The Path-Dependence of Legal Positivism

This piece below was presented during the Jurisprudence and (Its) History Symposium, held by the Virginia Law Review and the Program in Legal and Constitutional History in September 2014. 

One advantage of not being a professional (or even amateur) historian is that such non-professional status allows one to be unashamedly instrumental about history. Although genuine historians bridle at the thought that we should investigate history because it makes us better people or better decision makers, as opposed simply to providing knowledge for its own sake, the rest of us have the freedom to use history for a wider range of other and more instrumental purposes.

Among the instrumental uses of history is the way in which historical inquiry can often allow us to recover, for current use, ideas whose past currency has been extinguished by the passage of time. And although ideas can be lost for many reasons, including of course their unsoundness, one of the most interesting ways in which potentially valuable ideas of the past can be forgotten is through the mechanism of intellectual path-dependence. If an idea at some time in the past possessed, say, two valuable features, and if one of those features becomes popular, salient, interesting, or important, the popular or salient or interesting or important feature will likely be discussed, explicated, and embellished. These explications and embellishments will themselves then be discussed and further explicated and embellished, and so on, in a manner that resembles the branches of a tree as they generate further branches and then twigs and then twiglets and leaves. But just as looking at all of the smaller sub-branches of one main branch may blind us to the existence of other main branches, so too may a focus on the subsequent elaborations of one part of some main idea lead us to ignore the other parts, parts whose importance may be forgotten precisely as a consequence of the process of path-dependence just described. And thus the path-dependence I posit here is largely a sociological or psychological, rather than formal, process. It is not that focusing on one of multiple facets of an idea makes the other facets unavailable in a logical or inexorable sense. But the earlier selective attention does serve to make those other facets sociologically and psychologically more obscure with the passage of time, rendering the other facets less salient, more difficult to retrieve, and, most importantly, increasingly harder to use.

And so it is with legal positivism. My goal in this Article is to examine three important topics in legal theory and to expose how they were all at one time part of the perspective that was once understood as legal positivism, and which bears an ancestral relationship to modern legal positivism. The first of these dimensions is the relationship between legal theory and legal reform. Specifically, that an account of the nature of law might be developed not simply as an aid to understanding or accurate description, but instead as a way of facilitating reform of law itself or reform of how a society understands the idea of law. And thus the view that theories or accounts of law might be generated for the purpose of conceptual or legal reform is the first of the three dimensions of yesterday’s legal positivism that appears largely to have been obscured or even buried by the passage of time.

Second, legal positivism, at the time of its late nineteenth-century (or perhaps even earlier) origins, was focused on the importance of coercion, force, and sanctions as central components of law. But as with the creation of legal theories for the purpose of legal reform, this emphasis on the coercive side of law has also been banished to a kind of jurisprudential purgatory, for reasons and with consequences that deserve further examination.

The third lost element of earlier versions of legal positivism is its focus on judicial decision making and the role of judges. Modern legal positivists, for whom 1961 is all too often the beginning of useful thought about the nature of law, do not, with few exceptions, consider theories of judicial decision making to be a necessary or even important part of the positivist perspective. But it was not always so. Previously, the view that we should understand the judicial function in terms of the freedom (or lack thereof) of the judge to depart from the limited domain of formal positive law in making her decisions was a topic dear to the heart of legal positivists, but again that focus seems to have been erased.

My aim in this Article is to focus on the history of thinking about law in the context of the three topics just sketched, and to try to show that the continuous development of the theory of legal positivism, however useful it may have been or may still be, has possibly caused us to ignore other aspects of what was originally part of the positivist picture. My concern here is not that modern legal positivism is in any way mistaken on its own terms. That agenda is best left for other occasions. Here my only goal is to argue that modern legal positivism is but one branch of the historically important positivist perspective. As a result, the path of development of legal positivism, even if sound according to its own modern lights, appears to have caused us to lose the independent importance of several other paths, an importance that remains worthwhile even today to emphasize.

Toward Classical Legal Positivism

This piece below was presented during the Jurisprudence and (Its) History Symposium, held by the Virginia Law Review and the Program in Legal and Constitutional History in September 2014. 

I have two major aims in this Article. First, I hope to set the historical record straight, so I offer an account of Hobbes’s and Bentham’s work that seeks to understand their views on law not by isolating it from the rest of their wide-ranging body of work, but by understanding their jurisprudential work as part of a broader project. The primary aim of this Article, however, is not historical. My main aim is to contribute to contemporary jurisprudential debates and to suggest that the largely neglected approach of earlier positivists is superior to the view held by most contemporary legal positivists. These two aims are not necessarily congruent. There is an obvious sense in which talk of Hobbes or Bentham as legal positivists is a historical anachronism. The debate between legal positivism and natural law, in the form one finds in contemporary jurisprudence textbooks, is a twentieth-century debate that cannot be found in jurisprudential discussions of past centuries. It is not just that the word “positivist” is not found in the works of Hobbes, Bentham, or even Austin; it is that the debate as it is understood today was not one that they were engaged in. Therefore, it is in some sense pointless and in some sense misleading to worry too much over the question whether Hobbes or Bentham were “really” legal positivists or natural lawyers.

The more meaningful question, and the one I wish to engage in, is to what extent it is useful for us to call Hobbes and Bentham “legal positivists.” My answer to this question consists of three interrelated points. The first is that we draw an explicit link between their ideas and the view that (some time later) would come to be known as “positivism,” roughly the view that the methods of the “human sciences” are essentially the same as those of the natural sciences. The second point is that the classical legal positivists’ decisive break with natural law ideas prevalent in their day is to be found exactly here, in their views about metaphysics and nature. The third point is that this aspect of their work has been, in my view regrettably, abandoned by contemporary legal positivists. Though all three points are related, in this Article I will say relatively little about the first point, as I discussed it in greater detail elsewhere.

Sovereignty and Subversion

This piece below was presented during the Jurisprudence and (Its) History Symposium, held by the Virginia Law Review and the Program in Legal and Constitutional History in September 2014. 

Between those who advocate “too great liberty” and those who contend for “too much authority,” Thomas Hobbes found it difficult “to pass between the points of both unwounded.” It does not appear that he cleared the gauntlet successfully. One of the many curiosities in Hobbes’s work is its provocation of two diametrically opposed, and seemingly inconsistent, criticisms. When Leviathan was first published some 350 years ago, Hobbes’s very name became an epithet in polite circles, evoking the horrors of atheism, libertinism, and worst of all, defiance to established authority. Today, the same work that Hobbes’s contemporaries denounced as a “Rebel’s Catechism” is widely viewed as an unequivocal and misguided defense of an authoritarian and absolutist government. Hobbes’s descriptions of the need for a powerful sovereign are many and memorable enough to have eclipsed, over time, his endorsements of a few specific rights to resist the sovereign. But Hobbes’s contemporaries did not overlook the subversive strands of his work, and neither should we. In particular, there is much to be learned from the juxtaposition of Hobbes’s account of law—a command made with authority, to one obliged to obey—and his account of punishment—an act of violence that the target has a right to resist. This juxtaposition illuminates some recurring jurisprudential questions about the relationship of law to coercion, and the possibility of strictly descriptive, nonevaluative legal theory.

Hobbes’s account of law, like his account of punishment, does not fit well into our existing scholarly categories. I shall argue that the fault lies in our categories, and not in Hobbes. He was neither a legal positivist nor a natural law theorist, at least not as we usually use these labels. He adopted neither a retributive nor a consequentialist justification of punishment. Yet his account of human interaction, particularly with respect to law and punishment, captures actual experience better than the more familiar alternatives. Moreover, the space for subversion in Hobbes’s theory may make his account more normatively appealing than it has seemed to modern liberals.

The Article is organized around three questions about Hobbesian theory: What is law? What is its relationship to punishment? And what are the implications of Hobbes’s theory for contemporary efforts to describe law or the relationship of law to punishment? The first of these questions has been tackled by Hobbes scholars, of course, but Hobbes’s legal theory is still so widely mischaracterized, sometimes even by Hobbes scholars, that it is worth returning to his claims. The second question has received much less attention, perhaps because a right to resist punishment seems so discordant with the authoritarian Hobbes we know, or think we know. And the third question has received still less attention, for contemporary jurisprudence scholarship rarely cites anyone who wrote before Jeremy Bentham and John Austin. I hope to show that, in many instances, Hobbes has been misread; even more importantly, I hope to persuade scholars of jurisprudence that what Hobbes actually said is worthy of their engagement.