From the History of the Peloponnesian War to Leviathan: Hobbes and the Knowledge and Wisdom for Peace

In his De Oratore, Cicero conceives of history as Magistra Vitae; that is to say, as a lesson one has to learn in face of our actions for the future. This idea was a cornerstone not only of classic historiography but also of medieval historiography and the historiography of enlightenment. Likewise one can conceive of history as a source of learning to avoid social or political calamities, basically war. In other words, one can conceive of it not as a mere informer of any future, but of one that is characterized by peace and security. This is the sense of the sentence coined by Edmund Burke: "Those who don't know history are destined to repeat it," which was adopted almost verbatim by Jorge Santayana in his The Life of Reason and which today has been converted into a proverb. Less known, but to the same effect, German intellectuals such as Micha Brumlik and Jürgen Habermas have asked the question: "Learning from catastrophes?" (Aus Katastrophen lernen?). With this, they invite us to revise the history of the twentieth century to not repeat it.

Even though in a very special way, the work of Thomas Hobbes can undoubtedly be considered part of this tradition, for him the experience of the past—not necessarily history—is the kind of knowledge that supports the wisdom of prudence, which, despite its fallibility, is useful for keeping peace. Although there are important variations, this thesis traverses the work of Hobbes from beginning to end. Actually, this is already announced when Hobbes publishes his translation of Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War and, with modifications, will be maintained until his latest texts. In other words, besides all the disparities his thought in this respect suffers, Hobbes maintains the thesis that the experience of the past teaches men in the present to act wisely to achieve peace.

Analytically spoken, three fundamental elements of this thesis deserve consideration: first, the very question of the link between experience and prudence, which is not evident at all.¹ A second element is the experience of the past as cognitive resource; that is to say as useful knowledge for political actions in the present; and the third and last element is the very practice of the prudent act, which is—as I argue here from a pragmatist viewpoint—determined by the logic of practice and not only by the logic of experiential knowledge. These three elements make up the argument and reconstructive work I present in this article.

If prudence, like science, is valued by Hobbes, strictly in function of its use to guarantee peace, this leads directly to the question for the subjects that possess this knowledge, as well as for the subject that, as a representative of the people, is destined to use it to achieve the collective good of peace. The figure of counselor of the prince, to which Hobbes dedicates various passages of his work, implies that these subjects are not necessarily the same person. I will leave this difference aside here, not because it would be irrelevant but because it does not add to my argument. The latter is based on the normative assumption that whoever assumes the position of the prince has to be the most competent to produce and keep the peace. To use the vocabulary of Boltanski and Thévenot (2006, 107), I assume that the prince is the greatest in the civic polity, given that the latter is defined by the collective good of peace.

Starting from this assumption, I ask how the highest greatness is achieved in civic polity. The answer seems to be quite obvious: this greatness is reached by obtaining the most experience of the past because this is the source of prudent wisdom. This is what Hobbes would answer. I argue that this is only one part of the answer and that the other part can be identified only if the logic of the practice is considered. It is known that Hobbes of the Leviathan radically rejects the idea that prudence...