Rousseau and Hobbes examined through the lens of Reason

From Boethius to Hobbes, Locke, Montaigne, and later thinkers such as Rousseau, the humanist philosophy that emerged in Europe in the 15th century poses the question of the state of nature of humankind¹. This problem seems fundamental for establishing a social regime that would respect and take into account the essential nature of humans. According to the authors and their starting hypotheses, the division falls into two parts: either humanity is fundamentally good, or humanity is fundamentally bad.

We discuss the state of nature because most authors develop their hypothesis within a fictional scenario—an idea of a human living independently of any society. It is indeed a fiction. Some scholars of the time may have taken it literally, but for the most part it serves as a conceptual framework: what would a solitary human be like in nature, or at least in a space without rules?

Let us look at the different positions on the nature of man. For Rousseau, alone in nature we find the image of the Noble Savage; human desires are limited. It is the proximity with one’s peers—and the frictions that arise from it—that would make him wicked. It is interesting to note that, according to recent physiological research, spending time in nature has multiple beneficial effects on the human body and psyche². These effects range from greater relaxation to improvements in depressive states. Thus, returning to Rousseau’s thesis, is man good in the state of nature or in nature? And what mechanism corrupts him within society?

On the other hand, we encounter Hobbes, who famously claimed that “Man is a wolf to man.” The situation is not completely opposite. He does not place himself in a hypothetical state of nature; Hobbes already situates himself at the level of a proto‑society at best. Consequently, Rousseau is not directly opposed to Hobbes, because he adds that isolated state of nature which would allow man to be good. But where and how does this distinction, this duality of visions of man, arise?

This question begins to emerge with Renaissance humanist philosophy and is further developed up to the Enlightenment. These philosophies are more or less secular, seeking to think independently of the Christian churches. It is the great period of the Protestant Reformation and the Wars of Religion. The philosophical unity of Christendom fractures, leaving, between its two heirs—Catholic and Protestant—a third way: humanism. Moreover, this thought is heavily influenced by pre‑Christian antiquity.

Nevertheless, it is born within a Christian worldview that classifies things as inherently good or bad. For Christians, as for Jews before them, an act is good or bad, pure or impure in itself. There is tolerance and a fluctuation of appraisal according to facts and epochs, yet there remain clearly good and clearly bad actions. Consequently, because all of creation is seen as either good or bad, Christians naturally extend the question to humanity.

Thus, the thinkers of the era did not fully grasp the ancient mindset. Antiquity already reasoned not in terms of good or evil of the human being, but in terms of a path to live best or to realize the potential of that being. Stoicism and Epicureanism—two major philosophical currents of antiquity—present themselves not as positions of good versus evil, but as ways, means for man to be happy and to perform just actions. A just action is a pertinent action, not necessarily a good one.

So where does this philosophical shift come from?

In the original Christian representation and other value systems, man is always neutral. In Greco‑Roman culture, the human being is a plaything of the gods of the Pantheon; various influences guide his choices, which vary according to his goals. In the Christian frame, man is neutral. He is subject to influences—angelic or demonic—but he is neutral in himself. It is then his choice to do good or evil and to resist—or not—those influences. The classic illustration of this situation is the metaphor of original sin: Adam and Eve choose not to obey God’s command but to listen to the serpent’s suggestion. They are neutral, merely subject to influences. It is precisely this capacity for choice that distinguishes humans from higher positive or negative entities.

Another well‑known example is Taoism. A person’s constitution depends on Yin and Yang, as does temperament. Yet the whole is neutral. A particular constitution does not predestine one to do evil; it may predispose one toward aggression or passivity, but it does not dictate action, which itself follows the Yin‑Yang duality—activity/rest, aggression/appeasement. In this framework, good and evil do not exist. The world is characterized by its composition of Yin and Yang. They are constitutive aspects, not judgments of good or bad. They are in harmony with the functioning of the world—or not. That is the only judgment that exists.

Across all these reference systems, man is not only neutral but free. Neither inherently good nor inherently malicious, he is free to make his own choices within his environment.

Therefore, the humanist question of the nature of man makes no sense. By trying to embed good and evil into man, we deny him the capacity to choose. He becomes guided by a supposed deep nature that leaves no escape. Whether he is naturally good or bad, the outcome is the same: he no longer needs to exert effort. It becomes impossible to go against his nature, especially if the promise of paradise is no longer at the end of the road. But that is another story.

¹ Note: In this text the term “man” can be understood as “human being.” I usually give it a gender‑restricted meaning, but in the context of humanist philosophy I leave it unrestricted. The ambiguity of the term is one of the most significant uncertainties in this philosophy

² Reference: https://observatoireprevention.org/2021/07/08/les-bienfaits-de-la-nature-sur-la-sante-globale/ (study on the health benefits of nature)

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