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Hannah ArendtA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Arendt begins by asserting that war and revolution are the two most important political issues of the 20th century. At the same time, both phenomena are in some sense outside the political sphere, which in the ancient Greek city-states was characterized by persuasion rather than violence. Arendt speculates that wars may become less frequent and even disappear altogether in the near future because they have become essentially unwinnable, for several reasons.
First and foremost, the development of atomic weapons vastly increased the destructive potential of war and introduced the novel possibility of complete civilizational annihilation, leading the atomic powers to pursue a strategy of “deterrence,” whereby they built atomic weapons with the goal of never using them. Second, even prior to the atomic age, the First World War transformed the nature of war into “total war” by blurring the distinction between soldiers and civilians.
Third, the outcome of World War I reinforced the lesson of the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 and the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, that “no government [...] will be strong enough to survive defeat in war” (5). For all of these reasons, Arendt predicts “cold” wars will increasingly replace unwinnable “hot” wars. She notes the increasing “reciprocation and mutual dependence” of war and revolution (5).
Of the two revolutions Arendt will analyze, the American Revolution was preceded by a war of liberation while the French Revolution led into a war of defense and aggression. In the 20th century, wars have either led to revolution (as in Russia in 1905) or resulted in revolution (as in World War II), a trend explained at least in part by the fact that both share the common denominator of violence. She predicts that, even if “hot” wars become a thing of the past, revolutions will persist into the foreseeable future.
Arendt then returns to the argument that violence is external to the political realm, because politics is fundamentally about speech, and violence is “incapable of speech” (9). Violence is characteristic of the pre-political “state of nature,” as theorized by 17th-century philosophers, in which brute force rather than laws govern human actions. However, if the political realm emerged out of the state of nature, then politics is rooted in violence. She notes that the Hebrew Bible— Western civilization’s foundational religious text—begins with fratricide (Cain killing his brother Abel), as does the legend of Rome’s founding (Romulus killing Remus): “[I]n the beginning was a crime,” she writes, paraphrasing the opening line of Genesis (10).
Arendt argues that revolutions “confront us directly and inevitably with the problem of beginning,” because they bring about not merely change but “something altogether new” (11). She observes that the “social question”—meaning economic issues—has played a crucial role in all revolutions; this lends support to the materialist theory of history, advanced by philosophers from Aristotle to Marx, which views material interests as the key driver of politics. Whereas the existence of poverty was accepted as natural and inevitable in pre-modern times, in the modern age people began to question this assumption and to believe that life could be characterized by abundance rather than scarcity; this shift was in part a response to the experience of the American colonies, which lacked mass poverty thanks to an abundant natural environment.
Inspired by the American example, the 17th- and 18th-century British philosophers John Locke and Adam Smith reconceptualized labor as not the curse of the poor but “the source of all wealth” (13). This shift brought a revolutionary dimension to the social question, because now people believed mass poverty could be eliminated. In Europe, “revolutionary men” began to seek change in social conditions more than in political institutions. The notion that revolutions can produce entirely novel circumstances is in itself modern, because the ancients viewed history as cyclical; Christianity initiated the shift to a more linear sense of history, as it posited the birth of Christ as a unique event and a “new beginning.”
The “entirely new story” told by the American and French Revolutions was about “the emergence of freedom” (19). Freedom is not the same as liberation, which is a strictly negative concept (i.e., liberation from something or someone). The notion of political freedom originated in the polis of the Greek city-states, where citizens governed themselves with no distinction between rulers and ruled (20). This form of “no-rule” government was called isonomy and was distinct from democracy, or rule by the many (the demos). Political freedom for the Greeks was inseparable from equality: Citizens could govern themselves because they all enjoyed equal rights within the polis. This was, however, a limited and strictly political form of equality, unrelated to equality of condition; indeed, only property owners could be citizens. Political freedom is thus not reducible to civil rights, which are purely negative rights to protection from government oppression; rather, freedom is the positive ability to participate in public affairs.
Civil liberties are therefore a precondition of freedom, not its content. Civil rights can be ensured even under monarchical rule, but political freedom requires the establishment of a new form of government, the republic. The American and French revolutionists experienced political freedom for the first time in the course of their revolutionary activities, and the novelty of these experiences fostered a perception of these revolutions as the grandest and most significant events in human history. Arendt argues that what distinguishes revolutions from coups or civil wars is that “violence is used to constitute an altogether different form of government, to bring about the formation of a new body politic […] to build a new house where freedom can dwell” (25).
The 16th-century Italian philosopher Niccolò Machiavelli was the first to think about establishing a new political system modeled on the values and institutions of ancient Rome, and he accepted the role of violence in politics in a way that would later be embraced by the French revolutionists. He also confronted the same problem that the French and American revolutionists would eventually face: how to establish a non-divine source of transcendent authority for the new polity’s constitution.
During Machiavelli’s own time, however, while the notion of rebellion or revolt—an uprising of subjects against a ruler—was commonplace, even the most radical thinkers never envisaged revolution in the 18th-century sense of endowing the common people with the right of self-governance, i.e., of subjects becoming rulers themselves: “The very idea of equality as we understand it, namely that every person is born as an equal by the very fact of being born and that equality is a birthright, was utterly unknown prior to the modern age” (30).
The revolutionists themselves did not initially expect to found an entirely new political order. This helps explain why they adopted the term “revolution,” which, in its original, astronomical sense referred to the cyclical motion of the stars. Earlier events that were labeled with the term, such as Britain’s “Glorious Revolution” of 1688, were restorations of rightful monarchical power. Likewise, the American and French revolutionists initially set out to “restore an old order of things that had been disturbed and violated by the despotism of absolute monarchy or the abuses of colonial government” (34), not to establish a novus ordo seclorum (a Latin motto on the Great Seal of the United States, translated as “a new order of the ages”).
Another connotation of the astronomical term “revolution” was “irresistibility,” since humans cannot influence the motion of the stars. When common people took to the street in France to demand liberation from misery, their movement was immediately perceived—by revolutionists and outside observers alike—as being as irresistible as an ocean current or a lava stream. This phenomenon inspired subsequent generations of revolutionaries to see themselves as “agents of history and historical necessity” (43), rather than as independent actors.
In these chapters, Arendt does not yet dive into her analysis of the American and French revolutions, but sets the stage for that analysis by discussing key concepts, including the relationship between politics and violence, historical materialism, historical necessity, equality, and positive versus negative notions of freedom. The Introduction is largely focused on war, which may seem off-topic for a book about revolution but reflects Arendt’s own life experience, which was dominated by the two world wars. War and revolution were not only the most common forms of political violence in her lifetime by far, with one often leading to the other, but arguably the key drivers of 20th-century history.
In noting that both the Hebrew Bible and the legend of Rome’s founding begin with fratricide, she suggests that human nature is inherently violent in the pre-political state of nature, contrary to the French revolutionists’ belief in the inherent goodness of human nature. In the political realm, people resolve disputes through verbal persuasion rather than physical force (10). War is a reversion to the state of nature, and revolutions produce new political beginnings out of this chaos and violence.
In Chapter 1, Arendt lays out several key elements of her overall argument, without necessarily spelling out the links between them. She begins by asserting the centrality of the “social question” to all revolutions, which stems from the modern belief that poverty is neither natural nor inevitable and that, consequently, it can and should be eliminated. She then shifts abruptly to her claim that the American and French revolutions were primarily concerned with freedom, which they understood in the ancient Greek sense of self-governance.
Although she does not yet suggest any tensions between the revolutionary goals of freedom and abundance, she will later explore this issue more deeply through her theme of Poverty as a Pre-Political Problem. She distinguishes between social equality, or equality of material conditions, and political equality, or equality of rights within a political community. In doing so, she is laying the groundwork for her broader argument that the goal of revolution should be to expand political freedom by institutionalizing political equality, rather than to eliminate social inequality.
Arendt introduces a crucial distinction between negative notions of freedom from oppression by something or someone (a.k.a. liberty) and positive notions of freedom as the ability to participate in collective decision-making, which she calls “political freedom” or “public freedom.” This distinction introduces the theme of The Virtues of Direct Democracy, which Arendt will later argue is the key to the American Revolution’s success. She argues that political freedom and political equality are spatially limited by the boundaries of a given political community, a notion she derives from the practice of the ancient Greek city-states.
Regardless of their material circumstances or station in life, Greek citizens were all equal within the polis, where everyone’s opinion and vote was weighed equally: “The Greeks held that no one can be free except among his peers” (21). In other words, this type of freedom exists only among people interacting with each other to achieve a collective goal. Arendt follows this Greek tradition in asserting the importance of local organs of direct democracy where citizens meet face-to-face, as in the polis.
The chapter ends with the 19th-century German philosopher George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel’s philosophy of history, which was inspired by the French Revolution. Hegel argued that the “meaning” of history could only be discovered retrospectively: To properly understand a phenomenon, you have to know the outcome in order to trace back the factors that led to it. This is what Hegel meant by “historical necessity”; he did not mean that events were preordained, and yet subsequent philosophers in the Hegelian tradition—most importantly, the 19th-century German economic philosopher Karl Marx—nevertheless interpreted the Revolution not as the consequences of the willful actions of revolutionaries, but as an inexorable chain of events. Arendt suggests that the problem with this approach is that it discounts the intentions and agency of revolutionary actors in favor of the teleological interpretations of post-hoc observers.
By Hannah Arendt