Algernon Sidney (1623-1683)

Algernon Sidney is far from being a household name and is probably less well known even among scholars than his uncle Sir Philip Sidney, author of Arcadia. Among those who are familiar with the younger Sidney, he is generally famed less for his published works than for two facts about what he wrote. First, his own words were used to convict him of treason in 1683, resulting in his execution. The manuscript of the work that became the Discourses Concerning Government was said to have been on Sidney's desk at the time of his arrest in May 1683 for his alleged involvement in the Rye House Plot. Those manuscript pages were subsequently used as a 'witness' against him at his trial, held later that year. Secondly, when working as a diplomat in Denmark, Sidney wrote the following inscription in the signature book of the University of Copenhagen:

MANUS HAEC INIMICA TYRANNIS

EINSE PETIT PLACIDAM CUM LIBERTATE QUIETEM

('This hand, always an enemy to tyrants, seeks a little peace under liberty.'). (Jonathan Scott, Algernon Sidney and the English Republic, 1623-1677. Cambridge University Press, 1988, p. 133).

Next year marks the four hundredth anniversary of Sidney's birth. Though originally planned for April 2020, only to be disrupted by the Covid-19 pandemic, the conference held in the French town of Rouen in April 2022 might now be seen as an early celebration of that anniversary. The conference was organised by Christopher Hamel and Gilles Olivo. Christopher has recently produced a modern edition of the 1702 French translation of Sidney's Discourses by Pierre August Samson, to which he has added a rich scholarly introduction that surveys the reception of Sidney's thought in eighteenth-century France. This was the first conference I have attended in-person - and my first trip abroad - since January 2020. As such it was a particular pleasure to be able to attend.

As always, what I offer here are my own reflections on the papers delivered rather than a full account of every paper. Three themes in particular struck me as I listened to the contributions: the relationship between theory and practice in republican thought; the value of adopting a European perspective to English republicanism; and the views of Sidney (and others) on prerogative power and its relationship to popular sovereignty.

Theory and Practice in Republican Thought

Algernon Sidney, after Justus van Egmont, based on a work of 1663. National Portrait Gallery, NPG 568. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

Scholarly accounts of Sidney's thought have tended to place emphasis on his writings, and in particular the Discourses Concerning Government and Court Maxims. While not dismissing the importance of these writings and the ideas contained within them, Tom Ashby's excellent opening paper focused on Sidney's actions and writings as a diplomat working on behalf of the English Commonwealth and Free State. He expertly demonstrated how the letters that Sidney wrote to King Charles Gustavus of Sweden, and King Frederick of Denmark, in August 1659 effectively embody his republican principles in the way in which he presented himself  to, and engaged with, his royal correspondents. Sidney's role as a martyr has long been central to the understanding of him and his ideas, but his role as an agent of the English republic has received far less attention, and the glimpse into this that Tom offered suggests it has the potential to greatly enrich our understanding of Sidney's thought. I eagerly await the opportunity to read his finished thesis - and the publication of the article he is preparing on these letters. 

As I noted in my own paper, political action (negotium) was crucial for republican authors. I argued that figures like Sidney and James Harrington (as well as their later editors, printers, and translators) used the literary and material dimensions of their texts not merely to convey ideas in a passive form but to encourage readers to engage more deeply with those ideas and even to venture into action.

Encouraging political action was, of course, also central to the Leveller movement, which has been richly studied by Rachel Foxley, John Rees, and others. Rachel's paper, which compared the ideas of the Levellers on the nature and role of parliament with those of Sidney, also touched on questions of the interaction of thought and practice. Specifically, Rachel explored the ways in which Levellers - such as Richard Overton - in the 1640s and Sidney in the 1680s grappled with the pressing problem of the relationship between a sovereign people and its representatives; and how (if at all) those representatives might be made accountable to those they represented.

One of the problems of engaging with ideas in action that was discussed in response to these papers is whether this makes it harder to identify a coherent - and consistent - political theory. The question of whether a consistent political theory can be constructed from the various petitions and pamphlet writings of the Levellers has already been addressed by Rachel and others, but the question is equally applicable to Sidney. Christopher noted this in his introduction to the conference, asking whether it is possible to talk of coherence when Sidney himself did not complete or publish either of his major works. Building on this, Tom's paper raised the question of whether it is appropriate to treat Sidney's diplomatic letters as texts in the history of political thought. It certainly seems as though there would be value in doing so, not least because - as Tom pointed out - they provide a useful counterpart to the Court Maxims. In that dialogue Sidney attempts to persuade the people of his ideas on government, whereas in his diplomatic correspondence his aim is to persuade kings. Moreover, as both Rachel's paper and that by François Quastana made clear, the problem of consistency also arises in the Discourses. Because Sidney's aim in that text is to refute the arguments of Robert Filmer, he sometimes ends up contradicting himself. Rachel showed this very clearly in relation to his arguments about representation. In some places he presents representatives as servants, and so insists that those who elect them must be able to instruct them. Elsewhere his views reflect a more aristocratic understanding of representatives, arguing that they must be given the freedom to make their own decisions, and that they cannot be held to account by their constituents. Similarly, François showed that while Sidney castigates Filmer for drawing a parallel between kings and fathers, he himself draws a similar (and equally problematic) parallel between brothers and citizens.

The Value of a European Perspective

Since the motivation behind this conference was the publication of Christopher's excellent edition of the French translation of Sidney's Discourses, it should come as no surprise that the importance of adopting a European perspective to English republicanism was another theme that was raised by various participants. Again Tom's paper was pioneering in this regard showing (as Gaby Mahlberg's recent book on the English Republican exiles has also done) just how much material is available in foreign archives on the English republic and English republicans. 

A typical Rouen building. Image by Rachel Hammersley

As other papers made clear, the European approach is important not just with regard to individuals but also texts. François reminded us how much both Filmer and Sidney owed to French political models; including both, on the one hand, the writings of Jean Bodin and, on the other, those of the monarchiens. In her paper, which offered a stimulating comparison of the reception of the ideas of Sidney and Harrington in eighteenth-century France, Myriam-Isabelle Durcrocq made the important point that studying the French reception of the works of these thinkers not only reveals much about French Huguenot and Enlightenment thought, but also illuminates English republicanism itself. It draws our attention to the different preoccupations of Sidney and Harrington (which led to their works being celebrated in France at different points in time and by individuals facing very different concerns). This highlights the fact that there was not just one single strain of English republican thought, but rather several distinct varieties.

Prerogative Power and Popular Sovereignty

Of course, as Myriam-Isabelle rightly noted, while Harrington and Sidney diverged on various points, two principles on which they firmly agreed were, first, the evils of arbitrary power (or the power of one) and, secondly, the sovereignty of the people. One reflection of this in Harrington's work (as she reminded us) is that Harrington called his popular assembly the Prerogative tribe, alluding to the fact that the prerogative power lies not with any king or prince but with (as Harrington puts it in Oceana) the 'king people'. Sidney embodies a similar idea in his engagement with the Kings of Sweden and Denmark in the letters discussed by Tom. Not only does he clearly believe that, as a representative of the English commonwealth, he can speak directly and on equal terms with royalty, but he also warns Gustavus to adjust his behaviour and to act in the interests of the common good rather than arbitrarily for his own personal gains - or risk republican violence being launched against him.

Algernon Sidney by James Basire after Giovanni Battista Cipriani, 1763. National Portrait Gallery, NPG D28941. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

The attitude to prerogative power was also, as Alberto de Barros pointed out in his paper, a fundamental dividing line between Sidney and John Locke in their respective responses to Filmer's Patriarcha. While both were critical of the prerogative power of kings, Locke was willing to accept that it might legitimately be exercised under two distinct circumstances. First, at moments of crisis or emergency; and, secondly, when the law is silent on a particular point and interpretation is therefore required. Locke was clear, however, that in these cases the prerogative (in order to be legitimate) must only be used to advance the common good. Sidney, by contrast, was adamant that any power that operates above the law is illegitimate; that the very existence of a royal prerogative would undermine liberty and constitute a violation of the common good.

As I hope this blogpost demonstrates, I learned a huge amount from all the papers at this excellent event; as well as from our stimulating and fruitful discussions, which continued over drinks and meals. As I sat on the train leaving Rouen (somewhat reluctantly), I was struck by a parallel between the ideas I had been having about the conference discussions and my experience of attending a conference for the first time in two years. Sidney not only thought and wrote about republican principles, but also embodied them in his engagement with rulers such as the Kings of Sweden and Denmark, developing and extending his thought in the process. Similarly, in attending this conference I moved from contemplation of his thought to engagement with others, was led to interact with individuals coming from different countries and intellectual traditions, and ultimately had my perspectives challenged - resulting in a richer and deeper understanding of Sidney and his ideas.

Radical Republicanism

As I acknowledged in my recent book, the term 'republicanism' means different things to different people. Adding the adjective 'radical' to the term only complicates matters further, especially when the focus is the early modern period. The term 'radicalism' was not in use until the early nineteenth century, leading some scholars to argue that it should not be applied before that time. Yet 'Radical Republicanism in Early Modern Europe' was the title of an excellent conference organised by Anna Becker, Nicolai von Eggers, and Alessandro Mulieri in late June 2021. The conference organisers did not shy away from the difficulties with the terminology, indeed Nicolai von Eggers opened the proceedings by asking whether it is valuable to speak of 'radical republicanism'. What followed was a rich and lively discussion about what we mean by that label, what role the people should play within a republic, and why radical republicans are so often neglected within the historiography.

Niccolò Machiavelli by Santi di Tito. Taken from Wikimedia Commons.

The constitution of the citizen body and the role its members should play have been key questions for those discussing republican rule ever since ancient times. As Alessandro Mulieri noted in his paper, Aristotle argued for the wisdom of the many over that of the few, insisting that as a collective body the many (understood as the middle orders rather than the poor) would have greater expertise, prudence, and virtue when it came to the selection of magistrates and the judgement of their actions. Niccolò Machiavelli famously expanded Aristotle's assessment to incorporate the plebs and to include lawmaking as well as the selection of magistrates. John McCormick has drawn attention to this aspect of Machiavelli's thought in his published work on the Florentine's democratic credentials. He developed this idea further in his paper at the conference, by exploring in greater detail the aristocratic republicanism of Francesco Guicciardini, which was in large part a response to Machiavelli's democratic republicanism. McCormick convincingly demonstrated that Machiavelli had got under Guicciardini's skin, leading him to adopt awkward positions (such as justifying genocide).

Plans that appeared in the Revolutions de Paris for platforms designed to make it possible for orators to be heard in a large assembly that was part of the wider proposals made by radical republicans during the early years of the French Revolution discussed by Nicolai von Eggers. Source gallica.bnf.fr/BnF.

One feature of the more aristocratic form of republicanism advanced by Guicciardini is the mixed constitution. Both Markku Peltonen and Annelien de Dijn questioned its dominance within the republican tradition, showing that many seventeenth- and eighteenth-century republicans explicitly rejected that model, opting instead for a purer form of democratic rule. One of the key claims of Peltonen's excellent paper was that not only were republican arguments boldly made by a large number of English commentators during the period of the Commonwealth and Free State (1649-53), but that many described the government under which they were living positively as a democracy. De Dijn cited another seventeenth-century radical republican, Pieter De la Court who insisted that freedom would only be secure in a true democracy where decision-making power lay firmly with the people. Moreover, De Dijn argued that De la Court (along with his contemporary Baruch Spinoza and, later, Jean-Jacques Rousseau) took Aristotle's argument to its logical conclusion, insisting that the people were more likely to rule in the common good than the elite and arguing, therefore, that there should be no restraint on popular power but only a strict form of majoritarian rule.

In the discussion, Camilla Vergara articulated the distinction being explored very clearly: one form of republicanism involves the sharing of power between the elites and the plebs; whereas the other (democratic or plebeian republicanism) involves giving power to the people. Of course this raises further questions about how popular power can and should be exercised (especially in large modern states). This issue was broached in the two papers on the French Revolution. Ariane Fichtl explored the influence on the French revolutionaries of ancient institutions such as the popular tribunes. Nicolai von Eggers focused on those radicals who adopted an intermediate position between representative and direct democracy by calling for the use of imperative mandates that would bind deputies or delegates to act only on the instructions of those who had elected them.

Samuel Hayat's paper on the recent 'gilets jaunes' protests in France, opened up a further question of whether 'the people' speak with a single voice. This is certainly the impression the 'gilets jaunes' seek to present, but to do so they must downplay differences of opinion based on race, sex, or class. A further issue raised by Hayet's paper is the thorny relationship between the terms 'popular' and 'radical'. The importance of distinguishing the 'popular' from the 'radical' has long been acknowledged by historians of the British civil wars - not least John Morrill. Moreover, not only in that Revolution but also in France in 1793 and again in 1848, the revolutionary authorities were presented with a dilemma. Should free and fair elections be suspended if the outcome of such elections was likely to be a rejection of the revolutionary regime? 

Portrait of Pieter de la Court by Abraham van den Tempel, 1667. Taken from Wikimedia Commons.

Regardless of the different ways in which it has been defined, radical republicanism has long been obscured or even neglected. Throughout the conference we heard papers calling for the rehabilitation of important figures as diverse as Ptolemy of Lucca, Pier Filippo Pandolfini, and Pieter De la Court, as well as for recognition of the republican implications of the works of figures such as Étienne de La Boétie (examined in an interesting paper by Saul Newman). Selective borrowing has been in operation throughout history. In papers by Miguel Vatter and Alessandro Mulieri, Machiavelli was shown to have rejected Platonism and Aristotelianism while simultaneously taking on board certain ideas from them. In my own paper I showed that selectivity was also in operation in the use of James Harrington's ideas by eighteenth-century British thinkers.

This selectivity has continued in later scholarship. Jérémie Barthas noted that Rudolf von Albertini was crucial in downplaying the significance of radical republicans like Pandolfini, because of the perceived connection between his ideas and those of the Jacobins. Following John McCormick's account of the brutal side of Guicciardini's thought, Anna Becker posed the leading question of where the more positive reading of him had originated. Similarly, Markku Peltonen argued that radical republican writings of the early 1650s have largely been ignored by recent republican scholars.

Gaby Mahlberg and Anna Becker both wondered whether part of the reason for the dominance of a more elitist reading of the republican tradition arises from the source material that tends to be used - in particular the focus on a range of printed canonical texts. Gaby's exploration of translations, reviews and networks - along with Anna's work on women and republicanism - have the potential to offer an alternative view. While source material may be part of the problem, political attitudes and priorities no doubt also play their part. For this reason, radical republicanism not only offers a rich vein for future historical research, but also a potential source of valuable material to help us to understand the nature of the political system we have inherited and the means by which it might be improved in the future.

What is Democracy?

Happy New Year! The first day of 2018 seemed a good day to post a blog that looks both backwards and forwards on a key topic of the moment: democracy. The concept of democracy is simultaneously central to our current political culture and at the same time the subject of debate. In a previous blogpost I noted Harrington's distinctive understanding of democracy and suggested that his thinking on this subject might provide some interesting answers to our current democratic crisis. I want to build on this suggestion in my next few posts by exploring three mechanisms that were proposed by Harrington, or his followers, which could be used to breathe new life into our democracy. As a preface to those explorations, this post will offer a brief history of the concept of democracy, focusing in particular on how it was understood in the seventeenth century.

Benjamin Constant, taken from Wikimedia Commons.

Democracy is a complex concept with a long and convoluted history. Today, of course, it is almost universally praised, but this was often not the case before the twentieth century. Its origins lie in ancient Greece, especially Athens. Yet not only was it much criticised at that time (not least by the two most renowned philosophers of the day, Plato and Aristotle), but the form democracy then took was very different from the political structures and values to which the term is applied today. These differences were emphasised by Benjamin Constant in the early nineteenth century. He drew a distinction between the liberty of the ancients and that of the moderns. The first, which he described as involving the complete subjection of the individual to the authority of the community, involved the direct exercise of collective political power through: deliberation; the voting of laws; and the calling to account of magistrates. The second, by contrast, prioritises the rights of the individual. It encompasses: the right to freedom of speech, movement, association, religion and employment; the right to be governed by the rule of law and to dispose of one's property as one sees fit; and, in political terms, it requires simply 'the right to exercise some influence on the administration of government' whether by electing some or all officials, or via representations, petitions and demands. Constant's 'liberty of the moderns', then, is precisely what democracy in its modern guise is designed to protect, and the origins of this modern form of democracy are usually traced back to Constant's own time, and in particular, to the revolutions and reforms of the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Yet democracy was also much discussed in the seventeenth century, not least in England during the mid-century Revolution, and there are grounds for tracing the origins of our modern understanding of the concept right back to that point. 

John Whitgift by an unknown artist. National Portrait Gallery, NPG660. Reproduced under a creative commons license.

The term 'democratical' was first used in print in English in 1574: in a work published by the future Archbishop of Canterbury, John Whitgift, which responded to Puritan calls for further purification of the Church of England. Within this dispute the question was raised as to whether church and state government should take the same form. Whitgift's opponent, Thomas Cartwright, argued that the government of the state should be fitted to that of the church, a suggestion that Whitgift interpreted as suggesting 'that the government of the commonwealth, ought not to be monarchical, but either democratical or aristocratical, because (as you say) the government of the Church ought to be such'. (John Whitgift, The defense of the aunswere to the Admonition against the replie of T. C., London, 1574, p. 389). The term was also invoked in another religious debate, this time originating in the 1580s, concerning the method of election within the early church and its implications for the present.

Thomas Cartwright by an unknown artist, 1683. National Portrait Gallery, NPG D20948. Reproduced under a creative commons license.

Most of the references to democratic government in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries related to these debates, and they were relatively few in number. Moreover, at this time democracy was usually portrayed in negative terms. Between 1570 and 1600 fewer than ten works appeared each decade that included the word 'democratical'. By the 1640s, however, more than 100 works did so. Part of the reason for the increasing popularity of the term relates to the political upheavals of those years. Indeed, some commentators even began to use the term 'democracy' to describe the government of England itself. Initially democracy was simply used to designate one element of England's mixed constitution but, following the regicide, England was presented in several works as a pure democracy. Not only that, but some commentators actively embraced this idea. In a sermon preached before the Lord Mayor, aldermen, sheriffs and companies of London in October 1650, Nathanael Homes sought to distinguish a 'popular parity; a levelling Anarchie' from 'a regular Democracie'. The latter, he insisted, 'assisted with an occasional Aristocracie in Trust, is most safe; as some experience may be seen, in Switzerland, Venice, Low-countries, and New-England; and most anciently among the Jews, in the time of the Judges'. (Nathanael Homes, A sermon, preached before the Right Honourable..., London, 1650, p. 32). 

Title page to The Prerogative of Popular Government from The Oceana and Other Works of James Harrington, ed. John Toland (London, 1737). Private copy. Image by Rachel Hammersley.

James Harrington too sought to rehabilitate the concept of democracy on the basis of exactly the same distinction, but he went further, seeking at the same time to distance the concept of democracy from ancient Athens and the emphasis on free speech and debate among the citizenry that was central to government in that city. The so-called 'democracy' of Athens was, in Harrington's eyes, really anarchy because it allowed debate among the citizens, which tended to produce chaos. In contrast to this he celebrated what he described as the 'democracy' of Sparta which was instead grounded in popular sovereignty, which he understood as the right to accept or reject legislative proposals. In Oceana Harrington made the case for Sparta as a democracy on the grounds that in that system the senate was elected and the popular assembly had the right of veto over the propositions of the senate. In his subsequent work The Prerogative of Popular Government he repeated this point and offered further justification for the superiority of Spartan 'democracy' over Athenian 'anarchy': 'debate in the people maketh anarchy, and where they have the result and no more, the rest being managed by a good aristocracy, it maketh that which is properly and truly to be called democracy, or popular government'. (James Harrington, The Prerogative of Popular Government in The Oceana and Other Works of James Harrington, ed. John Toland, London, 1737, p. 308). In my last blogpost I noted how different the composition of Harrington's senate was both from other second chambers at the time and from the House of Lords today, and here we can see that Harrington's senate was also distinguished by its distinctive function. The role of the senate was to debate and propose legislation, but it was for the popular assembly to accept or reject those proposals.

Title page to second book of The Prerogative of Popular Government from The Oceana and Other Works of James Harrington, ed John Toland (London, 1737). Private copy. Image by Rachel Hammersley.

Several conclusions can be drawn from this very brief account of seventeenth-century democracy. First, discussions of democracy originally arose not in the realm of politics narrowly defined, but rather with reference to religion and the relationship between church and state. Indeed this was still true of Harrington, who made much of the practice of democracy within the Hebrew commonwealth (as depicted in the Old Testament) and in the early church (as described in the New). Modern democracy, then, should not simply be seen as a secular concept, but one with firm religious foundations. Secondly, the history of democracy in the seventeenth century is a good example of a common tendency by which political concepts enter the lexicon as terms of abuse, but once there are available for adaptation, and even more positive adoption, by individuals or groups. Consequently, a proper understanding of the origins of political concepts must take into account not just positive depictions of them, but also negative ones. Moreover, both the initial negative understanding of democracy, and the relative flexibility of the concept in the seventeenth century, render exploration of that phase of its development of particular relevance today. The negative accounts of sixteenth and seventeenth-century thinkers can help us to identify and analyse some of the potential problems of democracy. At the same time, the flexibility of the concept - before it became inextricably intertwined with voting, elections and majority rule - might provide us with interesting hints at the paths not taken, alternative ways of thinking about democracy, and even potential solutions to current political problems.

This leads us back to Harrington. In one sense we might posit Harrington's analysis in Oceana and The Prerogative of Popular Government as marking the birth of modern democracy in enacting the shift away from its ancient Athenian form - where the emphasis was on political debate and direct political action - and towards a version grounded in popular sovereignty exercised via a representative assembly. Yet, at the same time, Harrington's constitutional model sets out a politics that is very different from our own democratic system. And while we might not want to adopt his idea that the popular assembly cannot debate, but only silently accept or reject legislative proposals, his appreciation of the fact that modern democracy raises the danger of rule by an entrenched political elite, and his proposals as to how that can be avoided, may well provide a stimulus to productive political thought in the twenty-first century.