(BARTELSON) A Genealogy of Sovereignty

The concept of sovereignty is central to international relations theory
and theories of state formation, and provides the foundation of the

conventional separation of modern politics into domestic and inter-
national spheres. In this book Jens Bartelson provides a critical
analysis and conceptual history of sovereignty, dealing with this
separation as reflected in philosophical and political texts during
three periods: the Renaissance, the Classical Age, and Modernity. He
argues that the concept of sovereignty and its place within political
discourse are conditioned by philosophical and historiographical
discontinuities between the periods, and that sovereignty should be
regarded as a concept contingent upon, rather than fundamental to,
political science and its history.
CAMBRIDGE STUDIES IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS: 39
A genealogy of sovereignty
Editorial Board
Steve Smith (Managing editor)
Ken Booth Christopher Brown Ian Clark
Robert Cox Anne Deighton Jean Elshtain
Fred Halliday Christopher Hill Richard Little
R. B. J. Walker
International Political Economy

Roger Tooze Craig N. Murphy
Cambridge Studies in International Relations is a joint initiative of

Cambridge University Press and the British International Studies
Association (BISA). The series will include a wide range of material,
from undergraduate textbooks and surveys to research-based mono-
graphs and collaborative volumes. The aim of the series is to publish
the best new scholarship in International Studies from Europe, North
America and the rest of the world.
CAMBRIDGE STUDIES IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS
39 Jens Bartelson
38 Mark Rupert
Producing hegemony
The politics of mass production and American global power
37 Cynthia Weber
Simulating sovereignty
Intervention, the state and symbolic exchange
36 Gary Goertz
Contexts of international politics
35 James L. Richardson
Crisis diplomacy
The Great Powers since the mid-nineteenth century
34 Bradley S. Klein
Strategic studies and world order
The global politics of deterrence
33 T.V. Paul
Asymmetric conflicts: war initiation by weaker powers
32 Christine Sylvester
Feminist theory and international relations in a postmodern era
31 Peter ]. Schraeder
US foreign policy toward Africa
Incrementalism, crisis and change
30 Graham Spinardi
From Polaris to Trident: The development of US Fleet Ballistic
Missile technology
29 David A. Welch
Justice and the genesis of war
28 Russell J. Leng
Interstate crisis behavior, 1816-1980: realism versus reciprocity
27 John A. Vasquez
The war puzzle
Series list continues after index.
Jens Bartelson
University of Stockholm
CAMBRIDGE
UNIVERSITY PRESS
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Cambridge University Press 1995
First published 1995

Reprinted 1996
A cataloguerecordfor this bookis availablefrom the BritishLibrary
Libraryof Congresscataloguingin publicationdata

Bartelson, Jens.
A genealogy of sovereignty/ Jens Bartelson.
p. cm. - (Cambridge studies in international relations: 39)
ISBN O521 47308 X (hardback). - ISBN O521 47888 X (pbk.)
1. Sovereignty. I. Title. II. Series.
JC327.B245 1995
320.1\5 - dc20 94-30053 CIP
ISBN O521 47308 X hardback

ISBN O521 47888 X paperback
Transferred to digital printing 200 I
CE
Contents
Preface page ix
1 Introduction: sovereignty and fire 1

2 The problem: deconstructing sovereignty 12
3 Beyond subject and structure: towards a genealogy 53
of sovereignty
4 Inventing outsides: proto-sovereignty, exempla and 88
the general theory of the state in the Renaissance
5 How policy became foreign: sovereignty, mathesis 137
and interest in the Classical Age
6 Reorganizing reality: sovereignty, modernity and the 186
international
7 Conclusion: the end of sovereignty? 237
Notes 249
Bibliography 293
Index 314
vu
Preface
This book is a treatise on political knowledge. It is a book about the

concept of sovereignty and its relationship to truth, and tries to
chronicle some of the major changes this relationship has undergone
from the Renaissance to the present.
If this book proves to be hard reading, it is partly because the
nature of its subject matter made it hard to write. In order to cover a
large territory without merely iterating commonplaces, I had to
phrase my questions in an abstract idiom. In order to answer these
questions without merely reflecting present prejudices, I had to cir-
cumvent the trappings of an old vocabulary. In order to circumvent
these trappings without becoming utterly incomprehensible, I had to
impute new meaning to old terms and use new terms to convey old
meanings.
This book nourishes itself on the possibility of such recontextuali-
zation and reinterpretation of terms and concepts, and implicitly
argues that this is what political philosophy is all about. This insight is
far from original, nor are many of the philosophical arguments pre-
sented in this book; its contribution is intended to be more specific, and
concerns the consequences of such assumptions for the concept of
sovereignty and its history.
As such, this book has grown out of the suspicion that the relation-
ship between questions of authority and questions of truth are more
closely interlinked than modern political philosophy and modern
history of political ideas have been capable or willing to admit, and
that the very divide within modern political science between political
questions and the apolitical ones itself is the result of a specific politics
of truth. In short, this book seeks to amend this situation by, as it were,
rqyhilosophizing politics and rqioliticizing philosophy.
ix
Preface
Some people unintentionally encouraged me to pursue this sus-
picion. Others intentionally encouraged me to pursue my work
regardless of my suspicions (or theirs). Kjell Goldmann, who has had
the dubious pleasure of supervising my work, has done so with
remarkable patience and critical skill. Erik Ringmar, with whom dia-
logue has been precious throughout, has contributed generously with
his time and erudition in all phases of my work. Tomas Tranaeus has
bothered to read drafts of most chapters with an eye to style; Donald
Lavery read all of them with meticulous attention to grammar. Bo
Lindensjo, Rune Premfors, Cecilia Sjoholm, Erik Tangerstad and Bjorn
Wittrock all intervened at the final stage of my work and contributed
with many helpful suggestions.
Introduction:
Sovereignty and fire
What is sovereignty? If there are questions political science ought to be

able to answer, this is certainly one. Yet modern political science often
testifies to its own inability when it tries to come to terms with the
concept and reality of sovereignty; it is as if we cannot do to our
contemporaneity what Bodin, Hobbes and Rousseau did to theirs.
Thus posed, the question of sovereignty can be brushed aside as
irrelevant to modern political science. One could argue that the disci-
pline has outgrown the need to wrestle with general concepts, and
should devote itself exclusively to their concrete instantiations in
empirical reality. Today, when empirical reality furnishes us with a
great many sovereignty struggles, we should step down from the ivory
tower and concentrate on less abstract problems, perhaps to the
benefit of their very concrete victims.
Still, the general question of sovereignty is likely to enter through
the back door. With some simplification, one could say that the ques-
tion of sovereignty is to political science what the question of sub-
stance is to philosophy; a question tacitly implied in the very practice
of questioning. However much we want to get down to earth, few
would deny that modern political reality has the state as one of its
constituent parts, however intangible and porous it seems at closer
inspection, whether this closer inspection purports to deal with ques-
tions about 'autonomy', 'integration', 'democracy', or 'justice'.
Typically, when the political scientist stumbles upon the state as a
unit of analysis, and is forced to define it as an object of investigation,
he will once again become entangled in a discourse on sovereignty as
its defining property; for what makes a state a state? Simply put, and as
I hope to make clear, to the extent that modern political science deals
with political phenomena that are conditioned by the presence of
states, it will necessarily presuppose some answer to the question of

sovereignty in its attempt to classify and investigate those phenomena.
Thus, our will to political knowledge is intertwined with the notion of
sovereignty right from the start.
Now this book is not an attempt to answer the question of what
sovereignty is; rather, it is a study of what happens today as well as
what has happened in the past when others have tried to answer this
essentially essentialist question. It is an attempt to investigate the
relationship between sovereignty and truth. Doing this, the overall
objective of this study is to provide a conceptual history of sovereignty
in its relationship to the conditions of knowledge. Given the nature of
the subject matter, what would such a history look like?
As I will argue throughout this book, a history of basic political
concepts such as sovereignty necessitates a change in methodological
orientation from what is established practice within the study of
political ideas. Contrary to the convictions of the conceptual analyst, I
will insist that the relationship between the very term sovereignty, the
concept of sovereignty and the reality of sovereignty is historically
open, contingent and unstable. Contrary to the convictions of the
contextualist historian of political thought, I will insist that the history
of sovereignty is more a matter of swift and partly covert epistemic
discontinuity than of a ceaseless battle of overt opinions taking place
within delimited and successive contexts. Nevertheless, and now con-
trary to the convictions of the conceptual historian, I will insist that the
history of sovereignty ought to be studied not in isolation or within a
narrow temporal frame of inferential and rhetorical connections, but
in terms of its multiple relations with other concepts within larger
discursive wholes, these not being necessarily confined to political
ones. Finally, contrary to the convictions of the structuralist historian
of ideas, I will, however, insist that these conceptual systems or dis-
courses are open-ended and subject to constant modification by means
of rhetoric - a battle over truth which moves discourse forward in
unexpected directions more by its unintended consequences than by
its intended ones.
But why embark upon such a study, which is most likely to be both
abstract and laborious? Let us for a moment dwell upon the relation-
ship between sovereignty and knowledge; is not the connection
between them already fairly clear to the political scientist? Sover-
eignty, either as a general concept or as a property of individual states,
is already a given to experience, semantically or empirically. All that
needs to be done is to disentangle the concept from the ambiguities of

its everyday use, and give it a sufficiently precise operational defi-
nition as a defining characteristic of the modern state. If this were
done, sovereignty would be a ready-made object of inquiry for poli-
tical science, and all further questions of sovereignty would then be
empirical ones; under what conditions are we entitled to speak of a
state as being sovereign? Exactly where in this or that particular state is
sovereignty located?
To this it is of course possible to reply that sovereignty ultimately is
something man-made, and also deserves to be studied as such in its
reflexive relationship to knowledge and political reality. Not only is
hermeneutics able to mark out a territory of his own: it is likewise
possible to reply critically that this fight against ambiguity itself is a
peculiarity of the sovereign state, and that empiricism is integral to this
strategy.1 But let us for a brief moment stay empiricist, and suppose
that sovereignty, like a natural phenomenon, is, at least potentially, a
given to experience as an objective reality, and that it is open to
investigation as such.
In speaking of something as an object, we are generally inclined to
think that we are objective about it, but because we chose it in the
first place, there is a possibility that the object of our choice reveals
more about us than we do about it. Take fire: since prehistory, fire has
been available to human experience as a datum. Still, despite the
apparent uniformity of the objective phenomenon of fire, it is close to
impossible to discern a corresponding uniformity in the accounts of
fire since antiquity. From ancient teachings on the elements, through
medieval alchemy to early-modern phlogiston theory, fire is an object
of knowledge, yet the accounts of it vary to the point of incommen-
surability. More puzzling, when the question of fire is raised today,
one is likely to discover that fire no longer is a reality for science;
there is a theory of combustion, but whenever the original question is
posed, answers are likely to repeat the most ancient and most fanciful
explanations. In modern textbooks in physics, it is as if fire did not
exist.2
Yet if fire does not exist, we still speak and act as if it did. The same
goes for sovereignty. For all that we know, most human societies have
confronted problems of power and authority, and where they should
be located. Yet recipes differ from one another, in form and content as
well as through space and time; within the regional context of Euro-
pean political thought, we can discern how the source and locus of
authority is distributed downwards in a slow chronological series,

ranging from God to king, and then from king to people. Yet our
textbooks in political science have become increasingly silent on the
topic of sovereignty; since the latest upsurge in the decades immedi-
ately before and after the Second World War, the question of sover-
eignty is seldom raised, and when it occasionally has been, answers
tend uncritically to repeat premodern or early-modern formulae, or to
sociologize it away as reminiscent of a bygone age.
So perhaps we should do to sovereignty what Gaston Bachelard, a
physicist who turned to literary criticism, did to fire; we should avoid
the direct question of what sovereignty is, and instead ask how it has
been spoken of and known throughout a period of time, and connect
the answer to this question with the question of why it seems so
difficult to speak of and to know sovereignty today. Posed in this way,
the question of sovereignty instead becomes a question of the
unthought foundations of our political knowledge and how they
relate to the concept of sovereignty, when stripped of all predeter-
mined content and opened to definitional change over time.3
This strategy provokes yet another why. Who is going to benefit
from such an inquiry? Certainly not our politicians; the outcome will
surely not add to the rhetorical resources of someone involved in a
struggle over sovereignty, who instead risks being exposed to laugh-
ter. Perhaps the mainstream political scientist; hopefully the outcome
will prove edifying to him. But also perhaps a bit disturbing. For every
inquiry must depart from somewhere, from a point that is self-evident
or at least held to be unproblematic, and since the present inquiry has
for its object precisely such points of agreement, it will consequently
set these points in motion, expose them to contingency, and deprive
them of their unproblematic status. As such, it is likely to have an effect
on the mainstream political scientist which is analogous to the effects
of his inquiry upon the ideological protagonist.
If the perspective of the mainstream political scientist is the one of a
detached spectator who tries to understand clashes between different
versions of the political good, the perspective of this book is the one of
the detached spectator who tries to understand clashes between differ-
ent versions of political truth. Thus, if it is accepted as true that every
inquiry must start from somewhere, from where do you start if the
object of inquiry is starting points? How can one claim to be a detached
spectator, if the position of the detached spectator itself is held to be
contingent, quite Protestant and sometimes rather illusionary? Is it
possible to study truth-games without becoming involved in them or
being altogether arbitrary in relation to them?
As we shall see in chapter 3, my response to these problems is that of
a spectator who not only tries to be detached from his subject matter,
but also incredulous towards it by stripping it of some of its pretence. By
approaching political science and history as modes of writing rather
than as modes of being, we can situate ourselves as detached specta-
tors within history, and can avoid making our detachment dependent
on something outside it. As I shall argue, this is possible by starting out
from a problematicization of what appears as evident in the present.
Doing this, we can disclaim the Platonic concept of truth, and instead
look into the effective formation of truths, including the truth of our
own story, which would then be arbitrary only to the extent that it is
undetermined, and false only to the extent that it claims to be itself
timeless, and thus self-refuting.4
As a consequence, perhaps the addressees who will reap most
benefit from this study are the political philosopher and the historian
of political ideas, and among them especially the ones who deal with
thought on international relations. As we shall see in chapter 2, we
recently have witnessed a renewed interest in the concept of sover-
eignty among a tiny fraction of scholars devoted to the philosophy of
international relations. The upshot of this reappropriation of the
concept of sovereignty has been largely critical, and, to my knowledge,
no systematic study of sovereignty has yet been undertaken within
this field. To the extent that political philosophy merits the label of a
science, this fact furnishes another rationale for studying sovereignty.
There are few up-to-date studies on sovereignty, and those which do
exist tend to take for granted precisely that which is profoundly
problematic about sovereignty, or to reconfirm those very distinctions
and concepts they set out to analyse.5
Simply stated, the main thesis of this book is that sovereignty and
knowledge implicate each other logically and produce each other
historically. This thesis is based on the more general assumption that
knowledge is political, and politics is based on knowledge. If this thesis
is circular, it remains for me to explicate this circularity as a healthy
one, which better helps us to understand both sovereignty and know-
ledge as well as their actual historical relationships. Since this book is
devoted to such an explication, a few formal and introductory remarks
will suffice here.
First, this circle is not closed at the level of definition, since both
concepts are held open as to their definitional content, which must

remain a historical question. Second, this circle is not closed logically,
as in a tautology, since this would indicate a stable inferential connec-
tion between concepts, and leave nothing for us to investigate. Third,
this circle is not closed from a position outside it, from which we safely
could observe the interplay between ready-made and well-defined
concepts. If the thesis displays circularity, it is because this circularity is
repeated in the topic under investigation as well as in the structure of
the study itself. If history is a mode of writing rather than a mode of
being, a study of history as narrative must itself be a historical narra-
tive, and follow a narrative course which to an extent reflects the
structure of the investigated narratives.6
Let us now turn to the a priori warrant of the thesis. What makes
knowledge political, and what makes politics knowable? Formally, any
decision about what is political and what is not political is in itself a
political decision.7 As such, any decision upon the political is a decision
based on knowledge, since it either must be taken within a specific
body of knowledge or must be legitimized from a vantage point which
renders the distinction itself clear-cut or fruitful.
If knowledge is understood as a system for the formation of valid
statements, all knowledge is knowledge by differentiation, and this
differentiation is a political activity. First, in order to constitute itself as
such, some given knowledge must demarcate itself from what is
external to it, from what is not knowledge, be it opinion, ideology or
superstition. Second, knowledge reproduces itself by internal differen-
tiation, by discriminating between the clear and the opaque, the
relevant and the irrelevant, the valid and the invalid, the true and the
false. Thus, knowledge implies a set of ontological decisions; what does
exist, and what does not exist; what is present as an object, and what is
absent? From these decisions, two other decisions follow. One is ethical,
and tells us who we are, who is a friend, who is an enemy and who is a
stranger. In short, the ethical decision is one of deciding who is Same
and who is Other. The other decision is metahistorical, and tells us
where we came from, how we became friends, how we got here, where
we are, and where we are heading. In short, knowledge, being political
to the extent that it differentiates, is indissolubly intertwined with
identity and history.
Now knowledge does not differentiate itself wholly by itself; differ-
entiation invariably involves the objects, subjects and concepts that
occupy the spaces and positions denned by knowledge. It is here that
the problem of sovereignty enters; it is here that the concept of

sovereignty is filled with a historically variable content. As such,
sovereignty does not stand in a predetermined and internal relation to
knowledge, nor in an undetermined and external relation to it. Rather,
the relation between sovereignty and knowledge is undetermined and
internal, and is therefore also a historically open and productive
circuit. This productive relationship can be broken down into three
distinct types.
First, there is a relation of supplementation, by which sovereignty
sustains and reinforces the decisions on differentiation within a given
knowledge, and by which a given concept of sovereignty is sustained
by a specific differentiation within a given knowledge. Second, there is
a relation of articulation, by which sovereignty is articulated and legiti-
mized within a given knowledge, and by which a given knowledge is
articulated and legitimized through a given concept of sovereignty.
Third, there is a relation of duplication, by which the positions of
objects, subjects and concepts constituted by a given knowledge are
doubled by the position allotted to objects, subjects and concepts by a
given concept of sovereignty.
The primary objective of this book is to describe these conceptual
relations within three different periods - the Renaissance, the Classical
Age, and Modernity - each of them representing a specific arrange-
ment of knowledge, a specific mode of differentiation and a specific
arrangement of sovereignty. A secondary objective is to account for
the effective transition between these epistemic arrangements in terms
of the internal and undetermined relation between knowledge and
the concept of sovereignty. A tertiary but no less important objective is
to comment upon and to criticize existing philosophical and historical
accounts of sovereignty.
The general approach of this study is genealogical, a notion that will
be developed more fully in chapter 3. To say that a study is genealogi-
cal is to say three things. First, in so far as genealogy is a historical
method, it attempts to be effective history. A genealogy is not a history
of the past. Histories of the past can be written either in terms of a
present, or in terms of a hypothetical and perhaps idealized future,
whereas genealogy is a history of the present in terms of its past. Being
effective, it is not a history of causal connections between opinions or
precursive relationships between ideological positions, but a history of
logical spaces and their succession in time. In order to be effective, a
genealogy must start from an analysis of the present, and explain the
formation of this present in terms of its past; a genealogy has not as its
task to tell what actually happened in the past, but to describe how the
present became logically possible. Doing this, I will start out by an
analysis of the relationship between sovereignty and empirical know-
ledge within contemporary political science, and then seek to account
for the formation of this configuration in time. Second, and in order to
be effective history, genealogy must be episodical. It does not aim to
describe or explain past ages or past world-views in their entirety, but
focuses only on those episodes of the past which are crucial to our
understanding of what was singled out as problematic in the present.
Third, in order to be episodical, genealogy must also be exemplary. The
historical argument of genealogy proceeds by means of examples, and
these examples grouped together constitute episodes. An example is
not cut out of a corpus of evidence on the basis of its representa-
tiveness in relation to a preconstituted field, since what is to be
represented is a matter of what is exemplified. Rather, and as with
Aristotle, an example is selected on the basis of its multiplicity and
excess within a hypothetically determined field; an example is chosen
on the basis of a hypothetical rule which governs the formation of
examples within this field, and then used to support the hypothesis of
such general rule.8 An example is a good example to the extent that it
can be multiplied, and a series of examples is a good series if the series
displays a regularity beyond the individuality of each particular
example. In short, an exemplary history is based on the possibility of
finding general rules for particular cases, and particular cases for
general rules.9
In this study, the primary object of analysis is text. As I shall argue at
length in chapter 3, text ought to be treated as autonomous, and as
something logically prior to the objects with which it deals and the
author which it implicates; texts explain the world, rather than con-
versely.
The texts used in this book fall into two broad and ideal-typical
categories. First, there is what I would call traditionary texts. In this
category we find the canon of Western thought, texts that are read and
reread as containers of meaning and truth, as Leviathan or Kritik der
reinen Vernuft. Traditionary texts are those that become classics by
being constantly interpreted and reinterpreted over a span of time. At
the moment of their emergence, traditionary texts are read or intended
to be read as ratio scripta, the meaning and truth contained in them
being the meaning and truth of the world of which they speak. At
8
some fluid moment in time, however, their meaning and truth become
documentary, and the texts themselves become part of a historical
legacy, either because the world of which they speak has withered
away, or, because the world of which they speak has become all too
real to the reader, who has become its inhabitant. From this point on,
they speak of a world which is no longer simultaneous to the world in
which they emerged, but to a world which in its turn has emerged out
of it.
Second, and as a silent murmur surrounding the history of cano-
nized texts, we find what I call manuals. If traditionary texts furnish
blueprints for reality, manuals help to translate their meaning and
truth into reality and action, to animate the world of which the former
speak, to disseminate their ideas and turn them into folklore. They are
guidebooks to a reality which they simultaneously help constitute. In
this category we find works like Rohan's d'lnterest and Descartes'
Regulae; works that exercise a strong influence in their own time, but,
having performed their function as manuals for thought and action,
fall into relative obscurity and partial oblivion.
Like all ideal-types, these categories are not fully mutually exclusive.
It is not difficult to find texts that have become traditionary due to their
impact as manuals. Nor is it difficult to find writers who have written
both traditionary texts and manuals. // Principe is perhaps the most
obvious example of a manual which has become traditionary; Bodin
and Descartes are good examples of writers who wrote both tradi-
tionary texts and manuals.
In this book, both categories of texts are used as examples as well as
sources of examples, which means that the texts singled out for exemp-
lification and interpretation are not always those commonly identified
as the major ones of an age. Then too, when traditionary texts are
used, the reader will perhaps sometimes be surprised to find that the
passages utilized for exemplification are those which traditionally
have been regarded as peripheral, cryptic or too commonplace to merit
any serious attention. My selection of texts, and my selection of
passages from individual texts, are both idiosyncratic and self-
conscious; throughout, I have tried to avoid the trivial by reversing the
relationship between what has been regarded as central, and what has
been regarded as peripheral. This reversal, however, is not a reversal
for its own rebellious sake, but has been undertaken with a view to
what is central and what is peripheral to my problem. Thus, if I happen
to pay more attention to Rousset and Mably than to Montesquieu, or to
read Rousseau's Etat de guerre closer than his Jugement, it is not out of
disrespect for Montesquieu or out of negligence of the Jugement, but
out of the conviction that it is effective history that counts, and that the
rest is conversation.
Consequently, the specific questions and presuppositions guiding
each chapter have also been allowed to guide the sampling and
treatment of textual material. For example, one may well wonder why
I in chapter 4 chose to read three writers (Machiavelli, More and
Vitoria) closely, while in other chapters I use the technique of thematic
grouping and exemplification. The answer is fairly simple; it depends
on what I want to demonstrate. Specifically, since what is at stake in
chapter 4 is to demonstrate rather than merely discourse upon the
peculiar relationship between the Renaissance text and extra-textual
reality, I must get down to textual detail. This demand becomes less
severe with classical and modern texts, since they, although with
different emphasis, draw upon and are conditioned by a representa-
tional relation between text and reality with which we are much more
familiar.
When I have picked editions and translations, I have done so with
an eye to authenticity and availability. Whenever a translation has
been available, I have used it instead of the original text for quotation
and reference, but cross checked the translation of crucial terms
whenever a suspicion of anachronism or undue simplification or
popularization has arisen. When I have used original texts, I have tried
as far as possible to use standard editions. When I have quoted
passages in my own translation, I have supplied the untranslated
passage in a note.
When I have confronted individual texts with a view to their place
in the genealogical framework of analysis, I have done so not in a
search for their hidden meaning or their buried truth. As I shall
venture to explain in chapter 3,1 have tried to stay on their surface,
and focused on individual texts as both statements in themselves as
well as containers of statements. I have approached them as a felicitous
positivist, but not under the illusion that the act of interpretation can
be avoided or suspended. As with the choice of texts, interpretation
should stay away from the trivial, yet simultaneously it ought to be
guided by and relevant in relation to an overall problematic. This
double demand always runs the risk of doing violence to the text;
throughout this book, I have consistently sought to undo this violence
by supplementing the demand of non-triviality and relevance with a
10
demand for coherence and surplus. Thus, I have treated an interpreta-
tion of a singular passage as warranted, if and only if the interpretive
matrix superimposed on to this passage is consistent with the rest of
the text, and hypothetically would help us to make sense of more
singular passages than is actually needed, given the demand on rele-
vance for the overall problematic.
The rest of this book is organized as follows. In chapter 2,1 shall first
pose the question of the meaning of the term sovereignty, and briefly
describe what is implied in this practice of semantic questioning, and
the kind of problems confronted by it. Second, I shall analyse the
function of the concept of sovereignty within two regions of con-
temporary political science as if sovereignty signified an objective
reality of modern political life. In chapter 3, I shall describe those
problems which arise when we try to study the history of the concept
of sovereignty within political discourse, and respond to these prob-
lems by outlining a genealogical approach to conceptual history. In
chapter 4,1 shall describe the prehistory of the concept of sovereignty
during the later Middle Ages and the Renaissance, arguing that most
features we hold to be integral to the modern concept of sovereignty
are absent from political knowledge during this period. In chapter 5,1
shall focus on the discourse on sovereignty and its relationship to
classical knowledge, arguing that while this configuration contains a
rudiment of what we mean by sovereignty today, it nevertheless
excludes certain features of sovereignty which are judged to be trans-
historically present by modern historical and theoretical accounts of
sovereignty. In chapter 6, an account will be given for the trans-
formation which the discourse on sovereignty undergoes during the
early modern age in close conjunction with epistemic changes during
the same period, resulting in the modern notions of a sovereign state
and an international system as both opposed and mutually implicating
domains of political reality. Chapter 7 is devoted to conclusions.
11
The problem:
deconstructing sovereignty
External/internal, image/reality, representation/presence, such is the

old grid to which is given the task of outlining a domain of science.
And of what science? Of a science that can no longer answer to the
classical concept of the episteme because the originality of its field ...
is that the opening of the 'image' within it appears as the condition of
'reality'.
Derrida, Of Grammatology
What does the term sovereignty mean? In this chapter, I shall focus on
the troubled attempts by modern political science to provide an
answer to this question, directly as well as indirectly. First, I shall argue
that the vain attempts of conceptual analysis have less to do with the
inherent ambiguities of the concept, and more to do with the philo-
sophical tools utilized ta this purpose. Second, and as a response, I
shall turn the question of meaning into one of function, and investigate
how the concept of sovereignty silently informs and takes on meaning
within the empirical discourses of international political theory and
macrosociology. Third, I shall analyse the recent effort by structuration
theory to make sense of sovereignty by turning it into a constitutive
rule of both domestic and international politics.
Making sense of sovereignty: centrality and

ambiguity
Passing through the hands of politicians and philosophers during
centuries, the concept of sovereignty has been not only constitutive of
what modern politics is, and what modern political science is all about,1
but also a perennial source of theoretical confusion.2 Despite the wide
12
Deconstructing sovereignty
agreement about its central place in our political vocabulary and

understanding, the concept has eluded almost every attempt of rigor-
ous definition and conceptual analysis. To take two influential remarks
on the concept of sovereignty:
It [sovereignty] was never more than a convenient label; and when
distinctions began to be made between political, legal and economic
sovereignty or between internal and external sovereignty, it was clear
that the label had ceased to perform its proper function as a distin-
guishing mark for a single category of phenomena ... The concept of
sovereignty is likely to become in the future even more blurred and
indistinct than it is at present.3
In the light of this analysis it would appear a mistake to treat
'sovereignty' as denoting a genus of which the species can be distin-
guished by suitable adjectives, and there would seem to be a strong
case for giving up so protean a word.4
It is interesting to note that these death blows to the scientific usage
of the concept of sovereignty were written before and after the most
violent manifestation of sovereign statehood in modernity, and as
such they are typical of the standard operating procedure for handling
conceptual ambiguity and opacity in empirical political science.
Whenever the semantic analysis fails, the recalcitrant concept is ban-
ished from empirical discourse, as if the empiricist quest for clarity
itself were sovereign.
Now this chapter is a critical prelude to a genealogy of sovereignty,
and not another exercise in definition. As Nietzsche once noted, only
that which has no history can be defined;5 to start a history of sover-
eignty with a definition of the term sovereignty would be to subject its
historicity to the sovereignty of the present, and hence to narrow the
scope of investigation.6 Instead, and before embarking on a history of
sovereignty, we must pay some attention to the relationship between
the centrality and ambiguity of the concept of sovereignty.
In political discourse, centrality and ambiguity usually condition
each other over time. A concept becomes central to the extent that
other concepts are defined in terms of it, or depend on it for their
coherent meaning and use within discourse. These linkages - whether
inferential or rhetorical - saturate the concept in question with multi-
ple meanings that derive from these linkages, which make it ambigu-
ous; an ambiguity that is open to further logical and rhetorical
exploitation.
The concept of sovereignty is an emblematic example of this; by
13
being essentially uncontested as the foundation of modern political

discourse, it is essentially contested as to its meaning within the same
discourse. We can note how the centrality of the concept of sover-
eignty in modern political discourse has enabled it to soak up a
multitude of meanings through its various functions, this gradual
saturation going hand in hand with rhetorical and metaphorical
capitalizing on the resulting ambiguity, so that it has 'crystallized into
a kind of unity that is hard to disentangle and analyse'.7
Nor does this chapter aspire to outline any comprehensive theory of
sovereignty; instead, it is devoted to the problems that arise when a
scientific understanding of sovereignty is attempted. As I intend to
demonstrate in this chapter, what makes the concept of sovereignty
philosophically problematic is not any inherent opacity resulting from
the multiplicity of its usages across the history of political ideas, nor
any intrinsic ambiguity in the portions of political reality to which it is
supposed to refer. My contention is that the problems confronted by
conceptual analysis are intrinsic to the meta-language guiding this
analysis, and that sovereignty represents a crucial case in this respect.
Rather than dismissing the concept of sovereignty because of its
ambiguity, we should take a suspicious glance into the practices of
definition.
As it is a central assumption in this book that the problem of
sovereignty is both logically and historically connected to the possi-
bility of knowledge in general, a critical look at the practices of
definition behind the frustrated attempts quoted above may prove
instructive, both since the methods adopted when defining a concept
often nicely reflect underlying assumptions - whether made explicit or
taken for granted as part of the philosophical folklore - about the
relation between language and world in general, and since these
practices themselves are to be subjected to historical investigation in
later chapters.
Conceptual analysis typically begins by closing the concept, while
opening up its field of application to divergent interpretations. One
begins by isolating ideal instances of the concept to be defined, in
order to make it a 'distinguishing mark' or to discover 'a genus of
which the species can be distinguished'. When it comes to the case of
sovereignty, this is done by identifying a class of properties as 'essen-
tial' to statehood, thus demarcating 'sovereignty' from deviant cases
and eliminating obnoxious borderline cases by searching for ever more
finegrained qualitative differences. The desired outcome is a clarified
14
concept, evident in its logical purity and by the empirical givenness of

its referent.
Now this attitude towards concepts is heavily indebted to the codes
of semantic conduct drawn up by post-Kantian empiricists, and which
have gradually become part of scientific common sense. The under-
lying assumptions necessary to render this definitory practice defensi-
ble go something as follows: since language ought to be a transparent
medium for representing what takes place in the world outside the
knowing subject, the proper a priori meaning of a concept must be
fixed through an analysis and determination of its referent. Meaning
and reference are interdependent, insofar as their mutual determi-
nation is necessary if the concept is to be used in a phrase aspiring to a
posteriori truth-value. Without the possibility of empirical reference,
there is no clear-cut meaning. Without clear-cut meaning, there is no
possibility of settling a dispute over truth rationally. Without this
possibility, science is lost, rhetoric bursts in and the civil society of
political scientists is plunged into civil war.8
Applied to sponge concepts such as sovereignty, procedures based
upon this essentially representative view of language and the world run
into considerable difficulties. Conflicting conceptual pressures inher-
ent in the very metavocabulary of conceptual analysis beg the ques-
tion: does sovereignty refer to the empirical reality of political science,
or does it denote a set of juridical rules, such as 'the presupposed
assumption of a system of norms whose validity is not to be derived
from a superior order',9 and whose reality therefore is wholly at the
level of intersubjectivity? Since there is a strong temptation to get the
best out of the two conceptual worlds in order to cover the various
usages of sovereignty in modern political and legal discourse, defi-
nitions and theories of sovereignty are inclined to reproduce this
inherited ambiguity by splitting the difference between the conceptual
worlds of empirical political science and normative jurisprudence.10
One way to get around those obstacles is to approach sovereignty as
an essentially contested concept, by opening it up to divergent inter-
pretations while closing its field of application.11 Behind this strategy is
the assumption of an expressive relation between language and world
common to Kant and the romantics. Within this view, language is still
ideally transparent, but as a medium for expressing the identity and will
of a prior subject, rather than for representing what is outside him.
Instead of attempting a decontextualized analysis of sovereignty, one
analyses the discourse of sovereignty as an expression of the under-
15
lying identity of states, and decodes the latter by means of the former,
and conversely. Departing from its role in international rhetoric and in
the justification of foreign policy, James subsequently strips the
concept of sovereignty of a host of 'surface connotations' in order to
arrive at a minimal consensus behind its divergent uses by political
actors in an international context. What is at stake in this analysis is
'how, nowadays, sovereign states give meaning to the word when
they refer to that which makes them eligible for international life'.12
According to James, sovereignty ultimately refers to a condition of
constitutional independence, which is the secret behind all other
practices, domestic and international alike.
The implicitly transcendental method employed by James permits
an easy leap from 'objective' political reality to the realm of intersub-
jectivity. Sovereignty is nothing but a set of rules and resources
embedded in a collectively held legal understanding in the state
system. While sensitizing us to the rhetorical functions of the concept,
this quasi-phenomenology of sovereignty suffers from genesis
amnesia. The historical question of how this politico-legal intersubjec-
tivity came into being and became constitutive of international and
domestic life is simply impossible to answer within James's framework.
Making a legal rule foundational begs the question of how it was
founded in political practice, and with political practice defined in
terms of the same rule, the circle is closed; a history of either except in
the terms of the other would have been impossible, had it been James's
intention to write one, which it fortunately is not.
Apart from the more or less unsuccessful attempts to furnish a
clear-cut and theoretically and empirically fruitful definition of sover-
eignty, we have in recent years witnessed an increasing emphasis on
its constitutive role in modern political reality as well as in our under-
standing of it. This upsurge of interest in sovereignty ranges from
macrosociology to international political theory.
This effort at reproblematization has focused on the fact that the
concept seems to connote two contradictory ideas simultaneously,
something which has been almost self-evident to historians, but simul-
taneously philosophically enigmatic:
[I]n the context of the internal structure of a political society, the
concept of sovereignty has involved the belief that there is an abso-
lute political power within the community. Applied to problems
which arise in the relations between political communities, its func-
tion has been to express the antithesis of this argument - the principle
16
that internationally, over and above the collection of communities,

no supreme authority exists ... these two assertions are complemen-
tary. They are inward and outward expressions ... of the same
idea.13
In political sociology and in empirical international political theory,
these efforts have had many implications, one being the reification of
sovereignty into an organizing principle or a constitutive rule,
endowed with powers of its own. As Giddens has pointed out, 'sover-
eignty simultaneously provides an ordering principle for what is
"internal" to states and what is "external" to them'.14 This double and
constitutive character of sovereignty has been touched upon by
Ruggie, to whom sovereignty is a principle of legitimacy peculiar to
the post-medieval international system.15 Similarly, Kratochwil
emphasizes the impact of territorial sovereignty in the formation of
the modern state as the constitutive unit in the modern state system.16
Also, the push towards the reification of sovereignty has been
fuelled by the 'agent-structure debate' in international relations
theory and structurationist macrosociology. Moving the concept of
sovereignty away from its merely descriptive connotations, both
Wendt and Dessler turn sovereignty into a basic constitutive rule of
the international system, upon which the surface practices of state-
hood, such as security dilemmas and war, depend. 17
This dual and constitutive character of sovereignty points in an
important direction, and partly explains why it has been so difficult to
grasp analytically. At a minimum, sovereignty seems to connote a
unified political condition, but turns out to be extremely recalcitrant
when thought to refer to something 'internal' or 'external' to states.
Sovereignty as a concept seems to float free of its instances in the
'domestic' and 'international' spheres. Instead, it cuts across these
levels of analysis, and seems to be the condition behind their separa-
tion and interdependence; it forms the crucial link between anarchy
and hierarchy.
But, as will be argued later on in this chapter, while structuration
theorists in both disciplinary camps have turned sovereignty into an
organizing principle or a constitutive rule, they have also simultane-
ously withdrawn sovereignty itself from study; the more sovereignty
is thought to explain, the more it itself is withdrawn from expla-
nation. The theoretical sovereignty of sovereignty leaves sovereignty
itself essentially unquestioned; the more constitutive sovereignty
appears to be, the less unconstituted it becomes.
17
The duality of sovereignty has also spurred a critical inquiry into the
discourse on sovereignty in international political theory. To Ashley,
this duality entails an ethical paradox. Through its function in the
discourse of power politics, it effectively separates the domestic from
the international sphere by defining the margins of a political commu-
nity spatially as well as temporally; thus, international theory and
practice are rendered immune to criticism.18 As such, the concept of
sovereignty has provided international political theory with a cachet
of chic dissidence:
What is at stake is nothing less than the question of sovereignty:
whether or not this most paradoxical question, alive in all the widen-
ing margins of a culture, can be taken seriously in international
studies today. More pointedly, the issue is whether and to what
extent the discipline of international studies will be able to exercise its
critical resources to engage and analyze the problem of and resistance
to sovereignty as it unfolds in all the multiplying deterritorialized
zones of a culture in crisis - including that extraterritorial zone called
international politics.19
Thus, and quite automatically, the question of sovereignty spills over
into a questioning of disciplinary identity and cohesion. But while
critical theorists have contributed many valuable insights into the logic
of sovereignty and its ethical and cultural significance in the present,
they cannot be said to have studied sovereignty - whether as a concept
or a discursive practice - rigorously.20 They have limited their investi-
gation to critical reflection upon its present consequences, but without
asking how we got into this present, derelict as it appears to them.
It is my contention that the duality of sovereignty has hitherto
escaped attention in modern political science and in the history of
ideas, and that the main reason for this has to do with what it means to
be 'scientific' in political science and 'historical' in the history of ideas.
Throughout this book, I shall argue that the problem of sovereignty is
inexorably intertwined with the possibility of knowledge; in this
chapter, I shall demonstrate that the incapacity of contemporary
research practices to make sense of sovereignty has to do with their
unanimous acceptance of the modernist assumption that theoretical
vocabularies are more or less transparent mediums for representing a
ready-made reality outside themselves.
Within the view expounded in this book, discourse is not primarily
a medium for representing the world more or less accurately, or to
express the unthought habits of a subject. Instead, discourse - whether
18
political or scientific - is actively involved in the construction of reality

through - as Nietzsche put it - the mobile army of metaphors. In this
chapter, this means that the problems confronted by conceptual analy-
sis give us a strong case for shifting philosophical strategy, if we later
are to make sense of sovereignty in its full historicity.
Thus, before embarking on the task of writing a genealogy of
sovereignty, a critical inquiry into the contemporary empirical dis-
course on sovereignty is necessary.
Far from being homogeneous, the contemporary empirical discourse
on sovereignty flows from two distinct but complementary fields of
knowledge, their separation to an extent reflecting the divide between
the external and internal aspects of sovereignty inherent in the
concept. Thus, while concern with the former aspect is the traditional
privilege of international political theory, macrosociology of state for-
mation aims to explain the latter.
As I shall argue in the following sections, these explanatory prior-
ities put international political theory and macrosociology in an
inverse but symmetrical relationship to each other; each discourse
takes for granted exactly that which the other takes to be problematic.
Sampling from the exemplars21 in each field, the following sections aim
to provide a brief sketch of what is presupposed in the current empiri-
cist understanding of sovereignty in both fields, and to explore the
possibility of a more integrated conceptualization of sovereignty as
proposed by structuration theory.
The choice of these two discourses also reflects two secondary
objectives of this chapter. Since they both are empiricist in outlook, the
critical inquiry permits us to judge the impact of this empiricism on the
conceptualization of sovereignty. The second reason pertains to their
complementary yet opposed character. The theoretical and empirical
integration across these fields of knowledge is a promise held out by
structuration theorists and scientific realists within both fields; the
present chapter also aims to evaluate this promise, and to explore the
reconceptualization of sovereignty it implies.
The general approach of this chapter is deconstructive. As a philo-
sophical strategy, deconstruction addresses itself precisely to that
which is taken for granted or regarded as unproblematic by a scientific
analysis. In the present context, deconstruction is a way of exposing
19
the possibility of reference and meaning of concepts to internal criti-

cism. Instead of taking the possibility of reference and meaning for
granted, deconstruction asks questions about their relation to presence,
thus turning semantic problems into ontological ones: what must be
regarded as real, basic or original, and what must be considered as
absent, derivative or supplementary when making sense of sover-
eignty in empirical discourse?
Above all, assumptions of simple and firm ontological foundations -
a minimum starting point for every discourse that aspires to scientific
status - are always targets for deconstructive criticism, which recog-
nizes every ontological foundation as something contingent. This
habit of presupposing underlying essences is intimately related to the
conceptual zero-sum games that organize and govern all theoretical
vocabularies. Typically, a scientific or philosophical language is
organized and made possible by a set of binary oppositions, concep-
tual categories defined as mutually exclusive. It is in and through the
play of these categories that theoretical meaning is constructed; the
upshot of deconstruction is that the terms involved in each such
opposition are hierarchically arranged, so that the term which enjoys
logical, ontological, or ethical privilege signifies what is present or
foundational, while the other, inferior term, marks off its negation or
supplement.22
As an antidote to uncritical conceptual analysis, deconstruction
involves a demonstration of the metaphysical or ideological character
of the presuppositions relied on, and the determination of their place
in a wider system of metaphysical or ideological values. Furthermore,
deconstruction implies a reversal of the conceptual oppositions dis-
covered in a text, rather than an attempt to criticize them from an
allegedly external or neutral perspective.23 In the words of Derrida, to
deconstruct a theory does not consist of 'moving from one concept to
another but of reversing and displacing a conceptual order as well as
the nonconceptual order with which it is articulated ... It is on this
condition alone that deconstruction will provide the means of inter-
vening in the field of oppositions it criticizes.'24 That is, deconstruction
is an immanent form of critique: it borrows its resources from the same
theory it deconstructs, and the oppositions and concepts criticized are
simultaneously maintained and employed in the deconstructive argu-
ment, but reinstated with a different status and meaning in the actual
context.25
What lies ahead is a deconstructive tour through a vast theoretical
20
territory which of course cannot be covered completely; instead, I will

go for the milestones along the road to scientification followed by
international political theory and macrosociology respectively.26 In so
doing, I shall limit my inquiry to three related questions concerning
the status of the concept of sovereignty in these texts. All of them are
key questions to classical political philosophy which take on a different
sense when posed within a deconstructivist framework; their formula-
tion is not expected to yield final answers, but to unmask the concep-
tual problems which a scientific discourse runs into when trying to
answer them.
The first and most basic question in this triad concerns the source of
sovereignty: what kind of origin or foundation is invoked when
explaining or justifying the existence of the sovereign state by inter-
national political theory and macrosociology respectively? Second,
what is the locus attributed to sovereignty by these theories? Where,
and with whom, does sovereignty reside inside the state? Third,
what is the scope of sovereignty; exactly what is encompassed and
brought under its sway? While the first question concerns the philo-
sophical legitimacy of the state, the second concerns its status as an
acting subject, while the third concerns the objective conditions of its
unity.
Perhaps partly because of its ambiguity, the theme of sovereignty is
marked by its relative absence in contemporary scientific texts, and a
reading of them must pay attention to elements rendered marginal by
the interpretations encouraged or authorized by the texts themselves,
and sometimes ask how this silencing and marginalization take place.
A deconstructive reading cannot give the author any interpretative
privilege on the basis of what his text tells us to do with it or on the
basis of any intentions ascribed to him or declared by him; authorized
readings and stated intentions are part of the text, and have to be
interpreted as such. Hence, the author is never sovereign within and
over the text: he writes in a language and in a logic which he cannot
dominate, using them only by letting himself, up to a point, be
governed by the system of statements he sets in motion.27
International political theory and the givenness of
sovereignty
During the last decades, it has been commonplace to note two things
about international political theory. While being 'state-centric', it lacks
an accurate understanding of its basic unit of analysis. That is, explicit
21
and falsifiable theories of the state as a political actor are nowhere
articulated in the literature on international politics.28
To be sure, this line of criticism is valid but in a sense trivial. The very
term 'international', taken as a mark of disciplinary identity, makes up
both for the centrality and unproblematic character of the state in
international political theory. Thus Raymond Aron was anxiously
guarding his intellectual territory, when stating that 'a complete
science or philosophy of politics would include international relations
as one of its chapters, but this chapter would retain its originality since
it would deal with the relations between political units'.29 Inter-
national relations theory is thus 'entitled to take for granted ... the
political units'.30
No one criticizes chemistry for taking the existence of atoms for
granted, lower or higher levels of complexity are simply left to
physicists and biologists respectively. Therefore, we should better
view criticism along the above lines not as an ontological dispute
going on within a preconstituted and homogeneous field of know-
ledge, but as a contest over a problematic disciplinary identity. For
example, during the period when the interdependence of states was
emphasized in international relations theory, it became commonplace
to insist that the distinction between domestic society and inter-
national system was blurred or about to be dissolved. But inter-
dependence theorists could not have it both ways; either they were
right in their talk about blurring, with the inevitable consequence that
their theories ceased to be theories of international politics, or, as was
more often the case, talk about blurring was mere lip-service, this
being so since talk about blurring and dissolution always presupposes
that that which is blurred essentially is distinct; in the end one was
tacitly reaffirming the same distinction which one so valiantly criti-
cized.31
Every scientific practice has to start somewhere, and international
political theory happens to take the existence of the state as foun-
dational for its intellectual enterprise. Nevertheless, even if the state is
taken to be ontologically primitive, and its primitiveness is integral to
the field of knowledge as such, questions about the state as a political
actor have not been avoided by international political theory, even if
they occupy a somewhat marginal position.
For what makes a state a state? What is the crucial property behind
its capacity for unitary action? What distinguishes it from other forms
of political organization?
22
Facing these questions, sovereignty is introduced both as the defin-

ing property of the state and in explaining the presence of an inter-
national system. For since the state is regarded as historically and
ontologically prior to the system of states in the discourse on inter-
national politics, the essence of statehood appears to be the necessary
condition also of the larger whole, the international system.32
In the more traditional exemplars of international political theory,
this foundational character of sovereignty is grasped historically, as a
result of the fall from a primordial political unity. According to Wight,
'international politics ... came into existence when medieval Christen-
dom dissolved and the modern sovereign state was born'.33 A similar
historical origin is invoked by Morgenthau, to whom 'supreme power
over a certain territory' is the very source of legal decentralization, so
that without the sovereign state a 'state system based on it could not
exist'.34 To Aron, sovereignty is 'historically incontestable' as the 'origi-
nal fact' of the international system, the very 'basis of inter-state order
and intrastate order'.35 To Bull, the presence of international relations
is conditioned - logically as well as historically - by sovereignty:
The starting point of international relations is the existence of states,
or independent political communities, each of which possesses a
government and asserts sovereignty in relation to a particular portion
of the earth's surface and a particular segment of the human popu-
lation. On the one hand, states assert, in relation to this territory and
population, what may be called internal sovereignty, which means
supremacy over all other authorities within that territory and popu-
lation. On the other hand, they assert what may be called external
sovereignty, by which is meant not supremacy but independence of
outside authorities.36
This traditionalist awareness of the historical roots of sovereignty is
replaced by abstraction in the course of scientincation. In Waltz's
seminal Theory of International Politics, sovereignty is stripped of its
historical origin and reinstated ahistorically as an organizing principle.
What appeared to traditionalists as the outcome of political fragment-
ation and alienation within Christianity, now carries the burden of
explaining 'the striking sameness in the quality of international life
through the millennia'.37
While 'systemic' in its epistemic priorities, Waltz's theory turns out
to be 'reductionist' at the level of ontology. The existence of the
international system is ultimately dependent on and explained with
reference to sovereignty, which is the most basic and essential unit
23
attribute in Waltz's theory. International anarchy emerges out of the
the coaction of like units',38 and 'to call states "like units" is to say that
each state is like all other states in being an autonomous political unit.
It is another way of saying that states are sovereign.'39 Thus, we could
expect sovereignty to be as immutable as anarchy in Waltz's model: 'so
long as anarchy endures, states remain like units'.40
Here, sovereignty and anarchy are tied together ontologically at the
level of definition, the former term being logically privileged, since it
signifies that which is foundational to international politics. The state
is conceptualized as an individual, in the sense of being indivisible.
Further, by giving epistemic priority to the systemic level of analysis,
Waltz creates a watertight circular connection between anarchy and
sovereignty; their logical interdependence is conditioned by a gesture
outside history but inside the theory itself, by splitting the difference
between ontological and epistemic priorities. All this is done in order
to extend the explanatory scope to cover everything that looks inter-
national from the dawn of history up to the present; Waltz has
furnished us with a recipe for explaining the past in terms of the
present, in which 'anarchy' and 'sovereignty' seem to be two sides of
the same coin, but one cannot, from within this perspective, ever hope
to explain how this connection was forged; coming from nowhere,
consolidated in the deep structure of international politics, sover-
eignty is here to stay.
To sum up, the ontological primacy accorded to the state in inter-
national political theory implies the givenness of sovereignty as its defin-
ing property; sovereignty signifies what is inside the state, either
constituted by the fall from a primordial unity, or simply taken for
granted at the level of definition. In either case, sovereignty is consti-
tuted as a primitive presence from which all theorizing necessarily
must depart, if it is to remain international political theorizing.
However foundational in itself and with respect to international
political theory, sovereignty is not devoid of normative justification. In
the discourse on international politics, the source of sovereignty is to
be found at the philosophical level, in the logic of conflict inherited
from contractual theories.
Within this logic, order grows out of disorder, harmony out of
conflict, and it does so by means of a sublimation of otherness. In a
historical and dialectical series, conflicting forces of human nature and
human societies reach reconciliation by transposing their conflict to a
higher level of complexity or to a different stage of history. Briefly put,
24
this logic starts out from an anterior origin - human nature or the
nature of the social bond - and then ventures to explain and justify the
transition from this anterior and primitive origin as a gradual over-
coming of otherness and estrangement; as such, the transition is
mediated by culture, and each move marks a step on the ladder of
civilization; it marks the triumph of rational and civilized man over the
dark forces of nature, but with the undesired yet inevitable side-effect
that these forces return at a higher level, and then partly out of man's
reach. In international political theory, this regressive progression or
progressive regression is that which explains the essential difference
between domestic and international politics:
The state of nature among men is a monstrous impossibility ...
governments establish the conditions for peace [and are] at the same
time the precondition of society. The state of nature that continues to
prevail among states often produces monstrous behavior but so far
has not made life itself impossible.41
[HJostility is natural among men; it accepts regulation only within the
political unit which is based on opposition and defines itself in its
turn by hostilities. In other words, the historical dialectic never sup-
presses the recourse to force, but transposes it to a higher level.42
Hence, the 'starting point of any valid theory of international rela-
tions',43 that is, the divide between domestic and international politics,
comes naturally: 'so long as humanity has not achieved unification
into a universal state, an essential differenc. will exist between internal
politics and foreign politics. The former tends to reserve the monopoly
of violence to those wielding legitimate authority, the latter accepts the
plurality of centers of armed force.'44
What is portrayed as historically prior to and the moving force
behind the transition of the sovereign state becomes externalized
through the transition, whether in the shape of an unrestrained urge
for power on behalf of individual states, or manifested in new social
bond, the international anarchy. The point of departure does not really
matter to the logic of sublimation; the universal value of sovereignty is
affirmed by its negation, its other. Internal sovereignty is legitimized
with reference to what is externalized at the moment of birth, without
ever being abolished wholesale; either 'the struggle for power is uni-
versal in time and space',45 and thus beyond remedy, or the state of
nature becomes immutable when transposed to the interstate level.46 In
any case, whether departing from man's sinful nature or the corruption
25
of the social bond, the logic of sublimation moves in the same direction
and creates the same difference and ethical hierarchy between the
domestic and the international. Thus, the ontological priority given to
sovereignty is supported by its ethical privilege: '[i]f might does not
make right, whether among people or states, then some institution or
agency has intervened to lift them out of nature's realm'.47
Moreover, the givenness of sovereignty implies that its locus must
be treated as a constant rather than as a variable in international
political theory; most theories of international politics presuppose a
solution to the inherently normative problem of the proper locus of
sovereign authority inside the state; a solution which then is turned
into a necessary condition of outward agency. The question of the
locus of sovereignty is a question of what lurks behind the metonym of
the state, and what constitutes it as a political subject in international
political theory.
When it comes to the question of the locus, international political
theory has difficulty in remaining consistent in its discontinuities. The
impetus behind this question comes from two different points. On the
one hand, the inherited contractual vocabulary was invented in order
to solve the problem of the locus in the domestic context, treating its
external aspect as supplementary. In this case, the push towards a
solution comes from the genealogy of concepts employed in the logic
of sublimation. On the other, international political theory must
present an operational solution to the problem of the locus in order to
be susceptible to empirical test.
The answers given hover between two legal fictions; either sover-
eignty is indivisible and concentrated in the hands of one man, or,
sovereignty is dispersed in the social body, finding its expression in an
indivisible general will or in the consent of a majority.
Morgenthau comes close to the first extreme above. To him, a
concentration of power in the hands of one or a few men is necessary
for unitary state agency. Since sovereignty is 'the result of the actual
distribution of power in the state',48 'it stands to reason that two or
more entities - persons, groups of persons or agencies - cannot be
sovereign within the same time and space'.49 From this necessary
indivisibility of sovereignty follows that 'if the location of sovereignty
is held in abeyance ... a struggle, political or military, between the
pretenders to supreme authority will decide the question one way or
another'.50 Pushed by his metaphysics of power and his logic of
conflict, Morgenthau's indebtedness to Carl Schmitt51 becomes clear:
26
[I]n any state, democratic or otherwise, there must be a man or a
group of men ultimately responsible for the exercise of political
authority. Since in a democracy that responsibility lies dormant in
normal times, barely visible through the network of constitutional
arrangements and legal rules, it is widely believed that it does not
exist, and that supreme lawgiving and law-enforcing authority,
which was formerly the responsibility of one man, the monarch, is
now distributed among the different co-ordinate agencies of the
government, and that, in consequence no one of them is supreme. Or
else that authority is supposed to be vested in the people as a whole,
who, of course, as such cannot act. Yet in times of crisis and war that
ultimate responsibility asserts itself ... and leaves to constitutional
theories the arduous task of arguing it away after the event.52
In the other, pluralist solution, the being of the state is dependent on
an original concentration of power, but its capacity for unified
outward agency is not. Instead, as in the case of popular sovereignty,
unified agency flows from the collective will of the community, itself
an organic unity by virtue of social cohesion and national loyalty.
Within this view, 'there can be no presumption that the interest of the
state and the action of the sovereign coincide',53 since the interest of
the state no longer is denned as the will of a personalized sovereign.
Ideally, foreign policy should be an expression of the general will of
the community, and in the 'ultimate case the agreement of the citizens
with the government's foreign policy is complete'.54 However, in the
final analysis, this depersonalized and decentralized sovereignty turns
out to be a derivative case, since a sufficient condition of unity, without
which the state 'could no longer be considered a unit for purposes of
international political analysis ... is simply the naked power of the de
facto sovereign'.55
A similar ambiguity is displayed by Aron, but with the difference
that organic metaphor is substituted for vague democratic allegiances.
Whereas modern states have 'discovered the secret of the ... union of
culture and politics, history and reason',56 we are entitled to conceive
of the state as a 'collective personality' being capable of 'thought and
choice', but only in virtue of persons acting as 'interpreters or guides of
the collectivity'.57 Finally, to Bull, this tension between princely and
popular sovereignty marks the difference between a system of states
and a society of states, the latter being the outcome of the recognition
of national and popular sovereignty as principles of international
legitimacy.58
From an operational point of view, the question of the locus of
27
sovereignty is important; at the same time, explicitness on this point

seems to block nomothetic aspirations. Thus in Waltz's Theory, all
possible specific loci are lumped together under the organizing prin-
ciple of hierarchy, with no further elaboration.59 This move of course
extends the explanatory scope by making a bigger portion of political
time-space - past as well as future - look like the present, but to the
effect that the question of locus becomes difficult to answer with
reference to the present, since sovereignty floats free of location at the
domestic level. It is the logical condition of an abstract state and the
secret of its unity.
What is more important, however, is what is taken for granted in the
practice of identifying or denning the locus of sovereignty. Quite
irrespective of whether sovereignty is held to be concentrated or
dispersed in the social body, or turned into a property of the state as a
whole by means of abstraction, the entire locus problem rests on the
assumption that sovereignty is one and indivisible within the political
order.60
Since Bodin, indivisibility has been integral to the concept of sover-
eignty itself. In international political theory, this means that
whenever sovereignty is used in a theoretical context to confer unity
upon the state as an acting subject, all that it conveys is that this entity
is an individual by virtue of its indivisibility, which is tautological
indeed. What follows from this search for the locus of sovereignty in
international political theory, however necessary to its empirical testa-
bility, is thus nothing more than a logical sideshow; the essential step
towards unity is already taken whenever sovereignty figures in the
definition of a political order. Whether thought to be upheld by an
individual or a collective, or embodied in the state as a whole, sover-
eignty entails self-presence and self-sufficiency; that which is sover-
eign is immediately given to itself, conscious of itself and thus acting
for itself. That is, as it figures in international political theory, sover-
eignty is not an attribute of something whose existence is prior to or
independent of sovereignty; rather, it is the concept of sovereignty
itself which supplies this indivisibility and unity.
At a less abstract level, the self-presence of sovereignty has two
important implications. First, and consistent with the logic of subli-
mation, it places the metaphysical unity of the state in opposition to its
outside, its ethical negation. The international system is marked by the
absence of unity right from the start; it is pure plurality. From this
opposition, everything else follows: what is listed as essential to state-
28
hood is absent in the international realm, and vice versa. The whole
range of dichotomies employed in international political theory to
demarcate the domestic from the international gains logical and rhe-
torical impact from this single ontological gesture and the systematic
play of identity and difference it brings into being. What makes a state
a state and thus identical with itself is its difference from what is
different from identity: difference.
Second, the self-presence of sovereignty is the prime source of the
perennial tension between democracy and foreign policy. Rather than
being the result of mere ideological inclinations, the 'conservative' bias
in international political theory flows directly from its ontology; or,
more precisely, from the ontological incommensurability between
external and internal sovereignty. To say that a state is externally
sovereign is in the context of international political theory another
way of saying that it is a unity, whose indivisibility hinges on the pres-
ence of a monopoly of legitimate violence, and which thus ideally
speaks with one voice to its neighbours. To say that a state is internally
democratic is in the context of classical political theory another way of
saying that it is a divisible manifold, in which a plurality of voices
should be listened to.
As a consequence, attempts to bridge this ontological gap are bound
to be detrimental to the metaphysical unity of the state, and thus to
the coherence of any empirical theory departing from it. Conversely, if
we dare to approach this problem at the ontological core level, we
shall find ourselves criticizing the inherited divide between the dom-
estic and the international, and all that goes with it.
Moving on to the scope of sovereignty, this aspect of statehood is
what is treated as unproblematic when the word state is used meta-
phorically. In international political theory, the givenness of sover-
eignty implies the relative constancy of its scope. What is encom-
passed by sovereignty is from the vantage point of its locus a domain
of objects, more or less essential components of a state by being
integral to its objective unity as well as to its outward power and
recognition.
In the standard solution to this problem, endlessly repeated or
simply taken for granted in the discourse on international politics,
sovereignty is taken to be a political or legal fact within an already
given and demarcated territory, simultaneously signifying sover-
eignty over the same territory, and everything that happens to be
inside this portion of space. In Bull's phrase, the state asserts sover-
29
eignty 'in relation to a particular portion of the earth's surface and a
particular segment of the human population'.61
Thus, sovereignty and space are conceptualized in logical inter-
dependence with one another right from the start, but this conceptua-
lization can follow two different routes. Either one takes the compart-
mentalization of space into territorial portions to be a necessary feature
of sovereignty,62 or, conversely, the modern state is a 'centralized area
unit whose sovereignty, independence and power all resulted from its
1611110113111/, 63
The implication of the first route leading from the fact of sovereignty
to the fact of spatiality, is that sovereignty then signifies sovereignty
over a territory, which means that sovereignty has to exist prior to
boundaries, and is that which demarcates territory through the
drawing of boundaries. In this case, to be sovereign over a territory
seems to implicate self-containment and self-demarcation from an
environment of other, self-contained and self-demarcating units.
If one follows the second route, leading from the fact of territoriality
to the fact of sovereignty, sovereignty then signifies something that
exists within a given territory. In this case, sovereignty must be demar-
cated by boundaries, and therefore also logically and historically pos-
terior to them, be they analytical or geographical. In sum, a bounded
territory can either be interpreted as a necessary condition of sover-
eignty, or conversely, sovereignty can be interpreted as a necessary
condition of a bounded territory.
However far back we push this chicken-or-egg series in search of a
firm theoretical foundation, we will end up in a particular conceptual
hierarchy between sovereignty and territory, a hierarchy which in
turn will be reflected in solutions to less abstract political and legal
problems. If, for example, territoriality is taken to be essential to
sovereignty, we are likely to side with Morgenthau and Herz in
regarding the territorial impenetrability as the mark of sovereignty,
and equate the loss of territory with the loss of sovereignty.64 Conver-
sely, if sovereignty conceptually gains the upper hand, territory will
figure as a derivative aspect of relative political and legal sovereignty,
and all further questions are bound to concern the locus of sovereignty
and the causal conditions of its agency, such as its degree of depend-
ence on other political orders, as implied by Waltz and James.65
What is more important in this context is how this logical and
metaphorical link between sovereignty and space is forged. On this
point, Aron is most explicit and lists a series of significations attributed
30
to space in international political theory. First, space is a physical fact,

since it seems; undeniable that any human configuration must occupy
a piece of it, irrespective of political organization. Second, space is an
environment, since it seems likewise undeniable that any human con-
figuration there finds the resources essential to its subsistence. Third,
space is a theatre, since every human activity requires a spatial frame-
work to exist. Fourth, space is a stake, since in every human rivalry, the
possession of space is involved, either directly or indirectly. Fifth,
space is a geopolitical fact or a metaphysical essence, since the sense
attributed to space is determined by a particular configuration of all
man/space relations listed above.66
What is interesting in this analysis is the subdued genealogy it
represents; interpreted historically, all these determinations of space
constitute a story of its politicization; it moves from the allegedly
simple and indubitable to the philosophically and politically contesta-
ble. It is precisely in the course of this stepwise transition from the
indubitably given to the physical presence of space to its metaphysical
reification that the link between sovereignty and territoriality is
forged, and opened to infinite reversal. If the crucial move comes
when political content is attributed to this physical presence, in order
to become naturalized as territory, this linking does not take place in
the three last steps in the series, as Aron wants us to believe, but
already in the first. When space is acknowledged as a physical fact, it is
acknowledged by a subject; already here a man/space relation enters
political knowledge as something indubitable, and space takes on
political meaning as a clue to the sovereignty of a state; territory is
naturalized right from the start, and without this essential conjunction
of space, man and politics, sovereignty would lose its meaning as a
defining property of that space. The politicization of space does not
come when it is turned into a stage or Lebensraum, but is present as
soon as space becomes an object of political knowledge.
Apart from its territorial base and the inanimate resources it contains,
sovereignty also encompasses the social and institutional reality of
statehood. At this point, the theoretical impetus towards conceptualiz-
ing the state as an empirical and transcendental unity, also pushes
international political theory in a vaguely nationalist direction. Most
notably in traditionalists like Wight, Morgenthau and Bull, nationalism
is not merely a historical episode in the consolidation of European
states. Instead, national allegiance is portrayed as a baseline fact of inter-
national politics, as an immutable outcome of an irreversible process.
31
Nationalism came to stay, since the social and cultural homogeneity

of a population subjected to sovereignty, along with harmony among
its social and political institutions, are conditions of its objective and
empirical unity as well as an element of its power. Thus Wight:
'[M]odern man in general has shown a stronger loyalty to the state
than to church or class or any other international bond ... A power is a
modern sovereign state in its external aspect, and it might almost be
defined as the ultimate loyalty for which men today will fight/67 This
view is repeated, though with less eloquence, by Morgenthau: '[T]he
nation-state is to a higher degree than ever before the predominant
source of the individual's moral and legal valuations and the ultimate
point of reference for his secular loyalties. Consequently, its power
among other nations and the preservation of its sovereignty are the
individual's foremost political concern in international affairs.'68 And
again, now bluntly, by Waltz: '[I]t has been increasingly true in recent
centuries, however, that most people feel a loyalty to the state that
overrides their loyalty to almost any other group ... the centripetal
force of nationalism may itself explain why states can be thought of as
units.'69
When it comes to the relation between nation and state, Aron the
sociologist is better equipped and less uncritical than many of his
insular companions, who to him are 'unconsciously putting the seal of
eternity upon the historical philosophy of the European nineteenth
century'.70 Instead, Aron brings into discussion the conceptual and
causal links between nationalism, citizenship and sovereignty:
The nation, as the ideal type of the political unit, has a triple char-
acteristic: the participation of all those governed in the state under
the double form of conscription and universal suffrage, the coinci-
dence of this political will and of a community of culture, and the
total independence of the national state with regard to the external
world. A nation is always a result of history, a work of centuries. It is
born through trials, starting from the sentiments of men but not
without the action of force, the force of the political unit which
destroys the pre-existing units, or the force of the state which brings
into subjection regions or provinces.71
Ideally, in this masterpiece of history, the locus and the scope of

sovereignty coincide to the extent that they become two sides of one
and the same coin, which is indivisible sovereignty itself. This ideal
union between 'political will' and a 'community of culture', however,
merely transposes the difference between state and nation to the
32
depths of history. The underlying tension between subject and object
is not resolved, nor mediated; the happy coexistence of state and
nation is dependent on a pre-established harmony between 'the senti-
ments of men' and 'the action of force', the latter collaborating with the
former in its desire for unity. Thus, Aron eventually brings us back to
square one; the force and the sentiment invoked are the force and the
sentiment of unities whose unity was to be accounted for in the first
place. Pushing the problem down into the depths of history, Aron
himself quite unconsciously puts the seal of nineteenth-century phil-
osophy of history upon his story.
In the abstract and void state of the later Waltz, the social scope of
sovereignty drops out as irrelevant together with all other unit attri-
butes except sovereignty itself.72 Instead, a forever undefined
minimum level of differentiation and functional specification among
the constituent parts of a political unit is all that is required for it to be
ranked as a hierarchy in Waltz's dichotomy of political order/ 3 pro-
vided that this mode of organization is carried out from some myster-
ious sovereign point above the social order.74
However, the basis of this differentiation and the extent of the
functional specification necessary to qualify as a political unit are both
held in abeyance by Waltz. As has been pointed out by some of his
critics/5 the unit level is logically amorphous to the extent that the
relation between state and society cannot even be problematized
within Waltz's analytical framework. The principles according to
which social and institutional differentiation takes place are left out,
and together with them, all questions of social and cultural cohesion.
Their relations to sovereignty are defined away, which is halfway
taking their smoothness for granted.
Thus, the question of the social scope of sovereignty, whenever
posed within international political theory, is likely to render nation-
alist, romantic or eurocentric answers. There seems to be no choice but
to abstract from one's own position within political time-space, an
experience which for international political theorists is a predomin-
antly European and American experience of statehood, and to encom-
pass all the ideological answers given to these questions by
eighteenth- and nineteenth-century political thought.
Finding a catchword to describe the mutations that the concept of
sovereignty has gone through in the brief conceptual history that can
be read off from post-war international political theory, silencing
would seem an appropriate term. From being conceptualized as the
33
outcome of a profound historical change by traditionalists such as
Wight and Morgenthau, sovereignty takes on a more abstract meaning
in the quest for scientific rigor; from being historically foundational to
the discipline's identity and the reality this discipline seeks to com-
prehend, it gradually becomes ontologically and epistemically foun-
dational with respect to both reality and understanding. Its own
historicity is silenced as it takes on the task of explaining past and
present: it becomes a metaphysical condition of the unity of the
modern state.
By the same token, and as a result of its gradual naturalization and
deproblematicization, questions regarding the locus and scope of
sovereignty have become redundant in international political theory.
As best exemplified by Aron and Waltz, the whole array of epistemic
and ideological questions which arise in connection with locus and
scope are either silenced, or abolished by means of abstraction and a
simultaneous fostering of an ethical incommensurability between
'external' and 'internal' sovereignty, between the domestic and the
international.
The givenness of sovereignty, which I take to be integral to the
possibility of a scientific study of international politics, need not neces-
sarily entail the metaphysical assumption that sovereignty is given
outside time-space, contemplating its own indivisibility and immutabi-
lity. If sovereignty in the present context seems at a minimum to
signify the existence of final authority within as well as over a slice of
political time-space, there is a tendency - less marked among tradi-
tionalists - in international political theory to regard this condition as
something situated at and simultaneously being the end of history,
beyond which no further change can be imagined. How is this
possible?
At its core, international political theory seems to have retained the
princely perspective upon which it once was founded. It is the per-
spective of the sovereign himself, or of the statesman representing
him, standing on ground whose solidity he depends upon and must
confirm through affirmative outwardly glances, at the Other, the
international system. In order to fulfil the task of the international
political theorist, says Morgenthau, 'we put ourselves in the position of
a statesman who must meet a certain problem of foreign policy ... and
we ask ourselves what the rational alternatives are ... and which of
these rational alternatives this particular statesman ... is likely to
choose.'76 It is to this perspective the reading of international political
34
theory is encouraged to conform. At the textual level, the givenness of

sovereignty is warranted by its coincidence with the position of the
authorized reader of international political theory, and the docile
spectator of international events. Ultimately, the truth purveyed by
international political theory hinges on the possibility of representation,
on a juxtaposition of the knowing subject with a representable reality,
the former creatively animating the latter from his sovereign position:
The difference between international politics as it actually is and a
rational theory derived from it is like the difference between a
photograph and a painted portrait. The photograph shows every-
thing that can been seen by the naked eye; the painted portrait does
not show everything that can be seen by the naked eye, but it shows,
or at least seeks to show, one thing that the naked eye cannot see: the
human essence of the person portrayed.77
To be sure, this sovereign is a rational and impartial spectator when
it comes to the relations of particular states, but since he himself is
situated within the system of representation, he is blind to its con-
ditions of possibility, to the unthought premises of his own enterprise;
and perhaps must remain so, in order to remain sovereign within and
over the corresponding field of empirical knowledge called inter-
national political theory.
Macrosociology and the empiricity of sovereignty
Moving the deconstructive inquiry into the multicausal terrain of
contemporary macrosociology, we are bound to discover two things:
the lack of overall theoretical coherence in the field, and the recent
effort to 'bring the state back in' as a unit of analysis after some decades
of behaviouralist neglect.78
Perhaps this renewed interest in the state as an autonomous yet
problematic political actor can be viewed as a simultaneous quest for
theoretical and subdisciplinary integration; this possibility is partly to
be explored in this section. More importantly, however, this reproble-
matization of the state implies to some extent a reversal of the con-
ception of sovereignty fostered by international political theory;
macrosociology purports to explain precisely that which is taken for
granted by the latter. The sovereign state is no longer present as an
ontologically unproblematic and primitive entity; it demands a con-
ceptual elucidation and an empirical account of its actual formation in
time, of its consolidation and transformation in the European context
as well as globally.
35
Thus, sovereignty is no longer something empirically or tran-

scendentally given, but something contingent upon historical forces;
those very aspects of sovereignty whose constancy is taken for granted
by international political theory are now dependent variables. Simply
stated, by virtue of its conceptual and empirical task, macrosociology
displaces the conceptual order of international political theory by
turning it outside-in. Chronologically, we find ourselves moving from
a past to a present, rather than conversely. Geographically, we witness
the global expansion of the state system, and do not regard it as an
ahistorical presence.
Starting at the most basic ontological level, most macrosociological
accounts of state formation subvert the hierarchy between the dom-
estic and the international which is implicit in international political
theory. In the latter, the domestic realm is treated as prior to and
constitutive of the international sphere. A prior concentration of
power - a monopoly on the legitimate use of violence - is a defining
property of the sovereign state, is present right from the start and gives
rise to the other, in which this essential condition of order is absent. In
international political theory, the external corollary of sovereignty -
international anarchy - is defined in terms of absence resulting from the
prior presence of the sovereign state; ethically, the positivity of the state
is negativity to the international; everything which is dear to man
resides inside states, while the outside is marked by the lack of the
same traits, and thus rendered inferior in relation to its origin.
The problem confronted by macrosociologists when explaining the
source of sovereignty is analogous to the problem confronted by
international political theorists when supplying the baseline fact of
sovereignty with ideological justification: that which is defined as
absence must be turned into presence. That is, instead of conceptualiz-
ing the international as something derivative of the sovereign state,
and as a structure that is merely a constraint upon the actions of
preconstituted states, macrosociologists are tempted to account for the
presence of the sovereign state in terms of generative structural
features of a sphere of social action that is thought to exist prior to the
state.
The necessity of this conceptual reversal brings us right into the core
of 'the conflict tradition' in macrosociology,79 in which the formation
and consolidation of states ultimately are explained with reference to
exogenous dynamics and their external relations with each other.
When accounting for the origins of the empirical features of sover-
36
eignty, this means giving logical and chronological priority to the

notion of society as a kind of anarchical condition, out of which the
state emerges as a gradual concentration of power.
To Engels, the clash between conflicting economic interests in the
absence of overarching authority is the source of power concentration
in the social body:
[I]n order that these antagonisms, classes with conflicting economic
interests, shall not consume themselves and society in fruitless
struggle, a power, apparently standing above society, has become
necessary to moderate the conflict and keep it within the bounds of
'order'; and this power arisen out of society, but placing itself above it
and increasingly alienating itself from it, is the state.80
Less deterministic in his account of the formation of political commu-
nities, Weber regards the very differentiation between outside and
inside as something contingent upon the forces of history, but cannot
do away with this distinction at the level of definition; what is to be
explained has to be presupposed. To Weber, even if '[v]iolent social
action is something absolutely primordial', 'the monopolization of
legitimate violence by the political-territorial association and its
rational consociation into an institutional order' is not.81 At its first and
most primitive stage, the 'forcible maintenance of orderly dominion
over a territory and its inhabitants' is not necessarily the function of
one and the same community, but 'external' violence and 'internal'
domination are distributed among various powers. In the maintenance
of dominion over a territory, the action of the community is intermit-
tent, and 'flares up in response to external threat or to an internal
sudden impulse to violence'.82 Consequently, at this stage, what is
'inside' and what is 'outside' is in the eyes of the beholder, not in the
understanding of the agents themselves.
The crucial step towards legitimization of violence comes when it is
both fitted into a permanent structure, gradually monopolized and
concentrated to a single locus of authority, and simultaneously func-
tions as a continuous means of differentiation between insiders and
outsiders; in short, when this distinction becomes a living reality, and
consequently, stripped of quotation marks in Weber's text:
If the idea of a specific legitimacy of violence is connected with any
type of consensual action, it is with that of the kinship group in the
fulfilment of the obligation of blood vengeance. This connection is
weak ... with regard to organizational action of a military type,
directed against an external enemy, or of a policy type, directed
37
against the disturbers of internal order. It becomes more clearly

perceptible, when a territorial association is attacked by an external
enemy in its traditional domain, and arms are taken up by the
members in the manner of a home guard. Increasing rational precau-
tions against such eventualities may engender a political organi-
zation enjoying a particular legitimacy.83
A similar dialectic of conflict is invoked by Elias, who - more than

Engels and Weber - is inclined to regard political factors as autono-
mous when explaining the sociogenesis of the state:
A human figuration in which a relatively large number of units, by
virtue of the power at their disposal, are in competition tends to
deviate from this state of equilibrium (many balanced by many;
relatively free competition) and to approach a different state in which
fewer and fewer units are able to compete; in other words it
approaches a situation in which one social unit attains through
accumulation a monopoly of the contended power chances.84
These themes are repeated by modern macrosociologists. If the state

was formed out of a prior state of conflict and war, subsequent state
consolidation is also explained with explicit or implicit reference to this
anarchy or order void, and with its concomitant sublimation to the
international level; bringing the state back in means carving this
anarchy out as a given and irreducible structural context, which in
some guise or another is present from the alleged historical origin of
the state onwards. With the more recent words of Hintze:
[T]he state is not merely a government internally but a sovereign
power externally. Throughout history power has been the main
goal of the activities of the state; hence its structure depends at
least as much on the conditions of its external power position as
on the social-structural conditions of its internal governing
activity.85
When it comes to actual historical accounts, the standard assump-

tion of a state of nature helps to explain not only why states were
formed, but also why a return to the lost primordial unity became
impossible, and how this anarchy is reproduced and transposed in the
process of state consolidation:
[T]he very presence of multiple contenders for power, mutually
aware and relatively equal in strength, promoted a process of consoli-
dation by means of shifting coalitions among geographically concen-
trated elites, made it likely that more than one such process would be
38
going on at a time, and hampered any effort either to impose an
authority without contiguous territory or to subordinate a large part
of Europe to a single authority.86
Once brought into being by the fragmentation of Christian unity,
the decentralized political structure in Europe enabled a condensation
of otherness in the shape of the sovereign state. Following this logic,
order springs out of disorder, presence out of absence; the consoli-
dation of states coincides with the emergence of an international
sphere, which then takes on explanatory priority. Thus, explanations
of change in modern states must give 'primacy to international dyna-
mics',87 by conceptualizing the state as 'part of a system of compering
and mutually involved states'.88
When it comes to the locus problem, we can discern how the state
grows out of anarchy, and establishes itself as a relatively autonomous
agent, but whose ultimate locus is contingent upon the forces of
historical development, taking us from kings to people. However
structuralist the explanation of this process, the assumption of some
prior agency - however mute or embryonic - is ontologically neces-
sary, be it 'small groups of power-hungry men'89 or 'warrior families'.90
Whether resulting from the activities of megalomaniacs or from the
gradual socialization of structural dopes, the story of state formation is
the story of how power concentration and personalized sovereignty
result from the victorious competition of this logical ancestor of the
sovereign; his conquest of land and wealth and his subjugation of
populations within the primordial condition of anarchy are essential
steps in the formative process. As we reach modernity, however,
power concentration gives way to power dispersion; the transfer of
sovereignty from kings to people, whether carried out by gradual
reform or by social revolution, is portrayed as a gradual consolidation
of states, to a large extent dependent on forces in the emergent
international system.91
Furthermore, and irrespective of the degree of structuralist bias,
every theory of state formation 'must refer consistently to a particular
kind of unit',92 in order to qualify as an empirical theory. That is, an
acting subject must be present in order to constitute itself and the state
as an 'inside' that remains identical with itself throughout the forma-
tive process, no matter how it is conditioned by 'outside' forces in the
course of its historical development from embryo to full-blown state.
Hence, the particular kind of unit which makes empirical reference
possible is a more or less rational will, individual or collective; according
39
to the stories of the transfer of sovereignty from kings to people, both
the king and the people have a fair share in this common essence of
the state, which is also the essence of Man. Ultimately, from the
formation of the state to its consolidation, it is the presence of Man
within it which makes the state intelligible as an agent.
If the locus of sovereignty cannot be accounted for without refer-
ence to a primordial subject, neither can its scope be explained without
reference to something more basic and primitive. The scope of sover-
eignty, representing the objective aspect of the state, is not socio-
logically intelligible without reference to something that allegedly
exists prior to sovereignty, for it would otherwise remain empty; to
macrosociology, the questions of locus and scope are logically indis-
soluble.
When it comes to defining the object of inquiry, macrosociologists in
general seem to agree that the state ultimately consists of military
control over a territory.93 This agreement brings us back to the
chicken-and-egg relation between sovereignty and space stumbled
upon earlier in the context of international political theory, but with
the important difference that this radical inconclusiveness now is
transposed from the conceptual to the empirical level.
Since it is imperative for macrosociology to elaborate empirically the
relationship between the locus of sovereignty and its spatial scope in
actual accounts of state formation, we could hopefully expect this
elaboration to yield general assumptions about the spatialization of
politics and the politicization of space, whereas this relationship is not
logically closed as in international political theory. That is, the cumula-
tive chain of possible man-space configurations outlined in the pre-
vious section, beginning with space as a physical fact and ending with
geopolitical ideology, enters macrosociology as a historically mutable
series of relationships in conjunction with the actual formation and
gradual consolidation of states, rather than as a series of connotations
ahistorically attributed to the concept of territory, whose prior politici-
zation then is tacitly taken for granted.
Moreover, since macrosociologists frequently seek to demonstrate
that war made the state (in the anarchical condition thought to
precede it) and the state made war (in the international system emerg-
ing out of it), macrosociology must be able to explain how space
became politicized. Such an explanation ought to take us from the fact
that any human configuration occupies a portion of space, to the
historical and political coincidence that space became the stage where
40
the politics of state formation took place as a struggle for space itself.
Revealing this secret of territoriality is a necessary task, since 'the
concept of territory seems to cover something more than just a piece of
land on which people live', and since it seems generally valid that 'the
state and its subdivisions are organized as territories'.94
In the European context, the crucial leap from space as a physical
prerequisite to territoriality as the principle of the sovereign state is
often explained as the result of a prehistorical cultural transition. It is
the prevalence of peasantry or the absence of nomadism in some
rather arbitrary 'beginning of history' that ultimately conditions the
possibility of states organized as territories.95 The modes of production
and the forms of life that come with the predominance of agriculture
pave the way for the firm empirical connection between territory,
wealth and power that is essential to state formation. Though a
recurrent theme in historical materialism,96 this essential connection
was also captured by Elias:
The house that rules a territory politically is at the same time by far
therichesthouse in this territory, with the largest area of land; and its
political power diminishes if its military power, stemming from the
size of its domanial revenues and the number of bondsmen or
retainers, does not exceed that of all other warrior families within its
territory.97
Once staged, this materialist drama of mutual reinforcement
between territory and power, between the spatialization of politics
and the politicization of space, leads to the rise of the state as a
territorially organized unit. But what comes first in this rather elliptical
chain of development seems theoretically undecidable, unless we
quite uncritically assume some exogenous shock in the dawn of state-
hood, lifting European man up from some primitive form of life to a
more developed stage of spatial politics. There seems to be no space for
nomads in macrosociology, neither literally, nor metaphorically.
An analogous inconclusiveness arises in macrosociological accounts
of the conceptual and empirical relationship between the locus of
sovereignty and its social scope; the division of the drama of state
formation into stages presupposes a conceptual reversibility between
'state' and 'society', which is reflected in the theoretical text. As noted
above, most accounts of state formation start from the assumption that
society is chronologically and ontologically prior to the state appara-
tus; this is necessarily the case when the genesis of the latter is
explained in terms of the internal relations holding in the former.
41
Thus, since any reconstruction of the formative process must be

guided by a generative logic in order to remain coherent and non-
circular, the prior presence of some kind of society is ontologically
necessary. Up to this point, macrosociology must remain at least
implicitly structuralist in order to furnish a continuation of contractual
myth by empirical means.
Beyond this arbitrary point of birth, the emergent state apparatus
takes on 'autonomy' in relation to society, and simultaneously gains
the upper hand according to macrosociological accounts of its sub-
sequent development. What it means when the mode of reconstruc-
tion ceases to be guided by a generative logic and shifts to the repro-
ductive or transformative modes, is that the explanatory privilege is
redistributed to the state from the structure out of which it emerged.
At the moment when 'formation' gives way to 'consolidation', sover-
eignty is constituted as 'inside' and the state becomes an agent; from
here on, consolidation takes on meaning as a process of domestication
carried out by an autonomous agent, turning society from a generative
anarchical structure into a docile social body.
Above all, accounts of state consolidation in terms of social trans-
formation are stories of how the power of the state apparatus is
secured and legitimacy gradually created through the ethnic, religious,
linguistic and cultural homogenization of a subject population, thus
lifting society out of anarchic plurality and into orderly cohesion.
Furthermore, this mutual reinforcement between hegemonization and
homogenization is considered to originate in the state apparatus itself;
it is the cumulative result of an autonomous state responding to the
dual pressures of popular resistance from within and security
struggles from without.98
This staging of the state drama into phases of 'formation' and
'consolidation' seems to be theoretically inevitable if the macrosociolo-
gical plot is to remain coherent. At the imagined end point of the
formative process, when the state eventually is constituted as self-
identical inside thanks to outside forces, the theoretical vantage point
is transferred to this inside. All further changes in the state, including
the step towards popular sovereignty once a strategically acceptable
level of homogeneity has been attained in the social body, will neces-
sarily be reconstructed from the point of view of an autonomous state:
a rational inside coping with problems on the outside, coming from the
international system or from pockets of resistance within the territory
to be domesticated.
42
It is as if the undecidability between the concepts of state and society

is made possible by a necessary tension between agency and structure,
a tension which is reproduced by the explanation itself; we cannot
'refer consistently' to both state and society without switching recon-
structive mode from formation to consolidation. Bringing the state
back in means that the underlying ontological tension between subject
and structure is resolved by being distributed in a chronology of
stages.
In this section, I have consistently sought to reach beyond epistemic
discord and lack of overall coherence within the field, and focused on
the troubled logical and ontological relationship between what is to be
explained and what is assumed in order to explain; it seems as if the
discourse of empirical macrosociology destabilizes itself as a result of
its quest for a foundation and its need to refer consistently to an
ambiguous and changing object: the state. It is as if the empiricity of
this object betrays its own promise; one must begin by assuming the
essential identity of precisely that which the discourse itself has to
explain as to its essence, and simultaneously never decide definitively
the essence of that which one invests with explanatory power: the
mytho-anarchic and societal backdrop against which the state is
formed. Bringing the state back in as something scientifically problem-
atic necessarily entails that this outside takes on unproblematic pres-
ence in the explanatory scheme: the price has somewhere to be paid
for a disciplinary identity centred on the theoretical identity of the
object to be investigated.
This incommensurability should not be interpreted as a sign of
intellectual immaturity. Rather, it is the aim of empirical science itself
that gives rise to conceptual indecisiveness and ontological tension; as
soon as one decides to investigate something, one has to take other
things for granted. The peculiarity of macrosociology resides in the
fact that what is at one moment regarded as basic turns out to be
problematic in the next; it may well suffer a certain structural
inconsistency in its ontological and methodological decisions, but
need not be hampered by this in its quest for valid propositions about
the empirical realities of the sovereign state. When all is said and done,
it is not the task of deconstruction to block this ambition.
When it comes to the empirical nature of the sovereign state, the
perspective provided by macrosociology is the reverse of that offered
by international political theory, and, as long as an empirical under-
standing of both the state and the international system is wanted, a
43
necessary complement to it. Textually, the perspective of macro-

sociology is less that of the statesman, but more that of the citizen
accounting for his own existence within the state as the legitimate heir
to royal and personalized sovereignty. As a rational subject, he partici-
pates in the subjective and indivisible will of the state, but at the same
time he is estranged from it, looking into it and its conflict-filled
prehistory from a point outside it, from the mytho-anarchic outside
out of which he himself has emerged or escaped. This perspective
invites dreams of transcendence or emancipation: the state is the result
of crime organized on a huge scale, propelled by massive violence. But
so is the citizen-spectator himself, since he is a modality of the same
historically determined subjectivity; his estrangement is only partial,
and he cannot be emancipated completely from this iron cage of
modern sovereignty, without, as it were, simultaneously losing know-
ledge of himself.
What was a dependent variable to international political theory was
an independent variable to macrosociology, and conversely, what if
we let everything vary by attempting a synthesis of these two
approaches to modern sovereignty? Doing this will require a prior
resolution of the incommensurability between international political
theory and macrosociology, which amounts to a settling of the conflict
between agency and structure which animates it. In the next section, I
shall evaluate this promise of a synthesis between these fields and
concepts in order to see how it affects the concept of sovereignty.
Structuration theory and the mystery of sovereignty
As I have tried to demonstrate, the incommensurability between the
two concepts of sovereignty contrasted above is parasitic upon an
essential ontological tension, which also is reproduced at the empirical
level within each field of knowledge. Either sovereignty is taken to be
a given and essential property of the state that constitutes its unitary
and indivisible character; in this case, the inside takes on ontological
priority in relation to the outside; the existence of the international
proper is dependent on the internal sovereignty of states. Or, conver-
sely, internal sovereignty is contingent upon something structurally
prior to it, something which is transposed to a higher level in the
course of state consolidation. Here sovereignty grows out of absence,
and the inside is constituted from the outside.
A third, essentially dual view of sovereignty can be derived from
attempts to cope with the ontological lacuna between agency and
44
structure in both international political theory and macrosociology."

In the attempt to graft structuration theory or scientific realism onto
the field of international political theory, theorists have typically
departed from what they take to be an undisputed truth about all
political and social life, irrespective of the level of complexity where it
takes place: political or social reality is composed of two kinds of stuff -
human agency and social structure - which should be kept ontologi-
cally and epistemically distinct, yet conceptualized as interdependent
categories, each susceptible to different but complementary forms of
explanation.100
What has been at stake in this debate is the possibility of mingling an
account of the sovereign state as an agent with an account of the
international system and its structure, thus bridging the gap between
international political theory and macrosociology. Bringing these
levels of analysis closer together requires that they are conceptualized
as mutually conditioning right from the start, thus splitting the
ontological difference between them. Contrary to the ontological indi-
vidualism of international political theory, a structurationist theory of
international politics cannot treat the presence of the sovereign state as
something unproblematic; the state, along with all its defining prop-
erties, is generated by structural forces or constituted out of a set of
internal relations holding in the system as a whole, which both enable
and constrain all further state action. Contrary to structuralist macro-
sociology, however, this generative structure cannot be conceptua-
lized as a mysterious presence existing independently of state agency.
This is not the place to probe deeply into the solutions to this
problem resorted to by structuration theory and scientific realism.
Suffice it to note here that their reconceptualization of structure
amounts to defining it as a set of rules which serves as both medium
and outcome of state agency. Thus, the international system is concep-
tualized in terms of constitutive and regulative rules, which condition
the possibility of state action and are reproduced or transformed as a
combined result of the intended and unintended consequences of
state practices. The existence of the international system is thus
dependent on the actual practices of states, and these practices are
made possible by the system itself.101
Not surprisingly, this effort at a theoretical synthesis has had pro-
found impact on the conceptualization of sovereignty. As a con-
sequence of the rejection of ontological individualism, it is evident that
sovereignty can no longer be understood as the timeless essence of the
45
state, since it is precisely the capacity for unified agency and the
homogeneous interior presumed by its use in international political
theory that are rendered problematic by structurationism and scientific
realism. In the words of Giddens: 'The sovereignty of the nation-state
... does not precede the development of the European state system, or
the transferral of the nation-state to a global plane ... the development
of the sovereignty of the modern state from its beginnings depends
upon reflexively monitored sets of relations between states.'102 From
this two claims follow:
'International relations' are not connections set up between pre-
established states, which could maintain their sovereign power
without them: they are the basis upon which the nation-state exists at
all.103
[T]he 'actor-like' qualities of modern states have to be understood in
terms of the specific characteristics of the nation-state rather than
being taken as a pre-given baseline for the study of international
relations.104
Interpreted in isolation, the above statements seem to point in
macrosociological-structuralist direction. But this is not the whole
story. As a consequence of this reconceptualization of structure, sover-
eignty can no longer be understood as a factual condition emerging ex
nihilo from an anterior absence, from a political void lying there
waiting to be populated by sovereign entities. To Giddens, a structure
is a set of historically contingent and mutable rules, whose genesis and
reproduction in turn are dependent on agency. Thus, 'the very term
"international" only has full meaning with the emergence of nation-
states which, because of their strictly demarcated character, give a very
particular shape to "internal" versus "external" relations'.105
Therefore, and as an essential step in the structurationist endeavour
to split the ontological difference between the state and the inter-
national system, sovereignty is taken to be constitutive of both
spheres, hovering somewhere between them, but residing in neither.
Turned into the most basic constitutive rule of modern politics, sover-
eignty now carries the double burden of constituting two realms of
politics simultaneously. As Giddens has remarked, 'the juxtaposition
of 'order' and 'anarchy' ... is intrinsic to the conception of sover-
eignty', this being 'one of the most important elements binding the
'internal' development of the state with the 'external' solidifying of the
state system'.106
46
Thus, viewed as an organizing principle situated in the very deep

structure of modern politics, sovereignty takes on a life of its own in
order to connect the emergence of a reflexively monitored state system
with the formation of the nation-state as the dominant political form of
life in the modern world. Sovereignty is ontologically disconnected
from the spheres it constitutes as separate, but it also serves as the
crucial link between them: without 'external' sovereignty, no 'internal'
sovereignty, and conversely. As such, sovereignty furnishes the dom-
estic and the international with a common historical origin and fixed
chronological limits, which conditions their interdependent existence
dialectically; they are constituted as separate by their inter-
dependence, and interdependent only by virtue of their separation.
Within this view, 'a state cannot become sovereign except within a
system of other sovereign states, its sovereignty being acknowledged
by them'.107 Perhaps we could add as a matter of clarification: a system
of sovereign states cannot exist without being intersubjectively
acknowledged as such by its constituent parts. Sovereignty, taken as a
constitutive rule, is both medium and outcome of the internal as well
as the external practices of states; it furnishes the very divide between
what is internal and what is external with meaning, and thus with
political reality for the agents themselves, whose identity in turn
hinges on this division.
The synthesis advocated by structurationists and scientific realists
not only holds out the hope of resolving conceptual conflicts within
existing fields of knowledge. It also makes the breaching of disci-
plinary boundaries look virtuous, since it promises to settle the ontolo-
gical differences underlying their compartmentalization into distinct
fields. What makes this promise look attractive is the quite naive
assumption that the way a problem in political philosophy is formula-
ted is independent of the way in which solutions to it are presented. The
general incommensurability between agency and structure, first ele-
vated into a problem of imperial proportions by structurationists, is
then opened to a glorious peace-by-interdependence between con-
flicting concepts and estranged fields of knowledge. From a decon-
structive viewpoint, however, it is the 'undisputed truth' underlying
the 'agent-structure problem' that is the real problem, since it is the
former which makes the latter look like a chicken-and-egg debate. To
say that all social and political life is ultimately composed of two kinds
of stuff is simply to presuppose that essence is essential to social and
political theory. Ontological questions invariably yield ontological
47
answers, since they drag the political philosopher into a quest for firm
foundations and proper origins. Starting with the assumption that
agency and structure are radically different in essence, which it is
necessary to do in order to depict all prior theoretical efforts to wrestle
with this conceptual zero-sum game as vain, the structurationist then
solves his problem by pointing to the fact that what is different always
shares one thing in common, namely, the fact of being different.
At this point, the 'agent-structure' debate seems to deconstruct itself;
being centred on the quest for essence, it pushes us back in an infinite
series of reversals. Whenever a structure is identified, its existence is
conditioned by a prior agency, which in turn is made possible by yet
another structure, and so forth. However far back we push in this
series in search of a foundation, what appears as essential will always
prove to be supplementary, in a way that deprives it of the authority of
ontological simplicity. The attempted synthesis tries to overcome the
same ontological difference that nourishes it: if the problem could be
solved, the solution must also indicate that there was no problem in
the first place.
The reconceptualization of sovereignty that comes with the structu-
rationist effort to relate the domestic inside and the international
outside can be regarded as symptomatic of the quest for essence that
governs it. The very problem that the conceptualization of sovereignty
in relational terms hopes to solve, merely crops up again at a more
certain depth, but now beyond the reach of critical concepts. To say
that sovereignty is constitutive with respect to both the domestic and
the international by being that which makes the internal internal and
the external external, is either to turn sovereignty into an agency that
structures or a structure that acts; in both cases the original problem is
restored.
Ironically, the structurationist and scientific realist promise to put an
end to reification in the social sciences by abolishing talk of ghostly
structures and preconstituted agents ends up in the reification of
sovereignty itself, without any possibility of explaining how sover-
eignty entered into the mysterious deep structure of modern politics.
Sovereignty ends up being dialectically foundational both to the exist-
ence of a domestic inside and an international outside, and yet itself
unfounded; it is the condition of possibility of itself.
As I shall conclude in the next section, sovereignty has no essence; if
we want to take its relational character seriously, we must abandon the
quest for timeless foundations and essences in political philosophy,
48
and instead venture to explain how this talk of forces, origins and
foundations made its way into political knowledge together with the
modern concept of sovereignty, and became stuck in logical inter-
dependence with it. If we are to understand the concept of sovereignty
historically, the problem is not so much a matter of what sovereignty is,
as it is a matter of what this is has come to mean to the modern political
scientist.
The parergonality of sovereignty
The primary objective of this chapter was to deconstruct the concept of
sovereignty by determining its place in two wider conceptual contexts;
this was done by identifying the ontological, epistemic and ideological
assumptions that governed its intelligibility in those contexts.
This deconstructive analysis was undertaken as a means of approach-
ing the problem of its meaning and reference from another angle than
conceptual analysis. Scientific meaning and empirical reference pre-
suppose the presence of something outside language, whose investi-
gation in turn demands a language purified from ambiguity; definition
becomes worthwhile only if we presuppose an order of things separ-
ate from signs, whether axiomatic or empirical.
Empirical science hinges on the presence of an object; it has to be
about something whose presence it thereby asserts. Typically, a decon-
structive strategy yields answers uncomfortable to those who need
this solid ground under their feet; asking what a given discourse is
inclined to regard as essential, original and foundational, and what
this discourse regards as derivative and supplementary does not con-
tribute to the science itself. But it contributes to the analysis of the
unthought parts of this knowledge; to an analysis of that which 'goes
without saying' within a theoretical or empirical field of study.
When one moves back in the structured order of concept that a
science employs when bestowing identity upon its object of study, one
follows a genealogical path immanent in this science itself; any science
which aspires to be empirical invariably involves silent presuppo-
sitions about the reality which it depicts, assumptions resulting from a
history of incremental methodological decisions.
Posing the questions of the source, locus and scope of sovereignty
within the fields of international political theory and macrosociology,
we were able to witness how these discourses yield answers which are
both ontologically unstable and sometimes also ideologically satur-
ated; at the same time, these two fields of knowledge stand as mirror-
49
images to each other. What the one takes for granted, the other
renders problematic; what was conceptually undecidable within the
one, was empirically undecidable within the other. What they share in
common, however, are two interrelated things whose emergence and
interrelationship are to be explored in chapter 6: they both presuppose
the possibility of representation and the sovereignty of Man as the subject
of this representation, whether in the shape of the detached,
statesman-like spectator of international politics, or the more
entangled, king-like citizen of macrosociology.
In either case, the sense given to sovereignty in the conceptual order
was intertwined with the ontological starting point, and the same
incommensurability which separates these fields from one another,
also draws them together as instances of empirical science. They both
have to confront the problems of subject and structure, genesis and
transformation; they both, together with the structurationist attempt
to mediate between their basic viewpoints, must presuppose 'a line in
water'108 separating the domestic inside from the international
outside, a prior demarcation which conditions the possibility of their
dialectical interdependence.
As Aron has argued, 'statesmen, citizens, philosophers have always
recognized a difference in nature between the internal order of states
and the order between states'.109 The examples from international
political theory and macrosociology seem to corroborate this view; the
line in water is always drawn at the level of definition, aided by an
array of metaphors and ideological presuppositions; this is what Wight
once called the intellectual prejudice of the sovereign state.110 How,
then, is the line in water drawn, whenever it manifests itself in
theoretical discourse or political practice?
In the present chapter, the answer is fairly obvious; the line in water
is drawn in and by the quest for ontological presence which is the
condition of possibility of empirical knowledge. As soon as a field of
knowledge is to be demarcated, conceptual oppositions are there to do
the job by marking off what is present and foundational from what is
supplementary or derivative; it is in this role that the concept of
sovereignty becomes crucial both to the organization of political reality
and to the organization of knowledge of this reality.
Central yet ambiguous, the concept of sovereignty not only assures
a continuity between inside and outside, but a simultaneous conti-
nuity between knowledge and reality. The concept of sovereignty is
both empirical and transcendental; it tells us how to differentiate
50
between different domains of study, while at the same time being the
condition of possibility of these domains.
As such, sovereignty has no essence, since it is what makes different
spheres of politics empirically representable and intelligible; as soon as
we start to demand that the concept of sovereignty should refer to
something present in the world of empirical beings, our understand-
ing of the concept itself must presuppose the same line in water which
is drawn in and through its meaningful use in political discourse.
Thus, if we want to make sense of sovereignty - logically as well as
historically - and then as something which lies between the domestic
and the international spheres of politics without itself being a myster-
ious prior essence, we should pay attention to the internal connections
between sovereignty and knowledge. Since contemporary political
knowledge seems to take for granted that we more or less rigorously
can distinguish what is inside the state from what is outside the state,
the agenda of research perhaps ought to be expanded to cover this
very discourse of demarcation.
As I have tried to demonstrate in this chapter, the line in water that
separates inside from outside is drawn by a series of decisions about
what is a priori undecidable. These decisions are decisions on sover-
eignty in both the epistemic and political senses of the word. The
discourse on sovereignty - whether empirical or transcendental - has
as its prime function to frame objects of inquiry by telling us what they
are not. In this sense, the problem of sovereignty resembles the
problem of the parergon in aesthetic discourse. Present in ancient
writings on art, the concept of parergon was reintroduced by Kant
when discussing a problem analogous to that of sovereignty; what is
the relation of a frame or an ornament to the work of art itself and its
background?111
The solution goes as follows: a frame, a line of demarcation, an
ontological divide, or a geographical or chronological boundary all
assert and manifest class membership of phenomena, but the frame or
line itself cannot be a member of either class. It is neither inside, nor
outside, yet it is the condition of possibility of both. A parergon does not
exist in the same sense as that which it helps to constitute; there is a
ceaseless activity of framing, but the frame itself is never present, since
it is itself unframed.112
As such, a frame is a composite of inside and outside, it is 'an outside
which is called inside the inside to constitute it as inside'.113 And
conversely: it is an inside which is called outside the outside to
51
constitute it as outside. Once brought into being, a parergonal frame

'detaches itself from two backgrounds, but in relation to each it backs
into the other'.114
In our present context, this notion of parergonality provides a clue
to the problems that arise as soon as we start to attribute fixed refer-
ence to the concept of sovereignty, or, by the same token, assume the
ontological presence of sovereignty. There is a discursive practice of
sovereignty, but sovereignty itself is not amenable to empirical poli-
tical research, however much essentialist conviction we retain about its
power to organize political reality. Yet we speak and theorize as if it
did: its function in political discourse can only be properly understood
if we detach the concept of sovereignty from the implicit ontological
concern of contemporary knowledge, and, so to speak, move it to a
non-place. If we succeed in this, our analysis of sovereignty will no
longer presuppose that the line in water between the domestic and the
international has already been drawn, but will instead help us to
explain how it is drawn and perpetually redrawn inside knowledge, and
how, subsequently, the domestic and the international are discursively
constituted as self-evident.115
Interpreted as a parergon, the concept of sovereignty will no longer
expend its dual energy erasing the line in water without making it
intelligible; it will help to explain the formation of the very body of
knowledge which makes this division as evident as it makes the
concept of sovereignty difficult to understand.
As I shall argue in the rest of this book, the discourse on sovereignty
functions according to the same logic as the parergon, but what is
constituted as inside and outside respectively, varies dramatically
throughout the history of political ideas, and does so in strict inter-
dependence with changes in knowledge. As I shall attempt to show,
the juxtaposition of the domestic and the international as we know it
today is a fairly recent and essentially modern construct, following
from a specific parergonal function attributed to the concept of sover-
eignty by a likewise specific arrangement of modern knowledge.
52
Beyond subject and structure:
towards a genealogy of sovereignty
[A]s long as we continue to contrast history directly with structure,

we persist in believing that the subject can gather, build up and unify
matter. But this no longer holds true if we think of 'epochs' or
historical formations as multiplicities. The latter escape from both the
reign of the subject and the empire of structure.
Deleuze, Foucault
The previous chapter started out from a Nietzschean observation: only
that which has no history can be defined. But how can we write a
history of that which cannot be defined, lacks stable meaning and
reference, and which does not exist except by being known, and then
within a knowledge which presupposes the sovereignty of the
knowing subject?
As I shall argue in this chapter, to write a history of sovereignty is to
write a political history of the knowledges that makes sovereignty
intelligible, a history of the unthought parts of our political under-
standing. Strictly speaking, the object of study is therefore held in
suspense; as with histories of other central and ambiguous concepts, a
history of sovereignty must be a history without fixed referent, since it
is precisely a history of this referent and its formation in time. A history
of sovereignty cannot be written from the initial assumption of a
timeless ontology and unchanging epistemology; precisely as the
history of space cannot be anything but a history of geometries and the
history of Being cannot be anything but a history of Western meta-
physics,1 so a history of sovereignty cannot be but a history of the
epistemic discontinuities, conceptual reversals and changing meta-
phors that breathe life into political philosophy, and animate the
discourse on sovereignty.
Consequently, a history of sovereignty cannot begin by separating
53
the sovereign state from its international outside, for it must be capable
of accounting for the formation of the domestic and the international
as imposed interpretations which organize modern political reality as
well as our understanding of that reality as empirically given or
analytically evident. Thus, a history of sovereignty must be a history of
how and by what means this kind of differentiation into inside and
outside, into sameness and otherness, is carried out. It must be a
history of how sovereignty, in its modern guise, becomes both an
empirical and a transcendental concept.
In chapter 1,1 said that this book was intended as a genealogy of
sovereignty, and elaborated some of the core assumptions behind a
genealogical approach to the history of political ideas. In this chapter, I
shall spell out these assumptions more fully, and argue that genealogy
is crucial if we are going to answer the basic questions about sover-
eignty raised in chapters 1 and 2.
Histories of the past as outside stories

In his Untimely Meditations,2 Nietzsche raises an important question:
what is the use of history? In the particular context in which this
question was posed, its point was directed at the dominant - yet
superficially opposed - trends in German historiography of that time:
Hegelian idealism and Rankean source criticism;3 against history as
the gradual unfolding of Reason and history as something capable of
attaining the status of objective science. His answer was that the
historian's history always has more to do with the present than with
the past. The young Nietzsche identified three distinct modes of
historical reconstruction, all of them reflecting specific present needs
and hopes for the future; writing a history of the past is a way of
rendering the present meaningful as well as a strategy for making the
future look more promising or more gloomy.
Today similar concerns are reflected in what looks like an emergent
orthodoxy in the history of ideas, most notably by writers such as
Dunn,4 Pocock5 and Skinner6 - the methodology of the latter I shall
consider at length below - and sociologists of knowledge such as
Barnes, Bloor, Manicas and Rosenberg.7 The main issue has been how
to avoid the twin fallacies of finalism and presentism respectively
without lapsing into what they fear to be complete arbitrariness.8
Bearing in mind that we are here dealing with philosophical and
historiographical paradigms rather than with manifestations in con-
54
Beyond subject and structure
crete historical research, it is possible to simplify the difference
between presentism and finalism. If both hold out the possibility of a
terra firma from which to study and write history, they differ about
where to locate it. Typically, a finalist history is a history of the past in
terms of an imagined future; a presentist history is a history of the past
in terms of the present. A finalist history treats the present as a
projection of the past, by projecting a version of that past onto the
present, whereas a presentist history regards the past as a projection of
the present, by projecting a version of this present onto the past.9
Underlying this problem is a metahistorical conflict. On the one
hand, historians of ideas or sociologists of knowledge are in want of a
suprahistorical vantage point from which history can be written, vali-
dated, judged and criticized with a claim to truth or verisimilitude. On
the other, no one would deny that human beings are historical beings,
and ultimately the only agents in history, which makes them indisso-
luble parts of it. But being determined and conditioned by history,
how can we ever hope to reconstruct and evaluate it from a point
outside it? Man seems to occupy the ambiguous position of being
within history, yet he simultaneously stands outside it and contem-
plates its unfolding.
What is at stake here is the question of man's sovereignty over his
past. Both finalist and presentist history can be interpreted as two
paradigmatic forms of this quest for sovereignty over the past; both
finalism and presentism affirm the possibility of writing history from a
point over and above it, while making man the hero within it. In their
joint affirmation of a suprahistorical vantage point, presentism and
finalism are arguably two sides of the same eighteenth-century coin,
however great their differences may seem in terms of their way of
grasping the relation between past, present and future and their
respective judgement on the possibility of historical truth.
In finalist historiography, it is only possible to write the history of an
age when it has reached maturity or is about to fade; finalism typically
identifies present truths in embryonic form in a distant past, and then
goes on to show the necessity of its progressive development from that
point up to the present. Thus Hegel, in a famous passage on the role of
philosophy in history:
As the thought of the world, it [philosophy] appears only at a time
when actuality has gone through its formative process and attained
its complete stage. This lesson of the concept is necessarily also
apparent from history, that it is only when actuality has reached
55
maturity that the ideal appears as opposite the real and reconstructs
this world, which it has grasped in its substance, in the shape of an
intellectual realm. When philosophy paints its grey in grey, a shape of
life has grown old, and it cannot be rejuvenated, but only recognized,
by the grey in grey of philosophy; the owl of Minerva begins its flight
only with the onset of dusk.10
History is a march forward, undertaken by a transhistorical subject,
starting from a primitive origin and continuing towards the realization
of some end state; what takes place between these points is either
soaked up by the historical spirit, or brushed aside - history itself
continuously differentiates what is central from what is peripheral to
its own development. Everything - including other histories - is put in
its proper place according to the final goal history will attain. Finalist
history is history narrated as a coherent plot and a meaningful attain-
ment of such a goal; if finalist history is rewritten, it is the logical
outcome of the march of history itself, since it has to digest its own
movement infinitely.11
The ultimate purpose of finalist history is the justification of some
ideal, present or future; its Archimedean foothold is in the tran-
scendental. The flight of the owl is coordinated and directed from a
point outside history, or better, from the end of history itself. Since long
a favourite target of empiricist criticism,12 this view of history seems to
be about to regain at least some of its former academic legitimacy, most
notably through superficial readings of Hegel.13
Now the historiography resulting from attempts to rid us of finalism
has arguably fallen prey to the presentist fallacy. Presentism comes
naturally with an insistence on timeless criteria of reconstruction and
validity in history. As soon as such criteria are introduced, as rules of
source criticism or as principles for the subsumption of historical facts
under objective laws, one will inevitably be writing the history of the
past in terms of the present. Since these criteria themselves necessarily
are presumed to be without history, past events and ideas, whenever
they appear to be true or rational to the historian, are explained or
made intelligible with reference to this very rationality or truth,
whereas that which appears to be false or irrational must be accounted
for in causal terms as deviances from the timeless and objective stan-
dards laid down or uncritically accepted by the historian.
Thus, if finalist history uses the past for justificatory purposes, it
does so more or less self-consciously and without being more unjust to
the past than it is to the present. Presentism, on the other hand, finds
56
its justification and foundation outside history in absolute criteria, but

is systematically unjust in its treatment of the past while implicitly
treating the most cherished or seemingly self-evident traits in the
present as timeless. Beliefs and events which cannot be celebrated as
harbingers of this present are seen as the results of human folly and
superstition, while the ideas and practices most dear to the present are
held to be results of rational progress. This present itself has no end
point, and cannot wane or come to a conclusion without a simul-
taneous end to all objectivity and a return to a dark age; the present is
here to stay in the future.
Whiggish history is the characteristic genre of presentist historiogra-
phy.14 It characteristically begins by taking an institution or an idea
from the present together with the contemporary role, function or
purpose presently used to justify that institution or idea, and then
describes its historical development as if this purpose or role had
governed its emergence and transformation right from its origin
onwards. Or, if whiggish history deals with something absent in or
remote from the present, it does so by accounting for that institution or
practice in categories totally foreign to it, as if these understandings
ideally should have been available to the past, were it not for the 'limits
of that age', while neglecting the categories used by the agents in that
past to describe themselves and their own practices and institutions.
Whiggish history hinges on this possibility of re-educating the dead
into Enlightenment dopes, and then engages in a conversation with
these re-educated dead on presumably timeless matters, forcing them
to provide answers to questions that are ours.15 That is, presentism
finds its Archimedean foothold above history; the owl - allegedly shot
down - is now instead firmly fixed in the celestial ceiling, scornfully
contemplating past mistakes in view of present standards blown into
timeless truths; if presentist history happens to be rewritten, then this
is done in the light of new and better historical evidence.16
Now much contemporary philosophy teaches us to be equally sus-
picious about finalist and presentist modes of history.17 They both
narrate history with the aid of a metanarrative, or so a die-hard
post-positivist nominalist sceptic would have it. In response, con-
temporary philosophy has tried to do to presentism what presentism
once did to finalism: to demonstrate that its initial assumptions are
themselves time-bound and therefore contingent. The main outcome
of this anti-foundationalist critique has been an epistemic or concep-
tual relativism, and the subsequent historiographical debate has been
57
one of degrees: how much relativism can the history of ideas afford
without dissolving itself into pure fiction?18
For the sake of criticism and contrast, and in the context of this
historiographical debate, I shall dwell briefly on an influential
attempt to avoid the twin pitfalls of finalism and presentism, and,
hence to write the history of the past in terms of the past. This done, I
shall argue that the very premise of suprahistoricity is a misguided
one, and that it would be better to write a conceptual history of
sovereignty from within history, and then as a history of the present in
terms of its past. I shall use the term genealogy to denote such a
historiography.
The hermeneutics of conflict
Why should one ever bother to study the history of political thought?
Reflecting the anxiety of the traditional political theorist and the
intellectual historian in an era when Anglo-Saxon political thought
was at pains to cross the threshold of empirical science, it became
important to answer this question to those in the endangered species
who began to look like odd antiquarians.19
If the question itself seems blunt, so was the standard reply. As
Skinner's own history of this episode relates, the study of political
thought had to narrow its scope and adjust to then-present concerns
in order to reap institutional benefit from scientific legitimacy. The
standard motive for studying classical political texts was that they
purportedly contained timeless ideas, and by studying past answers to
these perennial questions, we should be able to learn equally timeless
wisdom from them.20 This motive was invariably linked to what was
thought to be the proper focus of the history of political thought: the
'great' texts themselves, and nothing outside them. To suggest that
any knowledge of the context in which they were written would be
necessary for an understanding of them would have been tantamount
to denying that they do contain any timeless elements.21
It is against this backdrop that the hermeneutics of conflict was intro-
duced.22 Skinner - on this point following Gadamer and Collingwood
- starts out by assuming that we are in a predicament of prejudgement
in relation to the past. Our view of history will inevitably be contami-
nated by the unconscious application of paradigms, which dispose us
to reconstruct and evaluate the past in terms of the present:
[The] models and preconceptions in terms of which we unavoidably
organize and adjust our perceptions and thoughts will themselves
58
tend to act as determinants of what we think or perceive. We must

classify in order to understand, and we can only classify the unfami-
liar in terms of the familiar.23
This poses a dilemma for the historian; the predicament of prejud-
gement is as undesirable as it is inescapable. He cannot simply hope to
arrive at a 'pure' understanding of the past, and he is in the 'perpetual
danger of lapsing into historical absurdity' as a result of this applica-
tion of paradigms which 'disguises an essential inapplicability to the
past'.24
On the finalist side of this predicament we find the propensity to
hypostatize political and philosophical doctrines into ghostly entities
with a corresponding narrative written 'as if the fully developed
doctrine was always in some sense immanent in history'. This reifi-
cation of doctrines leads to history in terms of anticipation; a writer is
said to have 'anticipated' some later doctrine or development, which
he arguably could not have intended to do.25 Another finalist fallacy
results from the conflation of past meaning and present significance,
and arises when the retrospective significance of a concept or an idea is
turned into a historical fact of that age. A strange teleology lies at the
core of such narratives: the concept or the idea has to await the future
to acquire its full and proper meaning.26
The presentist historian is disposed to discern conceptual conti-
nuity, and thus to be anachronistic when making sense of past ideas,
by starting out from the expectation that a writer holds a doctrine at
present regarded as constitutive of the matter under investigation,
despite the fact that this doctrine is formulated in terms unavailable to
the writer himself. One is 'reading in' a doctrine which a given writer
could have had no intention to convey. The typical finding of this type
of intellectual history is that the writer under investigation only suc-
ceeded in articulating a given doctrine vaguely, a fact which then is
turned into a matter of reproach. Such history 'is a means to fix one's
own prejudices on to the most charismatic names [and] becomes a
pack of tricks we play on the dead'.27 Another presentist fallacy is to
impute coherence to a given text, reflected in the common desire of
arriving at a unified interpretation by resolving apparent contra-
dictions or discounting entire works which impair the overall coher-
ence of what is thought to be the author's 'system'.28 The last presentist
vice is the worst, and perhaps also the root cause of the others: the
historian may be misguided by his own preconceptions so as to fail to
describe the reference and sense of past statements correctly. There is
59
always a danger that the historian will misuse his vantage point, by
conceptualizing arguments in such a way that its alien elements are
dissolved into an apparent but unwarranted familiarity, thereby
masking some essential inapplicability to the historical material.
All these vices can be found in abundance in histories of the concept
and reality of sovereignty. We have already noted in chapter 3, how
analyses of sovereignty - whether conceptual or empirical - tend to
take for granted the dividing line between internal and external
sovereignty and treat it as a timeless feature of political reality. This is
repeated by historians of ideas who deal directly or indirectly with the
concept of sovereignty over a span of time.
Hinsley, although very sensitive to the flux and details of history,
starts his history of sovereignty with an arguably late-modern defi-
nition of the concept, and then transposes the divide between the
domestic and the international back into the past by organizing his
narrative and its subheadings according to it.29 Onuf, who is partly
excused by the fact that he intends to purvey nothing more than an
'outline of a conceptual history', nevertheless falls prey to the tempta-
tion of definition, and then goes on to list the historical antecedents of
the modern definition without the slightest attention to other contexts
than a factual-historical one.30 Worse still, in the histories exclusively
devoted to the external theory and practice of sovereignty in inter-
national relations the fact that political philosophers before the
modern age had very little to say about international relations is often
lamented.31 Puzzled by this fact, one continues with an analysis of this
silence, instead of reaching the more obvious if not unproblematic
conclusion that there was no 'international' until this concept entered
political discourse towards the end of the eighteenth century. To
Williams32 and Knutsen, who both are under self-imposed pedagogi-
cal constraints, the assumption that there existed something inter-
national in antiquity or in the Middle Ages may be forgiven, even if the
more clever Knutsen admits that to 'trace the history of a subject-
matter which constantly undergoes mutations and transformations ...
is much like hunting chameleons,'33 and that, not surprisingly, '[w]hen
Aquinas moves from domestic relations within states [sic!] to relations
among states, his arguments become more unclear'.34 But this absol-
ution cannot be granted as easily to Holzgrefe, who, despite his vast
legal erudition, claims that 'the conflation of foreign and domestic
politics in Medieval Europe' had as a consequence that sovereign
states were not the only entities that exercised the right to treaty,35
60
instead of interpreting this fact as an indication that there was nothing
there to 'conflate' in the first place. By the same token, Holzgrefe ends
up in wonder at the marked disjunction between theory and practice
in international politics.36
According to Skinner, if we want to avoid these fallacies and give up
mythologizing the past, two things must be done. We must rid our-
selves of the Fregean assumption that the meaning and reference of
words are constant and unchanging through the ages, and con-
sequently extend the scope of historical investigation to recover the
context in which the various works were written in order to under-
stand them:
[W]e must study all the various situations, which may change in
complex ways, in which the given form of words can logically be used
- all the functions the words can serve, all the various things that can
be done with them. The great mistake lies not merely in looking for
the 'essential meaning' of the 'idea' as something which must neces-
sarily 'remain the same', but even in thinking of any 'essential'
meaning ... at all... [W]e should study not the meanings of words,
but their use. For the given idea cannot ultimately be said in this
sense to have any meaning that can take the form of a set of words
which can be excogitated and traced out over time. Rather the
meaning of the idea must be its uses to refer in various ways.37
Following Wittgenstein, Austin and Searle, Skinner argues that we
should regard words as deeds. The key to a proper understanding of a
text lies in what the author intended to do in and by writing it; what
sort of society was he writing for and trying to persuade; what set of
ideological conventions constrained or enabled this enterprise, and
how was he trying to use or manipulate them?38 We should use the
particular social, political, cultural and linguistic context, not in order
to explain causally why that which was written indeed was written, but
in order to recover and understand the intentions or point embodied in
the act of writing it. To explain causally would be to invite presentism,
since that which is supposed to explain need not be present in the
beliefs to be explained. To Skinner, therefore, comments on the
concept of sovereignty which merely reduce it to an expression of
underlying social realities, such as 'absolutism' and therefore as some-
thing equivalent to it,39 a process of 'social atomisation',40 or 'an
instrument for protecting a given system of productive relations',41 do
not put us in touch with the meaning of the concept, no more than
with the point embodied in its articulation at a given time and place.42
61
If texts are acts, to understand them we need to get a grasp of the

intentions with which they were written. But acts are also texts: they
contain intersubjective meanings that can be read off from the context
of their occurrence.43 It follows that the history of ideas should be a
history of statements or speech-acts, and of the conditions in which
they occurred or were performed; also, and integral to the herme-
neutics of conflict, primacy should be given to political and ideological
conflict when explaining ideological change.44 Thus, and as an essen-
tial step in any historical reconstruction which aspires to be proper
history and not merely a projection of present concerns, we must start
out by assuming that:
[N]o agent can eventually be said to have meant or done something
which he could never be brought to accept as a correct description of
what he had meant or done. This special authority of an agent over
his intentions does not exclude, of course, the possibility that an
observer might be in a position to give a fuller or more convincing
account of the agent's behaviour than he could give himself. But it
does exclude the possibility that an acceptable account of an agent's
behaviour could ever survive the demonstration that it was itself
dependent on the use of criteria of description and classification not
available to the agent himself. For if a given statement or other action
has been performed by an agent at will, and has meaning for him, it
follows that any plausible account of what the agent meant must
necessarily fall under, and make use of, the range of descriptions
which the agent himself could at least in principle have applied to
describe and classify what he was doing.45
Charity is the foremost interpretative virtue, lest we commit the
whiggish sin of projecting our own local prejudices upon the past. But,
then, how far can we extend our sympathy without simultaneously
giving up the possibility of criticism or dissolving our enterprise into
literary criticism? A crucial case in this respect is how to explain beliefs
that strike us as untrue or absurd.
Skinner tries to solve these problems by separating rationality and
truth, and insists on a contingent relationship between them. Follow-
ing Davidson, he assumes that the holding of true beliefs constitutes
the norm among the people we are studying (otherwise we should
find ourselves unable to identify what they believe), and that we
should not equate the holding of beliefs we judge to be false with a
lapse in rationality. Rationality does not necessarily imply truth; a
corollary to his theory of language, the rationality of a proposition or
belief is dependent on its overall coherence with other propositions or
62
beliefs,46 and the rationality of such a system of propositions or beliefs

is in turn to be evaluated in pragmatic terms:
When I speak of agents holding rational beliefs, I mean only that their
beliefs (what they hold to be true) should be suitable beliefs for them
to hold true in the circumstances in which they find themselves. A
rational belief will thus be one that an agent has attained by some
accredited process of reasoning. Such a process will in turn be one
that, according to the prevailing norms of epistemic rationality, may
be said to give the agent good grounds for supposing (as opposed to
merely desiring or hoping) that the belief in question is true.47
From this another methodological precept follows. However strange
the beliefs we are studying may seem to be, we must try to make the
agents who held them appear as rational as possible. We should
begin our interpretative effort by recreating the inner connections
among the beliefs we are studying, and try to identify what was
accepted as a good reason for believing something to be true among
the people we are studying.48
This piece of hermeneutic advice comes close to the impartiality

requirement advocated by some sociologists of knowledge, and is the
death blow to the possibility of rational evaluation this criterion is said
to entail.49 The impartiality requirement states that we should
approach and explain beliefs in the same causal terms, irrespective of
the truth-value we are willing to ascribe to them. But here Skinner
pulls the emergency brake:
It is simply that the kinds of explanations we offer for beliefs we
judge to be rationally held are of a different order from the kinds of
explanations we feel obliged to offer if we once come to doubt
whether a given belief is held in a rational way ... [E]ven if we
assume that our explanations will in each case be causal in form, the
causes of someone's following what are taken to be the relevant
norms of reasoning will nevertheless be of a different order from the
causes of their violating them.50
The upshot of this argument is that we should split the difference

between our explanatory priorities, but without insisting on full sym-
metry between the available modes of explanation. Instead of follow-
ing the conventional path of taking rational beliefs to be their own
explanation, and accounting for lapses in rationality in causal terms,
we should devote as much effort to explaining rationally held beliefs.
Then attainment of rationality is a considerable achievement, and an
inquiry into the conditions that enable agents to attain rationality will
63
be as legitimate as an inquiry into the conditions that prevent agents

from attaining it, although the causes in each case will be of a different
kind. We should take whatever is said at face value - even if absurd -
as a fully valid expression of a belief, and as long as possible resist the
temptation to suggest - as anthropologists frequently do - that the
given statement is expressive of something other than a belief, and
hence treat the speech-act symbolically. The only available criterion for
determining when to shift explanatory mode would in this case be 'our
own cognitive discomfort'.51
Political rationalities are particular and local, and how well any
given statement fits into that framework of rationality must be judged
by two criteria that reflect its duality in relation to the context. We must
ask not only to what extent the actual statement was the outcome of a
rational policy on the part of the agent, but also whether it was
consistent with the prevailing sense of epistemic rationality. To answer
these questions, we must recover the particular context of both ideo-
logical conventions and epistemic presuppositions.52
Skinner's methodological principles rest on the assumption that the
elucidation of the meaning of statements and the concomitant identifi-
cation of beliefs are logically anterior to the task of explaining them.
We need to know exactly what we are going to explain, before we can
furnish our explanations. Indeed, what will be the appropriate mode
of explanation can only be decided with reference to the recovered
historical identity of a given statement or belief. When we have
succeeded in doing this, it is legitimate to go beyond the vocabulary in
which the beliefs under investigation were stated, and start to explain
or comment on them in our own vocabulary, which will be quite
certain to include concepts that would have been incomprehensible to
the people to whom we apply them.
As we have seen, Skinner recommends that we stay on the herme-
neutic surface as long as possible by taking statements at face value,
and postpone any suspicions about discursive abnormality, irrational-
ity and falsity until our rationalist account fails completely, and our
dialogue with the dead breaks down. We must thus allow for a hard
core of emphatic whiggishness, by assuming that our ancestors shared
at least some of our beliefs about the importance of consistency and
coherence, and regard abnormality and contradictions as parasitic on
or derivative from these norms. We should start by assuming that we
must in some way have misunderstood or mistranslated some of the
propositions by which they are expressed. Hence, and if this pro-
64
cedure happens to fail, these special cases of rationality gone astray are
not directly susceptible to illocutionary redescription, since they
cannot be identified as literal expressions of belief.
To rephrase the initial question, what can we hope to learn from the
history of political thought? Even if we are in an important sense
prisoners of the present, Skinner's approach teaches us to question the
distinction between historical reconstruction and rational criticism,
since it 'enables us to recognize that our own descriptions and concep-
tualizations are in no way uniquely privileged'.53 With this insight, we
can eventually hope to 'acquire a perspective from which to view our
own form of life in a more self-critical way, enlarging our present
horizons instead of fortifying local prejudices'.54 We cannot demand,
however, that the history of thought should supply us with solutions
to our own problems: 'we must learn to do our own thinking for
ourselves'.55 In doing this, however, we must learn from the past: the
alien character of past beliefs is what constitutes their relevance to our
present, since our own concepts nevertheless evolved out of them.56
The conflict of hermeneutics
Though Skinner's approach has been subjected to extensive criticism,
most of his critics have avoided digging into the epistemic and ontolo-
gical underpinnings of his work. Among the epistemological prob-
lems, the first is to be found in the conflict between the ambition to
avoid the finalist and presentist fallacies, while retaining a suprahisto-
rical vantage point.
As a result, rationality is relativized into manifold historically speci-
fic 'rationalities', each with its own inner coherence and pragmatic
justification, whereas the concept of truth is relegated to a place
outside time. Says Skinner: 'I have merely observed that the question
of what it may be rational to hold true can vary with the totality of
one's beliefs. I have never put forward the reckless and completely
different thesis that truth itself can vary in the same way.'57
Now the history Skinner himself is writing itself aspires to be a true
story, or at least he assumes that the question of its truth can be settled
in a rational way in the present; at a minimum, truth is the regulative
idea of his enterprise.58 Why Skinner necessarily must raise such
absolutist claims, and why he feels such discomfort at the prospect of
being surpassed in the same fashion as he himself surpasses the
likewise valiant truth-claims of others, is enigmatic.
His prime mechanism of validation, however, is not. The context
65
carries this burden; in principle, it is not only possible to recover and

frame, but also possible to saturate it with ever more fine-grained
historical facts until it reaches a stage where every conflict between
alternative interpretations of a given work or statement finally can be
settled or ruled out.59 While the historical reconstruction and interpre-
tation is allowed to be undertaken with a coherence theory of rational
acceptability as the bottom line, the truth of the outcome seems to be
warranted by an algorithmic procedure; the notion of saturability
clearly points in this direction. Hence, at the same time as Skinner
wants to suspend the concept of truth in favour of historicized ration-
ality in the account of past beliefs, he clings to much less mutable a
standard when it comes to justifying his own beliefs, and con-
sequently, to side-stepping the hermeneutic circle in order to comment
on beliefs which strike him as absurd. Two different conceptual
pressures are at work here: on the one hand, Skinner seeks to avoid
the presentist fallacy, on the other, he wants to avoid being accused of
the arbitrariness said to follow from full conceptual relativism,
although there are strong Occamite reasons for giving in to this latter
temptation.
In one of his many examples, Skinner brings up for discussion the
fact that Bodin wrote a short treatise on witchcraft. As Skinner finds
belief in witches both false and bizarre, he is at pains to explain why it
was rational, and not merely psychologically intelligible to speak of
witches in the particular context of late-Renaissance thought. Though
witches never have existed, it was nevertheless rational for Renais-
sance writers to discourse upon them as if they were real, since denial
of their existence would have presented a challenge to the theological
authority of the day. With a sojourn in the dungeons as the ultimate
reward for undue scepticism, you better stay ontologically correct.60
Now a diehard conceptual relativist would take the frequent occur-
rence and coexistence of statements about witches, mermaids and
demons as an indication that they did exist; that the ontological space
opened by Renaissance knowledge gave free access to those entities,
while excluding atoms, productive forces and international systems, so
what is it besides liberal arrogance that keeps Skinner from admitting
the existence of witches?
The answer is to be found in the unquestioned and supposedly
timeless metalanguage that furnishes Skinner with his suprahistorical
vantage point, and which sustains his own truth-claims. Just as talk of
rational belief presupposes a subject, so talk about existence presup-
66
poses a distinctively modern interpretation of being in general, both of

which are transposed back into the past, the former as its hero, the
latter as its essence. Criteria for distinguishing appearance from reality
that are ours, not Bodin's, are allowed to guide interpretation as if they
themselves were without history.
Another problem of general concern to all interpretation that
departs from the subject as the privileged locus of meaning is inherent
in the theory of language to which Skinner seems to subscribe. Either
the interpreter attributes final explanatory power to the everyday
meaning of the statements or acts under investigation, by elucidating
what they meant to the agents performing them, or he relegates this
authority to a deep meaning or hidden significance in the statements
or acts themselves, and continues his inquiry with a suspicious glance
into the underlying psychological or sociological motives which sup-
posedly govern the speaking subject. In both cases, however, the
practices which make both subjectivity and meaning - and therefore
also the hermeneutic practice itself - possible are bound to escape the
interpreter, who takes them for granted as part of a background
understanding shared by both interpretans and interpretandum.61
Following Austin and Searle in his account of language and its
relation to the subject, Skinner regards the performative dimension of
language as essentially - however not always methodologically - para-
sitic upon its representative dimension. Within this view, language -
primarily a means to communication among speaking subjects - func-
tions as a resource as well as a constraint upon communicative action.
It is a resource in so far as it allows for the creative manipulation of
linguistic conventions; the act performed by a statement is always an
intervention into the context, but it is equally constrained by the
meaning and reference of that given statement.62 The latter is itself an
artifice of more or less variable linguistic conventions, while the former
is founded on intentionality. In order to do things with words, these
words must have acquired a prior meaning in order to gain illo-
cutionary force, a meaning which is not fully constituted or deter-
mined by their place in a given context, but which still must be
supplemented with an intention on the part of a speaking and acting
subject.
To Austin, this supplement is provided through the demand that the
speech-acts under investigation must be serious ones (not necessarily
in uptake, but in intention);63 to Searle, this supplement is provided by
a quasi-materialist account of human intentionality,64 and a set of
67
criteria defining a 'total speech act situation'. The details of these

accounts aside, they both - as representatives of an anthropocentric
interpretation of the later Wittgenstein - assume that the speaking
subject is present on the scene before any meaning whatsoever, and
that the subject consequently is the ultimate source and locus of all
meaning; a meaning which he is then free to manipulate within the
bounds of contextual constraints.
The assumptions of fixed being and fixed subjectivity silently inform
Skinner's interpretation of political texts, and together constitute the
sovereign vantage point from which the history of political philosophy
can be reconstructed, but this vantage point is itself withdrawn from
the flow of history. As a consequence, Skinner's history of political
thought is essentially a doxographical one, a history of opinions which
moves forward as a result of the ceaseless battle between them.
Throughout, however, the epistemic and ontological conditions
behind these opinions escape attention, since they are presumed to be
an immutable backdrop against which all opinion is formed, articu-
lated and disseminated.
In general methodological terms, this means that any actual his-
torical reconstruction is likely to proceed by marginalization; that which
looks obscure, absurd or patently false from the viewpoint of our
present is systematically subdued, and only that which chimes well
with modern knowledge is admitted into the narrative core.
More specifically, in his history of the term state and its terminologi-
cal predecessors, Skinner seems to demand that an amount of 'self-
consciousness' is necessary on the part of a given writer, if we are to be
entitled to speak of him as expressing a specific concept of the state by
using the very term or one of its equivalents.65 This requisite is of
course useful if we want to investigate arguments and debates over
this concept as soon as it has surfaced in political discourse and
therefore can be expressed by subjects, but if we want to answer the
more intriguing question of how the notion of the state as an abstract
entity, detached both from ruler and ruled became a logical and
ontological possibility, it is difficult to see why the self-consciousness
of an author should be vested with this privilege.
No one would put this demand upon a history of geometry or upon
a history of poetry, and insist that a given geometrical figure or a
specific trope only existed by virtue of being self-consciously
expressed, whatever that might mean. Why should the history of
political thought and the history of its core concepts be confined to a
68
history of divergent opinions, leaving out or simply taking for granted
the background understandings which makes these clashes of opin-
ions possible in the first place? Aside from the difficulties in making
inferences about self-consciousness from a text, this methodological
requisite entails that one assumes the author-subject to be transhistori-
cally present, and thus beyond the scope of historical investigation;
once this is assumed, however, the historical constitution of the self-
conscious subject and its interconnection with the concept of the
modern state cannot be told, or is doomed to be superficial.
Histories of the present as inside stories

In chapter 2, we saw how the quest for empirical science made the
foundations of this science inaccessible to inquiry. In the above section,
we saw how this gesture was repeated by Skinnerian hermeneutics. In
its quest for validity, the sovereign vantage point itself was withdrawn
from history, and inscribed into a timeless stratum; objects, subjects
and concepts were all ascribed a position there. In this section, I shall
argue that our understanding of the relationship between sovereignty
and knowledge gains from a suspension of such a suprahistorical
vantage point, and that we should try to situate ourselves within
history rather than at the end of it or above it.
Since the problems encountered in the previous section were partly
rooted in the theory of language to which the hermeneutics of conflict
subscribes, we should begin there, by, so to speak, turning this theory
of language inside out. What if we release language from its necessary
ties to objects and subjects, and treat it as autonomous and its ties to
what is outside it as contingent upon its autonomous functioning as
discourse? Statements would then no longer be regarded as representa-
tive or expressive, but systematically involved in the formation of both
the speaker and the objects of which he speaks. In what follows, I shall
argue that this step is necessary albeit not sufficient, if we are going
to understand the historical relationship between sovereignty and
knowledge.
The autonomy and primacy of discourse
Following Foucault, we could begin by carefully distinguishing state-
ments from propositions and utterances, something which Skinner
does not do. Statements are not like propositions; they are not logical
entities with a fixed and intrinsic meaning and reference: the same
69
proposition with the same meaning can figure as different statements

depending on the epistemic conditions under which it occurs. State-
ments are not utterances: whereas Skinner tends to equate statements
with utterances, different utterances can be repetitions of one identical
statement.66
Thus, statements cannot be defined according to the same logical
criteria used in the definition of propositions and utterances
respectively: 'one finds statements lacking in legitimate propositional
structure; one finds statements where one cannot recognize a sen-
tence; one finds more statements than one can isolate speech acts'.67
Ultimately, statements are neither words nor things and in analysing
them, we 'must suspend not only the point of view of the signified, but
also that of the signifier'.68 The statement is not a structure, nor a
primitive unit; it is a 'function that cuts across a domain of structures
and possible unities, and which reveals them, with concrete contents
in time and space'.69
Statements cannot be studied in isolation. They form discourses
which are held together by regularities exhibited by the relations
between different statements; a discourse is a system for the formation
of statements.70 Hence, the analysis of discourse presupposes exactly
the step that Skinner tried to avoid. The historian must not only
remain neutral as to the truth-claims of the statements under investi-
gation; he must also bracket their claim to meaning and intelligibility,
and explain meaning and intelligibility as a function of the text, rather
than conversely. Also, the necessity of a suprahistorical vantage point
is abandoned, since being and truth now are objects of inquiry rather
than points of departure; the analysis of discourse is based on 'a pure
description of discursive events',71 and the analysis of statements,
then, is a historical analysis, but one that avoids all interpretation: it
does not question things said as to what they are hiding, what they
were 'really' saying, in spite of themselves, the unspoken element they
contain, the proliferation of thoughts, images and fantasies that
inhabit them; but, on the contrary, it questions them as to their mode
of existence, what it means to them to have come into existence, to
have left traces, and perhaps to remain there, awaiting the moment
when they might be of use once more; what it means for them to have
appeared when and where they did.72
Consequently, the notion of context drops out as a category
explaining the meaning of what has been said and done with words.
What counts as the relevant context is itself circularly determined as
70
the particular discourse or family of statements in which a specific

statement is being used.73 As Culler has remarked, 'meaning is context-
bound, but context is boundless'.74 Instead, the notion of context is
replaced by the concept of logical spaces in which the unfolding and
transformation of discourse occurs. It is also in this logical space that
the correlation of statements and the effective formation of discourse
takes place, and in which the positions constituted by it are formed.
According to Deleuze:
If statements can be distinguished from words, phrases or propo-
sitions, it is because they contain their own functions of subject, object
and concept in the form of derivatives. To be precise, subject, object
and concept are merely functions derived from the statement. As a
result, the correlative space is the discursive order of places or posi-
tions occupied by subjects, objects and concepts in a family of state-
ments.75
In the beginning was the word; discourse is autonomous and has
primacy, but is not itself foundational; its autonomy and primacy does
not reside in any magical or metaphysical ability to produce physical
reality, but in its ability to organize knowledge systematically, so that
some things become intelligible, and others not. Knowledge presup-
poses discourse; statements imply and are correlated with subjects,
objects and concepts, but maintain no necessary causal or logical
relations with them. Insofar as statements are constitutive of subjects,
objects and concepts, it is through relations of coexistence and corre-
lation, which makes certain objects possible as objects of knowledge,
and certain propositions possible to deny or affirm by a knowing
subject, while other objects and other propositions are excluded from
the actual domain of knowledge.76 Thus, what exists is a function of
what is knowable, and not conversely. What is possible to say is a
function of what is knowable, and not conversely. What is possible for
an author to mean or intend, is a function of the text and its relations
with other texts, rather than conversely.77
Thus, a description of statements and the relations they maintain
with themselves is a description of logical spaces, a description of the
conditions of intelligibility and knowledgeability.78 While autonomous
and primary, discourse is caught up in a web of practices; its primacy
in relation to them depends on its ability to organize them systematic-
ally as being essentially discursive practices, that is, systems of state-
ments for the organization of practices.79
This autonomy and primacy of discourse leads to two interrelated
71
problems. First, since discourses and discursive practices are state-

ments held together by regularities, the problem of how to identify
and describe these regularities is bound to arise. If discourses are
defined in terms of regularity, their formation and individuation must
be governed by rules, but are these rules themselves part of the
discourse under investigation, or are these rules situated outside it?
On this point, Foucault himself is not very clear. On the one hand,
these rules can be regarded as merely descriptive laws of what is going
on inside a given discourse, and how statements are tied together into
regular unities. In this case, the rules need not be instantiated in the
consciousness of authors and agents; they need not follow them in
order to be formed and governed by them. Consequently, these rules
are situated inside discourse, at the same level as statements them-
selves, and are to be read off inductively from the discourse under
investigation. On the other hand, and as Foucault sometimes unfortu-
nately implies, the rules that govern the formation of discourses do so
causally and prescriptively, and they operate directly on the level of
phenomena, and so govern the formation not only of statements, but
also of their derivative functions, such as subjects, objects and con-
cepts. In this case, the rules of formation turn out to be as much
constitutive as regulative, much as grammatical rules are thought to
function in structural linguistics.80
Second, if we choose, which seems the reasonable thing to do, the
first and quite positivist interpretation of discursive rules, another
problem arises, namely how a given discourse can be transformed. If
we had opted for the second interpretation, this problem would have
had an imaginary solution awaiting it in the realm of thought its
formulation was designed to escape; that of subject and structure. But
if the rules of formation are immanent in discourse itself, there is no
external point from which to explain discontinuity; we can arrive at
thick descriptions of incommensurable discourses, but we will face a
serious problem if we want to explain the transition from one glass
bowl to another.81
Since this book has as its primary aim to describe the relationship
between sovereignty and knowledge as it occurs within three chrono-
logically distinct logical spaces, the assumptions of the autonomy and
primacy of discourse will guide these descriptions; but since its
secondary aim is to relate these three discourses to each other, we must
envisage a way of accounting for the interrelationship and the succes-
sion of logical spaces in time. As I shall argue in the next section,
71
genealogy provides us with the last clue to the historical relation

between sovereignty and knowledge.82
Genealogy
Given this inverted relationship between language and world, what
would a history of sovereignty and knowledge look like? In chapter 1,1
said that genealogy was effective, by virtue of being episodical and
exemplary. It is effective in so far as it must start from an analysis of the
present, and identify something as problematic in that present in order
to write a history of it. As such, genealogy is strategically aimed at that
which looks unproblematic and is held to be timeless; its task is to
explain how these present traits, in all their vigour and truth, were
formed out of the past. Further, genealogy is episodical insofar as it
does not aim to supply a history of the past as it actually was, or to
recover a past age in its full density or significance. Instead, genealogy
deals with those episodes which are involved in the effective for-
mation of that which was identified as problematic in the present.
Finally, genealogy is exemplary, but not in the Renaissance sense of
exemplary history. It relies on examples, but it does not assume these
examples to be transhistorically valid, since this necessarily would
presuppose a cyclical recurrence of historical events or a cyclical
concept of time, or both. However, genealogy does presuppose cyclical
recurrence at the level of narrative time, so that it can account for the
formation of its own point of view, and hence justify itself and its
choice of examples as a coherent and locally true narrative. In this
section, I shall explain these relationships more fully, while leaving out
the much-disputed critical and normative implications of genealogical
history.83
In chapter 2 above, I attempted an analysis of the present, by
demonstrating that the problem of sovereignty, as it looks at present, is
rigorously intertwined with the possibilities of political knowledge.
Sovereignty is the unthought foundation of that knowledge, and vice
versa. As such, the historical problem is to explain how these links
were formed, and how the concept of sovereignty acquired its present
parergonal qualities. Thus formulated, the problem is a Nietzschean
one: how did we get here?
Now if - as Nietzsche thought - our understanding of the past
inevitably is determined by present concerns, it is perhaps another
modern folly to try to escape this present. Perhaps we should accept
the fact that we cannot hope to get a fully detached view of our past.
73
Perhaps we should instead situate ourselves self-consciously in the

present, not in order to write the history of the past, but in order to
write the history of how this very present was formed.84
As we saw above, finalism and presentism invariably resulted from
the attempt to situate ourselves outside history: as a consequence, we
should perhaps abandon the quest for a suprahistorical perspective,
and instead try to write history from within. If there is no true past from
which to lay tracks to the present, we cannot hope to recover true
stories of this past without the aid of a metastory telling us what to
count as a true story, this metastory itself being a historical artifice.
However, there must be a connection between past and present, lest
the writing of history be an impossible or entirely meaningless enter-
prise. From a genealogical point of view, the present is all history, in
the sense that everything in it has a history, including that which is
thought to be timeless, unchanging, given or original, and has been
elevated into metanarrative. Thus, genealogy is not a history of opin-
ions, but a history of the knowledges and the metastories which
furnish other stories with validity and coherence.85 It does not presup-
pose objects, subjects and concepts, but aims to explain their emer-
gence. Foucault writes:
One has to dispense with the constituent subject, to get rid of the
subject itself, that's to say to arrive at an analysis which can account
for the constitution of the subject within a historical framework. And
this is what I would call genealogy, that is, a form of history which
can account for the constitution of knowledges, discourses and
domains of objects etc., without having to make reference to a subject
which is either transcendental in relation to thefieldof events or runs
in its empty sameness throughout the course of history.86
The genealogical side of discourse ... deals with series of effective
formation of discourse: it attempts to grasp it in its power of affir-
mation, by which I do not mean a power opposed to that of negation,
but the power of constituting domains of objects, in relation to which
one can affirm or deny true or false propositions.87
Therefore, if genealogy is effective history, it is because it is
deployed strategically to explain those very traits in the present which
we feel are without history, and which serve as starting points for
other histories and our present sense of identity: it seeks to put
everything evident at present in historical motion. As such, it
approaches political thought as if its history were one of pure necessity
and pure contingency simultaneously; as if it were a history of
74
mathematics and a history of poetry. Further, to genealogy, there are

no fixed identities or fixed truths to be uncovered by the historian:
historical knowledge itself is an object of inquiry rather than a ready
possibility, and must be explained as the outcome of past and present
concerns. The genealogist turns one of Montaigne's laments into his
foremost virtue, and devotes his energies less to the interpretation of
things, than to the interpretation of interpretations.88 According to
Nietzsche, there is never a pure historical origin and hence no
unbroken continuities or successions in history:
[T]here is for historiography of any kind no more important propo-
sition than the one it took such effort to establish but which really
ought to be established now: the cause of the origin of a thing and its
eventual utility, its actual employment and place in a system of
purposes, lie worlds apart; whatever exists, having somehow come
into being, is again and again reinterpreted to new ends, taken over,
transformed, and redirected by some power superior to it... for one
had always believed that to understand the demonstrable purposes,
the utility of a thing, a form, or an institution, was also to understand
why it originated.89
Where a hermeneutic interpretation would seek to uncover past
realities behind past appearances, genealogy seeks to account for the
historical mobility of appearances and realities; behind the veil of
appearance, a genealogical history does not find reality, but only
another interpretation of the difference between appearance and
reality. To genealogy, what happens to exist is a matter of how this
divide is arranged and rearranged throughout history. In short, it does
not deal with realities, but with troubled efforts at naturalization and
the realization of logical and rhetorical possibilities. Thus, genealogy is
effective insofar as it is capable of historicizing the present, and of
demonstrating that its identity and history themselves have a history
of their own, a history which in part is a metahistory of other histories
and their active involvement in the constitution of present identities.
Also, genealogy is episodical; it does not go back in time in order to
restore an unbroken continuity; it does not seek to demonstrate that
the past actively exists in the present;90 instead, it attempts to show
how the past exists only by virtue of being reconstructed from a
present, and how this present itself is contingent Upon that very past.
Whereas a history of the past seeks to recover the past as it actually
was, without being sensitive to the fact that how things actually were
is a function of how things stand in the present, genealogy focuses on
75
the episodes that help to explain the formation of those traits of the
present singled out as problematic. It does not aim to depict an age, an
event or a culture in its entirety as does conventional history, but only
those historical accidents and details which serve to make the present
more intelligible.
Therefore, genealogy cannot concern itself exclusively with the
great texts or the great events of an age, since the greatness of a text or
an event is a function of the significance given to them by a present
which is problematic precisely because it has evolved out of these texts
and events; instead, it must continuously question the relationship
between interpretive centre and interpretive periphery, whether in
singular texts or in entire discourses. Also, genealogy is necessarily
episodical because it systematically focuses on and differentiates itself
from earlier interpretations, and interprets these interpretations as
part of the same problem these interpretations themselves sought to
solve.
Since genealogy is not a history of essences, but a history of the
battles between different interpretations, it seeks to describe how these
battles clear the logical space where objects of knowledge, subjects and
concepts can emerge within discourse. The emergence and trans-
formation of discourse and its derivatives result not from continuous
growth or succession, but from episodical substitutions, transpositions,
sublimations and reversals within discourse itself.91 Consequently,
genealogy can never pretend to discover the proper origin of subjects,
objects and concepts, since such a search would assume the existence
of immobile forms that precede all accident and all interpretation:
'What is found at the historical beginning of things is not the inviolable
identity of their origin; it is the dissension of other things. It is
disparity.'92 Nor can genealogy assume an end towards which every-
thing evolves, because this would be to assume that this end already is
manifest in the present or in the future, and, consequently, that
interpretation itself can ever come to an end. It is episodical because it
treats the present as an episode among others, and not as a final
episode of a long drama, or as a non-episode from which all other
episodes can be comprehended.
Finally, genealogy is exemplary. It is based on examples which are
taken from episodes which are invoked to explain the effective for-
mation of the present. As we learn from Aristotle's Rhetorics, argu-
ments from examples 'are the result of induction from one or more
singular cases, and when one assumes the general and then concludes
76
the particular by an example'.93 Of course, an argument from examples

may be refuted, 'if we have a single fact that contradicts the oppo-
nent's example the argument is refuted as not being necessary, even
though examples, more in number and of more common occurrence,
are otherwise'.94 That is, an exemplary history uses general assump-
tions of the nature of an episode in order to choose its examples from a
body of evidence, and uses the resulting examples to exemplify the
general assumptions of the nature of an episode, this procedure being
warranted by the frequency of examples found in the body of textual
evidence.
Now the standard objection to such a view of history and the way of
writing it is of course that it is arbitrary in outlook, and this to the point
that the very distinction between past and present vanishes before our
eyes. To the extent that genealogy denies the necessity of a suprahisto-
rical point of view, it must lapse into fiction. To the extent that
genealogy does not deal with fixed identities, its object of study is
fluid. To the extent that genealogy is episodical, the choice and defi-
nition of the episodes to be investigated are never undertaken from a
stable set of criteria. To the extent that genealogy is exemplary, its
sampling of examples is never representative and does not cover the
wealth of sources.
To counter this objection, one may point out that genealogy must
start from an analysis of the present, which serves as the point of
departure for the historical inquiry. If the task of genealogy is to write
the history of the present from within this very present, it must
therefore recognize that its own vantage point, its own perspective, is
the outcome of the history reconstructed on the basis of it. That is, in
order to justify its definition of episodes, its choice of examples and
ultimately itself as a coherent and locally true narrative, it must write
the history of its own vantage point simultaneously. Thus, genealogy
therefore becomes deliberately elliptical in its mode of emplotment
and in its narrative structure. Genealogy does not only recognize that
what we call the past is dependent on the present, but that the point
from which the past is apprehended itself has a past which coincides
with our comprehension of the present. If genealogy is elliptical, it is
not because history repeats itself or because time is cyclical, but
because one simultaneously has to write the history of the concept of
history in order to make sense of the present as something contingent
upon a specific historical process. It is thus based on a double reflex-
ivity between the historical modalities of past and present and
77
between historical fact and historical narrative. Logically, genealogy is

not only a recipe for writing history from within, but also a recipe for
writing the inside story of present truths. As Foucault has noted, 'one
'fictions' history on the basis of a political reality that makes it true, one
'fictions' a politics not yet in existence on the basis of a historical
truth'.95
In short, what genealogy purports to teach us from history is that we
are historical beings all the way down; we are but interpretations of
earlier interpretations - but also that it is we and only we who do the
interpretation. If genealogical history happens to be rewritten, it is
because the present changes. If the present changes, it is partly
because history is rewritten.
So far the metahistorical outlook of genealogy. In the next section, it
remains to elaborate some of the core assumptions of genealogy and
the problems associated with them. As I shall argue, these problems
invariably arise when one takes genealogy too seriously, either by
raising claims about universal truth or by construing it as a critical
theory.
Sovereignty and knowledge
To genealogy, all knowledge is a socially and historically conditioned
practice: 'truth is a thing of this world, and each society has its regime of
truth'.96 Hence, it must be prepared to answer the question of how this
knowledge is related to other parts of political discourse. As I shall
argue in this section, Foucault's own response to this problem is
unsatisfactory, and is open to metaphysical interpretations. Instead, I
shall elaborate an alternative interpretation, and spell out its impli-
cations for our understanding of knowledge and sovereignty.
As is well known, Foucault's response to the problem posed by
genealogy has been to conceptualize knowledge in strict inter-
dependence with power, and treat power and knowledge as mutually
generative throughout history, within discourse as well as in the realm
of non-discursive practices. In order to understand this peculiar
relationship between power and knowledge, it must be contrasted
with more conventional accounts of this relationship. In modern poli-
tical thought, two versions of this relationship have been pre-
dominant.
First, and then most often as a presentist apprehension of the
ideological upshot of the scientific revolution, the relationship
between knowledge and power has been understood in pragmatic
78
terms. Knowledge became the key to the subordination of nature to

culture, and of man's mastery of his conditions of existence in nature
and society alike. With Bacon, knowledge and power are linked
together as a means to an end and as a cause to an effect. Knowledge,
erected on firm foundations, is the source of human progress; the
forces of nature can be brought under control, and society can be
rendered susceptible to rational reform. Truth becomes a condition of
legitimate power rightly exercised.
Second, and intimately tied to the late-modern interpretations of the
political aspirations of the Enlightenment, the relationship between
power and knowledge has been understood critically. Illegitimate
power is a constraint upon knowledge, insofar as it excludes or repre-
sses the use and production of knowledge. The negative and con-
straining face of power operates by suspending knowledge in favour
of ideology, which serves to mask power's ugly face and make its
hegemony acceptable. In the liberal and marxist critique of ideology
alike, knowledge becomes a strategically important antidote to domi-
nance and repression, and consequently a source of human emancipa-
tion, whether by gradual reform or total revolution. Truth becomes the
antithesis of illegitimate power wrongly exercised.
These two figures are often accepted as part of the background
understanding in the human and social sciences, and the making of
modern political theory is in part a matter of striking the right balance
between them. As we shall see in chapters 5 and 6, these figures
themselves are drawn within two distinct discourses, both of which
conceptualize power in terms of causality, and relate power and
knowledge at the level of subjectivity.97 It is this causal interpretation
of power, and the linkage of power and knowledge within a founding
subject, which has rendered the latter as the centrepiece of modern
political theory, while at the same time its formation and emergence
within discourse has been all the more difficult to account for, since the
subject constitutes the unquestioned foundation of the very discourse
which has attempted to account for it. Further, without the founding
subject as the locus of both power and knowledge, it has seemed
impossible to make sense of these concepts and their possible logical
and empirical relationships.98
It is against this backdrop we must try to grasp Foucault's theory,
since his analysis is addressed precisely to the unthought assumptions
underlying both figures. The subject, the object and the concepts of
modern political knowledge are subjected to analysis within his frame-
79
work. To Foucault, power is essentially productive: it must produce

reality before it can act as a constraint upon it; it must equally produce
truth before it can suppress or conceal it:99
If power were never anything but repressive, if it never did anything
but to say no, do you really think one would be brought to obey it?
What makes power hold good, what makes it accepted, is simply the
fact that it doesn't only weigh on us as a force that says no, but that it
traverses and produces things, it induces pleasure, forms knowledge,
produces discourse. It needs to be considered as a productive
network which runs through the whole social body, much more than
as a negative instance whose function is repression.100
Thus, whenever and wherever there is knowledge, there is power,
and vice versa:
Perhaps, too, we should abandon a whole tradition that allows us to
imagine that knowledge can exist only where the power relations are
suspended and that knowledge can develop only outside its injunc-
tions, its demands and interests. Perhaps we should abandon the
belief that power makes mad and that, by the same token, the
renunciation of power is one of the conditions of knowledge. We
should admit rather that power produces knowledge (and not simply
by encouraging it because it serves power or by applying it because it
is useful); that power and knowledge directly imply one another; that
there is no power relation without the correlative constitution of a
field of knowledge, nor any knowledge that does not presuppose at
the same time power relations.101
This is not to say that power and knowledge are identical, or that
they stand in a determinate or historically closed relationship to each
other.102 Foucault's analysis of power and knowledge is precisely
focused on the contingent articulation and conversion that takes place
between them in history. At every point, power both presupposes and
produces knowledge, and for this reason, there is no spot itself uncon-
taminated by power from where to reflect on its interplay with power.
Power and knowledge are linked together on the basis of their differ-
ence, but the former has a certain primacy over the latter. Power
relations would fade or remain embryonic without the operations of
knowledge, which integrate and disperse them. Conversely, if there
were no differential power relations, knowledge would have nothing
to integrate, actualize and redistribute.103 Hence, power and know-
ledge presuppose each other, but the one is not reducible to the other.
Their mutual articulation excludes full identity and coincidence, but
80
their difference is made possible only through this articulation. There

is no 'outside' to power/knowledge: each is the other's inside.104
One of the standard lines of criticism directed against this and other
forms of perspectivism is that they are self-refuting;105 if there is no
exteriority, and hence no spot uncontaminated by power from where
to reflect and judge, all knowledge must be ideology. And since this of
course must pertain to the perspectivist claim itself, the perspectivist
has sawed off the branch he is sitting on, and cannot himself raise any
legitimate claims to validity. Worse, if he intends to criticize the
discourses he is investigating, his perspectivism extends the critical
distance ad infinitum, which makes criticism utterly pointless.106
To counter this Socratean move, the perspectivist can turn his back
on universal logic and go sophist. That is, genealogy cannot raise any
claims to universal truth for itself; its truth must remain local and
particular, and it cannot validate its own standpoint with reference to
a hypothetic future where all power relations are suspended, or a final
truth is acquired.107 Nor does the interdependence between power
and knowledge imply that they are mutually reducible: all knowledge
is not necessarily ideology. Sometimes, as in the natural sciences,
knowledge takes off from the practices that got it started, whereas the
efforts of modernity to recast political problems in the neutral lan-
guage of science do not pass the same test.108
So far so good. But as soon as we start to question the ontological
status of Foucauldian power, we are bound to be disappointed. Fou-
cault never defines power, but invests it with creative powers of its
own; it lacks definite locus, since the concept of power has been given
the burden of explaining the formation of all logically possible subject-
ivities; it is not a commodity or a structure, since it is likewise supposed
to explain its own commodification as well as the genesis of all logically
possible structures. Ultimately, he seems to imply, power is a relation
or a set of possible correlations between forces,109 'a total structure of
actions brought to bear upon possible actions',110 but at the same time
it is supposed to explain the formation of correlations, since as such
they cannot reside elsewhere except within knowledge. If 'power is
everywhere, not because it embraces everything, but because it comes
from everywhere',111 it consequently either embraces nothing or
comes from nowhere.
If power explains everything, it cannot itself be anything. Either it is
reified and turned into an essence informing the course of history from
above, or it is merely a narrative helper invoked to transcend the a
81
priori limits of discourse, and to engage in an analysis of what is
outside discourse as if it were inside it. If power really is omnipresent
and explains the formation and transformation of discourse, how do
we explain the discourse on power and its own conceptual
mutations? Either it is explained in terms of its correlations with con-
cepts within the same logical space in which it occurs, or, as seems to
be the case in the later writings of Foucault, the discourse on power is
bracketed, and explained as a strategy for concealing real power rela-
tions, which, as it were, carry the condition of their own invisibility
within themselves. To take some of Foucault's own remarks on sover-
eignty:
When we say that sovereignty is the central problem of right in
Western societies, what we mean basically is that the essential func-
tion of the discourse and techniques of right has been to efface the
domination intrinsic to power in order to present the latter at the
level of appearance under two different aspects: on the one hand, as
the legitimate rights of sovereignty, and on the other, as the legal
obligation to obey it.112
Founded on and tied to the practices of absolutism, sovereignty has
since then functioned as a veil of real power: 'Sovereign, law and pro-
hibition formed a system of representation of power which was
extended during the subsequent era by the theories of right: political
theory has never ceased to be obsessed with the person of the sover-
eign. Such theories still continue today to busy themselves with the
problem of sovereignty.'113
Implied in these remarks is a point similar to Maritain's. Sover-
eignty is but an expression of an outdated political reality, and helps
to conceal present practices of power and domination; the political
theorist who discusses sovereignty is guilty by association. It seems
that either a genealogy of sovereignty would be confined within the
logical limits of discourse, and then cannot and should not aspire to
be critical, since it has no external foothold from which to criticize the
discourse it analyses: it would remain positivist. Or, taking the above
statements seriously, a genealogy of sovereignty would transcend the
logical limits of discourse, and try to be critical by claiming access to a
new reality of power, formerly inarticulable within discourse except
as a moment of concealment, which, like all theories nourished by the
idea of conspiracies, itself amounts to a truth-claim superseding all
other truth-claims, and therefore equally is a claim to power. Thus, if
we take genealogy to be regulated by a notion of universal truth, it
82
becomes both self-refuting and without critical point. If we take gene-

alogy to be critical, it becomes both essentialist and hypocritical.114
If an analysis of political knowledge ever is to succeed, we should
perhaps stay within discourse, and do away with conspiracies. If
genealogy is critical, it is not because it permits us to judge the present
from a point outside history, but because it permits us to cut the
present down to size within it. Therefore, and pace Ashley, we should
suspend critical activity, since the only warrant of this criticism would
be a rather chimerical idea of a transhistorical and therefore uni-
versally valid communitarian backdrop from which to criticize the
theory and practice of sovereignty; as I shall argue later in this book,
the effective formation of such a cosmopolitan or transcendental back-
drop is itself a major episode of modernity.115
Above all, the discourse on sovereignty is a discourse on power,
but that does not imply that we ought to reduce it to an expression of
factual power relations or to a practice of concealment. Doing this
would merely bring us back into the presentism of a sociology of
knowledge which the hermeneutics of conflict helped us escape.
What we could retain, however, is the insight that power and know-
ledge are mutually productive, but within the confines of discourse.
The discourse on sovereignty is a discourse on the varying attributes
and changing locations of power within political discourse, but
power is not its essence or the source of its truth; rather, it is the
discourse on sovereignty, as it takes place within different logical
spaces and in different historical episodes, that tells us what power is
within each, and how it should be interpreted, known and measured.
Without a proper mode of knowledge to render it intelligible, sover-
eignty cannot exist, and loses its capacity to organize political reality
through a demarcation of inside from outside, of Same from Other.
Without a proper form of sovereignty, knowledge loses its power to
organize reality, and to constitute objects and fields of inquiry as well
as criteria of validity and truth. If truth is power, and power is truth,
this is so because of the different metaphorical relationships they
entertain within different forms of knowledge, within different
logical spaces, within different discourses; if these forms of know-
ledge, these logical spaces and these discourses are different, they are
so because of the specific juxtaposition of truth and power they
implicate. If we can observe transitions between them, it is because of
the battles going on within them; battles over sovereignty within
knowledge, and battles of different knowledges within the discourse
83
on sovereignty. This leads to the next problem; how to periodize

history from within?
Periodization and the present
As I said in chapter 1, knowledge is knowledge by differentiation. First,
a given knowledge constitutes itself as such by demarcating itself from
what is not knowledge, be it opinion or superstition. Second, it consti-
tutes itself by an internal differentiation by means of algorithm, which
permits us to discriminate between the clear and the opaque, the valid
and the invalid, the relevant and the irrelevant, the true and the false.
Doing this, a given knowledge necessarily implies a decision on ontol-
ogy: what does and what does not exist? From these decisions, two
other decisions follow: one ethical, which tells us who we are, who is a
friend, who is an enemy and who is a stranger, the other metahistori-
cal, which tells us where we came from, how we became friends, and
where we are heading. In short, knowledge is indissolubly intertwined
with decisions on identity and presence, and is thus inherently poli-
tical since these decisions invariably actualize conflicts over sover-
eignty.
As I also stated in the introduction, the historical part of this book is
broken down into three periods - the Renaissance, the Classical Age
and Modernity - with the aim of describing the genealogically crucial
episodes within them as well as effective transitions between them. In
this section, I shall venture some remarks on this periodization.
The first point is integral to the historical part of my argument: this
periodization is founded on the assumption that there are significant
epistemic changes between these periods, so that the answers pro-
vided to the above decisions on identity, presence and truth are, if not
wholly incommensurable across time, at least sufficiently distinct to
warrant the periodization as a heuristic device. This may well be
disputed, but so is necessarily all periodization. As such, periodization
is an activity both inductive and deductive; one abstracts from one's
familiarity with a material, and uses this abstraction to comprehend
the material itself, and one samples one's material on the basis of an
inherited idea of periods and their differentiation; periodization itself
always occurs within an episode, however unperiodized this period
may appear to the presentist or finalist historian.
The question becomes from whom one inherits the specific notion of
periodization, which in turn is a metahistorical or historiographical
question. As we shall have ample occasion to notice, each of the
84
periods singled out has its own episodical claim to newness and its
own claim to having transcended the past, a claim for which a peculiar
type of historiography figures as the ultimate warrant. In the Renais-
sance, the claim to rebirth is sustained precisely by a reclaiming of an
alien past - antiquity - and the subsequent transposition of traits from
this alien past in the shape of exempla into the present, effected by a
Valla or a Bude.116 In the Classical Age, the claim to newness rests on its
battle with passion, superstition and inherited tradition, fought most
vigilantly by Bacon and Descartes.117 During Modernity, the period
out of which we have not yet escaped, the claim to newness resides in
its episodical appropriation of history itself as a mode of being, its
reinvention and reconstruction of history into distinct ages and the
constructive powers attributed to the subject by Vico, Kant and
Hegel.118
If we take these claims to newness too seriously, history risks becom-
ing a pack of tricks the dead play on us; if we ignore them, we lose the
inductive foothold of our periodization. As genealogy tries to give
equal importance to its own sight and that of its object, a genealogy
must encompass these claims to newness, and take them for what they
are: historical events among others. Hence, they must be related to and
explained with reference to the particular discourse and the particular
knowledge which engender them. To be effective history, genealogy
must explain the exemplarity of its own episodes.
Another way of justifying a given periodization is to justify it from
without, either by reference to a received canon of history, or in
opposition to it. Here I do both. Since it has been disputed among
historians when the particular configuration of sovereignty which
separates yet relates the sovereign state with an international system
did arise, it is a secondary task to provide a commentary upon and a
partial historical explanation of these different claims, and how they
arose. This is the strategic argument for my periodization. The periodi-
zation is itself based on exempla constituted by modern historio-
graphy.
First, there is what I will label the Renaissance hypothesis. According to
nineteenth-century historians such as Heeren and twentieth-century
international political theorists such as Wight, the modern inter-
national system has its embryonic origin in the politics of the city-
states of Renaissance Italy, with the rise of diplomatic communications
and the scientification and monopolization of warfare as its chief
manifestations.119
85
Second, there is what I will label the Westphalian hypothesis, which

has had a pervasive impact on the study of international relations.
According to Bull and other proponents of this hypothesis, the inter-
national system was formed out of the turmoil of the Thirty Years War,
propelled by the consolidation of European states and their mutual
recognition of sovereignty as the principle of their future intercourse
in the treaty of Utrecht.120
Third, there is the Modernity hypothesis, which by contrast asserts that
the modern international system had to await its emergence until the
rise of the nation-state as the dominant form of political life in Europe,
with the spread of popular sovereignty and fervent nationalism as
both cause and effect of the internationalization of these features
themselves.121
A genealogy of sovereignty is not exclusively concerned with the
history of international political theory, which is a rather short one, but
with the formation of the necessary constituents of such a discourse,
and their relation to its emergence and later scientification. As a
consequence, it must delineate its conditions of possibility within
knowledge. As I shall argue in chapter 6, the configuration of sover-
eignty which makes the present distinction of the domestic and the
international spheres viable in theory and practice, is of fairly recent
and quite unexpected origin. Therefore, the above hypotheses have
more to do with the historicization of being which marks the advent of
modernity, and less to do with the specific pasts onto which this
historicLzation is superimposed retrospectively.
That is, if history is written from within itself, it is not only because
periods contain episodes, and episodes contain examples, but because
periodization must occur within an episode which itself is periodized
on the basis of exempla, which in turn have their exemplary status
determined by their place within an episode, which is an episode only
by virtue of being periodized. Thus, in my interpretation, the periods
singled out for investigation are two things simultaneously: first, they
form an identifiable regularity of statements, which together constitute
the logical spaces within which the discourse on sovereignty and the
discourse on knowledge are interfoliated; second, they constitute grids
of analysis and interpretation which I have constructed in order to be
able to analyse and render intelligible the multiple and complex corre-
lations between knowledge and sovereignty which take place within
each. Thus, within periods, the perspective of the analysis and the
perspective of the object of analysis necessarily converge. Between
86
periods, and as perspectives multiply, periods can be said, at least to a

certain extent, to analyse one another; not because of any ghostly
subjectivity on their part, but because knowledge has no outside.
In chapter 4,1 shall describe the formation of a general theory of the
state within Renaissance knowledge, arguing that this general theory
of the state, as it gradually came to encompass the genealogical
ancestors of the concept of sovereignty, also carved out a differenti-
ation between Christianity and a heterogeneous outside until Renais-
sance knowledge imploded in the face of it.
In chapter 5, I shall describe the formation of classical sovereignty
within the framework of classical knowledge, arguing that this
amounted to a massive rearrangement of the divide between inside
and outside, but that this rearrangement simultaneously was inheren-
tly fragile and unstable.
In chapter 6,1 shall describe how this classical differentiation and the
knowledge which sustained it were swept away in the wake of
modernity, and how it has been profoundly reorganized to obtain its
present shape, as was described in chapter 2.
87
Inventing outsides:
proto-sovereignty, exempla and the
general theory of the state in the
Renaissance
The sea has opened.

Machiavelli
As Carl Schmitt once remarked: 'All significant concepts of the modem

theory of the state are secularized theological concepts, not only
because of their historical development ... but also because of their
systematic structure.'1
As I have argued above, a genealogy of sovereignty is not a history
of its inferential connections with other political concepts, but a history
of its articulation within different knowledges, within different 'sys-
tematic structures'. The aim of this chapter is to trace the genealogy of
sovereignty from its prehistory within theology to its articulation
within Renaissance knowledge. Methodologically, however, this poses
problems. The very term sovereignty was not present within political
discourse until Beaumanoir introduced it in the thirteenth century,2
and even after that date, there is no autonomous discourse on sover-
eignty, if we by autonomous mean a discourse which has a single
system for the formation of statements.3 The same is true of the
concept of the state; during the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance,
the term status is used to denote many things, but never an abstract
entity, wholly disconnected from both ruler and ruled.4
Therefore, in this chapter, we must pay attention to the conceptual
antecedents of sovereignty and state, and their logical conditions of
possibility within theological, legal and political writings in the Middle
Ages and in the Renaissance.5 In doing this - and with perhaps undue
simplification - I will use the term mytho-sovereignty to cover the
mimetic paradigm of rulership in the early and high Middle Ages,
when the legitimacy of the ruler is founded on his resemblance with
88
Inventing outsides
Christ or God, and the term proto-sovereignty to cover the polity-

centred paradigm of rulership in the late Middle Ages, when the
legitimacy of the ruler derives from more profane sources.6
A secondary and strategic aim of this chapter is to provide a
comment upon the Renaissance hypothesis, which fixes the chrono-
logical origin of the disjunction between the state and the inter-
national onto the Renaissance, with the French invasion of Regnum
Italicum in 1494 as the decisive point of emergence, an event which
turned Italy into a battlefield after some decades of relative tranquillity
following the Peace of Lodi in 1454.7
It should be borne in mind that genealogical history opposes itself
directly to the search for origins and fixed limits, understood as the
attempt to capture the exact essence of things or their purest identity,
an ambition which perpetually nourishes debate and disagreements
among historians. Therefore, in aiming to provide a comment upon
this hypothesis, I do not mean to propose an alternative origin, only to
demonstrate that the talk of origin is problematic; genealogy is con-
cerned with the fabrication of identities and essences out of differences,
not with their purification.
As I shall argue, and then from a genealogical viewpoint, any talk
about something international during the Renaissance is unwarran-
ted, if international is taken to mean something - a system or a society
- dependent on yet ontologically distinguishable from individual
states. This is so for two different reasons. First, the sovereign state was
not individuated as an object of an autonomous political discourse at
this stage. Second, even if we readily can discern a discourse on
political entities, this discourse does not systematically account for the
relationship between fully individuated political units, but treats them
as instances of a pre-existent universal. To distinguish what was within
states and what was between states was not fully possible, either in
theory, or in practice.8
What we have - to borrow a term from Meinecke9 - is a general theory
of the state; a theory which as such does not presuppose an outside
other than a heterogeneous and largely unknown outside of a Respu-
blica Christiana. What I shall attempt to show, is how this general
theory of the state is sustained and articulated within a specific mode
of political knowledge, based on resemblance and validated by an
excess of exempla. As I shall attempt to make clear in my analysis of the
texts of Machiavelli, More and Vitoria, this general theory of the state,
together with the mode of knowledge which sustains it, is gradually
89
undermined during the sixteenth century as a result of its troubled

attempt to deal with what is outside its scope, an outside which to
some extent is positively constituted and defined by this very dis-
course.
This chapter is subdivided as follows. In the first section, I shall
briefly sketch the prehistory of the general theory of the state in terms
of its conditions of possibility and conceptual ancestry. In the second
section, I shall situate this theory within the space of Renaissance
knowledge, and then describe its articulation and crisis in the texts of
Machiavelli, More and Vitoria, each of which I shall treat as exemplary
of this episode.
The general theory of the state

Discussing the impact of natural law on the Renaissance concept of the
state, Otto Gierke notes that 'the State was no longer derived from the
divinely ordained harmony of the universal whole; it was no longer
explained as a partial whole which was derived from, and preserved
by, the existence of the greater: it was simply explained by itself.10 What
does it mean to be explained by itself? First, this image is indicative of a
peculiarity of knowledge. In order for some phenomenon to be
explainable by itself within a discursive space, the discursive space
itself must be, if not closed, then at least folded in upon itself. Know-
ledge must in a sense be total, and therefore inviolable; it must be
infinite within itself, and able to soak up everything and bring it under
its inviolable authority. In other words, the explanation itself must
share the same reality as that which is to be explained, and must be
situated at a level inseparable from its object. As we shall be able to
notice, the general theory of the state is a general theory precisely in
this respect, since it does not discriminate between statements and
their objects, but is built and validated within a knowledge which links
words and things together in an infinite series of resemblances of
events and episodes. Thus, within the general theory of the state,
legendary accounts and direct observation are intertwined within
knowledge. As I shall argue below, this aspect of the concept of the
state arises out of its troubled relationship to time.
Second, it points to an ontological peculiarity. Much like in Dante's
idea of a humanitas who crowns and mitres itself over itself,11 it implies
a reflexive ontological image, a liturgical and ceremonial space where
subject and object can coincide and constitute each other as such.
90
Inventing outsides
Evidently something exogenous and mystical is wanting if this space is

to be cleared: even if the state is 'no longer derived from the divinely
ordained harmony', it must nevertheless rest on a foundation which is
not wholly internal to itself, but which makes its reflexivity possible,
and permits it to occupy the dual positions of subject and object at one
and the same moment. In short, it implies a discursive space, a void or
a silence which is no longer a 'whole' but therefore nevertheless
necessary as an arena of emergence. As I shall argue below, this aspect
of the concept of the state emerges from the battle between universa-
lism and nominalism in medieval ontology.
In this section, the task is to describe how this theory of the state was
gradually assembled out of a mass of theological, legal and philosophi-
cal mutations within medieval discourse, the result of attempts to
settle the interpretive conflict over whom was to be the legitimate heir
to the subjectivity of Christ, and therefore, ultimately, to the sover-
eignty of God. As we shall see, this development culminates in a more
or less decisive break with the high medieval order, and the gradual
generalization of the theory of the state.
Mytho-sovereignty, analogy and allegory
At its most abstract level, high medieval Christian society was a univer-
sal society; it was universal insofar as the Church - the Ecclesia -
understood itself as an indivisible unity covering every aspect of man's
political and social being, and the preservation of this essential
wholeness was the prime purpose of earthly authority.12 This society
was also universal in the sense that it remained insensitive to all
ethnical, regional and linguistic difference; all social forms were sub-
sumed under the Christian norm. Its structural unity and the uniform-
ity of its content were both ontologically associated with the idea of an
immutable hierarchical order connecting micro- and macrocosm
together in a preordained and harmonious relationship.
Thus, the Ecclesia is something more than the aggregate of persons
who compose it; it is a mystical body transcending the material exist-
ence of its component particulars, which in turn stand in a relation of
functional, organic and ontological dependence to the overarching
whole, without which they could not be imagined to exist.
This societal whole was conceived of as an earthly expression of a
heavenly pattern; the ultimate task of the Ecclesia and its ruler was to
guide the body of the faithful from its transitory and earthly existence
towards salvation and eternal life, thus effecting a final reunion with
91
the transcendent order. The earthly community was a means to a
higher end, and its existence wholly subordinated to it.13
The ultimate source of medieval authority was laid down in the
Petrine commission, according to which Christ had instituted the
universal body of the faithful and handed it over to St Peter and his
successors, who - according to the doctrine - were designated to rule
over as well as to represent and personalize this mystical reality. The
source of all authority, whether in terms of papal plenitudo potestatis or
lay imperium, gubernaculum or majestas, was divine; all legitimate power
descended from God downwards. According to Matthew, 'Thou art
Peter and upon this rock I will build my church... And I will give unto
thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatever thou shalt bind
on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on
earth shall be loosed in heaven'.14
The genealogy of the conceptual antecedents to sovereignty is very
complex and conditioned by the perennial contest between ecclesi-
astical and lay power, between the unresolvable claims to exclusive
authority by sacerdotium and imperium respectively throughout the
Middle Ages; the very demarcation between the temporal and the
spiritual was itself a spiritual matter, a question of the proper division
of authority within one single body with one single head.15 As Kanto-
rowicz has shown, the question of the proper locus of supreme auth-
ority involved a continuous exchange of the concepts, symbols, insig-
nia and legal axioms of authority between the church and secular
authority, with the effect that theological elements were gradually
transposed to a secular setting.16 This substitution, duplication and
transmission of signs are visible in the genealogy of authority and
subjectivity, taking us from God to king.
In the christomimetic paradigm of rulership, the king is a twinned
being, half human, half divine, and holds his powers by the grace of
God. These powers, along with his dual character, are bestowed upon
him by liturgy and sacramental action before the altar, signifying the
duplication of these natures in Christ, and symbolizing his link with
God and his distinctive position over and above the community of
mortals. The sacramental actions - coronation and anointment - were
administered by officers of the church, which made lay rulers both de
facto and de iure dependent on papal authority.17
Gradually, however, and as the idiom of Roman law began to
penetrate theological discourse on authority during the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, the christological and liturgical paradigm was
92
Inventing outsides
superseded. Law was substituted for the dual subjectivity of Christ as
the mimetic principle of and mediating link between God and king.
The position, attributes and symbolism of rulership remained intact in
the course of this transition; what changed, however, was the prin-
ciple of transmission from God to king. As a consequence, the king
became a hypostasis or an articulation of an immortal, semi-divine idea
of law and justice.18 Witness Aegidius Romanus, in his De Regimine
Principum (1277-9): 'the king or prince is a kind of Law, and the Law is
a kind of king or prince. For the Law is a kind of inanimate prince; the
prince, however, a kind of animate Law. And insofar as the animate
exceeds the inanimate the king or prince must exceed the law.'19
But how was it possible to sustain these models of political subjecti-
vity - of king as Christ or king as lex animata? In the Middle Ages, the
questions of authority and the questions of ontology were rigorously
intertwined, so that a solution to each more or less automatically
implied a solution to the other. As Wilks has remarked, 'the failure to
find a universally acceptable philosophical system was itself the root
cause of the conflicts in medieval political thought. The constitutional
theories of the age were no more than an expression in terms of
government of all the discordant elements in contemporary phil-
osophy.'20
However, if we for a moment suspend the ceaseless disputes over
ontology and authority which characterize the high medieval texts,
and instead focus on the mode of knowledge which makes them
possible, we are bound to notice how this knowledge rests on complex
isomorphic relations within the universal whole and between its com-
ponent parts, paving the way for an endless series of analogies and
allegories.
First, knowledge, in the sense of memory and the retrieval of legal
documents, was largely monopolized by the church. Papal superiority
in the legal disputes which arose during the Investiture Contest was
facilitated by a gradual accumulation of archives and registers. The
church had a past of its own, consisting of a continuity of texts linked
together by a continuity of commentary and interpretation; its oppo-
nents possessed no such past. What was outside this body of texts,
ranging as it did from the very words of God down to the tiniest legal
protocol, was not admitted as knowledge. Thus, in the midst of the
Investiture Contest, when the pope was confronted with the protests
of the German emperor Henry IV, who held that what he was doing
was in perfect consonance with the custom of his predecessors, the
93
pope could quite confidently reply: 'The Lord did not say "I am
custom", but the Lord said "I am the Truth".'21
Second, knowledge, in a less material sense, rested on analogy, and
was dependent on allegory for its dissemination and reproduction.
Within a universalist ontology, everything must take on meaning
against the backdrop of the transcendent whole. The various isomor-
phies, ranging from the celestial order of things down to its various
earthly instances, were linked together through a logically infinite
series of analogies. As Delany has pointed out, analogy establishes
reciprocal logical relations between disparate things; it creates an
economy of identity and difference between different systems on
different levels of complexity. However, both analogy, and its special
case, allegory, are circular; they must presuppose the very universalist
framework they articulate, disseminate, reproduce and put into
operation. Its 'truth' must be present right from the start; analogy and
allegory cannot produce new knowledge, only reproduce what
already is manifest in its premises. It speaks to the already convinced;
it disseminates, distributes and demonstrates, but it does not have the
power reserved for God: to create?2
Within political knowledge, and closely interlinked with the genea-
logical transition of authority from God to king, is the corpus-anima
analogy. Originally, within the christomimetic paradigm, it was used
to express in neo-platonic terms the relationship between priesthood
and laity; the former stood to the latter in a relationship analogous to
that between soul and body; the latter marked by the stigma of the
corporeal and perishable, the former with its fair share of divinity.
When later transferred to the temporal realm as a model of rulership, it
took on a slightly different meaning. Just as a natural body necessarily
needs to be animated by a soul, so a social body must be infused by the
spirit of right and law, embodied in the ruler. In John of Salisbury's
Policraticus (1159), the soul is symbolized by the prince, who rightly is
the head of government, and the functions of each inferior part of the
body are duly subordinated to that of the whole; the assembly is
compared to the heart; governors and judges with eyes and ears; the
fisc with the stomach, and so forth.23
Third, if knowledge based on analogy and allegory permitted the
reproduction and dissemination of the textual justification for the
mimetic paradigm of rulership, it had a counterpart in the visual
expression of the same relationships. Both coronation ceremonies and
court entries closed the gap between the articulable and the visible,
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Inventing outsides
and validated the articulable by means of the visible within the same
general structure of universalist discourse.
As noted above, the coronation and anointment of emperors and
kings were from the ninth century onwards liturgical acts in which
image and reality were brought to coincide, and the theocratic char-
acter of kingship put into relief. However, the coronation rituals
continued long after the liturgical act had lost its constitutive import-
ance and had ceased to be an effective instrument of ecclesiastical
power. This is also largely true of court entries, festivals and funeral
rites which enjoyed an upsurge during the Renaissance, even when
much of their theological underpinnings had lost their theoretical
significance in the overall structure of political discourse.24
Perhaps some of the continuing significance of these rituals can be
explained in terms of the symbolism they contained; both coronation
and anointment touched the head of the ruler, thus conveying the
importance of the head or 'soul' as the pivotal point on which the
influx of divine grace was combined with a concentration of power.
Furthermore, both coronation ceremonies and later also court entries
and festivals allowed for a dramatic exploitation of spatial metaphors:
seated on his throne, the king's position over and above his subjects
cannot be doubted even by the illiterate mind. Finally, these rituals,
especially as they were subjected to a gradual technical and scenogra-
phic development, became more important for the dissemination of
specific and more complex political messages. They could fulfil the
same set of persuasive and didactic functions as the speculum princeps
did to the literate audience, the very idea of specula itself reliant on a
visual and optical metaphorics;25 the sacred origin of a dynasty, its
glorious history and its present virtues could be rhetorically dissemi-
nated to an audience which believed that truth resided in and could be
apprehended in images and visual statements.26
But how, one may ask, is it possible for such a universalist order to
change; does it even recognize such a possibility within itself?
Proto-sovereignty, time, continuity and exempla
Posed at the metahistorical level, the question of change invariably
involves the question of time. At least since Plato's Timaeus, the ques-
tion of time had proven a perennial enigma to Western philosophy:
does time exist, and if it does, how is it possible to know and measure
it? It is in and through the varying responses to this question that the
emergence of the general theory of the state must be understood.
95
What, then, is time? During late antiquity this question had pro-
voked sceptical scorn: time is not; time has no being since the future is
not yet, the past is no longer, and the present does not remain.27 It is
against the backdrop of this scepticism we should understand August-
ine's reply to the problem, as it is presented in the eleventh Confession
(c. 397): yet if time does not exist, we certainly understand time when
we speak of it, and we understand it when we hear it spoken of.28
Augustine's solution to the problem of time is to relegate the
problem itself from the cosmological level to the level of subjectivity
and intenrionality; if past, present and future do exist, they do so by
being located in the soul, and then by its distention into modalities:
'For these three do somehow exist in the soul, and otherwise I see
them not: present of things past, memory; present of things present,
sight; present of things future, expectation.'29
What makes this quite enigmatic solution possible to sustain and to
project onto experience is the contrast between time and eternity,
which it dramatizes into ethical opposition. To Augustine, tempus
signifies the createdness and therefore also the transitoriness of the
present world; time is as finite as this world, and has been created
together with the transitory world, and will coexist with it from
creation to the last day.30
In contrast to time, and as its ultimate limit as finite, perishable and
momentary existence stands zternitas, a timeless stratum of uncreated
and therefore immutable being, symbolized by the eternity of God,
and in which past and future are contained in one single and unmov-
ing present.31
To this contrast corresponds a hierarchy of values: finite tempus
carries the stigma of man's fragile and incomplete existence in the
sinister, yet for the time being inescapable, terrestrial condition,
whereas eternity signifies the singular legitimate aim of Christian
salvation and transcendence; the relation between time and eternity
marks the distance between God and his creation, the latter being
entrapped in time, and his subjectivity dispersed in it as memory,
perception and expectation.32
If change does occur, it does so as a transition from time to superior
eternity, or from one time to an inferior time. As Ricoeur has remarked:
'Time must be thought of as transitory in order to be fully experienced
as transition.'33 That is, change is either positive and vertical, and then
involves salvation, a transition of the earthly community into a spirit-
ual realm of concord, harmony and happiness, or, it is negative and
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Inventing outsides
horizontal, involving dissolution, decay, destruction, dissimilitude and

discord; time is inherently corrosive.34
With the gradual reception of Aristotelian texts in the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, time underwent profound change, as did the
notion of change.35 To Aristotle, as to a great part of early Greek
antiquity, the concept of time was connected to, however not identical
with, the movement of physical bodies in space,36 an argument
rejected by Augustine.37 From this connection, once released from the
Platonic doctrine of the createdness of time, the step was short to
asserting the uncreatedness of the world and the infinite continuity of
time as well. These tenets, when gradually incorporated into scholastic
philosophy, emphasized the permanency of the world against its
previous transitoriness, and brought with them an ethical transvalu-
ation of time; from being a sign of the ephemeral, time became a sign of
endless duration, of immortality.38
In an effort to counter this potentially dangerous conceptual trans-
formation, scholastic philosophy tried to split the difference between
eternity and time, through the reintroduction of a middle term men-
tioned yet largely unaccounted for by Augustine; the aveum, situated
between xternitas and tetnpus.39 Originally the home of angels - and
later also of their subterranean counterparts - aveum had connoted
both infiniteness and duration, but also motion and change. Whatever
entities came to reside in this stratum were understood to be immu-
table, however. Thus, in the aveum, continuity and sempiternity were
joined together within an ontological stratum which in itself was
discontinuous in character.40
These mutations in the concept of time had three consequences that
together made possible the general theory of the state, and the simul-
taneous erosion of the mimetic concept of rulership. These sets of
consequences followed different chronologies of dissemination,
however.
First, the opening of the aveum had profound consequences for
political ontology, since this idea of sempiternity both presupposed an
account of and made it possible to account for the existence of univer-
sals other than in purely liturgical and transcendental terms. Above all,
this meant that things previously understood as discontinuous or
transitory now could be understood as continuous.
Thus, the body politic could be accounted for as something ontologi-
cally separate from the existence of the ruler within it, yet as some-
thing continuous, transcending the life of the ruler in time and space.
97
The symbols, concepts and insignia of rulership and authority could

be depersonalized, deprived of momentary liturgical backing, and
instead vested with sempiternal existence. The realm or body politic
stood thus above the corrosive influence of transitory time; at this
point, we witness the first steps towards a theory of inalienability,
which implies a set of rights well separated from those of the indi-
vidual king, and, consequently, the notion of an impersonal Crown
protected against alienation through prescription.41
Within a given realm, it was now possible to act as if the world were
infinite. If the state never dies, one can tie the currents of its inner life
to a calendar based on the recurrent pattern of movement displayed
by heavenly bodies; for example, it is possible to administer permanent
annual taxation with reference to a continuous necessity and link it to
the calendar, until it finally becomes a recognized right of the sover-
eign state.42
Moreover, if the life and being of the body politic transcends that of
its individual inhabitants in time and space, the regnum can demand
their sacrifice for the sake of the patria, by the same token as God could
claim sacrifice from the community of faithful; wars could be waged
for the defence of the patria as they had been waged against the infidel,
and the protection of the patria became an imperative as important as
the protection of the Faith. The immortality of the body politic is
contrasted with the mortality of the individuals within it, and the latter
fact could be used to substantiate the former myth.43
Furthermore, as the concepts, symbols and insignia of rulership took
on sempiternal existence as universals, and as the contest between
church and lay authorities gradually was resolved in favour of the
latter, they also took on spatial connotations. The body politic could be
understood as something continuous not only in time, but also as
something continuous in space, and became connected with the
concept of territory; the conceptual history of fiscus and patria is a
history of emergent spatial connotations.44
In a significant episode, the substantial connection between the
body politic and territory was forged in the clash between legal
discourses that occurred in an effort to resolve the conflict between
imperial claims to dominion and royal independence in the second
half of the thirteenth century. This resolution was effected by a
reversal of the hierarchy between legal interpretations, a reversal of
the de facto and de iure notions of independence. In this legal battle,
French publicists and Neapolitan jurists such as Marinus and Andreas
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Inventing outsides
de Isernia set out to dismantle the de iure imperial overlordship advo-

cated by Emperor Henry VII against the then undeniable de facto
independence of the French king,45 and - more fiercely - against
Robert of Naples, who was summoned to appear before the emperor
in 1312, accused of having committed the crimen Ixsae majestatis.
Robert, ignoring the edict, simply could not see the point in this
accusation, since he himself recognized no superior within his realm.
Finally, this legal dispute was resolved in favour of the royal claims to
independence, and the imperial assertion of de iure supremacy was
brushed aside by pope Clement V, when in the Pastoralis Cum (1313) he
gave formal expression to the idea of territorial limitations of sover-
eignty and hence final practical legitimacy to the formula rex in regno
suo est imperator, where regno now had acquired an unequivocal terri-
torial signification.46 Thus, by the beginning of the fourteenth century,
the continuous existence in time and space granted to a body politic
makes it possible to speak, albeit not without anachronism, of a state,
which, for all its apparent secularity, retained 'a whiff of incense from
another world'.47 Witness a passage from Baldus's Consilia: 'A realm
contains not only the material territory but also the peoples of the
realm ... And the totality or commonweal of the realm does not die,
because a commonweal continues to exist even after the kings have
been driven away. For the commonweal cannot die ... it lives
forever.'48
Second, apart from the consequences for political ontology, the new
concept of time had a profound epistemic import. Within the space
carved out inside continuous political beings, time becomes accessible
to measurement on the basis of recurrent patterns displayed by the
motion of heavenly bodies and the succession of natural phenomena.
If Augustinian time was marked by its transitoriness, Aristotelian time
is marked by its recurrence, either in unchanging cyclical patterns or in
the successions of events within immutable strata.49 To the cyclical and
reversible pattern of planetary movements and annual seasons corres-
ponds the cyclical pattern of constitutional change in Aristotle, which
takes us from degeneration and regeneration, and back. To the irrever-
sible succession of natural events such as birth and death correspond
the dynastic successions within a continuous state.50
For political knowledge, the consequences of this mutation cannot
be underestimated; if time recurs, history must also repeat itself
infinitely. History is substituted for Augustinian memory as a clue to
the past; it becomes possible to learn from the past, even though the
99
knowing subject is alienated from this past as he is from the future,

and situated in a present which is no longer continuous with his
memory and expectation. If time is continuous, it can contain disconti-
nuities which affect claims to validity and authenticity: as Lorenzo
Valla pointed out in 1440, the Donation of Constantine, a document
used to boost papal claims to power for almost a millennium, was a
forgery since it was based on a series of apparent anachronisms.51
If nothing is new under the sun, but nevertheless changes according
to recurrent patterns, what happens in the past will only preserve its
validity as a guide to present as well as future action if it is carefully
selected from the body of past experience and grafted onto an appro-
priate context that is defined in terms of its resemblance with other
contexts. From this point on, historical narrative as well as political
argument proceed by means of exempla.52
In Aristotle's Rhetorics, the use of exempla is described as a means of
persuasion, as a means of producing belief in an audience.53 As such,
an exemplum crosses the boundary between past and present, and the
distinction between what is represented and what represents; it
denotes both that which is exemplified and that which exemplifies. It is
thus bound to disturb any fixed opposition between appearance and
reality and set it in rhetorical motion.54
In its late medieval and Renaissance context, argument by means of
exempla comes to constitute the core of the political knowledge of
continuous political beings, but its validity is not circumscribed by
these beings and their concrete conditions of existence in time and
space. Instead, this political knowledge is projected onto their diverse
and alien pasts on the basis of a resemblance between these pasts,
often found to be legendary; the founding subjectivity of Christ is
exposed to competition from the founding subjectivity of a Lycurgus, a
Moses, a King Utopus, or, most dramatically, a Quetzalcoatl.
The validity of these accounts comes through the back door, as it
were: the theory of the state, emerging from the mass of theological
concepts and inscribed within sempiternity, is generalized by the mass
of exempla, and has its range of validity defined by them. Hence, what
the general theory of the state has to say about political beings is as
applicable to the Roman Empire as it is to a tiny diocese or magistracy,
but with the important qualification that the episodes, events or beings
commented upon must display morphological similarity. To keep
political knowledge by means of exempla going, a cosmology centred
around the notion of resemblance is necessary. In the next section, I
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Inventing outsides
shall elaborate the notion of resemblance and its connection with the
rhetoric of exempla.
The third set of consequences pertains to the ethical level, where,
now outside the continuity of the body politic, we find the stigma of
transitoriness. If the state grows out of sempiternity in order to find its
continuity warranted within it, the ethical negativity formerly allotted
to Augustinian time now resides outside it, and poses a constant threat
to it in the shape of contingency, difference, discord, and war. What is
opposed is no longer eternity and time, the word of God and the voice
of man, but the continuous state and the presence of contingency on
its outside. What is outside the continuous state is also outside the
scope of the general theory of the state, and therefore beyond the
grasp of political knowledge, since what is outside the state is also
outside the steady flow of recurrent time; outside the state, exempla
find their validity undermined. As we shall see below, Machiavelli,
More and Vitoria all face this otherness, but present different solutions
to how it is to be overcome. Before this can be done, there remains one
more episode to explore in the genealogy of conceptual antecedents.
Proto-sovereignty, nominalism and the outside
One way to characterize mytho-sovereignty is to say that it was largely
a descending theory of government. All power and all authority come
from a transcendental sphere above, and the social body is a passive
recipient of its animating force. By the same token, proto-sovereignty
has been characterized as an ascending theory of government, with
power and authority flowing from the immanent source of an earthly
community.55
In the standard account of this theoretical transition, great emphasis
has been placed on the reception and dissemination of Aristotle's
ethical and political writings, most notably his Politics.56 Whereas the
swiftness and transformative power of this reception has been recently
contested, the overall impact of Aristotelian thought is not.57 In an age
when ontology was a continuation of politics by other means, the
translation and revival of Aristotelian texts brought forth conceptual
resources foreign to and potentially destructive of the universalist
order.
The early medieval period had not known any independent cate-
gory of human activity called politics; what is anachronistically label-
led political during the Middle Ages is what was expressed in terms of
law alone.58 Whether it was William of Moerbeke's translation of
101
Aristotle's Politics that catalysed the transition from the descending to

the ascending theory of government or not remains contested; yet
with it came the term politikos, and its derivatives polis and zoon
politikon inscribed within a coherent discourse.59
These concepts themselves referred to ideas alien to the descending
theory of government. The term politikos carried the connotation of a
ruler who was not logically placed above the law and the community,
but instead had his authority both enabled and circumscribed by
them.60 The term polis conveyed the idea of a political community, not
instituted by divine grace or through duplication of a transcendental
community, but which grew from below as a result of the historical
collaboration between natural forces and human reason.61 Finally, the
term zoon politikon carried a death blow to the subjectivity of man as
defined by his place in a universal order whose justification lay in the
promise of transcendence. Man emerged as a social and political
animal, distinguished by his reason, his sociability, and his capacity for
deliberate transformation of his political predicament.62
The troubled reception of these ideas within scholastic discourse is
well known, as is the incommensurability between the orders of
nature and grace it fostered; the one human, the other divine; the one
based on reason, the other based on faith and revelation.63
On the one hand, this incommensurability sharpened the logical
divide between sacerdotiutn and imperium, but left the question of their
proper interrelationship largely unresolved.64 On the other, the Tho-
mistic mediation sought to reconcile universalism and the nominalism
resulting from radical interpretations of Aristotle.65
It is against the backdrop of these ontological disputes that we
should pose the question of the outside, and its conditions of possi-
bility; how do the reversals and mediations between universalism and
nominalism affect the relationship to the outside which was opened
up by time? How does political theology respond to the Occamist
thesis that 'every whole is nothing other than the sum of its parts taken
together',66 and hence to the claim that universal substances not only
are unreal, but violate a law of economy?
In the Defensor Pads (1324), the ascending theory of government, as
well as the claims to independence raised by Italian city-states, are
systematically backed by nominalism and naturalism, while papal
claims to power are systematically refuted. What is of interest here,
however, is not the impact of the Defensor on the opinionated forces of
the day, but the discursive space within which the conflict between
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Inventing outsides
universalism and nominalism is staged, and how the line between
what is inside the state and what is outside it is drawn.
First, the idea of a divine origin of power and authority is dismissed
as an article of faith rather than an idea susceptible to rational proof.67
The aims of the state are defined teleologically as the preservation of
its health as a self-subsistent body and the well-being of its constituent
parts.68 The state is man-made; its purpose is a purely terrestrial one,
and its existence disconnected from otherworldly ends. Consequently,
all authority flows from the legislator humanus, who is the efficient and
primary cause of all law, and who conditions the separation of the
parts of the state.69 The state is a particular unity, not because it is
universal within itself, but because it subsumes its parts under a law of
economy. Unity within the state is numerical unity, since it is 'a unity
of order; it is not an absolute unity, but rather a plurality of men who
are said to be some one thing in number not because they are one in
number formally but rather because they are said to be related to one
thing in number'.70
Second, the state is now brought down to earth, but it still retains a
purpose - albeit now a profane one - in the core of its concept. But
Marsiglio was not able - any more than other writers of the period - to
escape the ideal of a single universal and unified body politic, constitut-
ing the ultimate scope of authority and governed by one single head;
the main arguments of the Defensor are cast in universal terms, as if the
solutions proposed to the problems flowing from a political nominalism
themselves are universally applicable whenever the political condition
within a universal body is beset by plurality. Marsiglio assumes the
possibility of a multitude of communities whose inner and outer life are
regulated by the universalist framework elaborated in the Defensor, and
thereby begs the question of mediation. This constitutes the essential
tension of the Defensor: for how can a plurality of particular states be
imagined within and reconciled with a universal body politic?
Dante had wrestled with the same problem in Monarchia (c.1309),
and, unable to solve it, had been pushed back in a universalist direct-
ion by assuming the necessity of one single ruler for mankind as a
whole, itself ultimately subordinated to a divine end.71
But now, in the First Discourse, in which Marsiglio sets out to prove
the necessity of the numerical unity of supreme government in a
particular state by means of a razor argument, the argument from
economy itself supports its particularity. In one single city or state,
there must be only one single supreme authority, because
203
if there were several governments in the city or state, and they were
not reduced or ordered under one supreme government, then the
judgement, command and execution of matters of benefit and justice
would fail, and because men's injuries would therefore be unavenged
the result would be fighting, separation, and finally the destruction of
the city or the state.72
To the economy of ontology corresponds an economy of authority;

to posit the existence of more entities than necessary in an argument
has an outcome analogous to the discord that follows from com-
petition over authority within one single body politic; a body politic is
one and single by virtue of a singularity of authority within it; we see
here the naked nominalist logic behind the indivisibility thesis later
articulated by Bodin. Faced from the outside, the economy of authority
yields the same result; singular authority makes it easier for the
community as a whole to 'avoid harmful impending dangers such as
are presented by external ... enemies who intend to oppress the
community and to take away its freedom'.73 Here, and as a con-
sequence of its teleological and nominalist underpinnings, the state
has an outside; it is inscribed within a void together with a plurality of
other states,74 each being in turn composed of lesser parts, with the
individual zoon politikon as the least of them.
Now what is universal amidst this plurality seems to be plurality
itself, whether this plurality pertains to what is inside the state, or
whether the same plurality pertains to the multitude of states them-
selves, which are 'almost necessarily separate from one another in
place, and especially for men who use different languages and who
differ widely in morals and customs'.75
With this line of reasoning in mind, we could expect to find a
clear-cut refutation of papal claims to universal dominion. In the
Second Discourse, Marsiglio stumbles upon the problem of world
government:
[T]he necessity that there be a single head in a single household is not
the same as the necessity that there be a single head in a whole state
or in several provinces, because those who are not members of the
same familial household do not need the numerical unity of a single
family head ... our opponent's [papalistic] reasoning would conclude
that it is equally necessary that there be a numerically single head in
the entire world, which is neither expedient nor true. For in order
that men may live together in peace, it is sufficient that there be a
numerically single government in each province.76
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Inventing outsides
To a modern theorist of international politics, this argument would

seem impermissibly naive. What it does indicate, however, is the
presuppositional structure of Marsiglio's thesis. The pope is thrown
out because it is supposed - in accordance with the law of economy -
that he is unnecessary within the political order, not because the
universalist framework itself is redundant or unwanted. Rather, it
seems to be the other way around; the universalist premise is assumed
to be valid right from the start, and this to the extent that it does not
need backing from overarching authority; Occam's razor cuts out
papal authority as an unwarranted premise of this order, and turns its
presence into an outcome of a prior and highly undesirable act of
usurpation. Thus, the outside of the state, as it is opened up by
Marsiglio, is but another inside within the big inside, the universalist
framework of reasoning; the nominalist argument gains cutting edge
only within this framework; without it, there would be nothing to cut
out in the first place.
If we want to find an outside which is not an inside of another inside
during the later Middle Ages, we must inquire into the metaphorical
limit of the political world, and how this limit is connected to the
theory and practice of proto-sovereignty. We have many examples of
how Christianity as a whole deals discursively with the external arena
during the Crusades; we have very few examples of how such dealings
are connected to its inner political fragmentation.
One such example is provided by the discourse on piracy; it is
perhaps no coincidence that Bartolus, one of the most ardent defend-
ers of the independence of states from papacy and empire, was among
the first to confront the problem of piracy systematically in Tractatus
Represaliarum (1353), since it represented a test case of the extent of
independence.77
Of course, piracy itself was nothing new in the early fourteenth
century; it had threatened coastal traffic in the Mediterranean since
antiquity, and had perhaps contributed to the otherness associated
with the oceans before the age of discovery. The seas - except for the
Mediterranean - were still largely unexplored and uncharted,78 and
figured metaphorically as barriers to political knowledge and auth-
ority; authority did not extend far out to sea, and beyond its scope
lurked an unknown and unnavigable outside, a non-territorial
element not susceptible to human mastery. Thus, to Dante's monarch,
the 'ocean alone is the limit of ... jurisdiction'.79
What was new about piracy, however, was the way it was sys-
205
tematically linked to the discursive practices of the early states -
notably Genoa, Sicily and Naples - and its gradual 'legalization' with
constant reference to the formula of proto-sovereignty, which by the
1330s had become common legal stock.
The fast dissemination and elaboration of the formula of proto-
sovereignty soon gave rise to competing claims between states about
sovereignty over the seas. On the basis of such theory, each state could
- and did - proclaim an inalienable right to jurisdiction over the seas,
and attempted to overrule reciprocal claims made by feudal lords as
well as other states. These claims were backed by the creation of a new
office, the admiralty, which exercised jurisdiction over the seas.
Most of the admirals had been trained for their post in the pro-
fession of pirate, and now continued their old business with royal
authorization. A practice formerly occupying a judicial borderline
zone, since it had been as often an excuse for war as a pretext for
juridical action on behalf of feudal lords, began to fit into the legal
categories which were derived from the formula of proto-sovereignty,
and which brought a certain order and systematic character to the
practice of reprisal.
To be sure, the practices of marque and reprisal were not new to
the early fourteenth century; these forms of largely private violence
were of Roman ancestry. If a man from one city suffered a loss or
injury at the hands of a man from another city, he was legally
entitled to recoup his loss or avenge his injury by taking the goods of
his antagonist's compatriots, or inflicting a corresponding injury
upon them. This practice was not only considered excusable and
officially sanctioned, but also regarded as inevitable throughout the
high Middle Ages.80
Now the practices of piracy and reprisal were also potent political
weapons, and enjoyed a shadowy existence somewhere between
illegality and war; at sea, this distinction was even less clear-cut than
on land at this time. What was left to learned jurisprudence was not
only the task of legitimizing this practice by explaining how and why
the innocent should suffer for crimes of which others were guilty.
More importantly, the jurists were forced to refine their argu-
mentation with respect to the legitimate locus of the right of reprisal;
without proper control, the practice of reprisal could easily degener-
ate into continuous violence, with disruptive consequences for trade
and revenue. The solution was provided by linking the practice
of reprisal to the discourse on just war; precisely as the waging of
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Inventing outsides
war demanded authorization by a superior authority, so now did

reprisals.81
The significance of this episode is that it involves a twofold articu-
lation. First, the inward practice of proto-sovereignty is systematically
linked to the outward practice of piracy; inward fragmentation con-
ditions outward articulation, and vice versa. Second, piracy is sys-
tematically organized and to some extent domesticated within the
discourse on proto-sovereignty, and the discourse on proto-
sovereignty, in its turn, is articulated and refined against the backdrop
of piracy, which had hitherto been an Other, an element foreign to
authority and political knowledge.
In the above episodes, we have seen how a general theory of the
state is gradually assembled out of the most disparate elements. Theo-
logical concepts and symbols are fused with elements from Roman
Law, and given a literally new reality through the ontological
mutations that occur once aristotelian writings are absorbed into theo-
logical and legal discourse.
The omnipotence of God and the primordial subjectivity of Christ,
the objects of a ceaseless clash of interpretations throughout the
Middle Ages, gradually yield to the twin pressures of cosmological
time and political nominalism; the discourse on the locus and scope of
authority is brought down to earth, but so are its teleological and
eschatological underpinnings. The promise of harmony and peace
becomes this-worldly and inscribed into the essence of political beings.
But to this natural kind, which is held to be continuous in time and
space, is opposed what is accidental and foreign to it.
Therefore, if the nominal state is inscribed within a field of sem-
piternity, a new space of estrangement is opened up in the course of
this process. Although the terrestrial condition of medieval man
alienated him from his creator and from eternity, Augustinian eter-
nity could nevertheless render meaningful both the accidental and
the transitory by presenting it as integral to man's lowly terrestrial
condition. But Aristotelian time and nominalism render them utterly
meaningless, and instead transpose and reinscribe man's alienation
onto a new and imagined surface, an outside of contingency and
dissimilitude which sets a limit both to authority and to knowledge.82
In the next section, I shall focus on the discursive construction of this
outside, and the simultaneous attempt to cope with it from a preca-
rious position within a political knowledge itself involved in the act
of demarcation.
107
Inventing outsides
One possible way to approach the sixteenth-century Renaissance is to
consider it as a crisis of meaning, as an age in which the founding word
of God has become increasingly opaque and ambiguous, and therefore
open to diverse interpretations. If God had created the world through
one single discursive gesture, he had also woven words and things
together in a web of perfect significance, reflecting the perfection of his
creation and providing unequivocal clues to its decoding. Words are
things, things are words; ontologically sign and signified are insepara-
ble, but since they coexist within a preordained harmony, they speak
the same language and are accessible within the same knowledge.
But what happens if their fundamental unity is preserved, but their
harmonious intersection is disturbed and destabilized? What if the
event at Babel comes true in the new time?
At the same time, Renaissance Europe is marked by political crisis;
the papacy had proved to be increasingly impotent as an arbiter of
conflicts between the rising states, and this development coincided
with the stepwise expansion of the Ottoman empire, the only agent on
the external arena taken seriously by Christianity. While the presence
of something so clearly anti-Christian posed a very material threat
indeed, the discovery of non-Christian forms of life in the Americas
posed an analogous theoretical threat to the stability of Christian
values.
Perhaps the body of Renaissance knowledge, with its strange yet
fairly coherent blend of magic, emergent rationality and ancient
exempla, is better understood against the backdrop of such disorganiz-
ing events; in this case, Renaissance knowledge can be understood as
an effort to restore a broken order by making everything speak again
with one voice, by bringing together the visibility of things and the
articulability of words, so that things can be read and words seen.83
At the most general level, and thanks to the neo-platonist revival,84
Renaissance knowledge is a knowledge of resemblance between
entities whose unity has been shattered; of resemblance between
things and of their resemblance to signs. Resemblances proliferate
throughout the Renaissance universe; they are able to constitute a
chain of things on the basis of their spatial proximity in which 'each
species always preserves the same course in its motion so that it always
proceeds from this place to that place and, in turn, recedes from the
latter to the former, in a certain most harmonious manner'.85 Con-
108
Inventing outsides
sequently, what is found at the beginning of a chain of things, is

always found in a similar form at its end, since otherwise 'it would not
be directed to one determined region, or quality, or substance, rather
than to any other whatsoever'.86 Furthermore, resemblances are able
to constitute series of concentric circles containing disparate elements
so that 'some elements, because of a certain heaviness, descend to the
centre of the universe; while others because of their lightness, ascend
to the vault of the superior sphere'.87 As a consequence, what is found
at a lower level of existence always mirrors what is found at a higher
level, and conversely. We need only to perceive, by means of axiom or
by means of magic,
the reciprocal affinity of natures, and applying to each single thing
the suitable and peculiar inducements [magus] brings forth into the
open the miracles concealed in the recesses of the world, in the
depths of nature, and in the storehouses and mysteries of God, just as
if she herself were their maker; and, as the farmer weds his elms to
vines, even so does the magus wed earth to heaven, that is, he weds
lower things to the endowments and powers of higher things.88
Representation, as we know it, is not yet an open possibility; words
and things are not correlated within a matrix, or ordered in strict
intersection with one another. If there is representation, it is modelled
on optical metaphors; what we have is ceaseless reflection, which
draws words and things together by visualizing the articulable, and
articulating the visible; as a consequence, the relation between projec-
tion and reality is as unstable as the relation between discourse and the
non-discursive in the Renaissance text.89 Within this knowledge, the
forces of sympathy and antipathy are superimposed upon the web of
resemblance, and kept in check by being organized into an intelligible
and decipherable order, in which 'all things, no matter how diverse,
are brought back to unity according to a single determined harmony
and rational plan'.90
Resemblances themselves are not visible, since they are buried in the
depths of nature; they must be unearthed by the deciphering of visible
marks and signs which are hidden beneath the surface of things. The
world must be read in order to be known; the sign and what it denotes
are of the same nature, but their author has ceased to provide authori-
tative clues to their interpretation. Consequently, reading and observ-
ing are not distinct as methods of knowing, but necessarily inter-
twined.91
Within political knowledge, resemblance and exempla go hand in
109
hand, each sustaining the other. Resemblance is always warranted

through exempla, and the choice of exempla is always justified with
reference to resemblance. In political discourse, this circular connec-
tion is carried out in two different, yet interdependent, ways: as a
resemblance of the events and episodes to be exemplified, or as a
resemblance between the political beings to which the exempla are
thought to apply, and then in terms of their similarity of form and
origin. As we shall see below, the logic of exempla is systematically
upheld by the notion of resemblance between events and episodes, by
resemblance of form and origin; together, resemblance and exempla
furnish the general theory of the state with validity.
Through the resemblance of events and episodes it becomes possible
to describe and discuss present affairs by drawing on the almost
infinite corpus of political learning recovered from antiquity, without
distinguishing between legend and document; it becomes possible to
describe the deeds of a Moses or a King Utopus in the same terms as
one describes the recent behaviour of Cesare Borgia or Henry VIII,
because it is assumed that they share the same very reality, and occupy
the same space of possible political experience.
This strategy is employed in discussions of matters of state, such as
how a particular political being can be improved or modified, and
more importantly, how war is to be conducted, won, tempered or
avoided. During the Renaissance, and then in close conjunction with
the general theory of the state, a discourse on war emerges, sustained
by ancient exempla.92 War is no longer understood as the outcome of
providence or blind fate, but as an object of human knowledge and as
an instrument of power, susceptible to human control.93 As such, it
can be explained in terms of human passions; to most writers pre-
occupied with war in general terms, it is caused by human greed and
manifested in zero-sum competition over territory.94 Conversely,
peace gradually loses its transcendent ring and becomes a this-
worldly aspiration, attainable by subjecting passion to reasoned self-
interest.95
Through resemblance of form and origin, it becomes possible to
apply the wisdom of statecraft distilled by means of exempla across
time and space, since no essential discontinuity between past and
present is perceived. If there is discontinuity, it is measured nominally
as a discontinuity of form and origin: an exemplum can be grafted
successfully from one political being onto another, provided either
that the political beings in question display, at the episode singled out
110
Inventing outsides
for exemplification, constitutional similarity, or, a similarity of origin.

Hence, a speech of Pericles may prove edifying at a moment when
popular government is beset by decay; a quote from Livy will be
helpful to a republic torn by internal strife; the ingenuity of Lycurgus
can be invoked when a principality is awaiting a fresh start, and so
forth.
As I shall argue in the following subsections, this mode of know-
ledge constitutes the partly unarticulated foundation on which writers
such as Machiavelli, More and Vitoria build, despite their disagree-
ment at the level of opinion. While the fact that these three writers do
share this mode of knowledge justifies my selecting their works as
exempla of Renaissance texts, the dissimilarity of their opinions makes
it possible to discern three distinct formulations of and responses to
the 'problem of the outside'.
Machiavelli's mirrors
To Augustine, the image reflected in a mirror is a false, inferior and
lifeless reality, but one which has the power of seduction, since 'the
mother of falsity is the similitude of things which reaches the eye'.96 In
the Renaissance, the mirror image becomes the mother of truth, and
the positive unthought of knowledge. The mirror reflects ideal images,
and is able to furnish these images with a reality superior to that of the
object mirrored. The speculum has not only the power to represent or
seduce; it has the power to breathe life into reality by mirroring it. As I
shall attempt to demonstrate, this positivity of the mirror is reflected in
Machiavelli's attempt to cope with the problem of contingency posed
by time and particularity through innovation. Such an interpretation
has been suggested by Pocock (see n. 82 above).
But first, when the author of 7/ Principe (1532) for a brief moment
steps out of his text in order to tell the reader the truth of the text itself,
we must begin by asking what it takes to tell the truth of the matter,
the verita effetuale della cosa. What happens when one attempts 'to
concentrate on what really happens rather than on theories and
speculations'97 within a knowledge based on resemblance and
exempla?
First, what is at stake in the statement is the possibility of reflection
itself, and this from a detached viewpoint. By sidestepping his own
text, Machiavelli authorizes a reading of it as an accurate mirror image
of a political reality. As we shall see, this act of mirroring is likewise an
act of innovation and construction; Machiavelli mirrors a political
111
reality whose very reality itself hinges on the rhetorical impact of the
truth construed in and by the act of mirroring. This is what makes it
effective truth; he mirrors politics and animates it as presence; he
constructs a political reality on the basis of an image that makes it
present, and constructs an effective truth on the basis of resemblance
between image and reality. Hence, reality is understood as discursive,
and discourse as inseparable from reality; discourse not only describes
reality, but mimics its structures and processes in writing.98
Second, to the act of mirroring correspond the acts that are mirrored;
to the total structure of actions and relations depicted in // Principe
corresponds closely the total structure of statements set in motion
through the act of mirroring. Image and reality duplicate each other,
since what the text says about actions, it also to a certain extent does
within itself by the rhetorical use of exempla. To a modern, he seems to
use both present experience and examples from the past in a wholly
arbitrary manner." It remains to see how this strategy of exemplifi-
cation functions rhetorically, and how it is delimited by the forms of
government upon which Machiavelli concentrates.
In // Principe, the form of government whose workings are to be
exemplified is princely rule. The state (lo stato) is an object of action, but
the state itself cannot act. As Hexter has pointed out, Machiavelli's use
of the term stato differs from the various usages of its Latin antecedent
status in the late Middle Ages. If status signified either the relative
permanency of a condition, the immobility of an estate, or the capacity of
a ruler, the concept stato is consistently tied to the agency of a ruler, yet
as something existing independently of him.100 As such, it stands as an
inanimate object to the animating subjectivity of a ruler; the state as
such cannot act.101 The stato is passive; the ruler is active; the relative
success of the latter is measured by his ability to and his relative
success in acquiring or maintaining the state, and hence also his own
position within it; sometimes, they seem inseparable.102 The state is the
objective condition of rulership; rulership is the subjective condition of
the state, without a state the ruler ceases to be sovereign, without a
ruler, the state ceases to be an object of political knowledge. Hence, the
exempla sustaining the logic of action in II Principe are derived from
resemblant political beings and episodes.
As we learn in the first chapters of II Principe, states are either
republics or principalities, and the latter are either hereditary or new,
or a mixture of the two.103 In hereditary principalities, the art of ruling
is facilitated by the legitimacy that comes with tradition and custom.104
112
Inventing outsides
However, to Machiavelli, the real problem of governance is posed by
new states. What makes them new is their sudden acquisition by a new
prince; their newness flows from an act of innovation undertaken by
the ruler; in the ideal case singled out by Machiavelli, the object of
political legitimacy is made rather than found.105
In his role as innovator, the ruler must begin by destroying existing
political institutions within his newly acquired state, and depriving
them of their former legitimacy.106 Innovation necessitates the prior
overthrow of an established order and the erection of a new one, but
also relentless action in its defence; the act of innovation itself puts the
antithesis between old and new into relief. As such, innovation opens
the door to contingency in the shape of Fortuna, since
all those who profit from the old order will be opposed to the
innovator, whereas all those who might benefit from the new order
are, at best, tepid supporters of him. This lukewarmness arises partly
from fear of adversaries, who have the laws on their side, partly from
the sceptical temper of men, who do not really believe in new things
unless they have been seen to work well.107
Since Forruna is the arbiter of at least half of our actions,108 the ruler
who owes his position merely to the whims of fortune will likewise be
vulnerable to its future caprice, and hence find insurmountable diffi-
culties in maintaining his state.109 Consequently, the relative success of
a ruler in a completely new principality 'will depend on how much
ability (virtu) he possesses'.110 The act of innovation itself closely
resembles that of foundation, as in the exempla of prophets and
mythological lawgivers such as Moses, Cyrus and Romulus: 'Such
innovators, then, have to confront many difficulties; all the dangers
come after they have begun their enterprises, and need to be overcome
through their own ability. But once they have succeeded ... they
remain powerful, secure, honoured and successful.'111
This logic of innovation is mirrored by a similar logic at the textual
level. To the newness of a principality and the problems ensuing from
the act of innovation corresponds the conflict between old and new
facing the author of II Principe; the affirmation of the newness of the
principles of action embodied in II Principe is dependent on the auth-
ority of the author, who faces a problem analogous to that of the
innovating ruler; he must uproot and delegitimize a form of political
knowledge in order to inscribe a new truth of the matter onto a
present political reality by means of hitherto unseen resemblances and
unauthorized exempla; he must delete the parts of memory which
113
threaten to distort or subvert the act of mirroring.112 He must be

prepared to cope with Fortuna in the shape of distortion and falsity in
the mirror used; he himself must be an armed prophet, owing nothing
to luck except the opportunity to shape the image into reality.113 As
author, he will face as much recalcitrance as does a prince, since
it has always been no less dangerous to discover new ways and
methods than to set off in search of new seas and unknown lands
because the generality of mankind are much more ready to belittle
than to praise another^ actions, none the less, impelled by the natural
desire ... I have decided to enter upon a new way, as yet untrodden
by anyone else.114
When followed by a prince, the clue to success along the route of
innovation is to be found in his relative virtu. We must therefore turn
now to the precise nature of this virtue, in order to see how the clue to
the rhetorical success of the author resides in a transvaluation of virtu
and its relationship to its other, Fortuna.
The senses of the term virtu in 1/ Principe and Discorsi have been
subjected to much debate. On the one hand, it has been discussed
whether the concept of virtu in its various occurrences is reducible to
one or another more specific form of virtue, and, in this case, where
this virtue ultimately is located in the body politic.115 On the other, the
problem has been posed whether Machiavellian virtu is compatible
with or opposed to other moral standards of action, either present to
his contemporaries or accessible to the interpreter.116
It is this latter problem which has kept Machiavelli alive throughout
the centuries, and concerns the question of the basic moral stance of
Machiavelli, and to what extent this stance implies a divorce between
morals and politics. With varying degrees of hypocrisy, Machiavelli
has been identified with immorality and evil; from Pole and Gentillet
in the sixteenth century up to Leo Strauss in the twentieth, his writings
have been seen to embody a split between Christian ethics and secular
statecraft.117 In its less rabid versions, this argument has been recast as
a contest between morals and politics; to Cassirer, Machiavelli is a
precursor of the cool and detached social scientist, preoccupied with
facts rather than values.118 In its more sophisticated version, what is
held to be fundamental to Machiavelli's position is his 'clear recogni-
tion of the necessity and autonomy of politics, of politics which is
beyond or, rather below moral good and evil, of politics which has its
own laws against which it is useless to rebel'.119
114
Inventing outsides
The most recent response to this problem has been to opt for its
dissolution. According to Berlin, the entire question rests on the
dubious assumption that there once existed a peaceful coexistence
between the realms of morals and politics until this coexistence was
disrupted by Machiavelli.120 Rather, the originality of Machiavelli con-
sists in the revival and elaboration of an alternative moral-political
standard, largely of pagan origin, and in content as well as in effect
incommensurable with Christian ethics. There is simply no way of
deciding between these two competing standards with the aid of any
overarching criteria: Machiavelli uncovered this dilemma by unhesi-
tatingly taking for granted the superiority of Roman polity-centric
values over Christian transcendent values, but left an unbridgeable
lacuna between them wide open for posterity.121
This thesis is accepted by Skinner, who holds that virtu is used in II
Principe to refer to 'whatever range of qualities the prince may find
necessary in order to "maintain his state" and "achieve great things'".
Sometimes princely virtu will overlap with conventional virtues, but
'the idea of any necessary or even approximate equivalence between
virtu and the virtues is a disastrous mistake'.122 In Pocock's formula-
tion, the question 'whether the prince should obey moral law there-
fore becomes a discussion of when he should obey it'.123
What is neglected by Berlin and Skinner is the language and the
logic through which this tension between old and new standards of
political conduct is put into relief and brought to bear upon the
political reality which Machiavelli mirrors. As McCanles has pointed
out regarding // Principe, 'it is in discourse, the rules for its formation,
its necessary care to avoid its own disruptions and its own contra-
dictions, that we find the seeds of the disintegration of human ration-
ality and therefore of human order'.124
Thus, the relationship between Christian virtue and pagan virtue is
not only one of incommensurable ethical opposition, but also one of
tension and supplementation at the discursive level. The contradiction
between the old order and the purportedly new standard of statecraft
is only constructable and articulable within the framework of the old
one, and then with the aid of rhetorical ruses and conceptual polari-
zations familiar to it. The act of innovation partly consists in dramatiz-
ing this opposition by means of exempla; what is new has to be
rendered new against the backdrop of something which becomes old
through the act of innovation itself. As we shall see, this act of innova-
225
tion cuts across the divide between projection and reality, and inscribes
the ruler and his state within a realm of contingency made up of other
states in the same predicament.
The rendering of the disjunction between old and new is dependent
on an act of textual dissimulation by the author which closely parallels
the acts of tactical dissimulation recommended to the prince facing the
problem of innovation. Political reality is thus reflected in the mirror of
the text, the author playing the same set of tricks on his reader as the
prince is well advised to do on his subjects outside the text.125 At this
point, the virtue of the author.consists in controlling the contingent
relations which inevitably arise between text and reader, by subjecting
the latter to rhetorical stratagems.
The disjunction between moral standards is most clearly articulated
in chapters 15 to 19 of II Principe, where Machiavelli begins by stating
that 'how men live is so different from how they should live that a
ruler who does not do what is generally done, but persists in doing
what ought to be done, will undermine his power rather than main-
tain it'.126
What is presupposed here is the presence of a shared communita-
rian code of conduct, as well as an equally shared practice deviating
from it. This tension is instantiated in some pieces of concrete advice a
few lines below
I know that everyone will acknowledge that it would be most praise-
worthy for a ruler to have all the ... qualities that are held to be good
... [BJecause circumstances do not permit living a completely virtu-
ous life, one must be sufficiently prudent to know how to avoid
becoming notorious for those vices that would destroy one's power
... Yet one should not be troubled about becoming notorious for
those vices without which it is difficult to preserve one's power,
because ... doing some things that seem virtuous may result in one's
ruin.127
A ruler, then, need not actually possess all the above-mentioned
qualities, [e.g those classified as good in ch. 15] but he must certainly
seem to. Indeed, I shall be so bold as to say that having and always
cultivating them is harmful, whereas seeming to have them is use-
ful.128
Hence, the actions of the ruler are to some extent constrained by the
moral fabric of his society; he must cultivate a virtuous appearance
especially when his actions substantially conflict with the old moral
imperatives; simultaneously, however, the old fabric is rendered
116
Inventing outsides
fragile through this exploitation. But it is the received standard that
enables the ruler to act as he does; there would be no need for fake in a
world devoid of moral standards, since in such a world, the disjunction
between real virtue and dissimulated virtue would be meaningless.
The distinction between 'being' and 'seeming' points to the presence
of a code of values held to be good. As a consequence, dissimulation
itself cannot be universalized since it is parasitic on an already univer-
salized code; precisely as innovation must be undertaken against the
backdrop of an established order, so the dissimulation of virtue must
take place within an already present structure of virtue, which it
cannot hope to abolish or transcend completely. The old and the new
are opposed in terms of content, but supplementary in terms of form, a
supplementarity which animates their opposition.129
Turning now to the realities of dissimulation as they are represented
in chapter 18, we are informed how the rift in the moral fabric is
brought about through the act of dissimulation itself. There are two
ways of contending, says Machiavelli: 'one by using laws, the other,
force. The first is appropriate for men, the second for animals.'130 It
follows that the ruler must combine human character with a good
portion of beastliness if he is going to succeed along the route of
innovation, and withstand the challenges of fortune: 'This policy was
taught to rulers allegorically by ancient writers: they tell how Achilles
and many other ancient rulers were entrusted to Chiron the Centaur,
to be raised carefully by him.'131
The significance of this exemplum is complex. First, it presupposes
resemblance along the episodic axis, but the episode exemplified is in
itself an episode of exemplification: Chiron's twinned being is an
exemplum to ancient rulers, and this fact itself constitutes an exemp-
lum to contemporary rulers. Second, there is resemblance along the
axis of origin, since Chiron is an innovator: in Pindar's sixth Pythian
Ode, Chiron is the creator of unwritten law, making it out of pure
force.132 Third, and within this exemplum, Machiavelli relies on an
allegory in order to establish a perennial truth about political reality.
By representing Chiron's germinant nature as fiction, the opposition
between law and force which is coexistent with the opposition
between man and animal, is made to stand out as a reality. By grafting
allegory onto allegory, Machiavelli fictions a fiction, which, through a
play of double negation, is rendered as truth.133 Fourth, the substance
of the centaur's advice is concealed from the reader, and perhaps clear
to the statesman only; the centaur is presented as an exemplum, but
117
we are not informed about the content of his wisdom. The mysteries
of state and rulership must remain secret in order to become oper-
ative.134
This concealment is also the prudent textual route to follow by the
author, since the success of dissimulation rests on the secrecy of the
very act of dissimulation; disclosed dissimulation ceases to be dissimu-
lation, and gives way to outright lie. This is all the more evident in the
exemplum of the fox; the fox not only conceals, but has the power of
concealing the act of concealment: 'foxiness should be well concealed;
one must be a great feigner and dissembler. And men are so naive, and
so much dominated by immediate needs, that a skilful deceiver always
finds plenty of people who will let themselves be deceived.'135
Through double concealment, the rhetoric of innovation becomes
superior to established truth. This subversion of the hierarchy
between old and new cannot be made operative through an overt
opposition or contest between them, but only through a clandestine
subordination. Dissimulation and concealment constitute the privi-
leges of the innovator, who can exploit the moral and epistemic
resources of the old order while creating a new one; the force of tradi-
tional truth rests with the established order, but can be bent to the
purposes of the innovator, who uses its rhetorical force to construct a
new edifice of law and knowledge. Even here, the act of innovation
depends on supplementarity between the old and the new, but the
privilege is now shifted from the former to the latter.
This pattern of innovation, authority and virtue is repeated in the
Discorsi (1519),136 but with the important difference that the form of
government now is republican. If // Principe was focused around the
problem of security and written from the vantage point of the sover-
eign subjectivity of a ruler, this perspective is reversed in the Discorsi.
It is written from the vantage point of the sovereign subjectivity of a
people: whereas II Principe busies itself with the virtue of a ruler as a
condition of his security and success in a realm of contingency, the
Discorsi is an analysis of the conditions of liberty and virtue in the
entire body politic, which no longer is an inanimate object, but a living
reality itself capable of action.137
In the Discorsi, Machiavelli sets out to explore precisely that which
from the vantage point of the exempla provided by princely rule is
anomalous: republics, we are told, are difficult if not impossible to
subject to princely rule, since 'they do not forget, indeed cannot
forget, their lost liberties'.138 Hence, the strategy of exemplification
118
Inventing outsides
now shifts away from 'great rulers' to 'great republics', with republican
Rome as the paradigm and Livy as the prime source.
The vitality and survival of a republic is dependent on the liberty
and virtue of its citizens, rather than on the animating force of an
innovating prince.139 Thus, in the Discorsi, the analysis of virtue by
means of exempla is no longer confined to the level of the individual,
but extended to the republic as a whole. The amount of virtue within a
republic determines its ability to withstand corrosive change and
external threats. This thesis emerges most clearly in the analysis of the
conditions behind the rise of the Roman Empire:
For if there is nowhere to be found a republic so successful as was
Rome, this is because there is nowhere to be found a republic so
constituted as to be able to make the conquests Rome made. For it was
the virtu of her armies that caused Rome to acquire an empire, and it
was her constitutional procedure and peculiar customs which she
owed to her first legislator that enabled her to maintain what she had
acquired.140
A republic is dependent both on good laws for its internal order, and
on good arms for its defence and expansion. Ideally, and as in II
Principe, good laws are laid down by a founding legislator, such as
Romulus.141 When this is the case, the stability and continuity of the
republic are partly guaranteed through the initial perfection of its
constitution, but the soundness of its political institutions is dependent
on the virtue of its citizens, which can be cultivated only through
broad participation in political affairs. The flexibility of a republic, and
hence its ability to cope with the capricious forces of Fortuna, demands
popular sovereignty (governo largo), which in turn goes hand in hand
with political liberty.142
In the Discorsi, the virtues necessary for the survival of a republic are
both civic and military; they are two sides of the same coin, and tend to
reinforce each other. Whereas civil virtue is the condition of internal
liberty, military virtue is necessary for external liberty and outward
expansion.143 The ideal citizen is the armed citizen; the ideal warrior is
he who identifies himself primarily by his loyalty to the common-
wealth and its structure of civic values.144
Thus, the ideal republic is able to mobilize and conserve the virtues
and liberties of its citizens only through their active participation in its
affairs. However, the republic itself is situated in a realm of particular-
ity, time and contingency. It is born, it lives and it dies as an island in
an ocean of fortune; an ocean where power relationships rather than
119
law reign as unobstructed in the relations between states as they did

between the prince and his possible opponents within the princely
state. Confronting this problem, the virtuous republic organizes itself
for aggrandizement right from the start.145
Both the prince and the republic face contingency, but in different
guises. Whereas the prince stood alone against the forces of fortune,
and had to engage in ceaseless innovation in order to carve out and
domesticate a portion of time in order to become and remain secure
within it, the republic must organize itself for external defence within
a space populated by similar entities. Whereas the prince must trust his
own cunning and virtue in order to succeed along the route of
innovation, the republic can rely on a mutual reinforcement between
the virtues of the citizens and the soundness of its institutions and
practices; it must embody innovation and translate it into flexibility in
its external relations. Thus, both prince and republic, as modes of the
same political subjectivity, face analogous problems and present anal-
ogous solutions. The prince stands in the same relation to his conten-
ders as does the republic to its neighbours; their success depends on
their relative virtu.
Now this virtue which is called for both reflects and sharpens the
disjunction between Christian standards of political conduct and the
demands of revived pagan statecraft; in their clash, the concept of
virtue cracks open, and distances itself from its old connotations. The
resulting statecraft, operative only in a world where traditional legiti-
macy has begun to erode, now emerges as a force separating the new
political subjectivity of a prince or a republic from its outside. The
disjunction thus becomes double: to the opposition between old and
new corresponds an opposition between inside and outside; by virtue
of being new, the state becomes the Same.
Still, there is a limit set on newness and sameness from within
political knowledge itself. There is a tension between the use of
exempla and the discursive practice of innovation, manifested both at
the level of historical reality and the textual level; the newer something
appears to be, the less useful exempla from the past become as guides
to action and as rhetorical devices for legitimizing it. If, as Machiavelli
states, all commonwealths pass through a cycle of rise and decay,146
how can exempla from these furnish us with guidance if the cycle is
stabilized or broken by an act of stabilization or innovation?
By the same token, there is a tension between the modes of pro-
ducing exempla. As Lyons has pointed out, the production of exempla
220
Inventing outsides
is internal to the historical process itself;147 simultaneously, however,

exempla are created by the innovative author in order to exemplify the
same historical process; he supplies exempla from a point outside the
process. If exempla are generated by history, they are effective within
it; they close history and stabilize the cycle of change, 'since good
examples proceed from good education, good education from good
laws, and good laws in this case from those very tumults which many
so inconsiderately condemn.'148 But when exempla are used by an
author to authorize a new memory in order to create a new present,
exemplary knowledge itself furnishes a counterexample of its own use-
fulness:
Those who study closely the past and compare it with the present
will find that for each case that has led to good results there are any
number that turned out to be mistakes ... [y]et so great is man's
ambition that, in striving to slake his present desire, he gives no
thought to the evils that in a short time will follow in its wake. Nor is
he stirred by the lessons of the past, as I have shown in regard to this
and other matters.149
That is, the same political reality which is constructed and mirrored
by means of exempla serves to invalidate exemplary knowledge. In
Machiavelli's text, so unwilling to fortify its own premises, Renaissance
knowledge implodes in the face of the very reality it makes intelligible.
Innovation ends up in paradox; it is simultaneously sustained and
circumscribed by exemplary knowledge.
Move's reports
If the positive logic of the mirror was able to ensure resemblance and
continuity between text and reality in the writings of Machiavelli, a
similar function is provided by the interplay of characters and their
reports in More's Utopia (1516); if a mirror reflects an image of a reality
which becomes real only through being mirrored as such, the report
re-ports; it re-covers reality into image under the assumption that this
reality has been lost. It recovers reality by isolating its exemplary
features, and redistributes these features into one exemplum, struc-
tured according to a hierarchy of ethical values. The logic of the report
is a negative one; it does not lend itself to innovation, only to isolation
through a displacement of existing values, and a nostalgic appre-
hension of what allegedly went before the corruption of those values.
Rhetorically, Utopia is organized by ethical transvaluation and
demarcation; what is cherished as examples of virtue in More's present
122
is turned into utmost vice in the non-place of Utopia. The act of

transvaluation and demarcation is assisted by the metaphoric devices
of voyage and spatial distance; one travels from the realm of vice to the
Utopian non-place of virtue in and through More's discourse; what is
positivity at the point of departure is negativity at the point of arrival.
Also, this discourse dramatizes the very relationship between reality
and fiction, between truth and authenticity on the one hand, and
rhetoric and play on the other.
Utopia is written in the form of a dialogue, in which More appears as
one of the minor interlocutors but at the same time as its principal
narrator. In the body of the book, More re-reports the reports of
another interlocutor, who at the same time figures as the principal
character of the work: Raphael Hythlodaeus.
Raphael Hythlodaeus is a dispenser of factual truth as well as an
upholder of truth as an ideal that ought to govern discourse; he has
acquired detailed knowledge of the conditions obtaining on the island
of Utopia through his travels, yet he is a fictional creature. Now
sometimes the author-interlocutor More steps out of the narrative,
either to intervene from a likewise fictional position outside it, or in
order to supply the reader with authoritative interpretations of the
positions proposed in it.150
One may wonder how anyone can feel tempted to locate the inten-
tions of the author within such a complex text, written in an age which
lacked access to a firm divide between fact and fiction. As Greenblatt
has noticed, and despite the fact that the book is subdivided in a way
that would indicate a separation between the real and the imaginary,
its characters speak the same language: 'there are not two forms of
language, one referential and the other non-referential, one for truth
and the other for fiction'.151 The problem becomes all the more puz-
zling, since More - if we still are entitled to speak of him outside the
text - is re-reporting reports of his characters while being a character
himself. The truth of a report of something is always questionable; the
truth of a report of a report is never questionable beyond its relation to
the report reported; when the reported report itself is possibly a
re-report, it is no longer possible to keep report and re-report epistemi-
cally distinct.152
Now the problem of truth is taken up by the character Hythlodaeus,
who is the mouthpiece of a scholastic preference for truth over rhe-
toric. Discussing the 'problem of the council' - whether it is advisable
for a man of learning to enter royal service or not - Hythlodaeus
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Inventing outsides
argues that it is not, since he wants to 'stick to the truth'.153 As reported
in the First Book, Hythlodaeus fears that as a courtier he 'must openly
approve the worst counsels and subscribe to the most ruinous
decrees',154 and 'share the madness of others as I tried to cure their
lunacy'.155
Against this Platonic insistence on truth, the figure of More adopts a
more flexible - that is, a more rhetorical position. There is 'another
philosophy, more practical for statesmen, which knows its stage [and]
adapts itself to the play at hand ... Whatever play is being performed,
perform it as best you can, and do not upset it all because you think of
another which has more interest.'156 The problem of truth is also
confronted in a letter to Peter Giles, and then put into the mouth of a
critic: 'If the facts are reported as true, I see some rather absurd
elements in them, but if as fictitious, then I find ... judgement wanting
in some matters.'157 More faces this dilemma by another act of rhe-
torical playfulness:
I do not pretend that if I had determined to write about the common-
wealth and had remembered such a story as I have recounted, I should
have perhaps shrunk from a fiction whereby the truth, as if smeared
by honey, might a little more pleasantly slide into men's minds. But I
should certainly have tempered the fiction so that, if I wanted to abuse
the ignorance of common folk, I should have prefixed some indi-
cations at least for the more learned to see through our purpose.158
Read as a report on the quite Epimenidean conditions of reporting,
this passage should sensitize us to the play at hand, in which play is
substituted for truth; a play which is superior to literal truth, because it
has the ability of imposing fictions upon the world, thus forming and
transforming it; a literal truth would presuppose that such a structure
of meaning already has been imposed upon reality, thus separating it
from the imaginary and fictitious.
If the vitality of the Machiavellian republic resided in the liberty of
its citizens as they are found to be rather than in the perfection of its
institutions, this order of priority is turned inside out in Utopia. The
question is not how the ruler or citizen ought to act, but how the social
and political institutions of a commonwealth ought to be arranged for
the benefit of society as a whole, and how men ought to be remade in
order to fit into these institutions. Status, the etymological antecedent
of the term state, is here used to signify the condition of political being:
what is the optimal state of a commonwealth, and, secondly, what is
the optimal state of man within it?
223
This question is answered in two steps, the first with the aid of a
great number of negative exempla, and the other by means of one
complex positive exemplum. Starring with the negative side, More
begins by an analysis of the present state of affairs. Cast in a satirical
mode, More's analysis concentrates on the practice of war in con-
temporary European society. War, originating in a primordial corrup-
tion of man's relationship with nature, is caused by the greed of kings
and the idleness of the nobility;159 it is perpetuated through chivalric
codes of honour and glorified by the perverted education of rulers and
the aristocracy. War is to the gross disadvantage of the people and to
the tranquillity of the realm, since it necessitates extraordinary taxes
and causes impoverishment, which in turn inspires rebellion and
criminality.160 But ultimately and above all, injustice and war are
caused by the institution of private property.161
What is original about this analysis is not so much its specific
content: More reiterates here many Christian humanistic common-
places about the allegedly derelict character of contemporary Euro-
pean society.162 What is more of interest is the trick employed to
stigmatize and satirize prevalent practices. As both Hexter and Skinner
have shown, More breaks away from the pattern of the medieval
moralist, who castigates the abuses of the actual warrior class by
contrasting them with the chivalric ideal. Instead, he rejects this entire
system of norms, and transvaluates the meaning of the terms
employed in the medieval celebration of warrior virtues; what was
laudatory becomes pejorative.163
If there ever was a slave revolt in morality, it took place here in
Utopia by a rhetorical gesture aimed to reverse an entire ethical order
and block all future re-evaluation. More's response to the present
standards he finds detestable is altogether reactive; the positive step in
the analysis is performed through a negation of what has been singled
out as the root cause of social evil, which then is turned into a dream of
rational reform. Instead of facing contingency and crisis by innovation,
More opts for total reversal and isolation as the proper antidotes; one
must say yes only to a negation of what is negative; one must say no to
all that which cannot be represented as true virtue; what is true virtue
is a reversed false virtue.
This pattern becomes clearer as we look into the institutional struc-
ture of the island of Utopia itself. Earlier, it had been part of the
continent, and was called Abraxa until the original founder and law-
giver King Utopus conquered the territory and cut it off from the
124
Inventing outsides
continent. Spread across the island are fifty-four city-states, separated

by rural districts and identical in laws and customs.164 The inner life of
each such city-state is governed according to reason, and its citizens
are brought under strict surveillance.165 The basic unit of Utopian
society is the family; families together elect their governing officials,
but to take counsel on matters of common interest outside their
assembly or senate is considered a capital offence.166 Labour is
enforced; leisure activities compulsory; dress uniform; property col-
lectivized; the size of families regulated; dining public; promiscuity
punished; travelling restricted; language transparent to thought;
knowledge empiricist; prediction triumphant; conscience clean. Even
if this vision is repulsive, we should not let discomfort guide our
interpretation, but view Utopia against the backdrop of the negative
step in the analysis of the present. It is egalitarian because unequal
distribution of property is the root cause of social evil. It is homo-
geneous because difference among men breeds discord. It is panoptic,
because visibility and surveillance reinforce the values and practices of
a truly communitarian life. It is empiricist, because the forces of nature
set limits to human perfectibility. It is the same, because it has assimi-
lated all difference into one sameness.
Utopia is built upon transvaluation, but this transvaluation does not
break the chain of resemblance; the normative content of Utopian
institutions is the polar opposite of the normative content of the
practices singled out as derelict. In this way, Utopia embodies true
nobility and excellence, as contrasted with the false nobility and
excellence exemplified by the European nobility.167 But as soon as we
start to look at its form and origin, Utopia is caught within the web of
resemblance. First, when it comes to form, it falls back upon and has its
range of exemplarity defined by both Plato's Republic and Augustine's
City of God. As such, Utopia can be read as philosophical nostalgia
about the loss of a transcendent universal - a pure Christianity or a
pure ideal republic - but which has lost its power to organize present
political knowledge and to guide political action. What, one may ask,
would the present society look like, if its evolution had been guided by
human reason, without having been corroded by time and con-
tingency?168 The answer to such a question is necessarily Utopian; it
would be a perfectly virtuous society based entirely on the dictates of
reason, but stripped of all the redundant trappings of Christian relig-
ion and abstract philosophy.169 Second, when it comes to origin,
Utopia is dependent on a founding subjectivity; a mythological law-
225
giver who performs the act of isolation and transvaluation, and whose
position corresponds to that of the author in the text of Utopia:
'Utopus, my ruler, converted me, formerly not an island, into an
island. Alone of all lands, without the aid of abstract philosophy, I have
represented for mortals the philosophical city. Ungrudgingly do I
share my benefit with others; undemurringly do I adopt whatever is
better from others.'170
And then, now on the island of Utopia, it is as if some trick was
operative, which is as apt as chance to confound high and low: 'I have
been marked out by my Utopians to be their king forever ... I was
going to continue with this fascinating vision, but the rising Dawn has
shattered my dream.'171
It remains to ask how Utopia deals with what is outside it, and
therefore also inferior to it. Transvaluation was effected through iso-
lation; one isolates what is derelict in the present, inverts its ethical
value, and transposes it to an insular form, in its turn isolated from the
mainland of the present. As we are told in More's report, the act of
founding Utopia, as it was carried out by its first sovereign, King
Utopus, coincided with its physical isolation from the continent.
Utopus was drawing a line of water between his new creation and its
impure origin which hence becomes a past and an other in relation to
it. This geopolitical separation, we are likewise told, was not so much
conditioned by divine power as it was carried through the positivity of
labour.172
Now its very insularity also gives it a strategic advantage over its
enemies, stuck in their present on the mainland. As the rhetorical play
of reporting supports the transvaluation of virtues and the fortification
of truth in Utopia, so the island of Utopia has a distinct geopolitical
advantage; the landing-place is so well defended by nature that a few
defenders can prevent strong forces from coming ashore.173
As the text of Utopia is defended from noxious interpretation by
hovering in between fiction and truth, Utopia is defended from con-
quest by its virtue and rationality. Despite the fact that the Utopians
strongly resent the practice of war, men and women alike receive
military training in order to be able to protect their territory, but also
under the pretext of intervention on behalf of threatened friends in the
surrounding ocean.174 However, even when the cause is just, the
Utopians do not willingly do the job of fighting themselves; rather,
they first rely on mercenaries, whom they hold to be abominable and
hence worthy of extermination.175
126
Inventing outsides
The worst foreign policy problem of Utopia arises out of the conflict
between its isolation and the inevitability of its interaction with other
states. As a rational society in which the common interest constitutes
the sole yardstick for institutional arrangements, Utopia is also by
inclination peace loving. But it is also prosperous and efficient, which
affects its relationship with nature, and, by consequence, with other
states. Since Utopia has domesticated some of the forces of nature,
forces which untamed would work to the detriment of humanity, its
population increases.176 As a consequence, they must break their iso-
lation and start to colonize new territories overseas. Thus, the quest for
space flows from the very perfectibility of the Utopian condition, and
lies in the common interest of Utopia. If the territories under coloni-
zation happen to be inhabited, and if the inhabitants refuse to live
under Utopian law, they drive them from the territory which they
carve out for themselves. If they resist, the Utopians wage war on
them. This they consider a most just cause of war, when a people deny
the possession of a territory to those who by the rule of nature are
better suited to be maintained by it.177
Thus, the outside must be assimilated and turned into an inside as a
consequence of the perfection which reigns within Utopia; Utopia
presents an offer which cannot be refused: become Utopian or die.178
The very same conditions which were made to look profoundly sinis-
ter through the creation of Utopia, and were relegated to its outside
through a complex act of transvaluation, separation and isolation, but
nevertheless constituted the conditions which made it possible and
desirable, now figure as the target of assimilation.
In the end, therefore, the logic of transvaluation and isolation sub-
verts itself; either Utopia stays isolated and perishes from over-
population as a result of its rational perfection, or it must expand and
assimilate. If assimilation were to succeed, however, and Utopia to
become universal, its motivating force would be lost; its inner perfecti-
bility hinges on the presence of its opposite outside, but when this
outside is turned into an inside, the reactive logic implodes.
Vitoria's circles
The descombrimentos had their share in the Renaissance crisis in know-
ledge. The writings of both Machiavelli and More reflect an awareness
of a non-Christian outside. For Machiavelli, the charting of new seas
and unknown lands was equivalent to his quest for a new political
knowledge.179 To More, the acquaintance with the New World
127
through Vespucci's reports inspired his textual experiment of ethical
subversion. The discoveries, however, coincided in time with the
process of reciprocal estrangement which took place in Europe, and
added yet another dimension to the problem of particularity and
contingency posed by nominalism and time.
For Francisco de Vitoria, however, the discovery of the Americas
posed a much more serious problem; how could the newly discovered
forms of life be reconciled with the universalist framework of legal
reason?180 That is, where Vitoria was predisposed to find universality
and sameness, he was confronted with a striking plurality and other-
ness, arising out of the discoveries as well as the fragmentation within
Christianity.181 The question was not merely epistemic, theological and
legal: a fair share of the New World was since the Bull of Donation in
1493 under the dominion of the Spanish Crown, and on top of this
constitutionally fragile construct was a king, simultaneously emperoi
Charles V and guardian of a Christianity beset by discord.
Vitoria is a primitive legal scholar; whenever read retrospectively,
he is seen as one of the founders of international law. As Kennedy has
pointed out, such a characterization is bound to be misleading, since in
the Renaissance, there is no firm divide between the domestic and the
international spheres. Instead the problems of legal knowledge are
consistently articulated and solved against the backdrop of a pre-
sumed universal order.182In Vitoria - a neo-thomist - the overarching
legal problem is not how to solve a disagreement between competing
sovereigns over the foundations of this order, since, as we shall see,
such a disagreement is assumed to be impossible, but how to relate the
concentric circles of resemblant laws, ranging from divine law down tc
natural and positive law. In his effort to work out a coherent relation-
ship between them, Vitoria relies on a lexicon of legal exempla, in
which a wide variety of textual authorities are invoked in order tc
support his position, and this without regard to the compatibility oi
these authorities.
The Vitorian response is as complex as the problem itself. At the
apex of the legal order we find divine law, which enjoys primacy ovei
natural and positive law. There can be no other ultimate authority oi
source of binding law, since '[a]ll power ... by which the secular State
is governed, is not only just and legitimate, but it is also surely
ordained by God, that not even by the consent of the whole world can
it be destroyed or annulled'.183
If agreement cannot destroy the moral and legal authority of divine
128
Inventing outsides
law, nor can disagreement. However willed by God, the power of the
state is rooted in natural law, since the state is of natural origin.
Invoking Aristotle, Vitoria reminds us that man is a social animal and
owes his humanity to the social bond, here necessitated by the Fall.184
As such, and by virtue of its resemblance to the macrocosm of divine
law, no society of men can continue to exist without some supreme
power governing it, 'For if all were equal, and subject to no power,
each individual would draw away from the others in accordance with
his own opinions and will; the commonwealth would of necessity be
torn apart; and the State would be dis solved.'185
Hence, sovereignty is necessary for the protection and survival of
man and is therefore natural in origin, but its establishment is never-
theless in accordance with divine law; nature and grace reinforce each
other throughout Vitoria's theory.186 The presence of the sovereign
state entails that men must give up their right to defend themselves
against injustices, and collectively hand over this power to the sover-
eign, be it a king or any other governing body.187 Furthermore, since
the state is now internally pacified and self-sufficient within the twin
orders of nature and grace, it enjoys a right of self-defence against
external injury: 'the State may in nowise be deprived of this power to
protect itself and to guard against every injury from its own citizens or
from aliens ... if all the citizens should agree to dispense with these
powers ... the agreement would be null and void, being contrary to
natural law.'188 Again, as a corollary, 'the temporal State is perfect, and
complete in itself; therefore, it is not subject to any outside force, since
if it were thus subject, it would not be complete'.189
According to Fernandez-Santamaria, there is a certain irony in the
fact that Vitoria, commonly celebrated as the father of modern inter-
nationalism, prefaces his internationalist scheme by strengthening the
institution most inimical to it: the sovereign state.190 Now this irony
perhaps partly resides in the eye of the presentist historian. Anxiously
turning Vitoria into the father of modern internationalism, we will be
predisposed to think that he was addressing the problem posed by the
presence of sovereign states in the absence of a universalist frame-
work, a problem which was simply not accessible to him. In Vitoria's
theory, the sovereign has no capacity - in the ontological sense of
capacity - to depart from the word of God, or from the moral consen-
sus of the whole world; instead, his peculiar capacity of being sover-
eign is vested with him within the universal order.191
To be sure, there is a problem here, but not of a modern kind; for
129
how is the capacity of particular sovereignty reconcilable with the

universalist framework from which they derive? Posed differently, it is
a matter of how a process of fragmentation is intelligible from within a
a presupposed structure of a unified and larger whole. We could read
Vitoria's theory not as a strategy for solving this dilemma, but as a
strategy for avoiding it. This is most clearly seen in his doctrine of just
war. Faced with a plurality of states,
a doubt may well arise whether, when a number of [states) of this
kind ... have one common lord or prince, they can make war of
themselves and without the authorization of their superior lord. My
answer is that they can do so undoubtedly, just as the kings who are
subordinate to the Emperor can make war on one another without
waiting for the Emperor's authorization, for a state ought to be self-
sufficient, and this it would not be, if it had not the faculty in question.192
Here, as in Marsiglio, universal authority has a locus that can be

stripped off, yet its content and scope remain intact as warrants of
particular sovereignty. In this case, the Augustinian order of logical
priority between sovereign authority and just war is reversed: it takes
war to make a sovereign in the first place, and a sovereign to make a
war just in the second place, rather than conversely. The connection
between sovereignty, universal order, and war is circularly reinforc-
ing; the distinction between what is sovereign and what is not sover-
eign corresponds to a distinction between what is legal and what is
not; this distinction, in turn, is universal, and cannot be subjected to
disagreement among sovereign authorities without a simultaneous
loss of their legal title to sovereignty. Witness this statement, which to
a modern theorist of international law would appear to contradict the
above one:
International law \jus gentium] has not only the force of a pact and
agreement among men but also the force of a law for the world as a
whole being in a way one single State, and has the power to create
laws that are just and fitting for all persons, as are the rules of
international law. Consequently, it is clear that they who violate these
international rules, whether in peace or in war, commit a mortal sin.
Moreover, in the gravest matters, such as the inviolability of ambassa-
dors, it is not permissible for one country to refuse to be bound by
international law, for the latter having been established by the auth-
ority of the whole world.193
Despite the anachronistic translation, it is clear that Vitoria does not
discern any distinction, let alone any opposition, between the kind of
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Inventing outsides
law that applies within states and the kind of law that prevails
between them, since such a distinction or opposition would merely
presuppose precisely what is unintelligible to Vitoria: the absence of
divine law laid down by grace in all human institutions. The ultimate
subject of the jus gentium is mankind, a mankind not yet divided into
normatively self-contained units.
This brings us to the second source of destabilization in legal
thought: the discovery of the American Indians. If the fragmentation
of Christianity into legally self-sufficient units threatened the coher-
ence of universalist legal schemes, the discovery of the Indians posed
the problem of the proper scope of divine and natural law. The
confrontation with something radically different from the Christian
way of life raised the question of what kind of relations it is possible to
entertain with this Other.194 First, to what extent is it possible to know
the Indian except as something inferior to the Christian civilization?
Second, and dependent on the epistemic status granted to the Indian,
to what extent is it possible to bring him into the framework of
universal law by giving him the status of a legal subject?
If the Indian is knowable, he is knowable on the basis of his resem-
blance to the familiar; if he is knowable on the basis of his resemblance
to the familiar, he is either assimilated to the Christian and therefore
denied an identity of his own, or, he is dissimilated from the Christian,
and therefore denied the status of epistemic and legal subjectivity.
At the time when Vitoria is giving his lectures on the American
Indians, the conquest of the Americas is a fact, which is left to juris-
prudence to justify; contrary to some of his contemporaries, Vitoria
does this by opting for the first of the above strategies. As the legal
problem was posed, it was a matter of whether the Spaniards could
claim dominium in the Americas or not. In the contemporary idiom of
natural jurisprudence, the term dominium did not only connote prop-
erty rights, but included also a certain right of political overlordship or
suzerainty.
In order to justify Spanish dominion, one had to prove that the
native inhabitants of the new continent had in one way or another lost
their entitlement to dominion, accorded to them by natural law.195
This might have been fairly easy, since the Indians took delight in a set
of practices which from the Christian viewpoint were highly detesta-
ble. But to Vitoria, the fact that they were engaged in incestuous
intercourse and ritual cannibalism was not sufficient to dispossess
them.196 Not that these practices did not constitute mortal sin; they
131
certainly did. But to say that those in mortal sin do not have dominium
was not a possibility open to Vitoria; such a one-way recourse to grace
would have thrown him right into the arms of the Reformation, a fact
that he was fully aware of.197 Nor could the fact of their infidelity do
the job. Drawing heavily on Aquinas, Vitoria makes the simple point
that dominium is derived either from natural law or from positive law,
and is therefore not destroyed by lack of faith.198
A further possibility was to declare them insane or non-human.
Neither crackpots nor wild beasts are entitled to dominium according to
natural law, simply because natural law was founded upon natural
reason.199 Clearly, the Indians were strange, but not wholly irrational:
The Indian aborigines are not barred on this ground from the exercise
of true dominion. This is proved from the fact that the true state of the
case is that they are not of unsound mind, but have, according to their
kind, the use of reason. This is clear, because there is a certain method
in their affairs, for they have polities which are orderly arranged and
they have definite marriage and magistrates ... all of which call for
the use of reason; they also have a kind of religion. Further, they
make no error in matters which are self-evident to others; this is
witness to their use of reason.200
Even if they sometimes appear stupid, dominion cannot be denied
the aborigines on this ground. The upshot of this conclusion is that
there are kinds of reason, kinds of societies, kinds of religions, kinds of
human practices, but which nevertheless all are distinctively human;
they are expressions of an enlarged and collective reason. Further, the
process by which Vitoria arrives at this conclusion is itself interesting,
since it reveals an enlargement, both of the sphere of knowledge and
of the scope of law: by saying that the Indians do not err in matters
which are self-evident to others, Vitoria by implication says that error
only can be measured against evidence, and evidence only measured
against error.
But above this plurality there is a universal unity of mankind,
provided by the unwritten code of jus gentium, warranted by both
grace and nature. Whereas it is not wholly derived from natural law,
'but was established as inviolable, from agreement among men',201 it is
based on the consensus of mankind as a whole, and thus concerns all
nations; it does not determine the possibility of the legal arrangements
within each nation, but well their perfection.202
Now, where is the clout of the;us gentium to be found? How can this
legal order encircle lesser legal orders, and cope with the disagree-
132
Inventing outsides
ments that arise from inner fragmentation and cultural plurality in a

world in which sovereignty is strongly interlinked with the faculty of
war?
In order to avoid the possibility of profound disagreement over the
content of a universal moral and legal order, Vitoria draws another
circle within the holistic order of law; the jus gentium is itself warranted
by just war.
First, and according to the inherited doctrine, the waging of just war
is a privilege of princes, those who have no superiors within a given
realm. Second, war, in order to be just, must be undertaken for a just
cause only, such as avenging a prior injustice or reclaiming stolen
property.203 In Vitoria's rendering, where the legitimate authority of
the ruler is connected to the presence of a state, the right of waging of
war rests with public authority, which, 'has complete power to avenge
itself, to recover its own property, and punish its enemies. This truth is
evident, because, if the state had not this power, there would be
disorder in the world, and injury would be suffered at the hands of the
wicked.'204
As we saw above, it is this warmongering faculty that makes the
state self-sufficient and thus externally sovereign; now it is also its
capacity to wage just war that preserves the jus gentium and makes it
efficient. Sovereignty flows from the universal moral and legal order,
as does the faculty to make war; the justness of war depends on its
being undertaken by a sovereign authority; the existence of sovereign
authorities depends on just wars; the preservation of the universal
moral and legal order of which sovereign authorities are composite
parts depends on the institution of just war as a means to settle
disputes within it.
Thus, we have come full circle. Every force or entity which is
introduced within the universal order operates as both poison and
antidote, as evil and as potential remedy. In a world beset by fragment-
ation and opened up to the radically foreign, each political being is
conditioned by difference, and is thus inherently ambiguous right
from the start. Vitoria does not solve the problem of order posed by
these beings and forces, but presupposes an order outside of which
this ambiguity and difference becomes unintelligible; what is outside
knowledge is thus also outside the scope of law; by making these
forces and beings known, they are also subjected to law by being
encircled by it and assimilated into it.
The state is presented as a solution to the problems posed by the Fall
233
or by the usurpation of a primordial and sacrosanct power structure.

Simultaneously, the introduction of the state within the universal
order raises new problems resulting from the state's capacity to solve
the original problem; war is a condition of the state, and the state is a
condition of war; yet war itself poses a threat which has to be encircled
and turned into an antidote and a warrant of the universal order.
Finally, the;'s gentium promises a universality beyond all difference, a
full realization of the presupposed structure. But since the inner
perfectibility of the lesser legal orders represented by states hinges on
the jus gentium, and the jus gentium in turn hinges on the former, it is
also a poison. It reintroduces difference at a new level: states have to
wage war in order to preserve both their own particularity and the
universal order simultaneously.
Outsides invented
In this section, we have seen how Machiavelli, More and Vitoria
respond to the problems created by the general theory of the state, and
how their responses in turn are conditioned by this theory, and the
knowledge which permits its articulation and sustains it.
As I have argued, the general theory of the state arose out of the
conceptual pressures posed by time and nominalism. Time gave poli-
tical knowledge a new turn, and released political beings from the
confines of liturgy and mimesis. Time made possible continuous poli-
tical beings; yet at the same time, it inscribed them into a domain of
change and contingency. Simultaneously, nominalism opened up a
logical void inside the universal whole of theological knowledge. The
significance of the struggle to think plurality pure was not to be found
in its success, but in its relative failure; the universalist framework
remained its condition of possibility, but the theory of the state was
literally brought down to earth, as were its teleological underpinnings.
From this arose the problem of particularity.
When later fused with neo-platonist cosmology in the sixteenth
century, the theory of the continuous and nominal state could be
supported by means of exempla, chosen on the basis of and closely
structured around resemblances between historical events and epi-
sodes, and between the origin and form of political beings. The recov-
ery of ancient political knowledge coincided with an exemplary his-
toricization of the general theory of the state, whose range of validity
was enlarged to cover beings of other than divine origin, and of other
forms than one single transcendent one; the number of possible roads
134
Inventing outsides
to political perfection increases proportionately, as do the sources of

imperfection.
With this complex series of ontological and epistemic mutations,
many things and forces which had previously been rendered meaning-
ful by Christian myth were deprived of meaning, and at the same time
manifested in political crisis. Otherness, in its various guises,
demanded a response at the same time as it set a limit to intelligibility.
It is in this context I have read Machiavelli, More and Vitoria, each
wrestling with one aspect of this heterogeneous outside, each provid-
ing a different solution of how to cope with otherness.
Machiavelli, facing political fragmentation and the eroding legiti-
macy of traditional authority, responds with a logic of innovation. But
as we have seen, this logic nourishes itself on a foundation which it
cannot but tacitly subvert. In his attempt to recover ancient political
wisdom and reinscribe it as a guide to the future by means of exempla,
either innovation is circumscribed by the validity of the exempla, or
the validity of the exempla is circumscribed by innovation. Through
innovation, Machiavelli subjects the forces of otherness to what we
today would call rationalization. Eroding legitimacy can be overcome
through dissimulation and concealment; war can be brought under
control with the aim of winning it.
More, facing ethical dissolution, war and religious reformation,
responds with a logic of isolation and transvaluarion. As we have seen,
this logic leads to a paradox of perfection; the more perfect Utopia
becomes, the more necessary it becomes for it to embark upon the
same practices whose transvaluarion was the impetus behind its iso-
lation. Through isolation, More withdraws from otherness into the
no-place of Utopia, but since its sameness is essentially indebted to
what it seeks to overcome and to assimilate, More ends up in a paradox
of revolution; discord and war can only be overcome by a new set of
transvalued standards, but their universalization necessitates yet
another war.
Vitoria, facing political fragmentation as well as a new form of
political life, responds by encirclement and assimilation of what is
foreign. But as we have seen, this encirclement amounts to a con-
tinuous reinscription and redescription of an already presupposed
universalist framework, but with the inevitable effect that this frame-
work becomes more inclusive, and so to speak, more tolerant. Every
possible disagreement is reduced to a prior agreement within this
framework; the disruptive impact of fragmentation, war and abori-
135
gines on universalist legal discourse is not denied, nor fully accounted

for, but instead subdued and tempered.
Thus, we are left with a general theory of the state whose coherence
is constantly threatened by its effort to cope with that which is alien
and new to it, and with a residue of concepts and phenomena which
together constitute the outside of both politics and knowledge. On this
outside, we find pagan deities such as Fortuna mingling with Indians
and Utopians; we find war and change, greed and passion, particular-
ity and contingency, but nothing which would merit the label of an
international system. As we have seen, there is no autonomous dis-
course on states in their sovereign particularity and individuality; nor
is there any firm line of demarcation drawn between what is inside
and what is outside a particular state, only what is inside and what is
outside the state as a general concept or as a general phenomenon
within a general framework of presuppositions; nor is there any
unifying and autonomous discourse on what is outside the general
theory of the state, since what is outside it, also is beyond the scope of
knowledge. In chapter 5, we shall see how this political knowledge is
replaced by a new one, one in which the discourse on sovereignty
becomes foundational in its own right.
136
How policy became foreign:
sovereignty, mathesis and interest in
the Classical Age
[S]i l'homme est souverainement raisonable il doit souverainement

faire regner la raison ...
Richelieu, Testament Politique
In textbooks of international relations theory, it is a common assump-

tion that the international system originated during the seventeenth
century, with the Peace of Westphalia as the decisive point of its
emergence.1 As I shall argue in the present chapter, this thesis rests on
a presentist apprehension of the terms 'international' and 'system'. As
a distinction in the manner of knowing entails a difference in the mode
of being, the international system as we know it today did not exist in
the Classical Age, no more than it did in the Renaissance. In these
periods, there is no object of knowledge called the international system.
Take Bull's definition of the term system: 'Where states are in regular
contact with one another, and where in addition there is interaction
between them sufficient to make the behaviour of each a necessary
element in the calculations of the other, then we may speak of their
forming a system'.2
To be sure, if we extend the range of application of the term
international to cover everything that takes place between states, we
are entitled to speak of something international in the Classical Age,
even if the term itself was never used by classical authors. By the same
token, we are entitled to speak of a system, since both Grotius and
Pufendorf use the term to convey the sense of a fundamental moral or
legal unity underlying the accentuated division into particular states.3
But if we by international system mean a totality which is something
more than the sum of its constituent parts, yet something presumably
distinct from a universal Respublica Christiana, we have to wait another
200 years for its emergence within political knowledge.4
137
In the Renaissance, we could discern an awareness of otherness and

the emergence of a heterogeneous outside. To this outside corres-
ponds an inside, defined in terms of proto-sovereignty. There is,
however, no theory of particular and individual states; what we find
during the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance is a general theory of
the state, closely structured around the questions of the origin and
form of a body politic.
This differentiation was carried out within one and the same know-
ledge. With words and objects being inseparable, and knowledge
being built on an infinite chain of resemblances, the logical space
opened up by political nominalism was not only occupied by the
general concept of the state, but also filled with countless observations,
justifications and legendary accounts of political communities, indis-
criminately taken as exempla.
During the first decades of the seventeenth century, the general
theory of the state is replaced by a new theory of sovereignty, which
relegates the questions of the form and origin of political communities
to a secondary position within political discourse.
The concept of sovereignty now enters political discourse with a set
of functions entirely different from that of its antecedents in the
genealogical series. In the late Middle Ages and in the Renaissance,
sovereignty is a mark of superiority or a sign of divine origin, known
and disseminated by analogy, resemblance and exempla. By the begin-
ning of the Classical Age, the concept of sovereignty becomes structu-
rally interlinked with a new mode of knowledge.
First of all, classical sovereignty is a principle of individuation. It is not
attributed to a political entity on the basis of an already manifest
indivisibility; instead, it is sovereignty which has the power of individ-
uation since it is 'it selfe a thing indivisible'.5 Consequently, sover-
eignty itself becomes 'sovereign' in political discourse as 'the most
necessarie point for the understanding of the nature of a Common-
weale'.6
Second, and a corollary of the first point, sovereignty is not exclus-
ively linked to the person of the prince. As a principle of individuation,
it is also a principle of identification. Sovereignty can be attributed as a
predicate either to the state taken as a whole, or to its specific locus
within the same state. In classical theories of sovereignty, there is a
'great difference betwixt the state, and the government of the state'.7
On the one hand, classical sovereignty requires the intense divini-
zation and personalization of authority in the hands of a sovereign, on
138
How policy became foreign
the other, it necessitates an abstract notion of a naturalized state as a
symbol of depersonalized authority.8
The King becomes a metaphor of the State, and conversely; classical
theories of sovereignty can never arrive at a stable differentiation
between these poles and only make the locus of sovereignty relative to
perspective; what appears as appearance from one perspective
realizes itself as reality from the other. Ideological justifications of
absolutism are built upon the problematic attempt to identify these
two sovereignties, and a concomitant oscillation between the perspec-
tives and metaphors from which this double signification begins to
take place.
Third, and most important, classical sovereignty is a principle of order
since its concept defines the domain of objects of an autonomous
discourse, a science of states. Classical sovereignty identifies and indi-
viduates states as concrete empirical beings and makes them accessible
to classification, ranking and comparison according to a determined
set of variables.
As I intend to demonstrate in this chapter, these profound changes
in the discourse on sovereignty, while to a great extent caused by the
experience of religious and civil wars following upon the Reforma-
tion,9 are simultaneously entwined with and conditioned by the
substitution of classical knowledge based on representation and
mathematical constructability for Renaissance knowledge built on
resemblance and exempla.
My claim that there is nothing that merits the label 'international
system' in the classical period must be seen against this backdrop.
Although there is no international system, there is nevertheless a
tabulated order of states in the Classical Age. With the advent of the
scientific revolution, we can detect the emergence of a new discursive
practice, a system for the forming and validation of empirical state-
ments about states and their intercourse. That is, we have states as well
as relations between states in the classical period, but these relations
do not themselves exist independently of states.
The source of this discursive practice, however, is not to be found in
the depths of the textbook canon on the origin of international rela-
tions, commonly identified with Hobbes and Grotius.
As I intend to show, the classical order of states has very little to do
with a Hobbesian condition of 'perpetuall war710 in which 'Persons of
Soveraigne authority, because of their Independency, are in continual
jealousies, and in the state and posture of Gladiators; having their
139
weapons pointing, and the eyes fixed on one another/ 11 and even less
affinity with the Grotian universalist view of a society ruled by laws
'which are of perpetual validity and suited to all times', founded not
on 'expediency alone' but on 'the very nature of man', and which even
in the absence of sanction are 'not entirely void of effect'.12
Rather, and as I shall argue, the classical order of states is to be found
on the surface of empirical discourse about concrete states and their
interests. The principal aim of this chapter is to describe the emergence
and articulation of the analysis of state interest as an autonomous
branch of political knowledge in terms of its conditions of possibility
within the more general matrix of sovereignty and knowledge in the
Classical Age.
The chapter is subdivided as follows. In the first section, I shall briefly
describe classical knowledge and its relationship to classical notions of
sovereignty. Following Foucault, I shall argue that classical knowledge
is not reducible to 'rationalism' or to 'empiricism'; behind these episte-
mic opinions we are able to distinguish a set of shared rules for the
constitution of knowledge and domains of objects.13 In the second
section, I shall analyse the fundamental theoretical options and presup-
positions available to and explored by political theorists and historians
in their efforts to analyse state interests, an effort that originated in
France on the eve of the Thirty Years War as a self-conscious attempt to
rationalize foreign policy. In the third section, I shall analyse the impact
of the analysis of interest on the practices of sovereign states, as
reflected in their manuals and institutional arrangements.
The science of order and the semantics of

sovereignty
In chapter 4, we could observe how the general theory of the state was
articulated on the basis of the late-medieval and Renaissance know-
ledge. We also could observe some surface symptoms of its imminent
transformation during the Renaissance, since it was unable to cope
fully with particularity and contingency.
In the strange but fairly coherent blend of superstition, recovered
ancient erudition and emergent rationality which constitutes the body
of Renaissance knowledge, we are able to notice local divergencies
which permit us to hear a distant echo of our own political rationality,
and which therefore are sometimes unduly emphasized by presentist
and finalist historians.
140
During the classical period, however, one of these divergencies

seems to gain the upper hand. Whereas More's dream of a Utopian
society is taken up and cultivated into a literary genre by Campanella
and Comenius, and whereas Vitoria's provisional enlargement of the
scope of natural law spills over into the universalism of Grotius and
Gentili, secular statecraft, which carries the stigma of disorder in the
Renaissance, becomes the foundation of order in the age of absolutism.
Apart from the impact of the Reformation and the religious wars,
one clue to this discontinuity is provided by the simultaneous change
in the foundations of knowledge which takes place in the beginning of
the seventeenth century. The epistemic foundation of the general
theory of the state is swept away and replaced by a new epistemic
figure, intimately linked to a new theory of sovereignty that focuses on
its indivisibility.
The example of Jean Bodin is interesting in this respect, since the
first step towards such a theory of sovereignty has been attributed to
him, while its epistemic underpinnings are commonly neglected, since
they represent disturbing traces of a different age. First, Bodin is
indeed among the first to stress the indivisibility of sovereignty and its
function as a mark of the individuality of a state in legal terms, as 'the
most high, absolute and perpetuall power over the citizens and sub-
jects of a Commonweale'.14 Sovereignty stands in a relation of mutual
implication to the state; to be sovereign is to be sovereign over a state,
and the state is dependent on a 'powerful sovereignty'15 as to its
existence. In Bodin's theory, the presence of the state both enables and
constrains sovereignty, ontologically as well as legally. Second, this
dualistic conception is understood in terms of final causes: sovereignty
is necessary in order for the state to fulfil its thisworldly purpose, but
within a divinely ordained universe, and the presence of the imperfect
state is necessary if sovereignty is to bring its immanent telos into
existence. Later, when stripped of its Aristotelian causa finalis, this dual
conditioning will be replaced by a problematic identification between
king and state in the mature absolutist ideology.
Third, and contrary to the superficial modernity of the Bodinian
theory, it is evident from the last pages of Six Livres de la Republique
(1576) that it remains firmly rooted within the framework of Renais-
sance knowledge:
Wherefore as of Treble and Base voyces is made a most sweet and
melodious Harmonie, so also of vices and vertues, of the different
qualities of the elements, of the contrarie motions of the celestial
141
spheres, and of the Sympathies and Antipathies of things, by indisso-
luble means bound together, is composed the Harmonie of the whole
world ... [s]o also a well ordered Commonweale is composed of good
and bad ... which so by a wonderfull disagreeing concord, ioyne the
highest with the lowest... Wherefore what the unitie is in numbers,
the understanding in the powers of the soule, and the center in a
circle: so likewise in this world that most mightie king, in unitie
simple, in nature indivisible, in puritie most holy, exalted farre above
the Fabrike of the celestiall Spheres, ioyning this elementarie world
with the celestiall and intelligible heavens ... unto the imitation of
whome, every good prince which wisheth his Kingdome and Com-
monweale not in safetie onely, but even good and belessed also, is to
frame and conforme himselfe.16
For all its superficial modernity, the entire logic of Bodin's theory of
sovereignty is dependent on infinite resemblances and exempla which
multiply throughout his discursive universe, and the forces of antipa-
thy and sympathy which connect microcosm and macrocosm together
in a divine and harmonious order; without God at the apex of the
entire construct, there can be no sovereignty.17 Nor is a systematic
comparison of individual states yet possible, even if Bodin sometimes
is credited with innovations in historiography and legal method-
ology.18 Bodin's theory of sovereignty is based upon the premise of
recurrent cycles in historical time, which restricts comparison across
history and between indivisible political beings to one of exempla:
Yet doubt I not but that some more certaine precepts might be given
of the chaunges, and mines of Commonweales, if a man would enter
into a certaine account of the time past even from the beginning of
the world ... going backwards, shall of all the eclipses of the Sunne
and of the Moone ... by most certaine demonstrations comprehend
the reason of the whole time past: and compare the histories of the
most true writers amongst themselves, and with the oppositions and
coniunctions of the celestial starres and bodies, knit and conioyne the
same with numbers, whose force in all the course of nature is
greatest.19
Bodin's position is therefore utterly problematic; for how can indivi-

sible things be parts of a whole, which itself is indivisible? It seems to
me that the significance of Bodin's theory of sovereignty lies in its
attempt to elaborate a logic of indivisibility within the framework of
the general theory of the state, and so to speak, justify indivisible
sovereignty from within a framework which simultaneously is under-
mined by its presence.
142
The epistemic edifice underlying Bodin's reasoning is thoroughly
demolished in the early seventeenth century, while the logical core of
the theory of sovereignty is retained, articulated and refined during
the same century, until it becomes the centrepiece of the new cognitive
and political order.20
Knowing: analysis and the mathesis
To the classical writers, there can be no knowledge except by intuition
or deduction, by pure observation or by valid inference from indubita-
ble premises, but underlying both these strategies of knowing is the
necessity of comparison, understood as the systematic detection of
identity and difference among objects: 'in every instance of discursive
reasoning we know the truth with precision only by way of com-
parison'.21 Knowledge ceases to be structured around resemblance and
sustained by exempla, and the dominant method of knowing becomes
analysis: 'If we perfectly are to understand a problem we must abstract
from it every superfluous conception, reduce it to the simplest terms,
and by means of an enumeration, divide it up into the smallest possible
parts.'22
Reading, for example, Descartes' Regulae (1628), we learn that this
analysis must proceed from the detection of identity and difference
only between 'those objects of which our minds seem capable of
having certain and indubitable cognition'.23 Further, it must continue
by strict comparison of objects, which consists in 'the ordering and
arranging of the objects' so that we can distinguish the 'simple things
from those that are complicated and set them out in an orderly
manner'24 and reduce 'obscure propositions step by step to simpler
ones',25 so that finally 'every single thing relating to our undertaking'
can be surveyed in a continuous and wholly uninterrupted sweep of
thought, and be included in a 'sufficient and well-ordered enumer-
ation'.26 Finally, this uninterrupted enumeration and ordering can
take place along two main dimensions. Objects can be arranged either
nominally and qualitatively according to their 'absolute' differences,
or, they can be arranged ordinally and quantitatively, according to
their 'relative' differences.27 Comparison can then take place along
those dimensions, either, as in the former case, as a comparison of order
or, as in the latter, as a comparison of measurement. Ultimately, however,
the comparison of measurement is dependent on an already detected
and sequential order of objects, since measurement has to be under-
taken from a common unit in terms of which the intervals between the
143
ordered objects can be expressed. Order, however, can be detected by

the mind without reference to any exterior unit, and furnishes the unit
necessary for measurement.28 In the Classical Age, to know is in
essence to be able to classify things according to relations of equality
and inequality, and to be able to represent all relationships of identity
and difference in a continuous table or taxonomy.
This knowledge built on systematic comparison and simultaneous
ordering is what Descartes calls a mathesis universalis, or a general
science of order based on first principles of order applicable to any
domain of objects - or rather being that which constitutes objects as
well as domains of knowledge. For objects, to be knowable is to be
orderable, and conversely; to exist becomes a function of being known.
As Lachterman has pointed out, the analytic method not only
codifies the rules of procedure necessary to attain knowledge; it
defines the objects to which it is applied so that their intelligibility
becomes identical with their susceptibility to analysis. The being of
objects coincides with their ability to enter into determinate ratios and
proportions with other beings.29 In short, the mathesis implies con-
structability, so that what exists ultimately depends on its ability to
display ordered relationships with other things, and these ordered
relationships in turn result from their being representable as ordered.
As such, the mathesis clearly disqualifies the general theory of the
state as a branch of knowledge. The general science of order, being - as
Descartes says - no more altered by its subject than sunlight is by the
variety of things it shines on, not only finds reason to doubt the
existence of Chiron the Centaur and many other entities which popu-
lated the general theory of the state, but also the loose comparison
according to resemblance of origin and form it employs in its exempla.
It also throws doubt on the sources of exempla, distilled as they are
from a mixture of astrological observation, mythological accounts and
rhetorical historiography; it questions the very pattern of historical
recurrence that makes exempla edifying and useful as clues to future
events.30 Within the general science of order, we should confine our
investigation to what we can rationally intuit or empirically perceive,
and 'set aside probable conjectures' and 'assertions on obscure mat-
ters'.31 As a consequence, science is separated from the inherited genre
of exemplary history, and observational or introspective accounts
become epistemically distinct from documentary or legendary ones: as
we shall see, edifying exempla are replaced by problem-solving analy-
sis in the knowledgeable practice of statecraft.
144
Speaking: language, society and representation

Now if we cut deeper into the conditions of the mathesis, we find that it
stands in a relation of mutual presupposition to a separation of
language and world, a systematic disjunction between signs and
things, and an analysis of language as a grid of representation. In the
late Middle Ages and in the Renaissance, signs are objects and objects
are signs; our access to the world goes through the decipherment of
the infinite and homogenous stratum of things and words. Language
is not an arbitrary system of signs, it is part of the world; the names of
things lie hidden in the things they designate. There is no funda-
mental difference between what is written in a book and what can be
read in the examination of an object and through detection of its
resemblances to other objects or words.32 Consequently, there are no
distinctions between subject and object, fiction and reality, nor
between reason and rhetoric.
This arrangement is profoundly reorganized in the seventeenth
century. The first distemper of learning, says Bacon, is 'when men
study words and not matter',33 since knowledge 'is nothing but a
representation of truth: for the truth of being and the truth of knowing
are one, differing no more than the direct beam and the beam
reflected'.34 But in order for knowledge to constitute itself as such, the
beam must be dusted off: 'The mind of man is far from the nature of a
clear and equal glass, wherein the beams of things should reflect
according to their true incidence; nay, it is rather like an enchanted
glass, full of superstition and imposture, if it be not delivered and
reduced'.35
In order to dust off and disenchant the glass, the referential possi-
bility of language is theorized and elevated to hegemonic position,
while its rhetorical possibilities - so important to the Renaissance - are
subdued or declared abusive by a set of moves themselves rhetorical in
character: it is no coincidence that philosophers such as Hobbes, Locke
and Pufendorf devote so much labour to the problem of language in
their political works; the systematic rearrangement of the relationship
between language and world becomes an essential step towards a new
order.
Doing this, they begin by asking how a sign could be linked to what
it signifies, and respond by analysing representation, which presup-
poses and articulates a binary relation between the sign and what is
signified. The harmonious relation between words and things are no
145
longer guaranteed by a divine order of the world: what once started in

Babel is brought to completion by the end of the sixteenth century:
man still striveth to reintegrate himself in those benedictions, from by
his fault he hath been deprived; and as he hath striven against the
first general curse [the Fall] by invention of all other arts, so hath he
sought to come forth of the second general curse (which was the
confusion of the tongues) by the art of Grammar.. .x
From here on, the relation between the sign and the signified is to
reside inside knowledge, and to this binary relationship effected by
grammatical analysis corresponds a simultaneous division of subject
and object into 'mind' and 'body'.37 The relation between language
and world is duplicated in the bond between one idea and another on
the inner arena of human consciousness, which is, when dusted off, a
passive recipient of representations. The use of speech, says Hobbes,
consists in signification, in the 'Registering of the Consequences of our
thoughts, which being apt to slip out of our memory ... may again be
recalled, by such words they were marked by [and] to Register, what
by cogitation, wee find to be the cause of any thing, present or past.'38
In order to signify something, a sign must represent what it signifies,
and also make manifest the very relation that connects it with its
signification: 'The manner how Speech serveth the remembrances of
causes and effects, consisteth in the imposing of Names, and the
Connexion of them ... By this imposition of names ... we turn the
reckoning of consequences of things imagined in the mind, into a
reckoning of the consequences of Appellations.'39
Thus, as Foucault has pointed out, the representative link between a
sign and what it signifies is dependent upon the fact that an idea can
be the sign of another, not only because a bond of representation can
be established between them, but also because representation itself can
be represented within the idea that is representing: the signifying idea
becomes double, since superimposed upon the idea that is replacing
another there is also the idea of its representative power.40 Language,
in order to function as a locus or grid of representation, must be built
around the notion of duplicated representation: the verbal sign must
represent, but that representation, in turn, must be represented within
it if language is to become transparent to thought. Ideas, signs and
things must be ordered according to the same principles, but on
different strata; consciousness, language and reality must be linked
together isomorphically and as projections of each other within the
same logical space.
146
How polio/ became foreign
As a consequence, language and knowledge both become logically

interdependent of - and also within - the grid of representation:
[TJruth consisteth in the right ordering of names in our affirmations,
[and] a man that seeketh precise truth, had need to remember what
every name he uses stands for; and to place it accordingly.41
From this we may see what truth is ... it is that our words should
fairly represent the sense of our mind.42
To the classical writers, this rearrangement poses a dilemma, since
language must occupy two positions simultaneously within the
mathesis. First, language is a grid of analysis. Language is necessary
both to bestow order upon the world, and to represent this order as
accurately as possible. Second, language itself constitutes an object of
analysis, and must be ordered by a simultaneous gesture in order to
function as a grid of analysis. Language must analyse, but must also be
analysed in order to be able to perform its analysing function. It must
be known as an object in order to function as a grid, and it must function
as a grid in order to be known as an object. In short, language must
analyse itself by itself.
Another problem created by the demythologization of signs con-
cerns the relationship between language and society. If language is no
longer woven into the world by an original and divine gesture at the
moment of creation, its signs are either natural or artificial, presented
to men by things themselves, just as 'smoke is a sign of fire'43 or
established by convention or agreement. To Hobbes, the names of a
language are a system of marks before they are a system of signs; they
are individual property before they can be collectively shared and
used as a means of communication.44 A similar view is held by Locke:
'that then which words are marks of are the ideas of the speaker: nor
can anyone apply them as marks ... to anything else but the ideas he
himself hath'.45 Here the very fact that the representative relation
between ideas manifests itself on the inner surface of consciousness is
sufficient to make language private, and also sufficient to make
outward reference equally problematic: 'all our names are imposed to
signifie our conceptions; and all our affections are but conceptions;
when we conceive the same things differently, we can hardly avoyd
different naming of them'.46
If the collective nature of representative content is problematic, it is
so because an agreement on signification is lacking. Without such an
agreement on signification, 'the use of a language would become
147
meaningless [since] everyone could give an object any name he

wanted'.47 The possibility of representation thus becomes tied to the
social character of language and its use as a means of communication.
Hence, without 'an accord on the consistent employment of sounds',48
there is no 'shadow of society',49 since speech is necessary 'to make
known to others our wills, and purposes, that we may have the
mutuall help of one another'.50
At the same time, without a common language, there is no possi-
bility of knowledge. As Hobbes reminds us, in the state of nature, there
can be 'no knowledge of the face of the earth'.51 Classical knowledge
must therefore confront three problems simultaneously, which are
tightly linked together into one single problematique: without language,
there can be no society and no knowledge, since language is the basis
of communication and representation; without society, there can be no
language and no knowledge, since society is the basis of agreement on
representations and truth; without knowledge, there can be no lan-
guage and no society, since knowledge is the basis of cognitive order
and social peace.
The terms of this problematic are not commensurate, and none of
the component problems can be solved without disturbing the solu-
tion of another, unless we repeat the divine gesture by resorting to an
external event or entity, which takes on the heavy responsibility of
solving them all. First, any solution must account for the social nature
of artificial languages, and explain generically how artificial languages
first emerge, and then, how individual representations in the course of
this process become collective ones. Second, this solution must explain
and present as immutable the relative constancy and stability of the
representative links between ideas, signs and things, two features
which are necessary if language is to be susceptible to analysis accord-
ing to the rules of the mathesis, and at the same time serve as the grid of
any such analysis, irrespective of its domain.
To these problems the classical writers responded according to two
main options. The first might be labelled the contractual solution, and
is clearly expressed by Pufendorf:
[W]e must understand, that the ability of those objects which affect
our senses, is such, as not only to give us notice of their own presence
... but likewise to afford our Reason an opportunity of attaining the
Knowledge of other things, and this, either because there is a Natural
Alliance and Connexion between those Objects and Things with
which they thus bring us acquainted; or because Beings endued with
148
Sense and Understanding have, without this Natural Relation, fix'd
such Notions upon them, as to make them capable of representing
continually the Images of certain things to the Mind. Hence ariseth
the distinction of signs into those which are Natural, and those which
owe their force and validity to custom and compact... By compact,
Men have imposed the use and power of signifying, on certain
Things, actions and Motions, and above all, on Words.52
However, the contractual solution of the classics suffers from a

severe logical difficulty, whether it is used to explain the genesis of a
language or to justify the presence of a sovereign: the entity to be
explained or justified must be presupposed right from the start if the
explanation or justification is to hold, but its presence must be kept
secret if the presented solution is to have the desired rhetorical
impact. It is not clear whether classical writers such as Hobbes and
Pufendorf were aware of this difficulty, since what makes us experi-
ence it as a difficulty is the distinction - arguably a modern one -
between a real and a fictitious contract. On the one hand, if we
interpret a contractual agreement as something at least hypothetic-
ally real, the tautological implication between starting point and end
result will itself look real; as Rousseau and Condillac later were to
point out, any such compact or contract between men presupposes
that the essential step has already been taken. For men to agree on
representations necessitates a pre-established communicative bond
between them, a shared language in which they can phrase all
further agreement.53 There is a parallel argument for sovereignty: for
subjects to agree on a definite and indivisible locus of sovereignty in
society, a central authority is necessary. On the other hand, if we
interpret a contractual agreement as pure fiction, taking place within
a grid of representable relationships between political beings but
outside real time, the contractual solution merely renders the
relationship between language and society or between subject and
sovereign undecidable; the one is the condition of possibility of the
other.
The second theoretical option available is to explain the genesis of
language and representation as the outcome of agency. In some ficti-
tious beginning, man receives from nature the material preconditions
to make signs, and the first primitive signs produced serve as a baseline
for further agreement upon which signs, among those it is possible to
develop by means of analogy, are to be retained or discarded, until a
communicative bond is formed.54 As we shall see below, both these
149
solutions are tacitly premised on the presence of what they are

invoked to justify.
Ruling: sovereignty
While hypotheses of contract and action helped the classical writers to
explain the social roots of language or the linguistic roots of society,
none of them could account for the necessary constancy and stability
of representation and signifying. Rather the opposite: why should we
expect signs of any language to cease their development from primi-
tive roots at a given moment, and, so to speak, 'freeze' in an indissolu-
ble union with what they contingently happen to designate in the
realms of consciousness and reality? This problem becomes all the
more crucial in relation to a conception of truth as accurate represen-
tation: since classical truth hinges on the perfection of language - on
the exactness of naming, on the precise formation of propositions
about a classifiable world - no flux in the latter can be permitted
without contaminating the former with contingency and indetermi-
nateness. If 'reason ... is nothing but the reckoning ... of the Con-
sequences of generall names agreed upon, for the marking and signi-
fying of our thoughts',55 this is still not enough to account for the
simultaneous orders of society, language and knowledge, since
no mans Reason, nor the Reason of any number of men, makes the
certaintie ... and therefore, as when there is a controversy in an
account, the parties must by their own accord, set up forrightReason,
the Reason of some Arbitrator, or Judge, to whose sentence they will
both stand.56
It belongeth therefore to him that hath the Soveraign Power, to be
Judge ... of Opinions and Doctrines, as a thing necessary to peace;
therby to prevent Discord and Civil Warre.57
Now, just as there must be an ultimate source of the distinction
between right and wrong if order is to be established in society,58
someone must be accredited with the right to decide upon represen-
tations and truth; someone must monitor and regulate discourse, since
language constitutes the baseline of all further order in society. It is
here, at this crucial juncture, that the sovereign enters the game for the
first time: 'a Commonwealth, without Soveraign Power, is but a word,
without substance, and cannot stand ... seeing the knowledge of all
Law, dependeth on the knowledge of the Soveraign Power .. .'59
Repeating the Platonic rhetorical stratagem designed to end all
150
rhetoric, the relationship between truth and rhetoric is once more
reversed. To Hobbes, the proper use of speech for representation
corresponds to a series of abuses, 'which may also be numbered
amongst the sorts of Madnesse' such as 'inconstant signification' and
metaphorical use of words, 'in other sense that they are ordained for',
or when 'put together, have in them no signification at all'.60 To Locke,
even more devoted to the purification of language since 'speech being
the great bond that holds society together', the worst abuse of words is
to detach them from clear and distinct ideas or to conflate them with
things proper.61 To Thomas Sprat, one of the founders of the Royal
Society, 'specious tropes and figures' should be banished 'out of all
Civill societies as a thing fatal to peace and good Manners'. In their
own activity, the Royal Society should avoid 'myths and uncertainties',
and instead its members are recommended to choose a 'close, naked
and natural way of speaking... as near mathematical plainness as they
can'.62
It is in this lacuna the analysis of representation and the theory of
sovereignty coincide and mutually reinforce each other: in the absence
of preordained order, someone must repeat the divine gesture. To the
classical authors, to whom the possibility of internal organic evolution
is unknown, there cannot be order without an orderer. A contractual
theory of sovereignty or of language can never explain the presence of
the sovereign or the presence of stable representations, except by
making their absence seem impossible post hoc.
Further, a classical theory of order can only make order intelligible
and desirable in contrast with what went before it, such as the disorder
caused by civil war, rhetoric and passion. Against this backdrop of an
otherness, which is contained in the prehistory of the state as a state of
nature from which it emerges, the sovereign is introduced into know-
ledge as its condition of possibility through a complex set of rhetorical
moves.63 Being the vanguard of peace and truth and the sworn enemy
of rhetoric, he is the source of all representation and the ultimate
guarantor of its stability and constancy in time. Just as the value of a
coin in the mercantilist economy is ultimately assured by the sover-
eign, the sovereign must be in charge with the definition of words
before he can give and enforce laws. The namegiving function of
Leviathan thus logically precedes his lawgiving function, and the links
between one idea and another and the simultaneous connection
between a name and the object it is to designate must be silently
regulated and safeguarded as the basis of cognitive order and right
252
reason: without this stability, taxonomic classification is impossible,

and without such cognitive order based on continuity and the
enumeration of objects, political order and security itself becomes
literally unintelligible in the absolutist scheme.
Thus, the quest for epistemic certainty and the quest for stable
representations are connected to the quest for security, peace and
social order, and this in three different ways: first, through supplemen-
tation, since epistemic certainty sustains and reinforces the order
upheld by the sovereign, and conversely; second, through articulation,
since stable representation articulates and legitimizes sovereign
power, and conversely; and third, through duplication, since the
positions allotted to words and things by a knowledge based on rep-
resentation are duplicated by the position of the sovereign and the
positions which the sovereign allots to subjects, objects and concepts
within the political and social order.
These relations are manifest also at the level of opinion. If the tacit
presence of the sovereign is what guarantees the continuity between
language and world which is integral to both representation and
analysis, he himself cannot be represented within the same know-
ledge, either as part of the political structure, or in its ideological
underpinnings. Being the condition of representability, the sovereign
escapes representation and disappears in front of our eyes at the
moment when analytic reason attempts to reach its secret foundation.
Just as no axiomatic proposition can be analysed in terms of its deriva-
tives, so sovereignty, which is 'no more divisible than a point in
geometry'64 can no more be justified or criticized through an analysis
of representation than the existence of the point can be demonstrated
from within geometry; it must remain closed to analysis in order to be
wide open to faith.65
Ideologically, this ontological and epistemic arrangement has four
important consequences pertaining to the identity of state and sover-
eign. First, it conditions the structural relation between the sovereign
and the state, and defines the continuity between personalized auth-
ority and the abstract entity of the state in equal terms, either meta-
phorically, or, as we shall see in the next section, through the crucial
notion of interest. Second, it reverses the theory of political represen-
tation, and articulates it strictly parallel to the concept of represen-
tation within language and knowledge. If a republican theory
regarded representation as warranted by the unity of the represented,
an absolutist theory of government has it the other way around; if
252
being presupposes representation in knowledge, the being of the state
presupposes representation by the sovereign within the political
order. Even in the subtle Hobbesian-nominalist case, in which the
identity between state and sovereign cannot be accomplished through
an easy metaphorical leap, their continuity is guaranteed by political
representation.66 To be sovereign is, in essence, to be rqjresentative: 'the
Common-Wealth is no person, nor has capacity to doe anything, but
by representative (that is, the Soveraign)',67 because 'it is the Unity of
the Representer, not the Unity of the Represented, that maketh the
Person One'.68
Third, the tacit presence of indivisible sovereignty within know-
ledge helps to account for the ideological deification of sovereign
authority. The theory of sovereignty, in its stepwise articulation and
unbridling from Bodin onwards, not only placed the sovereign above
the law and made him the sole source of right and wrong in the state.
As Schmitt has noted, the King is the God of baroque philosophy,69
accountable to none except God himself, and therefore subject to no
human limitation whatsoever, except the undeniable fact of mortality.
By taking the place of God, notes Louis XIV in his Memoires, 'we seem
to participate in His knowledge as well as in His authority'.70 The state,
however, was permanent and continuous, and independent of the
transitory existence of its personification. Now themes from the
mimetic paradigm of rulership are brushed off: the intense divini-
zation of the sovereign goes hand in hand with a corresponding
mystification of the state, to the effect that both become elevated to a
point inaccessible to ordinary reason. King and State are sacred, and
demand an ideological silence; this ideological silence is in turn con-
ditioned by the limits of representation in language and knowledge.
Thus Priezac was able to observe that
it seems that the same band which so gloriously encircles the
monarch's head also ties our tongues in order to prevent us speaking
of it. To discuss it [Royal Majesty] meanly is to injure it; one senses its
secret movements much better than one expresses them; and it is not
with imperfect speech but with religious silence that we should
respect the features the divine hand imprints on the foreheads of
those with whom He designs to share his power.71
This is not only an explicit ideological denial of any higher reference
point that could be used to evaluate and criticize the actions of the
ruler; it is also indicative of the logical difficulty of establishing any
such reference point. It is not only that the sovereign wants to be
153
immune to criticism; rather, in the absolutist order, criticism, as we

have come to know it since the Enlightenment, is not yet an open
discursive possibility.72 As Schmitt has observed, sovereignty con-
tinued to be firmly connected to the notion of infallibility even in the
nineteenth century.73
Third, and most important, sovereignty, being the defining property
of both ruler and state as a whole, confers indubitability upon the
existence of both; what makes the state a state is the presence of a
sovereign; what makes the sovereign sovereign is the presence of a
state, which constitutes the absolute limit of his sovereignty in space;
what constitutes this space as absolute is the presence of sovereignty
within it. The relation between the sovereign and the state is anal-
ogous to that between a point and the notion of space in analytical
geometry: as a result, the state, in its indivisible formation as a spatial
entity, is constituted as an object of knowledge, which is accessible
from the position of the detached spectator. The state is no longer
explained by itself: one must now speak of the state as if one stood
outside it. The classical theory of sovereignty thus opens up a field of
empiricity and individuality, in which the state can be inscribed on the
basis of its identity as sovereign; states are qualified as objects of know-
ledge since they all share the minimum requisite of being sovereign,
and by enumeration of all further differences which can be detected
through comparison, it is possible to create a science of states which
obeys the rules of the mathesis. It is to this science of states we now
must turn.
The analysis of interest

Among historians of ideas, one way to approach the change that
occurs in the discourse on politics somewhere between the end of the
sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century, is to recon-
struct it as a conflict between politics and religion, between the forces
of secular statecraft embodied in the ideology of Reason of State and
the fundamental principles of Christianity, or, as in Viroli's recent and
more sophisticated study, between Reason of State and the 'politics' of
civic humanism.74 Those who choose this path conventionally begin
by tracking the dissemination of 'Machiavellian' ideas down in textual
detail, and then go on to study their basic manifestations in the forma-
tive experiences of actual states, until they can safely detect manifes-
tations of secular statecraft in the practices of mature absolutism.75
154
Such a history will depict the troubled and sometimes violent battle
between ideological positions, but it will most likely be insensitive to
what it regards as disturbing mutations in the epistemic stratum.76 The
final victory of Reason of State will thus appear as the result of a battle
of mere opinions, or worse, as the conscious and progressive discovery
of political reality, previously hidden from the West by the veil of
Christian myth.
Now even if we generously assume that there exists a loosely
structured ideology called Reason of State whose basic propositions at
a minimum display a family resemblance through time, the fact that it
became so widely disseminated remains something of a mystery if we
make it a matter of conflict between opinions. As Meinecke has noted
It is a peculiar thing, which in history is always cropping up with
reference to action prompted by Raison d'ttat, that one is perfectly
capable of allowing oneself to be guided by it involuntarily, and yet also
of turning away in anger from its fundamental propositions.'77
To be sure, this statement points to a series of important facts about
the troubled reception of secular statecraft. Almost no one accepted its
premises wholesale without qualifications, but struggled to elaborate
constraints of degree and circumstance on the use of force and dissi-
mulation in state practices.78 Even those who arduously opposed it in
theory nevertheless borrowed from it freely and employed the entire
range of stratagems made available by the new ideology, such as secret
publication and circulation of manuscripts, rhetorical ruses and textual
dissimulation, in order to combat it, so to speak, on its own territory.79
These facts become all the more puzzling when introduced into an
explanatory account. In a history of political ideas written as a battle of
opinions rather than as a battle of knowledges, acceptance and refu-
tation of a given opinion are necessarily opposed; one cannot accept
what one refutes without being disqualified as the narrative hero in
doxographic history, since it demands a consistent and rational subject
at its centre. Hence the term 'involuntarily' is introduced in the above
statement by Meinecke; through it, what one does not accept can
nevertheless enter consciousness and govern action.
But how, and from where? We can interpret this involuntariness in
two different ways. Either, as seems to be implicated by Meinecke, the
basic propositions of Reason of State must be accessible to conscious-
ness as a bundle of unthought premises, so that which is involuntarily
accepted is already present before the fact of its dissemination, which
was to be explained in the first place. Or, the political reality that
155
makes the fundamental assumptions of Reason of State both an accur-

ate representation of that reality and a feasible guide to practical
conduct in the same reality, is already present to perception and
deliberation, leaving the particular opinionated agent with the choice
of adapting or perishing, as the ideology to be explained itself pre-
scribes. In the first case, that whose presence is to be explained is
assumed to be present by the explanandum, whereas in the second
case, the explanation is but a continuation of explanans with other
means, here transposed to the level of opinionated forces. In either
case, by virtue of its familiarity, Reason of State is explained by itself.
Perhaps one should abandon the effort to study the ideology of
Reason of State as a continuous tradition, and, despite the recurrence
of family-resemblant motifs, write its history discontinuously and in
terms wholly contemporaneous with its manifestations. As I intend to
demonstrate in this section, the dissemination of secular statecraft is
not a matter of ideological opinion, but rather a matter of its epistemic
transformation. In the course of the seventeenth century, Reason of
State - if we are still entitled to use the concept - is disconnected from
its problematic foundation in the general theory of the state, which it
to an extent also absorbs and renders obsolete: it will not make much
sense within classical knowledge to say, for example, that a hereditary
king should obey a different political rationality than a usurper, or
that an aristocracy should be governed according to different prin-
ciples than a monarchy: the questions of origin and form are rele-
gated to a secondary position.
Instead, and closely connected to the emergence of the mathesis,
Reason of State emerges as an autonomous field of knowledge, with
its own domain of objects and its own rules for the formation of valid
statements. It is this discursive practice, empirical in outlook and
problem-solving in its objectives, which I shall label the analysis of
interest.
Studying this discursive practice, I shall be less occupied with the
books that at the time were collecting dust in libraries, but all the
more with the ones that travelled in saddlebags.80 The analysis of
interest is not a theory: its central assumptions are rarely made explicit,
and they have never been condensed into the abstract or codified into
regulae. Rather, it is a political technology for dealing with concrete
problems of foreign policy, often in a distinct historical perspective,
but from a shared set of presuppositions. It is these presuppositions,
and their relation to the mathesis, rather than the practical recommen-
156
dations that flow from the analysis, which are my chief concern in this
section.
The core variable which determines this field of knowledge and its
proper object is interest. To the modern political scientist, this term is so
familiar that its basic connotations are as self-evident as its precise
definition is contested.81 In order to understand this concept in terms
contemporaneous with it, we must therefore avoid a retrospective
reading which would merely endow the classical analysis of interest
with unity and coherence in the light of modern political theory; we
must not allow the modern meaning of interest to permeate into its
classical sphere of application. Rather, we should ask how the analysis
of interest became possible on its own terms, and how, long after it was
excommunicated from the territory of the political sciences, its core
concepts could be appropriated again and given new meaning by
nineteenth-century historiography.
Passions and interests
As has been frequently noted, the term interest, far from being absent
in earlier vocabularies, takes on new importance and meaning with
the beginning of the seventeenth century, until references to interest
become a commonplace or 'a cachet of sophistication'82 in political
philosophy towards the end of the same century.83
While the importance of the term interest in classical political litera-
ture seems undisputed, the explanations of this phenomenon differ.
Gunn argues, for example, that interest provided an essential concep-
tual tool for overcoming the difficulties inherent in the late medieval
way of conceptualizing the conflict between public and private. After
the experience of the English Civil War such a tool was needed that
could accommodate and resolve the conflicts it gave rise to in the
political and economic spheres.84
To Hirschman and Keohane, the swift acceptance of interest as the
linchpin of political thought and action is more symptomatic of emer-
gent capitalism. In both cases, the concept of interest is seen as a
strategic device introduced in order to combat otherness in the shape
of passion. Cupidity, avarice and glory, figuring as crucial motivating
forces in the self-understanding of the Middle Ages and the Renais-
sance, become an anathema to an age struggling to place politics and
economy on a rational footing, and must therefore either be repressed,
neutralized or canalized into purely rational ends. According to this
explanation, interest constitutes a middle ground on which the pas-
257
sionate impulses of the ego and the rational imperatives of the com-
munity can coincide to the advantage of both. Interest splits the
difference between passion and reason, so that private vices can be
translated into public virtues.85
Thus, in both these explanations, the concept of interest is analysed
in terms of its consequences as a harbinger of capitalism in the dom-
estic arena. While it may be true that 'interest made the journey from
the council chambers to the market place very quickly7,86 this func-
tionalist line of reasoning fails to account for two important facts. First,
by focusing exclusively on the impact of the term in the domestic
context as a function of its victory over the passions in moral discourse,
this view has difficulty accounting for the fact that the term was first
introduced in the discourse on interstate relations, a sphere which had
long since been defined by the absence of morality, or placed outside
its range of application.
This move was not so much a result of a conscious effort to 'amora-
lize' the intercourse between princes, but rather the unintended
outcome of the efforts to cope with the most pernicious implications of
secular statecraft by subjecting it to the constraints of degree and
circumstance, while retaining the moral autonomy of the state. From
Montaigne, Lipsius and Charron up to Descartes and Naude, we can
discern a series of practical recommendations that place severe limits
on such practices as deceit, dissimulation, disinformation and corrup-
tion in the domestic context, but became increasingly permissive about
using them in dealings between princes, or against an unspecified and
variable 'enemy', or in the face of an unexpected crisis.87
Thus, in its interstate figuration, the concept of interest has been
seen either as an antidote to the more obnoxious forms of secular
statecraft, or as an articulation of it,88 but not as the core concept of an
autonomous discourse.
Second, by focusing on the rhetorical battle between the passions
and the interests in moral discourse, the functionalist explanation has
perhaps granted too much to the self-understanding of the classical
authors by taking their version of this Platonic opposition at face
value. Hence, one is led to regard this opposition as a clash between
moral opinions, rather than as a surface symptom of a conflict between
knowledges.
What makes the reconstructive value of these moral battles sus-
picious is the fact that they are consistently linked to an assertion of
newness. Just as Hobbes understands his effort to create a new rational
158
self out of the 'feare of death' and a new 'scientific' politics in oppo-
sition to rhetorics and dogma,89 and as Bacon and Descartes under-
stand their new science as a radical break from inherited opinion,90 so
our political technologists understand their analysis of interest as an
approach opposed to that of exemplary history. Unless we deconstruct
the opposition between passion and reason all the way down, it will
remain an enigma how Rohan and Pufendorf are able to heap scorn on
the use of history as a guide to political action in the prefaces to their
historical works, and then continue to sprinkle their works with
'lessons' for the benefit of statesmen, an enigma that can only be
solved by considering the profound change in metahistorical outlook
which the scientific revolution brings about.
As we may recall from chapter 4, the general theory of the state had
its range of application and validity defined by exemplary history,
such that every political occurrence touching upon 'matters of state'
could be subjected to judgement according to exempla, and that these
exempla, when pertaining to the relations between princes, not
infrequently depicted these relations in terms of cupidity and avarice,
chiefly manifested through territorial aggrandizement.
As we may also recall, the appeal to self-interest as an antidote to
war was among the commonplaces of Christian humanism in the
Renaissance.91 Ironically enough, self-interest now bursts in, but
without its desired pacific effects. The analysis of interest is opposed
precisely to the politics of passion and to a historical narrative which
has passion as its centrepiece, but also to exempla as the source of
legitimate action and validity. Instead, the analysis of interest ventures
to reconstruct the past and create a present in a mode narrowly
circumscribed by the rules of classical science. Writes Hobbes:
From the principal parts of Nature, Reason and Passion, have pro-
ceeded two kinds of learning, mathematical and dogmatical: the former
is free from controversy and dispute, because it consisteth in compar-
ingfigureand motion only; in which things, truth, and the interest of
men, oppose not each other; but in the other there is nothing undis-
putable, because it compareth men, and meddleth with their right
and profit; in which, as oft as reason is against man, so oft will a man
be against reason.92
The mathesis links together truth and peace, and places them in
opposition to rhetoric and war. When grafted onto the category of
history, the mathesis promises us an archimedean point from which to
write and pass judgements on the past, unaided by exempla and
159
uncontaminated by the conflicts stirred up by passion and rhetoric.

Still, history, in the presentist or finalist modes we know it today, is a
possibility not yet open to the seventeenth century. In the analysis of
interest, time is not a principle of the internal organic development of
societies or of an international context; time is still entirely external to
objects, and poses a constant threat to the identity of individual states
as well. It remains to see how this identity is safeguarded, and how the
Classical Age copes with contingency and particularity.
The duality of interest
Our knowledge of the past is scarce and distorted, says Courtilz de
Sandras, since the passion of men 'has been the brush with which they
have been painted for us'.93 Here, as in the rules of the use and abuse
of speech in Hobbes or Locke, passion is evil primarily because it
subverts the act of representation. What appears to be most problem-
atic to Courtilz is not the fact that men sometimes are guided by
passion; rather, the historiographical problem arises out of the impas-
sioned self-description of these men. They cannot think of themselves
or their past in terms of accurate representations; the passion govern-
ing their deeds will inevitably be duplicated in their accounts of past
and present, and distort their truth and usefulness. Their stories will
tell us less about political events, and much more about the authors
themselves; there is no critical possibility here, no archimedean point
from which to judge events, no scientia, only legenda.
There is at all events no longer any need of historical exempla more
than as curiosities since it is not possible to establish any 'immutable
rule for the government of states', when 'that which causes trans-
formation in the affairs of their world, also causes change in the basic
principles of ruling'.94 Here, all the precepts that could be distilled
from the general theory of the state are found lacking in value: when
history no longer repeats itself infinitely, exempla become useless as
guides to action; the inherited category of history must be declared
null and void.
Thus, the sense of newness and innovation has its beginning at the
metahistorical level; it is not simply an awareness of historical change
that catalyses this sentiment; it is a matter of controlling time itself, and
of freeing oneself from the threat it poses to the stability of a know-
ledge based on mathesis and representation. If a history is to be written,
it must be written as an analysis which can subject historicity to the
limits of reason: its objects must be defined and remain identical with
160
themselves, so that they can be placed in an ordered series, ranging
from the simple to the more complex, or distributed on a scale and
measured according to common qualities. A 'history' founded on the
rules of general science must assume rational reconstructability of its
field, so that one can decide what is a historical event and what is not; it
must assume an ordering principle which permits the historian to
arrange these events in a manner accessible to understanding and
analysis. The categories necessary to perform this task must, however,
themselves be able to withstand corrosive change when applied across
time: ideally, one should be able to use the same categories to explain
and understand an event of a distant past as those which one uses to
illuminate present affairs. These categories and their representative
content must not be allowed to vary according to the differing self-
understandings of the agents of different times, but instead must
ideally be able to order these self-understandings on a surface wholly
simultaneous to and correlative to that of historical events, so that the
one can be described and explained in terms of the other; subjective
'belief and objective 'event' will henceforth be linked to one another
as cause to effect and effect to cause, but firmly divided as to their
essence, the one being cognizant, the other extended in space.
To be sure, there had been efforts at comparison prior to the analysis
of interest. The discovery of America had sensitized Christianity to
cultural differences, and given rise to an entire genre of literature
devoted to the explanation and understanding of these differences
between peoples.95 Simultaneously, the early seventeenth century
witnessed an intense polarization between the Habsburg and the
French crowns, and it was left to philosophers to explain this discord
within Christianity in terms of accidents of climate and geography.96
Now what is peculiar to the analysis of interest is that it starts with
sovereignty as the ordering and individuating principle that makes
states worthy of further comparison: if sovereignty endows the state
with the essential self-identity needed to qualify it as an object of
knowledge, the concept of interest provides the point from which the
detection of differences in a plurality of states can proceed. For just as
'princes command the people and interest commands princes',97 so
interest defines the field of objectivity of seventeenth-century historio-
graphy, since 'there are no princes in the world that do not conduct
themselves according to their interest'98 and since 'knowledge of this
interest is as much elevated above that of the actions of princes, as they
themselves are above the people'.99 That is, regarded from a vantage
161
point outside time, the affairs of states are regulated by interest; it

appears as the only legitimate principle of historical reconstruction
and qualitative and quantitative comparison of states. Consequently,
what counts from now on as a 'historical event' is a clash of interests or
a reversal of a power relationship.
Parallel to its introduction in the discourse about states, however,
the notion of interest was permeating the political folklore of the age,
and gradually became reined as the secret condition behind all agency.
To La Rochefoucauld, the 'virtues lose themselves in interest as the
rivers are lost in the sea'.100 To Silhon, even more incapable of discern-
ing other motivating forces than interest, 'almost all the actions of our
life are excited by some notion of interest of whatever genre [and] to
wish to ban interest from our lives would be to take from a machine
the springs that make it move, and destroy the part of a compound
object that makes it act'.101 To Cardinal de Retz, 'the truest maxim for
judging sanely the intentions of men is to examine their interests,
which are the most ordinary rule of all their actions.'102 To Herle and
Nedham, interest is an autonomous social force, whose workings go
beyond individual agency in both scope and impact.103 As a result,
agency cannot be understood in terms other than interest, and under-
standing itself is animated by the notion of interest: despite the passive
role allotted to subjectivity by classical philosophy, to understand is
just one activity among others.
In the analysis of interest, the concept of interest is as ambiguous
and primitive as it is central. Interest is never defined in the abstract,
but used to define all other concepts with which it entertains inferen-
tial or metaphorical connections. These concepts stand in a dual
relationship to the empirical estimate of interest that results from the
analysis: first, as determinants of interest in general or as variables in
an analysis of actual interests, and second, as prescribed objectives of
policy in general and foreign policy in particular. Four such determi-
nants or objectives are pertinent to the classical analysis of interest:
power, wealth, security and reputation.
That is, if one possesses accurate knowledge of the size of a country,
its natural resources and the size of the royal revenue, the number
of its inhabitants and their natural inclinations, one simultaneously
possesses a fair estimate of its military strength and hence of its
interests.104 Power and wealth, in theory as well as in the concrete
political practices of the Classical Age, are inseparable: not only in
terms of a causal relationship or in a strategic calculus of ends and
262
means, but also at the level of signification. Wealth is a sign of power
and power is a sign of wealth; to display wealth is to display power,
and conversely.105
In relations between states, both power and wealth are conceived of
in zero-sum terms. The concept of power, previously interpreted as an
ability or disposition inherent in particular substances, is successively
released from its logical connections to Aristotelian causality and
reinterpreted in terms of mechanistic causality.106 If the objects of the
physical world are inanimate, so are the forces responsible for their
movement in space; if the objects of the political and social worlds are
animate, this is because the forces responsible for their interaction
reside with an agent. Thus Hobbes, anxious to demythologize power,
was stripping the concept of power of its previous connotations and
reinscribing it within the mathesis: 'Power and cause are the same
thing. Correspondent to cause and effect, are power and act... Where-
fore the power of an agent and the efficient cause are the same
thing.'107
As a consequence, power becomes a measurable property rather
than a disposition or a relation; like wealth, it can be acquired, alien-
ated, and exchanged and its possession can be communicated and
translated from one form to another. Power and wealth can be sub-
jected to calculation in the same fashion as weight or velocity, and
since their quantity in the world is constant, a conflict of interest will
be discernible whenever their distribution is unequal. Furthermore,
intimately tied to the new concept of power, is the concept of the
political subject. If power is thought of causally, and if its possession is
to be communicated with an eye to a desired effect upon an adversary,
subjects must not only be able to communicate their intentions, but
also able to gain introspective knowledge of their interests. As we shall
see below, this connection between power and the cogito is duplicated
in the analysis of state interests.
If the analysis of interest were based on the distribution of power
and wealth alone, the relations between states would inevitably
resemble a zero-sum game,108 but when it comes to security and
reputation, the classical analysis becomes more complex, and its con-
cepts look even less familiar to us. If both power and wealth are
constituted, represented and measured as material objects, security
and reputation are connected as predicates to the subjective side of the
state, to sovereignty itself. The ultimate subject of security is sover-
eignty, whether personalized in the sovereign, or in the abstract and
163
naturalized sense of the state as a whole, but its precise signification

varies with the point of reference. When securatio figures as an attri-
bute of personalized sovereignty, it connotes the personal preser-
vation and well-being of the sovereign, but when it is attributed as a
property of the state as a whole, it signifies the identity of a particular
state and its ability to remain identical with itself. Thus, when security
refers to the state, it does not do so primarily in terms of a preconsti-
tuted entity that wishes to preserve itself from an identifiable danger;
rather, it points to the identity of the state as that which has to be
rendered secure in the first place.109
This means that security is not primarily an object of foreign policy;
before security can be brought to function as such, it requires a prior
differentiation of what is alien, other or simply outside the state and
therefore threatens it, and what is inside and therefore constitutive of
it. In the Classical Age, the discourse of security has as its main task to
make intelligible what has to be secured, by a prior differentiation
between political order and its opposite, so that this identity can be
established in political practice. Security must be defined in terms of
fear, friendship in terms of enmity. Writes Hobbes: 'The Multitude
sufficient to confide in for our Security, is not determined by any
certain number, but by comparison with the enemy... Nor is it enough for
the security, which men desire should last all the time of their life, that
they be governed, and directed by one judgement, for a limited time.'
For in the absence of continuous sovereign power, 'they must ... by
the difference of their interests dissolve, and fall again into a Warre
amongst themselves'.110 As in the classical theories of contract, negati-
vity and otherness do not reside primarily in the spatial outside of
individual states, but are contained in their traumatic prehistory as a
threat of religious and civil war. The sovereign state is an offer you
cannot refuse, since enmity and discord can burst in at any time. Thus
Spinoza in his Tractatus Theologico-Politicus (1670): 'there is no body
who doth not desire to live in safety and out of fear ... He that lives
where there is continual Enmity, Hatred, Wrath and Deceit, must live
always in danger and fear ... if Men will live securely without fear,
there is an absolute necessity of uniting themselves and agreeing
together... . ' m
By the same token, reputation must not be understood primarily in
the superficial sense as the 'prestige' of a ready-made state in relation
to its formal equals.112 To be sure, it carries this signification, but it is
then restricted to personalized sovereignty, to the prestige of a king.
164
When attributed to the state as a whole, reputation is consistently
linked to the reflexive and reciprocal construction of state identity. A
sovereign state acquires part of its identity from being recognized
sovereign by other states: a state without reputatio is not a state in the
eyes of other states, and hence not qualified to be a political subject.
The reputation of a state - its 'stateness' - is in part dependent on the
reputation - in the today familiar sense - of its king. As a consequence,
reputation must be understood as a baseline component of state
identity before it can be understood as an aim of foreign policy. In
short, the recognition of a state hinges on the reputation of its king,
and the reputation of its king hinges upon the recognition of his state;
the reputation of a state hinges on its prior recognition as a state.
Richelieu, in his Testament Politique, spells out part of this connection
clearly:
Reputation is so very necessary to a prince that he of whom one has a
good opinion does more with his mere name than those who are not
esteemed do with their armies. They [princes] are obligated to value
their reputations more than their own lives, and they should risk
their faith and grandeur rather than allow their honor to be compro-
mised, being certain that the first diminuation that occurs to a prince's
reputation, however slight, is the most dangerous step that he may
take towards his ruin.113
If the discursive practice of securatio creates identity by a rhetoric of
otherness and enmity, the discursive practice of reputatio structures a
table of identities by means of the fragile sameness and friendship
provided by mutual recognition. Interpreted as structural principles,
security and reputation together establish state identity from two
different directions and by means of a grid of difference: security
divides every state ontologically from every other form of political
organization by presenting everything that is prior in time or external
in space as a threat, while reputation rests on reciprocal recognition
from the other in order for the state to become a site of sameness and
hence a subject to be rendered secure. Before security and reputation
can be understood as objectives of foreign policy, they help constitute
the agent by denning what is foreign to it.
The end product of the analysis of interest is the maxime. The interest
of each state or prince can be broken down into components and
compared with those of other states and princes, and the detected
qualitative and quantitative differences can then be reduced to a set of
simple principles or maximes. Precisely as the determinants of interest
165
were Janus-faced, the maxime has both a representative and a norma-

tive content. Each specific maxime should be interpreted dualistically;
historically, it condenses the 'objective' forces and motives behind the
present political status and current foreign policy of a state, and,
simultaneously, by virtue of its 'truth', each maxime contains more or
less precise guidelines for the future policy of each state or prince,
provided that the state or prince shares the most basic interests in
power, wealth, security and reputation, whose validity the historical
analysis makes transparent by connecting them to present identity.
Maximes can be derived from a comparison of states and their
differences in two different ways, each of which corresponds to one of
the two main theoretical options available to the analysis of interest.
For want of better terms, I shall borrow the two terms systemic and
methodical analysis from the contemporary discourse on natural
history, which obeys analogous rules of formation and validation of
statements.114
The first option can be labelled the systemic option. The analysis of
interest here departs from a predetermined set of variables, which can
be subjected to an ever more fine-grained analysis by decomposing
them and measuring them on an ordinal scale. Following the systemic
option, one begins by selecting a finite or relatively small number of
characteristics which together define the domain of knowledge, the
table or taxonomy of sovereign states. Variations in these character-
istics can be studied in any particular state and then compared with
those of other states. To Rohan, the actual interest of states depends on
six such elements. However intersected in practice, the military
strength of a state, its geopolitical situation, the cohesive force of its
religion, its capacity to entertain intelligence with other states, the
nature of its negotiations with them and its reputation in the family of
states are the crucial variables which permit us to compare it with
other states and represent their reciprocal interests by cross-tabulation
in order to determine whether they are opposed or coincide.115 Hence,
in his Interest of 1638, the interests of France and Spain are found to be
opposed, and their maximes are mirror-images of one another: not
surprisingly, France is everything that Spain is not; already by means
of classification, it becomes possible to make the enemy look inferior,
not only morally, but also logically.
To Pufendorf, the interest of any particular state at any particular
moment in time can be determined with increased certainty by divi-
ding interest into perpetual and temporary. As Pufendorf has it, the
166
perpetual interest of a state is dependent on the more or less invariable

facts of its geographical situation, the size of its natural resources and
the natural inclinations of its people, while its temporary interest can
best be judged in terms of its power relationships to its neighbours, 'for
as those vary, the Interest must also vary'.116 This more abstract taxo-
nomy of interest permits Pufendorf to cover a larger span of time in his
Introduction (1682), so that the political history of states from Assyria up
to contemporary affairs can be understood as a continuous clash of
interests, and the formation and decay of states can also be accounted
for in the same terms. The once legendary or mythological history of
ancient states is reinscribed into a calculus of opposing interests and
forces:
It is evident out of History; that the deeper you search into the most
ancient Times, the more separate small Commonwealths you will
meet withal; from the coalition of which great Empires in process of
time did arise, some uniting by common consent, and others subdued
by the more powerful.117
Now the systemic option is by its very nature arbitrary. The number
of possible systems of comparison are theoretically infinite, however
actually circumscribed by practical considerations arising out of the
Thirty Years War: each possible system must simply ignore those
differences between states that fall outside the range of comparison
initially specified by the variables selected as characteristics in the
analytical system, but it does not exclude the possibility that the
specified dimensions will prove exhaustive of the field of knowledge,
since within the range delimited by the variables, ever more fine-
grained differences can be found in the class of empirical states.
Furthermore, the arbitrary basis of the systemic option not only makes
it possible to imagine many different and perhaps conflicting analy-
tical systems, but permits each of them to constitute its own field,
depending on the number of elements and variables it explicitly
includes or implicitly excludes. The greater the number of variables or
elements, the more intricate and complex the differences of interest
between states will appear to be, and conversely: the fewer the vari-
ables, the more straightforward and simple the differences.
The second option might be labelled methodical analysis, and
employs a reverse logic. Instead of starting with a predetermined and
limited set of variables and elements, comparison here begins with a
definition of a concrete field of investigation in time and space. Since
'the general affairs of Christianity are of such large extension' that a
167
full and accurate description of them would 'fill entire volumes', it is
more 'useful and convenient' to stick to recent and important events,
and on the basis of them pass judgements on the future.118 That is,
instead of determining the interest of individual states by measuring
their relative differences according to a fixed set of variables, one
begins with their relations and interactions, describes the formative
events and main reversals of power within the field of investigation as
a whole, and distils from them a series of maximes pertaining to the
past, present and future conduct of each state the other; the actual
condition and interests of a state are the outcome of a linear succession
of political events and interactions, rather than conversely.
In the methodical analysis of interests, the elements of interest are
not determined in advance; they are deduced stage by stage from the
juxtaposition of individual states and the political events responsible
for their present condition. For example, Ardier begins, albeit from an
explicitly French perspective, with a detailed examination of diplo-
matic history up to a certain point in time, in this case April 1633, and
derives the maximes to be observed from the prior interplay of inter-
ests. The maximes appear here as resultants of opposed 'mechanical'
forces, either to be kept in equilibrium or reversed. For example, since
'the interest of France is in every respect opposed to that of Spain', it
follows that the former ought to desire peace between the Italian
princes, since if united they can act as a counterpoise to Spanish power
while safeguarding their own liberty and sovereignty.119 Moreover,
the French cannot hope for any restraint or moderation on behalf of
the Spanish crown, since it will live forever in envy of the French, and
continue to pose obstacles to French designs.120 In Ardier, as in Rohan,
the political ontology itself serves to define and stigmatize the enemy,
by making his interest and his maximes the inferior term in the oppo-
sition: 'France' is positivity to the negativity of 'Spain'.
In another version of methodical analysis, Courtilz begins with a
comparison of the contemporary condition of European politics with
what purportedly existed before on the European scene: a set of
communitarian values, possibly - or hopefully - to be restored in the
shape of a monarchic universelle. In this first step, qualitative difference
is identified across time rather than as variations across individual
political entities. To Courtilz, the recurrent feature of European politics
is the opposition between France and the Habsburgs, a bipolar tension
which structures the relationships between all the lesser powers and
serves to explain the existing pattern of alliances in terms of what we
168
today would call jumping on the bandwagon. According to Courtilz,

the qualitative difference consists in a change of maxime in European
politics as a whole: interest had taken precedence over religious
affinity or enmity and dynastic pretensions as the motivating force in
politics.121 The 'new' art of politics simply consists in 'knowing how to
conduct one's own affairs, while hindering others from conducting
theirs'.122 For individual states 'there does not exist a single maxime that
may not have to be reversed in accordance with the circumstances.
Everything must yield to the interest of the state.'123 If interest is the
overarching principle of interstate policy, no elements of interest can
be determined in advance/but must be derived through a methodical
comparison of states in their concrete political circumstances. In this
sense, Courtilz explicitly opposes himself to the systemic option:
if everything varies, every element or characteristic variable in an
analytical system will inevitably lose explanatory power by even the
slightest reversal of power. Instead, Courtilz pursues an alternative
analytical path: he first arranges states on an ordinal scale according to
the amount of power they can be said to possess after due empirical
investigation of their relative position, that 'in which God has placed
them'.124 Starting with the great powers and then continuing down-
wards to the tiniest principality, relationships of equality and
inequality can gradually be detected and cross-tabulated. He then
describes each state and its web of relationships with other states in
their entirety - from great powers to small ones - and determines
inductively the values of all variables crucial to their specific interest
towards one another. In every instance of methodical analysis, the
description of a state and its foreign policy aspires to be total and
exhaustive, but with the essential difference that nothing that has been
said about the first state will be repeated in the description of the
second, and so forth. Thus, in the end, we are left with a series of thick
empirical descriptions which are mutually exclusive and together
exhaustive of what European politics is at the initially specified
moment in time. Furthermore, these descriptions are to an extent
relative to the initial ranking: if the distribution of power changes, the
basic interest of states must also change. This explains why Courtilz
insists on a divinely ordained ranking between states as the guarantee
of analytical stability.
Despite the differences between the systemic and methodical forms
of analysis, they are both conditioned by the same basic epistemic
principles of the mathesis. They both rely on a comparison of complex
269
empirical individuals, whose individuality has been constituted in

advance by the concept of sovereignty. If sovereignty defines the
general identity of the state from the inside, the analysis of interest
constitutes the identity of specific states from an outside by means of a
grid of difference in power, wealth, security and reputation. In the
analysis of interest, knowledge of states can be acquired from a con-
tinuous tabulation of their differences in terms of resources and inter-
ests; what is left out, however, is the consideration of the origin and
form of states as autonomous variables. If origin and form are analy-
sed, they are analysed as determinants of the crucial variables. The
state is describable, and the totality of states orderable: the practical
result is a political taxonomy in which the reciprocal relations between
states can be represented, and possible lines of action can be evaluated
with respect to their expected utility. This epistemic arrangement has
three important consequences.
First, and as a consequence of its indebtedness to the mathesis, the
analysis of interest subordinates the question of being to the question
of knowing. Only that which can be tabulated or arranged within a
taxonomy of interest does exist, and what is outside the tabulated
order is marked by non-being. If Descartes compared objects inaccessi-
ble to reason and representation with distant countries like China and
Mexico,125 the analysis of interest confines itself to the European
context, and passes few remarks on what lies outside it. This is hardly
surprising; what is surprising, however, is the fact that the impact of
colonial trade with the New World on the distribution of power
between European states most often is presented as something exoge-
nous. In chapter 6, we shall find the New World rediscovered by the
Enlightenment; to the classical analysts of interest, it hardly exists.
Second, interest, being crucial to the outward identity of each state,
is also that which links together the past, present and future of a given
state as a continuous series of political events. This continuity is
established by the duality of the maxime, a duality which connects past
events with future possibilities. The maxime not only contains and
condenses the lessons of history; it also furnishes each state with a
specific past that can be used as a clue to both present identity and its
future fate within the table. Consequently, one is permitted to speak of
the policy of 'France' during the Italian Wars and the policy of 'France'
during the Valteline not only in the same terms (that is, in terms of
interest) but also, and more importantly, as if the acting subject in fact
always remains and will remain identical with itself on the stage of politics.
170
That is, the basic identity of a state is not affected by its military and
economic fate, nor by contractions or extensions of its territory, nor by
revolutionary upheaval in its internal structure. When seen from the
outside, France is constituted as 'France' long before this identity is
ideologized, and this by means logically different to the organic meta-
phors of nineteenth-century nationalism. The impact of this discursive
practice cannot be overemphasized: it works to make the state, whose
history is linked to that of the concept of time, immune to the corrosive
threat posed by contingency and particularity. As we shall see below, it
is this discursive move that makes it possible to speak of a tabulated
order separate from and independent of the concrete historical being
of states, an order which we today still presuppose and draw on when
we use the name of a state in the grammatical position of subject in a
phrase.
Third, what is sometimes labelled the great power perspective has
its point of emergence in the analysis of interest. To some extent, this
perspective reflects the considerations of a bipolar age, but more
importantly, it is immanent in the analysis itself, since the ordinal
measurement of the distribution of power and wealth is that which
defines an entire order as classifiable, and without which there would
be no field of empirical entities to investigate.
Truth and interest
The discourse on interest constitutes a domain of knowledge and
imposes order and regularity upon it in order to render it analysable;
but what makes it function as true? We have seen how it draws on the
fundamental rules of classical science: it proceeds by orderly enumer-
ation and the representation of differences between individual objects,
whose empirical reality and identity it thereby establishes; it renders
them comparable within a taxonomy; it renders their interests calcula-
ble by measuring their differences on an ordinal scale.
Still, the analysis of interest, however indebted to the classical
epistemic figure, is an autonomous discourse, with its own rules for the
formation of valid statements. So when Courtilz solemnly tells us that
the reason why he has undertaken to write his Nouveaux Interets is that
he 'loves very much to tell the truth',126 we must ask specific questions
of this love that excites Courtilz' imagination: how is this truth pos-
sible, how is it safeguarded, and how does it perform its validating
function?
Like every claim to truth, a truth based on accurate representation of
171
political reality requires a privileged point from which it can be estab-

lished and justified. In the analysis of interest, this problem becomes all
the more puzzling in face of the duality of the concept of interest. On
the one hand, the analysis is supposed to represent as accurately as
possible various state interests, on the other, it is undertaken in order
to prescribe proper lines of action for interested parties. Now, is its
representative accuracy warranted by its prescriptive impact, or, is it
perhaps the other way around? Is it true because princes and states act
as if it were true, or ought states to act in accordance with certain
maximes because they are true?
To us, this question is analogous to the question of the validity of a
grammatical system, and presents us with a dilemma of undecidability
between description and prescription. To the classical authors,
however, this dilemma was not present; as I shall attempt to show in
this section, there is no such divide between knowledge and ideology
in the classical period; the term ideologic, when it eventually was
coined by Destutt de Tracy in the late eighteenth century, referred to
the systematic analysis of representations and their formation in the
mind, and was thus inseparable from an analysis of the conditions of
human knowledge.127 As I shall argue below, the validation of the
analysis of interest is carried out through a duplication of the represen-
tation and the represented.
Let us begin with the overt claims to truth made by the analysts of
interest, and the epistemic warrants they invoke. The first warrant is a
Baconian consideration of practical utility, according to which one
should be accustomed to 'judge of the proportion or value of things as
they conduce and are material to our particular ends'.128 Already in the
anonymous Discours of 1624, we are told that 'the best advice one can
give in matters of State ... is based on special knowledge of the State
itself'.129 To Rohan, for a prince to enlarge or preserve his state, he is
not in need of any higher viewpoint; it suffices for him to consider the
interests of other princes in the present.130 To Pufendorf, who held the
study of history to be 'pleasant and useful for those who design for
Employment in the State', knowledge of interest is of paramount
importance to the security of the state.131 To Ardier, this knowledge
permits one to judge the future, and thus contribute to the good of the
state.132 That is, one's successful participation in the game of politics
requires accurate representations of the interests of other states, and
the accuracy of the representation is, in the final analysis, determined
by the success it achieves: the analysis of interest is valid because it
172
furthers the interest it analyses. It is useful because of its truth, and

true because of its usefulness.
Second, and sometimes linked to this pragmatic self-justification of
the analysis, is a claim to impartiality or objectivity. For example,
Courtilz tirelessly assures his readers that he is on nobody's payroll,
and therefore, he seems to believe, automatically reliable.133 Although
on the Swedish payroll, Pufendorf goes further in his De rebus sueciis:
In this work we have (as is the principal duty of the historian) tried
very conscientiously to ensure reliability; we have taken the decisions
from the authentic documents and interpolated nothing, and our
portrayal of events is based on the reports of army commanders and
envoys. In general we have not troubled to present the decisions and
actions of the enemy party, except insofar as these entered thefieldof
view (as it were) of our own side. We considered it rash to try and
divine or interpret their secrets by conjecture. Altogether, we have
given the reader freedom of judgement, without introducing our
own opinion unnecessarily. Our intention was to relate the deeds of
others, and not to pass judgement on them ... [H]istory does not
hesitate on the basis of itsrightto transmit what it has found for the
consideration of posterity ... it is required of the historian that he
should say nothing false and should not refrain from saying anything
true.134
To live in the world as if one stood outside it: the analysis of interest
is logically interwoven with the possibility of a detached spectator, and
the source criticism it makes possible. The accuracy of historical repre-
sentation hinges on the presence of an elevated intersubjectivity, a
vantage point dependent on the prior alienation of the author from
the concerns of any particular state, and situated over and above the
play and counterplay of actual state interests which structure and
animate the raw historical material into a narrative of events: its
truthful character resides in the disinterested detachment of the spec-
tator, and this disinterested detachment in turn requires an amount of
self-estrangement of the author from the material under consider-
ation. Says Courtilz: 'we were born in a state, which is not subject to
either of the two crowns [France and Spain], but our profession is that
of telling the truth'.135 At the same time, however, this viewpoint
necessitates a close identification with the state as an abstract entity,
denned in terms of its sovereignty. Hence, the position of the spectator
in relation to state interests in their external manifestation is here
analogous to that of the king with regard to their internal manifes-
tation in a particular state.
173
But how, one may ask, is the truth of this disinterestedness in turn to
be represented? Is an historical account true because it is disinterested,
or is it disinterested because it is true? As such, disinterestedness is a
special case of interest: denned either intersubjectively as the point
where all other interests happen to coincide and become neutralized,
or, in terms of a wholly sovereign position situated above the politics
of interest proper, the very term 'disinterestedness' takes on meaning
only in relation to 'interest', and then as the inferior term in such an
opposition. We cannot make sense of disinterestedness without -
however tacitly - invoking the notion of interestedness. In either of
the above cases, this justification seems as elliptical as the one centred
around utility: disinterestedness is established on the basis of interests
that makes it true, and the existence of these interests can only be
securely determined from this disinterested point of view.
Turning now to the internal mechanisms of validation, this close
relationship between interest, truth and utility in the passages
explicitly devoted to justification is also duplicated inside the analysis
of interest itself; in fact, it is this duplication that permits the analysis of
interest to function as a regime of truth in interstate politics. As we
may recall from above, the idea of representation has to be duplicated
in every specific act of representation in order for the latter to impose
an unbroken relation between words, things and ideas, such that the
signs that replace and help analyse representations must also be
representations themselves. In the same fashion, the analysis of inter-
est must, so to speak, remain open to and indeed execute an analysis of
itself in its own terms. It must work back on itself, not reflexively, but
constitutively: the analysis represents a political reality, but it is also
represented in this political reality; it represents a politics animated by
the notion of interest, and thus represents itself as represented in
political reality.
As a first step in this duplication, the analysis of interest is rendered
unfalsifiable. The prince, says Rohan, may well be deceived by corrupt
counsel, but interest itself will never fail or betray him. According to
whether it is well or badly understood, it preserves or ruins states.136
Part of this statement was later absorbed in political discourse and
turned into the self-evident maxim that 'interest will not lie'.137
According to Herle, 'if a man state his own interest aright, and keep
close to it, it will not lie to him or deceive him'.138 To us, these
statements border on the trivial and the tautological: one's interest
cannot lead one astray, since a failure would merely point to the fact
174
that the course of action undertaken had actually not been in one's
true interest.
The truth of interest is therefore a necessary truth: if a line of action
fails, this is simply because the agent misperceived his true interest,
and let himself be deceived by an imaginary or subjective interest, a
deviation from rationality resulting from the weakness of his own
judgement. Now, if every instance of political success automatically is
a corroborating instance of the analysis of interest, we must ask how
the analysis accounts for political failure.
Having established the true and objective interest of every Christian
prince, Rohan goes on to account for the sources of failure, and finds
passion and superstition to be responsible for most cases of misper-
ception:
[I]n matters of state one must not let oneself be guided by disorderly
appetites, which make us often undertake tasks beyond our strength;
nor by violent passions, which agitate us in various ways as soon as
they possess us ... but by our own interest guided by reason alone,
which must be the rule of our actions.139
In his Troisieme Discours, this idea structures the explanation of the
negotiations between Paul V and Venice in 1605: the reason why the
former fails and the latter succeeds is that Venice 'followed exactly that
which was their interest', while the Pope was driven by 'ill-considered
zeal' or 'inflamed by the desire to leave his mark on posterity' or
simply carried away by the violence of his passions.140 To Courtilz, to
act in accordance with one's interest is to 'use polities', but whenever
one fails to do this, one acts 'against politics'.141
Pufendorf, asking 'how it oftentimes happens that great Errors are
committed in this kind against the Interest of the State', goes on to
explain that
those who have the Supreme Administration of Affairs, are
oftentimes not sufficiently acquainted with the Interest both of their
own State and of their Neighbours; and yet being fond of their own
Sentiments, will not follow the advice of understanding and faithful
Ministers. Sometimes they are misguided by their Passions... or else
are led away by a private Interest ... or else, being divided into
Factions, they are more concerned to ruin their Rivals, than to follow
the Dictates of Reason.142
Hence, a political failure can never falsify the analytical truth of
interest; instead, every such failure merely indicates that the agent
simultaneously has failed in his analysis, and ought to be persuaded as
175
to where his 'true' interest lies by the alternative mode of explanation

introduced by the analysis to account for failure. Rhetorically, and
much like in the logic of Descartes' Fourth Mediation (1641), the verisi-
militude of the analysis is increased by the possibility of error and
misperception of interest. In the analysis of interest, political 'success'
is represented as the normal case, and it does not have to be explained
other than tautologically; the fact of political success indicates that a
given line of action was in accordance with the true interest of an
agent. What has to be explained, and explained in other terms than
success, is the failure to attain political rationality in its seventeenth-
century form, that is, the failure to perceive, internalize and act upon
the concepts of the analysis itself. Hence, the agent must be persuaded
by his 'failure' to grasp the truth of the analysis, a truth which, as we
noted above, also was a truth about himself and his identity as an actor
on the political stage. Every political 'failure' is thus turned into a
potential rhetorical success of the analysis, since interest always is
'objective' before it is 'subjective' in the analysis: it must exist in order
to be perceived and known, and perceived and known in order to
make any talk of 'misperception' possible. Misperception, as all error,
is not pure negation, but rather a lack of knowledge that ideally should
be present, clear and distinct to the consciousness of the agent.143 That
is, the 'misperception' of interest and the disasters it brings with it
helps the 'accurate perception' of interest to constitute itself as the
normal and therefore rational form of self-understanding.
As a second step in the duplication, the concept of interest is
rendered indubitable. As noted earlier, what is other to interest is
passion. The stigma attached to passion is not primarily a result of this
conceptual opposition in the analysis itself, but to a larger extent the
outcome of a clash between different political knowledges. It is passion
which continually threatens representation by subverting - or perver-
ting - the binary relationship between words and things.
If the self-understanding of agents were altogether passionate, pas-
sionate agency would constitute the normal and therefore rational
form of behaviour. But as such, passionate understanding would not
be susceptible to the kind of rationalistic persuasion that the analysis of
interest insists on; it makes little or no sense to speak of 'true' or 'false'
passion, nor is it meaningful to divide passions into 'objective' and
'subjective' ones. In an age when the unconscious had not yet been
invented, everyone is correctly supposed to have privileged access to
his passions. By the same token, one may well deliberate upon or to an
176
extent choose one's interest, whereas passion is not susceptible to

self-conscious deliberation or choice.
In an age such as the Renaissance, which had no logical space for a
separation of matter and consciousness, and whose political self-
description was centred around passion as its main motivating force,
the rhetoric of interest is not yet a strategic possibility in discourse: the
concept of interest - along with the differentiation between objectivity
and subjectivity which is integral to it - is wholly simultaneous to the
Cartesian differentiation of the world into an immaterial and perceiv-
ing substance and an extended and material substance whose being
known is dependent on being perceived.144 In order to combat passion
at the level of epistemic justification, the analysis operates analogously
to and in close interdependence with the systematic reversal of Renais-
sance scepticism carried out by Descartes,145 and leads to a political
counterpart of the cogito. It starts out by doubting the possibility of
political knowledge: it is not reducible to principles, and rests merely
on inherited opinion, which is distorted by passion, and therefore
inherently fallible. What cannot be doubted, however, is interest: it
cannot lie or deceive. To doubt the truth of interest is in essence
to doubt the existence of oneself as a political actor. What must
incessantly be doubted, however, is one's perception of particular
objective interests, since in 'many cases the grasp of the senses is very
obscure and confused'.146 Thus, the indubitability of interest is not the
result of a prior differentiation between 'subjective' and 'objective'
interest that makes us believe that we cannot doubt the reality of the
latter; rather it is by rendering a political subjectivity defined in terms
of interest indubitable to itself that this differentiation is carried out.
What can be doubted is not the fact that one is interested, only one's
ability to perceive one's interests, whose objectivity consists precisely
in being partly veiled from the interested subject, and transparent only
from a semi-divine and sovereign vantage point - a vantage point so
indispensable and dear to the Classical Age: I am interested, therefore
lam.
To recapitulate this double gesture of validation through dupli-
cation: first, by rendering itself immune to falsification by presenting
its core concept and its inferential connections with other concepts as a
necessary truth, it readily absorbs and explains any contrary evidence
as a deviation from the norm of a political rationality. This explanatory
stratagem legitimizes an act of persuasion, whose force flows from the
structure of and the negative terms employed in the mode of explana-
177
tion reserved for political failures. Through this stratagem, it repre-

sents the politics of states as if the analysis of interest itself is the
knowledgeable practice of their political intercourse. The analysis of
interest analyses the interplay of interests as if they were the outcome
of a finite series of similar analyses undertaken by the agents them-
selves, and criticizes these analyses on the basis of their degree of
deviation from the final analysis, which, after having been superim-
posed upon the hypothesized calculations of the agents also explains
the relative success or failure of their strategies. Second, by rendering
the concept of interest indubitable, the analysis displaces or absorbs all
vantage points but its own, and renders all other political knowledges
imperfect. The analysis of interest, and the domain of being it singles
out as objective, is wholly simultaneous with the genesis of Cartesian
consciousness as a mirror of representations.
Once grasped, the concept of interest offers no escape: it gives rise
to an infinite series of possible identifications between the position of
the spectator and that of an agent in a given analysis. In the dedicatory
letter accompanying II Principe, Machiavelli compared his vantage
point with that of a cartographer, mirroring the conditions of rulership
from a point below it.147 The analysis of interest reverses this perspec-
tive, since its position of detachment coincides with the position of the
ruler, contemplating the course of political affairs from above. Perhaps
it is this duplication that makes the study of history 'pleasant', and not
only 'useful' to the classic. To live in the world as if one stood outside it
is to live in it as if one were king: both the disinterested analyst and the
interested prince are together placed in the epistemic position of
subjects, who stand in a determined strategic relation to the object -
the state and its interests. Through duplication, 'we seem to participate
in His knowledge as well as in His authority'.
The duality of interest, which joins together representative accuracy
with prescriptive force in an undecidable relation, is a corollary to this
duplication. The analysis of interest is a science of order: it elaborates a
set of cognitive rules for the perception of order and its measurement,
derived from the analysis of representation. Once order is perceived, it
is naturalized and turned into an object of representation inside
representation: it becomes a living reality which can be represented
more or less accurately, and which can be acted upon strategically
more or less successfully by its inhabitants as long as they remain
subjects to it. Thus, description is not parasitic on prescription, or
conversely. Nor is ideology prior to knowledge, nor knowledge prior
178
to ideology: they are simultaneous and impossible to separate analy-

tically in classical knowledge.
The consequences of interest

Thus far, I have described the analysis of interests as an autonomous
discursive practice, and analysed it in terms of its conditions of possi-
bility and its relationship to classical knowledge. In this section, I shall
describe the analysis of interest in terms of its relationship to practice.
How does the understanding of political reality it encourages con-
dition the self-descriptions of agents, and how does it inform and
organize the practices in which they engage?
Power and predictability
As we have noted, there is a strong tendency to reify the concept of
interest in seventeenth-century moral and political discourse. This
tendency results partly - at the macro-level of discourse - from the
mutually reinforcing relationship between its centrality and its
ambiguity, but is also the outcome - at the micro-level - of its dupli-
cation inside the analysis of interest. Thus, the proverb that 'interest
rules the world'148 must for a moment be taken at face value; but how
does this world appear to those trying to intervene creatively in it?
First, since the world as one perceives it is the world in which one
acts, there is an ordered separation between states. What is inside and
outside a specific state can be determined with at least empirical
certainty, and the divide will appear as natural. The analytical border
between states is coexistent with the recognition of their factual and
territorial separation. It is not a coincidence that Richelieu in his
Testament devotes an entire section to the necessity of a well fortified
border;149 semiotically, we can read the theory of sovereignty and the
analysis of interests as two mutually reinforcing textual strategies to
'fortify the border' of the state from rhetorical intrusions. The identity
of a specific state is assured from two points simultaneously, one
universal, the other particular.
The distinction between domestic and foreign policy, which was so
opaque and so problematic to the Renaissance and the early classical
scholars,150 can now be drawn analytically as a distinction between the
state and what is outside it; the interplay of interests between states
has its counterpart in the interplay of interests on the domestic arena,
and the paramount strategic problem of absolutism is to subordinate
279
the latter to the former by reduction. It is this analytical divide that

permits the discourse on state consolidation to gain impetus: both
Rohan and Courtilz find war to be a highly recommendable activity,
not only for reasons of immediate external gain, but also to assure the
inner stability, order and cohesion needed for further adventures on
the outside.151 It is at this point in political discourse that foreign policy
takes on primacy over domestic policy, not as a result of an overt
ideological move, but at the very moment of their analytical separation
into spheres of action, different in complexity but both governed by
interest. The domestic sphere is constituted as a 'part' in a bigger
'whole'; a part whose identity must be carefully monitored and safe-
guarded from outside intrusions. Without a 'foreign policy' there can
be nothing domestic, since the former has as its task precisely to define
the latter by domesticating what initially was foreign to it, buried in the
depths of its violent prehistory and inserted as a state of nature in its
contractual justification. That is, foreign policy is to classical analysis of
interest and sovereignty as much a policy for dealing with a traumatic
past, as it is a policy for dealing with a spatial outside.
Second, and by the same token, there is an ordered relationship
between states. Not only are states constituted as separate by a grid of
identity and difference in the analysis: they can also be ranked accord-
ing to the amount of wealth and power they possess. They are sover-
eign, but not yet equal even in a formal sense:152 securatio and reputatio
are still predicates of a problematic statehood, which makes it difficult,
not to say impossible, to articulate and uphold a norm of sovereign
equality between them. The world of states does not yet form a system
in the modern sense of something that is more than the sum of its
parts, but rather a continuous table of states which permits calculations
of power and interest.
Furthermore, a world ruled by interest is at once more predictable
and transparent to its inhabitants than a world ruled by passions,
which, according to Spinoza, make man 'changeable and incon-
stant'.153 Passions cannot be measured or ordered on a continuous
scale, their object cannot be safely determined, but vary according to
circumstance. Passion provides no lasting basis for the resolution of
conflicts, or for stable cooperation. Whereas, in Herle's formulation, 'if
you can apprehend wherein a man's interest to any particular game on
foot doth consist, you may surely know, if the man be prudent,
whereabout to have him, that is, how to judge of his design'.154
Since the tabulation of states makes it possible to calculate interest,
180
the calculation of interest both presupposes and reinforces the struc-
ture of the table. If interest both organizes tabulation and agency
simultaneously, the order of states takes on predictability. Foreign
policy is less prey to the whims of Fortuna: the motives of the other
become more transparent, since he is recognized not as a stranger, but
as an enemy; as an interested political subject, and therefore, a mirror-
image of oneself. Foreign policy can become a dialogue with what is
much like oneself, however adversarial, instead of a one-way battle-
cry addressed to a stranger - a dialogue in which the desire for
knowledge and the struggle for power and security are intertwined.
As a consequence of calculability balance of power emerges as a
possibility, both as a policy designed to prevent war through the active
balancing of forces, and, more importantly, from 1713 onwards, a
principle of ordered opposition subscribed to by states acknowledged
as sovereign entities in the table.155 Even if they do not use the concept
itself, both Rohan and Courtilz develop a logic of balance-of-power
politics. To Rohan, it is evident that other countries tend to gravitate
towards either Spain or France, such that alliances form more or less
spontaneously from their self-interested activity, since it is necessary
to 'oppose force with force'.156 Half a century later, Courtilz is able to
develop a sophisticated explanation of the formation of alliances in
balance-of-power terms, while effectively ruling out all religious and
dynastic motivations from the account.157 Even in the anonymous tract
of 1666, which mainly consists in a compilation of dynastic pretensions
and religious differences, alliances are seen to be forged from and
motivated by asymmetrical power relationships.158
Diplomacy and discipline
The drive towards predictability and calculability is reflected in con-
temporary manuals of diplomatic practice. Diplomacy, in its seven-
teenth- and early eighteenth-century form, derives its main concepts
from the analysis of interest. And conversely: the enormous amount of
empirical information about the conditions other states needed to
analyse interest was obtained chiefly by diplomats. Risking oversimpli-
fication, one could say that classical diplomacy is a practical articu-
lation of the analysis of interest, while the analysis of interest is a
theoretical articulation of diplomatic practice.
In the first page of his L'Ambassadeur et ses fonctions (1681), Wicque-
fort describes diplomatic activity as 'a science of mathematical prin-
ciples, or founded on demonstrative reason, on which one can make
181
certain and infallible rules'.159 Even if this was to remain a vain hope -
as Wicquefort himself was to confess later160 - since practice never can
be reduced to rules of mathematical certainty, this statement reflects
the beginning of a fusion of classical knowledge and rituals of power
into a new political technology. Since the analysis of interest had put
an end to exemplary history as the privileged form of political
memory, this reorientation is parallelled and reinforced by a corres-
ponding bureaucratic development. By the end of the seventeenth
century, the first steps towards creating a depot des affaires etrangeres in
France were taken. Diplomatic documents were placed under royal
seal, collected, centralized and classified according to year and
country;161 by 1715, the depository contained some 2000 volumes of
documents generated by regular diplomacy.162 The entire project was
motivated by the desire to cope with the uncertainties, contingencies
and eventualities of interstate relations and to predict the behaviour of
France's enemies in an age so 'attentive to interest'.163 Soon after, a
Projet d'Estudes for the education of diplomats was initiated, with its
curriculum firmly centred on the countrywise extraction and systema-
tization of empirical knowledge of past and present diplomatic nego-
tiations from the collected documents, making tables of contents and
summaries revealing 'the form of government and the interests of the
court in question'.164
At the same time as the diplomatic manuals are stripped of exempla
they become less occupied with legal questions and more with the
problems of interest, which also govern their sampling and reconstruc-
tion of historical precedents. As Keens-Soper would have it, diplomatic
literature was released from the dead hand of an alien past.165 Accord-
ing to Wicquefort, the main task of the ambassador is to 'preserve the
reputation as well as the interest of his prince'.166 One of his foremost
duties in this regard is to gather information with 'diligence and
exactitude' about the interest of the particular state to which he has
been sent as an envoy, and about the sizes of its forces and revenues,
its form of government and the pretensions, personal inclinations and
particular passions of its sovereign.167
The ideal ambassador is an 'honourable spy': he has before him the
task of penetrating the secrets of other states,168 but his task is circums-
cribed by the unwritten rules distilled from past and present diplo-
matic practice. He must not lie or be dishonest in order not to risk his
reputation for trustworthiness, which is an essential asset in the diplo-
matic game.169 He must show moderation and prudence on every
182
occasion, so that he does not betray the designs of his sovereign.170
Reports and treatises must be made in a lucid language, untainted by
passion, in order to avoid any misunderstanding on points of fact or
intentions.171 The community of diplomats (and ultimately also that of
states) is not depicted as a society where interest is pitted against
interest in unresolvable oppositions. Rather, it is a disciplined society,
at once transparent and predictable to its inhabitants, however held
together and governed by a consciousness of political necessity:
The necessity of Embassies establishes the security of Ambassadors by
the universal consent of all nations on earth; and it is this general
consent that creates what is called the Law of Nations. It occupies a
place between Natural Law and Civil Law, and is all the more
considerable than the last, since it neither can be changed nor altered
with less than the same unanimous consent of all peoples. There is no
sovereign who can authorize himself to explain the laws of which this
Right is composed, and there is no judge who can extend his jurisdic-
tion over those persons whom this Right protects; because he would
thereby upset a commerce, whose freedom is founded on an indis-
pensable necessity, and he would thereby take away from mankind
the means of maintaining society, which could not exist without this
principle, which is more than mathematic.172
It must be borne in mind that all the States of which Europe is

composed, have necessary ties and commercial relations with each
other, which makes it possible to regard them as members of one and
the same Commonwealth, and [that] there can hardly occur a con-
siderable change in one of them, which is not capable of disturbing
the calm of all the others.173
This is not the world of either Hobbes or Grotius, even if the

influence of both is discernible. Much labour has been devoted to the
elaboration and analysis of distinct 'Hobbesian' and 'Grotian' tradi-
tions in international politics, but it might be argued that these tradi-
tions have more to do with our present than with the seventeenth
century, a fact that becomes more evident when the scholar fails to see
any explicit continuity between what Hobbes or Grotius in fact said,
and what their self-styled followers in the twentieth century say.174
Whereas Hobbes says that the 'Law of Nations, and the Law of
Nature, is the same thing', and that the sovereign therefore was
granted full outward autonomy by the latter,175 Grotius held that
sovereign authority was restricted precisely by the two of them taken
together, since 'observance of these is binding upon all kings, even
183
though they have made no promise'.176 Neither Wicquefort nor Cal-

lieres does rely on the standard assumptions of natural law to justify
their reasoning: there is no need here to invoke human nature and the
social bonds and the timeless norms it is said to necessitate. Instead, an
ordered and knowledgeable practice arises precisely out of the self-
interested activity within the table of states.
Classical diplomatic practice, governed by the notion of interest, is
not a crude zero-sum game, but involves relations of articulability
between sovereignty and knowledge. First, the pursuit of state inter-
ests presupposes communication and exchange, which have to take
place against the backdrop of a shared vocabulary in which nego-
tiations can be conducted and described. This means that the discourse
of interest itself has to be common property among the interlocutors. It
forms the basis for an agreement about what to disagree about, and
more importantly, an agreement about who is disagreeing: sovereign
states. The discourse on interest is as much a discourse on the identity
of the interlocutors and its constitution through reciprocal recognition
of one another as sovereign and interested parties.
Second, the pursuit of state interests exercises, so to speak, a moder-
ating influence upon itself. This may sound paradoxical, but it is not:
the politics of interest presupposes predictability, and predictability is
an antidote to myopia. This helps to explain the sometimes tedious
emphasis placed on honnetete, prudence and moderation as guidelines for
diplomatic conduct. These values are not merely lip-service to aristo-
cratic ideals of the day,177 but are more or less singularly justified in
terms of long-term state interest, and safeguarded by a diplomatic
culture based on reciprocity of action. In classical diplomatic literature,
therefore, it is as if the evolution of cooperation already had taken
place: in a 'commerce, whose freedom is founded on indispensable
necessity', outright lies and deceit do not pay off in the long run, since
they undermine one's reputation, and with it, one's identity as an
actor on the diplomatic stage.
Thus, classical diplomacy should not be understood as something
external to the politics of interest, or as something whose primary
function is one of restraint and moderation. Rather, the function of
diplomacy is best understood as one of enablement and articulation;
without diplomacy, there can be no pursuit of interest, since the
practices of diplomacy constitute the communitarian backdrop against
which identities can be recognized and interests expressed and com-
municated. And conversely, without interest as an organizing prin-
184
ciple of absolutist politics, there would be no need for a diplomacy
focused on its articulation and the gathering of empirical information.
Therefore, order does not come to the politics of interest from
without, from the depths of natural law or from the benevolent
workings of an invisible hand. Rather, order comes from within the
politics of interest; to the extent that the politics of interest is a
systematic and coherent practice, it is organized and reinforced by the
analysis of state interests. The tabulated and taxonomic order of states
does not form an anarchical society, held together by some intangible
organizing principle; it comes from the articulation and duplication of
the principles of the mathesis, and functions as its supplement. Classical
political order, therefore, is as cognitive as it is normative; it is but a
tiny regional manifestation of the general order bestowed upon the
things of the world by knowledge in an age when - in Pope's words -
mad mathesis alone was unconfined. In chapter 6,1 shall describe how
this order withers away, and is replaced by a specifically modern
juxtaposition of the sovereign state and the international system, each
a condition of the other.
185
6 Reorganizing reality:
sovereignty, modernity and the
international
The old philosophy assigned to man an entirely incorrect standpoint

in the world by making him into a machine within the world, a
machine which as such was meant to be wholly dependent on the
world or on external things and circumstances; in this way it made
man into an almost passive part in the world. - Now the Critique of
Pure Reason appeared and allotted man a thoroughly active existence
in the world. Man himself is the primordial creator of all his represen-
tations and concepts and ought to be the unique author of all his
deeds.
Kant, Der Streit der Facultaten
The word international, writes Bentham in his Principles (1789), 'is a

new one ... sufficiently analogous and intelligible'.1 What, we must
ask, are the conditions that make it intelligible as an object of know-
ledge? What makes it possible to speak of something international, and
to subject it to theoretical and empirical inquiry?
It has been said by historians that the modern theory and practice of
the present international system originated somewhere between the
end of the eighteenth century and the Napoleonic wars, with the
waning of absolutism and the rise of the nation-state as the main forces
behind its development.2 This may be true, but for reasons which
themselves are part of my problem; I have already criticized the
ambition to fix chronological and geographical limits upon what is
fluid and constituted by its absence, and argued for a genealogical
approach. But what about the very discourse of chronological and
geographical limits? Is perhaps the quest for origin simultaneous and
logically connected to the emergence of the international?
My main argument in this chapter is that the international at the
point of its emergence is inseparable from its own essential historicity;
186
Reorganizing reality
history, as we now it, is as much a precondition of the international as

a result of it, since both arise out of a new and distinctively modern
arrangement of identity and difference in knowledge. Arguing this, I
shall venture to find an alternative starting point for political modern-
ity; those who organize their erudition according to textbook labels
will feel tempted to call this starting point either 'romanticism' or
'historicism' or both.3
In the Classical Age, the international was a possibility not yet open
in knowledge. As argued in chapter 5, the tnathesis enabled an analysis
and tabulation of state interest, but this analysis was doomed to remain
profoundly nominalist; the classical state is a space of power and
interest, and can be represented and analysed as such; states, looked
upon from the outside, can be ordered into a continuous table, which
permits comparison and calculations of reciprocal interests. To the
extent that states, in their precarious identity, enter into relationships
with something other than themselves, it is with the reminiscences of
Christian universality and unity, expressed in terms of law.
In the late eighteenth century, this order of states is swept away, and
gradually replaced by an international system, or, if you want, a
society of states.4 The main objective of this chapter is to describe
genealogically the formative moments of this discursive trans-
formation in terms contemporaneous with itself.
Following the general argument of my thesis, I shall contend that
this discontinuity is made possible by a simultaneous epistemic
change, which both conditions the discourse on sovereignty and is
conditioned by it in a mutually productive relationship.
With the advent of modernity, the mathesis is gradually deprived of
its power to organize reality. The general area of knowledge ceases to
be that of fixed identities and differences, and being itself is no longer
uniformly subordinated to the grid of representation. The strict inter-
section between objects and words is broken, or rather, begins to
appear artificial; hence, representation loses its power to provide a
foundation for knowledge, and itself becomes questioned as to its
possibility.5
Instead, the field of empirical entities is populated with organic
structures, connected to each other by analogous relations. Both the
natural and political world take on depth; empirical beings are related
to underlying forces and causes, provided with origins, and posited
and studied on the basis of their historicity. History is no longer
external to the order of objects or to their sequential order within a
187
table, but becomes the very condition of their existence. Language,

from having been a system of representations, takes on reality and
becomes expressive of man's being in time and in culture; it is at once
turned into an object of study and a medium of scientific knowledge.
With the historicization of all being, constructability takes a new and
radical turn. In the Classical Age, representation and language are the
loci of knowledge; to know is to receive and to represent represen-
tations accurately in speech and thought, an act in which the role
allotted to the human mind is the purely passive one of mirroring what
is external to it. In contrast, modernity is marked by epistemic activity;
from Vico and Kant onwards, man emerges as the sovereign creator of
his representations and concepts; in short, of the world he - the modern
subject - inhabits. At the same time, and as the result of the same
epistemic change, man emerges as an object of knowledge, who
speaks, acts and lives according to knowable rules. Thus, to attain
knowledge of man is to attain knowledge of the possibility of know-
ledge, since he is the condition of the latter.
As I intend to show, this reorganization of knowledge has profound
effects upon political discourse.
First, modernity marks the return of analogy into the core of political
knowledge, but now as analogy between relations and not as analogy
between beings, which was the case in the Middle Ages. The modern
state is conceptualized as an organized being made up of internal
relations between its components; it is knowable as a totality of anal-
ogous relations between its elements. Within this profoundly recon-
ceptualized state, sovereignty retains indivisibility as its defining prop-
erty, but indivisible sovereignty now is attributed to a totality of
relations, themselves constituted by the logic of this indivisibility. The
sovereign state is released from the table of interests, and is regarded
as the outcome of a dialectical conflict between underlying forces in
history. Time, perennial enemy of the state, is now its father.
Second, modern knowledge bestows subjectivity upon the state.
The state is no longer a mere object of knowledge, but is conceptua-
lized as being itself able to know and act in analogy with man. The
inner identity of the state is no longer secured by a metaphorical
relationship between personalized sovereignty and an abstract space;
sovereignty, once moved outside representation, can no longer repre-
sent king and state as identical. Sovereignty is depersonalized and
dispersed within the social body and therefore rendered invisible,
whereas the state is constituted as a person in itself; by means of
188
analogy, modern sovereignty focuses on the relation between man

and state; the modern subject and the modern state are linked inside
knowledge, and the concepts of the nation and community are used to
express their unity and cover the problematic character of this unity.
Within the state as well as within knowledge, Man becomes King:
modernity, as I will characterize it in the present chapter, is marked by
the troubled sovereignty of Man.6
Third, and perhaps most important, modern knowledge turns
sovereignty into a principle organizing our political reality as well as
our understanding of it. If classical sovereignty was a principle of
identity, modern sovereignty is, above all, a principle of difference. It is
simultaneously transcendental and empirical.
On the one hand, sovereignty establishes the transcendental con-
ditions of possibility of the modern state as subject, telling us in the
abstract what is a state and what is not, and what a state is and what it
is not. Sovereignty differentiates the state ontologically and ethically
from other forms of political life, and furnishes us simultaneously with
the conditions for knowing the state as such. As a consequence, if what
was other to the state in the Classical Age was what went before it and
constituted its fictitious prehistory - a state of nature - then what is
other to the modern state is what is over and above it: a state of war
between states.
On the other hand, it renders the state susceptible to empirical
knowledge as an object; sovereignty is no longer withdrawn from
knowledge and reflection, but inserted there as its prime target. Sover-
eignty not only establishes the transcendental limits of political know-
ledge, but constitutes its proper objects: the modern state and the
international system do not only emerge as the outcome of tran-
scendental reflection and speculative dialectics. Both the sovereign
state and the international system are established within the field of
empirical beings as logically and historically interdependent, and
opened to historical and empirical investigation according to a finite
set of methods and procedures.
It is from the vantage point of this duality of sovereignty that the
emergence of the international must be seen. In the classical table,
states were ordered in a continuous series according to their interests,
and were - theoretically as well as practically - well able to entertain
relations with one another; but these relations were never themselves
representable within the table. With modernity, this set of relations
becomes an organized reality, a system of relations analogous to,
189
interdependent with and yet qualitatively different from those rela-

tions which together constitute the modern state as a coherent and
functional totality. This wholly simultaneous organization of two ethi-
cally opposed yet ontologically implicating spheres of political being -
the domestic and the international - is both the medium and the
outcome of modern sovereignty.
As was argued in chapter 2, this simultaneous constitution of poli-
tical understanding and political reality by means of unquestionable
division is what makes modern sovereignty a parergon; without this
parergonality of sovereignty, there can be no intelligible talk of the
state or anything international, nor any empirical disciplines devoted
to the analysis of their finitude.
In the present chapter, I shall proceed in three chronologically and
logically overlapping steps. This procedure is based on the funda-
mental assumption that the crisis of the classical order of states and the
rise of the modern international system are both inextricably linked to
the epistemic change which gains impetus towards the end of the
eighteenth century.
First, I shall briefly analyse the criticism directed towards the
Classical order by the Enlightenment. Second, I will trace genealogi-
cally the foundations of this criticism in the largely contemporaneous
epistemic change. Third, I shall attempt to explain the emergence of
the modern state and the international system as conditioned by this
epistemic change.
Criticizing: crisis and revolution

In an important sense, the absolutist state was a paradoxical construct,
since it was at once both cause and effect of its own foundation. To
Hobbes, Spinoza and Pufendorf, the state had its ideal point of origin
in a preordained contract between men. It was of no real importance
whether this origin was a real historical event or merely a hypothesis,
since its 'chronology' resided inside a table. In either case, the contract
ultimately owed its existence to that which was to be explained: the
presence of the sovereign.7
In the classical order, the state and the king were metaphors for one
another, and the analytical separation between domestic and foreign
policy was based upon a fragile identity of interests between the king
and his state.
As a result of its analytical separation from domestic policy, external
290
policy had an instrumental privilege: the table of interstate interests

was of a logically different and higher order than the table of infrastate
interests. Premised upon civil conflict, the classical state transformed
inner conflict of interest to external conflict of interest precisely by
drawing a firm line between them, making all previous feudal and
religious jurisdictions obsolete. The classical state domesticated what
was foreign to it; it assimilated all that was alien to it in its prehistory of
religious and civil war. To the theoreticians of state interests, external
warfare was as much a royal prerogative as an antidote to the fearful
return of internal unrest.
In this section, I shall describe how this order is undermined, how its
fundamental distinctions and concepts are subjected to criticism and
gradually lose their power to order political experience. As we shall
see, this criticism carries over into crisis, and crisis culminates in pleas
for revolution.
If we read some of these critics retrospectively, which seems to be
common practice, we will be inclined to find in their writings the
expression of an internationalism, a set of solutions to problems we -
as moderns - have been accustomed to accept as inherent in the
international system, but whose own formation within discourse is
withdrawn from analysis.8 If, on the contrary, we reverse this retro-
spective reading of texts, and instead question the criticism with
respect to its conditions of possibility, we are bound to discover that
the problem itself is contemporaneous with its solutions, and that the
alleged 'solutions' in fact are prior to the 'problem'. The plea for
republicanism and democracy as antidotes to war, and the reliance on
the spirit of commerce as the vehicle of political progress are the most
notable examples of forces subjected to this kind of retrospective
interpretation.9 To resist this reading, we must start at a rather tech-
nical level, and question the foundations of criticism and crisis.
To begin with, and towards the second half of the eighteenth
century, the concept of interest gradually loses its power to confer
unity upon the state, and the analytical techniques for establishing the
maximes of individual states are modified. The state gradually escapes
from the fixity of the table; its interests take on complexity and depth,
lose their previous immutability and become subject to revolutionary
change, a qualitative change which disrupts the previous order of state
interests. Due to 'extraordinary revolutions', writes Rousset, 'one
cannot find one single maxime in those authors [Rohan and Courtilz]
which could be in use today'.10 In Rousset, the analysis becomes not
191
only excessively complex, but in some cases even impossible in the

eyes of the author: for example, the United Provinces cannot be
devoted a chapter of its own, since according to one of its maximes
matters of religion and government are to be excluded from the
discourse of its inhabitants: hence, its maxime eludes tabulation.11
In Mably's Principes des Negotiations (1758), the revolution in inter-
state relations is produced by colonial trade, and its impact on the
nature and distribution of capabilities between states. Wealth,
acquired through trade rather than from cultivating the soil, radically
alters the zero-sum nature of classical power. As a consequence, state
interests are no longer deducible from the specific individual character
of each state; rather, their maximes are determined solely from their
relation to other states; what matters is whether a state is a puissance
dominante or a puissance rivale. States are no longer situated in a
position in which God has placed them, but displaced into a succession
of altering power relations. Thus, the technique employed in estab-
lishing maximes must be reversed: instead of traversing an uninterrup-
ted sequence of states ordered according to the identity and difference
of their interests, Mably starts out from the fact of analogy: what really
counts is not individual attributes of states, but their role and function
within a larger context.12
A second, and more ideologically potent source of crisis in the
classical order is the fact that the analytical distinction between
external and internal policy - coexistent with a subordination of
morality to politics - is itself questioned at the analytical level. In the
Classical Age, the sovereign power was inaccessible to criticism based
on or targeted at knowledge, since the place of the sovereign was
duplicated inside the latter as its condition of possibility; to draw a firm
line between morals and politics and deny the former any political
impact was itself a moral necessity, as was political sovereignty itself.
The battle of opinion and ideology, together with all signs of the guerre
civile, is relegated to the non-place of civil conscience in the absolutist
order.13
During the Enlightenment, this mutual separation and polarization
of morals and politics, of state and society and of the internal sphere
from the external, was to become a prime target of criticism, a criticism
that silently draws on the conceptual hierarchies it seeks to displace
and subvert, but without ever questioning their existence, or its own
universalist foundation. Beginning with a concealed subjection of
politics to the verdict of a universalist ethic, the particular interests of
192
states are criticized from the vantage point of a general interest of

mankind or of human society, which then spills over into a question-
ing of the analytical and ideological divide between domestic politics
and foreign policy. Starting from a universalist foundation, one either
criticizes the internal structure of states on the basis of their external
effects, or, one criticizes the external practices of states on the basis of
their internal effects.
As a condition of this criticism, the origin of the state is moved
outside representation and historicized. To the classics, it was of little
importance whether the contractual origin of the state was reality or
fiction, since it took place within representation and outside real
time.14 From Montesquieu on, the state becomes a container of tradi-
tion. The form of government, present in the analysis of interest only as a
determinant of power, takes on renewed significance in relation to
external policy: in his I'Esprit des loix (1748), we learn that it is against
the nature of a 'democratic republic to conquer towns that could not
enter the sphere of democracy', but that offensive wars are to be
expected from monarchies and despotisms.15
Further, the distinction between a real and a fictitious contract - a
distinction which exists only for modernity - begins to make sense
with Rousseau. As a result of the analytical method it employs, says
Rousseau, the classical theory of the contract transposes back to the
state of nature those traits in mankind which result from its actual
historical and present social conditions,16 such as inequality and
warfare: there is no war between men in a state of nature, only
between societies as the result of their emergence from that state. To
the classics, the natural condition antecedent to society was the state of
war, which made society necessary. To Rousseau, here following
Montesquieu, the formation of societies in real time is a condition of
war, making it a social evil:17
bodies politic, remaining thus in a state of nature among themselves,
presently experienced the inconveniences which had obliged indi-
viduals to forsake it; for this state became still more fatal to these great
bodies than it had been to the individuals of whom they were
composed. Hence arose national wars, battles, murders, and reprisals,
which shock nature and outrage reason.18
As a result of the formation of societies, constantly and mutually
disposed towards war, the human species finds itself in a manifest
contradiction, having traded particular war within for generalized war
without:19
193
Between man and man we live in the condition of the civil state,
subjected to laws; between people and people, we enjoy natural
liberty... Living at the same time in the social order and in the state of
nature, we suffer from the inconveniences of both without finding
security in either of them.20
What makes this situation look real and inescapable is that the
source of these distinctions is unknown. To Rousseau, it is to be found
in absolutist sovereignty, and its subjection of law to force: the prince
speaks to his citizens in the name of law, and to foreigners in the name
of raison d'etat.21 'We should see the multitude oppressed from within,
in consequence of the very precautions ... taken to guard against
foreign tyranny.'22 That is, modern man is stuck within a systeme mixte,
subjected to tyranny on the inside, and aggravated by the security
dilemmas coming from the outside.
As a second step in the criticism of prevalent state practices, there is
an effort to temper the social evil of war by subjecting it to the verdict
of universal morality.23 Reading Vattel's Le Droit des Gens (1758), we
can discern a concealed moment of criticism; the discourse of natural
law is reinstated in the rationalist and communitarian context of
Enlightenment philosophy, resulting in a subversion of the analytical
and ideological hierarchy between the external and the internal
spheres. The Law of Nations, says Vattel, is 'necessary, because Nations
are absolutely bound to observe it'24 and because it flows from 'the
universal society of the human race [and] all men of whatever con-
dition are bound to advance its interests and fulfil its duties',25 which is
'to advance their own perfection and that of their condition'.26
The fact that mankind is divided into separate states does not
overrule universal duty: each nation 'may be regarded as a moral
person, since it has an understanding, a will, and a power peculiar to
itself; and it is therefore obliged to live with other societies or States
according to the laws of the natural society of the human race'.27
However, this universal morality is not immediately binding upon the
external conduct of states: 'each has the right to decide in its con-
science what it must do to fulfil its duties, the effect of this is to
produce, before the world at least, a perfect equality of rights among
Nations'.28 Sovereign equality, when translated into concrete practice,
has Utopian implications; it is able to transform classical interstate
politics from a 'confused heap of detached parts' into a
sort of Republic, whose members - each independent, but all bound
together by a common interest - unite for the maintenance of order
194
and the preservation of liberty. This is what has given rise to the
well-known principle of the balance of power, by which is meant an
arrangement of affairs so that no State is to have absolute mastery
and dominate over the others.29
Thus, the sovereign state is conditioned by its place in the universal
society of mankind, being as much its foundation as its effect: 'the
conduct of a sovereign state should be in keeping with the end of the
society which exists among them'.30 Without sovereignty, the state
cannot be understood as a moral person and fulfil its duties; without a
wider set of universal values, this moral person cannot be sovereign,
while at the same time its right to a 'definite position in this great
society' is dependent on its sovereignty.31
As a consequence, the ends of the state are subordinated to the
internal ends of civil society: its end is to procure for its citizens the
necessities, the comforts, and the pleasures of life, and in general their
happiness. In a secondary position, and then only as a means to these
ends, comes the defence against external violence:32 'Humanity revolts
against a sovereign who, without necessity or without pressing
reasons, wastes the blood of his most faithful subjects and exposes his
people to the calamities of war.'33
With Rousseau and Vattel, classical interstate practices and the
divide between the internal and the external that silently justify them
are, as it were, denaturalized, and therefore exposed to moral criticism.
As a third step in Enlightenment criticism, this denaturalization is
supplemented by a positive view of revolution as a means of trans-
gressing the divide in the name of mankind and universal morality.
As Koselleck has remarked, in the Classical Age, the concept of
revolution was both supra-political and reserved for foreign policy.34
In its supra-political sense, revolution signified change according to
cyclical and recurrent patterns; the concept was modelled upon the
movement of heavenly bodies. When occasionally applied to the
political context, it was connected to the Aristotelian doctrine of consti-
tutional forms, and then signified their cyclical recurrence. Within this
view, a limited number of constitutional forms dissolved and replaced
each other by revolutionary upheaval, the form of political govern-
ment being affected by revolution, whereas the cycle itself cannot be
transgressed.35 Even as late as in Montesquieu, revolution signifies
pure negativity: 'all our histories are full of civil wars without revo-
lutions; those of despotic states are full of revolutions without civil
wars'36 When applied to foreign policy, as in Mably and Rousset, the
195
term 'revolution' is introduced in the analysis of state interest on an ad

hoc basis, and then in order to explain an event wholly external to the
tabulated order and unpredictable from within it, such as a massive
redistribution of capabilities between states resulting from a major war
or from a sudden acquisition of wealth resulting from exchange with
the colonies.
To classical knowledge in general, revolutions did not bring any-
thing new, only the sudden recurrence of something familiar.
However destabilizing this suddenness was to the conditions of
knowing - as in the analysis of interest - the semantics and metapho-
rics of revolution parasitized on the assumption that historical time
was uniform, repeatable and without discontinuous breaks. While the
form of government might alter through revolution or civil war, the
social order itself remained unaffected.37
With the Enlightenment, however, the concept of revolution takes
on a different meaning and a new function. First, it becomes a metahis-
torical concept, signifying linear development and transcendence of
the existing order; revolution comes to signify progress. Second, it
takes on inevitability and positivity as something that can be predicted
and bent to the desires of men; the metahistorical concept of revo-
lution places man as the transhistorical subject realizing itself through
revolution. Third, revolution is understood as a totalizing historical
process, encompassing not only the form of government but culture
and society and even mankind as a whole, for whose benefit it is
undertaken: man makes history through revolution.38 Writes d'Argen-
son: 'Everything is revolution in this world: the states have their time
of progress and decay.'39
Raynal is not only a good example of this transvaluation of the
concept of revolution, but also a good example of the ideological
rediscovery of the New World, a process which is logically and tempo-
rally simultaneous to Enlightenment criticism. In his Histoire philosophi-
que et politique (1770), Raynal begins by asking if revolutions - past and
future - are of any benefit to man.40 His answer is, as the title indicates,
as much historical as it is philosophical: covering a continuum of
revolutionary development from the state of nature up to the rise of
the New World and the prophesied decline of the Old, mankind
unfolds as the master of its own political destiny.
From the state of nature, writes Raynal, emerges the 'enormous
machines we call societies' which 'act and react with all the violence of
their particular energies, creating artificially a veritable state of war'.41
196
Everywhere, order springs from anarchy: every civilized people has
been savage; every savage people is destined to become civilized.42 All
nations have oscillated from barbarism to the civil state, and from the
civil state back to barbarism:43 civil government is always momentary,
carrying within it the seeds of its own destruction and replacement;
revolutions are bound to succeed each other with a speed which one
has difficulty to follow.44
However, the civilizing process obeys a different chronology with a
different pattern of progress and regress in different parts of the world:
it is far from uniform, and increased social and legal complexity is not
always a sign of moral progress. While European states pride themselves
on their internal legislation, their external relations are governed by the
same set of uncivilized principles that organize the relations between
the savages of the New World, to whom legislation is unknown. Looked
upon from a moral perspective, the savages of the New World and the
sovereign states of the Old are equals, but looked upon from the
vantage point of the civilizing process, the innocence of the savages
distinguishes them from the guilt and corruption of European princes.
To Raynal, therefore, a lasting peace between the present European
states is an impossibility. In an absolutist state, being no more than the
personal property of one single person, sovereign authority is located
in the hands of a king, who safeguards internal peace through external
warfare. Government is arbitrary, laws are obscure and a military spirit
prevails. Balance of power is chimerical since it is founded upon
treaties which are made by a sovereign, 'who always sacrifices his
subjects to injustice, and his obligation to his ambition'.45
Raynal's work is as much prophesy as it is history; in fact, at the time
he is writing, the distinction between history and prophesy is difficult
to uphold consistently. Like More's Utopia, Raynal's Histoire projects a
moral incommensurability onto a global political space; but unlike
More's Utopia, Raynal's Histoire grafts his revolutionary Utopia onto a
time, its realization being the inevitable outcome of a globalized
history. As Koselleck has remarked, 'overseas and the future were the
fictive area of exculpation that indirectly guaranteed the triumph of
morality'.46
Asking how the discoveries have influenced both those who dis-
cover and those who have been 'discovered', Raynal finds in the
exchange between the New and the Old World the prime forces of
revolution. The discoveries are as much a remaking of Europe as they
are a conquest of the outside; they signify the mastery of otherness,
297
but also a loss of sameness. The rise of the New World marks the
decline of the Old; trade, founded on natural justice, works to establish
reciprocal influence between peoples. With trade, the general interest
of mankind gradually comes to prevail over the forces of particularity
and decay represented by absolutist sovereignty.47 With trade, com-
munication establishes social bonds between peoples, while breaching
and rearranging the divide between inside and outside; the external
practices of states perpetuate oppression within, so liberation must
proceed from without, from overseas, from the future.
The denaturalization of the classical state, the criticism of the divide
which constitutes it as a space of power and interest with a sovereign
at its apex, the emergence of mankind as a privileged and transhistori-
cal subject, the insistence on revolutionary and progressive necessity
in history; all these signs of crisis coincide and culminate in the
distinction between the civilized and the uncivilized, as in Paine's Rights
of Man (1791/2):
All the European governments ... are constructed not on the prin-
ciple of universal civilization, but on the reverse of it. So far as these
governments relate to each other, they are in the same condition as
we conceive of savage and uncivilized life ... Being yet in an uncivi-
lized state, and almost continually at war, they pervert the abun-
dance which civilized life produces to carry on the uncivilized part to
a greater extent.48
Revolutions, then, have for their object, a change in the moral con-
dition of governments ... If commerce were permitted to act to the
universal extent it is capable, it would extirpate the system of war,
and produce a revolution in the uncivilized state of governments.49
To Paine, a new system is now opening to the view of the world.50
The twin forces of popular sovereignty and commerce will eventually
gain the upper hand; politics will be subordinated to universal mora-
lity, foreign policy to the general interest of society, violence and
oppression to reason and liberty. But what, we must now ask, is the
unthought foundation of this criticism? What makes its appeal to
mankind possible, as something which permits the crossing of all
boundaries, and which is to manifest itself through revolution?
Knowing: language, man and nation

'As my subject interests mankind in general', says Rousseau, 'I shall
endeavour to make use of a style adapted to all nations, or rather,
198
forgetting time and place, to attend only to men to whom I am
speaking.'51
In this section, I shall analyse the prehistory of the epistemic change
which runs parallel to the emergence of the international, and which
contributes to its genesis through a rearrangement of identity and
difference. In classical discourse, identity and difference are rigidly
polarized, yet they implicate each other in the ordering of empirical
individuals. With the advent of modern knowledge, the fact of their
mutual implication is turned into a dialectical opposition, an oppo-
sition between relations that sets everything it touches into historical
motion; therefore, my description must include a genealogy of those
identities which in Rousseau are accorded the same status but repre-
sented as different: language, man and nation.
Contrary to what has been proposed by Foucault, however, I shall
argue that this genealogy has a reverse seriality: language and man
does not take on historicity as the result of a prior epistemic change;
rather, the epistemic revolution launched by Kant is carried out in
response to a prior destabilization of the mathesis.52
To the classical writers, language was a grid imposed on the world in
order to analyse it. Language was posited as the analysis of represen-
tation, and it defined the mode of being of the objects brought under
its sway, so that a parallelism between things and words - between
classification and nomenclature - could serve as the foundation of
knowledge. When language itself is investigated, the aim is to perfect
its ability to represent. When language is criticized, it is on the grounds
that language lacks accuracy in representing. Language could have no
history and no reality outside that of its representations; a language
could only change in response to changes in the order of empirical
individuals, and then in order to be able to represent the modifications
things had undergone.53
During the second half of the eighteenth century, this power to
represent is relegated from language to the speaking subject himself.
Language becomes a medium of representation, rather than its privi-
leged locus. The strict parallelism between words and things is broken,
and instead the power to represent becomes a faculty in the mind of a
knowing subject. Words continue to represent, but only in the mind of
someone that employs and understands them. Words take on meaning,
more or less transparent in relation to what they represent, but only by
virtue of being spoken and known by a subject, individual or col-
lective. From here on, conceptual analysis becomes possible, and later -
199
as words become saturated with meaning - necessary in order to

purify language as a medium of scientific knowledge.
Being rooted in the subject rather than in external objects entails
that language becomes expressive of something other than itself. It
reflects the experience of an individual, or it manifests the tradition of
a collective political being. Language itself takes on historical reality,
and shares the same chronology as that of its speaker, whose thoughts
and habits can be rendered accessible through interpretation of the
written or spoken word. As a result of the expressive function allotted
to it, language becomes subject to interpretation, designed to unmask
what is beneath it.
To the classics, language and society both resided inside the logical
space of representation, the facts of their common root and logical
interdependence being reducible to a hypothetical contract between
men, signed, as it were, outside time, yet in need of the sovereign's ink
and seal. From Vico onwards, this common root is grafted onto time
and turned into an origin. This leads to an unending quest for the
proper chronological and geographical limits of this origin, at which
language and society are essentially pure and harmoniously united. It
is no longer the possibility of an origin which gives rise to the historic-
ity of man, language and nation, but their very historicity which makes
the quest for an origin necessary if their identity in the present is to be
unambiguously established. This quest for origin is as much an episte-
mic drive as it was to become a political one: language and nation not
only share the same organic and profoundly historicized mode of
being, but being the expressions of one another, they also share the
same identity which conditions a mode of knowledge as well as the
cohesion of a nation.54
To Vico, this pure origin is poetic imagination: 'We find that the
principle of these origins both of languages and of letters lies in the fact
that the first gentile peoples, by a demonstrated necessity of nature,
were poets .. ,'55 To trace the particular origin of a society or a nation,
one must retrace its source in language; '[b]y such a method, the
beginnings of the sciences as well as of the nations are to be discover-
ed.'56 Language, in its dense reality, is able to 'tell us the histories of the
institutions signified by the words, beginning with their original and
proper meanings and pursuing the natural progress of their meta-
phors'.57 Metaphors, being banished from classical discourse as a
threat to civil peace and representative rigour, are now thought of as
expressive of an underlying and decodable reality.
200
From this necessary beginning a universal history can unfold.

Uniform ideas originating among entire peoples unknown to each
other must have a common ground of truth; this makes it possible to
establish a 'mental dictionary for assigning origins to all the diverse
articulated languages'.58 What is true of language is true of natural law
as well; they share the same succession in time, and are co-present and
consistent with human institutions: 'the order of ideas must follow the
order of institutions'.59 Hence, they share the same diversity of origin:
'the natural law of the gentes had separate origins among the several
peoples, each in ignorance of the others, and it was only subsequently,
as a result of wars, embassies, alliances, and commerce, that it came to
be recognized as common to the entire human race'.60
However, beyond this diversity lies the essential unity which is the
proper object of Vico's scienza, by which the eternal idea of this world
of nations can be grasped:61 "There must in the nature of human
institutions be a mental language common to all nations, which uni-
formly grasps the substance of things feasible in human social life and
expresses it with as many diverse modifications as these same things
may have diverse aspects.'62
With Vico, a first step is taken towards the replacement of the
classical mathesis with a new, modern and subject-centred constructa-
bility.63 To Vico, the indisputable truth of mathematical knowledge
derives from the fact that it has been made as a scientia operatrix. Its
deductions and demonstrations are but ways of making truth; the
figures of analytical geometry are knowable only by virtue of being
constructed by the knower. The criterion of truth, says Vico, is to have
made it.64
Since man has not made physical nature, it is not susceptible to the
same methods of knowing as is the world of geometry. Cartesian 'clear
and distinct ideas' may appear self-evident, but nothing assures their
validity as soon as we move outside the realm of what is constructed
by the mind; even introspectively, the criterion of indubitability does
not hold sway, since the mind does not make itself. The world of
human institutions, however, is ultimately made by men, and can
therefore be known as a mode of self-knowledge. Human institutions
invariably reflect human activities and human intentions, and are
therefore knowable from the inside, from the historical chain of inter-
nal causes that gave rise to them as manifestations of knowledgeable
self-transformation: 'the world of civil society has certainly been made
by men, and ... its principles are therefore to be found within the
202
modifications of our own human mind ... since men have made it,
men could come to know'.65
The certum - as opposed to true knowledge (verum) - attainable of
the beings in the external, physical world has its political counterpart
in a merely 'probable judgement' of reason of state. What is certain in
the laws is not only that which is backed by authority, but also that
which is irreducible and particular; certum means not only certain, but
also particularized or individuated, and is opposed to that which is
common:66 'since this world of nations has been made by men, let us
see in what institutions all men agree and always have agreed. For
these institutions will be able to give us the universal and eternal
principles on which all nations were founded and still preserve them-
selves'.67 The world of nations and the science of that world must
therefore be wholly logically simultaneous, since 'the sciences must
begin where their subject matters began'.68 Consequently,
history cannot be more certain than when he who creates the things
also narrates them ... as geometry, when it constructs the world of
quantity out of its elements, or contemplates that world, just so does
our science create for itself the world of nations, but with a reality
greater by just so much as the institutions having to do with human
affairs are more real than points, lines, surfaces, andfiguresare.69
Thus, language, man and nation traverse the same field of ideal
history, obey the same inner laws of birth and decay, and are knowable
according to the same set of rules, which also draws them together in
the same space of history. Yet simultaneously, and precisely within
this very space of history, they together constitute the conditions of
knowledge, and are folded back upon themselves in a ceaseless act of
reflexivity, their 'being' and 'knowing' themselves subject to endless
modification and undecidable alteration: man is because he is known
by himself, and is known by himself because he is.
To Rousseau, the origin of language marks the beginning of its own
degeneration, since it follows the same line of development as do man
and society.70 It is not, says Rousseau in his first Discours, 'a light
undertaking to distinguish properly between what is original and
what is artificial in the actual nature of man, or to form a true idea of a
state which no longer exists, perhaps never did exist, and probably
never will exist; and of which it is, nevertheless, necessary to have true
ideas, in order to form proper judgement of our present state'.71 Thus,
the origin of language and society cannot be restored in all its purity
and simplicity, but it can serve as a hypothetical point from which
202
present deviation and degradation can be measured. Beginning with a

'cry of nature', a language of sounds and gestures is slowly articulated
from inarticulate cries; the savage wanders in the forests without
speech, since it would be of little use in the ordinary course of his life;
communication requires co-presence, but the mark of man's natural
condition is solitude. The closer we come to the dusk of barbarism, the
more complex and articulate man's signifying capacity becomes.72
But this articulation can only proceed to a certain limit: as long as
man remains in his pre-civil state, he cannot develop general propo-
sitions and abstract ideas. To every single object, a particular name is
attributed, 'without regard to genus or species, which these primitive
originators were not in a position to distinguish ... so that, the nar-
rower the limits of their knowledge, the more copious their dictionary
must have been'.73
To Rousseau, as to the classical writers, the conditions of possibility
of language, society and knowledge are rigorously intertwined; to the
Classics, their development resided within representation, represen-
tation itself being conditioned by their interdependence: the sovereign
was introduced in order to stabilize their intersection. To Rousseau,
and to many modern theories of meaning, the interdependence of
language, society and knowledge is a fact of their development in
time; none of them alone could traverse the same succession of events;
the fact of their analogical relationship - in, for example, 'a form of life'
- is not present at their common prehistorical origin, but is constituted
through a vast mutation which draws them together, 'a fortuitous
concurrence of many different causes':74
I cannot imagine how [men] would ever be induced to give up their
primitive liberty ... to impose upon themselves unnecessarily the
labours and the inevitable misery of a social mode of life.
He who willed man to be social, by the touch of afingershifted the
globe's axis into line with the universe. I see such a slight movement
changing the face of the earth and deciding the vocation of mankind:
in the distance I hear the joyous cries of an insane multitude; I see the
building of castles and cities; I see the birth of the arts; I see nations
forming, expanding, and dissolving.75
Who, then, is responsible for this 'slight movement'; this exogenous
rupture which actualizes everything hitherto dormant in human
nature? Is it, as has been argued, that man's fall from his original
innocence into the wickedness of civility 'certainly concerns God', and
that this external event 'remains nonrational as the origin of reason
203
must'?76 This event is itself irreducible to logic, since it produces its

origin from without; from a negativity exterior to the system that is
overturned. What this interpretation fails to notice is that the sup-
plementary character of the catastrophic event that produces lan-
guage, society and knowledge has man as both its foundation and
effect. In Rousseau, it is as if Dante's poetic vision of a humanity that
crowns and mitres itself over itself comes true in time: man was born
free; his place of birth is in the lacuna between the natural and the
artificial; his date of birth is the very moment when he comes to know
of his own historicity, when he situates himself in time and begins to
distinguish what went before him from what is simultaneous to
himself; at the same time, he is everywhere in chains, in the chains of a
time he has forged himself by attaining civility.77 The limit which
separates the barbarous from the civil is crossed at the moment it is
pointed out, and the subsequent loss of innocence marks - or rather,
announces and performs - the coming of a new era, of modernity, of
man.
With modern man, with language, with society, the same evils that
once united separated people now tend to separate those who are
united. The classics, so anxiously trying to repair the damage created at
Babel, now find themselves surpassed by a new disaster; the birth of
society is the death of representation, of its naturalness, of its power to
organize the world. With modernity, what once happened at Babel
was not only the disruption of the divine order forging words and
things together, but the diversification of languages:
Every language has its own form, a difference which may be partly
cause and partly effect of difference in national character, this conjec-
ture appears to be confirmed by the fact that in every nation under
the sun speech follows the change of manners, and is preserved or
altered along with them.78
From this point, natural unity is replaced by artificial difference. The
primordial harmony and innocence of mankind is broken, and replaced
by war between nations and between significations. Only reason is
common to all men;79 from now on, reason constitutes the unquestion-
able foundation from which it is possible to speak in the name of man,
and from which to criticize the duality of man's political condition.
In addition, reason and knowledge are historicized. If language is
expressive of deep social identity and hidden political forces, and
constantly bears witness to man's creative and constructive powers, it
becomes possible to trace the development of reason and knowledge
204
through the genesis of language. The play between reason and lan-
guage becomes a constant roundabout, says Herder, since, 'Without
language, man can have no reason, without reason no language.'80
Thus the genetic relationship between man, language and reason can
be subjected to the perennial question of which came first, an unde-
cidability which leads to the continuous retreat of their origin to a new,
always allegedly more primitive and primordial presence. To Herder,
and then pace Rousseau and Condillac, language first receives a history
proper to it, which releases it from all fixed chronologies; a history
which then can be superimposed upon man as the knowledgeable
creator of language, who is 'one cipher in the cumulative progression
of his species'.81 'Man, endowed with a mind ... has by his first act of
spontaneous reflection invented language.'82 Further, since language
is both the seed of all knowledge as well as an expression of the hidden
subjectivity of the speaker, our study of language must be directed
beneath the surface of representation:
we are not concerned with the external sound of a word; we are
examining the internal genesis of a word as its essential characteristic
which we associate with a clear and distinct consciousness ... [I]t is
remarkable how this self-created inner sense of the spirit constitutes
in its very origin also the means of communication.83
The history of the human spirit becomes the history of language, 'a
study in the labyrinth of human imagination and passions'.84 We are
beings with a language, an organism designed to create language,
living in a space adapted to our capacity for thinking through a
medium of which the form and material content are determined by the
organization of all senses: 'We may indeed speak of this creature
endowed with mind and language, with discerning consciousness and
creativity as a system.'85
To Herder, the diversification of language is a natural corollary of
human diversity, and as such the result of a dialectic which proceeds
by mutual estrangement and conflict:
Contempt and enmity cannot but lead to complete separation and
estrangement. For who would associate with so contemptible an
enemy as a barbarian? Who would like to share with him the family
traditions, the memory of a common origin and, above all, language,
this very symbol of tribal identity?86
To the incommensurability of languages corresponds an analogous
incommensurability of cultures, 87 of organic wholes ordered in a
205
succession of time and space; yet beyond their difference, there is a

more profound identity. As in Vico and Rousseau, there is a macro-
cosm of mankind, which forms 'one progressive totality, originating
from one common origin within one universal order7, and from which
the transmission of language and knowledge proceeds: 'This inter-
national transmission of social cultures is indeed the highest form of
cultural development.'6*
Thus, from Vico to Herder, the triad language-man-nation is both
organized and historicized. Each can be identified in the present on the
basis of the individual history of the other, and each can be given a
history on the basis of the present identity of the other. They are
drawn together by means of analogy, ordered into historical succes-
sion as 'ages' that are separated by chronological thresholds, and
distributed in space as 'cultures' or 'nations' with geographical limits.
Further, each entity in the triad is a doublet. Language is expressive
of underlying identities and forces, and figures simultaneously as a
more or less neutral medium of knowledge. Man is inserted both as an
object of knowledge, and as the condition of knowing in general: man
knows and is known in a ceaseless game of mirrors. The nation, finally,
is knowable as a manifestation of man and language, but is ultimately
also the site in which the collective resources of knowledge are buried.
As a consequence of this development, and from Kant onwards, the
problem of knowledge can no longer be formulated and solved against
the backdrop of a unifying mathesis, but must be directed explicitly at
the relation between what is given empirically and that which consti-
tutes the transcendental conditions of knowledge. From this point on,
to neglect the duality of subject and object will only lead philosophical
inquiry into a dead end or into a dogmatic slumber. Moreover, phil-
osophy must discriminate between territories of knowledge, each
obeying different rules and duly separated by the strict legislature of
pure reason.
Human reason has fallen into perplexity, writes Kant: 'it begins with
principles which it has no option save to employ in the course of
experience, and which this experience abundantly justifies it in
using'.89 But in its quest for self-knowledge, it must remain incom-
plete; by overstepping all possible empirical employment, it precipi-
tates itself into darkness and contradictions. If the powers of the mind
are limited to passively mirroring what is external to itself, while it is at
the same time supposed that our knowledge conforms to objects in
themselves, the unconditioned character of our representations
206
cannot be thought without contradiction. But if we, as is the revo-

lutionary upshot of Kritik der reinen Vernuft (1781), 'suppose that our
representation of things, as they are given to us, does not conform to
these things as they are in themselves, but that these objects, as
appearances, conform to our mode of representation, the contradiction
vanishes'.90
It man, as in Vico and Rousseau, is able to create himself together
with the social world he inhabits, by repeating a sublime gesture -
whether poetic or catastrophic - he is nevertheless not entirely at
home in this world; he is at once free and alienated. Nature is both an
object of nostalgic reverence and a limit to the constructive powers of
his mind, and the classical attempt to enlarge uncritically the scope of
constructability through a universal mathesis causes what Kant calls a
disfiguration of sciences. Allowed to trespass upon one another's
territory, each mode of inquiry is in fact prohibited to enter upon the
same royal road of science as mathematics and physics.91
The historical success of mathematics depends on a revolutionary
liberation of the mind, an event that once and for all reversed the
singular subordination of the mind to the object of inquiry. Instead of
taking the object as a primitive given, and, so to speak, reading off its
properties from its concept, the true method is to bring out what is
necessarily implied in the construction that the mind presents to
itself.92
In his effort to revolutionize philosophy in the direction of a science,
Kant opens up a lacuna which, in its various guises, is regulative of
modern knowledge in its entirety. Whereas the creative powers of
man implied in mathematical constructability cannot be transposed
wholesale to the realm of philosophy, since philosophical inquiry
cannot detach itself completely from what is given to it by experi-
ence,93 Kantian philosophy opens a gulf between what is constructable
and what is not, between what is a priori and what is a posteriori;
between the powers of speculative reason and the demands of empiri-
cal understanding, between moral freedom and natural necessity. This
lacuna, which, as we shall see below, structures the international
system right from the moment of its birth, has plagued our under-
standing of it ever since, and spurred ceaseless debates concerning its
identity as an object of investigation as well as about how to deal with
it methodologically, and how to cope with it morally.
The First Critique deals a death blow to representation as a mode of
organizing knowledge; it questions representation, not as to its possi-
207
bility as such, but as to its fundamental character and its limits. By

posing the question of what conditions representation, Kant ventures
beyond it and opens up a new metaphysical theme, firmly centred
around the transcendental conditions of knowledge.
At the same time, however, the 'empirical' is bracketed, and restored
into a territory of a posteriori knowledge, founded on and delimited by
formal rules of valid experience rather than determined by the essence
of its objects, which by definition cannot be known.
From this point on, the scene is also set for the endless controversies
of modern knowledge. On the one hand, the notion of a language as a
transparent medium of knowledge gives birth to the project of forma-
lizing concrete experience and of constituting pure empirical sciences.
On the other, the expressive dimension bestowed upon language
gives rise to methods of exegesis, devoted to the investigation of
human subjectivity as a locus of meaning. Whether 'positivist' or
'hermeneutic', whether devoted to 'explanation' or 'understanding',
man has now once and for all replaced the king as the secret condition
of all knowledge; in the former case, the object is the condition of his
experience, in the latter, he himself is the condition of the object.94
In this section, I have also touched upon the rearrangement of
identity and difference that takes place in the discourse of man and
language during the latter half of the eighteenth century. First,
identity and difference are uncoupled from each other, and moved
from the level of properties to the level of relations in the constitution of
objects. Now the individual object is formed out of its analogical
relations with other objects, relations that in turn define and are
defined by their organic mode of being. The set of relations which
defines an object and its structure from within, is analogous to the set of
relations that hold between objects, their only difference being that of
hierarchy and complexity, the difference of 'microcosm' and 'macro-
cosm'. Second, identity and difference, their opposition itself now
being thought in relational terms rather than as something to be read
off from the order of empirical beings themselves, help constitute
uninterrupted successions of objects of the same complexity as well as
dialectical relations between objects of different complexity. For
example, a specific language and a specific culture go together in
succession, making it possible to debate which of them is to be
accorded temporal priority, and to explain the genesis of one in terms
of the presence of the other. Simultaneously, however, they both can
be referred back and related dialectically to a higher level of organic
208
complexity, be it a universal language or a universal man. Behind the

diversity of individual forms lies a prior structural identity; anterior to
this identity, there is a play of genesis and succession conditioned by
yet another universal or another organic structure.
Once knowledge of beings is both organized and historicized, there
can be no indisputable end point to this dialectic; what is different can
always be shown to share in common one single property, namely that
of being different, which then in fact makes them identical; what is
identical can always be shown to suffer from an initial separation (how
else could the question of identity ever come to the fore?), which
makes it different from itself. In the next section, it remains to explore
the consequences of this play between identity and difference for the
emergence of the international.
Being: the emergence of the international

What one criticizes, one often simultaneously yet unwittingly restores
at a level inaccessible to the mode of thought from which the act of
criticism sprang. We have already touched upon the criticism directed
against the separation of inside and outside in classical political dis-
course; it now remains to demonstrate that the emergence of the
international is logically connected to this criticism, by drawing upon
the same fundamental epistemic premises and utilizing the same set of
metaphorical resources. What makes the international intelligible as an
object of discourse also serves as the unthought foundation of
Enlightenment criticism; what modernity with one hand so eloquently
questions from the vantage point of a universalist ethic, it reconstructs,
reorganizes, reifies and naturalizes at a new logical and historical
depth with the other.
As I shall argue in the present section, the emergence of the inter-
national must be understood as logically linked to the emergence of
the concept of the modern sovereign state, although it is not reducible
to it. The latter is not a necessary condition of or a cause of the former,
nor is it the other way around; what is true, however, is that they both
emerge in indissoluble union with one another, and supplement each
other within modern political knowledge, emerge together with a
specific historicity of their own and an explanation of their origin and
future.
That is, the modern state and the international system do not only
arrive in the same epistemic and ontological package, but enclosed in
209
the package is a manual for how to understand them and how to

explain their dialectical-historical-empirical interconnection scienti-
fically, and then in the various senses accorded to the word from
Ranke to Waltz. Moreover, the goods within the package are depend-
ent on the manual for their existence; without the empirico-transcen-
dental mode of knowledge accorded privilege in this manual, both the
sovereign state and the international system would cease to be intellig-
ible, and the manual would lose its power to construct and to organize
modern political reality along its most seemingly self-evident and
constitutive dividing line, separating the sovereign state from the
international system. We must now turn to the partly neglected pre-
history of this manual of modem sovereignty; much energy has been
devoted to the internal logic and justification of the modern state, but
little attention has been paid to the constitutive relations it entertains
with its outside.95
The nation-state and the dialectic of conflict
If the classical concept of the state was based on a problematic - and to
our eyes highly fictitious - identification of the person of the sovereign
with the abstract space of power and interest, one could say with some
simplification that the modern state is based on an equally problematic
identification of state with nation, concealing its sovereignty by disper-
sing it at the ideological level. However, the epistemic and ontological
resources used in establishing this identity are radically different from
the ones employed by the classics.
Instead of approaching this problem through a sociology of modern
nationalism,96 a brief genealogy of the conditions of possibility of both
the state as a reified acting subject and the nation as an imagined
community will help us to note how the identity of nation and state
gradually is secured in the early-modern discourse on the state; the
nation, first defined in empirical terms as a deep-seated cultural and
linguistic identity, is cross-fertilized with the more abstract and tran-
scendent concept of a territorial state.97 The outcome is well known:
the nation-state, with both state and nation defined in analogous terms
as organized beings; it is no coincidence that modernity marks the
return of the body politic as the paradigmatic metaphor of the state.98
By the same token as the superficial unity of king and state was
articulated and secured through the analysis of state interest in terms
of the identity and the difference between them, the notion of a
general interest or will forms the crucial link between nation and state
210
in the modern scheme of sovereignty. As I shall argue in the present

section, the precarious identity of state and nation, as well as their
mutual reification, is carried out through a dialectic of conflict that is
present in political texts as well as in the historical relations between
them, and with a sublimation of otherness as both the intra- and intertex-
tual outcome. This dialectic of conflict establishes identity out of
difference, sameness out of otherness; it does so by a continuous
reiteration of a fundamental presupposition of modern knowledge; it
treats identity and difference as qualities that implicate each other
logically as well as temporally, and distributes their opposition in a
succession of historical events and actual relationships between enti-
ties simultaneously organized and constituted by the dialectic.
Asking how sovereign authority can be strengthened through
popular participation, d'Argenson responds with a theory of general
interest. To him, the strength of a whole consists in the union of the
parts, and the problem of politics is to discover the true general interest
among the mass of particular interests. Between man and man, as
between nation and nation, there are conflicting interests, and 'each
interest has different principles. The agreement of two particular
interests is reached on grounds opposed to those of a third. It is this
that makes good general laws so difficult to compose.'99
That is, a 'general interest' can only be articulated or realized against
the backdrop of an opposed interest; as soon as a general interest is
formed or derived out of this conflict, its negation is also formed, thus
dissolving its generality into particularity at the next level of conflict.
Whenever a conflict of interest yields to a rule at one level, it does so
only by virtue of being opposed, thus transposing the conflict to
another level of complexity, which in its turn awaits a general rule.
This dialectic of conflict is repeated and further articulated by
Rousseau, Kant and Hegel, and lies at the heart of their concepts of the
state. Explaining the genesis of the social compact in terms of the clash
of particular interests, Rousseau points out that 'men cannot engender
new forces, but only unite and direct existing ones, they have no other
means of preserving themselves than the formation, by aggregation, of
a sum of forces great enough to overcome the resistance'.100
The realization of the social compact demands a mutual and total
alienation of individual rights to the whole of the community, which
then becomes sovereign over itself; as in the classical analysis of
sovereignty, its locus and scope are metaphors for one another, yet
they are now twin aspects of the same body politic; the general will is
211
general in its object as well as in its essence. It must 'come from all and
apply to all'.101 Sovereignty is the expression of this general will and a
common interest; it must be indivisible because it is general, and it is
general because it is indivisible; it is inalienable because the sovereign
cannot be represented except by itself; it cannot be represented except
by itself because sovereignty encompasses all members of the body
politic.102
In Rousseau, and now contrary to the classical writers, sovereignty is
expressive of an underlying identity of nation and state, rather than a
sign of their logical separation into state and society. The general will is
both a source of unity and a consequence of it, since 'if the clashing of
particular interests made the establishment of societies necessary, the
agreement of these very interests made it possible':103 were there no
point of agreement between particular wills, no society could exist in
the first place. Hence, the people are absorbed into the state and
constituted as a collective, which presupposes a general will in order
for it to be intelligible as a unity and as the basis of its assimilation
within the state, a general will which already presupposes as a con-
dition of its existence a prior unification of the people into a commu-
nity or nation in order to be manifest in the state. Thus, if the unity of
the people flows from the sovereignty of the state, and the unity of the
state grows out of the sovereignty of the people, and the identity of
state and people derives from the common source of a general will,
which is the mark of the sovereignty of each and therefore also of their
difference, we end up with a paradox:
For a young people to be able to relish sound principles of political
theory and follow the fundamental rules of statecraft, the effect
would have to become the cause; the social spirit, which should be
created by those institutions, would have to preside over their very
foundation; and men would have to be before law what they should
become by means of law.104
The possibility of a mythological lawgiver, so dear to exemplary
knowledge, is no longer open to the early-modern Rousseau; the
ultimate source of legitimacy must be sought elsewhere.105 As a con-
sequence, the identity and indivisibility of the sovereign state cannot
be thought simply to emerge from the successions of conflicts that
brings us from a state of social corruption and inequality to the civil
condition, where man is author of the law, and enjoys equity and
liberty under the guidance of a general will. There is an unbridgeable
lacuna here: the truth of the general will must be recognized by man in
222
order to become a historical actuality, but the very same set of con-
ditions which makes its recognition desirable, also constrains its reali-
zation. The objective truth of the general will must be translated into
subjective will before it can be recognized as objective, and it must be
recognized as such before being internalized as subjective will: as in
the transition from the state of nature to the social condition, the
system is incapable of transforming itself from within. One must have
'recourse to an authority of a different order, capable of constraining
without violence and persuading without convincing'.106
What is attainable in history is unattainable in man, and conversely.
Du Contrat Social provides no clear solution to this problem of historical
finality and human imperfectibility, but responds to it by a logic of
sublimation, which diverts conflict to the outside:
[TJhere can be no general will directed to a particular object. Such an
object must be either within or outside the State. If outside, a will
which is alien to it cannot be, in relation to it general; if within, it is
part of the State, and in that case there arises a relation between
whole and part which make them two separate beings, of which the
part is one, and the whole minus the part the other. But the whole
minus a part cannot be the whole, but only two unequal parts; and it
follows that the will of one is no longer in any respect general in
relation to the other.107
The state, being general unto itself, inhabits a realm of particularity.
In fact, it is general unto itself only by virtue of being particular in
relation to other states. Its self-identity derives from its difference, not
from other states in their own particularity, but from the larger whole
formed by them together. Here, sovereignty constitutes and incessan-
tly reconstitutes the state through division, through the demarcation
of inside from outside, of presence from absence. The sameness of the
Rousseauan state can only be articulated and legitimized against the
backdrop of a more encompassing social context, now site of what was
formerly purged out of the Same through the dialectic of conflict.
In contrast to the classical authors, the early-modern theory of the
state defines the Other of the state as something chronologically
simultaneous yet spatially exterior to it; the outside, however, is an
ontological doublet of the inside; it is intelligible since it subscribes to
the-same chronology as the state, and is conceptually analogous to it,
in as much as the set of relations which holds inside states also holds
between them.
This dialectical pattern is repeated and further articulated by
213
Kant.108 The state, says Kant, 'is a society of men... [l]ike a tree it has its
own roots, and to graft it onto another state as if it were a shoot is to
terminate its existence as a moral personality.'109 Ideally, such a state
should be founded on an original contract, an 'act by which the people
constitutes a state for itself';110 Kant explicitly denies the historical
reality of such a contract, but turns the general will into an idea of
reason, 'which nonetheless has undoubted practical utility; for it can
oblige every legislator to frame his laws in such a way that they could
have been produced by the united will of a whole nation'.111
Such are the dictates of the moral law. Actual states, however, have
grown out of conflict; as we shall see later, history is as much poison as
antidote, as much cause of what from Kant onwards comes to consti-
tute the problem of order as the final solution to it. In historical reality,
the state has developed out of antagonism; to Kant, antagonism is the
unsocial sociability of men, their tendency to come together in society
coupled with their tendency to break this society up. 112 Antagonism is
inherent in the human species as a whole, and manifests itself at every
level of social complexity from microcosm to macrocosm. The subject-
ion to laws, however imperfect, has taken place as a result of a clash of
forces, conducted by nature. War has driven people into all regions of
the earth and compelled them to enter into more or less legal relation-
ships, yet separated them by linguistic and religious differences. The
fact of culturally and geographically determined difference between
peoples leads us to expect that even if they were not compelled by
internal dissent to submit to the coercion of public laws, war would
have produced the same result from outside; each people would find
itself confronted, thus forcing it to form itself into a state in order to
encounter the Other as an armed power.113 Hence, the same unsocia-
bleness which forced men together into states gives rise in turn to a
situation in which each state, in its external relations with other states,
is in a position of unrestricted freedom, which is a condition of war.114
To Kant, the sovereignty of man is a political tragedy. States are
formed out of discord and otherness, but with the logically inevitable
side-effect that human antagonism merely sublimates to a higher level
of social complexity in the course of the civilizing process. What once
was prior to the state and prevailed among men in their barbarous
freedom is relegated to a higher sphere the very moment the state
emerges out of it, and therefore also becomes beyond reach: in his
effort to overcome the otherness immanent in himself, man merely
reifies it. The price has to be paid for his sameness within the state, yet
224
antagonism is also contained within man as a positivity, a spring of his

moral and cultural development; what bears the stigma of moral
negativity in the international sphere is simultaneously the condition
of its transcendence, and the ultimate emancipation from the evils of
war. As we shall see below, sovereign man himself is the battleground
between moral autonomy and natural necessity, a battle against his
own finiteness.
The dialectic of conflict, and the melting together of state and nation
into a whole against the backdrop of an exterior simultaneously pro-
duced by the dialectic, has its most decisive moment in Hegel.115 To
him, it is in its external relations that a state becomes an actual state,
and it is through external relations that the citizens experience a
collective identity within the state as well as an identification with it
and its cause.
Already in his Verfassung Deutschlands (1802), we learn that, 'A
multitude of human beings can only call itself a state if it be united for
the common defence of the entirety of its property.'116 The essential
unity of the state does not reside in an anterior cultural, linguistic or
religious identity, but in the allegiance to a common authority for
common defence. Cultural identity, writes Hegel, has lost its import-
ance as the foundation of unity, and 'is now to be reckoned among the
accidents whose character does not hinder a mass from constituting a
public authority'.117 Further, the social and cultural diversity of society
'may not hinder the chief activity of the state, since ... this activity
must secure itself before all else'.118 Hence, the sovereign state is
sovereign only to the extent that it has the capacity to secure itself in
relation to what is external to it, and not in relation to what is merely
contingent and therefore absorbable within it: 'dissimilarity in culture
and manners is a necessary product as well as a necessary condition of
the stability of modern states',119 since in their external relationship
'States stand to one another in a relation of might... this relation has
been universally revealed and made to prevail.'120
Later, in the Rechtsphilosophie (1820), the assimilation of the concept
of the nation to the concept of the state is brought to completion
through the mutual implication and opposition between the sovereign
state and what is external to it. The state is 'the spirit of the nation ...
which permeates all relations within it and also the customs and
consciousness of the individuals who belong to it'.121
For the Hegelian state to reach actuality - which is to constitute itself
as a unified acting subject - two interrelated steps, already discernible
225
in Rousseau and Kant, are necessary: it must unite subjectivity and

objectivity, and it must resolve the tension between particularity and
universality.
Hegel's theory of the state is not a theory of states as empirical
beings. The Hegelian state is above all the actuality of an ethical idea,
and must as such be present to itself as consciousness and self-
knowledge before it can be understood as an empirical reality. It
acquires subjective and substantial will as a result of being conscious
of itself, and being conscious of itself, it is rational in and for itself. The
unity of the state is 'an absolute and unmoved end in itself'.122 The
state must know itself in order to exist, and its self-knowledge is
mediated through the self-consciousness of the individual citizen,
since in his knowledge of the state and in his identification with it, the
individual citizen finds the source of his freedom within it.
As such, the idea of the state has three different determinations,
each necessary and together sufficient for its actuality. First, internally,
it is related to itself and takes on actual existence only in relation to
itself as a self-contained organic being. Second, externally, the state
stands in a relationship of mutual exclusion to other states, taking on
actual existence through outward differentiation of itself. Third, his-
torically, it takes on active existence as a subject by virtue of its place in
world history.123
First, in its internal determination, the universal and the particular
are brought to coincide within the state. The actuality of the state as a
political being resides in the unity of the particular and the universal
within it: without this mutual resolution of particularity and univer-
sality the state cannot actualize itself, only subsist in an inferior
form.124
This means that the state is unable to attain reality without the
knowledge and interest of particular forces within it; men do not live
within the state merely for the realization of their particular interests,
but direct their will to a universal end. Thus, the state exists objec-
tively as well as subjectively, and it is only through his membership in
the state that the individual can take on objective reality, truth and
ethical life. As such, the individual embodies in himself individuality
and universality: he knows and wills for himself, and simultaneously
discovers in his self-consciousness a universal element, present in his
social and political institutions. Thus, the state is both an expression of
universal interest as such and a medium for the conservation of par-
ticular interests within the universal interest:
216
The principle of modern states has enormous strength and depth

because it allows the principle of subjectivity to attain fulfilment in
the self-sufficient extreme of personal particularity, while at the same
time bringing it back to substantial unity and so preserving this unity
in the principle of subjectivity itself.125
Second, and externally, the state is an indivisible and therefore
exclusive unit, and the relations it entertains with other states consti-
tute a necessary supplement to its internal unity, structure and consti-
tution. Turning its will to differentiation outwards, the state manifests
itself as pure inside, since it has 'incorporated the subsistent differ-
ences into itself'.126
However, in their concrete historical appearance, the external deter-
mination of the state takes precedence over its internal determination.
The historically primary authority which states possess, writes Hegel,
is their external independence, 'even if it is abstract and without inner
development'.127 Ultimately, all relations that the state has to itself
have been formed out of its constitutive relation to what is outside
itself; its self-identity, rationality and actuality have grown out of prior
difference and contingency. In fact, it is in its external determination
that the state becomes possible both as an object of consciousness and a
historical reality:
In existence this negative relation of the state to itself thus appears as
the relation of another to another, as if the negative were something
external. The existence of this negative relation therefore assumes the
shape of an event, of an involvement with contingent concurrences
corning from without.
Nevertheless, this negative relation is the state's own highest moment
- its actual infinity as the ideality of everything finite within it. It is
that aspect whereby the substance, as the state's absolute power over
everything individual and particular ... and makes it present to the
consciousness.128
In Hegel's logic of sovereignty, the state is formed by an 'involve-
ment with contingent concurrences coming from without', that is, by
war with other states; 'the ideality which makes its appearance in war
in the shape of a contingent external relationship is the same as the
ideality whereby the internal powers of the state are organic moments
of the whole'.129
The nature of its external relationship with other states is deter-
mined by the sovereign, and decisive power is concentrated in his
hand. Sovereignty, which initially is vested in the state as such as an
227
abstract and universal concept, can exist only as a subjectivity which is

'certain of itself. The sovereignty of the state, in both its outward and
its inward determination, must therefore be embodied in a person,
which has 'being for itself and thus is capable of attaining absolute
self-knowledge. The concept of the monarch, says Hegel, cannot
be derivative from any other concept, but must be posited as
'entirely self-originating', and thought of as possessing immediate
individuality.130
Even if accorded almost no formal importance in Hegel's theory,131
the person of the sovereign is introduced at the very theoretical
disjunction of the state's external and internal determinations; it is the
presence of the immediate will of the sovereign which draws the line
in water between the inside and the outside of the state. Formally,
internal sovereignty lies with the people, but only if we speak of the
state as a whole, for without the monarch and 'that articulation of the
whole which is necessarily associated with monarchy, the people is a
formless mass'.132 In short, it ceases to be an internally organized state,
and all its determinations lose their applicability; it melts together with
the outside, and lapses back into contingency and anarchy. Its ethical
life is terminated, and its subjectivity vanishes with the absence of the
sovereign. Thus, in a situation of crisis, says Hegel, and then prefigur-
ing Schmitt133 and Morgenthau: 'whether in external or internal affairs
- it is around the simple concept of sovereignty that the organism and
all the particular spheres of which it consisted rally, and it is to this
sovereignty that the salvation of the state is entrusted, while pre-
viously legitimate functions are sacrificed'.134
In relation to other states the sovereign state is an individual, and
now by virtue of being recognized by them as such. Without relations
with other states, the state cannot be an actual individual, any more
than an individual can be an actual person without a relationship with
other persons. Its internal legitimacy must be supplemented by recog-
nition, but in order to be recognized, the state itself must recognize
other states; in this act of recognition, the other state is accredited with
self-consciousness.135 In their mutual relationship, states exist in a
condition devoid of right; sovereignty organizes their internal as well
as their external relations; the latter is a relationship of independent
units which makes mutual stipulations but at the same time stands
above those stipulations.136 Thus, from Hegel's logic of sovereignty
follows a state of war between states; both as an anterior and hidden
condition of their emergence in reality and in consciousness, and as
218
the inevitable outcome of their actualization as individual subjects.

But in the broadest view of these relations, says Hegel, 'the ethical
whole itself - the independence of the state - is exposed to con-
tingency'.
Out of the juxtaposition of first and second determinations of the
state arises the third, historical one. In its second determination, the
state is exposed to contingency, flowing from its reciprocal relation-
ship with other states. Now if the task of philosophical inquiry is 'to
eliminate the contingent',137 the third determination carries the
promise of assimilating this contingency to a higher moral purpose; in
its particularity, the state is exposed to contingency in its external rela-
tions, and these relations are the 'manifest dialectic of [their] fini-
tude'.138 Thus, the mutual relationships between states give way to
their place in world history.
In its third determination, the state stands as a particular in relation
to a higher universality, which encompasses the totality of states and
determines their historical destiny. World history is not an irrational
necessity, a force of fate and contingency, but the necessary develop-
ment of reason to self-consciousness and freedom; as such, it passes
verdict over the state and its concrete existence in time and space.139
The spirit of a nation or state is the universal spirit in a particular
form; the world spirit, whose self-realization animates Hegel's phil-
osophy of history, transcends its particular manifestation in the state,
but uses the latter as a means towards the realization of a higher end.
Reason cunningly utilizes and exploits the particular interests and
passions of individual states in order to 'realize its essence and to
obtain the prerogative of freedom'.140
States, seen from the vantage point of world history, have their own
actuality and are governed according to their own inner principles,
but in their preoccupation with their own particular interests, they are
at the same time 'the unconscious instruments and organs of that
inner activity in which the shapes which they themselves assume pass
away, while the spirit ... works its way towards the transition to its
next and higher stage'.141
That is, the conflict between subjectivity and objectivity which for-
merly manifested itself within the state and rendered it imperfect, is
now transposed to world history; sovereign statehood is posited as
the end of history, yet states are the agents of history, acting according
to principles which they in their particularity cannot change. States
are the authors of history; they make history by drawing upon forces
229
which they cannot affect to a greater extent than these forces affect the
course of states themselves.142
In Hegel, we have seen how the dialectic of conflict reaches its apex,
and how the sublimation of otherness is concluded. Ontologically, the
state and its outside are caught in a game of mirrors, warranted and
perpetuated by the logic of sovereignty which continuously reins-
cribes its duality into our political understanding. The logic of sover-
eignty produces what it asserts, and confirms what it produces; the
state, in all its positive determinations, arises out of otherness; other-
ness, in all its negativity, arises out of the state.
In its mutations from d'Argenson to Hegel, the concept of the
sovereign state becomes successively both more abstract and more
comprehensive. The problem confronted by d'Argenson and Rousseau
was how to interpret a general will or interest in terms of particular
interests, and how to reconcile the objective truth of indivisible sover-
eignty with the subjective will and the deliberations of the citizens.
Turning the idea of an original contract and a general will into an idea
of reason, Kant reduces the problem of the sovereign state to a conflict
between the concepts of freedom and nature, simultaneously
inscribed in the cognitive faculties of man, and transposed to the
international sphere, finally, Hegel's theory of the modern state
attempts to resolve all these conceptual conflicts, but in doing so, it
merely relegates them to a more certain depth and a more comprehen-
sive totality: to a world history governed by reason to an ultimate end
of freedom within the state.
Throughout the dialectic of conflict, the state is understood as a
profoundly historicized being; it traverses history in a succession of
conflicting mutations that lead towards inner perfection and cohesion.
As an outcome, the theory of the modern state is inherentlyfinalist;the
dialectic employed to constitute it as an acting subject is governed by a
vision of a final resolution of all its internal conflicts. But history is not
only proposed as the solution of the problem of order; history is not
only the source from which the sovereign state springs forth in con-
ceptual purity or empirical reality; history is not only invoked to
explain the modern state as the outcome of conflict. It is not merely the
case that the state has a history or is history all the way down; rather,
and from Hegel onwards, history as a field of study becomes essentially
a history of nations and states. As we shall see below, it is from within
this history the international emerges as an object of knowledge, a
knowledge which from its start is historical.
220
The historiography of the international

With modernity, as we have noted above, historicity begins to per-
meate all aspects of human existence, and furnishes man and his
political and social institutions with chronological and geographical
limits and fixed origins. Moreover, history becomes a singular History.
If both exemplary knowledge and the analysis of interest dealt with
history in the plural, early modernity dissolves these histories into one
mode of being, one temporality and one chronology, which then is
superimposed upon events.143 As Savigny remarked, history is 'no
longer a collection of examples but rather the sole path to true know-
ledge of our own condition'.144 Or, as Mommsen wrote in a commen-
tary upon the aspirations of classical historiography, history is 'instruc-
tive solely in that it inspires and instructs independent creative
judgement'.145
Having become at once singular and the essence of individual
beings, history establishes a multiplicity of identities, each of them
possible as objects of knowledge. Informed by the dialectic of conflict,
history as a field of study constitutes the fertile ground in which the
disciplines of social science later can grow; in our case, history estab-
lishes the sovereign state as an object of empirical inquiry, and opens it
up to investigation from two vantage points simultaneously, points
which correspond to the dialectical polarity of its concept; hence, from
Weber onwards, we see the formation of a macrosociology of the state,
and a century later, from Manning, Carr and Morgenthau onwards,
the gradual formation of an amorphous and eclectic body of empirical
knowledge which I have labelled international political theory.
In the previous section, we saw how the modem sovereign state
evolved out of dialectical relations with its other, the more compre-
hensive totality of states, and how this totality itself took on being
simultaneously. We also were able to witness how this constitutive
separation was carried out by the logic of the concept of sovereignty
itself. In this section, it remains to see how the state and the inter-
national system themselves are turned into objects of historical
investigation, a historical investigation conceptually informed by the
philosophy of history, yet aspiring to the status of an empirical science.
In the classical age, we had a history of states and their interests. The
maxime was not only based on an analysis of present interests and
forces, but also used to bestow a particular past upon each individual
state, and to delineate a succession of historical events that account for
221
the present identity and future fate of that state. History was analysis;
historicity was subject to the immutable rules of classification and
comparison. Risking anachronism, we could say that seventeenth-
century historiography was nomothetic and explanatory in spirit; its
principles of reconstruction were themselves thought to be timeless
and independent of the varying self-understandings of the agents.
Modern historiography, by contrast, is ideographic and interpretive: in
fact, those very distinctions relied on here are inseparable from the
epistemic revolution brought about by Vico and Kant.
A history of the international proper cannot be the history of indi-
vidual states and their modes of interaction. A history of the inter-
national system may of course encompass the actions and interactions
of particular states among its dependent variables, but it must depart
from the principles which organize the international into a whole, into
a set of relations that is something more than the sum of its com-
ponents.
Furthermore, in order for such a history to be empirical, it cannot
remain content with speculative dialectics or delimit itself to an elabo-
ration of the teleology of the world spirit. History, says Hegel, 'is
concerned with what actually happened', and demands a procedure
which is 'at variance with the essentially self-determining activity of
conceptual thought'.146 Historical events, in their full detail and multi-
plicity, require the assistance of concepts in order to be representable,
but they must not be singularly reduced to concepts or assimilated into
the independent movement of reason. Thus, already in Hegel, the
stage is set for a conflict between the demands of an a posteriori history,
and the demands of an a priori philosophy of history: while the former
is able to furnish the historian with an indiscriminate collection of
events, the latter supplies him with narrative coherence and explana-
tory concepts. From von Humboldt to Ranke, Heeren and Michelet,
this conflict constitutes the core problem of nineteenth-century histori-
ography,147 and through the different solutions proposed to it from
Dilthey to Collingwood, ultimately leads to the late-modern split
between history proper and the history of ideas.
First, if the historian's task is to present what actually happened, and
if this representation necessitates a conceptual grid in order to be
intelligible, the historian is confronted with a problem. For where does
he find the appropriate concepts in the absence of the unifying power
of a mathesis? In his Considerations generates (1801) Ancillon had drawn
attention to the fact that history had to be created out of a mass of
222
events and deeds, and this by arranging them in a continuous and

homogeneous series.148 Later, not even nature spoke for itself: even a
simple depiction of nature, writes von Humboldt in his Uber die
Ausgabe des Geschichtschreibers (1821), 'cannot be merely an enumer-
ation and depiction of parts or the measuring of sides and angles; there
is also the breath of life in the whole and an inner character which
speaks through it which can be neither measured nor merely
described'.149
An historical event, being all the more animated by spirit, cannot be
apprehended solely in the positivist and a posteriori mode, since it 'is
only partially visible to the senses; [its] manifestations are scattered,
disjointed, isolated; what it is that gives unity to this patchwork, puts
the isolated fragment into its proper perspective, and gives shape to
the whole, remains removed from direct observation'.150 Language no
longer has the power to organize experience into representations,
since 'growing out of the fullness of the soul - it frequently lacks
expressions which are free from all connotations'.151
The facts of history are little more than the result of a tradition which
one has agreed to accept as true, and constitute the necessary basis of
history, its raw material. But the historian must not stop his inquiry at
this point, sacrificing the inner truth of events; he has to 'become
active, even creative ... in giving shape by his own powers to that
which by mere intuition he could not have perceived as it really
was'.152 That is, finding himself with a language which is expressive
and therefore necessarily opaque as a medium of knowledge, he must
supply the representative concepts himself by fusing his inquiring
intellect with the object of inquiry. The fabric of events is spread out
before the historian, 'in seeming confusion, merely divided up chrono-
logically and geographically'; as a consequence, he must 'separate the
necessary from the accidental, uncover its inner structure, and make
visible the truly activating forces in order to give his presentation the
form on which depends ... its truth and accuracy7.153
Second, the historian now stands in the same relation of active
subjectivity towards his object as mankind stands towards its historical
destiny in the speculative philosophy of history; creativity and con-
structability is both warranted and circumscribed by history itself; man
is subjected to the forces of history, and history is subjected to and
enacted by the creativity of man. Modern historiography has depth, it
is no longer confined to the surface of representations or present in the
revolutionary transition from one taxonomy to the other. An event is
223
only an object of historical investigation insofar as it is a sign of an

underlying historical reality; history is no longer a history of mere
events and their chronological succession, but a history of the forces
and relations causing their occurrence and determining their nature.
It is to these active and productive forces that the historian must
turn; he must render a strict account of their inner nexus and recog-
nize their inner trends at a given moment; he must inquire into the
relationship of forces to the existing state of affairs and to the changes
that have preceded it.154 Therefore, the understanding of an event
must always be guided by concepts and ideas. Ideally, in his activity,
the historian must be guided by the same ideas which govern history
at the period of inquiry, since 'all these things partake in the nature of
thought, which can only be sustained by being thought'.155 In order to
bring form to the multiplicity of events of history, the historian must
abstract that form from them, a form which is not projected onto
history, but is the essence of history itself.
Hence, from von Humboldt onwards, the task of the historian
becomes the reverse of the task of classical historical analysis; the
accuracy of historical representation is no longer measured in terms of
the explanatory scope and power of a maxime, but in terms of a
congruence between the self-understanding of the historian and that
of his object, since his understanding presupposes 'an analogue of that
which will actually be understood later; an original and antecedent
congruity between subject and object'.156
Splitting the difference between the demands of a posteriori empiri-
city and the demands of a priori narrative coherence, the historian has
to proceed with two tasks simultaneously: 'the investigation of the
effective factors in historical events and the understanding of their
universal relationship'.157 As a consequence of the creative powers
attributed to the historian to represent the past as it actually was, the
field of history itself is turned into a place in which the universal and
the particular are joined together in a coherent, stable and yet unfold-
ing scheme. History is a system of relationships which draw together
parts and whole, but this system itself remains immutable through
history; it has no history of its own, since it is its own timeless essence.
The history of the world is from its conception a history of relations
between nations and states, of the hidden forces and principles
organizing them into a system and making them intelligible as indi-
vidual parts of this whole. The original and antecedent congruence of
subject and object - justified by and yet justifying the creative and
224
constructive powers given to the subject - turns the historian's con-

cepts into doublets of the reality to be depicted, and reality into a
doublet of these concepts. The pattern of world history corresponds to
the matrix of concepts used to represent and narrate it. To von Hum-
boldt, 'the affairs of this world ... compose an infinitude which the
mind can never press into one single form, but which incites the
historian to try ... and gives him the strength to achieve it in part'.158
To von Humboldt, the clue to the world historical process lies in the
individuality of states: 'in many areas the inner drive is more easily
recognized in them than in individuals ... [t]he spiritual principle of
individuality therefore remains active in the midst of the history of
nations.'159 This duplication of subject and object in which the con-
cepts organizing political reality also organize historical reality, so
essential to a history which aspires to be realistic, is repeated by Ranke:
'The particular bears the general within itself... no one can escape the
urge to survey the whole from a detached viewpoint ... Out of the
variety of individual perceptions a vision of their unity involuntarily
arises/160
That is, sovereignty not only organizes relations between states by
drawing them together into a system of states; it gives the modern
state a past proper to its present, and a present proper to its past, and
this by drawing them together in a unity. With Ranke, the inter-
national is constituted as a genuinely historical mode of being, logi-
cally inseparable from the existence of states, but with its own organiz-
ing principles that are corollaries to internal sovereignty. Further,
Ranke considers the clue to the internal conditions of states to be
contained in their external relationships and thereby points to the
possibility of a macrosociology of the state.161 The full significance of
the state, says Ranke in Politisches Gespriich (1836) lies in its being
contained in a system: 'these many separate, earthly-spiritual commu-
nities called forth by genius and moral energy, growing irresistibly,
progressing amidst all turmoil of the world towards the ideal, each in
its own way! Behold them, these celestial bodies, in their cycles, their
mutual gravitation, their systems!'162
With Ranke, what I have labelled the Westphalian hypothesis
emerges as something logically inseparable from his conception of an
international system. The international system constitutes itself as
presence out of the turmoil of the Thirty Years War.163 Without this
sudden establishment of sovereignty as the organizing principle of
international relations, history itself becomes close to incomprehensi-
225
ble to him: 'what would have become of our states', asks Ranke
towards the end of Die grossen Machte (1833), 'if they had not received
life from the national principle upon which they are based?'164
World history does not present such a chaotic tumult, warring, and
planless succession of states and peoples as appear atfirstsight. Nor
is the often dubious advancement of civilization its only significance.
There are forces and indeed spiritual, life-giving, creative forces, nay
life itself, and there are moral energies, whose development we see...
They unfold, capture the world, appear in manifold expressions,
dispute with and check and overpower one another. In their inter-
action and succession, in their life, in their decline and rejuvenation,
which then encompasses an even greater fullness, higher importance,
and wider extent, lies the secret of world history.165
The European state system as envisaged by Ranke is formed and
preserved through a balance of power.166 In the classical analysis of
interest, a balance of power existed between two adversary powers or
between two adversary alliances, either as a result of a deliberate act of
balancing, or as a result of a spontaneously established equilibrium of
forces; a spontaneously formed balance could be disrupted by an act
intended to balance, and an act intended to restore balance could be
disruptive of it. Thus, as was indeed argued by Mably,167 the very
notion of balance of power itself could disturb the balance of power; in
its name, the weaker part could justify an increase in military strength
through arms procurement or realignment and thereby disrupt an
imaginary or desired balance. The classical balance of power, parasitic
upon a mechanistic and zero-sum interpretation of the concept of
power, was therefore out of balance. As Kant ironically remarked, it
was like a 'house constructed in such perfect harmony with all the
laws of equilibrium that it collapsed as soon as a sparrow alighted on
it'.168
Now, with the waning of the mathesis and the emergence of know-
ledge of historical and organic beings, the balance of power is grad-
ually established as a property of the larger whole, and then in analogy
with the division of powers advocated in the domestic context. From
Montesquieu and Vattel on, and most explicitly in Ancillon's Consider-
ations generales (1801), von Gentz's Fragments (1806) and Clausewitz's
Vom Kriege (1832),169 the balance of power is understood against the
backdrop of an underlying unity, whose individual and universal
parts are interlinked; 'balance' now refers to an equilibrium between
the forces of particularism and the forces of universalism in the system
226
of states. As such, the modern concept of the balance of power is

Janus-faced; it is the principle organizing the present system as a
fusion of particular and universal forces, thus providing a guide for
reflexive state action, yet at the same time it is designed to explain the
historical transformations of this system, as well as its momentary
deviation from the particular balance of forces which the historian
judges to be ideal or 'normal' according to his ideological whims: to
oppose force with force is to maintain order and harmony. Hence, if
sovereignty is constitutive of the system and renders it structurally
immutable, the balance of power is regulative, and explains both
change and stability within the limits set by sovereignty:
In great danger one can safely trust in the guardian spirit which
always protects Europe from domination by any one-sided and
violent tendency, which always meets pressure on one side with
resistance on the other, and, through a union of the whole which
grows firmer from decade to decade, has happily preserved the
freedom and separate existence of each state.170
Moreover, the emergence of the international system is also inex-
orably intertwined with the simultaneous emergence of what I have
labelled the Renaissance hypothesis. Being the first to sketch a com-
prehensive history of the European state system, Heeren projects the
reciprocal freedom and independence of states acting together in a
system onto the 'prehistory' of this system; he is able to furnish the
state system with a past by abstracting from the forces and tendencies
of his present, and transpose them backward in time, and thus appro-
priate what otherwise would be an alien past. A conservative writing
in the aftermath of the restoration, he, much like Burke had done
before him,171 sees the revolutionary wars and the hegemonical
attempt of the French as a deviation from the ideal equilibrium
between particularism and universalism which has characterized the
state system from its allegedly rightful chronological origin, but which
now happily has been restored back into its proper equilibrium
through the reintroduction of monarchy in France; that is, by a change
in the internal structure. Witness the opening phrases of Heeren's
Handbuch (1809/22):
The history of the European state-system is anything but the history
of individual states. On the contrary, it is the history of their relations
with one another, especially the great powers, insofar as they evolved
out of the essence of particular states, out of the personality of rulers
and the ruling ideas of the time. The general condition of change in
227
those relations, and consequently for the general character of the

state-system, is its internal freedom; e.g. the autonomy and mutual
independence of its members. To show how it was formed,
endangered and transformed, becomes the main task of the historian;
a task which can be solved only by exposing the entire chain of the
internal relations in the system, and the causes, which gave rise
to it.172
To Heeren, as to Clausewitz, modern history is marked by and

inseparable from the gradual genesis of an international system, com-
posed of 'intelligent beings, acting in accordance with simple logical
rules'.173 The Italian wars, the discovery of America, the refined tech-
nologies of war in the Renaissance; all these events and the forces they
release neatly coincide to establish the chronological origin of both
modernity and the international. Burkhardt was not the only, nor the
first, to provide modernity with a noble ancestry out of darkness by a
swift rupture; both Heeren and Ranke furnish their creations with a
past, a past which is the condition of their empiricity; 'to present what
actually happened' can only be done from a present in which the
universal concepts necessary for the coherent representation of par-
ticular events and forces are present.
That is, in its empirical-historical mode, the international system is
presentist at birth; it emerges out of a knowledge together with a past,
out of a knowledge which must deny its own historicity in order to be
both historical and empirical at once. As an object of empirico-histori-
cal inquiry, the international system is immutable from its conception;
it is established together with its geographical and chronological
limits; it can undergo ideological mutations, withstand revolutionary
redistributions of power, but its basic organizing principles remain the
same all the way from its origin to its mature phases and prophesied
expansion. It suddenly emerges in the empirical realm as if the notion
of a system itself had no history, as if it had been manifest in the
substratum of timeless and invisible forces, awaiting discovery at the
level of events by the historian, romantically attuned to what is univer-
sal in history.
Furthermore, from the domain of history, conditioned as it is by the
dialectic of conflict, emerge two possible vantage points from which to
explain empirically modern sovereignty and the interrelationship
between state and system it gives rise to. Like Ranke, one can start
from the outside constituted by sovereignty, and from there explain
the inner structure of the state and its transformations in terms of its
228
external relations, or, like Heeren, one can start from the inside thus
constituted, and explain the international system, its genesis and
transformations in terms of the internal relations of the state.
If something is present because it has a past, and has a past because
it is present, it also has a future. It is with this future that I shall end my
investigation.
Expansion and transcendence: man, the state and peace
In the classical analysis of interest, the future existed merely as a
cyclical recurrence or as a constant threat of displacement and uphea-
val. States could be affected by change, but this simply constituted a
quantitative redistribution within the fixity of the table. In the absence
of a future radically alien to the present, nothing could be projected
onto it or turned into dreams of progress. Hence, in the Classical Age,
utopianism is a dead letter; Campanella, Bacon, Harrington, and
Comenius were all well able to formulate Utopian visions of political
harmony, but lacked the resources essential to conceive of their reali-
zation in the world, namely a concept of the future, understood as
open and linear historical time.174
With the advent of modern historicity, the future is opened up to
ideological exploitation. In the first section above, we saw how Raynal
was able to project the conflict between absolutism and the revolution-
ary Enlightenment onto time-space, and stage his drama as a historic-
ally inevitable confrontation between the Old World and the New. In
the second section, we saw how man, nation and knowledge were
embodied in a progressive teleology, so that the development of man
and community is interlinked with the proliferation and growth of
subject-entered knowledge. In the third section, we have seen how the
state grows out of a finalist dialectic in its effort to temper and reconcile
all conflicts in the earthly community of knowing subjects; as such,
and right from the start, the modern state embodies a Utopian promise.
This finalist and Utopian promise, is continuously compromised by
the ponderous presence of the international system, however. The
duality of the human political condition - so lamented by Rousseau - is
not eased by the profound reorganization of political knowledge;
rather, it is realized and reinscribed at a deeper, and seemingly
inescapable level of thought. History, in all its organizing power, is not
only posited as the source of this duality, but constantly invoked as the
means of transcending it. Therefore, we must ask how the sovereign
state and the international system are connected to the future.
229
At their logical juncture, and at their point of emergence in modern

political discourse, the state and the international system have, as it
were, two futures. One is centred around the prophecy of expansion,
while the other is centred around the promise of transcendence.
To the classics, the table of states contained a finite number of
political beings, by the same token as the taxonomy of plants and
animals contained a fixed number of species. Outside the table of
states, there was an external arena to which the analysis of interest
could not readily could be applied. Russia and the Ottoman empire are
either left out altogether,175 or, their interests are glossed over in a most
superficial manner;176 it is no coincidence that Descartes compared
objects inaccessible to analysis with distant countries like China and
Mexico.177
At the moment of its emergence, the international system has a
future of expansion as much as it has a past of unfolding. In its peculiar
blend of universalism and particularism, in its fusion of cognizant
subjectivity and objective empiricity, the international system is an
identity encompassing prior differences between states; as a universal
spirit, it does to European identity what Christianity did in the Renais-
sance and before, and what a monarchic universelle sometimes threat-
ened to do in the Classical Age.
Whether in its transcendental or empirical mode of being, and as a
system both competitive and conflictual, cooperative and cohesive, it
stands to the non-European arena as Same to Other; the ideal unity of
sovereignty and anarchy is historically destined to spread, and sweep
away all other, inferior forms of political organization. Individual
states, says Hegel, 'recognize one another as independent individuals,
and the independence of each is only respected insofar as the
independence of others is also recognized'. This mutual recognition
forms the foundation of international law, '[b]ut in world history, a
higher right comes into play. In fact, this is even recognized in reality
in those situations where civilized nations come into contact with
barbarian hordes.'178
Hegel's eurocentrism becomes clear in his discussion of the geo-
graphical basis of world history, and in his elaboration of its phases;
the spirit of the world travels from East to West, soaks up that which is
cherished in the present and which provides hallmarks of European
identity, but brushes aside exactly that which is present in the self-
definition of the non-European Other.179 To Heeren, the happy restor-
ation of hereditary monarchy as the inner guarantee of stability of the
230
state-system coincides in time with the expansion of the European

state-system on other continents, bringing forth a Weltstaatensystem.180
To Ranke, the superiority of Europe consists in its ability to resist
hegemony in all guises, this being so since '[i]t is not always recog-
nized that the European order of things differs from others that have
appeared in the course of world history by virtue of its legal, even
juridical nature.'181
Whereas the prophecy of expansion projects the presence of the
international system onto the future spaces of history, the promise of
transcendence projects the finalist dialectic of the state onto the future
of a globalized international space. If the presence of an international
system poses an antithesis to what is dear to the civil condition, and
constitutes a perennial threat to the Utopian project of the modern
state by generating discord and war, how can it be transformed in a
more cosmopolitan direction?
To the classical writers, the problem of peace was not a problem of
transcendence in time; it was a problem of substituting a rosier con-
stellation of interests for the existing one. With no epistemic access to a
dialectic of conflict or a history of deep forces and origins, the projects
of Cruce, Sully, and Bellers were doomed to be either nostalgic about a
past unity or sceptical about a present plurality, or both.182
As posed by the dialectic of conflict since Saint-Pierre and Rousseau,183
the problem of transformation invariably involves the problem of
finality. War is a social evil, ultimately generated by the international
system itself as a result of the absence of central authority; this absence
follows as a corollary to the presence of the sovereign state as the
prime supplier of internal peace as a social good. Thus, war made the
state, and the state made war. Writes Clausewitz: 'if we regard State
policy as the intelligence of the personified State, then amongst all the
constellations in the political sky whose movements it has to compute,
those must be included which arise when the nature of its relations
imposes the necessity of a great War.'18*
Simultaneously, however, a transformation of these relations can
only be carried out from below, through the sovereign agency of
particular states themselves; this means that the very same inter-
national anarchy that one promises to transcend, also poses the ulti-
mate obstacle to the fulfilment of this promise. The ethical contradiction
between man's civil condition within the state and the state of war
between states rests on the ontological implication between the sover-
eign state and the international system, and if this duality cannot be
231
overcome by one swift and collective gesture, such as the estab-

lishment of a federation or a world government, 'it is not because it is
chimerical, but because men are foolish, and to be sane in the midst of
madmen is another sort of madness'.185
Man, as the hero of modernity, made the state out of conflict, but out
of the state inevitably arises a new state of conflict; man, in his quest
for sovereignty, has pushed the tragedy of his political predicament,
out of his hands by making the Other the condition of possibility of his
essential sameness within the state. From Rousseau on, early-modern
strategies of peace have no option left save to proceed by domestic
analogy when it comes to international transformation;186 at the same
time, the dialectic of conflict can only constitute harmony out of
conflict by the logic of sublimation; as Hegel remarked on the possi-
bility of a federative solution to the problem of transcendence: 'even if
a number of states join together as a family, this league, in its indi-
viduality, must generate opposition and create an enemy'.187
Thus, it appears as if the modern promise of transcendence is based
upon an ontology whose inherent dialectic continuously pours cold
water on the hope of its immanent fulfilment. History, as the unilinear
and dialectical succession of conflicting forces, is as much poison as it is
antidote; it solves the problem of order within the state, but poses a
problem of finality outside it. What can be attained and perfected
within the state cannot be attained or perfected within history, unless
we posit the sovereign state as the end of history, which brings us back
to square one. But what if we, so to speak, put unilinear history out of
joint, and regard past and future as contained in one 'present' of
endless duration?
Above, we saw how the duality between the concept of human
freedom and the concept of natural necessity was opened up in Kant's
First Critique, and how this conflict was as much a conflict between the
faculties of reason and understanding in man, as it was a conflict
between forces in the political world. In his Zum Ewigen Frieden (1795),
the realization of perpetual peace was made dependent on a dialectic
between these concepts, but every seemingly successful resolution of
this conflict merely transposed it to a higher level, where it was to
manifest itself conceptually as well as in the phenomenal world of
institutions and practices; antagonism reasserts itself at every level,
and is present within philosophy as the rule of the game in the contest
between man's cognitive faculties.
On the one hand, political institutions are partly rooted in the realm
232
of nature and are hence subject to the blind mechanical forces reigning
unobstructed in the world of phenomena. On the other, political
institutions, no matter how embryonic or imperfect, are partly rooted
in the moral world, revealing the possibility of moral progress and
bearing witness to the development of human reason.188
These two contrary views flow from the activity of understanding
and reason respectively. From the vantage point of understanding, our
past and present will look like a chaotic multitude of historical events
which at best form an empirically regular series.189 From the vantage
point of reason, however, our past and present will appear to be a
gradual accomplishment and a progressive unfolding of human
capacities, in which freedom permits the reasoned transformation of
the political and social world according to moral ends.
Now the viewpoint of presentist understanding, though epistemi-
cally warranted and possible to support with empirical evidence, gives
no moral guidance whatsoever. Rather, it serves to justify the political
realist in his self-interested pursuit, and therefore ultimately to perpe-
tuate the very reality it represents as real. Hence, when the faculty of
understanding is in charge, it is impossible to justify any assumption of
actual progress taking place in history. Politics will appear as an
activity guided by crude necessity alone, and idealistic hope gives way
to realistic despair.
By contrast, the finalist viewpoint of reason, while capable of
supplying firm and universal rules for moral action, goes beyond the
boundaries of possible experience and must nourish itself on specu-
lative thought. It is thus illegitimate both from an empirical and a
critical standpoint: politics appear as unrestricted emancipation or as
the unconstrained realization of moral ends without any sobering
influences from experience.190
Now, if we cut somewhat deeper into Kantian philosophy, and ask
how the idea of historical progress and transcendence is possible to
sustain and project onto the international realm, we find two solu-
tions, both much neglected by Kant's modern commentators, most of
whom have taken the duality between freedom and necessity -
between 'idealism' and 'realism' - for granted, which arguably itself is
a presentist and realist practice.191
Turning to Kant's Third Critique, the Kritik der Urteilskraft (1790), we
find that its main task is to bridge 'the immeasurable gulf between the
sensible realm of the concept of nature and the supersensible realm of
the concept of freedom'.192 The Third Critique is not concerned with a
233
definitive settlement of the contest between reason and understand-

ing, but with the exploitation of their antagonism, a solution which is
also vaguely echoed in Zum Ewigen Frieden.193 The mediating link
between the two is provided by judgement:
In the family of supreme cognitive faculties there is a middle term
between the understanding and the reason. This is the judgement, of
which we have cause for supposing according to analogy that it may
contain in itself, if not a special legislation, yet a special principle of its
own to be sought according to laws, though merely subjective a priori.
This principle, even if it have nofieldof objects as its realm, yet may
have somewhere a territory with a certain character for which no
other principle can be valid.194
That is, while we cannot observe any purpose in history or infer it
logically from any higher principles, judgement nevertheless permits
us to supply such an idea mentally, in order to bring coherence to a
multitude of political events which otherwise would seem random
and meaningless. We are epistemically entitled to reconstruct our past
and regroup its constituent events into a series as if they were indica-
tive of progress in history.195 Judgement here supplies a higher and
disinterested viewpoint from which to contemplate the course of
history without uncritical resort to speculative reason. Still, judgement
is in a sense weak, since the objective reality of a natural purpose is
simply not susceptible of proof through reason; the concept of natural
purpose is merely a regulative idea.196 Hence, its predictive - and
creative - power is limited; it makes progress in the past look purpo-
sive and certain from the vantage point of the present, but its continu-
ation into the future appears less certain, unless we seek to justify it
with the quasi-theological idea of an original understanding (intellectus
archetypus) as the cause of the world and author of its purposiveness.197
The second and more decisive step towards a reconciliation between
the concepts of determinism and freedom is taken in Der Streit der
Facultaten (1798), which explicitly addresses the question of how the
notion of a moral purpose in history can be reconciled with its empiri-
city. This short essay deals with the possibility of historical knowledge
from a prophetic vantage point. What we are seeking to know, says
Kant, 'is not a history of the past ... but a history of future times'.198
Such a predictive history must necessarily be a priori, and this is
possible only if the historian himself produces the events he predicts:
the historian must become prophet. Here, as in the Critique of Judge-
ment, experience or reason alone is insufficient to warrant progress, but
234
prophesy must nevertheless be based on some event which suggests

that man is both cause and author of his own improvement.199 If we find
such an event, it would be one of those rare moments in history when
mechanical forces and moral freedom coincide and reinforce each
other, but we cannot hope to identify these rare events as proper
causes of progress, only as historical signs, themselves indicative of
progress. We need only to search for a single event, and
[t]his inference could then be extended to cover history of former
times so as to show that mankind has always been progressing, yet in
such a way that the event originally chosen would not in itself be
regarded as the cause of progress in the past, but only as a rough
indication or historical sign (signum rememorativum, demonstrativum,
prognosticon). It might then serve to prove the existence of a tendency
within the human race as a whole, considered not as a series of
individuals ... but as a body distributed over the earth in states and
national groups.200
In the Contest of the Faculties, the opposition between reason and
understanding is finally dissolved. The promise of peace becomes a
prophecy of peace. First, the ontology underlying this opposition is
displaced. The historical world does not present itself subdivided into
subject and object, universal and particular, but as a kind of writing in
the broadest of senses: signs are substituted for events as the knowable
unit of the history. In a political history of signs, there is no essence, no
substratum of forces beneath the surface of signs. Second, it follows
that man is reintroduced into history in a different shape, and in a new
relationship to time. He no longer stands as a subject in relation to the
phenomenal reality of historical events, his creative powers circums-
cribed by the stratification of his consciousness into will and cognition.
Instead, his creative task takes on divine proportions in a world devoid
of essence and meaning; he alone is the author of historical signs, and
he alone is able to decipher them.
His task becomes as much poetic as it is hermeneutic; if meaning is
not intrinsic in history, it has to be created through ceaseless decoding
and recoding. Third, time is put out of joint, so to speak. A historical
sign collapses past, present and future into one moment of duration
and presence, since it simultaneously recalls, shows and anticipates
progress; it introduces man as the efficient cause in all three temporali-
ties simultaneously. Time is no longer a substratum in which history
simply occurs, or the canvas against which progress can be projected
or prophesied. Time is no longer an external condition of possibility of
235
history, but something internal to it. It shares the same reality as other
historical beings, that of being created by man. In the Contest of the
Faculties, it seems as if Augustine's JEternitas has finally been brought
down to earth, but now with man as its creator. Unilinear time is
replaced by man-made eternity, into which history is assimilated and
ceases to be a supplier of change and a source of the finiteness of the
beings subject to it.
What, then, characterizes a historical sign? It is not, says Kant, a mere
reversal of power. Instead, a historical sign is best provided by a
complex historical event, such as a great change or upheaval. What
matters is not the event itself, but the enthusiasm it gives rise to on
behalf of the spectators. Enthusiasm, as presented in the Critique of
judgement, is a modality of the sublime. It is 'the idea of the good
conjoined with strong affection',201 and as such it proves that man has
a moral character, since its sublimity presupposes susceptibility to
moral ideas.202
What Kant does is thus to turn the problem of historical tran-
scendence in international politics into a problem of overcoming time
itself. A historical sign, where and whenever it occurs, permits us to
infer progress in the 'present'; it bestows coherence upon the specific
'past' which led up to the event in question, and contains a 'future'
within this here and now of endless duration.203 Perpetual peace is no
longer only perpetual in the sense that the quest for it must be
perpetual; it is perpetual in the sense that it is only realizable outside
the time of the world.
To return to the question initially posed in this chapter: if the
international is intelligible, it is because man is the source of all
intelligibility and himself intelligible; he is sufficiently analogous with
his own construct. With this last step, the genealogical series of
modernity is completed; man is not only the author of his own deeds,
concepts and representations, and creator of his own history and
self-knowledge; his sovereignty is no longer confined to nature and
culture, but also encompasses the source of his finiteness and the limit
to his creative powers; having usurped Time, man is not only king, but
also God. He is released from the duality of his political condition and
the alienation fostered by it; he stands not at the end of history, but at
its beginning, always ready to remake it. But if God was killed by the
king, and the king was killed by man, who is going to kill man, and
thus make sovereignty once more unintelligible; who is next to draw a
line in water?
236
7 Conclusion:
the end of sovereignty?
In this book, I started out by turning a question of being into a question

of knowing. Instead of asking what sovereignty is, I asked what
happens when one tries to answer this question; instead of posing a
question which would merely invite yet another political metaphysics,
I tried to circumvent the question of being by investigating the
relationship between sovereignty and knowledge logically as well as
historically, as it has manifested itself in political and philosophical
discourse since the Renaissance. In this chapter I will summarize the
outcome of this investigation.
The contingency of sovereignty

In chapter 1,1 started by saying what a history of sovereignty would not
look like, and the rest of this book has been an attempt to justify these
destructive remarks, both through philosophical argument and
through historical narrative. As I hope now stands clear from chapter
2, a history of core political concepts based on a prior conceptual
analysis must indeed fail, and this for two reasons. First, since conven-
tional conceptual analysis seeks to isolate a stable relationship between
the meaning and reference of a given term, it runs into severe prob-
lems with sponge concepts such as sovereignty, since their very cen-
trality is conditioned by their ambiguity, and conversely. Second, there
is a tension between our definitional practices and our historical
ambitions, such that the very semantic identity established by a defi-
nition is either violated by the historical analysis, or makes the his-
torical analysis an empty reflection of the content of the definition.
An alleged remedy comes from the contextualist history of political
ideas. However well suited to reconstructing debates on the politically
237
good, contextualist history is much less helpful when it comes to the

politically true. As I hope to have made clear in chapter 2, the concept
of sovereignty is so firmly linked with the epistemic and ontological
foundations of political inquiry, that it hardly can be touched upon
without simultaneously evoking questions about these foundations. In
chapter 3,1 tried to demonstrate that contextualist history - as a brand
of hermeneutics - itself contains an unquestioned set of presuppo-
sitions that makes it difficult to investigate the historical linkage
between sovereignty and knowledge without lapsing into either
presentism or finalism.
A possible way to avoid the problems posed by the silent suprahisto-
ricity of contextualist history would be traditional conceptual history,
an approach to which this study is greatly indebted in the way it
formulates historical research problems. However, as should be
obvious to the careful reader of my episodical narrative, single con-
cepts are tied up in a web of relationships to other, temporally and
logically simultaneous concepts. Whereas a conceptual history is able
to make sense of the actual function of each such concept within a
larger system, it does not explicitly deal with their conditions of
possibility or their multiple relationships within that larger discourse.
Now the study of such systems or discourses has been the preroga-
tive of a structuralist history of ideas, but with the unwelcome side-
effect that these discursive wholes risk becoming closed entities, the
transition between which it is hard to account for. As I hope to have
conveyed both in chapter 3 and in the historical parts of my argument,
things are more complex indeed. Whereas we can identify regularities
and correlations between statements within a given period, there is
always a limit and a battlefront, moments of corrosion and fights over
truth. To paraphrase Veyne's metaphor: we do not inhabit glass bowls,
but are surrounded by semi-permeable membranes which separate us
from our past and our future.
So much for methodological precepts; what has happened to the
concept of sovereignty?
In chapter 2, I first attempted to demonstrate that the concept of
sovereignty - however opaque it may appear to a conceptual analysis
- constitutes the unthought foundation of two empirical discourses:
international political theory and macrosociology. Second, as I con-
tinued to argue, the position of the concept of sovereignty within each
of these discourses is firmly connected to their scientific aspirations,
their very separation being conditioned by a corresponding duality
238
The end of sovereignty?
inherent in the modern concept of sovereignty, since each science

takes one aspect of this duality as foundation of its inquiry. Third, as I
have argued, this duality also makes it difficult to speak of sovereignty
as something existing outside knowledge, or as something ontologi-
cally independent of the political spheres it constitutes as separate
within political knowledge. Finding a logical equivalent within aes-
thetic discourse, I compared the problem of sovereignty with the
problem of the parergonal frame; that which constitutes two classes of
phenomena as distinct cannot itself be a member of any of these
classes.
To deconstruct a concept is to demonstrate that it is contingent upon
the text in which it figures. One way to summarize the findings of
chapter 2 is to say that sovereignty should be understood as something
contingent upon the entire system of concepts which is constitutive of
our political reality as well as of our understanding of it, and that this
system in its turn is contingent upon the concept of sovereignty.
Sovereignty brings order to political reality by dividing it into two
distinct spheres of thought and action that nevertheless imply each
other, and opens these up to empirical investigation and ethical
deliberation. It is constitutive of the very practice of political question-
ing, and regulative of the methods employed in the practice of
answering.
To say that sovereignty is contingent is to say that it is not necessary
or essential, but that its central and ambiguous place in modern
political discourse is the outcome of prior accidents. To say that
sovereignty is neither necessary nor essential is to say that we have to
account for its place in modern political discourse in order to explain
how and why the concept took on a necessary and essential character
within it. However, because sovereignty is rigorously interlinked with
the foundations of modern political knowledge, it cannot easily be
disentangled and analysed; because sovereignty is so profoundly
involved in the naturalization and reification of political reality, it is a
difficult object of political knowledge. Indeed, to the extent that sover-
eignty constitutes the unthought foundation of political knowledge, it
is beyond the scope of that knowledge. Thus, a historical investigation
has to account for the formation of this linkage by phrasing the
question how did we get here?
In order to be able to answer this question, I undertook a methodo-
logical detour. Finding textual support in Nietzsche and Foucault, my
main conclusion was that if one ventures to write a history of sover-
239
eignty and knowledge, this history must be genealogical in the sense

of being effective, episodical and exemplary. We must now turn to the
outcome of this investigation.
Changing knowledges
First, and as I said in chapter 1, knowledge exists through differenti-
ation. In order to become a system for the formation of valid state-
ments, knowledge must demarcate itself from what it is not, and must
furnish criteria which permit one to distinguish the valid from the
invalid. The topic of sovereignty is invariably involved in this process
through the relations of supplementation, articulation and duplication
which it entertains with knowledge in its formative stages.
In the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance, there was no unified
and autonomous discourse on sovereignty. Instead, we found an array
of conceptual antecedents or paradigms of rulership, which were
supplemented, sustained, legitimized and duplicated in an ever-
proliferating chain of analogies and allegories running throughout the
Christian universe and binding it together. Later, these conceptual
antecedents were gradually soaked up and articulated within a
general theory of the state. This general theory of the state, formed
under the twin pressures of time and nominalism, was systematically
sustained by resemblance and validated by exempla. What was outside
the scope of the general theory of the state was also outside political
knowledge; what was outside the scope of authority was also outside
the scope of understanding. Therefore, in the Renaissance, the same
set of presuppositions which made the conditions of rulership and
statehood knowable also set a limit to political understanding. In their
efforts to cope with the forces of particularism and contingency,
Machiavelli, More and Vitoria all faced this limit, each of them
responding differently but quite unsuccessfully to it.
In chapter 5, we saw how this mode of knowing gradually was
brushed aside by the beginning of the Classical Age, and replaced with
a political knowledge that reflected the concerns of the scientific
revolution. Resemblance and exempla became associated with super-
stition, rhetoric and war, yet they remained active at the level of
pre-understanding. But at the core of political knowledge we were
able to witness the emergence of an autonomous discourse on sover-
eignty, firmly centred on its indivisibility and the particularity of states,
and systematically supplemented by and articulated within a know-
240
ledge governed by the mathesis and the analysis of representations. At

the apex of this construct, we found the sovereign, the condition of
representation as well as of political order. Within this knowledge,
what could not be represented or tabulated did not exist; we found an
analysis of interest, analytically differentiating between particular
states, and comparing them according to a determined set of variables.
This analysis of interest was validated through relations of duplication
between what is represented and what represents.
With the coming of modernity, however, this arrangement is pro-
foundly reorganized. As we saw in chapter 6, the political and social
worlds acquire a new dimension. Man enters knowledge as its sover-
eign source, as an active subject vested with constructive powers. The
political and social worlds take on depth and become thoroughly
historicized; political and social beings become surface manifestations
of hidden forces and long chronologies, and are investigated with
respect to their historicity and dialectical interrelationships. Sover-
eignty, retaining its logic of indivisibility, becomes an organizing prin-
ciple of political reality as well as of our understanding of it, a principle
that divides political reality into ethically opposed domains that never-
theless implicate each other. The state becomes conceptualized as a
whole, capable of assimilating political and social differences into one
form, held together by an array of analogical relationships which
mediates between the universal and the particular, and between
subject and object. What now is outside knowledge is opinion and
ideology; what is inside knowledge is brought under the sway of
epistemic foundations.
Changing realities
My second point was that knowledge, understood as differentiation,
implies decisions on ontology. What exists and what does not exist
must be decided within a knowledge in order for it to be able to
discriminate between true and false propositions.
In the late Middle Ages, we saw how the beings once so real to
Christian myth are successively drained of reality, and replaced by
beings wholly or partly anomalous to it. Politically, this meant that the
mimetic paradigm of rulership, in which the legitimacy of a ruler
derives from his resemblance to Christ or God, gradually gives way to
law-centred or polity-centred versions of rulership. At the same time,
however, other theological concepts and insignia are invested with
242
new meaning as continuous and universal beings, and come to signify

permanent rulership and statehood as a result of mutations in the
concept of time. By the same token, the emergent political nominalism
permits the body politic to enjoy an independent existence within the
framework of universalist assumptions. Through its particular juxta-
position of universalism and particularism, the general theory of the
state gives reality to the state as a container of mythical power and
virtue, but only insofar as it remains inscribed within and articulated
against a universalist backdrop, coexistent with Christianity as a
whole. What exists is the state as a general mode of political being.
Machiavelli's troubled attempt at innovation, More's Utopian revival of
Christian ethics and Vitoria's inability to disentangle the state from
divine law all bear witness to this. In the Renaissance, particularity
resides in the practices of political reflection and deliberation that are
made possible by resemblance and exempla.
In the Classical Age, the universalist backdrop remains a living
reality to natural law and to Utopian literature, but the emergence of
an analysis of particular states and their interests for a moment gives
nominalism the upper hand in the discourse on actual states. Thus,
what primarily exists in the Classical Age are individual states as
containers of calculable resources and predictable interests, their exist-
ence being conditioned by the presence of sovereigns within them. If
there is an aspect of universality, this aspect is to be found in the shape
of a tabulated order, a taxonomy of states whose interrelationships are
governed by interest and expressed in the concrete and knowledgea-
ble practices of classical diplomacy, practices which themselves are
conditioned by the mathesis and language as a matrix of represen-
tation. In the Classical Age, what is universal are the rules of the new
science.
With modernity, this two-dimensional simplicity vanishes. Modern
political knowledge is a knowledge of organized and historicized
political beings; man, occupying the dual position of active subject and
knowable object simultaneously, replaces the king as the source of
knowledge as well as the locus of sovereignty. In the process, the state
is constituted as whole in and for itself, assimilating all prior social and
cultural differences between communities, by, so to speak, nationaliz-
ing them. The state becomes doubly abstract, disconnected from ruler
as well as from ruled, yet dependent on mediation or the equivalence
between them. Thus, the modern sovereign state is composed by an
array of self-subsistent analogical relationships, drawing together and
242
mediating between the internal aspects of particularity and universa-

lity, between subjectivity and objectivity. But, being constituted out of
conflict between the forces of history, the sovereign state can only
transpose these conflicts to a new sphere of political reality: the
international system.
Changing estrangements
If knowledge differentiates itself from what it is not, and separates the
true from the false and the present from the absent, it also differen-
tiates between ethical identities: who is Same, and who is Other?
From the late Middle Ages up to the Renaissance, we are able to
discern how this ethical differentiation gradually becomes more
complex, as it evolves out of man's estrangement from the Christian
God. What is Other to the Middle Ages is the infidel and reminiscences
of the pagan culture which went before it; what gradually becomes
Other to the Renaissance are the beings and forces, that are released
through the recovery of pagan antiquity, that are discovered afresh
overseas, or that emerge from within political knowledge itself, such as
particularity and contingency, for example. These beings and forces -
the American Indian, the elusive paths of Fortuna, or, the process of
political fragmentation taking place from within - are not Other to
Christianity by virtue of being its enemies, but by virtue of being
radically foreign to it, and therefore difficult to comprehend.
During the classical period, the political world suddenly seems to
contract. What is Other to the classical writers is above all to be found
within the prehistory of civil and religious wars which it appropriates
itself and reinscribes as a fictitious state of nature into the justificatory
accounts of sovereignty. The paradigmatic form of Otherness is no
longer what is strange or beyond comprehension, but what is ever
present both as an enemy to, and therefore also as a justification of, the
absolutist state, such as civil war and internal discord. Secondarily,
however, this threat perception is spatialized and projected outwards
as a means of securing the identity of the Same. Thus, between states
we can expect mutual estrangement as well as mutual recognition;
what is Other to every particular state is a specific state or a variable
pattern of alliances between other particular states, which, according
to the distribution of wealth and power between them, determine the
relative level of enmity and friendship within every specific constell-
ation of states.
243
With modernity, ethical differentiation takes on a new complexity.
Above all, what now is Other to the state is not primarily contained in
its own prehistory, but temporally simultaneous yet spatially distinct
from it. If the modern state emerges out of a dialectic of historical
forces, it also transposes otherness to a place not only outside itself, but
to a sphere ontologically over and above itself. First, in the dimension
of enmity, the Other of the modern state is to be found in the inter-
national system, and in the violent practices it engenders or necessi-
tates. The international system is partly obstructive of efficient reform
and transcendence, yet simultaneously it is the condition of possibility
of the sameness of the modern state, and the animating force behind
its Utopian promise and its efforts at transcendence. Second, in the
dimension of strangeness, the international system is from its emer-
gence estranged from the external arena of other cultures; modern
sovereignty is prophesied to expand and turn all strangers into inher-
ent adversaries within a world-system. Thus, ethically, modern sover-
eignty is profoundly paradoxical, since it contains both a prophecy of
interstate anarchy and a promise of cosmopolitan redemption in
which the international itself vanishes in favour of global dom-
estication.
Changing histories
If knowledge implies decisions on ontology and ethical identity, it also
furnishes beings with a past, a present and a future, safeguarding them
from the corrosive influence of time and contingency.
In the Middle Ages, time signifies the transitoriness of earthly exist-
ence. If there is history, this history is laid down in a providential plan,
beginning with the creation of the world and ending with Judgement
Day. First, Augustinian time is psychological or subjective time, signi-
fying man's separation from divine eternity and the dissimilitude and
discord that characterizes his earthly condition. Through the troubled
reception and gradual acceptance of Aristotelian and cosmological
time, the possibility of historical change is opened up to theological
and legal discourse; change becomes modelled on the patterns of
cyclical movements displayed by natural phenomena. Change is pos-
sible, but brings nothing new under the sun; constitutions dissolve and
are replaced, but the pattern of their succession cannot itself be trans-
gressed. Second, and as a consequence, an alien past as well as present
identity can be appropriated and textualized by means of exempla. It
244
becomes possible to learn from the past, and use this learning as a
guide to future action as if history repeated itself indefinitely; the state
and the conditions of ruling are released from the singularity of
Christian myth, and are understood as continuous with other political
beings - documentary or legendary - on the basis of their formal
resemblance with them. Third, within the general theory of the state,
all states share a common history precisely by virtue of its being
general, and their common history is plural by virtue of the multipli-
city of episodes and examples laid down in one vast text of the world.
In the Classical Age, histories constructed on the basis of exempla
and resemblance are replaced by histories structured by the demands
of the mathesis, which is superimposed upon exemplary historiogra-
phy. First, time retains its basic cyclical character, and if there is
linearity, it is in the form of dynastic succession. Second, the past of a
particular state is reconstructed on the basis of principles which also
provide this particular state with a present identity independent of its
place within a more general framework; these principles are them-
selves immutable and without history, and thus treated as universally
and transhistorically valid. Third, within the analysis of interest, each
particular state has a history of its own resulting from all its prior
interactions with other particular states, and each of these histories
serves as a clue to its present identity as well as to its future fate within
the table of states; its position within the table can change, but the table
itself cannot.
With modernity, history is no longer multiple and external to words
and things. It becomes integral to the very being of things, and
simultaneously singular; histories about beings are replaced by History
as a mode of being. First, historical time is no longer cyclical, but
opened up to the future, understood as revolutionary progress.
Through history, man, language, nation and state take on identity and
become intelligible as the outcome of conflicts between historical
forces. Second, history constitutes the fertile ground from which the
social sciences can emerge, each devoted to a specific empirical domain
singled out by history. Third, through modern history, the sovereign
state and the international system are constituted to implicate each
other as opposed domains of political reality, each knowable from one
of the two vantage points that correspond to the dual face of the
concept of sovereignty. Through modern history, both the state and
the international are constituted together with their past; expansion
and transcendence are predicated about their future.
245
The end of sovereignty

How are we to interpret these developments? Certainly, they do not
lend themselves to simple interpretations in terms of progress or
decay, since the metahistorical plots of progress and decay themselves
are part of this story. Interpreted from the vantage point of nostalgia,
the above genealogy would indicate a fall from the primordial beauty
of Christian unity, whereas interpreted from the vantage point of a
modernized historical process, it would look like a progressive series,
in which man becomes the master of his own political destiny by
emancipating himself from dogma and superstition.
Interpreted as transformations in the conditions by which know-
ledge constitutes itself through differentiation, the genealogical series
appears as a more or less random succession of discursive and episte-
mic events, grouped together into incommensurable periods or
systems for the formation of statements, that succeed each other as the
result of rhetorical battles over truth and being. There would be no
hidden eschatology or suprahistorical regularity in this random
succession; no meaning, just pure contingency. The question how did
we get here, in which by here is meant our specific late-modern fusion of
sovereignty and knowledge within the regional context of empirical
political science, would then be given a most prosaic answer, like the
questions of how we came to wear the kind of clothes we are wearing,
or how we came to eat the kind of food we are eating.
Thus interpreted, the simultaneous rise of the modern sovereign
state and the international system within political knowledge would
appear quite accidental, as a result of more general and fairly recent
mutations in knowledge. There would be no hidden meaning behind
their emergence on the surface of empirical objects more than the
meaning imputed to these constructs by the specific past and future
attached to them when they were invented.
That is, we got stuck with our parergonal notion of sovereignty and
the dualities it entails within our political understanding, not as the
result of any immanent logical necessity in history or in the develop-
ment of political thought, but as the result of the cumulate con-
sequences of random mutations in the conditions of knowledge. The
modern notion of sovereignty does not result from the fulfilment of
Enlightenment promises of revolution and emancipation, nor from the
failure to realize these promises. Nor is the modern concept of sover-
eignty singularly reducible to the organic thought of historicism;
246
rather, it emerges as the unintended consequence of the clash between

the core concepts and forces of modern knowledge, between the a
priori and the a posteriori, between the empirical and the transcenden-
tal, between subject and object, between the universal and the par-
ticular, between philosophy and history, between finalist dialectic and
presentist historiography, between Man and his Other.
When sovereignty and knowledge are interpreted in isolation
within the regional discourses and over the span of time investigated
in this book, their episodic configuration looks highly discontinuous.
But interpreted together, and inscribed within a genealogical series in
which the conditions of knowing are productively interlinked with
discourses on rulership and sovereignty, their discontinuity is counter-
balanced by a certain thematic continuity. Concepts may vary as to
their meaning and function, yet their interrelations - for all their
indeterminateness and openness - seem to remain intact in their most
abstract form. Thus interpreted, the periods exemplified in this study
appear as sedimentary in our political understanding, together consti-
tuting something - not despite, but rather by virtue of its immanent
plurality - which would merit the label of tradition.
Within this tradition, sovereignty does not merely mean different
things during different periods, function differently within different
epistemic arrangements, or that it is something altogether different
from time to time; rather, the topic of sovereignty - the concept of
sovereignty as opened to definitional change across time - is so rigor-
ously intertwined with the conditions of knowing, that we could
inductively expect a change in the former to go hand in hand with a
change in the latter even in the future, if indeed there is one.
If this is true, and even if we take due caution against overinter-
preting, we could perhaps expect the imminent dissolution of our
topic. If the foundations of modern knowledge today appear as shaky
as political reality itself, and are questioned from many points simul-
taneously, we should not expect sovereignty to remain unaffected in
its ability to organize modern political reality into the two distinct
spheres of the domestic and the international. By the same token, we
should not expect modern political science to be able to deal consisten-
tly with a political reality in which the parergonal divide between the
domestic and the international spheres is increasingly blurred. I say
'deal consistently'; it is not that political science becomes null and void
in the absence of a parergon which permits it to classify its phenomena
according to what is inside and what is outside the state, but the
247
identification of objects of investigation is bound to be less self-evident

and more laborious than before, at the same time as broad syntheses
within the field are called for.1 Precisely this loss of parergonality is the
destructive upshot of critical international political theory today; the
insight that modern knowledge has man as its privileged foundation,
and that this foundation is as contingent as the modern subject itself
makes the fact of sovereignty less self-evident and all the more fragile,
but it does not do what earlier versions of epistemic and ontological
criticism did; it does not tell us where to go from here, neither as
political scientists nor as citizens. It proclaims modernity an absurd
dream from which we are about to escape, but it does not tell us what
to do with those who never started to dream of progress and tran-
scendence, but who have nourished themselves on the exported posi-
tivity of revolution and war, and now are knocking on the door of
what to some appears as the post-historical world. Critical theory
rephrases universalist questions and reclaims epistemic sovereignty,
but cannot answer the questions of where to locate it, who we are, who
is Other to us, and where we are heading.
So where do we go from here? I began this book by stating that
knowledge is political, and that politics is based on knowledge. I
should end it by observing that if epistemic change is essentially
political, it also involves the political responsibility of deciding upon
sovereignty, a decision which we for the moment seem unfit to make.
248
Notes
1 Introduction: sovereignty and fire

1 Zygmunt Baumann, 'Modernity and Ambivalence', Theory, Culture &
Society, vol. 7,1990 (SAGE Publications, London), passim.
2 Gaston Bachelard, The Psychoanalysis of Fire (1938) trans, by A.C.M. Ross
(London, 1987: Quartet Books).
3 A similar procedure lies at the heart of Begriffsgeschichte, see Reinhart
Koselleck, 'Begriffsgeschichte and Social History', in Futures Past: On the
Semantics of Historical Time, (Boston, 1985: MIT Press) pp. 73-91.
4 Cf. John Keane, 'More Theses on the Philosophy of History', in J. Tully, ed:
Meaning and Context: Quentin Skinner and His Critics (Cambridge, 1988:
Polity Press) p. 214.
5 Cf. Francis H. Hinsley, Sovereignty (Cambridge, 1986: Cambridge University
Press), Robert A. Klein, Sovereign Equality Among States: The History of an Idea
(Toronto, 1974: University of Toronto Press). Older full-scale studies
include Charles E. Merriam, History of the Theory of Sovereignty Since
Rousseau (New York, 1900: Columbia University Press).
6 Paul Ricoeur, Time and Narrative, vol. 3, (Chicago, 1988: University of
Chicago Press), pp. 241ff.
7 Cf. Carl Schmitt, Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty,
(Boston, 1985: MIT Press) p. 2.
8 Aristotle, Rhetorics, (London, 1947: Heinemann), book II, xxv. 8.
9 Cf. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Judgment, Bernard (New York, 1951: Hafner),
p. 16 where he develops the idea of reflective judgement.
2 The problem: deconstructing sovereignty

1 For the centrality of the concept of sovereignty in modern political science,
see for example: Anthony Giddens, The Constitution of Society (Cambridge,
1984: Polity Press), p. xxxiii; A. Giddens, The Nation-State and Violence
(Cambridge, 1985: Polity Press), pp. 198f, 281f; R.B.J. Walker, 'Sovereignty,
Identity, Community: Reflections on the Horizons of Contemporary
249
Notes to pages 12-17
Political Practice' in R.BJ. Walker & S. Mendlovitz, eds., Contending Sover-

eignties: Redefining Political Community (Boulder, 1990: Lynne) pp. 159-60;
Robert H. Jackson, 'Quasi-States, Dual regimes, and Neoclassical Theory:
International Jurisprudence and the Third World', International Organi-
zation, vol. 41, Fall 1987, p. 519; R.B.J. Walker, Inside/Outside: International
Relations as Political Theory (Cambridge, 1993: Cambridge University Press),
esp. pp. 1-25.
2 See for example W.J. Stankiewicz, 'In Defence of Sovereignty: A Critique
and an Interpretation', in W.J. Stankiewicz, ed., In Defence of Sovereignty
(London, 1969: Oxford University Press), pp. 1-38; Christopher Brewin,
'Sovereignty', in James Mayall, ed., The Community of States: A Study in
International Political Theory (London, 1982: Allen & Unwin), Nicolas Green-
wood Onuf, 'Sovereignty: Outline of a Conceptual History', Alternatives,
vol. 16, 1990; James Rosenau, 'Sovereignty in a Turbulent World', paper
presented at the conference on sovereignty and collective intervention,
Hanover, N.H., May 1992, pp. 1-4.
3 E.H. Carr, The Twenty Years Crisis 1919-1939 (London, 1978: Macmillan) pp.
230-1.
4 Stanley I. Benn, 'The Uses of Sovereignty', Political Studies, vol. 3,1955, no. 2.
5 F. Nietzsche, '"Guilt", "Bad Conscience" and the Like' in On the Genealogy
of Morals, (New York, 1969: Vintage), p. 80.
6 Hinsley, attempting a history of sovereignty, nevertheless starts out from a
definition of it, see F.H. Hinsley, Sovereignty (Cambridge, 1986: Cambridge
University Press) p. 26.
7 Nietzsche,' "Guilt", "Bad Conscience" and the Like', p. 80.
8 For a critical analysis, see Richard Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature
(Oxford, 1980: Basil Blackwell), chs. 3-4.
9 Hans Kelsen, 'Sovereignty and International Law', in Stankiewicz, ed., In
Defence of Sovereignty, p. 119.
10 See for example the analysis by Carl Schmitt, Political Theology: Four Chapters
on the Concept of Sovereignty (Boston, 1985. MIT Press), ch. 1 in which this
problematic distinction between a legal and a sociological understanding of
sovereignty is discussed.
11 See W.B. Gallie, 'Essentially Contested Concepts', in Max Black, ed., The
Importance of Language (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1962: Prentice-Hall); William
O. Connolly, The Terms of Political Discourse (Oxford, 1983: Martin Robertson).
12 Alan James, Sovereign Statehood (London, 1986: Allen & Unwin) p. 83.
13 Hinsley, Sovereignty p. 158.
14 Giddens, The Nation-State and Violence, p. 281.
15 John Gerard Ruggie, 'Continuity and Transformation in the World Polity',
in Robert O. Keohane, ed., Neorealism and its Critics (New York, 1986:
Columbia University Press), p. 144.
16 Friedrich KratochwU/Of Systems, Boundaries, and Territoriality: An Inquiry
into the Formation of the State System', World Politics, vol. 39,1986, no. 1.
17 Alexander Wendt, 'The Agent-Structure Problem in International Relations
Theory', International Organization, vol. 41,1987, no. 3, p. 357; David Dessler,
250
'What's at Stake in the Agent-Structure Debate?', International Organization,

vol. 43,1989, no. 3, p. 469.
18 Richard K. Ashley, 'The Geopolitics of Geopolitical Space: Toward a Critical
Social Theory of International Polities', Alternatives, vol. 12,1987, pp. 412-15;
Cynthia Weber, 'Reconsidering Statehood: Examining the Sovereignty/
Intervention Boundary', Review of International Studies, vol. 18,1992.
19 Richard K. Ashley, & R.B.J. Walker, 'Speaking the Language of Exile:
Dissident Thought in International Relations', International Studies Quar-
terly, vol. 34,1990, p. 267.
20 Cf. Richard Ashley, 'Untying the Sovereign State: A Double Reading of the
Anarchy Probl6matique', Millennium, vol. 17,1988, no. 2.
21 It has been disputed whether we are entitled to talk of exemplars in
political science. To Thomas Kuhn (The Structure of Scientific Revolutions,
Chicago, 1962: Chicago University Press, pp. lOff), the emergence of exemp-
lars is a sign of scientific maturity within a field of knowledge, a condition
which to some is lacking in political science. Be that as it may: an exemplar
is a textbook - elementary or advanced - which both reflects and repro-
duces scientific consensus within a field, by (a) defining its ontology; (b)
outlining criteria of validity and methods for verification; and (c) identi-
fying research problems and techniques for their solution. In short, exemp-
lars define what is problematic and what is unproblematic within a field of
knowledge. See also Michel Foucault, Archaeology of Knowledge (New York,
1972: Pantheon) pp. 178ff.
22 Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, (Baltimore & London, 1974: Johns
Hopkins) pp. 24-33; Jacques Derrida, 'Structure, Sign and Play in the
Discourse of the Human Sciences' in Writing and Difference (London, 1978:
Routledge) pp. 278ff; Jacques Derrida, Positions (Chicago, 1981: University
of Chicago Press) p. 41. See also Jonathan Culler, On Deconstruction: Theory
and Criticism after Structuralism (London, 1983: Routledge), pp. 85ff.
23 Derrida, Positions, p. 6.
24 Jacques Derrida, 'Signature, Event, Context' in Margins of Philosophy
(Brighton, 1982: Harvester) p. 328.
25 Culler, On Deconstruction, p. 150.
26 When I speak of international political theory or the discourse on inter-
national politics, I speak of what I take to be its core assumptions, the unity
behind the lack of overall theoretical coherence in the field. My sample of
texts has been confined to the post-war period, a period crucial to the
scientification and autonomy of international relations. Throughout, I have
been guided by an eye to their sociological impact within the field, relying
on textbook versions of intradisciplinary development (Hedley Bull, 'The
Theory of International Politics 1919-1969'; W. Olson, 'The Growth of a
Discipline', both in B. Porter, ed., The Aberystzvyth Papers (London, 1972:
Oxford University Press); W. Olson, & N. Onuf, 'The Growth of a Disci-
pline: Reviewed', in S. Smith, ed., International Relations: British and American
Perspectives (Oxford, 1985: Basil Blackwell)) as well as attempts to explain
the production of knowledge within the field, as J. Vasquez, The Power of
251
Power Politics (London, 1983: Frances Pinter). From a genealogical perspec-

tive, most of these 'histories' appear as complacent hagiography: but this is
precisely to the point, since what matters here is what the discipline thinks
of itself.
Much can be said about the representativeness of the texts chosen. They
are not intended to be representative of the entire field of knowledge, but
of 'the big ones', and thus of the changing consensus within the field. Not
surprisingly, the sociological basis of choice tends to favour 'political real-
ists'. I have consistently avoided this label, since I partly agree with Kjell
Goldmann, 'The Concept of Realism as a Source of Confusion', Cooperation
and Conflict, vol. 23,1988. However, the fact that traditions cannot be tested
should not exclude the concept from historical analysis: as I argue in
chapter 6 below, the birth of international relations is epistemically insepar-
able from what we loosely call 'realism'.
When it comes to texts on macrosociology, sampling skates on thin ice
but is not altogether arbitrary. First, my concern has been with texts that are
explicitly concerned with state formation in general, leaving out empirical
studies of particular states. Second, I have focused on the conflict tradition
in macrosociology, which seems to be dominant: the theoretical influence
of Marx, Weber and Hintze is still pervasive. Thus, the 'cooperative' tradi-
tion has been neglected in my choice of examples, partly due to its small
influence, partly because it does not matter logically to my deconstructive
argument whether the state is seen as the result of human conflict or
human cooperation, since in either case an 'outside' must be invoked, albeit
with different rules of transformation. For an example of 'cooperative'
theories of the state, see E.R. Service, Origins of State and Civilization (New
York, 1975: Norton).
27 Derrida, Of Grammatology, p. 158.
28 B. Andrews, 'Social Rules and the State as a Political Actor', World Politics,
vol. 27,1975, no. 4; M. Wright, 'Central but Ambiguous: States and Inter-
national Theory', Review of International Studies, vol. 10,1984; Fred Halliday,
'State and Society in International Relations: A Second Agenda', in H.C.
Dyer, & L. Mangasarian, eds., The Study of International Relations (London,
1989: Macmillan).
29 Raymond Aron, Peace and War: A Theory of International Relations (London,
1966: Weidenfeld & Nicolson), p. 8.
30 Aron, Peace and War, p. 51.
31 See for example Robert O. Keohane, & Joseph. S. Nye, Power and Inter-
dependence: World Politics in Transition (Boston & Toronto, 1977: Little,
Brown).
32 This view is also held by some historians and sociologists, see for example
J. R. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State (Princeton, 1970:
Princeton University Press), p. 108; Gianfranco Poggi, The Development of the
Modern State: A Sociological Introduction (London, 1978: Hutchinson).
33 Martin Wight, Power Politics, ed. H. Bull & C. Holbraad (Leicester, 1978:
Leicester University Press), p. 25.
252
34 Hans Morgenthau,Politics Among Nations (New York, 1985: Knopf) pp.328-9.

36 Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics
(London, 1977: Macmillan), p. 8.
37 Kenneth N. Waltz, 'Reductionist and Systemic Theories' in Keohane, Neo-
realism and Its Critics, p. 53.
38 Waltz, 'Political Structures', p. 83, in Keohane, Neorealism.
39 Ibid., p. 90.
40 Ibid., p. 87.
41 Kenneth N. Waltz, Man, the State, and War: A Theoretical Analysis (New York,
1959: University of Columbia Press), pp. 227-8.
43 Stanley Hoffmann, The State of War: Essays on the Theory and Practice of
International Relations (New York, 1965: Praeger), p. 13.
44 Aron, War and Peace, p. 6.
45 Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, p. 38.
46 John Herz, Political Realism and Political Idealism: A Study in Theories and
Realities (Chicago, 1951: University of Chicago Press), pp. 2-16; Waltz, Man,
the State, and War, p. 238.
47 Waltz, 'Anarchic Orders and Balances of Power', p. 110.
49 Ibid., p. 342.
50 Ibid.
51 Cf. Alfons Sollner, 'German Conservatism in America: Morgenthau's Poli-
tical Realism', Telos, no. 72,1987.
53 Waltz, Man, the State, and War, p. 73.
54 Ibid., p. 178.
55 Ibid.
57 Ibid., p. 750.
58 Bull, The Anarchical Society, p. 35.
59 Waltz, 'Political Structures', p. 73; Waltz, 'Anarchic Orders and Balances of
Power', pp. I l l , 130 n2.
60 Cf. K.H.F. Dyson, The State Tradition in Western Europe (Oxford, 1980: Martin
Robertson), pp. 137f; Andrew Vincent, Theories of the State (Oxford, 1987:
Basil BlackweU), pp. 47ff, 181ff.
61 Bull, The Anarchical Society, p. 8.
63 John Herz, International Relations in the Atomic Age (New York, 1959) p. 58.
64 Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, p. 355; Herz, International Relations in
the Atomic Age, p. 40.
65 Waltz, 'Political Structures', p. 90; Waltz, 'Anarchic Orders and Balances of
Power', p. 100; James, Sovereign Statehood, pp. 171ff, 196ff.
66 Aron, Peace and War, pp. 182ff.
67 Wight, Power Politics, p. 25.
253

69 Waltz, Man, the State, and War, p. 177.
71 Ibid., p. 295.
72 Waltz, 'Political Structures', pp. 91ff.
73 Waltz, 'Anarchic Orders and Balances of Power', pp. 112-15.
74 Ibid., pp. 110-11.
75 Robert Cox, 'Social Forces, States, and World Orders' in Keohane, Neorealism
and Us Critics, pp. 219ff; Ruggie, 'Continuity and Transformation', p. 142;
Barry Buzan, 'Rethinking System and Structure', in B. Buzan, C. Jones, & R.
Little, The Logic of Anarchy: From Neorealism to Structural Realism (New York,
1993: Columbia University Press), pp. 38-43; Morgenthau, Politics Among
Nations, p. 5.
77 Ibid., p. 10.
78 Cf. Randall Collins, Sociology Since Mid-Century: Essays in Theory Cumulation
(New York, 1981: Academic Press), p. 4; Theda Skocpol, 'Bringing the State
Back In: Strategies of Analysis in Current Research' in P. Evans, et al.,
Bringing the State Back In (Cambridge, 1985), pp. 3ff; see also, M. Carnoy, The
State and Political Theory (Princeton, 1984: Princeton University Press).
79 Cf. Randall Collins, Three Sociological Traditions (New York, 1980: Oxford
University Press).
80 Friedrich Engels, The Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State
(London, 1972: Lawrence and Wishart) p. 229.
81 Max Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, ed. G.
Roth & C. Wittich (New York, 1968: Bedminster Press), vol. 2, pp. 904-5.
82 Weber, Economy and Society, vol. 2, pp. 901-2.
83 Ibid., p. 905.
84 Norbert Elias, Power and Civility: The Civilizing Process, vol. 2 (New York,
1982: Pantheon), p. 99.
85 Otto Hintze, 'The State in Historical Perspective', in R. Bendix, ed., State and
Society (Berkeley, 1968: University of California Press), p. 156.
86 Charles Tilly, 'Reflections on the History of European State-Making' in C.
Tilly, ed., The Formation of National States in Western Europe (Princeton, 1975:
Princeton University Press), p. 28.
87 Collins, Sociology since Mid-Century, p. 4.
88 Skocpol, 'Bringing the State Back In', p. 8.
89 Charles Tilly, 'Western State-Making and Theories of Political Trans-
formation' in Tilly, The Formation of National States, p. 635.
90 Elias, Power and Civility, passim.
91 See for example Theda Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions: A Comparative
Analysis of France, Russia, and China (Cambridge, 1979: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press); Immanuel Wallerstein, 'The Rise and the Future Demise of the
World Capitalist System: Concepts for Comparative Analysis', Comparative
Studies in Society and History, vol. 16,1974.
254
92 Tilly, 'Reflections', p. 27; Collins, Sociology Since Mid-Century, p. 71; H.J.M.

Claessen, & P. Skalnik, 'The Early State: Theories and Hypotheses' in
H.J.M. Claessen & P. Skalnik, eds., The Early State (The Hague, 1978:
Mouton), p. 17.
93 Tilly, 'Reflections', p. 27; Collins, Sociology Since Mid-Century, p. 71;
Claessen, & Skalnik, 'The Early State', p. 17.
94 Claessen & Skalnik, 'The Early State', p. 18.
95 Tilly, 'Reflections', p. 19.
96 See for example Perry Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist State (London,
1974: New Left Books), passim; Perry Anderson, PassagesfromAntiquity to
Feudalism (London, 1974: New Left Books), passim.
97 Elias, Power and Civility, p. 95.
98 Tilly, 'Reflections', p. 78; Poggi, The Development of the Modern State, p. 93;
R. Cohen, 'State Origins: A Reappraisal' in Claessen & Skalnik, The Early
State, pp. 60-7; Collins, Sociology Since Mid-Century, p. 77; Cordelia Navari,
'The Origins of the Nation-State' in L. Tivey, ed., The Nation-State: The
Formation of Modern Politics (Oxford, 1981: Martin Robertson), pp. 31ff.
99 Wendt, 'The Agent-Structure Problem'; Dessler, 'What's at Stake'; A.
Wendt, & R. Duvall, 'Institutions and International Order* in CO. Czem-
piel & J.N. Rosenau, eds., Global Changes and Theoretical Challenges (Lexing-
ton, 1989: Lexington Books).
100 Wendt, 'The Agent-Structure Problem', pp. 355ff.
101 Ibid.; Dessler, 'What's at Stake'; A. Wendt, & R. Duvall, 'Institutions and
International Order', in CO. Czempiel & J.N. Rosenau, eds., Global
Changes and Theoretical Challenges (Lexington, 1989: Lexington Books); cf.
also Giddens, The Constitution of Society; Roy Bhaskar, Scientific Realism and
Human Emancipation (London, 1986: Verso).
102 Giddens, The Nation-State and Violence, p. 263.
103 Ibid., pp. 263-4.
104 Ibid., p. 289.
105 Ibid., p. 170.
106 Ibid., pp. 100-3.
107 Ibid., pp. 281-2.
108 Cf. Kjell Goldmann, 'The Line in Water: Domestic and International
Politics: A Discussion Paper', Cooperation and Conflict, vol. 24,1989.
110 Martin Wight, 'Why is there no International Theory?' in M. Wight & H.
Butterfield, eds., Diplomatic Investigations (London, 1966: Allen &
Unwin).
111 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgment, (New York, 1951: Hafner) p. 61.
112 Cf. Jacques Derrida, La verite en peinture (Paris, 1978: Flammarion) p. 93.
113 Ibid., p. 74.
114 Ibid., p. 71.
115 This also has been attempted, albeit from a different perspective, by R.B.J.
Walker, Inside/Outside, pp. 1-25.
255
3 Beyond subject and structure: towards a genealogy of

sovereignty
1 I owe this example to Richard Rorty, Essays on Heidegger and Others,
Philosophical Papers vol. 2 (Cambridge, 1991: Cambridge University Press)
p. 38.
2 F. Nietzsche, 'On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life', Untimely
Meditations (Cambridge, 1983: Cambridge University Press).
3 For an interesting study in historiography, see H. White, Metahistory: The
Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (London & Baltimore,
1973: Johns Hopkins).
4 Cf. J. Dunn, 'The Identity of the History of Ideas' in P. Laslett, ed.,
Philosophy, Politics and Society (Oxford, 1962: Basil Blackwell).
5 Cf. J.G.A. Pocock, 'The Concept of a Language and the Metier d'Historien:
Some Considerations on Practice', Anthony Pagden, ed., The Languages of
Political Theory in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, 1987: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press).
6 Cf. Q. Skinner, 'Meaning and Understanding in the History of Ideas' in
James Tully, ed., Meaning and Context: Quentin Skinner and His Critics
(Cambridge,1988: Polity Press). For a sympathetic criticism of Skinner and
Pocock, see P.L. Janssen, 'Political Thought as Traditionary Action: A
Critical Response to Skinner and Pocock, History and Theory, vol. 24,1985,
no. 1.
7 See for example D. Bloor, Knowledge and Social Imagery (London, 1973:
Routledge); B. Barnes, Scientific Knowledge and Sociological Theory (London,
1974: Routledge); Interests and the Growth of Knowledge (London, 1977:
Routledge); P.T. Manicas, & A. Rosenberg, 'Naturalism, Epistemological
Individualism and "The Strong Programme" in The Sociology of Know-
ledge' and 'The Sociology of Scientific Knowledge: Can We Ever Get It
Straight?', both in Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour, vol. 15,1985, no. 1;
vol. 18,1988, no. 1.
8 A line of criticism similar to my own has been pursued by S. Seidman,
'Beyond Presentism and Historicism: Understanding the History of Social
Science', Sociological Inquiry, vol. 53,1983, no. 1. However, I disagree com-
pletely with his dismissal of Skinner as an historicist, and find his criticism
of him partly misguided.
9 Cf. the discussion by Paul Veyne, Did the Greeks Believe in their Myths? An
Essay on the Constitutive Imagination (Chicago, 1988: University of Chicago
Press), chs. 2-3.
10 G.W.F. Hegel, Elements of the Philosophy of Right (Cambridge, 1991: Cam-
bridge University Press), Preface, p. 23.
11 For an interesting analysis of different answers to the question of why
history is rewritten, see Erik Ringmar, 'Historical Writing and Rewriting:
Gustav II Adolf, the French Revolution, and the Historians', Scandinavian
Journal of History, forthcoming.
256
12 See Karl R. Popper, The Open Society and Its Enemies, vol. 2 (London, 1966:
Routledge) and Karl R. Popper, The Poverty of Historicism (London, 1974:
Routledge). In the latter book, Popper defines historicism as 'an approach
to the social sciences which assumes that historical prediction is their prin-
cipal aim', thus, and ironically, flogging not only the finalist horse but also
the objectivist one.
13 Just to take the worst example: Francis Fukuyama, Have We Reached the End
of History? (Santa Monica, 1989: The RAND Corporation).
14 Although I here give it a wider and perhaps even more pejorative sense,
the term 'whiggish' is Butterfield's. H. Butterfield, The Whig Interpretation of
History (Hammondsworth, 1973: Penguin).
15 I am here indebted to R. Rorty, 'The Historiography of Philosophy: Four
Genres' in R. Rorty, J.B. Schneewind & Q. Skinner, eds., Philosophy in His-
tory: Essays on the Historiography of Philosophy (Cambridge, 1984: Cambridge
University Press).
16 Ringmar, 'Historical Writing and Rewriting', pp. 10-12.
17 For an excellent overview of the criticism directed against finalist history,
see Michael S: Roth, Knowing and History: Appropriations of Hegel in
Twentieth-Century France (Ithaca, 1988: Cornell University Press), esp.
pp. 189-224.
18 The consequences of anti-foundationalism for historiography have been
debated in History and Theory, by F.R. Ankersmit, 'Historiography and
Postmodernism', vol. 28,1989, no. 2, and P. Zagorin, 'Historiography and
Postmodernism: Reconsiderations', vol. 29, 1990 no. 1. See also Robert
Young, White Mythologies (London, 1990: Routledge) and his analysis of
Said and Spivak. The problem of history versus fiction is analogous to that
of philosophy versus literature; see Richard Rorty, 'Deconstruction and
Circumvention' in R. Rorty, Essays on Heidegger and Others, pp. 85-106.
19 On the impact of behaviouralism and the reorientation in historiography,
see J.G. Gunnell, Political Theory: Tradition and Interpretation (Cambridge,
1979: Cambridge University Press), pp. 5ff.
20 The main target of Skinner's criticism is of course Leo Strauss. By describing
Skinner's position, I do not imply that his criticism of Strauss is altogether
fair. In order to understand the sophistication of Strauss's position, see for
example, Leo Strauss, 'Political Philosophy and History', 'What is Political
Philosophy?' in What is Political Philosophy? and Other Studies (Glencoe, 1959:
The Free Press).
21 Skinner, 'Meaning and Understanding', p. 30.
22 I have borrowed the term 'hermeneutics of conflict' from Charles Taylor,
'The Hermeneutics of Conflict' in Tully, ed., Meaning and Context.
24 Ibid., p. 32.
25 Ibid., p. 35.
26 Ibid., p. 44.
27 Ibid., p. 37.
257
28 Ibid., p. 41.
29 F.H. Hinsley, Sovereignty (Cambridge, 1986: Cambridge University Press),
p. 26, passim.
30 Nicolas Greenwood Onuf, 'Sovereignty: Outline of a Conceptual History',
Alternatives, vol. 16,1991.
31 Cf. Michael Donelan, 'Introduction' in M. Donelan, ed., The Reason of States:
A Study in International Political Theory (London, 1977: Allen & Unwin);
Torbjorn L. Knutsen,.A History of International Relations Theory (Manchester,
1992: Manchester University Press), p. 1.
32 Howard Williams, International Relations in Political Theory (Milton Keynes,
1989: Open University Press).
33 Knutsen, A History of International Relations Theory, p. 6.
34 Ibid., p. 6.
35 J.L. Holzgrefe, 'The Origins of Modern International Relations Theory',
Review of International Studies, vol. 15,1989, p. 13.
36 Ibid., p. 22.
38 Q. Skinner, '"Social Meaning" and the Explanation of Social Action' in J.
Tully, ed., Meaning and Context.
39 Jacques Maritain, 'The Concept of Sovereignty' in Stankiewicz, ed., In
Defence of Sovereignty (London, 1969: Oxford University Press), pp. 41-64.
40 Christopher Brewin, 'Sovereignty' in James Mayall, ed., The Community of
States: A Study in International Political Theory (London, 1982: Allen &
Unwin), pp. 39ff.
41 Harold Laski, Reflections on the Revolution in our Time (London, 1943: Allen &
Unwin), p. 206.
42 'It may well be strenuously doubted, however, whether a knowledge of the
causes of an action is really equivalent to an understanding of the action
itself. For as well as - and quite apart from - the fact that such an
understanding does presuppose a grasp of the antecedent causal con-
ditions of the action taking place, it might equally be said to presuppose a
grasp of the point of the action for the agent who performed it' (Skinner,
'Meaning and Understanding', p. 59).
43 Q. Skinner, 'A Reply to my Critics' in Tully, ed.. Meaning and Context.
Skinner's hermeneutic approach should be carefully distinguished from
the kind of hermeneutics advocated by Husserl and Gadamer, and the kind
of primordial identity between subject and object that they are based on.
For a discussion, see A.T. Nuyen, 'Truth, Method, and Objectivity: Husserl
and Gadamer on Scientific Method', Philosophy of the Social Sciences, vol. 20,
1990, no. 4.
44 J. Tully, 'The Pen is a Mighty Sword: Quentin Skinner's Analysis of Politics'
in Tully, ed., Meaning and Context.
45 Skinner, 'Meaning and Understanding', p. 48. A similar position has been
advanced by J.J.E. Gracia, 'Texts and Their Interpretation', Review of Meta-
physics, vol. 43,1990.
258
Notes to pages 62r-70
46 'Any particular belief in which an historian is interested will therefore be

likely to present itself holistically as part of a network of beliefs, a network
within which the various individual items supply each other with mutual
support' (Skinner, 'Reply', p. 248).
47 Skinner, 'Reply', p. 239.
48 Ibid., p. 244.
49 Manicas & Rosenberg, 'Naturalism, Epistemological Individualism', 'The
Sociology of Scientific Knowledge', passim.
50 Skinner, 'Reply' pp. 240-1.
51 Ibid., p. 246.
52 Ibid., p. 247.
53 Ibid., p. 286.
54 Ibid., p. 287.
56 Skinner, 'Reply', p. 287. A similar point was made by Nietzsche: 'For since
we are the outcome of earlier generations, we are also the outcome of their
aberrations, passions and errors, and indeed of their crimes; it is not
possible to free oneself from this chain. If we condemn these aberrations...
this does not alter the fact that we originate in them' (Nietzsche, 'On the
Uses and Disadvantages', p. 76).
57 Skinner, 'Reply/ p. 256.
59 At least Skinner said as much at a seminar at the Swedish Collegium for
Advanced Study in the Social Sciences, held in Uppsala, Sweden in the Fall
of 1990, when forced to comment on the possibility of settling interpretative
disputes rationally.
60 Skinner, 'Reply', pp. 236-8.
61 See Herbert Dreyfus & Paul Rabinow, Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism
and Hermeneutics (Chicago, 1982: The University of Chicago Press) pp. 180-2.
62 Skinner, 'Reply7, p. 266.
63 See J.L. Austin, How to do Things with Words (Oxford, 1962: Oxford Univer-
sity Press). The demand that speech-acts must be serious in intention has
been subjected to damaging criticism by J. Derrida, 'Signature, Event,
Context' in Margins of Philosophy (Sussex, 1982: Harvester), which in turn
provoked an angry exchange between Searle and Derrida in Glyph, vols. 1
& 2,1977.
64 Cf. John Searle, 'Minds, Brains, and Programs', Behavioral and Brain Sciences,
vol. 3,1980, no. 3, pp. 417-24.
65 Quentin Skinner, 'The State' in T. Ball, J. Farr & R.L. Hanson, eds., Political
Innovation and Conceptual Change (Cambridge, 1989: Cambridge University
Press), pp. 112,116,120,126.
66 Cf. Michel Foucault, Archaeology of Knowledge (New York, 1972: Pantheon),
pp. 49, 55, 80f, 104; cf. also Dreyfus & Rabinow, Beyond Structuralism, p. 45;
Gilles Deleuze, Foucault (Minneapolis, 1988: University of Minnesota Press)
p. 7.
259
67 Foucault, Archaeology of Knowledge, p. 84.

68 Ibid., p. 111.
69 Ibid., p. 87.
70 I shall consistently use the term discourse to cover the meaning of both
discourse and discursive formation, which would amount to quite an
oversimplification if my aim was to convey an interpretation of Foucault's
use of these terms.
71 Foucault, Archaeology of Knowledge, p. 17.
71 Ibid., p. 109.
73 Ibid., p. 98; cf. Dreyfus & Rabinow, Beyond Structuralism, pp. 57-8; Deleuze,
Foucault, p. 11.
74 Jonathan Culler, On Deconstruction: Theory and Criticism After Structuralism
(London, 1983: Routledge), p. 121.
75 Deleuze, Foucault, p. 9.
76 Foucault, Archaeology of Knowledge, pp. 32,46.
77 This renders the question of the author problematic, and opens it to
investigation, but does not mean that we have to dispense with the concept
of the author, only that we have to treat it as a category susceptible to
historical change. See Michel Foucault, 'What is an Author?' in Donald F.
Bouchard, ed., Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Inter-
views with Michel Foucault (Ithaca, 1977: Cornell) pp. 113ff; Jacques Derrida,
Of Grammatology (Baltimore & London, 1974: Johns Hopkins), pp. 158f.
78 Cf. Thomas R. Flynn, 'Foucault and the Spaces of History', The Monist, vol.
74,1991, no. 2.
79 Foucault, Archaeology of Knowledge, pp. 46,53-4; Dreyfus & Rabinow, Beyond
Structuralism, pp. 64-7.
80 Dreyfus & Rabinow* Beyond Structuralism, pp. 79f.
81 Ibid., pp. 73-5.
82 It has been debated whether the archaeological approach of the early
Foucault of which the assumptions of autonomy and primacy are integral
parts is compatible with the genealogical approach articulated by the later
Foucault. It seems to me that archaeology and genealogy are different
enterprises, the former dealing with the question of how a system of
statements hangs together, the latter with the question of why such systems
are transformed over time, but no one has hitherto produced reasons to the
effect that they should be logically incompatible, see Deleuze, Foucault,
passim, Dreyfus & Rabinow, Beyond Structuralism, pp. 104f, Flynn, 'Foucault
and the Spaces of History7, pp. 174f, who all, albeit for different reasons,
stress the continuity between the analysis of discourse and genealogy.
83 Much interpretative energy has been devoted to the ethical implications of
genealogy. To take a few examples: N. Fraser, 'Foucault on Modern Power:
Empirical Insights and Normative Confusions', Praxis International, vol. 1,
1981 no. 3; D.R. Hiley, 'Foucault and the Analysis of Power: Political
Engagement Without Liberal Hope or Comfort', Praxis International, vol. 4,
1984, no. 2; S.D. Ross, 'Foucault's Radical Polities', Praxis International, vol. 5,
1985, no. 2; D. Ingram, 'Foucault and The Frankfurter School: A Discourse
260
on Nietzsche, Power and Knowledge', Praxis International, vol. 6,1986, no. 3;

A. Megill, Prophets of Extremity (Berkeley, 1985: University of California
Press), pp. 181ff; M. Walzer, 'The Lonely Politics of Michel Foucault', The
Company of Critics (New York, 1988: Basic Books) For an interesting com-
parison of Nietzsche and Foucault, see L.P. Thiele, 'The Agony of Politics:
The Nietzschean Roots of Foucault's Political Thought', American Political
Science Review, vol. 84,1991, no. 3.
84 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. A.
Sheridan (Harmondsworth, 1979: Penguin), p. 31, For an analysis, see M.S.
Roth, 'Foucault's "History of the Present"', History and Theory, vol. 20,1981,
no. 1.
85 Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences
86 Michel Foucault, 'Truth and Power' in C. Gordon, ed., Power/ Knowledge:
Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977 by Michel Foucault (New
York, 1980: Pantheon), p. 117.
87 Michel Foucault, 'The Discourse on Language' in Foucault, Archaeology of
Knowledge, p. 234.
88 Michel de Montaigne, 'De l'Experience', Essais, Book 3,13 (Paris, 1922: Felix
Alcan).
89 Nietzsche, '"Guilt", "Bad Conscience", and the Like', in The Genealogy of
Morals, p. 77.
90 M. Foucault, 'Nietzsche, Genealogy, History' in D.F.Bouchard, ed., Lan-
guage, Counter-Memory, Practice (Ithaca, 1977: Cornell), p. 146.
91 Foucault, 'Nietzsche, Genealogy', pp. 151-2.
92 Ibid., p. 142.
93 Aristotle, Rhetorics (London, 1947: Heinemann), book II, xxv. 8.
94 Ibid., book II, xxv. 11.
95 Michel Foucault, 'The History of Sexuality', interview by Lucette Finas, in
Gordon, ed., Power/ Knowledge, p. 193.
96 Michel Foucault, 'Truth and Power' in Gordon, ed., Power/ Knowledge, p. 131.
97 Although the textbook story of the concept of power is a long one, suffice it
here to note that the concept of power with few exceptions is tied to an idea
of agency and intentionality - whether individual or collective - and that it
implies some notion of causality, whether empiricist or scientific realist. See
D. Wrong, Power: Its Forms, Bases and Uses (Oxford, 1979: Basil Blackwell);
W. Connolly, The Terms of Political Discourse (Oxford, 1983: Robertson), pp.
85ff; S. Lukes, Power: A Radical View (London, 1974: Macmillan). Even if the
relation between agency and power has been increasingly problematized
(by, for example Hannah Arendt, 'What is Authority?' in Between Past and
Future (Harmondsworth, 1977: Penguin), pp. 91-143) even Giddens retains
a rather vague notion of unstructured subjectivity at the core of his account
of power. The Constitution of Society (Cambridge, 1984: Polity Press), pp. 1-34.
98 Cf. T. Ball, 'The Changing Face of Power' in Transforming Political Discourse
(Oxford, 1988: Basil Blackwell).
99 Deleuze, Foucault, p. 29.
261
100 Foucault, 'Truth and Power' in Gordon, ed., Power/Knowledge, p. 119.

101 Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 27.
102 The precise nature of this relationship has been analysed by T. Keenan,
'The "Paradox" of Knowledge and Power: Reading Foucault on a Bias',
Political Theory, vol. 15,1987, no. 1. Its historiographical implications have
been discussed by L. Shiner, 'Reading Foucault: Anti-method and the
Genealogy of Power/Knowledge', History and Theory, vol. 20,1982, no, 3.
103 Deleuze, Foucault, pp. 81-2.
104 Keenan, 'The Paradox of Knowledge and Power', pp. 14-15.
105 Hilary Putnam, Reason, Truth, and History (Cambridge, 1981: Cambridge
University Press), pp. 155-62; Megill, Prophets of Extremity, p. 251.
106 Walzer, 'The Lonely Politics of Michel Foucault' in The Company of Critics,
pp. 205f.
107 See John Keane, 'More Theses on the Philosophy of History', in Tully, ed.,
Meaning and Context, p. 214.
108 Dreyfus & Rabinow, Beyond Structuralism, pp. 194,196.
109 Ibid., p. 185; Deleuze, Foucault, p. 25.
110 Michel Foucault, 'Subject and Power' in Dreyfus & Rabinow, Beyond
Structuralism, p. 220.
111 Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, vol. 1 (New York, 1978: Vintage),
p. 93.
112 Foucault, Michel: 'Two Lectures' in Gordon, ed., Power/ Knowledge, p. 95.
113 Foucault, 'Truth and Power' in Gordon, ed., Power/Knowledge, p. 121.
114 This tension between analysis and criticism has been discussed by Rudi
Visker, 'Can Genealogy be Critical? A Somewhat Unromantic Look at
Nietzsche and Foucault', Man and World, vol. 23,1990.
115 Cf. R. Ashley, 'The Geopolitics of Geopolitical Space: Toward a Critical
Social Theory of International Polities', Alternatives, vol. 12,1987.
116 Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship (New York,
1970) p. 21 and passim; Walter Ullmann, Medieval Foundations of Renaissance
Humanism (London, 1977: Paul Elek) p. 104; H. Weisinger, 'The Renais-
sance Theory of the Reaction against the Middle Ages as a Cause of the
Renaissance', Speculum, vol. 20, 1945, and by the same author 'Ideas of
History During the Renaissance', Journal of the History of Ideas, vol. 6,1945.
117 Reinhart Koselleck, '"Neuzeit": Remarks on the Semantics of the Modern
Concepts of Movement' in Reinhart Koselleck, Futures Past: On the Seman-
tics of Historical Time (Boston, 1985: MIT Press); John D. Lyons, Exemplum:
The Rhetoric of Example in Early Modern France and Italy (Princeton, 1989:
Princeton University Press), pp. 154ff.
118 The classical example of reinvention and reappropriation is of course
Jacob Burkhardt, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy (London, 1951:
Phaidon). On the ontology of nineteenth-century historiography, see
Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 217ff.
119 Martin Wight, The Systems of States (Leicester, 1977: Leicester University
Press), pp. HOff.
262
120 Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics
(London, 1977: Macmillan), p. 10.
121 F. H. Hinsley, Nationalism and the International System (London, 1973:
Hodder and Stoughton), pp. 69-83.
4 Inventing outsides: proto-sovereignty, exempla and the general
theory of the state in the Renaissance
1 Carl Schmitt, Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty
(Boston, 1985: MIT Press), p. 36.
2 Walter Ullmann, A History of Political Thought: The Middle Ages (Harmonds-
worth, 1965: Penguin), p. 156.
3 Cf. Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge (New York, 1972: Pan-
theon), p. 186.
4 Cf. Quentin Skinner, 'The State' in T. Ball, J. Farr & R.L. Hanson, eds.
Political Innovation and Conceptual Change (Cambridge, 1989: Cambridge
University Press), pp. 93f.
5 Among the conceptual antecedents to sovereignty, we find an array of
concepts with overlapping and sometimes contradictory connotations,
such as potesta, potentia, majestas, gubernaculum, regnum, imperium, dominium,
status, repulicae etc.
6 A similar strategy has been pursued by James DerDerian, in his study On
Diplomacy: A Genealogy of Western Estrangement (Oxford, 1987: Basil Black-
well), chs. 3, 4.
7 Martin Wight, The Systems of States (Leicester, 1977: Leicester University
Press), pp. HOff.
8 A case in point is war, which is organized and conducted without any firm
distinctions between inside and outside, see J.R. Hale, War and Society in
Renaissance Europe 1450-1620 (London, 1985: Fontana), p. 13; Michael
Howard, War in European History (Oxford, 1976: Oxford University Press), p. 6.
9 Friedrich Meinecke, Machiavellism: The Doctrine of Raison d'Etat and its Place
in Modern History tr. by D. Scott (Boulder & London, 1984: Westview), chs.
1-3, p. 146.
10 Otto Gierke, Natural Law and the Theory of Society, 1500-1800 (Boston, 1957:
Beacon Press), p. 40, my emphasis. However, this statement must be quali-
fied, since it seems to be restricted to continental theories of the state only.
In Tudor England, it is hard to say that the state was explained by itself,
thus being both subject and object simultaneously. Here the prevalent
fiction was that of the 'king's two bodies', where the king himself, under-
stood as a corporation sole, was embodying an analogous split. See above
all, Ernst H. Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies: A Study in Medieval Political
Theology (Princeton, 1957: Princeton University Press), p. 20 and also F.W.
Maitland's introduction to O. Gierke, Political Theories of the Middle Ages
(Boston, 1958: Beacon Press), passim, and compare with W.F. Church,
Constitutional Thought in Sixteenth Century France (Cambridge, Mass. 1941:
Harvard University Press), esp. pp. 22-41.
263
11 E.g in Purgatory, see Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 485-95.
12 Michael Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty in the Later Middle Ages: The Papal
Monarchy with Augustinus Triumphus and the Publicists (Cambridge, 1963:
Cambridge University Press), pp. 20f; Walter Ullmann, Medieval Foundations
of Renaissance Humanism (London, 1977: Paul Elek), pp. 18-19; Gierke, Poli-
tical Theories of the Middle Ages, pp. 7f, 22f.
13 Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty, pp. 24f; Ullmann, Medieval Foundations,
p. 20; Gierke, Political Theories of the Middle Ages, pp. 22f.
14 Matthew, XVI, 18-19.
15 Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty, pp. 61-70.
16 Cf. Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, p. 193.
17 Ullmann, A History of Political Thought, pp. 71-5,85-7.
18 Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 105ff. As Ullmann has pointed out
(Ullmann, A History of Political Thought, p. 102n) this conception of 'living
law' was alien to the earlier Middle Ages, and was derived from the Greek
conception of a nomos empsychos.
19 Quoted in Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, p. 134.
20 Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty, p. 17.
21 Ullmann, A History of Political Thought, pp. 131-2.
22 Sheila Delany, 'Undoing the Substantial Connection: The Late Medieval
Attack on Analogical Thought' in Medieval Literary Politics: Shapes of Ideology
(Manchester 1990: Manchester University Press), pp. 20-3.
23 John of Salisbury, Policraticus, ed. C. Nederman (Cambridge, 1990: Cam-
bridge University Press).
24 Roy Strong, Art and Power: Renaissance Festivals 1450-1650 (Woodbridge,
1984: Boydell), pp. 8f.
25 See Marianne Shapiro, '"Mirror and Portrait": The Structure of // Libro del
Cortegiano', Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, vol. 5,1975, no. 1.
26 Strong, Art and Power: Renaissance Festivals 1450-1650, pp. 22-43.
27 Paul Ricoeur, Time and Narrative, vol. 1, (Chicago, 1984: University of
Chicago Press), p. 7.
28 Augustine, Confessions (New York, 1943: Liveright), book 11, ch. 14:17.
29 Augustine, Confessions, book 11, ch. 20:26, my emphasis; cf. also ch. 28:37-8.
30 Ibid., book 11, ch. 13:15.
31 Ibid., book 11, chs. 10:12,11:13,12:14.
32 I owe much in this regard to Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, p. 273 and
to Ricoeur, Time and Narrative, pp. 25-30.
33 Ricoeur, Time and Narrative, p. 25.
34 See Stanislas Boros, 'Les categories de la temporalite chez Saint Augustin',
Archives de Philosophie, vol. 21,1958.
35 Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 274f. On the reception of Aristotle's
ethical and political texts, see Cary J. Nederman, 'Aristotelianism and the
Origins of "Political Science" in the Twelfth Century', Journal of the History
of Ideas, vol. 52,1991, no. 2, who unfortunately does not discuss the impact
of Aristotle's physics and its transmission through Arab sources.
36 Aristotle, Physics (Oxford, 1953: Clarendon), 218a-b.
264
37 Augustine, Confessions, book 11, ch. 24:31.

38 On the impact of this transvaluation in literary art, see R. Quionones, The
Renaissance Discovery of Time (Cambridge, Mass., 1975: Harvard University
Press), esp. ch 1.
39 Augustine, Confessions, book 11; ch. 30:40.
40 Kantorowicz, 77K King's Two Bodies, pp. 275-7.
41 For an analysis of this important development, see Peter N. Riesenberg,
Inalienability of Sovereignty in Medieval Political Thought (New York, 1956:
Columbia University Press), pp. 81ff, 145ff.
42 Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 164f and Ernst Kantorowicz, 'Mys-
teries of State: An Absolutist Concept and its Late Medieval Origins',
Harvard Theological Review, vol. 48,1955, pp. 83f.
43 Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 232f and by the same author, 'Pro
Patria Mori in Medieval Political Thought', American Historical Review, vol.
56,1951. See also Gaines Post, 'Two Notes on Nationalism in the Middle
Ages', Traditio, vol. 9, 1953; Jerrold E. Seigel, Rhetoric and Philosophy in
Renaissance Humanism: The Union of Eloquence and Wisdom. Petrarch to Valla
(Princeton, 1968: Princeton University Press), pp. 63f, 99f.
44 Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 166f, 232f.
45 This had been recognized earlier by Innocent Ill's decretal Per Venerabilem
(1202) in which it was laid down that the French king had no superior in
temporal affairs; see Joseph R. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern
State (Princeton, 1970: Princeton University Press), pp. 53f.
46 For a detailed analysis of this episode, see Walter Ullmann, 'The Develop-
ment of the Medieval Idea of Sovereignty', English Historical Review, vol. 64,
1949, no. 250.
47 Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, p. 299.
48 Quoted in ibid., p. 299.
49 Aristotle, Physics, 220a: 'It is clear, then, that time is "number of movement
in respect to before and after", and is continuous since it is an attribute of
what is continuous', from which it follows in 220b: 'Not only do we measure
movement by the time, but also the time by the movement, because they
define each other', and in 222b: 'it is evident that every change and every-
thing that moves is in time', from which is derived, somewhat spuriously,
the assertion of 223b, that 'human affairs form a circle'.
50 Cf. Reinhart Koselleck, 'Historical Criteria of the Modern Concept of Revo-
lution' in Koselleck, Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical Time (Boston,
1985: MIT Press), pp. 42-5.
51 L. Valla, The Treatise on the Donation of Constantine (New Haven, 1922: Yale
University Press).
52 Cf. Reinhart Koselleck, 'Historia Magistra Vitae: The Dissolution of the
Topos into the Perspective of a Modernized Historical Process' in Koselleck,
Futures Past, pp. 23f.
53 Aristotle, Rhetorics (London, 1947: Heinemann), I, book 2, section 8.
54 John D. Lyons, Exemplum: The Rhetoric of Example in Early Modern France and
Italy (Princeton, 1990: Princeton University Press), pp. 6,11.
265
55 Ullmann, A History of Political Thought, p. 12.
56 Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty, p. 84; Walter Ullmann, Principles of Govern-
ment and Politics in the Middle Ages (London, 1961: Methuen & Co.),
pp. 231-43.
57 Nederman, 'Aristotelianism', passim.
58 Ullmann, A History of Political Thought, pp. 15-17.
59 See Nicolai Rubinstein, 'The History of the Word Politicus in Early-Modern
Europe' in A. Pagden, ed., The Languages of Political Theory in Early-Modern
Europe (Cambridge, 1987: Cambridge University Press); Quentin Skinner,
The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, vol. 1 (Cambridge, 1978: Cam-
bridge University Press), p. 50.
60 Aristotle, The Politics, ed. S. Everson (Cambridge, 1988: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press), book 2, ch. 6, book 4, ch. 14-15.
61 Ibid.
62 Ibid., book 3, chs. 1-5.
63 See Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty, pp. 118ff.
64 As Wilks has noted: 'One of the tragedies of medieval history is to watch the
undermining of a system by the very men who believed that they were doing
everything in their power to build it up', The Problem of Sovereignty, p. 10.
65 This is analysed by Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty, pp. 118-42.
66 Quoted in Wilks, The Problem of Sovereignty, pp. 94-5n.
67 Marsilius of Padua: The Defender of Peace, vol. 2: The Defensor Pads, tr. by A.
Gewirth (New York, 1956: Columbia University Press). For a contextual
analysis, see Nicolai Rubinstein, 'Marsilius of Padua and Italian Political
Thought of his Time', in J.R. Hale, J.R.L. Highfield & B. Smalley, eds., Europe
in the Late Middle Ages (London, 1965: Faber and Faber), pp. 44-75.
68 Marsilius of Padua, Defensor Pads, Discourse 1, Section 4.
69 Ibid., Discourse 1, Section 1, no. 8.
70 Ibid., Discourse 1, Section 17, no. 11. As Gewirth has pointed out (p. 85 nl6),
this passage is adopted more or less wholesale from Aquinas' In Decem libros
Ethicorum Aristotelis ad Nichomachum expositio, lib. 1.
71 Dante, The Monarchy and Three Letters (New York, 1954), book 1, ch. 5: 'For, if
it is agreed that mankind as a whole has a goal (and this we have shown to
be so), then it needs one person to govern or rule over it, and the title
appropriate to this person is Monarch or Emperor. Thus it has been
demonstrated that a Monarch or Emperor is necessary for the well-being of
the world.' For a comparison between Dante and Marsiglio, see Marjorie
Reeves, 'Dante Aligheri and Marsiglio of Padua' in Beryl Smalley, ed.,
Trends in Medieval Political Thought (Oxford, 1965: Basil BlackweU).
72 Marsilius of Padua, Defensor Pads, Discourse 1, Section 17, no. 3.
74 The notion of an outside, an undefined logical externality, recurs also in the
discussion of the function of the ruler, Defensor Pads, Discourse 1, Section 4,
no. 4 and the military, Discourse 1, Section 14, no. 8.
75 Marsilius of Padua, Defensor Pads, Discourse 1, Section 17, no. 10.
266
77 On Bartolus of Saxoferrato, see M.H. Keen, 'The Political Thought of the

Fourteenth-Century Civilians' in Smalley, Trends in Medieval Political
Thought pp. 105-24 and C.N.S. Woolf, Bartolus of Sassoferrato (Cambridge,
1913: Cambridge University Press).
78 J.H. Parry, The Establishment of the European Hegemony, 1415-1715 (New York,
1961: Harper & Row), p. 13.
79 Dante, Monarchia, I:xi.
80 See Frederic Cheyette, 'The Sovereign and the Pirates, 1332', Speculum, vol.
45, pp. 44-50.
81 Ibid., pp. 54-68.
82 A similar interpretation of the problems caused by time has been provided
by J.G.A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and
the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton, 1975: Princeton University
Press), p. 31.
83 Cf. Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human
Sciences (London, 1991: Routledge), p. 40. For a comprehensive study on
Renaissance knowledge, see Frances A. Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Herme-
tic Tradition (London, 1964: Routledge).
84 Cf. Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Thought vol. 1, The Classic, Scholastic
and Humanistic Strains (New York, 1961: Harper & Row), pp. 55f.
85 Marsilio, Ficino, 'Five Questions Concerning the Mind' (1495) in E. Cassirer,
et al., eds., The Renaissance Philosophy of Man (Chicago, 1948: University of
Chicago Press), p. 194.
86 Ibid., p. 195.
87 Ibid., p. 196.
88 Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, 'Oration on the Dignity of Man' (1486) in
Cassirer, et al., eds., The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, pp. 248-9.
89 Shapiro, 'Mirror and Portrait', passim; Hardin Craig, The Enchanted Glass:
The Elizabethan Mind in Literature (Westport, Conn., 1975: Greenwood),
passim. On the influence of optics on the Renaissance world-view, see
Crombie, Science, Optics and Music in Medieval and Early Modern Thought
(London, 1987: Hambledon Press), pp. 175-284. The problem of deciding
between projection and reality could sometimes be very real; for how is it
possible to draw such a distinction without tacitly presupposing prior
access to it through a notion of representation? An interesting episode in
this respect occurred when Charles V obtained a map of Provence in 1536,
and immediately became convinced that he owned Provence in the very
same sense as he owned the map of it; it would have taken a Descartes to
persuade him to the contrary. See Martin Du Bellay, Mfrnoirs, ed. J.A.C.
Bouchon (Paris, 1936), p. 582, quoted in Hale, War and Society, p. 45.
90 Marsilio, Ficino, 'Five Questions Concerning the Mind' (1495), p. 195.
91 Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 25f.
92 The classical example in this respect is of course Niccdlo Machiavelli, The
Art of War (1521), tr. by E. Farneworth (Indianapolis, 1965: Bobbs-Merrill),
but which was followed by a great number of treatises on tactics, siege-
craft, artillery etc., see Hale, War and Society, p. 56.
267
93 Cf. Robert Adams, The Better Part of Valor: More, Erasmus, Colet, and Vives on
Humanism, War and Peace, 1496-1535 (Seattle, 1962: University of Wash-
ington Press), pp. 4-10. On fate, providence and the human condition, see
Antonio Poppio, 'Fate, Fortune, Providence and Human Freedom' in
Charles B. Schmitt, et al., eds. The Cambridge History of Renaissance Phil-
osophy (Cambridge, 1988: Cambridge University Press), pp. 641-67.
94 Valla, Treatise on the Donation of Constantine, p. 167 is a case in point. For a
good overview, see J.R. Hale, 'Sixteenth-Century Explanations of War and
Violence', Past and Present, no. 2,1971.
95 Adams, The Better Part of Valor, pp. 82,101,117,125f, passim.
96 Augustine, Soliloquia, II, vi, PLXXXII, 903, quoted in Shapiro, 'Mirror and
Portrait', p. 42.
97 Niccdlo Machiavelli, The Prince, tr. by R. Price (Cambridge, 1988: Cam-
bridge University Press), ch. 15, p. 54.
98 Cf. Michael McCanles, The Discourse of II Principe (Malibu, 1983: Undena
Publications), pp. 12ff, who stresses the rhetorical and strategic dimen-
sions of the text of 11 Principe.
99 Felix Gilbert, Machiavelli and Guiccardini: Politics and History in Sixteenth
Century Florence (Princeton, 1965: Princeton University Press), p. 170.
100 Sometimes the concept of stato is used to denote 'power' or 'government',
but also 'people' and 'territory'. On this point see J.H. Hexter, The Vision of
Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli, and Seyssel (London,
1973: Allen Lane), pp. 150ff and Gilbert, Machiavelli and Guicciardini,
pp. 177-8, Skinner, 'The State', p. 103.
101 Skinner, 'The State', pp. 98-100.
102 Hexter, The Vision of Politics, p. 161.
103 Machiavelli, The Prince, ch. 1, p. 5.
104 Ibid., ch. 2, p. 6.
105 Ibid., ch. 3, p. 6.
106 Ibid., ch. 5, p. 17.
107 Ibid., ch. 6, p. 21.
108 Ibid., ch. 25, p. 85.
109 Ibid., ch. 7, p. 22.
110 Ibid., ch. 6, p. 19.
111 Ibid., ch. 6, p. 21.
112 A similar interpretation has been proposed by Lyons, Exemplum, p. 38.
113 Cf. Machiavelli, The Prince, ch. 6, pp. 20-1.
114 Machiavelli, The Discourses (London, 1950: Routledge), book 1, Preface,
p. 205.
115 For a survey of the enormous debate, see Eric W. Cochrane, 'Machiavelli:
1940-1960', Journal of Modern History, vol. 33, 1961, and John Geerken,
'Machiavelli Studies since 19691, Journal of the History of Ideas, vol. 37,1976.
On the meaning of virtu, see Neal Wood, 'MachiavelH's Concept of Virtu
Reconsidered', Political Studies, vol. 15,1972; Gilbert, Machiavelli and Guic-
ciardini, p. 179; I. Hannaford, 'Machiavelli's Concept of Virtu in The Prince
and The Discourses Reconsidered', Political Studies, vol. 20, 1972; Russell
268
Price, 'The Senses of Virtu in Machiavelli', European Studies Review, vol. 3,

1973, no. 4.
116 Cochrane, 'Machiavelli: 1940-1960', pp. 115f; Geerken, 'Machiavelli
Studies since 1969', pp. 364f.
117 See Peter S. Donaldson, Machiavelli and Mystery of State (Cambridge, 1988:
Cambridge University Press), ch. 1; Skinner, Foundations of Modern Political
Thought, vol. 2, pp. 308-9; Leo Strauss, Thoughts on Machiavelli (Glencoe,
111., 1958: The Free Press), p. 175.
118 Ernst Cassirer, The Myth of the State (New Haven, 1946: Yale University
Press), pp. 117f, 140-1.
119 Bendetto Croce, Politics and Morals (New York, 1945), p. 59. For a similar
view, see also Frederic Chabod, Machiavelli and the Renaissance (London,
1958: Bowes & Bowes), p. 142.
120 Isaiah Berlin, 'The Originality of Machiavelli', in Myron Gilmore, ed.,
Studies on Machiavelli (Florence, 1972: Sansoni), p. 193.
121 Berlin, 'The Originality of Machiavelli', pp. 195f.
122 Skinner, Foundations of Modern Political Thought, vol. 1, p. 138.
123 Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment, p. 177, my emphasis.
124 McCanles, The Discourse of 11 Principe, p. 28.
125 Cf. ibid., p. 12.
127 Ibid., ch. 15, p. 55.
128 Ibid., ch. 18, p. 62, my emphasis.
129 Cf. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment, p. 165, who stresses this tension
but misses the supplementarity between traditional legitimacy and
innovation.
131 Ibid., ch. 17, p. 61.
132 I owe this observation to Donaldson, Machiavelli and the Mystery of State,
p. viii. What Donaldson partly neglects, however, is the full significance of
the reference to Pindar. Pindar is held to be responsible for the reversal of
the nomos-physis antithesis among the sophists, making nomos (law or
convention) a force superior to that of the Gods, and simultaneously
assimilate it to the order of the physis (nature). (W.K.C. Guthrie, The
Sophists (Cambridge, 1971: Cambridge University Press) pp. 131-4). Later,
this reversal was caricatured by Plato, Gorgias, 484b, when making Calli-
cles a supporter of the doctrine that might is right, when the latter speaks
about innovation: 'But if there arises a man sufficiently empowered by
nature, he will... tred underfoot our texts and spells and incantations and
unnatural laws, and by an act of revolt reveal himself our master instead of
our slave, in the full blaze of natural justice.'
133 Cf. Gilbert, Machiavelli and Guicciardini, p. 168 who discusses the use of
allegory in Machiavelli's work.
134 Donaldson, Machiavelli and Mystery of State, p. viii.
136 On the problem of dating Discorsi, see Skinner, Foundations of Modern
269
Political Thought, vol. I, p. 154 and Hans Baron, 'Machiavelli: Republican
Citizen and Author of "The Prince"', English Historical Review, vol. 76,1961.
137 See Skinner, Foundations of Modern Political Thought, vol. I, p. 156.
139 Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment, p. 184.
140 Machiavelli, The Discourses, book 2, ch. 1, no. 2.
141 Ibid., book 1, ch. 2, no. 1.
142 Ibid., book 1, ch. 58.
143 Ibid., book 2, ch. 3.
144 Machiavelli, The Art of War, passim.
145 Machiavelli, The Discourses, book 2, ch. 1.
146 Ibid., book 1, ch. 2, p. 214.
147 Lyons, Exemplum, p. 46.
148 Machiavelli, The Discourses, book 1, ch. 3, pp. 218-19.
149 Ibid., book 2, ch. 20, p. 420.
150 Edward Surtz, 'Utopia as a Work of Literary Art', in E. Surtz & J.H. Hexter,
eds., The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, vol. 4 (New Haven, 1964: Yale
University Press), p. cxxxvi.
151 Stephen Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-Fashioning. From More to Shakespeare
(Chicago, 1980: University of Chicago Press), p. 57.
152 For a similar mode of writing and constructing truth through re-reporting,
see for example, Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness or Jorge Luis Borges'
Doctor Brodie's Report. See also Paul Veyne, Did the Greeks Believe in Their
Myths? An Essay on the Constitutive Imagination (Chicago, 1988: University
of Chicago Press) for a discussion of the importance of trustworthiness in
the construction of truth.
153 Thomas More, Utopia: The Best State of a Commonwealth and the New Island of
Utopia in E. Surtz & J.H. Hexter, eds'. The Complete Works of St. Thomas More,
vol. 4, (New Haven, 1964: Yale University Press), p. 101.
154 More, Utopia, p. 103.
155 Ibid., p. 101.
156 Ibid., p. 99.
157 Thomas More, Letter to Peter Giles, in Surtz & Hexter, Complete Works, vol. 4,
p. 249.
158 More, Letter to Peter Giles, p. 251.
159 More, Utopia, pp. 63f.
160 Ibid., pp. 61,89-93.
161 Ibid., pp. 103.
162 Robert P. Adams, The Better Part of Valor, pp. 145f.
163 Quentin Skinner, 'Sir Thomas More's Utopia and the Language of Renais-
sance Humanism', in Anthony Pagden, ed., The Languages of Political
Theory in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, 1988: Cambridge University
Press); Hexter, The Vision of Politics, pp. 52-3.
165 Ibid., pp. 121,147.
166 Ibid., p. 125.
270
167 Ibid., pp. 153,155,157,231.

168 Utopia had the benefit of evolving in relative isolation for 1760 years
before Hythlodaeus' arrival: ibid., p. 121.
169 A similar point is made by Hexter, The Vision of Politics, pp. 76-8.
171 Thomas More, Selected Letters (New Haven, 1961: Yale University Press),
p. 85.
173 Ibid., p. 111.
174 Ibid., pp. 199,201.
175 Ibid., pp. 207, 209.
176 Ibid., p. 137.
177 Ibid., p. 137.
178 This is one consequence of what Avineri has called the paradox of
perfection. 'If one starts with the assumption that a certain group is
perfect, because it commits no crime or sin, the circle tends to close very
soon by saying that it does not commit sin because it is perfect'; Shlomo
Avineri, 'War and Slavery in More's Utopia', International Review of Social
History, vol. 7,1962, p. 289.
179 Machiavelli, Discourses, book I, Preface.
180 For a background to Vitoria's thought, see James Brown Scott, The Spanish
Origin of International Law: Francisco de Vitoria and his Law of Nations,
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace (Oxford, 1934: Clarendon),
ch. 1, and B. Hamilton, Political Thought in Sixteenth-Century Spain (Oxford,
1963). See also the more recent J.A. Fernandez-Santamaria, The State, War
and Peace: Spanish Political Thought in the Renaissance 1516-1559 (Cambridge,
1977: Cambridge University Press), pp. 1-7, 58-63.
181 On the epistemic, moral and legal problems posed by the discoveries, see
Tzvetan Todorov, The Conquest of America: The Question of the Other (New
York, 1992: Harper & Row), esp. pp. 109,156-8,181,185ff.
182 David Kennedy: 'Primitive Legal Scholarship', Harvard International Law
Journal, vol. 27,1986, no. 4, pp. 13ff. I am grateful to Pal Wrange for having
drawn my attention to this excellent article.
183 Francisco de Vitoria, De Potestate Civili (1527/8) in Scott, Spanish Origin of
International Law, p. lxxii.
184 Vitoria, De Potestate Civili, p. lxxv.
185 Ibid., p. lxxvi.
186 Ibid.
187 Ibid., p. lxxvii. Vitoria had no clear preference between monarchy and
aristocracy; see ibid., p. lxxviii.
188 Ibid., p. lxxxi.
189 Vitoria, De Potestate Ecclesiae I (1530/1), in Scott, The Spanish Origin of
International Law, p. xcvii.
190 Fernandez-Santamaria, The State, War and Peace, p. 77.
191 Vitoria, De Potestate Civili, p. lxxxv.
192 Vitoria, De Indis Recenter Inventis: De lure Bello, in James Brown Scott,
272
ed., The Classics of International Law (Washington, 1917: Carnegie), p. 169.

193 Vitoria, De Potestate Civili, p. xc.
194 Cf. Todorov, The Conquest of America, pp. 185ff.
195 On this debate, see Anthony Pagden, 'Dispossessing the Barbarian: The
Language of Spanish Thomism and the Debate over the Property Rights of
the American Indians', in Pagden, ed., The Languages of Political Theory in
Early Modern Europe.
1% Vitoria, De Indis II in Scott, The Spanish Origin of International Law, p. xxxi.
197 Vitoria, De Indis I, pp. vi-vii.
198 Ibid., p. ix.
199 Ibid., p. xi.
200 Ibid., p. xiii.
201 Vitoria, De Jure Gentium et Naturali in Scott, The Spanish Origin of Inter-
national Law, p. cxii.
202 Ibid., p. cxiii.
203 Augustine, Reply to Faustus the Manichean, XXII. For an analysis of August-
ine's idea of just war, see H. Deane, The Social and Political Ideas of Saint
Augustine (New York, 1963).
204 Vitoria, De Bello, p. cxvii, in Scott, The Spanish Origin of International Law.
5 How policy became foreign: sovereignty, mathesis and interest
in the Classical Age
1 See for example Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World
Politics (London, 1977: Macmillan), p. 10.
2 Bull, 77K? Anarchical Society, p. 10.
3 Samuel Pufendorf, De Systematibus Civitatum (1675), in Martin Wight, The
Systems of States (Leicester, 1977: Leicester University Press), p. 21; Hugo
Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pacis Libri Tres ed. by James Brown Scott, The Classics
of International Law (Oxford, 1925: Clarendon), p. 213; see also J.L. Holz-
grefe, 'The Origins of Modern International Relations Theor/, Review of
International Studies, vol. 15,1989, pp. 19f.
4 Samuel von Pufendorf, (Elementorum Jurisprudence Universalis Libri Duo,
ed. James Brown Scott in The Classics of International Law (Oxford, 1931:
Clarendon), vol. 2, p. 165), sometimes identified as one of the founding
fathers of the international system by presentist writers, in fact found it
difficult to speak of an independent law of nations, 'which, in the eyes of
some men, is nothing other than the law of nature, insofar as different
nations, not united with another by a supreme command, observe it, who
must render one another the same duties in their fashion, as are prescribed
for individuals by the law of nature. On this point there is no reason for our
conducting any special discussion here, since what we recount on the
subject of the law of nature and of the duties of individuals, can be readily
applied to whole states and nations which have also coalesced into one
moral person. Aside from this law, we are of the opinion that there is no law
of nations, at least none which can properly be designated by such a name.'
I am grateful to Jan Sellberg for drawing my attention to this passage.
272
5 Jean Bodin, The Six Books of a Commonweale, facsimile reprint of the Knolles
edition of 1606, ed. by K.D. MacRae (Cambridge, Mass., 1962: Harvard
University Press), book 2, ch. 1, p. 185.
6 Ibid., xxx.
7 Ibid., book 2, ch. 2, p. 199.
8 For an analysis of this problem, see Heinz Eulau, 'The Depersonalization of
the Concept of Sovereignty', Journal of Politics, vol. 4,1942 and Nannerl O.
Keohane, Philosophy and the State in France: The Renaissance to the Enlighten-
ment (Princeton, 1980: Princeton University Press), p. 17.
9 There is a number of excellent studies dealing with this development, most
notably W.J. Stankiewicz, Politics and Religion in Seventeenth-Century France
(Berkeley, 1960: University of California Press); Michael Walzer, The Revo-
lution of the Saints (London, 1965: Weidenfeld & Nicolson); William F.
Church, Richelieu and the Reason of State (Princeton, 1972: Princeton Univer-
sity Press); Quentin Skinner, Foundations of Modern Political Thought, vol. 2
(Cambridge, 1978: Cambridge University Press).
10 Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, ed. by R. Tuck (Cambridge, 1991: Cambridge
University Press), book 2, ch. 21, p. 149.
11 Ibid., book 2, ch. 13, p. 90.
12 Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pads Libri Tres, Prolegomena, pp. 15-17; For a recent
analysis of 'The Grotian Tradition', see B. Kingsbury & A. Robert, 'Intro-
duction: Grotian Thought in International Relations', in H. Bull, et al. eds.,
Hugo Grotius and International Relations (Oxford, 1990: Clarendon), pp. 1-65.
In international relations theory, Hobbes and Grotius are sometimes placed
in opposition to each other and treated as originators of two distinct
traditions of thought. In the present context, no systematic attempt is made
to evaluate this claim. Suffice it here to note that recent research suggests
that this view is oversimplified, see for example R. Tuck, Natural Rights
Theories: Their Origin and Development (Cambridge, 1979: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press).
13 Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences
(London, 1991: Routledge), pp. 56-7.
14 Bodin, The Six Books of a Commonweale, book 1, ch. 8, p. 84.
15 Ibid, book 1, ch. 1, p. 1.
16 Ibid., book 6, ch. 6, p. 794.
17 J.U. Lewis, 'Jean Bodin's "Logic of Sovereignty"', Political Studies, vol. 16,
1968, pp. 212-17.
18 Julian H. Franklin, Jean Bodin and the Sixteenth-Century Revolution in the
Methodology of Law and History (New York, 1963: Columbia University
Press), pp. 137f; Kenneth D. McRae, 'Bodin and the Development of Empi-
rical Political Science', in Horst Denzer, ed.Jean Bodin: Proceedings (Munich,
1973: Beck), pp. 333-43.
19 Bodin, The Six Books of a Commonweale, book 4, p. 450.
20 Bodin's influence on later absolutist theory has been discussed in numer-
ous studies, the most comprehensive being: William F. Church, Constitu-
tional Thought in Sixteenth-Century France (Cambridge, Mass., 1941: Harvard
273
University Press), pp. 303; Julian H. Franklin, Jean Bodin and the
Rise of Absolutist Theory (Cambridge, 1973: Cambridge University Press),
passim.
21 Rene Descartes, Rules for the Direction of our Native Intelligence, in Descartes,
Selected Philosophical Writings (Cambridge, 1988: Cambridge University
Press), Rule 14, p. 18.
22 Ibid., Rule 13, p. 18.
23 Ibid., Rule 2, p. 1.
24 Ibid., Rule 6, p. 6.
25 Ibid., Rule 5, p. 6.
26 Ibid., Rule 7, p. 7.
27 Ibid., Rule 6-7, p. 7.
28 Foucault, The Order of Things, p. 53.
29 David R. Lachterman, The Ethics of Geometry: A Genealogy of Modernity (New
York, 1989: Routledge), pp. 175,178.
30 Reinhart Koselleck has argued ('Historia Magistra Vitae: The Dissolution of
the Topos into the Perspective of a Modernized Historical Process' in
Koselleck, Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical Time (Boston, 1985: MIT
Press)) that this shift arrives much later, and then as a result of the
totalizing historiography of the Enlightenment. To my mind, however, the
coming of the mathesis is the crucial event in this respect, since it delegiti-
mizes exemplary history while legitimizing a nomothetic outlook. Bacon,
for example, is scornful of exemplary history, and tells us that it applies to
'Exemplary States' only. (Of the Advancement of Learning (1605), ed. J.M.
Robertson, in The Philosophical Works of Francis Bacon (London, 1905: Rout-
ledge), p. 83). If exemplary history and rhetoric based on example survives
as late as in Montesquieu's L'Esprit des Lois, this is probably because the
delegitimization is slow and piecemeal and because the emergent totalizing
historiography also reopens a space of exemplary knowledge, but now
with an altogether different purpose. Montesquieu is a case in point; he
uses exempla to recover a republican tradition which itself is justified by
means of exempla, to the effect that the republic can be understood as a
container of tradition rather than as a container of virtue; it has a future
because it has a continuous past.
31 Descartes, Rules, Rule 3, p. 3.
32 Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 34f.
33 Bacon, Of the Advancement of Learning, p. 54.
34 Ibid., p. 56.
35 Ibid., p.118.
36 Ibid., p. 122.
37 On the relationship between representation and the mind-body distinc-
tion, see Richard Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature (Oxford, 1980:
Basil Blackwell), ch. 1.
38 Hobbes, Leviathan, Book 1, Ch. 4, p. 25.
39 Ibid., p. 26.
40 Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 64-5.
274
41 Hobbes, Leviathan, book 1, ch. 4, p. 28.
42 Samuel von Pufendorf, On the Duty of Man and Citizen According to Natural
Law, ed. by J. Tully (Cambridge, 1991: Cambridge University Press), ch. 10,
p. 79.
43 Samuel von Pufendorf, Of the Law of Nature and of Nations (Oxford, 1703),
book 4, ch. 1, p. 274.
45 John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (London, 1990:
Everyman's), book 3, ch. 2, no. 2.
47 Pufendorf, On the Duty of Man, ch. 10, p. 77.
48 Ibid., ch. 10, p. 77.
49 Pufendorf, Of the Law of Nature, ch. 1, p. 273.
51 Ibid., book 1, ch. 13, p. 89.
52 Pufendorf, Of the Law of Nature, book 4, ch. 1, pp. 273-4.
53 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discours s'ur I'origine de I'inegalite in The Social Con-
tract and Discourses, G.D.H. Cole, ed. (London, 1990: Everyman's),
pp. 65-70; Etienne Bonnot de Condillac, Essai sur I'origine des connoissances
humaines (Amsterdam, 1746), vol. 2, pp. 4-15,19-24.
54 Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 107f. Cf. Condillac, Essai sur I'origine des
connoissances humaines, vol. 2, pp. 4f.
56 Ibid., book 1, ch. 5, pp. 32-3.
57 Ibid., book 2, ch. 18, p. 125.
58 Ibid., book 2, ch. 17, p. 121f.
59 Ibid., book 2, ch. 31, p. 245.
60 Ibid., book 1, pp. 25-6, book 1, p. 58, see also W. Mathie, 'Reason and
Rhetoric in Hobbes' Leviathan', Interpretations, vol. 14,1986, no. 2.
61 Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, book 3, chs. 10-11, pp. 252-7.
62 'The History of Royal 50061/ in Springarn, ed., Critical Essays of the
Seventeenth Century, vol. 2, quoted in Isaiah Berlin, Vico and Herder: Two
Studies in the History of Ideas (London, 1976: The Hogarth Press), p. 104.
63 On this point, cf. Cornelia Navari, 'Knowledge, the State and the State of
Nature', in Michael Donelan, ed., The Reason of States: A Study in Inter-
national Political Theory (London, 1978: Allen & Unwin).
64 Cardin Le Bret, De la souverainetee, p. 19, quoted in Church, Richelieu and the
Reason of State, p. 270.
65 A similar line of argument has been developed by William E. Connolly,
Political Theory & Modernity (Oxford, 1988: Basil Blackwell), pp. 33-40.
66 Cf. Deborah Baumgold, Hobbes's Political Theory (Cambridge, 1988: Cam-
bridge University Press), p. 45.
68 Ibid., book 2, ch. 16, p. 112.
69 Carl Schmitt, Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty,
(Boston, 1985: MIT Press), pp. 45-8.
275
70 Louis XIV, Mhnoires for the Instruction of the Dauphin, ed. P. Sonnino (New
York, 1970), p. 127.
71 Daniel de Prtezac, De la majeste, in Discours Politiques (Paris, 1652), p. 142, tr.
Church, Richelieu and the Reason of State, p. 452.
72 Cf. Reinhart Koselleck, Critique and Crisis: Enlightenment and the Pathogenesis
of Modern Society (Oxford, 1988: Berg), pp. 15ff, 98ff.
73 Schmitt, Political Theology, p. 55.
74 Maurizio Viroli, From Politics to Reason of State: The Acquisition and Trans-
formation of the Language of Politics 1250-1600 (Cambridge, 1992: Cambridge
University Press). In the present context, I am not in a position to do full
justice to Viroli's study, which clearly improves on the conventional
account in many respects.
75 Cf. Felix Raab, The English Face of Machiavelli: A Changing Interpretation
1500-1700 (London, 1965: Routledge) and J. Ferrari, Histoire de la Raison
d'ttat (Paris, 1860: Levy).
76 Hence Church omits treatises of Descartes in his seminal Richelieu and the
Reason of State, 'since their influence lies outside the currents of thought
that are examined in this book' (p. 7), while Meinecke throughout his
Machiavellism: The Doctrine of Raison d'ttat and its Place in Modern History
(1924) (Boulder and London, 1984: Westview) is content to connect Raison
d'ttat with loose references to different Weltanschauungen.
77 Meinecke, Machiavellism, p. 53.
78 On the problematic reception of Machiavellian ideas, see for example,
Meinecke, Machiavellism, chs. 2-4; Donald R. Kelley, 'Murd'rous Machiavel
in France: A Post Mortem', Political Science Quarterly, vol. 85, 1970, no. 4;
Donald W. Bleznick, 'Spanish Reaction to Machiavelli in the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries', Journal of the History of Ideas, vol. 19,1958; Adrianna
E. Bakos, '"Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare': Louis XI and Raison d'Etat
during the Reign of Louis XIII', Journal of the History of Ideas, vol. 52,1991, no.
3; F.E. Sutcliffe, 'La notion de Raison d'fitat dans la pensee franchise et
espagnole au XVIIe siecle', in Roman Schnur, ed., Staatsrason: Studien zur
Geschichte ernes politischen Begriffs (Berlin, 1975: Duncker & Humblot).
79 Peter S. Donaldson, Machiavelli and Mystery of State (Cambridge, 1988:
Cambridge University Press), pp. x-xiii, passim.
80 The books and manuscripts have been selected according to several
criteria. First, since my primary target has been the analysis of state inter-
ests, rather than discussions of interest with reference to domestic contexts,
manuscripts dealing solely with the latter have been left out. Second, since
imitations are in abundance (especially of Rohan), they have been left out
also, except in the case of the anonymous Discours of 1666, which furnishes
evidence contrary to earlier interpretations of it. Third, I have omitted mere
compilations of court gossip, even if they sometimes are informed by the
notion of interest, such as the Recueil de diverses relations remarquables des
principales cours (Cologne, 1681). As the reader may note, most examples of
the analysis of interest are French. This French bias should not come as a
surprise, however, since it was in France - which was gradually estab-
276
lishing itself as the great power during the seventeenth century - that the
analysis of interest first developed in connection with foreign policy.
81 William E. Connolly, The Terms of Political Discourse (Oxford, 1983: Martin
Robertson), pp. 45-84.
82 J.A.W. Gunn, Politics and the Public Interest in the Seventeenth Century
83 Raab, 77K English Face of Machiavelli, pp. 157-68.
84 Gunn, Politics and the Public Interest, pp. 1-54,322-30.
85 Albert O. Hirschmann, The Passions and the Interests: Political Arguments for
Capitalism before Its Triumph (Princeton, 1977: Princeton University Press),
pp. 33ff; Keohane, Philosophy and the State in France, pp. 151f.
86 Gunn, Politics and the Public Interest, p. 42.
87 Michel de Montaigne, 'L'utile et l'honorable', Essais, Book III, ch. I (Paris,
1922: Felix Alcan); Justus Lipsius, Sixe bookes of Politickes or Civil Doctrine
(London, 1594), book 4, ch. 14; Pierre Charron, De la sagesse (Paris, 1820),
book 3, ch. 2; Rene Descartes, Correspondence, ed. by C. Adam & G. Milhaud,
(Paris, 1936-63) vol. 7, no. 548 (letter to Queen Elisabeth of Bavaria); Gabriel
NaudS, Considerations politiques sur les coups d'estat (Amsterdam, 1679),
pp. 55f, 297f.
88 Gunn, Politics and the Public Interest, pp. 29,41; Hirschman, The Passions and
the Interests, pp. 32-3.
89 Cf. Gigliola Rossini, 'The Criticism of Rhetorical Historiography and the
Ideal of Scientific Method: History, Nature and Science in the Political
Language of Thomas Hobbes', in A. Pagden, ed., The Languages of Political
Theory in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, 1988: Cambridge University
Press); Connolly, Political Theory & Modernity, pp. 27-30; Preston King, The
Ideology of Order: A Comparative Analysis of Jean Bodin and Thomas Hobbes
(London, 1974: Allen & Unwin), pp. 161-77; Quentin Skinner, '"Scientia
Civilis" in Classical Rhetoric and in the Early Hobbes', in N. Phillipson & Q.
Skinner, Political Discourse in Early Modern Britain (Cambridge, 1993: Cam-
bridge University Press).
90 This act of reinvention of the self and of knowledge is especially evident in
Descartes' Discours sur la methode, Selected Philosophical Writings, pp. 20-56;
see also Lachterman, The Ethics of Geometry, pp. 126-40.
91 Robert P. Adams, The Better Part of Valor: More, Erasmus, Colet, and Vives on
Humanism, War and Peace 1496-1535 (Seattle, 1962: University of Wash-
ington Press), pp. 82,101,224-6.
92 Thomas Hobbes, Human Nature, in English Works, ed. W. Molesworth
(London, 1839-45), vol. 4, dedicatory epistle.
93 Gatien Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets des Princes de I'Europe
(Cologne/the Hague [the exact place of publication is contested]: 1686),
Preface: 'nous avons si peu de connoisance de l'antiquite, ils ont travesti les
hommes a leur guise, & leur passion a ete le pinceau avec lequel ils nous les
ont peints'.
94 Henri due de Rohan, De I'interest des princes et estats de la Chrestiente (Paris,
1643: Augustin Courbe), dedicatory epistle to Richelieu: 'La raison vient, de
277
ce qu'on ne peut establir une regie immuable dans le gouvernement des
Estats. Ce qui cause la Revolution des affairs de ce monde, cause aussi le
changement des maximes fondamentales pour bien regner.'
95 Joan-Pau Rubies, 'Hugo Grotius's Dissertation on the Origin of the
American Peoples and the Use of Comparative Methods', Journal of the
History of Ideas, vol. 52: no. 2,1991 and also Tzvetan Todorov, The Conquest
of America (New York. 1992: Harper), pp. 185ff.
96 La Mothe le Vayer, Discours de la contrariite d'humeurs qui se trouve entre
certaines nationes, et singulierement entre lafrangoise et I'espagnole, in CEuvres
(Paris, 1662), vol. 1,157-91. Discussed in Church, Richelieu and the Reason of
State, p. 390.
97 Rohan, De I'interest des princes, p. 1: 'Les Princes commandent aux peuples
& I'interest commande aux Princes.'
98 Anon., Discours des princes et etats de la chrestiente plus considerables a la
France, selon les diverses qualitez et conditions, published in Mercure Frangais,
vol. 10,1625.
99 Rohan, De I'interest des princes, p. 1: 'La connoisance de cet interest, est
d'autant plus relevee par dessus celle des actions des Princes, qu'eux
mesmes le sont par dessus les peuples.'
100 La Rochefoucauld, Franc,ois due de: reflexions ou sentences et maximes
morales, ed. P. Morand (Paris, 1965), no. 171 quoted by Keohane, Philosophy
and the State in France, p. 291.
101 Jean Silhon, De la certitude des connoissances humaines (Paris, 1661), book II,
ch. 2, pp. 101-3 quoted by Keohane, Philosophy and the State in France,
p. 288.
102 Paul Gondi Cardinal de Retz, CEuvres, ed. A. Feillet (Paris, 1880), vol. 5,
p. 307, quoted by Keohane, Philosophy and the State in France, p. 226.
103 Gunn, Politics and the Public Interest, p. 43, see also J.A.W. Gunn, '"Interest
Will Not Lie": A Seventeenth-Century Political Maxim', Journal of the
History of Ideas, vol. 29,1968.
104 Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets des Princes de VEurope, p. 92; Samuel
von Pufendorf, An Introduction to the History of the Principal Kingdoms and
States of Europe (London: 1711), Preface; Paul Ardier, Memoire sur les affaires
generates de la chretiente au mois d'avril 1633, in Mathieu Mole, Memoires, vol.
4, pp. 166-223 (Paris, 1855-7: Jules Renouard), p. 166.
105 Jacob Viner, 'Power versus Plenty as Objectives of Foreign Policy in the
Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries', World Politics, vol. 1,1948 no. 1;
Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 186-9; Keohane, Philosophy and the State
in France, pp. 158-60.
106 Cf. Terence Ball, 'The Changing Face of Power', in T. Ball, Transforming
Political Discourse, (Oxford, 1988: Basil Blackwell), ch. 3; Keohane, Phil-
osophy and the State in France, pp. 267-70.
107 Thomas Hobbes, De Corpore, in English Works, ed. Molesworth, ch. 10.
108 I say 'resemble', since even if the vocabulary of game theory was not
accessible to the classics, decision theory was; see Ian Hacking, 'The Logic
of Pascal's Wager', American Philosophical Quarterly, vol. 9,1972, no. 2.
278
109 See G.M. Dillon, "The Alliance of Security and Subjectivity', Current
Research on Peace and Violence, vol. 13,1990, no. 3.
110 Hobbes, Leviathan, book 1, ch. 17, pp. 118-19, my emphasis.
I'll Baruch de Spinoza, A Treatise partly Theological and Partly Political (London,
1737), ch. 16, pp. 334-5.
112 As, for example, Thomas Schelling does, in his The Strategy of Conflict
(Cambridge, Mass., 1960: Harvard University Press), pp. 14,29-30,36-7.
113 Armand-Jean du Plessis, cardinal de Richelieu, Testament politique, ed.
Louis Andre (Paris, 1947: Lafont), p. 373; Richelieu and Reason of State, p. 500.
114 Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 134ff.
115 Rohan, De I'interest, pp. 3-8.
116 Samuel von Pufendorf, An Introduction to the History of Principal Kingdoms
and States of Europe (London, 1711), Preface.
117 Pufendorf, An Introduction, p. 3.
118 Ardier, Mhnoire, pp. 166-7.
119 Ibid., p. 188.
120 Ibid., p. 216.
121 Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets, pp. 14,26,40.
122 Ibid., p. 125.
123 Ibid., p. 3.
124 Ibid., p. 40.
125 Ibid., p. 40.
126 Ibid., Preface.
127 A.L.C. Destutt de Tracy, tlbnens d'ldiologie, vol. 1; (1801) (Paris, 1970: J.
Vrin) pp. 1-19.
128 Bacon, Of the Advancement of Learning, p. 162.
129 Anon., Discours des princes, this passage quoted in Friedrich Meinecke,
Machiavellism, p. 155 Since the only copy which I had access to was
severely damaged by worms, I have been unable to check this translation.
130 Rohan, De I'interest, dedicatory epistle to Richelieu.
131 Pufendorf, An Introduction, Preface.
132 Ardier, Mhnoire, p. 167.
133 Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets, pp. 3,57,119.
134 De Rebus Sueciis ab Expeditione Gustavi Adolphi in Germaniam ad Abdicationem
usque Christianae, 1677-88, Preface, translated in Meinecke, Machiavellism,
p. 236.
135 Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets, p. 3: 'nous sommes nis dans un
Etat, qui n'est sujet d'aucune de ces deux couronnes, mais nous faisons
profession de dire la verite'.
136 Rohan, De I'interest, p. 1: 'Le Prince se peut tromper, son conseil peut estre
corrompu; mais I'interest seul ne peut iamais manquer, selon qu'il est bien
ou mal entendu, il fait vivre ou mourir les Estats.'
137 Gunn,'Interest Will not Lie', pp. 555f.
138 Charles Herle, Interest Will not Lie or a View of England's True Interest
(London, 1659), p. 3, quoted in Gunn, 'Interest Will not Lie', p. 557.
139 Rohan, De I'interest, p. 26: 'qu'en matiere d'Estat on doit se laisser conduire
279
aux desks de regies qui nous emportent souvent a entreprendre des

choses au dela de nos forces, ny aux passions violentes qui nous agitent
diversement selon qu'elles nous possedent ... [m]ais a notre propre
intersest, guide1 par la seule raison, qui doit estre la regie de nos actions.'
140 Rohan, De I'interest, p. 48: 'les Venetiens suivent exactement ce qui estoit
de leur interest', p. 43: '[les Papes] poussez d'un zele inconsidere, ou
enflammez du desir de se signaler a la posterity, ou emportez par la
violence de leur passions'.
141 Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets, pp. 32,36.
142 Pufendorf, An Introduction, Preface.
143 Rene Descartes, Fourth Meditation, Selected Philosophical Writings, p. 100.
144 Ren Descartes, Sixth Meditation, Selected Philosophical Writings, pp. 116f.
145 See, for example, Richard Popkin, A History of Scepticism from Erasmus to
Spinoza (Berkeley, 1979: University of California Press).
146 Descartes, Sixth Meditation, p. 116.
147 Niccold Machiavelli, The Prince (Cambridge, 1989: Cambridge University
Press), dedicatory letter to Lorenzo de Medici, p. 4.
148 Gunn, 'Interest Will not Lie', p. 559.
149 Richelieu, Testament politique, book 2, ch. 9, no. 3, p. 375.
150 David Parker, The Making of French Absolutism (London, 1983: Edward
Arnold), p. 32 and passim.
151 Rohan, De I'interest, p. 8; Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux Interets, pp. 159,
230.
152 R.A. Klein, Sovereign Equality Among States: The History of an Idea (Toronto,
1974: University of Toronto Press).
153 Baruch de Spinoza, Ethics, part 4, Prop. 33 (London, 1959: Dent).
154 Charles Herle, Interest Will not Lie or a View of England's True Interest, p. 3,
quoted in Gunn, 'Interest Will not Lie', p. 557.
155 Anthony Giddens, The Nation-State and Violence (Oxford, 1985: Polity
Press), pp. 87, 256; John B. Wolf, Toward a European Balance of Power
1620-1715 (Chicago, 1970: Rand McNally), passim.
156 Rohan, De I'interest, pp. 2,12.
157 Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets, p. 92: 'Mais y a-t-il d'alliance a
l'e'preuve de l'interet, & quand l'interet parle, tout le reste ne se tait-il-pas'.
158 Anon., Interets et maximes des princes et des etats souverains (Cologne, 1666),
p. 5: 'Si deux Princes Souverains, yssus d'un mme tige, & ayans leurs
Etats voisins, sont inferieurs l'un a l'autre en dignity & en puissance, on les
verra de bonne intelligence ent/eux'.
159 Abraham de Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et ses fonctions (Cologne, 1690),
book 1, p. 1: 'une science qui ait ses principes mathematiques, ou qui son
fonde's sur des raisons demonstratives, sur lesquelles on puisse faire des
regies certaines and infaillibles'.
160 Abraham de Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et ses fonctions, book 2, p. 72: 'Les
principes de raisonement dans la politique sont aussy incertaines, que
ceux de la Mathematique sont infaillibles'.
161 Anort., Mhnoire: 'De remasser gen^ralement toutes les depesches, toutes
280
les negotiations, tous les traites, qu'on pourra trouver depuis deux cents
ans ou environ, de les mettre par ordre, par pays et par annee.' Quoted in
Armand Baschet, Histoire du Depot des Archives des Affaires Etrangtres (Paris,
1875), p. I l l and quoted and discussed in Maurice Keens-Soper, "The
French Political Academy7, 1712: A School for Ambassadors', European
Studies Review, vol. 2,1972, no. 4, p. 336.
162 Baschet, Histoire du Dipdt, p. 121; Keens-Soper, "The French Political
Academy, 1712' p. 333.
163 Baschet, Histoire du Dipdt, p. 120; Keens-Soper, "The French Political
Academy, 1712', p. 339.
164 Keens-Soper, "The French Political Academy, 1712', p. 345.
165 Maurice Keens-Soper, 'Frangois de Callieres and Diplomatic Theory', The
Historical Journal, vol. 16,1973, no. 3, p. 498.
166 Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et ses fonctions, book 1, p. 53.
167 Francois de Callieres, De la manitre de negocier avec les souverains (London,
1750: Jean Nourse), vol. 1, book 1, pp. 61-71; Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et
ses fonctions, book 2, pp. 7,12-3.
168 Callieres, De la manitre de negocier, vol. 1, book 1, p. 37; Wicquefort, L'Amb-
assadeur et ses fonctions, book 2, p. 99.
169 Callieres, De la manitre de negocier, vol. 1, book 1, pp. 41-7,201.
170. Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et ses fonctions, book 2, pp. 72,91; Callieres, De
la maniere de negocier, vol. 2, pp. 27,80,82-84.
171 Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et ses fonctions, book 2, pp. 32-4,114; Callieres,
De la maniere de negocier, vol. 1, p. 282.
172 Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et ses fonctions, book 1, ch. 27, p. 383: 'La Necess-
ity des Ambassades fait la seurete des Ambassadeurs, du consentement
universel de toutes les nations de la terre; & c'est ce consentement qui fait
qu'on apelle le Droit des Gens. II tient le milieu entre le Droit naturel & le
Droit civil, & est d'autant plus considerable que le dernier, qu'il ne peut
estre change1 n'y altered sinon du mesme consentement unanime de tous
les peuples. n n'y a point de Souverain, qui se puisse donner l'autorite
d'expliquer les loix, dont ce Droit est compose, & il n'y point de juge, qui
puisse estendre sa jurisdiction sur les personnes, que ce Droit protege;
parce qu'il troubleroit un commerce, dont la liberte est fondee sur une
necessity indispensable, & il osteroit de celuy des hommes le moyen de
conserver la societe, qui ne pourroit pas subsister sans ce printipe, qui est
plus que Mathematique.'
173 Callieres, De la manitre de negocier, vol. 1, ch. 1, p. 9: 'i'l faut considerer que
tous les Estats dont l'Europe est composed, ont entr'eux des liaisons & des
commerces necessaires qui font qu'on peut les regarder comme des
membres d'une meme R6publique, & qu'il ne peut presque point arriver
de changement considerable en quelques-uns de ses membres qui ne soit
capable de troubler le repos de tous les autres.'
174 See for example Claire A. Cutler, "The "Grotian Tradition" in International
Relations', Review of International Studies, vol. 17,1991, pp. 44-9,63-5; Bull,
The Anarchical Society, pp. 24f. For a criticism of this tendency to read into
281
Grotius doctrines he never could have advocated, see David Kennedy,

'Primitive Legal Scholarship', Harvard International Law Journal, vol. 27,
1986, no. 1, pp. 78ff. See also Hideini Suganami, 'A Note on the Origin
of the Word "International"', British Journal of International Studies,
vol. 4, 1978, for a criticism of the widespread habit of equating older
legal concepts with the modern notions of international system and
society.
175 Grotius, Dejuri Belli ac Pads Libri Tres, vol; 1, p. 121.
176 Ibid.
177 Wicquefort, L'Ambassadeur et sesfonctions, book 1, pp. 255f, book2, pp. 3-4,
49,58-72,91-4; Callieres, De la maniere de negocier, vol. 1, pp. 32-47,229,308,
313-14, vol. 2, pp. 33,42,61, 78, 82-84,204f, 229,231.
6 Reorganizing reality: sovereignty, modernity and the international
1 Jeremy Bentham, An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation
(New York, 1963: Hafner), p. 326.
2 Cf. F.H. Hinsley, Nationalism and the International System (London, 1973:
Hodder and Stoughton), pp. 69-83; F.H. Hinsley, Sovereignty, 2d ed. (Cam-
bridge, 1986: Cambridge University Press), pp. 204ff. H. Bull (The Anarchical
Society: A Study of Order in World Politics (London, 1977: Macmillan), p. 13)
who dates the rise of the international system earlier, sees this as a phase of
transition to what he calls a society of states, which 'exists when a group of
states, conscious of certain common interests and common values, form a
society in the sense that they conceive themselves to be bound by a
common set of rules in their relations with one another, and share in the
working of common institutions.' This distinction between 'system' and
'80061/ is arguably ontologically and methodologically void, see Geoffrey
Berridge, "The Political and Institutional History of States-Systems', British
Journal of International Studies, vol. 6,1980.
3 See David R. Lachtermann, The Ethics of Geometry: A Genealogy of Modernity
(New York, 1989: Routledge), pp. 1-24 for a similar argument.
4 Cf. note 2 above.
5 Cf. Michel Foucault, The Order of Things (London, 1991: Routledge),
pp. 218-230.
6 A similar interpretation has been proposed by Richard Ashley, 'Living on
Border Lines: Man, Poststructuralism, and War7, in J. DerDerian & M.
Shapiro, eds., International/Intertextual Relations (Lexington, Mass., 1989:
Lexington books), pp. 259-323, but then without the slightest sensitivity to
the historicity of the problem itself.
7 For an analysis of the problems with Hobbes's theory of contract, see Jean
Hampton, Hobbes and the Social Contract Tradition (Cambridge, 1986: Cam-
bridge University Press), pp. 189ff, also Alessandro Pizzorno, 'On the Indi-
vidualistic Theory of Social Order7 in P. Bourdieu, & J.S. Coleman, eds.,
Social Theory for a Changing Society (Boulder, 1991: Westview).
8 For examples of retrospective readings, see Sylvester John Hemleben, Plans
for Peace through Six Centuries (Chicago, 1943: Chicago University Press),
282
pp. 70ff; F.H. Hinsley, Power and the Pursuit of Peace (Cambridge, 1967:
Cambridge University Press). For a criticism of 'the myth of tradition' in
international relations theory, see Robert B.J. Walker, 'The Prince and "The
Pauper": Tradition, Modernity and Practice in the Theory of International
Relations' in James DerDerian & Michael J. Shapiro, eds., International/
Intertextual Relations: Postmodern Readings of World Politics (Lexington, 1989:
Lexington books), pp. 26-32.
9 See for example Michael Doyle, 'Liberalism and World Polities', American
Political Science Review, vol. 80,1986, no. 4; Richard Rosencrance, The Rise of
the Trading State (New York, 1986: Basic Books).
10 Jean Rousset, Les interets presens des puissances de I'Europe, vols. 1-3 (La Haye,
1733), vol. 1, Preface, f. 3: 'Mais il est arriv dans la situation des affaires de
I'Europe, depuis ce tems-la, des revolutions si extraordinaires qu'on ne
trouve plus une seule maxime dans ces Auteurs [Rohan & Courtilz] qui
puisse etre d'usage aujourd'hui; outre qu'on peut dire que le Due, ecrivant
en grand seigneur, etoit trop concis, & que 1'autre ecrivant en Auteur, etoit
trop prolixe & se jettoit souvent dans des disgressions ennuieuses.'
11 Jean Rousset, Les interets, Preface, f. 8.
12 Gabriel Bonnot de Mably, Des principes des nigociations pour servir d'introduc-
tion au droit public de I'Europe, fondi sur les traitis (Amsterdam, 1758), chs. 2,3,
4,5.
13 This separation of morals and politics has been thoroughly analysed by
Reinhart Koselleck, Critique and Crisis: Enlightenment and the Pathogenesis of
Modern Society (Oxford, 1988: Berg), pp. 23-48,145-83.
14 This point seems to have been overlooked by Ian M. Wilson, The Influence of
Hobbes and Locke in the shaping of the Concept of Sovereignty in Eighteenth-
century France: Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century (Banbury, 1973).
15 Charles Louis de Secondat Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws (Cambridge,
1989: Cambridge University Press), book 10.
16 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality in Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, The Social Contract and Discourses, ed. G.D.H. Cole (London, 1990:
Everyman's), p. 50. Cf. also Jean-Jacques Rousseau, L'Etat de Guerre in CE.
Vaughan, ed., The Political Writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, vol. 1 (Cam-
bridge, 1915: Cambridge University Press), p. 306.
17 Cf. Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, book 1, ch. 3: 'Each particular society
comes to feel its strength, producing a state of war among nations. The
individuals vvithin each society begin to feel their strength; they seek to
turn their favour the principal advantages of this society, which brings
about a state of war among them.'
18 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, in Rousseau,
77K Social Contract, p. 100.
19 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Extrait du projet de paix perpituelle de M. I'Abbi de
Saint Pierre in CE. Vaughan, The Political Writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau,
vol. 1, p. 365. For an analysis of Rousseau's theory of war, see Stanley
Hoffmann, 'Rousseau on War and Peace', in Stanley Hoffmann, The State of
War (New York, 1965: Praeger), pp. 54-87.
283
20 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, L'ttat de guerre, in C.E. Vaughan, ed., Political

Writings, vol. 1 p. 304: 'tXhomme a homme, nous vivons dans l'e'tat dvil et
sounds aux lois; de peuple a peuple, chacun jouit de la liberty naturelle: ce
qui rend au fond notre situation pire que si ses distinctions 6taient incon-
nues. Car vivant a la fois dans l'ordre social et dans l'6tat de nature, nous
sommes assujettis aux inconv^nients de l'un et de l'autre, sans trouver la
surety dans aucun des deux.'
21 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, L'ttat de guerre, in C.E. Vaughan, ed., Political
Writings, vol. 1, p. 304.
22 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, in Cole, ed.,
77K Social Contract, p. 112.
23 Butler, who misses the critical upshot of the text, sees Vattel's significance
in his having encapsulated 'agreements about identities and moral prior-
ities that characterised eighteenth-century Europe', a statement which
merely begs the question of what this agreement would consist in, 'Legiti-
macy in a States-System: Vattel's Law of Nations' in M. Donelan, ed., The
Reason of States: A Study in International Political Theory (London, 1978: Allen
& Unwin) p. 56.
24 Emerich de Vattel, The Law of Nations or the Principles of Natural Law, Applied
to the Conduct and to the Affairs of Nations and Sovereigns in James Brown
Scott, ed., The Classics of International Law (Washington, 1916: The Carnegie
Institution), vol. 3, p. 4.
25 Vattel, The Law of Nations, p. 5.
26 Ibid., p. 6.
27 Ibid., p. 6.
28 Ibid., p. 7.
29 Ibid., p. 251.
30 Ibid., p. 8.
31 Ibid., p. 11.
32 Ibid., pp. 13,20-2.
33 Ibid., p. 243.
34 Koselleck, Critique and Crisis, p. 160n6.
35 Reinhart Koselleck, 'Historical Criteria of the Modern Concept of Revo-
lution' in Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical Time (Boston, 1985: MIT
Press), pp. 42-3.
36 Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, book 5, ch. 11.
37 Koselleck, 'Historical Criteria', p. 43.
38 Ibid., pp. 46f.
39 M. le Marquis d'Argenson, Considerations sur le gouvernement ancien et
present de la France, compari avec celui des autres itats, 2nd edn (Liege, 1787),
p. 12: 'Tout est revolution dans ce Monde; les Etats ont leur temps de
progres & de decadence.'
40 Guillaume Thomas Raynal, Histoire philosophique et politique des itablissemens
et du commerce de Europiens dans les Deux Indes (Neuchatel & Geneve, 1783),
vol. I, p. 2: 'Tout est change* & doit changer encore. Mais les revolutions
284
passes & celles qui doivent suivre ont-elles t, seront-elles utiles a la nature
humaine? L'homme decra-t-il un jour plus de tranquillity, de bonheur & de
plaisir? Son etat sera-t-il meilleur, ou ne sera-t-il que changer?' Subsequent
notes to Raynal's text will be redered thus: volume: chapter: page.
41 Raynal, Histoire Philosophique et Politique, IX:II:38: 'ces inormes machines
qu'on appelle societes, ou, bandes les un contre les autres, Us agissent &
ragissent avec toute la violence de leur nergie particuliere, on cre'a
artificiellement un veritable tat de guerre, & d'une guerre varie'e par une
multitude innombrable d'inte'rets & d'opinions'.
42 Ibid.,IX:n:40-l.
43 Ibid., IX:II:53.
44 Ibid., IX:n:42.
45 Ibid., IX:III:128: 'Les bassins de la balance politique ne seront jamais dans
un parfait equilibre, i assez juste pour determiner le deg6s de puissance
avec une exacte precision. Peut-etre mme ce systeme d'^galit^ n'est-il
qu'un chimere. La balance ne peut s'tablir que par des traits, & les trails
n'ont aucune solidite qu'entre des souverains absolus, & non entre des
nations. Ces actes doivent subsister entre des peuples, parce qu'ils ont pour
objet la paix & la surety qui sont leurs plus grands biens: mais un despote
sacrifie toujours ses sujets a son inequitude, & ses engagemens a son
ambition.'
46 Koselleck, Critique and Crisis, p. 183.
47 Raynal, Histoire Philosophique et Politique, IX:III:129.
48 Thomas Paine, The Rights of Man (Harmondsworth, 1971: Penguin) p. 233.
49 Ibid., p. 234.
50 Ibid., p. 239.
51 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, in Cole, ed.,
The Social Contract and Discourses, p. 51.
52 Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 242ff.
53 Ibid., p. 236.
54 Precisely this mixture, when becoming folklore later in the nineteenth
century, provoked Nietzsche's furious attack on History; see his 'On the
Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life' (1874) in Untimely Meditations
(Cambridge, 1989: Cambridge University Press), pp. 57-124.
55 Giambattista Vico, The New Science (Ithaca, 1968: Cornell University Press),
34, p. 21.
56 Ibid., 51, p. 33.
57 Ibid., 354, p. 106.
58 Ibid., 145, p. 64.
59 Ibid., 238, p. 78.
60 Ibid., 146, p. 64.
61 Ibid., 163, p. 67.
62 Ibid., 161, p. 67.
63 Lachtermann, The Ethics of Geometry, pp. 7f. Cf. also P. Verene, Vice's Science
of Imagination (Ithaca, 1981: Cornell University Press), ch. 2.
285
64 Vico, De Antiquissima, p. 150, quoted in Isaiah Berlin, Vico and Herder: Two
Studies in the History of Ideas (London, 1976: Hogarth), p. 17.
65 Vico, The New Science, 331, p. 96.
66 Ibid., 320-1, p. 93.
67 Ibid., 332, p. 97.
68 Ibid., 347, p. 104.
69 Ibid., 349, p. 104.
70 The influence - whether direct or indirect - of Vico upon Rousseau has
been debated, and it is still disputed whether Rousseau ever read the
Scienza Nuova; see, for example, Ernst Cassirer, The Philosophy of Symbolic
Forms (New Haven, 1953: Yale University Press), vol. 1, ch. 1. The main
difference, however, is that Vico sees divine providence as the source of
language (Berlin, Vico and Herder, part 1, passim), and speech and writing as
contemporaneous forms (The New Science, % 3), while Rousseau, however
unsuccessfully, tries to place the origin of language on a wholly secular
footing while insisting on the separation of writing and speech, thus
prefiguring de Saussure; Jacques Derrida, "The Linguistic Circle of Geneva',
in Margins of Philosophy (Brighton, 1982: Harvester Press), pp. 137-54.
71 Rousseau, A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, p. 44.
72 Ibid., pp. 64-6.
73 Ibid., pp. 67-8.
74 Ibid., p. 102.
75 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, An Essay on the Origin of Languages, pp. 38-9, quoted
. and discussed extensively in Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology (Baltimore
& London, 1976: Johns Hopkins), pp. 256ff.
76 Derrida, Of Grammatology, pp. 257-9.
77 Cf. the opening phrases in Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract, in
Cole, ed., The Social Contract and Discourses, p. 181.
78 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, tmile (Paris, 1929: Gamier), pp. 73,105, discussed
further in Derrida, Of Grammatology, pp. 170f.
79 Derrida, Of Grammatology, pp. 170f.
80 Johann Gottfried Herder, Essay on the Origin of Language in F.M. Barnard,
ed., J.G. Herder on Social and Political Culture (Cambridge, 1969: Cambridge
University Press), p. 137.
81 Ibid., p. 163.
82 Ibid., p. 135.
83 Ibid., pp. 141-2.
84 Ibid., p. 143.
85 Ibid., p. 147.
86 Ibid., p. 169.
87 Cf. Berlin, Vico and Herder, p. 153.
88 Herder, Essay on the Origin of Language, pp. 170,174.
89 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Pure Reason (London, 1985: Macmillan),
Preface to the first edition, p. 7.
90 Ibid., Preface to the second edition, p. 24.
286
91 Ibid., p. 18.
92 Ibid.,p.l9.
93 Ibid., p. 27, text pp. 577-8.
94 Foucault, The Order of Things, pp. 244-50.
95 For a study of the formative moments of modernity and social science
within the state, see John F. Rundell, Origins of Modernity: The Origins of
Modern Social Theory From Kant to Hegel to Marx (Cambridge, 1987: Polity
Press), esp. pp. 14-77.
96 See, for example, Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on
the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London, 1991: Verso).
97 See Hinsley, Nationalism and the International System, pp. 35-63.
98 To my knowledge, Rousseau is the first in modernity to use the concept
Tx)dy politic' to denote the union of state and nation; see especially The
Social Contract, ch. 4 and A Discourse on Political Economy, in Cole, ed., The
Social Contract and Discourses, p. 132-3.
99 Argenson, Considerations, pp. 22-4: For an discussion of d'Argenson, see
Nannerl O. Keohane, Philosophy and the State in France: The Renaissance to
the Enlightenment (Princeton, 1980: Princeton University Press), pp. 376f.
100 Rousseau, The Social Contract, p. 191. Except for Hoffmann, 'Rousseau on
War and Peace', pp. 65-67, the subdued dialectic between internal order
and external and generalized war in Rousseau has not - as far as I know -
attracted much attention.
101 Ibid., p. 205.
102 Ibid., pp. 200-2.
103 Ibid., p. 200.
104 Ibid., p. 216.
105 This problem is further discussed by William Connolly, Political Theory and
Modernity (Oxford, 1988: Basil Blackwell), pp. 53f, but he fails to notice the
external aspect of the general will, and instead settles for the doctrine of
civil religion as the solution to the problem.
106 Rousseau, The Social Contract, p. 216.
107 Ibid., p. 211.
108 Rousseau's influence on Kant was pervasive. See for example Ernst Cas-
sirer, Rousseau, Goethe, Kant: Two Essays (Princeton, 1970: Princeton Uni-
versity Press); Hans Saner, Kant's Political Thought: Its Origins and Develop-
ments (Chicago, 1973: Chicago University Press); Ernst Cassirer, Kant's Life
and Thought (New Haven, 1981: Yale University Press).
109 Immanuel Kant, Perpetual Peace in H. Reiss, ed., Kant: Political Writings
(Cambridge, 1991: Cambridge University Press), p. 94.
110 Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals in Reiss, ed., Kant: Political
Writings, p. 140.
111 Immanuel Kant, On the Common Saying: This May be True in Theory, but it
does not Apply in Practice' in Reiss, ed., Kant: Political Writings, p. 79.
112 Immanuel Kant, Idea for a Universal History, in Reiss, ed., Kant: Political
Writings, p. 44.
287
113 Kant, Perpetual Peace, p. 112.

114 Kant, Idea for a Universal History, p. 47; Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals,
p. 165.
115 While the internal determinations of the Hegelian state have been
thoroughly analysed and discussed, this cannot be said about the external
determinations. See, for example, Z.A. Pelczynski, "The Hegelian Concep-
tion of the State' in Pelczynski, ed., Hegel's Political Philosophy: Problems and
Perspectives (Cambridge, 1971: Cambridge University Press), pp. 1-29:
Charles Taylor, Hegel (Cambridge, 1975: Cambridge University Press), ch.
16; Peter J. Steinberger, Logic and Politics: Hegel's Philosophy of Right (New
Haven, 1988: Yale University Press), passim. Even in a recent study such as
Dallamayr's, the external aspects of the Hegelian state are somewhat
neglected, see Fred R. Dallamayr, G. W. F. Hegel: Modernity and Politics
(Newbury Park, 1993: SAGE), esp. pp. 155-64. A notable exception is,
however, Shlomo Avineri, Hegel's Theory of the Modern State (Cambridge,
1974: Cambridge University Press), who in chapter 10 briefly discusses the
external determinations of the state in the context of Hegel's theory of war.
116 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, The German Constitution, in Hegel's Political
Writings (Oxford, 1964: Clarendon), p. 153.
117 Ibid., p. 158.
118 Ibid., p. 159.
119 Ibid., p. 158.
120 Ibid., p. 227.
121 Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Elements of the Philosophy of Right, H. B.
Nisbet, trans., A.W. Wood, ed. (Cambridge, 1991: Cambridge University
Press), 274, p. 213.
122 Ibid., 257-8: pp. 275-6.
123 Ibid., 259,271.
124 Ibid., 270 addition p. 302.
125 Ibid., 260, p. 282.
126 Ibid., 321, p. 359.
127 Ibid., 322, p. 360.
128 Ibid., 323, p. 360.
129 Ibid., 324, p. 362.
130 Ibid., 278,279, pp. 316-18.
131 Cf. Avineri, Hegel's Theory of the Modern State, pp. 185-9.
132 Hegel, Elements of the Philosophy of Right, 279, p. 319.
133 To my knowledge, no one has hitherto bothered to compare Hegel's
theory of the sovereign with Carl Schmitt's decisionism, see Carl Schmitt,
Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty (1922) (Boston,
1985: MIT Press), ch.l.
135 Ibid., no. 330-1, pp. 366-7.
136 Ibid., no. 330, p. 366, see also G.W.F. Hegel, 'The Philosophical History of
the World', second draft (1830) in G.W.F. Hegel, Lectures on the Philosophy of
World History (Cambridge,1975: Cambridge University Press), p. 124.
288
137 Hegel, Philosophical History of the World, p. 28.

139 Hegel, Philosophical History of the World, pp. 40f, 50f, Elements of the Phil-
osophy of Right, no. 342, p. 372.
140 Hegel, Philosophical History of the World, pp. 51f, 63.
142 Hegel, Philosophical History of the World, pp. 93f.
143 Cf. Reinhart KoseUeck, 'Historia Magistra Vitae: The Dissolution of the
Topos into the Perspective of a Modernized Historical Process', in Futures
Past, pp. 31-5.
144 Savigny, Zeitschrift fur geschichtliche Wissenschaft, vol. 1,1815, no. 4, quoted
in Koselleck, 'Historia Magistra Vitae', p. 38.
145 Theodore Mommsen, Romische Geschichte (Berlin, 1882), vol. 3, p. 477,
quoted in Koselleck, 'Historia Magistra Vitae', p. 38.
147 See Hayden White, Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-
Century Europe (Baltimore & London, 1973: Johns Hopkins), pp. 141ff.
148 Frederic Ancillon, Considerations generates sur I'histoire (Berlin, 1801),
pp. 62-3.
149 Wilhelm von Humboldt, On the Historian's Task (1821), History and Theory,
vol. 6,1967, no. 1, p. 59.
150 Ibid., p. 58.
151 Ibid., p. 58.
152 Ibid., p. 58.
153 Ibid., p. 61.
154 Ibid., p. 64.
155 Ibid., p. 65.
156 Ibid., p. 65 my emphasis.
157 Leopold Ranke, History of the Latin and Teutonic Nations, 1494-1514, tr. by
P.A. Ashworth (London, 1887), Preface, reprinted in Fritz Stern, ed., The
Varieties of History: From Voltaire to the Present (New York, 1956: Meridian
books), p. 62.
158 Humboldt, On the Historian's Task, p. 60.
159 Ibid., p. 69.
160 Leopold Ranke, The Great Powers in Theodore H. von Laue, Leopold Ranke:
The Formative Years, Princeton Studies in History, vol. 4 (Princeton, 1950:
Princeton University Press), p. 181.
161 Ibid., p. 182.
162 Leopold Ranke, A Dialogue on Politics, in Theodore H. von Laue, Leopold
Ranke: The Formative Years, p. 180.
163 Ranke, The Great Powers, pp. 182-3.
164 Ibid., p. 217.
165 Ibid., p. 217.
166 See Richard Little, 'Deconstructing the balance of power: two traditions of
thought', Review of International Studies, vol. 15, 1989, pp. 87-100. Little,
289
however, fails to discern both the epistemic foundations of the various

concepts of balance of power, and their historical consequences.
167 Mably, Des principes des negociations, ch. 6, p. 79-81.
168 I. Kant, On the Common Saying: 'This May be True in Theory, but it does not
Apply in Practice', in H. Reiss, ed., Kant: Political Writing (Cambridge, 1991:
Cambridge University Press), p. 92.
169 Ancillon, Considerations gbiirales, pp. 94f, Friedrich von Gentz, Fragments
upon the Balance of Power in Europe (London, 1806: Pettier), passim; Carl von
Clausewitz, On War, book 6, ch. 6:1 have here relied on Aron's interpreta-
tion of Clausewitz; see Aron Raymond, Penser la guerre, Clausewitz, vol. 1,
L'Age Europeen (Paris, 1976: Gallimard), p. 173.
170 Ranke, The Great Powers, p. 189.
171 Edmund Burke, Letters on a Regicide Peace, vol. 2, p. 345-6, vol. 3, pp. 441-3,
in Edmund Burke, Works, (London, 1899).
172 A.H.L. Heeren, Handbuch der Geschichte des Europaischen Staatensystems und
seiner Kolonien, Historische Werke, vol. 9-10 (Gottingen, 1822), vol. 9, p. 6:
'Die Geschichte des Europaischen Staaten-Systems ist keineswegs die
Geschichte der einzelnen Staaten. Sie ist vielmehr die Geschichte iherer
Behaltnisse gegen einander; besonders der Hauptstaaten, insofern sie sich
aus dem Wesen der einzelnen; der Personlichkeit der Gewalthaber; und
den herrschenden Ideen der Zeit entwickelten. Allgemeine Bedingung
des Wechsels dieser Berhaltnisse, und das her allgemeiner Charakter
dieses Staatensystems, war aber seiner innere Freiheit, d.i. die Selbstan-
digheit und wechselseitige Unabhangigheit seiner Glieder. Zu zeigen wie
dieser gebildet, gefahrdet, erhalten wurde, - bleibt also die Hauptausgabe
fur den Geschichtschreiber; sie aber nur durch die Entwicklung der
ganzen Reihe der innern Berhaltnisse des Systems, und der Ursachen die
sie erzeugten, gelost werden kann.'
173 Carl von Clausewitz, On War (Harmondsworth, 1984: Penguin), book 5,
addition b, p. 378. Cf. also Aron, Penser La Guerre, Clausewitz, vol. 1,
pp. 325-7.
174 For an analysis of utopianism and state practices in the classical age, see
James DerDerian, On Diplomacy: a Genealogy of Western Estrangement
(Oxford, 1987: Basil Blackwell), pp. 141-52, also, from another perspective,
Krishnan Kumar, Utopia and Anti-Utopia in Modern Times (Oxford, 1986:
Basil Blackwell).
175 Cf. Henri due de Rohan, De I'interest des Princes et Estats de la Chrestiente
(Paris, 1643: Augustin Courbe).
176 Cf. Gatien Courtilz de Sandras, Nouveaux interets des Princes de I'Europe
(Cologne/the Hague (the exact place remains contested) 1686), table.
177 Ren6 Descartes, A Discourse on Method, tr by J. Cottingham, R. Stootthoff
and D. Murdoch in Descartes, Selected Philosophical Writings (Cambridge,
1988: Cambridge University Press), pp. 32-3.
179 Ibid., pp. 152-208.
290
180 Heeren, Handbuch, vol. 10, p. 408.
181 Ranke, The Great Powers, p. 187.
182 Cf. Hemleben, Plans for Peace through Six Centuries, pp. 42ff. This perhaps
helps to explain the alleged 'realism' of Cruce's Nouveaux Cyneas (DerDer-
ian, On Diplomacy, pp. 146-7).
183 Rousseau, Extrait Du Projet, in Vaughan, Political Writings, vol. 1, pp. 374-9.
184 Clausewitz, On War, p. 120, my emphasis.
185 Rousseau, Extrait Du Projet, p. 387: 'ce n'est done pas qu'il soit chimerique;
e'est que les hommes sont insenses, et que e'est une sorte de folie d'etre
sage au milieu des fous'. Cf. also Jugement sur la Paix Perpetuelle, in
Vaughan, Political Writings, p. 396.
186 Hidemi Suganami, The Domestic Analogy and World Order Proposals (Cam-
bridge, 1989: Cambridge University Press).
187 Hegel, Elements of the Philosophy of Right, no. 324 addition, p. 362.
188 Kant, Idea, pp. 41-2, and Immanuel Kant, The Contest of the Faculties in H.
Reiss, ed., Kant: Political Writings. This aspect has been more fully elabor-
ated by Y. Yovel, Kant and the Philosophy of History (Princeton, 1980:
Princeton University Press).
189 Kant, Idea for a Universal History, p. 41.
190 Cf. Jean-Francois Lyotard, The Differend: Phrases in Dispute (Manchester,
1988: Manchester University Press), pp. 161-71. For a comment on Lyo-
tard's quite idiosyncratic interpretation of Kant, see David Ingram, The
Postmodern Kantianism of Arendt and Lyotard', Review of Metaphysics, vol.
42,1988.
191 Waltz, in his Man, the State, and War: a Theoretical Analysis (New York, 1959:
Columbia University Press), pp. 162f and in 'Kant, Liberalism and War',
American Political Science Review, vol. 56, 1962, pp. 337-40, interprets the
Kantian theory of international relations wholly in the context of his moral
philosophy and regards the internal moral perfection of states as the
ultimate condition of perpetual peace, which in turn is assimilated to
purely moral ends. To Hinsley, Kantian peace is propelled by the collabor-
ation of natural and moral forces, but concludes his interpretation with a
tilt in favour of the latter; F.H. Hinsley, Power and the Pursuit of Peace
(Cambridge, 1967: Cambridge University Press), pp. 69-80. Gallie, perhaps
more sensitive to the conflict between moral reason and natural necessity
which animates Kant's later philosophy, nevertheless holds that 'the
requirements of practical (moral) reason impose and define the task of
peace between nations'. W.B. Gallie, Philosophers of Peace and War (Cam-
bridge, 1978: Cambridge University Press), p. 34.
Apart from these authors, who as a result of their emphasis of the moral
dimension of the project of peace end up in an all but optimistic view of
the possibility of its realization, there are authors who have focused on the
alleged inevitability of peace. Read from this vantage point, perpetual
peace becomes not so much dependent on voluntary agency, but rather
the result of the benevolent workings of an invisible - that is, systemic -
292
hand in international politics, which in the long run is said to produce

cooperation out of conflict. Thus, the inner logic of anarchy and conflict
constitutes the main force of peace: as Doyle has argued, 'our guarantee of
perpetual peace does not rest on ethical conduct... [but on] how ... free
and intelligent devils could be motivated by fear, force, and calculated
advantage to undertake a course of action whose outcome we could
reasonably anticipate to be perpetual peace'. Michael Doyle, 'Liberalism
and World Polities', American Political Science Review, vol. 80,1986, no. 4,
p. 1159. Modelski, assimilating Kant to his theory of evolutionary learning
in world politics, similarly argues that Kant's project of perpetual peace is
'a study in self-organization because it asserts the possibility of morpho-
genetic change in the world system ... tending to bring about a condition
of lasting peace'. George Modelski, 'Is World Politics Evolutionary Learn-
ing?', International Organization, vol. 44,1990, no. 1, pp. 4-6. Finally, Kriele,
although an industrious reader of Kantian texts, somewhat naively cele-
brates the spirit of capitalist democracy as an autonomous force in world
politics that will render perpetual peace inevitable. Martin Kriele, Die
demokratische Weltrevolution (Munich, 1987: Piper), passim.
192 Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Judgment (New York, 1951: Hafner), p. 12.
193 Cassirer fails to see any clear continuity between Kant's political phil-
osophy and the Critique of Judgment (Cassirer, Kant's Life and Thought,
pp. 271ff), while Saner misses the antagonistic and unresolved play of the
faculties in the Third Critique (Saner, Kant's Political Thought, pp. 280ff). The
importance of the Third Critique remains disputed: see Patrick Riley, "The
"Elements" of Kant's Practical Philosophy', Political Theory, vol. 14,1986,
no. 4, pp. 564f. ^
194 Kant, The Critique of Judgment, p. 13.
195 Kant, Perpetual Peace, pp. 108-9.
196 Kant, The Critique of Judgment, p. 244.
197 Ibid., pp. 256-8.
198 Kant, The Contest of the Faculties, p. 177.
199 Ibid., pp. 180-1.
200 Ibid., p. 180.
201 Kant, Critique of Judgment, p. 112.
202 Ibid., pp. 105-6; Kant, The Contest of the Faculties, p. 182.
203 Cf. Jean-Francois Lyotard, L'Enthousiasme. La critique Kantienne de I'histoire
(Paris, 1986: Galitee), pp. 45ff.
7 Conclusion: the end of sovereignty
1 Cf. James N. Rosenau, 'Sovereignty in a Turbulent World', paper presented
at the Conference on Sovereignty and Collective Intervention, Hanover,
NH (18-20 May 1992).
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313
Index
Aegidius Romanus 93 and the locus of sovereignty 27

agency and structure 17,43, 44-9 and the origin of the international
Ancillon,F. 222,226 system 86,137
Andreas de Isernia 98-9 and the scope of sovereignty 29,31
Ardier,P. 168,172 see also international political theory
Argenson,M. 196,211,220 Burke, E. 227
Aristotle
and examples 8,76, 77 Callieres,F. 184
and the concept of politics 101,102,129 Campanella, T. 141,229
and time 97,99, 265n49 Cardinal de Retz 162
Aron, R. Cassirer, E. 114
on the identity of international Charron, P. 158
relations 22,23, 50 Clausewitz, C. 226-7,228,231
on the locus of sovereignty 27 Clement V 99
on the scope of sovereignty 30, 31, Collingwood, R. G. 58, 222
32-3,34 Comenius 141,229
see also international political theory conceptual analysis
Ashley, R. 18,83 and ambiguity 13-16
Austin, J. 61,67 and deconstruction 19-21
possibility of 199
Bachelard, G. 5 Condillac, E. B. 149, 205
Bacon, F. 79, 85,145,159,229 contract theories
balance of power classical 148-50
classical concept of 181 modern 190, 211-20
modern concept of 226-7 Courtilz de Sandras, G.
Baldus de Ubaldis 99 and analysis 168-9
Barnes, B. 54 and balance of power 181
Bartolus of Saxoferrato 105 and passion 160
Bentham,J. 186 and truth 171,173
Berlin, I. 115 and war 180
Bloor, D. 54. criticism
Bodin, J. classical impossibility of 153-4
and sovereignty 1, 29,104,141-3 and modernity 190-8, 209
and witches 66-7 Culler, J. 71
Bude, G. 85
Bull,H. Dante Alighieri 90,103,105, 204
and the identity of international Davidson, D. 62
relations 23 deconstruction 19-21
314
Index
Delany, S 94 Hinsley, F. H. 60
Deleuze,G. 53,71 Hintze, O. 38
Derrida,J. 12,20 Hirschmann, A. O. 157-8
Descartes, R. history
and inaccessability to classical understanding of 160-1,
representation 170,230 245
and indubitability of interest 176-8 effective 7-8,73-5, 240
and interstate morality 158 episodical 7-8,75-6,240
and knowledge 143-4 exemplary 7-8, 76-S, 240,274n30
and superstition 85,159 and interest 160-71
Dessler,D. 17 and the international system 221-9
Destutt de Tracy, A. L. C. 172 modern understanding of 198-209,220,
Dilthey,W. 222 221-36,245
diplomacy 181-5 renaissance understanding of 100,110,
dissimulation 116-18 245
Donation of Constantine 100 Hobbes, T.
Dunn,J. 54 and international relations 139,
183-4
Elias,N. 38 and language 146-9,151,160
Engels, F. 37, 38 and power 163
English Civil War 157 and science 158-9
and security 164
Fernindez-Santamaria, J. A. 129 and sovereignty 1,153
finalism 54-60,229-36 Holzgrefe, G. 60
Foucault, M. Humboldt,W. 222,223-5
on autonomy and primacy of Hythlodaeus, R. 122,123
discourse 69, 72
on classical knowledge 140 identity
and genealogy 74,78,239 classical 138,165,170-1
on power and knowledge 78-84 modern 208-9,210-20,242-3
on representation 146,199 indians
and Spanish dominion 131-4
Gadamer, H.-G. 58 innovation 113-18,120-1,160
genealogy 7-8,73-8 interest
Gentillet, I. 114 consequences of 179-85
Gentz, F. 226 duality of 160-71
Giddens,A. 17,46 and identity of states 163-4,170-1
Gierke, O. 90 and passions 157-60,175-7,180
Greenblatt, S. 122 and truth 171-9
Grotius, H. 137,139-40,183-4,273nl2 international law
Gunn,J.A.W. 157 and criticism 194-5
and universalism 128-34
Heeren, A. L. 85,222,227-9,230 international political theory
Hegel, G. W. F. constitution of 221-29
and dialectic 211 sampling of 251-2n26
and history 55,85,222,230 and sovereignty 21-55
and the modern state 215-20 international system
Henvry IV 93 constitution of 209-10,221-29
Henry VII 99 definitions of 282n2
Henry VIII 111 origin of 85-87,137,186
Herder, J. G. 205-6 Investiture Contest 93
Herle, C. 162,174,180
hermeneutics 58-65 James, A. 16,30
Herz,J. 30 John of Salisbury 94
Hexter,J.H. 112,124 just war doctrine 128,133-4
315
Index
Kant, I. and Utopia 121-7,141,197
and balance of power 226 Morgenthau, H.
constructivism of 85,186,188 and the identity of international
and dialectic 211,213-15,216,220 relations 23,221
interpretations of 291-2nl91 and the locus of sovereignty 26,218
and knowledge 199,207-8,222 and representation 34-5
and language 15 and the scope of sovereignty 30,31,
and peace 232-6 32
Kantorowicz, E. 92
Keens-Soper, M. 182 Naud6,G. 158
Kennedy, D. 128 Nedham,M. 162
Keohane,N. O. 157- Nietzsche, F.
knowledge and history 13,54
based on analogy and allegory 91-5 and genealogy 73, 75,239
based on exempla 99-101,108-11 and reality 19
based on resemblance 108-11,144
and mathesis 143-50 Onuf, N. G. 60
modern forms of 198-209 Ottoman Empire 108
and power 78-82
and sovereignty 5-7, 78-84,239-41 Paine, T. 198
Knutsen, T. L. 60 parergonality 49-52,190,239,248
Koselleck,R. 195 PaulV 175
Kratochwil, F. 17 peace
modern strategies of 229-36
La Rochefoucauld, F. 162 renaissance understanding of 110
Lachterman, D. R. 144 Peace of Lodi 89
Lipsius,J. 158 Peace of Westphalia 137
Locke, J. 147,151,160 periodization
Louis XIV 153 criteria of 84-7
Lyons, J. D. 120-1 Pindar 117
piracy 105-7
Mably, G. B. 9,192,195-6,226 Plato 95,269nl32
McCanles,M. 115 Pocock, J. G. A. 54,115
Machiavelli, N. Pole,R. 114
and exemplary knowledge 117,120-1 power
and the general theory of the state 89, and interest 163,169-70
101,134-6,242 and knowledge 78-82
and innovation 111-15 presentism 54-60,228
and the discoveries 127 PriezacD. 153
macrosociology Pufendorf, S.
constitution of 221-9 and the concept of system 136, 272n4
sampling of 251-2n26 and contract 148-9,190
and sovereignty 35-44 and history 159,166-7
Manicas, P. 54 and interest 166
Marinus 98 and language 148-9
MaritainJ. 82 and source criticism 173,175
Marsiglio of Padua 102-5,130
Meinecke, F. 89,155 Ranke, L. 210,222,225-6,228,231
Michelet,J. 222 rationality 61-5
Mommsen, T. 221 RaynaLG. T. 196-8,229
Montaigne, M. 75,158 Reason of State 154-7,194,202
Montesquieu, C. L. 9,193,195, 226 reformation 132,141
More, T. representation 10,35,145-50,153,
and the general theory of the state 89, 199-200,267n89
101,134-6,240 reputation 162-6,170,180
316
Index
revolution modern theories of 188-9,210-20

concept of 195-8 and society 41-4
Richelieu, A. P. 137,165,179 and territory 29-31,40-1
Ricoeur, P. 96 Strauss, L. 114
Robert of Naples 99 structuration theory 44-9
Rohan, H.
and analysis 172,174,175 Thirty Years War 140,167
and balance of power 181 Thomas Aquinas 60
and history 159 time
and interest of states 166,168 medieval doctrines of 95-8
and war 180 and nominalism 107,134
Roman Empire 100,119 and peace 235-6
Rosenberg, A. 54 relationship to historiography 73, 77-8
Rousseau, J.-J.
and absolutism 194,195 Valla, L. 85,100
and dialectic 211-14,216,220 Vattel,E. 194-5,226
and language 149,198-9,202-5,206, Vico, G.
207 and history 85,206,207
and peace 229,230, 232 and language 200-1,206
and war 193-4 and modern knowledge 188,201-2,222
Rousset, J. 9,191-2,195-6 Viroli,M. 154
RuggieJ.G. 17 virtue 114-15,119,120
Vitoria, F.
St Augustine 96-7, 111, 236 and the general theory of the state 89,
St Matthew 92 101,135-6
St Peter 92 and Indians 131-2
Savigny, F. 221 and knowledge 127-8,240,242
Schmitt, C. 26,88,153,154, 218 and sovereignty 129-30
Searle,J. 61,67 and war 130,132-4
security 162-5,170,180
SilhonJ, 162 Waltz, K.
Skinner, Q. 54,58-69,115,124 and the identity of international
Spinoza, B. 164,180,190 relations 23-4, 34,210
Sprat, T. 151 and the locus of sovereignty 28
states and the scope of sovereignty 30,32, 33
classical theories of 137-9 wealth 162-5,170
consolidation of 38-42 Weber, M. 37, 38,221
formation of 37-42 Wendt,A. 17
general theory of 90-108 Wicquefort, A. 181-2
and international political Wight, M. 23,31, 32, 34,85
theory 22-33 Wilks,M. 93
and nation 32-3,210-20 William of Moerbeke 101
and macrosociology 35-44 Williams, H. 60
medieval doctrines of 91-107 Wittgenstein, L. 61,68
317
CAMBRIDGE STUDIES IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS
27 John A. Vasquez
The war puzzle
26 Stephen Gill (ed.)
Gramsci, historical materialism and international relations
25 Mike Bowker and Robin Brown (eds.)
From Cold War to collapse: theory and world politics in the 1980s
24 R.B.J. Walker
Inside/outside: international relations as political theory
23 Edward Reiss
The Strategic Defense Initiative
22 Keith Krause
Arms and the state: patterns of military production and trade
21 Roger Buckley
US-Japan alliance diplomacy 1945-1990
20 James N. Rosenau and Ernst-Otto Czempiel (eds.)
Governance without government: order and change in world
politics
19 Michael Nicholson
Rationality and the analysis of international conflict
18 John Stopford and Susan Strange
Rival states, rival firms
Competition for world market shares
17 Terry Nardin and David R. Mapel (eds.)
Traditions of international ethics
16 Charles F. Doran
Systems in crisis
New imperatives of high politics at century's end
15 Deon Geldenhuys
Isolated states: a comparative analysis
14 Kalevi J. Holsti
Peace and war: armed conflicts and international order 1648-1989
13 Saki Dockrill
Britain's policy for West German rearmament 1950-1955
12 Robert H. Jackson
Quasi-states: sovereignty, international relations and the Third
World
11 James Barber and John Barratt
South Africa's foreign policy
The search for status and security 1945-1988
10 James Mayall
Nationalism and international society
9 William Bloom
Personal identity, national identity and international relations
8 Zeev Maoz
National choices and international processes
7 Ian Clark
The hierarchy of states
Reform and resistance in the international order
6 Hidemi Suganami
The domestic analogy and world order proposals
5 Stephen Gill
American hegemony and the Trilateral Commission
4 Michael C. Pugh
The ANZUS crisis, nuclear visiting and deterrence
3 Michael Nicholson
Formal theories in international relations
2 Friedrich V. Kratochwil
Rules, norms, and decisions
On the conditions of practical and legal reasoning in international
relations and domestic affairs
1 Myles L.C. Robertson
Soviet policy towards Japan
An analysis of trends in the 1970s and 1980s

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What is the main topic of discussion in the text?

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What other book is mentioned in the text?

The concept of sovereignty is central to international relations theory

and theories of state formation, and provides the foundation of the

International Political Economy

Cambridge Studies in International Relations is a joint initiative of

Cambridge University Press 1995

First published 1995

A cataloguerecordfor this bookis availablefrom the BritishLibrary

Libraryof Congresscataloguingin publicationdata

ISBN O521 47308 X hardback

Transferred to digital printing 200 I

1 Introduction: sovereignty and fire 1

This book is a treatise on political knowledge. It is a book about the

What is sovereignty? If there are questions political science ought to be

states, it will necessarily presuppose some answer to the question of

needs to be done is to disentangle the concept from the ambiguities of

authority is distributed downwards in a slow chronological series,

concepts are held open as to their definitional content, which must

the problem of sovereignty enters; it is here that the concept of

External/internal, image/reality, representation/presence, such is the

Making sense of sovereignty: centrality and

agreement about its central place in our political vocabulary and

being essentially uncontested as the foundation of modern political

concept, evident in its logical purity and by the empirical givenness of

that internationally, over and above the collection of communities,

political or scientific - is actively involved in the construction of reality

the possibility of reference and meaning of concepts to internal criti-

territory which of course cannot be covered completely; instead, I will

Facing these questions, sovereignty is introduced both as the defin-

sovereignty is important; at the same time, explicitness on this point

to space in international political theory. First, space is a physical fact,

Nationalism came to stay, since the social and cultural homogeneity

Ideally, in this masterpiece of history, the locus and the scope of

theory is encouraged to conform. At the textual level, the givenness of

Thus, sovereignty is no longer something empirically or tran-

eignty, this means giving logical and chronological priority to the

against the disturbers of internal order. It becomes more clearly

A similar dialectic of conflict is invoked by Elias, who - more than

These themes are repeated by modern macrosociologists. If the state

When it comes to actual historical accounts, the standard assump-

Thus, since any reconstruction of the formative process must be

It is as if the undecidability between the concepts of state and society

necessary complement to it. Textually, the perspective of macro-

structure in both international political theory and macrosociology."

Thus, viewed as an organizing principle situated in the very deep

constitute it as outside. Once brought into being, a parergonal frame

[A]s long as we continue to contrast history directly with structure,

Histories of the past as outside stories

its justification and foundation outside history in absolute criteria, but

tend to act as determinants of what we think or perceive. We must

If texts are acts, to understand them we need to get a grasp of the

beliefs,46 and the rationality of such a system of propositions or beliefs

This piece of hermeneutic advice comes close to the impartiality

The upshot of this argument is that we should split the difference

be as legitimate as an inquiry into the conditions that prevent agents

carries this burden; in principle, it is not only possible to recover and