Tuesday, November 7, 2006 — Unsung Legal Minds of the Enlightenment

In a review, a while back, I men­tioned Dr. John Snow, the founder of mod­ern epi­demi­ol­o­gy, as an exam­ple of a per­son who should be incred­i­bly famous, but is not. Our received con­nect-the-dots his­to­ry of the world high­lights many incon­se­quen­tial and pho­ny per­son­al­i­ties, and gen­er­al­ly ignores the peo­ple who real­ly do things for the human race.

Two strik­ing exam­ples would be the sel­dom men­tioned Enlight­en­ment thinkers, Cesare Bec­ca­ria and Joseph Michel Antoine Ser­van, with whom I would con­trast the end­less his­tor­i­cal ref­er­ences to Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Despite many attempts to cred­it events like the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion and “the advent of moder­ni­ty” to the influ­ence of Rousseau, the case is overblown. Rousseau was indeed a celebri­ty at the time, and wide­ly read. But his ideas were, in the main, child­ish and inco­her­ent. They were of lit­tle use to any­one who want­ed to reform soci­ety. There were seri­ous peo­ple around at that time who were build­ing afresh in the New World, and improv­ing and reform­ing the Old, and few of them drew much on Rousseau for ideas. Thomas Jef­fer­son, for instance, whose name is rou­tine­ly linked to Rousseau in the con­nect-the-dots tem­plate, rarely men­tioned him.

Jef­fer­son did acknowl­edge many influ­ences, includ­ing Mon­tesquieu (who is at least mod­er­ate­ly well-known to read­ers). Mon­tesquieu was the most fre­quent­ly quot­ed author­i­ty on gov­ern­ment and pol­i­tics in colo­nial pre-rev­o­lu­tion­ary Amer­i­ca. But, Mon­tesquieu was already old stuff when Jefferson’s phi­los­o­phy geled. Oth­er, new­er, and more rad­i­cal writ­ers excit­ed his spe­cial inter­est. Promi­nent among them was the Ital­ian thinker Cesare march­ese di Bec­ca­ria-Bone­sana. John Adams also read Bec­ca­ria with great atten­tion. So did almost any­one in Europe and Amer­i­ca with a sin­cere inter­est in improv­ing humanity’s social and polit­i­cal con­di­tions. His Dei Delit­ti e delle Pene (“On Crimes and Pun­ish­ments”), pub­lished in 1764, when Bec­ca­ria was only twen­ty-six years old [my sources con­flict, one (Louis Cromp­ton) giv­ing it as 1761 ] was a call to reform Europe’s legal codes.

Bec­ca­ria was a Milanese. Among the chaot­ic states of Italy, it was in Milan that the Enlight­en­ment took hold. There, a group of pugna­cious young stu­dents and lit­er­at­ti formed a satyri­cal “Accad­e­mia dei pug­ni”, mak­ing fun of the pon­der­ous insti­tutes of the day, and then a jour­nal, sig­nif­i­cant­ly named Il Caf­fé. Cof­fee played the socio-polit­i­cal role of mar­i­jua­na in the eigh­teenth century.

The open­ing of his Dei Delit­ti e delle Pene sets its rad­i­cal tone. I’ve only read it in French, but in Eng­lish it would read: “Some remains of the laws of an ancient preda­to­ry race [Bec­ca­ria means the Romans], com­piled by an Emper­or who lived in Con­stan­tino­ple twelve cen­turies ago, then mixed with the cus­toms of the Lom­bard tribe, then cob­bled togeth­er in a mess of obscu­ran­tist, bad­ly trans­lat­ed tomes, forms the basis of what Euro­peans call Law.” Bec­ca­ria was par­tic­u­lar­ly offend­ed by tor­ture and cru­el pun­ish­ments, and called for an end to the death penal­ty. He may even have been the first to do so. But he did not end with these inno­va­tions. He set forth, in plain lan­guage, almost all the noblest prin­ci­ples of mod­ern jus­tice: that the accused should be seen as inno­cent until proven guilty, pun­ish­ments pro­por­tion­al to crimes, jus­tice undu­ly delayed is not jus­tice, the sep­a­ra­tion of the law from arbi­trary cus­toms and reli­gious obses­sions, the inva­lid­i­ty of con­fes­sions under duress. He called for an end to the bar­bar­i­ties that ren­dered law arbi­trary, irra­tional, and tyran­ni­cal. We could eas­i­ly use his cat­a­log of issues to sep­a­rate the advanced and back­ward states in what we would now call “human rights”.

Bec­ca­ria was not unheed­ed. His youth­ful trea­tise had a pro­found influ­ence on the laws of Europe. With­in a few years, it had been trans­lat­ed into most major Euro­pean lan­guages, and was repub­lished by Voltaire wih an inter­est­ing com­men­tary. It was the cen­tral text of legal reform through­out the con­ti­nent. With­in a gen­er­a­tion, judi­cial tor­ture was struck down in the prac­tices of most Euro­pean states (at least offi­cial­ly). He was less suc­cess­ful in pro­mot­ing his most advanced idea, the abo­li­tion of the death penal­ty. Bec­ca­ria argued that the claim of the State to the right to kill peo­ple was essen­tial­ly a claim to own them, and was the ulti­mate expres­sion of the State as slave-hold­er. He con­vinced almost no-one, except the leg­is­la­ture of the Grand Duchy of Tus­cany, which was the lin­ear descen­dant of the Flo­ren­tine Repub­lic. In 1786, that state became the first to abol­ish the death penal­ty, cit­ing Bec­ca­ria directly.

I don’t find all of Beccaria’s influ­ence entire­ly good. Many of his argu­ments presage the Util­i­tar­i­an move­ment, which placed free­dom on slip­pery sands and crip­pled polit­i­cal thought in the Eng­lish-speak­ing world with inco­her­ence. But, on the whole, his influ­ence was for the good, and his work dis­plays both intel­lec­tu­al clar­i­ty and gen­tle human­i­ty. He was a voice of rea­son in a world of brutes, scream­ing sav­ages and hys­tri­on­ic poseurs.

Anoth­er exam­ple of neglect is Joseph Michel Antoine Ser­van (1737–1807), with his Dis­cours sur La jus­tice crim­inelle, pub­lished short­ly after Bec­ca­ria. Ser­van was less rad­i­cal than Bec­ca­ria, but he made elo­quent protests against the sever­i­ty and inequal­i­ties of legal codes. He turned down many hon­ours and prof­itable appoint­ments when they proved cor­rupt or com­pro­mis­ing, and stood up against Napoleon’s Empire.

I’m sure that schol­ars of legal his­to­ry know these two men well, but they are unlike­ly to turn up in broad­er his­to­ries as any­thing but foot­notes. Part of the rea­son for the neglect of Bec­ca­ria is that he was Ital­ian. The Enlight­en­ment has come to be seen as a French thing. This is disin­gen­u­ous. France, at the time, was a total­i­tar­i­an state, sim­i­lar in many ways to the Com­mu­nist Impe­ri­al­ist pow­ers of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry. State cen­sor­ship, secret police, and inform­ers made most enlight­ened dis­course and pub­li­ca­tion impos­si­ble in that coun­try. The bulk of Enlight­en­ment think­ing took place in the Nether­lands, the freest state in Europe, where rad­i­cal books could be pub­lished and dis­cussed open­ly. Milan, and some cities in Ger­many, Scan­di­navia and Switzer­land were sec­ondary cen­ters. Enlight­en­ment intel­lec­tu­als were drawn from every­where in Europe, and were part of a cos­mopoli­tan cul­ture. French writ­ers were among them, but they were some among many voic­es. A sub­se­quent “sort­ing process”, which favoured the super­pow­ers of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry, cre­at­ed the impres­sion that this was all tak­ing place in Paris, and con­signed writ­ers in Dutch, Ital­ian, Dan­ish, and oth­er “minor” lan­guages to oblivion.

Today, it would be salu­to­ry for peo­ple in the Unit­ed States and Cana­da to take anoth­er look at men like Bec­ca­ria and Ser­van. Espe­cial­ly in the Unit­ed States, where some of Beccaria’s lessons where nev­er learned, and where what was absorbed is now rapid­ly dis­in­te­grat­ing. The most fun­da­men­tal prin­ci­ples of jus­tice and lib­er­ty are under attack in the U.S., and the coun­try is rapid­ly descend­ing into igno­rance and sav­agery. It’s time to crack open the books, and read some­thing with a lit­tle more sub­stance than Rousseau.

[for cita­tions, go to Read­ing for Novem­ber, 2006]

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