dependence on other human beings-willful, unstab le, avaricious, deceitfu l,etc. -produces the mutual corruption and depravity of master and slave.56

It is here that Durkheim confronts the passage in Emile that must surely have stoppedhim cold: If there is any means of remedying this ill in society, Rousseau continued,

it is to substitute law for man and to arm the genera l will with a real strength superior tothe action of every particular will. If the laws of nations could, like those of nature,have an inflexibility that no human force could ever conquer, dependence on menwould then becom e dependence on things again; in the republic all of the advantages ofthe natural state would be united w ith those of the civil state, and freedom w hich keepsman exem pt from vices would be joined to morality which raises him to virtue.57


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why Durkheim considered him a powerful ally for social realism. Although Rousseaus soci-ety is the artificial work of human beings, it is createdrationally out of natural things-i.e., in accordance with their nature, and thus without doing violence to them. In this

way-and only in this way-the social environment becomes a new form of theprimitiveenvironment.66This argument turns heavily on Rousseaus distinction between anaggregation and an

association. We have already noted that Durkheim placed special emphasis on Rousseausinsistence that social life presupposes not only interdependence, but interdependence thatis regulated and organized in a definite way.67 n Rousseaus critique of Grotius,6* he sig-nificance of this d istinction becomes clear. InDe Jure Belli ac Pacis (O n the Law of War andPeace) 1620-25), Gro tius had attempted to provide a rational justification for the right ofthe strongest, arguing , for exam ple, that if an individual may alienate his freedom , a peoplemight do the sam e, and that the right of war implies the right of slavery. In a justifably fa-

mous passage, Rousseau denied that this right could be justified r a t i ~ n a l l y ; ~ ~ut even if itcould-and this was the more important point for Durkheim -this would still be insuffi-cient to establish socia l life. For asociety, Durkheim paraphrased Rousseau, is an organizedbody in which each part is dependent upon the whole, and vice versa. There is no such inter-dependence in the case of a mob sub ject to a chief.70Grotius argues that a people may giveitself to a king. Rousseau answ ers that, before considering the act by w hich a peop le sub-mits to a king, we ought to scrutinize the act by which a people becomea people, for thatact, being necessarily antecedent to the other, is the real foundation of ~ oc ie ty . ~

Such an act clearly implies anassociation, Durkheim emphasizes, not simply anaggre-gation. Rousseaus problem was thus to find the particularorm of association which woulddefend and protect with the whole common force the person and goods of each associate,and in which each , while uniting with all, may still obey himself alone, and remain as free asbefore.72 This was the problem to which Rousseaus social contract- the imm ersion ofeach individual will into a common, general will as the solution. And for Durkheim , themost im portant aspect of this genera l will was that it had

the impersonal character of natural forces.A man is no less free for submitting to it.Not only do we not enslave ourselves by obeying it, but, what is more, it alone can pro-tect us against actual servitude, for if, to make this w ill possible, we must forego subju-gating others, others must make the same concession. Such is the nature of the

equivalence and com pensa tion that re-es tablish the balance ofthings.73

Durkheims understanding of the advantages of this contract led him to quarrel with PaulJanet?4 If there is compensation for the alienation of my person, Durkheim emphasized,it is no t, as Paul Janet has said, because I receive in exchange the personality of others. Onthe contrary, when I alienate myself, it is the body politic as a corporate bodysui generis,and not the individuals, which receives me; and whatI receive in return is the assurancethat [I] shall be protected by the fu ll force of the soc ial organism against the individual en-croachments of others.75Durkheim was equally emphatic that the advantagesof this ex-change are not derived from the greatermaterial force that results from the association of

individual wills, but rather from its general, impersonalmoral force: The general will mustbe respected, Durkheim insisted, not because it isstronger but because it is general. Ifthere is to be justice am ong individuals, there must be something outside them, a beingsuigeneris, which ac ts as arbiter and determines the law. This something is society, which ow esits moral supremacy, not to its physical supremacy, but to itsnature, which is superior to thatof individual^. ^^


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What is this collective will? In one sense, Durkheim answ ers, it is the sum of all par-ticular, individual wills. Butit is also more than this-i.e., the objec t to which it is appliedmust be as general as the source from which it comes. In other words, the general will is

the consequence of the deliberation concerning the nation itself -i.e., the common inter-e ~ t . ~ ~hat, then, is the comm on interest? Durkheim points out that the phrase is oftentaken to refer to the interest of the society as a whole, by con trast with the interests of partic-ular citizens. But this, Durkheim em phasizes, is clearlynut what Rousseau has in mind. ForRousseau believes that anyth ing that is useful to all is useful to each. The comm on interestis thus the interest of all individuals inso far as they desire what is most appropriate, not tothis or that particular person , but . . . to each citizen. Thus the comm on interest exists assoon as all continually will the happiness of each one.

This is a condition, Durkheim observes, that is more egoistic than altruistic, for thereis not a man w ho does not thinkof each as meaning him, and consider himself in votingfor

all. . . . This proves that equality of rights and the idea of justice which such equality cre-ates originate in the preference each man gives to himself, and accordingly in the very natureof man.78This explains why the general will is best expressed when each individual exer-cises his share of sovereignty separately from the others ithout actual delibera tions orthe formation of intermediate groups- so that the differences among individuals canceleach other out, leaving the general will as the a rithmetical mean of all individual wills.

Reflecting on Rousseaus theory of the general will, Durkheim was disposed to em pha-size four things. First, Durkheim reminded his audience, we discern the horror of all partic-ularism , the unitary conception of society, that was one of the characteristics of the FrenchRev~lut ion.~econd , we also encounter at every turn the two, antithetical conceptions inRousseaus social theory-i.e., the idea of society as a mere instrumen t for the use of theindividual, and the notion of the individual as dependent on a social reality that far tran-scends the multitude of individuals.s0Third , and most importan t, we see again that the au-thority of the general will lies in its moral rather than material force. If the community mustbe obeyed, Durkheim emphasized, it is not because it commands, but because it com-mands the common good. The common interest does not exist by virtue of laws or de-crees, but rather lies outside of and transcends them; indeed , law is what it ought to be onlyif it expresses the com mon in terest. Ultimately, the general will lies in the collective uncon-scious of society, in its habits, customs, and traditions, and in a persistent disposition of in-

dividuals towards its object-i.e., the comm on interest.**Finally, referring to Rousseaus argument that the sovereignty established by the socialcontrac t must be indivisible, Durkheim noted that the unity ascribed to it could therefore notbe organic-i.e., could not be constituted by a system of diverse, interdependent forces.Rousseaus frequent comparisons of society to a living body, there fore, do not imply thatsociety is a whole made up of d istinct parts, working together precisely because they are dis-tinct. On the contrary, his view is that each is anim ated by a s ingle, indivisib le soul whichmoves all the parts in the same direction by depriving them, to the same degree, of all inde -pendent movement. This comparison, Durkheim insisted, is based on a vitalist and sub-stantialist conception of life and society. The animal body and the social body are bothactuated by a vital force w hose synergic action produces the cooperation of the parts.83 nsharp contrast to the argument presented by Durkheim inDe la Division u travail social1893), Rousseau describes the division of labor as a secondary, derivative phenomenon

that does not create the unityof the individualor collective organism, but rather presupposesit. Once constituted , the sovereign generates various organs, which are em anations of it-self, entrusted with implementing the general will. In short, Durkheim concluded, social


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DURKHEIM, REALISM, AND ROUSSEAU 34 1

solidarity results from the law s that attach the indiv iduals to the group and not to each othe r.They are linked to each other only because they are linked to the community, that is, alien-ated within it. Rousseaus equalitarian individualism did not allow him to take another pointof view.84

Durkheims final lecture thus stressed the perfect continuity between the secondDis-cours and Le Contrat social:

The state of nature, as described in the former, is a kind of peaceful anarchy in whichindividuals, independent of each other and without ties between them, depend onlyupon the abstract force of nature. In thecivil state, as viewed by Rousseau, the situationis the same, though in a different form. The individuals are unconnected with eachother; there is a minimum of personal relation between them, but they are dependentupon a new force, which is superimposed on the natural forces but has the same gener-ality and necessity, namely, thegeneral will. In the state of nature, man submits volun-

tarily to the natural forces and spontaneously takes the direction they impose becausehe fee ls instinctively that this isto his advantage and that there is nothing better for himto do. His action coincides with his will. In the civil state, he submits just as freely tothe general will because it is of his own making and because in obeying it he is obey inghimself.85

From Hobbes, to Montesquieu, to Rousseau, Durkheim summarized for his audience, weobserve an increasing effort to root the social being in nature. But therein, he added, liesthe weakness of [Rousseaus] system. Durkheim emphasizes again that, for Rousseau, soci-ety is not contrary to the social order; but still, it hasso little in common with nature thatone wonders how it is possible. . . . So unstable is [societys] foundation in the nature ofthings, Durkheim concluded, that it cannot but appear to us as a tottering structure whosedelicate balance can be established and m aintained only by an almost miraculous conjunc-tion of circumstances.s6

DURKHEIMN &MILE, O U LEDVCATION (1762)

As we have seen, Durkheims lecture-course on Rousseaus educational theory wasgiven on two occasions after he settled in Paris in1902. Education was a life-long interestand concern of Durkheims, and as his note to Xavier LCon indicates, he considered the

themes of Le Contrat social and Emile to be closely linked.87 nLe Contrat social, for ex-ample, Rousseaus goal had been to conceive a civil state that would suit man in general-i.e., a plan based on the essential elements of human nature, regardless of its particularcircumstances. Similarly,Emile does not enquire which form of education is appropriate toa particular country or epoch, Durkheim observed, for [tlhese arechance conditions whichhave no bearing on the fundamental nature of things and should be disregarded.s8Neitherdoes Rousseau ask what kind of education is most appropriate for a specific occupation: Itmatters little to me, he said, whether my pupil is intended for the army, the church or thelaw. Before his parents chose a calling for him nature called him to be a man. Life is thetrade I would teach him.89Again and again, Durkheim observes, the need is to set aside the

accidental, the variable and to get at the essential, the rock upon which human realityrests.90

In addition to this preference for the general rather than the particular, Durkheimemphasized Rousseaus insistence on the natural goodness of the child and the adultspropensity for evil: God makes all things good, Rousseau observes, man meddles withthem and they becom e evil.91But Rousseau is not telling us to be less meddlesome, to adopt


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a laissez-faire policy with regard to the childs education. For by nature, the child is alsoweak and, in particular, lacks the harmony between desires and strength which Rousseauhad discussed in the secondDiscours. Left in his natural, independent condition, the child

would develop such a harmony, learning fromthings;

but this alone would not prepare thechild to live in society, to become a citizen. Good social institutions, Durkheim thusquoted Rousseau, are those best fitted to make a man unnatural, to exchange his indepen-dence for dependence, to m erge the unit in the g roup,so that he no longer regards himself asone, but as a part of the whole, and is only conscious of the comm on life.92 In short, educa-tion must transfo rm or denature the natural child.

How is the educator to do this? The mere limitation of our desires is not enough,Rousseau observes, for if [our desires] were less than our powers, part of our facultieswould be idle, and we should not enjoy our w hole being; neither is the mere extensionof ourpowers enough,f o r if our desires were also increased we should only be the more miser-

able.93 nstead, happiness is to be found indecreasing the difference between our desiresand our powers, thus establishing a perfect equilibrium between the power and the will.Only then, Rousseau added, when all its forces are employed, will the soul be at rest andman will find him self in his true position. This is the condition in which nature -whodoes everything for the best-has placed the child from the start: It is only in this primi-tive condition, Rousseau observes, that we find the equilibrium between des ire and power,and then alone man is not unhappy.So we should educate the child in accordance with h isnature.

How, Durkheim asked as he ended this first lecture, is pedagogy to become scien-tific? Briefly, he answ ered, by basing itself on the objective study of a given reality, andthus providing itself with a guarantee against subjective impressions. Before Rousseau , edu-cationa l theory has conveyed only feelings aspirations, reasons masquerading as arguments.Nothing to study, Durkheim emphasized. But inEmile, the idea is put forward thatto benormal, education must reproduce a given model in reality.Not a construct, since there issom ething to find out, Refer to the given fact, placed beyond the realm of fantasy. Incipien tscience, Durkheim applauded Rousseau, [sltronglya priori. Yet, in principle, an objectivestandard 95

What, then, does nature teachus about education? First, Durkheim observed, natureteaches us that there a certain number of basic needs-e.g., the animals need to breathe, to

move about, to exercise, etc.-that can be satisfied simply by allowing these needs to de-velop freely?6 Eventually, however, nature imposes limits, and the animal confronts theyoke of necessity, under which every finite being must Repeated, this confrontationleads to adaptation, that harmony between needs and means, powers and desires, that isthe true strength, the true power, the condition of true ha p p i n e ~ s . ~ ~uch harmony, how-ever, assumes that the animal should not continue to develop endlessly and that he shouldstop or be stopped. The ideaof a limit, Durkheim added, of an impassable limit.99

This kind of harmony or equilibrium is achieved naturally in animals, and everywherethroughout the natural world, which suggests that it is a partof our destiny. But among hu-man beings, it is far more difficult to achieve, because we possess superfluous, potential

powers and, in particular, imagination.The world of reality has its bounds, Durkheimwrote in his lecture notes,the world of imagination is boundless. Imagination expandsour bounds of possibility, Rousseau observes,

and therefore stimulates and feeds our des ires by the hope of satisfying them. But theobject which seem ed within our grasp flies quicker than we can follow; when we thinkwe have grasped it, it transforms itself andis again far ahead of us. . . . Thus we ex-


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haust our strength , yet never reach our goal, and the nearer we are to pleasure, the fur-ther we are from happiness.

There is no longer anything which can satisfy us, D urkheim agreed. We can only invent.

But then, whatever we do, we are limited. The world does not yield to us. Hence a feeling ofpained surprise.02

Durkheim recognized that here he was dealing with a notion of freedom very differentfrom the libera l, individualistic conception advanced, for example, in John Stuart MillsOnLiberty 1859). Here, he stressed in his notes,w e are dealing . . . with a completely d -ferent sort of freedom.Freedom which is contained, which is limited. The notion of limita-tion is essential to it.Strict discipline.lo3And D urkheims notes a lso suggest that he graspedthe fundamental principle that underlay this notion of freedom:The basis of this idea, hestressed to his audience, is less a rational idea than an obscure feeling-i.e., the feeling that[wlhat is necessary has a reason. That which has a reason canno t be bad. Even the necessityof death. . . . Obscure and scarcely rational feeling of the rightness of what is neces-

So nature teaches that happinessis possible only through the recognition and accep-tance of what is necessary. What does this imply for educa tion? First, Durkheim em pha-sized, it means that we should not command the child to obey, for a commandis anexpression of w ill and, as such, is arbitrary and contingent. In addition, a com mand is typi-cally based upon opinion, which does not express things as they are. It dena tures them. It isan artificial thing. And least of all should we moralize, for m orality is discerned by reason ,and the child has no reason.1o5The child must never act from obedience, Rousseau ob-

serves, but from necessity. The very words obey and command will be excluded from hisvocabulary, still more so those of duty and obligation; but the words strength, necessity,weakness, and constra int must have a large place in it.lo6

Where, Durkheim then asks, are we to find the power to stop and restrain the child?Rousseaus answ er could hardly be more clear-i.e., inthings. Durkheims notes em phasizehere that things act rom necessity; impersonally.Do not obey any individual will. Thus itis from them alone that this early education must emanate. The powe rof things. Early inhis life, Rousseau insisted , the child shou ld find upon his proud neck, the heavy yoke w hichnature has imposed upon us, the heavy yoke of necessity, under which every finite beingmust bow. Let himfind this necessityin things, not in the caprices of man; let the curb beforce, not authority. o* Authority is thus excluded only from the childsearly education.Durkheim observes, for it w ill play a large part in later life; but when it does, it will have tobe m odelled on the action of things , that is to say on physical necessity. Necessity [is] theprototype of obligation.Iw

At this point in his lecture, Durkheim compared Rousseau with Spencer, noting thatboth re ject artificial punishment in favor of the childs learning through the natural conse-quences of his ac tions.0 But Spencers more utilitarian position looks to self-interest as thecriterion for the judgm ent of these consequences, and rejects all notions of constra int or dis-cipline. In Rousseau , by contrast, an active sentiment of self-discip line and im personal ne-cessity is always present. Rousseau is thus more appropriately compared to Kant-onwhom he was a great influence-and with Kants notion of the imperative, rational morallaw.

The child must thus live surrounded by things, Durkheim continued, and this is consis-tent with his nature. Act in such a way, Durkheim quoted Rousseau, that while he onlynotices external objects his ideas are confined to sensations; let him only see the physicalworld around him.112But this is not to say that the child should have no m aster. The teacher

S Z l I y. ~


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is to exert no direct action, but exercises considerable power by actingindirectly, behind andthrough things. The limits of the possible and the impossible are alike unknown to [thechild], Rousseau explained,so they can be extended or contracted around him at your will.

Without a murmur, he is restrained, urgedon, held back, by the hands of necessity alone; heis made adaptable and teachable by the mere force of things, without any chance for vice tospring up in him .113 et the child always think he is master while you are really master,Rousseau adds, for [tlhere is no subjectionso complete as tha t which preserves the form s offreedom; it is thus that the will itself is taken ca p t i ~ e . ~

This is what Rousseau meant, Durkheim explained to his audience, when he said thatearly education should be entirelynegative-i.e., it should exclude the teacher from doinganyth ing, except indirectly, and thus it should contain nopositive moral content, opinion, orinform ation. Before the age of reason, Rousseau em phasizes, it is im possib le to form anyidea of m oral being or social relations;so avoid, as far as may be, the use of words which

express these ideas, lest the child at an early age should attach wrong ideas to him, ideaswhich you cannot or will not destroy when he is 01der.~This early, negative educationby things, however, lays the foundation for later, moral educa tion. For it is from such a nega-tive education that the sentiment of absolute necessity derives. In later education, ofcourse , this sentiment will be modified, and take on a new form; but it must first exist if it isto later be transform ed. The action of things, as Durkheim made clear in an earlier draft ofthe lecture , has a positive effect. It pre-forms. It constitutes the principal part of educa tion.Why? Because man in the natural state is the basis of moral and social man, and becauseeverything depends on the founda tions. The one is modelled on the other.ll6

Rousseau recog-nized, of course, that things are instructive because they are striking, simply and force-fully perceived, provide a means of avoiding abstraction, are useful andcomplementary, and so on. But Rousseau also understood that they are instructive for adeeper reason-i.e., it is only from them that moral action can come. For the will iscapricious, and leads to immorality, while moral law is a wall of brass which stops man.The natural education of the child leads to the feeling of necessity, of theresistance othings which, superior to the will, prepares the child for later moral life. For Durkheim,therefore , the study of science-including social science- was morally edifying.l18

This, Durkheim insisted, isthe source of our sense of the

THE SANCTIFICATION OF APPETITE

The notes of Durkheims lectures on bothLe Contrat social and Emile thus bear elo-quent testimony to the depth and extent of his interest in Rousseaus work. RecallingDurkheims often hostile treatment of Rousseau as late asLes R&gles de la methode soci-ologique 1895), however, one is led to ask at what point Rousseaus ideas began to be as-similated into Durkheims own theoretical works. From the notes of the lec ture-course onLeContrat social-a course given twice before Durkheim left Bordeaux for Paris in1902-we know that Durkheim relied heavily on the1896 edition produced by Edmond Dreyfus-Brisac, then ed itor-in-chief of theRevue Intenationale de 1Enseignement.This, of course,suggests that the first place to look isLe Suicide 1 897).

In Le Suicide,Durkheim took up in a concrete and specific form those methodologi-cal problems he had already examined inLes R&gles.And among these questions was theprinciple upon which his entire sociolog ical method rested- i.e., the basic princip le thatso-cial facts must be studiedas things-i.e., as realities external to the individual. There is noprinciple for which we have received more criticism, Durkheim admitted, but none is m ore


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fundamental.9 Why was it so fundamental? It is interesting to note that Durkheims an-swer stressed the Boutrouxian rather than the Espinasian side of social realism. For sociol-ogy to be possible, Durkheim observed, it must above all have an object all its own. It musttake cognizance of a reality which is not in the domain of other sciences. But if no realityexists outside of individual consciousness, he added, it wholly lacks any material of itsown. In that case, the only possible subject of observation is the mental states of the individ-ual, since nothing else exists. That, however, is the field of psychology.20 The Espinasianattempt to provide sociology with a foundation in nature would thus founder on the bedrockof individual psychology, depriving sociology of the only object proper to it, leaving itwith only a borrowed existence. But from every page of Le Suicide, Durkheim an-nounced, there would emerge the contrary idea-i.e., the impression that the individual isdominated by a moral reality greater than himself namely, collective reality.121

The pages from which this idea emerged most powerfully, however, were those devoted

to the discussion of anomie. In Book Two, Chapter 5 , Durkheim turned his attention to thecurious fact that suicide rates increase, not just during economic crises, but more specificallyduring crises of prosperity-e.g., situations in which real income is increasing, or peopleare experiencing greater economic comfort, vitality, etc. Every disturbance of equilibrium,Durkheim observed, even though it achieves greater comfort and a heightening of generalvitality, is an impulse to voluntary death. Wherever serious readjustments take place in thesocial order, whether or not due to a sudden growth or to an unexpected catastrophe, men aremore inclined to self-destruction. . . . How can something considered generally to improveexistence, Durkheim openly wondered, serve to detach men from it?122

Unmistakably, Durkheims answer was drawn from the second Discours and Emile.No living being, Durkheim began, can be happy or even exist unless his needs are suffi-ciently proportioned to his means.23 n the case of animals, which-like Rousseaus nat-ural man-depend on purely material conditions, this equilibrium between needs and meansis established and maintained automatically, for the limits of animal instincts and environ-mental resources are fundamental to the constitution of the existence in question.124 n par-ticular, the animal lacks any powers of reflection that would lead it to imagine any ends otherthan those implicit in its physical nature. Most human needs, however, depend not on thebody, but on the imagination; and thus beyond the indispensable minimum which satisfiesnature when instinctive, a more awakened reflection suggests better conditions, seeminglydesirable ends craving f~lfi llment . ~~

Admitting these differences between human beings and lower animals, Durkheim asked,how can we determine the quantity of well-being, comfort, or luxury to be legitimatelycraved by a human being? Here Durkheim was careful to point out that there is nothing in theorganic or psychological constitution of human beings that might set natural limits to theseneeds and desires, an assertion that he supported by pointing to their constant increase, despitemore and more complete satisfaction, throughout human history, as well as their extreme vari-ability across socioeconomic classes. It is not human nature, Durkheim thus insisted, whichcan assign the variable limits necessary to our needs. They are thus unlimited so far as they de-pend on the individual alone. Irrespective of any external regulatory force, our capacity for

feeling is in itself an insatiable and bottomless abyss.126 And no less than Rousseau, Durkheimconsidered this capacity as a sign of human degeneration and a source of extreme human mis-ery: Unlimited desires are insatiable by definition, he observed, and insatiability is rightlyconsidered a sign of morbidity. Being unlimited, they constantly and infinitely surpass themeans at their command; they cannot be quenched. . . . To pursue a goal which is by defini-tion unattainable is to condemn oneself to a state of perpetual unhappiness.


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For happ iness to be achieved, therefore, the passions m ust be constrained; and becausethe individual has no interna l means of constrain t, the passions must be restricted by someforce external to the individual. Durkheim provided at least two arguments to the effect thatthis force cou ld only be society. First, because it is society that has aw akened our imagina-tions, and thus upset the natural balance between our needs and our means, it is only soci-ety-a collective , moral force-which can place limits and constra ints on our desires.Second, like Rousseau inLe Contrat social, Durkheim emphasized the peculiar form of le-gitimacy that belongs to society-i.e., society is the only moral power superio r to the indi-vidual, whose authority the individual accepts. Thus, society alone has the power necessaryto stipulate law and to set the point beyond which the passions must not go.28And whereRousseau had here pursued the analogy between civilized and natura l man, Durkheimemphasized the sim ilar analogy between the social and the physical or organic: A regulativeforce, Durkheim em phasized, must play the sam e role for moral needs which the organism

plays for physical needs.29As we have seen, Rousseau considered the general will an arbiter of class differences,

one which would destroy the artificial inequalities born of social degeneration, returning hu-man beings to a more natural, egalitarian and meritocratic, condition. Durkheims treatmentof inequality was more soc iologica l, and also more complacent. Society already silently esti-mates the reward appropriate-not @ace Rousseau) to individual talents and characters-but to particular occupations , functions, and social services . At every m oment of history,Durkheim insisted, there is a dim perception, in the m oral consciousness of soc ieties, of therespective value of d ifferent social services, the relative reward due to each, and the conse-quent degreeof comfort appropriate on the average to workers in each occupation. The dif-ferent functions are graded in public opinion and a certain coefficient of well-being assignedto each , according to its place in the hierarchy.. . . A genuine regimen exists, Durkheimconcluded, although not always legally formulated, which fixes with relative precision themaxim um degree of ease of living to which each social class may legitim ately aspire.30

Assum ing that the individual has a wholesom e moral constitution-i.e., respectsrules and is docile to collective authority-society thus sets an end and a goal to his pas-sions: Th is relative limitation and the moderation it involves, Durkheim explained ,

make men contented with their lot w hile stimulating them m oderately to im prove it;and this average contentment causes the feeling of calm , active happiness, the pleasure

in existing and living which characterizes health for socie ties as well as individuals.Each person is then at least, generally speaking, in harmony with his condition, and de-sires only what he may legitimately hope for as the norm al reward for his activity.I3

But again, legitimacy is important. Societal constraints must include rules that fix the waythat specific social positions are open and accessible to individuals, and the individualsthemselves must regard this d ifferential accessibility as fair and just. When [discipline] ismaintained only by custom and force, Durkheim emphasized, peace and harmony are illu-sory; the spirit of unrest and discontent are latent; appetites superficially restrained are readyto revolt.32But in practice, Durkheim in fact considered such conditions of unrest as abnor-mal and pathological, occurring only during those periods when society passes through somekind of crisis. In norm al conditions, Durkheim assured his readers, the collective order isregarded as just by the great majorityof persons.33Like Rousseau, Durkheim thus viewedsociety as re-imposing-albeit in a new form-those constra ints previously imposed on usby nature itself.

The relevance of this argument to anomic suicide, of course, was that Durkheim re-garded his own society as passing through just such an abnormal or pathological stage, a


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kind of legitimation crisis in which society is temporarily incapable of exercising this salu-tary, regulative function. Social mobility de-classifies and re-classifies individuals up-ward and downward in the social hierarchy, disrupting the balance of needs and means towhich human beings had become accustomed through habit and tradition:So long as thesocial forces thus freed have not regained equilibrium, Durkheim explained, their respec-tive values die unknown andso all regulation is lacking for a time. The limits are unknownbetween the possible and the impossible, what is just and what is unjust, legitimate claimsand hopes and those which are immoderate. Consequently, there is no restraint upon aspira-t i o n ~ . ~ ~ ~

In the introduction to his translation ofEmile, Allan Bloom emphasized the extent towhich its author sought to warn us of a certain low hum an type-i.e., thebourgeois-which Rousseau himself w as the first to isolate and name.135Who is the bourgeois? To de-scribe the inner workings of his soul, Bloom responds, he is the m an who, when dealing

with others, thinks onlyof himself, and on the other hand, in his understanding of himself,thinks only of others. Rousseau contrasts this debased form of the species with both thenatural man- whole, independent, concerned only with himself nd thecitizen hosevery being consists in his relation to his city, who understands his good to be identical withthe common good. The imagination of thebourgeois has expanded his needs beyond hismeans, rendering him both artificial and dependent on others, whom he seeks to explo it; andChristianity has convinced him tha t his own good should be distinguished from that of civilsociety, leaving him no reason to sacrifice private interest to public duty.136 ince Rousseau,Bloom insists, the overcoming of thebourgeois has been regarded as almost identical withthe realizationof true democracy, and the achievement of genuine p er ~o na lit y . ~ ~

Durkheims contempt for thebourgeois lthough framed in the vocabulary of modemsocial science-rivaled that of Rousseau. For in addition to the acute anomy produced byeconomic crises, Durkheim identified a more chronic anomy in the sphere of business andindustry, born of the collapse of feudalism and the rise of unregulated capitalism.Durkheims account of feudal institutions thus borders on nostalgia-e.g., by regulatingsalaries, prices, and production itself, the guilds indirectly fixed the average level of incom eon which needsare partially based by the very force of circumstances; the state restrainedthe scope of economic functions by its supremacy over them and by the relatively subordi-nate role it assigned them ; and religion

was felt alike by w orkers and masters, the poor and the rich. It consoled the former andtaught them contentment with their lot by informing them of the providential nature ofthe social order, that the share of each class w as assigned by God him self, and by hold-ing out the hope for just compensation in a world to come in return for the inequalitiesof this world. It governed the latter, recalling that worldly interests are not mans entirelot, that they must be subordinate to other and hi her interests, and that they shouldtherefore not be pursued without rule or measure.

This passage is particularly striking in its implication that, for Durkheim as for R ousseau,social realism provided a kind of secular theodicy, reconc iling individuals to their lots in life,through the belief in a higher power which was itself the very standardof social justice.

The nostalgic tone of his description of feudalism notwithstanding, Durkheim washardly calling for a return to the Middle Ages. On the contrary, his point was rather to em-phasize that these traditional sources of constraint-i.e., the guilds, the state, and thechurch-had declined, and that nothing had come to take their place. The appetites thus ex-cited by industrial capitalism, Durkheim argued, have become freed of any limiting author-ity. By sanctifying them,so to speak, this apotheosis of well-being has placed them above all

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348 ROBERT A W N JONES

human law. Their restraint seems like a sort of ~ a c ri le g e . ~ ~n the sphere of business andcommerce, therefore, anomy was chronic: From top to bottom, Durkheim observed,greed is aroused without knowing where to find ultimate foothold. Nothing can calm it,

since its goal is far beyond all it can attain40So constant is this condition, Durkheimadded, that society has come to view it as normal, and even to elevate it into an ethical andquasireligious principle. It is everlastingly repeated, he reminded his readers, that it ismans nature to be eternally dissatisfied, constan tly to advance, without relief or rest, towardan indefinite goal. The longing for infinity is daily represented as a mark of moral distinc-tion, whereas it can only appear within unregulated consciences which elevate to a rule thelack of rule from which they suffer. The doctrine of the most ruthless and swift progress,Durkheim concluded, has becom e an article of faith.14

CONCLUSION:HREEQUESTIONS

This revulsion for thebourgeois helps to explain Durkheims interest in the secondDis-cours and Emile, just as Durkheims notion of society as the sole source of legitimate, im-personal constraint-also shared with Rousseau-accounts for muchof the content of hislectures onDu Contrat social. These interests, as we have seen, took hold in 1896 and after,as Durkheim prepared his lectureson Du Contrat social and developed his famous theory ofanomic suicide.

But hadnt Durkheim written about anom ie several years before- specifically, in thethird and final bookof De la Division du travail social, where he took up the anomic divi-sion of labor as one of its three pathological forms? Of course he had; but in that earlierwork, anomie refers, notto an imbalance between needs and means, but to a more generallack of m utual adjustment among the partsof the social organism, a notion Durkheim at-tributed specifically to Comte and to Espinas.

But this in turn raises a second question: What happened between1893 and 1897 thatled Durkheim to this deeper, stronger reading of Rousseau? The answer to the second ques-tion emphasizes the distinction between Espinasian and Boutrouxian elements withinDurkheims social realism. For where Durkheim wished to emphasize socialrealism,Rousseaus language was ofno use whatever; but where Durkheim wanted to emphasizeso-cial realism, Rousseau provided powerful conceptual tools.

But this, in turn, raises still a third question : Why, between1893 and 1897, was it moreimportant to speak eloquently aboutsocial realism than about socialrealism? I strongly sus-pect that the answerto this third question lies in the fact that it was during this period thatDurkheim became involved in the most serious intellectual deba te of his career- with theFrench social psychologist and criminologist Gabriel Tarde. For the debate w ith Tarde hadlittle to do w ith the Espinasian notion that social phenomena w ere real things that could bestudied scientifically-a point to which Tarde,so far as I can tell, raised few objections.On the con trary, the deba te had everything to do with the B outrouxian observation thatso-cial facts were thingssui generis, irreducible to psychological facts (e.g., imitation) -a pro-posal that Tarde found incom prehensible.

NOTES

Prepared for a session titled: Durkheimian Sociology in Philosophical Context. Annual Meeting ofthe Society forthe History of the Philosophy of Science. Roanoke, Virginia, April19, 1996.

I am grateful to Neil G ross, a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, for uncovering these notes andbringing these passages to my attention.

1.


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2. Durkheim, 1978b: 97.3. See Rousseau, 1968: 49.4. Durkheim, 1978b: 107.5. Durkheim, 1978b: 111.

6. Durkheim, 1886: 78-9. My translation.7. Durkheim, 1887a: 337-38. My translation.8. Durkheim, 1887b: 37. My translation.9. Durkheim, 1887b: 45. My translation.

10. Durkheim, 1978a: 44.11. Durkheim, 1978a: 45.12. Durkheim, 1978a: 58.13. Durkheim, 1973: 39.14. Durkheim, 1984: 150.15. Durkheim, 1984: 331-32.

16. Durkheim, 1982: 142.17. Derathi, 1590: 338; cited in Durkheim, 1960: 70.18. Wolin, 1960: 372.19. Apparently because the course on Le Contrat social was given in Bordeaux, Henri Peyre (1960: xv) con-

cludes that the lectures must have been given before 1901. Certain of the passages of Le Contrat social cited byDurkheim (1960: 82) make it clear that he was using the 1896 edition edited by Edmond Dreyfus-Brisac.

20.21. Durkheim, 1960: 66.22.

Durkheim, cited in an introductory note by Lion, in 1979: 162.

Durkheim, 1960: 68. Durkheims reference here is to the Discours sur lorigine de linigalitec All thesephilosophers, in short, constantly talking of need, greed, oppression, desires, and pride have imported into the stateof nature ideas they had taken from society. They talk of savage man and they depict civilized man (Rousseau,1994: 24).23. Durkheim, 1960: 69.24. Durkheim, 1960: 69.25.

26.

Every animal has ideas, Rousseau argued, because it has senses, and even combines these ideas up to acertain point; in this respect man differs from the beast only in degree (1994: 33).

Etienne Bonnot, abbC de Condillac (1715-80), French philosopher, author of an Essai sur lorigine des con-naissances hurnaines (1746). Rousseau also discussed Condillacs ideas about linguistic evolution in his Essai SUYlorigin es langues, composed in the 1750s but published posthumously in 1781.

Durkheim, 1974: 55. Rousseau: The savage man, consigned by nature to instinct alone . . . begins withpurely animal functions; his earliest state will be perception and feeling, experiences shared by every other animal.Willing and unwilling, desiring and fearing, will be his souls first and just about only operations until new circum-stances cause it to undergo new developments (1994: 34).

Durkheim, 1960: 70. Rousseau: His imagination portrays nothing; his heart yearns for nothing; his modestneeds are easily within reach; and he is so far from having sufficient knowledge to wish to acquire even more thathe can have neither foresight nor curiosity (1994: 35).

27.

28.

29. Durkheim, 1960: 71.30. In such condition, Hobbes observed, there is no place for industry, because the fruit thereof is uncertain:

and consequently no culture of the earth: no navigation nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; nocommodious building; no instruments of moving and removing such things as require much force; no knowledge ofthe face of the earth, no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; and, which is worst of all, continual fear anddanger of violent dea th and the life of man solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short (1958: 107).

31. Durkheim, 1960: 71. Rousseau: Man is weak when he is dependent, and becomes emancipated before he isrobust. Hobbes did not see that the same cause preventing savages from using their reason (as our jurists claim) alsoprevents them from abusing their faculties (as Hobbes himself claims), so that it could be said that savages are not

wicked precisely because they do not know what it is to be good, for it is neither the development of knowledge northe restraint of law, but the calm of the passions, and ignorance of vice that keeps them from doing wrong (1994:45).

32. Durkheim, 19 60 71 -2. Rousseau: Without speaking of the tenderness of mothers for their young and thedangers they brave in order to protect them, we observe every day the aversion of horses to trampling any livingbody underfoot; an animal never passes a dead creature from its own species without uneasiness; there are evensome that give their dead a sort of burial; and the sorrowful lowing of cattle entering a slaughterhouse bespeakstheir feelings about the horrible spectacle facing them (1994: 45-6).


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33. Rousseau: How are we moved to pity? By going out of ourselves, by identifying ourselves with the suf-ferer. . . . Think of the acquired knowledge that such outgoing implies How shall I imagine sufferings of which Ihave no idea? How shall I suffer at seeing another suffer . . . if I do not know what he and I have in common? Aman who has never reflected can be neither kind nor compassionate. For a slightly different translation of the samepassage, see Rousseau, 1966: 32.

Durkheim, 1960 72-3. This scholarly quibble is interesting, for it reveals how well Durkheim knewRousseaus entire oeuvre,not to mention its secondary interpretations.

He is not hostile to society, Durkheim cites Rousseaus second Discours, but has no inclination toward it.He has within him the seeds which, if nurtured, will develop into social virtues, social inclinations, but they are onlypotentialities (Durkheim, 1960: 74). Durkheim indicates that this passage is near the end of Part I, but I cant findit in my edition.

36. Durkheim, 1960 75. Rousseau: . . . because in the state of nature men have no kind of moral relationshipsto each other, nor any recognized duties, they would be neither good nor evil, and could have neither vices norvirtues (1994: 43). But Durkheim ignores the phrase that precedes this sentence: At first glance, it would seemthat . . . as well as the rest of the paragraph, in which Rousseau suggests that his readers would do well to suspend judgement on this situation and guard against our own biases until we have observed, with the scales of impar-tiality in our hands, more virtues than vices among civilized men . . . (1994: 44).

34.

35.

37. Rousseau, 1994: 43.38. Durkheim, 1960: 75.39. Cited in Durkheim, 1960: 77. For a slightly different translation of the same passage, see Rousseau, 1966:

40. Durkheim, 1960 78-9. Durkheims account roughly corresponds to Rousseau, 1994: 55-69; 1966: 31-46.41. Again, see Durkheim, 1886: 78-9. My translation.42. Durkheim, 1960: 81. Although the formula seems self-contradictory, Durkheim admitted, it expresses

43. Cited in Durkheim, 1960 81. For a slightly different translation of the same passage, see Rousseau, 1994:

44. From the Dreyfus-Brisac edition (1896: 248-9). cited in Durkheim, 1960: 82.45. Durkheim, 1960: 82.46. Durkheim, 1960: 83.47. Here Durkheim cites Rousseaus Discours sur IEconomie politique (1758).48. Durkheim, 1960: 83-4. Durkheim notes that Rousseau was unaware that there are natural organisms whose

parts have this same individuality. The reference here is to a fragment from Distinction fondurnentale (pp. 308and 310). Ive been unable to identify any work written by Rousseau that possesses this title.

38.

Rousseaus thinking. Let us try to understand it.

53.

49. Rousseau, 1968: 50.50. Durkheim, 1960: 84.5 1. Durkheim, 1960 85.52. Durkheim, 1960: 85.53. Durkheim, 1960: 85. More literally, Durkheim refers to the contrary principle (which might well be called

the socialist principle if the word did not have a different meaning in the language of political parties), which is atthe base of his organic conception of society.

54. Durkheim, 1960: 86.55. Durkheim, 1960: 86. The reference here is to the last paragraph of the second Discours: I have endeavoured

to set out the origin and progression of inequality, the establishment and abuse of political societies, in so far asthese things can be deduced from the nature of man by the light of reason alone, independently of the sacred dog-mas that give sovereign authority the sanction of divine right. It follows from this description that inequality, beingalmost non-existent in the state of nature, derives its strength and growth from the development of our faculties andthe progress of the human mind, and eventually becomes stable and legitimate through the institution of propertyand laws. It also follows that moral inequality, authorized by positive law alone, is contrary to natural right when-ever it is not matched with physical inequality-a distinction that adequately determines what we should think ofthe form of inequality that prevails among all civilized peoples-for it is manifestly contrary to the law of nature,

however it is defined, that a child should rule over an old man, that an idiot should guide a wise man, and that ahandful of men should gorge themselves with superfluities while the starving multitude goes in want of necessities(1994: 84-5).

56. Durkheim, 1960: 87-88.57. Rousseau, 1979: 85.58. Rousseau, 1994: 33-4. The editor of the second Discours notes that perfectibility was a neologism attrib-

uted to Turgot, which Rousseau also used in the sense of an open-ended process of improvement, without any pre-determined goal or achieved perfection.


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59. Durkheim, 1960: 90. Se e above, Durkheim,1960: 75; and Rousseau, 1994: 43.60. Cited in Durkheim, 1960: 92. For a slightly different translation, se e Rousseau,1968: 59-60.61. Durkheim, 1960: 92.62. See Rousseau, 1979: 39.

63. Durkheim, 1960: 93.64. Durkheim, 1960: 94. For a slightly different translation of the passage inEmile cited by Durkheim, see

65. Durkheim, 1960 94-5.66. Durkheim, 1960 95-6.67.68.

Rousseau, 1979: 85.

See above, and Durkheim,1960: 82.Hugo G rotius (Huig de Groot)(1583-1645), Dutch jurist, philosopher and man of letters.

69.70.71.72.73.74.75.76.

Rousseaus treatment of Groti us is found in BookI, Chapter 4 of Le Contrat social (1968: 53-8).Durkheim, 1960: 97-8. Rousseau, 1968: 58.Rousseau, 1968: 59.Cited in Durkheim, 1960: 98. For a slightly different translation, see Rousseau,1968: 60.Durkheim, 1960: 99. Emp hasis added.Paul Janet (1823-99), French spiritualist philosopher and d isciple of Cousin.Durkheim, 1960: 100.Durkheim 1960: 103. Emph asis added.

77. Durkheim, 1960: 105. See Rousseau, 1968: 72-8.78. Durkheim, 1960: 106. See Rousseau, 1968: 63.79. Durkheim, 1960: 107-8. See , for example, Rousseau,1968: 73.80. Durkheim, 1960: 108.81. Durkheim, 1960: 109.82. Durkheirn, 1960: 109- 10. Here the English translation of Durkheims text refers toLe Contrat social, Book

11, Chapter 2. This is clearly a m istake. The argument is actually developed in Book11 Chapter 12 (Rousseau, 1968:98- 100). See also Book I, Chapter 5 (Rousseau, 1968: 58).

Durkheim, 1960: 112. Here Durkheim was alm ost certainly thinking o fAlfr ed Fouillke(1832- 1912), whosenotion of id6e:forcesowed much to Rousseau. See Durkheim,1885.

83.

84. Durkheim, 1960 112.85. Durkheim, 1960: 135.86. Durkheim, 1960: 137-8.87. Durkheim, 1979: 162. Unfortunately, the text of the lecture-noteson bmile is not nearly so complete and pol-

ished as that on Le Contrat social. It is rather an outline of eachof the four lectures, combined with passages takenfrom Emile itself.

88. Durkheim, 1979: 164. Emphasis in original.89. Rousseau, 1911: 9.90. Durkheim,1979: 166.91. Rousseau, 1911: 5. Durkheim, 1979: 166.92. Rousseau, 1911: 7. Durkheim, 1979: 167.93. Rousseau, 191 1: 44. Durkheim, 1979: 167-8. The emphasis here is Durkheims.94. Rousseau, 1911: 44. Durkheim, 1979: 168.95. Durkheim,1979: 170. Emphasis in original.96. This , Durkheim reminds his audience, is the basis of Rousseaus insistence that the infant notbe wrapped in

97. Rousseau, 1911: 55. Durkheim, 1979: 171.98. Durkheim, 1979: 172. This explains what Rousseau meant earlier when he spoke of the child asweak: The

term weak implies a relation, he explains, a relation of the creature to whom it is applied. An insect or awormwhose strength exceeds its needs is strong; an elephant, a lion, a conqueror, a hero, a god himself, whose needs ex -ceed his strength is weak. . . . When man is content to be himself he is strong indeed; when he strives to be morethan man he is weak indeed (Rousseau,191 1: 45).

100. Durkheim, 1979: 172. Emphasis in original. Rousseau,1911: 45.101. Rousseau, 1911: 44. Durkheim, 1979: 173.102. Durkheim, 1979: 173.

swaddling clothes, tha t its movements not be restricted in any way.

99. Durkheim, 1979: 172.


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103. Durkheim, 1979: 174. Emphasis in original.104. Durkheim, 1979: 174. Emphasis in original. See Rousseau,1911: 131,133.105. Durkheim, 1979: 175. Rousseau: Reason alone teachesus to know good and evil. Therefore conscience,which makes us love the one and hate the other, though it is independent of reason, cannot develop without it. Be-

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