Book X. Of Laws in the Relation They Bear to Offensive Force

　　1. Of offensive Force. Offensive force is regulated by the law of nations, which is the political law of each country considered in its relation to every other.

　　2. Of War. The life of governments is like that of man. The latter has a right to kill in case of natural defence: the former have a right to wage war for their own preservation.

　　In the case of natural defence I have a right to kill, because my life is in respect to me what the life of my antagonist is to him: in the same manner a state wages war because its preservation is like that of any other being.

　　With individuals the right of natural defence does not imply a necessity of attacking. Instead of attacking they need only have recourse to proper tribunals. They cannot therefore exercise this right of defence but in sudden cases, when immediate death would be the consequence of waiting for the assistance of the law. But with states the right of natural defence carries along with it sometimes the necessity of attacking; as for instance, when one nation sees that a continuance of peace will enable another to destroy her, and that to attack that nation instantly is the only way to prevent her own destruction.

　　Thence it follows that petty states have oftener a right to declare war than great ones, because they are oftener in the case of being afraid of destruction.

　　The right of war, therefore, is derived from necessity and strict justice. If those who direct the conscience or councils of princes do not abide by this maxim, the consequence is dreadful: when they proceed on arbitrary principles of glory, convenience, and utility, torrents of blood must overspread the earth.

　　But, above all, let them not plead such an idle pretext as the glory of the prince: his glory is nothing but pride; it is a passion, and not a legitimate right.

　　It is true the fame of his power might increase the strength of his government; but it might be equally increased by the reputation of his justice.

　　3. Of the Right of Conquest. From the right of war comes that of conquest; which is the consequence of that right, and ought therefore to follow its spirit.

　　The right the conqueror has over a conquered people is directed by four sorts of laws: the law of nature, which makes everything tend to the preservation of the species; the law of natural reason, which teaches us to do to others what we would have done to ourselves; the law that forms political societies, whose duration nature has not limited; and, in fine, the law derived from the nature of the thing itself. Conquest is an acquisition, and carries with it the spirit of preservation and use, not of destruction.

　　The inhabitants of a conquered country are treated by the conqueror in one of the four following ways: Either he continues to rule them according to their own laws, and assumes to himself only the exercise of the political and civil government; or he gives them new political and civil government; or he destroys and disperses the society; or, in fine, he exterminates the people.

　　The first way is conformable to the law of nations now followed; the fourth is more agreeable to the law of nations followed by the Romans: in respect to which I leave the reader to judge how far we have improved upon the ancients. We must give due commendations to our modern refinements in reason, religion, philosophy, and manners.

　　The authors of our public law, guided by ancient histories, without confining themselves to cases of strict necessity, have fallen into very great errors. They have adopted tyrannical and arbitrary principles, by supposing the conquerors to be invested with I know not what right to kill: thence they have drawn consequences as terrible as the very principle, and established maxims which the conquerors themselves, when possessed of the least grain of sense, never presumed to follow. It is a plain case that when the conquest is completed, the conqueror has no longer a right to kill, because he has no longer the plea of natural defence and self-preservation.

　　What has led them into this mistake is, that they imagined a conqueror had a right to destroy the state; whence they inferred that he had a right to destroy the men that compose it: a wrong consequence from a false principle. For from the destruction of the state it does not at all follow that the people who compose it ought to be also destroyed. The state is the association of men, and not the men themselves; the citizen may perish, and the man remain.

　　From the right of killing in the case of conquest, politicians have drawn that of reducing to slavery — a consequence as ill-grounded as the principle.

　　There is no such thing as a right of reducing people to slavery, save when it becomes necessary for the preservation of the conquest. Preservation, and not servitude, is the end of conquest; though servitude may happen sometimes to be a necessary means of preservation.

　　Even in that case it is contrary to the nature of things that the slavery should be perpetual. The people enslaved ought to be rendered capable of becoming subjects. Slavery in conquests is an accidental thing. When after the expiration of a certain space of time all the parts of the conquering state are connected with the conquered nation, by custom, marriages, laws, associations, and by a certain conformity of disposition, there ought to be an end of the slavery. For the rights of the conqueror are founded entirely on the opposition between the two nations in those very articles, whence prejudices arise, and the want of mutual confidence.

　　A conqueror, therefore, who reduces the conquered people to slavery, ought always to reserve to himself the means （for means there are without number） of restoring them to their liberty.

　　These are far from being vague and uncertain notions. Thus our ancestors acted, those ancestors who conquered the Roman empire. The laws they made in the heat and transport of passion and in the insolence of victory were gradually softened; those laws were at first severe, but were afterwards rendered impartial. The Burgundians, Goths, and Lombards would have the Romans continue a conquered people; but the laws of Euric, Gundebald, and Rotharis made the Romans and barbarians fellow-citizens.1

　　Charlemagne, to tame the Saxons, deprived them of their liberty and property. Louis the Debonnaire made them a free people,2 and this was one of the most prudent regulations during his whole reign. Time and servitude had softened their manners, and they ever after adhered to him with the greatest fidelity.

　　4. Some Advantages of a conquered People. Instead of inferring such destructive consequences from the right of conquest, much better would it have been for politicians to mention the advantages which this very right may sometimes give to a conquered people — advantages which would be more sensibly and more universally experienced were our law of nations exactly followed, and established in every part of the globe.

　　Conquered countries are, generally speaking, degenerated from their original institution. Corruption has crept in, the execution of the laws has been neglected, and the government has grown oppressive. Who can question but such a state would be a gainer, and derive some advantages from the very conquest itself, if it did not prove destructive? When a government has arrived at that degree of corruption as to be incapable of reforming itself, it would not lose much by being newly moulded. A conqueror who enters triumphant into a country where the moneyed men have, by a variety of artifices, insensibly arrived at innumerable ways of encroaching on the public, where the miserable people, who see abuses grown into laws, are ready to sink under the weight of impression, yet think they have no right to apply for redress — a conqueror, I say, may make a total change, and then the tyranny of those wretches will be the first thing exposed to his resentment.

　　We have beheld, for instance, countries oppressed by the farmers of the revenues, and eased afterwards by the conqueror, who had neither the engagements nor wants of the legitimate prince. Even the abuses have been often redressed without any interposition of the conqueror.

　　Sometimes the frugality of a conquering nation has enabled them to allow the conquered those necessaries of which they had been deprived under a lawful prince.

　　A conquest may destroy pernicious prejudices, and lay, if I may presume to use the expression, the nation under a better genius.

　　What good might not the Spaniards have done to the Mexicans? They had a mild religion to impart to them; but they filled their heads with a frantic superstition. They might have set slaves at liberty; they made freemen slaves. They might have undeceived them with regard to the abuse of human sacrifices; instead of that they destroyed them. Never should I have finished, were I to recount all the good they might have done, and all the mischief they committed.

　　It is a conqueror's business to repair a part of the mischief he has occasioned. The right, therefore, of conquest I define thus: a necessary, lawful, but unhappy power, which leaves the conqueror under a heavy obligation of repairing the injuries done to humanity.

　　5. Gelon, King of Syracuse. The noblest treaty of peace ever mentioned in history is, in my opinion, that which Gelon made with the Carthaginians. He insisted upon their abolishing the custom of sacrificing their children.3 Glorious indeed! After having defeated three hundred thousand Carthaginians, he required a condition that was advantageous only to themselves, or rather he stipulated in favour of human nature.

　　The Bactrians exposed their aged fathers to be devoured by large mastiffs — a custom suppressed by Alexander, whereby he obtained a signal triumph over superstition.

　　6. Of Conquest made by a Republic. It is contrary to the nature of things that in a confederate government one state should make any conquest over another, as in our days we have seen in Switzerland.4 In mixed confederate republics, where the association is between petty republics and monarchies, of a small extent, this is not so absurd.

　　Contrary is it also to the nature of things that a democratic republic should conquer towns which cannot enter into the sphere of its democracy. It is necessary that the conquered people should be capable of enjoying the privileges of sovereignty, as was settled in the very beginning among the Romans. The conquest ought to be limited to the number of citizens fixed for the democracy.

　　If a democratic republic subdues a nation in order to govern them as subjects, it exposes its own liberty; because it entrusts too great a power to those who are appointed to the command of the conquered provinces.

　　How dangerous would have been the situation of the republic of Carthage had Hannibal made himself master of Rome? What would he not have done in his own country, had he been victorious, he who caused so many revolutions in it after his defeat?5

　　Hanno could never have dissuaded the senate from sending succour to Hannibal, had he used no other argument than his own jealousy. The Carthaginian senate, whose wisdom is so highly extolled by Aristotle （and which has been evidently proved by the prosperity of that republic）, could never have been determined by other than solid reasons. They must have been stupid not to see that an army at the distance of three hundred leagues would necessarily be exposed to losses which required reparation.

　　Hanno's party insisted that Hannibal should be delivered up to the Romans.6 They could not at that time be afraid of the Romans; they were therefore apprehensive of Hannibal.

　　It was impossible, some will say, for them to imagine that Hannibal had been so successful. But how was it possible for them to doubt it? Could the Carthaginians, a people spread over all the earth, be ignorant of what was transacting in Italy? No: they were sufficiently acquainted with it, and for that reason they did not care to send supplies to Hannibal.

　　Hanno became more resolute after the battle of Trebia, after the battle of Thrasimenus, after that of Cann?; it was not his incredulity that increased, but his fear.

　　7. The same Subject continued. There is still another inconvenience in conquests made by democracies: their government is ever odious to the conquered states. It is apparently monarchical: but in reality it is much more oppressive than monarchy, as the experience of all ages and countries evinces.

　　The conquered people are in a melancholy situation; they neither enjoy the advantages of a republic, nor those of a monarchy.

　　What has been here said of a popular state is applicable to aristocracy.

　　8. The same Subject continued. When a republic, therefore, keeps another nation in subjection, it should endeavour to repair the inconveniences arising from the nature of its situation by giving it good laws both for the political and civil government of the people.

　　We have an instance of an island in the Mediterranean, subject to an Italian republic, whose political and civil laws with regard to the inhabitants of that island were extremely defective. The act of indemnity,7 by which it ordained that no one should be condemned to bodily punishment in consequence of the private knowledge of the governor, ex informata conscientia, is still recent in everybody's memory. There have been frequent , instances of the people's petitioning for privileges; here the sovereign grants only the common right of all nations.

　　9. Of Conquests made by a Monarchy. If a monarchy can long subsist before it is weakened by its increase, it will become formidable; and its strength will remain entire, while pent up by the neighbouring monarchies.

　　It ought not, therefore, to aim at conquests beyond the natural limits of its government. So soon as it has passed these limits, it is prudence to stop.

　　In this kind of conquest things must be left as they were found — the same courts of judicature, the same laws, the same customs, the same privileges: there ought to be no other alteration than that of the army and of the name of the sovereign.

　　When a monarchy has extended its limits by the conquest of neighbouring provinces, it should treat those provinces with great lenity.

　　If a monarchy has been long endeavouring at conquest, the provinces of its ancient demesne are generally ill-used. They are obliged to submit both to the new and to the ancient abuses; and to be depopulated by a vast metropolis, that swallows up the whole. Now if, after having made conquests round this demesne, the conquered people were treated like the ancient subjects, the state would be undone; the taxes sent by the conquered provinces to the capital would never return; the inhabitants of the frontiers would be ruined, and consequently the frontiers would be weaker; the people would be disaffected; and the subsistence of the armies designed to act and remain there would become more precarious.

　　Such is the necessary state of a conquering monarchy: a shocking luxury in the capital; misery in the provinces somewhat distant; and plenty in the most remote. It is the same with such a monarchy as with our planet; fire at the centre, verdure on the surface, and between both a dry, cold, and barren earth.