Reading: Thomas Hobbes Speaks

Thomas Hobbes Speaks: A Reflection on My Life and Theories

Greetings. I am Thomas Hobbes, born in 1588 during the tumultuous time of the Spanish Armada—a year where England's political and religious tensions hung heavy in the air. The world I was born into was rife with conflict and transformation, from Queen Elizabeth I's rule to the subsequent English Civil War, which shaped my view of human nature and society.

I lived through great change, not just in politics but also in science. I witnessed the rise of great minds like René Descartes and Galileo Galilei, whose work I admired greatly. They viewed the world through the lens of reason and scientific observation, and I sought to do the same. My life was long by the standards of the time, spanning 91 years, from 1588 to 1679—a lifetime in which I saw great advancements in thought.

On My Philosophy: A Materialist View of the World

I was, fundamentally, a materialist. You see, I believed that all reality—yes, everything—is composed of matter in motion. This includes the most sacred of human experiences: thoughts, emotions, and desires. To some, this may seem radical, but I have always found the world more comprehensible through the lens of the physical. There are no ethereal planes of ideal forms, as Plato would argue—no mystical realms. Instead, everything we experience can be explained by physical processes.

What about humans, you ask? What drives us? Fear. Survival. Self-interest. Strip away the pleasantries of civilized life, and you will find that our natural state is one of war. Left to ourselves, without the protection of society, our lives would be, as I have famously said, "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." We are constantly in conflict, driven by our desire to preserve ourselves and avoid death.

This brings us to my most famous work, Leviathan. I argued for the necessity of a strong, centralized authority to keep our brutish instincts in check. Without a sovereign power to impose order, humans would tear each other apart. The social contract—ah, yes, the contract!—is where we surrender some freedoms for the security of living in a civil society. It is not that we trust each other, but we fear chaos more.

Government and the Social Contract

Now, let us be clear. I did not believe in the divine right of kings, though I understood the utility of such beliefs for maintaining order. The power of the sovereign comes not from God but from the people, who collectively agree to submit to authority in exchange for protection. The sovereign’s power, once established, must be absolute to prevent any return to the state of nature. But this power is not divine; it is pragmatic, a necessity to prevent chaos.

Some of my contemporaries might accuse me of being too pessimistic, too harsh in my view of human nature. But what I saw during the English Civil War convinced me that without strong governance, humanity would devolve into violence and disorder. I have often been accused of being too mechanical in my view of society, but I see no other way. Just as the laws of motion govern the natural world, so must laws govern human society.

Influence and Legacy

As I reflect on the world after me, I see how my ideas influenced others. John Locke, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and even that great German philosopher, Immanuel Kant, all wrestled with the concept of the social contract. Locke, in particular, disagreed with my grim view of human nature, but nonetheless, he built upon my work. And David Hume—ah, Hume!—he took my materialism further, developing his own skeptical and empiricist views.

My ideas also reached beyond the ivory towers of philosophy into the realm of politics. Realists like Machiavelli understood, as I did, that power is the currency of politics. In modern international relations, I suspect my views on power, self-interest, and sovereignty remain relevant. The trade-offs between liberty and security that I outlined have shaped debates on governance ever since.

My Religious Ground Motive: The Role of God and Nature

Now, let me address a question that has often been posed: my view of religion. Did I reject God? No, not entirely. But I did see the world as fundamentally natural, governed by laws of physics and motion. If God exists, He operates through these laws, not through miracles or divine interventions. I was, as some of you may call it, a naturalist. I believed in explaining all phenomena, even human behavior, through the physical world. There is little room for the supernatural in my system.

I knew religion had a powerful influence on society. I saw its usefulness for maintaining social order, and in Leviathan, I argued that the sovereign should control religious institutions to prevent religious conflict. Religion, for me, was less about divine truth and more about political stability. It was a tool, you see, to prevent further division and chaos.

Philosophers like Roy Clouser and Herman Dooyeweerd might analyze my views as rooted in what they call the "nature-grace ground motive." In my thinking, nature is self-sufficient, governed by the physical and empirical, while grace—the divine intervention so central to traditional religious worldviews—is minimized. I reduce morality, religion, and society itself to the realm of nature. I believe that we can explain human behavior, ethics, and social structures without invoking divine will. My focus was always on survival, on the avoidance of conflict, not on grace or salvation.

A Pragmatic Approach to Religion

I never dismissed religion outright, but I viewed it as a mechanism for social cohesion rather than a source of ultimate truth. In contrast to the traditional Christian worldview, which sees humans as created in the image of God, governed by divine law, I saw humans as driven by fear and self-preservation. Morality, too, is a construct that helps us avoid the chaos of our natural state. For me, the social contract was far more important than any divine command.

In a world where divine influence was limited, human affairs had to be managed by human institutions. Political and social order could not be left to chance or to the whims of divine will. They had to be maintained by laws and authority.

Conclusion

So, what remains of my legacy? I have been called a materialist, a political realist, and a pessimist, but I prefer to think of myself as a pragmatist. I observed the world as it is, not as I wished it to be. I understood human nature and the need for order. In my view, the most rational thing humans can do is to accept the social contract, submit to authority, and live in peace under the rule of law.

And if that requires setting aside metaphysical dreams of a divine plan, so be it. What matters, in the end, is survival. The rest is illusion.