The
Debate That Changed the West: Grotius versus Althusius, by Ruben Alvarado
One can point to many inflection points in the history of
the west and western tradition: the Resurrection of Christ, the fall of Rome,
the establishment of Christianity and Christendom, the Battle of Tours, the
Renaissance, the Reformation, the Battle of Vienna, the Enlightenment, and,
finally, the Great War. Several decades
after the Reformation we find this debate.
Alvarado examines this debate between Grotius and Althusius
– or, more precisely, between their views on political order. I have examined Althusius in great
detail in the past, being introduced to him through Gerard
Casey’s work, where he also examined Grotius.
A simple view of this debate: Grotius thought in terms of
international governance and individualism; Althusius thought in terms of
decentralized and local governance; he attempted to mimic the decentralization
of medieval Europe, however while lacking a very important factor: the Church
that could stand in the face of the king.
In other words, I think the debate had no chance of being given a fair
hearing or concluding with any other outcome.
From the Preface:
That the modern world is in a state
of crisis is no secret. What has been building up for some time is now breaking
out into the open: the utter untenability of a social order based on the
primacy of the individual as the absolute standard and justification for
authority, law, and order.
I read such words and the libertarian in me cringes – but
not nearly as much as I would have cringed ten years ago. I would have cringed reflexively, brought on
by any challenge to the (political) primacy of the individual. Yet today I can look around and see the
damage this philosophy has brought to liberty.
It isn’t that I have done away with the individual; it is just that this
idea is too shallow for liberty to survive in its wake.
As Alvarado notes, this has brought politics into every nook
and cranny of life, as there is no room for institutions with the authority to
intermediate between the individual and the state. Few have pointed to or warned of this danger,
but Alvarado notes Robert
Nisbet who wrote of it more than 60 years ago. Nisbet, like Althusius, saw the necessity of
building from the bottom up such intermediating institutions as necessary to
give man room and cover for his liberty.
Alvarado frames the debate that occurred four centuries ago:
For at the crossroads of Western
civilization, at around the turn of the 17th century, an eventful and fateful
choice was made, to go down the path of rationalist individualism instead of
the path of communitarian associationalism. The two representatives of these
opposing approaches to social order were Hugo Grotius and Johannes Althusius.
Alvarado offers an essay as introduction to the book: he
describes Constantinople in 1453, finally succumbing to the Muslim Ottoman
forces.
Western civilization today appears
to be in the same position as Constantinople was in 1453: hunkered down behind
once-impregnable walls, the breach of which is only a matter of time.
It is depressing to read, but this is the situation
today. Unfortunately, today the calamity
is entirely self-inflicted – the west is consuming and willingly destroying
itself. In this, Alvarado finds it worthwhile
to examine the crossroads and path taken at this similar time in the past – occurring
in the Dutch Republic during its struggle to free itself from the Spanish
Monarchy. Two men, drawing on similar
sources and with similar backgrounds, yet developing significantly differing
political concepts.
Many new technologies were brought into play, technologies
that would also shape the debate: the printing press (a driving factor in the
Renaissance and Reformation), gunpowder (leveling the playing field between
noble and peasant; changing the dynamic for walled cities), new techniques for silver
mining and production (making the New World especially valuable).
In the middle of this were the Ottomans, threatening Europe
and the Mediterranean in a manner unseen since the forces of Islam several
hundred years earlier. This was a
driving factor in Portugal and Spain looking for alternative routes to the East
– leading to circumnavigation of the globe.
Machiavelli is introduced – maligned by many, yet when taken in the
context of the aftermath of the defeat of his beloved Florentine republic
becomes, perhaps, a more sympathetic character.
The question at hand – in this tremendous confluence of
religious, political, technological, and military upheaval: what of the jus gentium, “law of nations”?
What was involved was a common
baseline understanding of sovereignty, extending in both directions – outward
toward other nations, and inward, in terms of the structure of authority and
constitutionalism.
It would be Spain where this question would first be dealt
with, appropriate as Spain sat at the heart of many of these upheavals: the
conflicts on the Italian peninsula, a major bulwark against the Ottomans, ruling
over the North Countries – soon enough to be embroiled in a Catholic–Calvinist
civil war, and a major power in conquering and settling the New World. Each of these issues presented new challenges
regarding this “law of nations” – some completely unknown even a few decades
earlier.
The pioneer in this regard was
Francisco de Vitoria, holder of the first chair of theology at the University
of Salamanca, and founder of what has gone down in history as the School of
Salamanca.