Writing some
twenty years ago, Gerald Helman and Steven Ratner decried ‘a disturbing new phenomena: ‘the failed
nation-state’ characterized by ‘civil, strife, government breakdown, and
economic privation’. In truth, it is the successful nation-state that is really
new, but the ‘failed states’ concept caught on quickly. In 2005 Foreign Affairs even began publishing a
‘failed states index,’ an annual ranking of all members of the United Nations
sorted into five discrete categories: ‘critical’, ‘in danger’, ‘borderline’,
‘stable’ and ‘most stable.’ Interestingly, the last category is exclusively
populated by small European states (e.g., Sweden and Belgium) and settler
colonies (e.g., New Zealand and Australia). Meanwhile, no Western states appear
in the bottom three categories. Why are
so many of the ‘strong states’ European states and their off-springs? Today,
the canonical answer in historical sociology, comparative politics and
international relations is what is colloquially known as the ‘Tilly thesis’:
“war makes the state, and the state makes war.” By now, this war-centric or
bellicist account of state formation has migrated out of academic discourse and
into the received wisdom of the chattering classes. So much so, in fact, that
some commentators now argue that the best remedy for ‘state failure’ is to
‘give war a chance,’ to simply allow the Darwinian logic to play itself without any outside ‘interference’ (Luttwak,
1999). Should hard-headed policy makers heed this tough-love line? They should
only if a strong version of the Tilly thesis actually holds for western
Europe. Unfortunately for Tilly – and
fortunately for Africa- it does not .
. . I argue that the bellicist
model operates with an inadequate model of the
state itself, which blinds us to other important effects that the
reformation movement had on early modern politics. In the conclusion I seek to give war its due
– but only its due.
Since Max Weber, social scientists have generally traced the historical impact of Calvinism to John Calvin’s theology, especially as expressed in his doctrine of predestination and its importance for economic action. I offer a somewhat different interpretation of Calvinism as doctrine, movement and ideology.
Weber stressed how Calvin’s doctrine of the ‘calling’ harnessed the ideal interest of the believer to work and accumulation. But he did not emphasize to the same degree the way in which Calvin’s doctrine of ‘justification’ channeled the individual’s energy into a refashioning of the self. Justification, according to Calvin, was a process through which ‘by God’s Spirit we are regenerated into a new spiritual nature’, able to live in perfect obedience to God’s law as revealed in the Bible. Growing faith, Calvin believed, was manifested in the attainment of ‘voluntary’ and ‘inward’ obedience. One might say that Calvinist ‘this-worldly asceticism’ consisted not only of a ‘work ethic’ but an ethic of self-discipline. In order to maintain self-discipline, the Calvinists employed a wide variety of techniques, many of them derived from long-standing monastic practices. These included regular devotional readings, frequent prayer, and moral logbooks or journals. Yet why would anyone voluntarily adhere to such a harsh creed? Part of the answer no doubt lied in purely religious needs and interests. But self-discipline also contained a status claim – that is, a claim to moral superiority. While this claim likely exercised a general attraction , it had a particularly strong ‘affinity’ to the interests of political elites, whether bourgeois or aristocratic, for self-discipline could buttress or even replace birth as a sign of fitness to rule. The Calvinist ethic was therefore suited not only to justifying the economic activities of a nascent economic class but also to legitimizing the domination of rising political elites.
It should be emphasized that Calvin devoted most of his life not to theology but to building the Reformed church. Indeed, it might be argued that his magnum opus was not the Institutes but rather his Ecclesiastical Ordinances, which served as the charter for the Geneva church and the blueprint for Reformed churches through-out Europe. The Ordinances prescribed a decentralized, federalistic organization, leaving considerable autonomy to the individual congregations. Churches were represented by their pastors in regional gatherings (classes or presbyteries). The classes, in turn, sent delegates to regional and national synods that met when matters of wider concern were to be discussed. While the clergy dominated the regional and national organizations. The laity bore considerable responsibility within each church. Lay elders were charged with maintaining ‘discipline’ – that is, with supervising the morals (both public and private) of the congregation. To this end, they might interview church members several times a year before communion and administer appropriate reprimands or punishments if necessary. Moreover, because the elders most often came from the social elite, disciplinary actions often carried the threat of social sanctions as well. In sum, the Reformed church exerted a continuous, quasi-monastic control over the daily lives of its members through surveillance mechanisms, which, moreover, functioned independently of sacerdotal authority or hierocratic organization. Effective church discipline depended entirely on the diligence of the laity. Again, it may be asked why anyone would submit themselves to this unrelenting surveillance. No doubt purely religious motivations were important but the disciplinary strategies inherent in the organization of the Reformed churches may have themselves exercised and independent appeal to institution-building elites - and even for those in the popular classes who valued order.
As Weber pointed out, the Calvinists themselves were strong proponents of social and political reform. This was evident in the Ecclesiastical Ordinances , which provided for the election of deacons whose task was to uphold public order and morality, in particular by managing the charitable undertakings of the congregation- such as hospitals, orphanages, poorhouses, and so on. Ordinary church members were also generally expected to support these efforts with their money and time. The reformist spirit of Calvinism was also manifest on the ideological level. Calvin had cautiously articulated the vision of a ‘godly commonwealth’, modeled on the polity of the ancient Jews, in which religious and secular leaders would cooperate in effecting a radical Christianization of society. Adapting to historical circumstance, Calvin’s followers refashioned his ideas into a revolutionary defense of traditional privileges and communal liberty which packed considerable appeal among traditional urban and landed elites whose power was threatened by the encroachment of the Crown. Calvin’s political thought therefore provided an intellectual and religious basis for republican theories of government. Thus, in contrast to earlier ascetic reform movements, Calvinism’s ethic contained a strong social component.
To summarize, what gave Calvinism its revolutionary potential was that it conjoined (1) an ethic of self-discipline with (2) potent organizational strategies and (3) a world-changing vision of a godly commonwealth.
Since Max Weber, social scientists have generally traced the historical impact of Calvinism to John Calvin’s theology, especially as expressed in his doctrine of predestination and its importance for economic action. I offer a somewhat different interpretation of Calvinism as doctrine, movement and ideology.
Weber stressed how Calvin’s doctrine of the ‘calling’ harnessed the ideal interest of the believer to work and accumulation. But he did not emphasize to the same degree the way in which Calvin’s doctrine of ‘justification’ channeled the individual’s energy into a refashioning of the self. Justification, according to Calvin, was a process through which ‘by God’s Spirit we are regenerated into a new spiritual nature’, able to live in perfect obedience to God’s law as revealed in the Bible. Growing faith, Calvin believed, was manifested in the attainment of ‘voluntary’ and ‘inward’ obedience. One might say that Calvinist ‘this-worldly asceticism’ consisted not only of a ‘work ethic’ but an ethic of self-discipline. In order to maintain self-discipline, the Calvinists employed a wide variety of techniques, many of them derived from long-standing monastic practices. These included regular devotional readings, frequent prayer, and moral logbooks or journals. Yet why would anyone voluntarily adhere to such a harsh creed? Part of the answer no doubt lied in purely religious needs and interests. But self-discipline also contained a status claim – that is, a claim to moral superiority. While this claim likely exercised a general attraction , it had a particularly strong ‘affinity’ to the interests of political elites, whether bourgeois or aristocratic, for self-discipline could buttress or even replace birth as a sign of fitness to rule. The Calvinist ethic was therefore suited not only to justifying the economic activities of a nascent economic class but also to legitimizing the domination of rising political elites.
It should be emphasized that Calvin devoted most of his life not to theology but to building the Reformed church. Indeed, it might be argued that his magnum opus was not the Institutes but rather his Ecclesiastical Ordinances, which served as the charter for the Geneva church and the blueprint for Reformed churches through-out Europe. The Ordinances prescribed a decentralized, federalistic organization, leaving considerable autonomy to the individual congregations. Churches were represented by their pastors in regional gatherings (classes or presbyteries). The classes, in turn, sent delegates to regional and national synods that met when matters of wider concern were to be discussed. While the clergy dominated the regional and national organizations. The laity bore considerable responsibility within each church. Lay elders were charged with maintaining ‘discipline’ – that is, with supervising the morals (both public and private) of the congregation. To this end, they might interview church members several times a year before communion and administer appropriate reprimands or punishments if necessary. Moreover, because the elders most often came from the social elite, disciplinary actions often carried the threat of social sanctions as well. In sum, the Reformed church exerted a continuous, quasi-monastic control over the daily lives of its members through surveillance mechanisms, which, moreover, functioned independently of sacerdotal authority or hierocratic organization. Effective church discipline depended entirely on the diligence of the laity. Again, it may be asked why anyone would submit themselves to this unrelenting surveillance. No doubt purely religious motivations were important but the disciplinary strategies inherent in the organization of the Reformed churches may have themselves exercised and independent appeal to institution-building elites - and even for those in the popular classes who valued order.
As Weber pointed out, the Calvinists themselves were strong proponents of social and political reform. This was evident in the Ecclesiastical Ordinances , which provided for the election of deacons whose task was to uphold public order and morality, in particular by managing the charitable undertakings of the congregation- such as hospitals, orphanages, poorhouses, and so on. Ordinary church members were also generally expected to support these efforts with their money and time. The reformist spirit of Calvinism was also manifest on the ideological level. Calvin had cautiously articulated the vision of a ‘godly commonwealth’, modeled on the polity of the ancient Jews, in which religious and secular leaders would cooperate in effecting a radical Christianization of society. Adapting to historical circumstance, Calvin’s followers refashioned his ideas into a revolutionary defense of traditional privileges and communal liberty which packed considerable appeal among traditional urban and landed elites whose power was threatened by the encroachment of the Crown. Calvin’s political thought therefore provided an intellectual and religious basis for republican theories of government. Thus, in contrast to earlier ascetic reform movements, Calvinism’s ethic contained a strong social component.
To summarize, what gave Calvinism its revolutionary potential was that it conjoined (1) an ethic of self-discipline with (2) potent organizational strategies and (3) a world-changing vision of a godly commonwealth.
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