Rousseau and the Qualified Support of Matriarchal Rule

Abstract

The article investigates the relations between men and women in Rousseau’s major works to uncover the possibility of a long-term rule of women over men. Rousseau does provide examples of alternating rule between the sexes. However, given that the rule of prominent women like Sophie and Julie is indirect and more Machiavellian than that of men, I make the case that Rousseau sees straightforward control by women as more consistent with modern conditions (specifically in an indirect-rule as opposed to an instrumental-rationality sense). First, I provide examples of Sophie’s rule in Emile. Sophie rules Emile especially through acts of charity that incline Emile to participate in the project that Sophie has undertaken, making him more capable of willing generally. Second, I show that Julie at Clarens rules a number of the men there and particularly in the administration of the estate. Interestingly, like Sophie’s, her power is communicated through concrete examples of charitable action. Rousseau writes that, as a result, those around her are imbued with the spirit to contribute to the projects of importance to her, which also renders them more apt to will generally. Interestingly, two women as different as Sophie and Julie rule men in the same way: through charity. They do so as the result of a religious education. And, whereas religious education in Rousseau is in general anti-metaphysical, this is especially true for women compared to men. The examples of Sophie and Julie do, therefore, take us into territory of the sexes alternating in rule. But the difference in education suggests that for Rousseau their rule goes deeper and represents a relation more fundamental than the rule of men over women. The possibility is further confirmed through an analysis of Rousseau’s states of nature. At the end of the day, the reevaluation of relations between the sexes in Rousseau’s work is long overdue. I engage a rich scholarly literature and embark on a rereading of several of Rousseau’s works to offer a fresh interpretation that suggests the citizen of Geneva was not only open to a significant increase in the power of women over time, but that he actually favored matriarchy. The argument hopefully underscores the way in which great works are both timely and timeless.

1. Introduction

Does republican political life for Rousseau require a specific kind of relation between the sexes that results in the subjugation of women? Does it require a specific kind of family structure in which women are permanently second-class citizens? These are important questions because according to Rousseau every government that is not republican, i.e., that is not based on the general will, is illegitimate. Rousseau, unlike Hobbes, devotes a good deal of his writing to family structure, so one is led to suspect that relations between the sexes have a good deal to do with the realization of a general will. And if, for Rousseau, the realization of a general will requires the sacrifice of the possibility of autonomy for one half of the human race, then an irremediable chasm in Rousseau’s thought exists. In this article, I argue that despite the use of rigid family roles for specific political ends, Rousseau is actually open over time to an undermining of expectations associated with gender. Shockingly, given what the literature to date has held, there is evidence in his works that he would have supported matriarchal forms of rule.

There are three major camps of interpretation with respect to Rousseau’s writing on women. The first holds that Rousseau was incorrigibly sexist and, in some cases, that sympathetic readings of his oeuvre today are possible only after whitewashing the genuinely problematic statements he makes about one half of the human race. The perspective of the first camp is represented in the writing of Susan Okin (1979), Carole Pateman (1980a, 1980b, 1985, 1988), Genevieve Lloyd (1983), and Zillah Eisenstein (1981; Darling and Van De Pijpekamp 1994). The second group holds that Rousseau’s disparate treatment of women was not necessarily a question of sexism alone. It may have been connected to the imperative of constructing a republican public sphere, in which system-wide considerations for Rousseau outweighed a due regard for the rights of all. And there is the suggestion that the philosopher may have been open to the alternate rule by one sex of the other. The second set of scholars is associated with work by Eileen Hunt Botting (2007, 2019), Penny Weiss (1987, 1990), Joel Schwartz (1984), Jean Bethke Elshtain (1981), Catherine Larrere (2010), and Paul Thomas (1991). The third camp resists the idea that Rousseau straightforwardly presents the subjugation of women by men, arguing that what is evident is a subversion of patriarchy or even the possibility of matriarchy. The camp in question is associated with the work of Nicole Fermon (1994, 1997), Mira Morgenstern (2010), Lori Marso (1998, 2001), Rosanne Terese Kennedy (2012), Helena Rosenblatt (2002), and Lynda Lange (1981). I build on the work of the third camp, and specifically of Lori Marso (1998, 2001), to call attention in particular to two instances in which women dominate men. These are the rule of Sophie in Emile and Julie in La Nouvelle Héloïse. The central insight of this paper is that two diametrically different women, Sophie and Julie, rule men in exactly the same way. Sophie is simple and plain, whereas Julie is philosophic and regal. Sophie and Emile, if we are to take the ending of Emile seriously, are to feel comfortable in any regime, whereas Julie is suited for an aristocratic compound. Given these differences, it is all the more remarkable that both Sophie and Julie use the same techniques (a praxis-oriented religion of charity) to rule the men in their lives. I tie this back in the article to the republican imperative of constituting male citizens who are able to will generally.

The manner in which women rule is through a very specific family structure. Gender roles are finely drawn. Whereas men are to be assertive, women are to be docile and submissive. They are confined to a precisely delineated domestic sphere, in which they bear babies and breastfeed future citizens. Given these constraints, it is no surprise to learn that women have to rule men by getting them to will on their own what women desire. The way women do this is through opinion. Notions of correct or proper behavior, Rousseau will show, can bring about through shame the adoption of certain courses of action over others. If opinion has such power, and if it is women who create and maintain it, then in effect it is women who hold tremendous power over men. To emphasize again, rule in the private sphere, as I show in building on the work of Eileen Hunt Botting (2007, 2019), relates directly to the public sphere insofar as the citizen who is able to will generally—to be a part of Rousseau’s general will—must first have his will constituted at home.

Rousseau does uphold rigid gender roles in the family; however, what must be noted, and what has not been pointed out to date, is that the roles in question are a Machiavellian device through which women are able to rule men indirectly (I make clear that the sense in which for Rousseau women are more representative of the modern condition involves their aptitude for indirect rule and an anti-metaphysical stance, as opposed to other identifying characteristics of modernity, such as instrumental-technical rationality). And just as, if not more, importantly, Rousseau’s tightly delineated gender roles do not represent an argument from nature or one based on innate qualities of men and women (Weiss 1987, 1990).

In understanding the power of mores and that of the empire of opinion, Rousseau held that women would rule in this way. His starting with mores, and his taking of an incremental step to push mores in the direction that he would like to see developed further, makes sense in light of his philosophy as a whole. This leads to the question of how to create such powerful and binding opinion, which can contribute every bit as much if not more than legislation to actual rule (as I go on to show through reference to Tocqueville). According to Rousseau, it happens only through religion, meaning that women in the domestic sphere uphold a belief system from which authoritative moral opinion derives.

Yet Rousseau says explicitly that it is fathers and husbands who are the authorities in religion. So how, exactly, are women to rule? I will show that Rousseau uses the word “religion” in at least two different senses. There is the man’s religion, which is metaphysical and detached from particulars. There is the woman’s, which is praxis-oriented and creates opinion through concrete examples of charity.

The movement from metaphysical abstraction to concrete example of charity involves a translation, which further increases the power of women. I rely on recent work in the hermeneutics of translation that shows how, far from being a passive transcriber of one set of symbols into another, the translator is actually an active subject. Translation involves interpretation. This serves to further increase women’s power.

The translation-related examples of Sophie, and of Julie in particular, indicate more than the possibility of alternating modes of domination between the sexes. Julie and Wolmar appear to rule the estate collaboratively. But at the end of the day, it is Julie whose perspective is architectonic and represents the principle of rule. The examples therefore point to the actual rule of women over men.

This, in turn, is consistent with the description, in the Emile Book V discussion of Sophie’s education, of what Rousseau believes is a powerful impulse of women that, if left unchecked, leads to the domination of men by women. This would make impossible any political order other than tyranny, much less a republic. Rousseau’s history of states of nature in the Second Discourse and a significant remark in the First Discourse are consistent with this account. In the earliest state of nature, according to Rousseau, there are only relations of equality and autonomy—and in the next natural state, characterized by the first beads and dances around the tree, society is already patriarchal in appearance. At some point, however, the deeper truth of effectual matriarchal rule, consistent with the suggestions and out-of-the-way statements in Emile and the First and Second Discourses becomes real. Julie only provides further confirmation of this worldview.

Below, I interrogate and engage in dialogue with one another five of Rousseau’s major texts: the First and Second Discourses, On the Social Contract, Emile, and Julie, or the New Heloise. First, I point to concrete instances of Sophie ruling Emile. Next, I discuss the yet more pronounced cases in which Julie rules the men by whom she is surrounded. In both cases the rule by women of men takes place through a simple and charity focused religion of praxis. Third, I discuss the religious education which was necessary for both Sophie and Julie to take the steps they do in asserting their power over men. I show that, although it is consistent with a republican model in which citizens rule and subject themselves to rule in turn, its emphasis on practice and the need for women to translate abstract principles into context-dependent acts of charity means that women have more agency, as the authors of religion that constitutes male citizens who go on to will generally in the public square. Fourth, I point out how this reading is supported by easily overlooked passages in Emile and the first Discourse on Inequality.

To emphasize, it is not and for the sake of this argument need not be clear, exactly, when the impulse of one sex to dominate the other materializes. We do not require, at this moment, a precise account of the series of philosophical and legal interventions that redirected matriarchal rule into channels Rousseau would consider more moderate. The point is that, as Rousseau sees it, an underlying matriarchal order is the reality. The only question, going forward, is what new and unexpected forms it will take.

2. Sophie Ruling Emile through the Practice of Charity

Before discussing how at times it is Sophie who rules Emile, it is necessary to acknowledge that in a number of passages, and perhaps in the ones that are most apparent, Emile rules Sophie. Thus Rousseau holds that men depend on women because of desires, whereas women depend on men because of desires and necessity (a woman is physically weaker and in need of protection). Therefore, or so Rousseau would have it, men would have an easier time without women than vice versa. Which in turn means that it is the woman’s duty to please the man, and not the other way around. In addition to being modest and faithful and appearing to be such, women must strive to please.

To the prescribed end, according to Rousseau, a girl must be brought up coquettish (“Little girls love adornment almost from birth”1). She must adorn her doll—later her body—and from the need to do so on her own takes up sewing, embroidery, and lacemaking. Drawing, which allows adornment greater scope in the dimension of imagination, comes next. A woman must not be coquettish alone, however, which would imply entertainment, but coquettish and constrained. Constraint is required to prepare a girl for a life of strict submission to the man. Thus, the girl ought always to have a chore. Coquetry and constraint do not seem to go together; Rousseau unites the two in a woman. Rousseau rounds out the picture with a look at a couple of other pleasing arts and the ability of the woman to please through cleverness, wit,2 and taste.3 Other aspects of education also flow from the same imperatives—which Rousseau admits to having a disparate impact on the two sexes (Ibid). “Once it is demonstrated that man and woman are not and ought not to be constituted in the same way in either character or temperament, it follows that they ought not to have the same education.”4 Indeed, the discussion of religion in general in Emile points to the rule of men over women. Thus, to suppose it such one would have to ignore the all-telling introductory clause in the statement, “Since authority ought to rule the religion of women [italics mine], the issue is not so much explaining to them the reasons there are for believing as of explaining distinctly what we believe …” (E 377–78). Rousseau is not clear whether the authority in question here is that of the mother or the father and later husband. The girl should be catechized, Rousseau is clear, by her mother. But every woman should have her husband’s religion. “If this religion is false, the docility which subjects mother and daughter to the order of nature erases from God’s sight the sin of this error. Since women are not in a position to be judges themselves, they ought to receive the decision of fathers and husbands like that of the Church” (E 377). Women’s need for authority follows from their nature. Writes Rousseau, “Woman’s reason is practical and makes them very skillful at finding means for getting to a known end, but not at finding that end in itself” (Ibid). Far from determining opinion, “in her conduct woman is enslaved by public opinion … in her belief she is enslaved by authority” (Ibid).

But this is not the whole story. Throughout, Rousseau cautions that a woman cannot forsake the use of her reason—one who did would not be able to truly please a man of merit, and it is with such men that a woman ought to be concerned.“ In order to make her more subject, will he prevent her from … knowing anything? … Surely not … On the contrary, nature wants them [women] to think, to judge, to love, to know, to cultivate their minds as well as their looks. These are the weapons nature gives them to take the place of the strength they lack and to direct ours” (E 364). Rousseau does not lose sight of the fact that a woman must please first and foremost with her person, her adornment of soul, so that she may direct the finest men of the world—as did the women of Sparta. Such rule, it goes without saying, is indirect. And, indeed, a couple important passages do point to the rule of Sophie. The paragraph relevant to Sophie’s rule of Emile through charity must be quoted in full:

“Sophie is religious, but her religion is reasonable and simple, with little dogma and less in the way of devout practices—or, rather, she knows no essential practice other than morality, and she devotes her entire life to serving God by doing [italics mine] good”.

(E 396–97).

In all of Rousseau I do not recall a single man being described as devoted wholly and entirely to God. Julie, as we will see presently, in this respect is exactly the same. The emphasis on doing good should come as no surprise after the analysis above—the citation distills everything we have been able to glean from Rousseau thus far. Rousseau continues:

“In all the instructions her parents have given her on this subject, they have accustomed her to a respectful submission by always saying to her, ‘My daughter, this knowledge is not for your age. Your husband will instruct you in it when the time comes.’ For the rest, instead of long speeches about piety, they are content to preach piety to her by their example, and that example is engraved on her heart”

(E 397).

The authority of the husband here, I want to point out, is not at odds with my thesis. The husband will instruct his wife in knowledge. But she still has to translate the knowledge into practice. The process of translation is when her agency becomes real.

One example in particular of rule through charity stands out. Having grown accustomed to Sophie, Emile and the Tutor are on the way to meet her and her parents. Along the way, they happen upon a family in distress. The man has broken his leg and the woman is in acute birth pains. Deciding to drop the appointment rather than see a woman die, Emile and the Tutor stay behind. Emile rides off at full gallop to find a surgeon. The Tutor does not go into more detail. Upon arrival, it becomes clear that Sophie’s parents have been fuming, and Sophie is none too pleased, either. Emile and the Tutor have not stuck to their word.

Upon hearing their story, however, Sophie’s countenance changes. Emile rushes up to her, fearing the worst, and exclaims that Sophie can cause him to die and is the master of his fate. Without responding, Sophie reassures him that he will not have to die: “Emile, take this hand. It is yours. Be my husband and master when you wish. I will try to merit this honor.” Sophie rewards Emile’s charity with her own, reaffirming his commitment and assuring him that it is good and pleasing in her eyes. Although she feigns submissiveness, it is in effect she who judges Emile and decides in his favor. She reassures Emile that charitable behavior will not be penalized in the future. Sophie returns to him one hundred fold what he has given her. Such rule, it goes without saying, is indirect.

In fairness, it should be noted that Emile’s parole ends with, “But do not hope to make me forget the rights of humanity. They are more sacred to me than yours. I will never give them up for you.” Although this might imply a parity of power, with both Emile and Sophie independent, the obvious point is that Sophie is able to make her companion die of pain. Is there any indication anywhere that Emile has a power to match? Certainly, Rousseau admits that men need women out of desire, whereas women need them out of desire and necessity. A man, hypothetically, might leave a woman outside to die in the cold. He, too, seems to have the power of life and death. However, there is a difference. By not providing for her and leaving her out in the cold, a man relies on brute, physical necessity. Sophie’s power goes deeper, to the emotions, and arguably to the soul. Emile’s self-sufficiency, as indicated in multiple other places in the work, is less (E 440–41). This is far from the only example of charity-driven rule on Sophie’s part that one could cite. Consider the part in Book V where Emile asks the Tutor why Sophie seems to be holding something back, and the Tutor explains that it is not Emile’s wealth that bothers her, but the possibility that the wealth has corrupted his soul (Ibid. 422–23). Sophie’s charity insists on seeing Emile’s charity. After learning from the Tutor what Sophie’s soul dictates, Emile is seen helping farmers and peasants in diverse ways. Perhaps he would have done so on his own; nevertheless, it is Sophie’s example that draws out the goodness in his soul (Ibid. 434–36).

3. Julie Ruling Men at Clarens through the Practice of Charity

Julie, like Sophie, participates in the ruling of men through the application of charity. In the case of Julie this mode of ruling is yet more pronounced. Julie, in fact, represents a woman in many respects diametrically opposite to Sophie. This makes Rousseau’s use of women to demonstrate rule over men more significant insofar as diverse human types are involved.

Judith Shklar has claimed that Wolmar is the ultimate authority at Clarens, not Julie,5 but the fact is Julie has the most influence. Indeed, she is the decisive influence on Wolmar and almost everyone else at Clarens, including a large part of the staff. By “rule” at Clarens I mean making sure that all the parts of the whole function well together. Clarens may be an estate of hundreds, autarkic and needing to ensure that workers of both sexes interact correctly and remain happy on the job. St. Preux refers to both Wolmar and Julie as “masters.”6 The critical task is to separate the men and women in a fair manner, with occasional mingling but no unintended consequences, and here St. Preux indicates that the reigning intellect is Julie’s. “To forestall a dangerous intimacy between the two sexes, they are not constrained here by explicit laws which they would be tempted to break secretly; but without any apparent intention, customs are instituted that are more powerful than authority [italics mine]. They are not forbidden to see each other, but it happens by design that they have neither the opportunity not the will to do so” (Ibid., p. 370). It is Julie, in the rest of the paragraph, who provides the reasoning behind the arrangement adopted. A woman, as we have seen in Emile, is best suited to rule through mores. One does not picture Wolmar ruling in this way.

Julie also interacts with both men and women—she is not confined to her own household: “However an even more effective means [of increasing productivity], the only one that appears not to be inspired by economic views and is more suited to Madame de Wolmar, is to win the affection of these good folks by extending hers to them. She does not believe that money can suffice to pay for the pains taken on her behalf, and thinks she owes services to anyone who has rendered some to her. Workers, domestics, all those who have served her even for a single day all become her children; she shares in their pleasures, in their sorrows, in their lot; she inquires about their business, there interests are hers; she takes on a thousand cares in their behalf, she gives me advice, she patches up their disputes, and expresses the affability of her character not with honeyed, ineffectual words, but with genuine services and continual acts of kindness” (Ibid., p. 365). In this way, Julie is involved intimately in the economic output of the estate. She also thinks up games to make all the human and non-human elements cohere after hours.

Furthermore, unlike Sophie, Julie scorns opinion. Her religion is an Enlightenment creed less connected to opinion than that of Sophie.7 Julie also remains much more philosophic and believes on a deep level in the autonomy of woman, not having been brought up to make the quest for a husband her life’s work.8

And there is a singular emphasis, with Julie’s rule, on hiddenness. Who can forget the description of Julie’s garden, in the mouth of St. Preux: “One would willingly believe that all the charms of nature are enclosed herein, and I would be quite fearful least the slightest opening of vista to the outside deprive this footpath of much of its attraction. Certainly any man who did not wish to spend the finest days in such a simple and agreeable place possesses neither pure taste nor a sound soul.”9 The garden is Julie’s creation. And yet her creative hand is nowhere to be seen: “Yet, I [St. Preux] continued, there is something here I cannot understand. It is that a place so different from what it was could have become what it is only through cultivation and upkeep; yet nowhere do I see the slightest trace of cultivation. Everything is verdant, fresh, vigorous, and the gardener’s hand is not to be seen [italics mine]: nothing belies the idea of a desert Island which comes to my mind as I entered, and I see no human footprints” (Ibid., p. 393). Julie’s arrangement of the Garden, which is based on cultivation, is a metaphor for her rule at Clarens. Julie cannot be seen in the Garden; so, too, is her rule at Clarens hidden and indirect, as she sets hearts afire with charity.

Of fundamental importance, then, given all these differences, is that, like Sophie, Julie rules men indirectly and does so based on acts of charity. Here is Julie ruling through acts of charity, as described by St. Preux to Milord Edward: “The happiness she enjoys multiplies and extends about her. Every house she enters soon becomes a tableau of hers; comfort and wellbeing are one of her least influences, harmony and propriety follow her from family to family.”10 St. Preux continues, “nothing [italics mine] relative to Julie is outside the scope of virtue … her life is a unique example, which few women will wish to imitate, but which they will love despite themselves” (Ibid.) More concretely, we have evidence that it is Julie who has more contact with the servants than Wolmar, and that she has the greater influence on them. When it comes to matters of punishment and justice, “petty pleadings are very rare and take place only at table during the rounds Julie makes every day at her servants’ dinner or supper and which Monsieur de Wolmar in jest calls her grand sessions [italics mine] … What is singular about this is that the harsher of the two [Wolmar and Julie] is not the more dreaded, and that they fear Monsieur de Wolmar’s stern reprimands less than Julie’s stirring reproaches. The former, giving voice to justice and truth, humiliates and confounds the guilty parties; the latter makes them feel a mortal regret for it, by expressing her own at having to deprive them of her good will. Often she wrings from them tears of grief and shame, and it is not rare for her to melt at witnessing their repentance, in the hope she will not be obliged to keep her word.”11 [italics mine] Admittedly, it is St. Preux who writes here, and his objectivity may be in doubt. Then again, so is that of all the other characters. In an epistolary novel, we must take the scraps of evidence we can get.

To summarize, both Sophie and Julie rule the men in their lives in a similar manner, which is through a technique of “hidden rule” that is represented by charity. The rule is more pronounced in Julie’s case and the emphasis on indirectness or hiddenness is greater. Although a longer paper would consider more of the specific differences in how both women apply charity, for the purposes of this article, the larger point is that both women do make use of it. Clearly, with Sophie and Julie Rousseau tries to illustrate truths about women that apply to a number of different human types. This makes Rousseau’s application of the technique of rule through charity more significant.

4. The Rule of Women through Religion

Is there a thread that connects the way Sophie indirectly rules Emile through charity to the way in which Julie rules men at Clarens with greater charity still? There is. Charity in the history of political thought is one of the theological virtues, though as this section will show especially when it comes to Julie, Rousseau has dropped what would have been in his day its traditional theological underpinning.12 The indirect rule of men through charity by both Sophie and Julie amounts to a rule by women of men through religion. To grasp the claim the understanding of two steps is required.

First, Rousseau writes that the empire of women is one of opinion. Consider the following: “A bold, brazen, scheming woman who knows how to attract her lovers only by coquetry and to keep them only by favors makes them obey her like valets in servile and common things; however, in important and weighty things she is without authority over them. But the woman who is at once decent, lovable, and self-controlled, who forces those about her to respect her, who has reserve and modesty, who, in a word, sustains love by means of esteem, sends her lovers with a nod to the end of the world, to combat, to glory, to death, to anything she pleases. This seems to me to be a noble empire, and one well worth the price of its purchase” [italics mine] (E 393). Secondly, however, it is “above all in matters of religion that opinion triumphs” (See E 260). The statement comes in the fourth book of Emile. Based on such statements, Rousseau seems to suggest that women are the ultimate religious authority. Women rule men in and through religion.

To be clear, what Rousseau means by “rule” is not just to be taken in a narrower sense of participating in the passing of binding legislation. Neither does it refer only to the handing down of directives by the government, or executive, which Rousseau admits can never occupy the seat of Sovereignty that is reserved exclusively for the general will. Rather, rule for Rousseau expands to the broader ways in which citizens are constituted, i.e., in which they are shaped for civic ends so that they are able to will universally and contribute to the general will. This situation, of course, is described in what is usually considered Rousseau’s most important political work, On the Social Contract, where the point of everyone willing universally is to avoid domination of any citizen by another.

Interestingly, Rousseau’s Emile and On the Social Contract were both written in the same year: 1762. Rousseau recognized that producing citizens who were able to will generally would require a very specific early education, and that this education would take place (among other contexts) in the home. But this kind of early education can be conceptualized in many different ways, producing different kinds of citizens, and the general will of necessity thus takes an interest in it. Therefore, and I have no doubt that this is true for Rousseau, whether what is at stake is the constituting of citizens through the empire of opinion, or early on in childhood education, rule in the broader sense is referred to in both cases. Emile provides the “missing piece” that is not present in the more obviously or directly political On the Social Contract: Emile shows how the right kind of will is formed in the first place and makes possible the general will of the Social Contract. Given the importance of opinion to this project of constructing sovereignty and the authority of the general will, it must be said that women do not merely “influence” but, in fact, contribute (and disproportionately so as this article argues) to rule.

Another example, specifically in On the Social Contract, of rule that does not involve only the narrow passing of legislation that is authoritative, but goes deeper to make possible the adoption of laws that authoritatively bind, occurs in the all-important chapter on the Legislator (Rousseau 2011a). By Legislators, Rousseau makes clear at this point that he means important individuals of the magnitude of Lycurgus. Strikingly, given the current discussion, Rousseau leaves no doubt that these Legislators—who rule in a deeper sense than run of the mill legislators in the public square—are not allowed to participate in the subsequent political process (Ibid. 181–82). They provide a religion or civil religion that Rousseau characterizes as giving human beings almost a new nature; in other words, they equip future citizens with opinions (civil religious opinions) that bind them together and make possible a political project (the general will) in which only later does actual ruling (understood in the narrower sense) become possible.

In a striking analogy, women for Rousseau, though formally excluded from the public square, in going deeper in private settings to mold opinion that then allows men to participate in rule in the public square (more narrowly construed), take on the role of Legislators in On the Social Contract.13 Further evidence of the importance to rule of authoritative opinion, and indeed of the inseparability of rule in the narrower sense from the deeper and more fundamental opinion that comes first, may be found in one of Rousseau’s most impactful students, Alexis de Tocqueville. Tocqueville, at one point, wrote that he lived a little with three authors every day: Pascal, Montesquieu, and Rousseau (Mansfield and Withrop 2000). Tocqueville incorporates a number of Rousseauian insights into his description of politics in the US mid-19th century. His description of the New England town in particular is in many ways an idealized description of what the putting into effect of a general will would look like. And the opinion—laws—authority nexus in Tocqueville, drawing in subtle ways on Rousseau, is especially illustrated by a famous passage in Tocqueville’s Democracy in America. Tocqueville has no doubt that when it comes to laws vs. mores (or authoritative opinions), it is mores that are more important to shaping politics. Here is the passage:

“These three great causes serve, no doubt, to regulate and direct the American democracy; but if they were to be classed in their proper order, I should say that the physical circumstances are less efficient than the laws, and the laws very subordinate to the manners of the people.”14

This makes additional sense, of course, given Rousseau’s oft-stated predilection for the ancients over the moderns (on display in the Discourse on the Sciences and Arts and other works). At least in Aristotle, the idea that politics is “architectonic” involves the understanding that politics is “higher” than the realms of family life, opinion, and commerce—indeed, that it integrates all these spheres into a unity—because the cohesion of a smaller city-state recognizes a number of disparate elements as all contributing to a comprehensive dynamic of “rule.” One of these elements is “opinion,” but it is only one. And the larger point is that the later (modern) notion of separate spheres (some private and others public) existing in parallel without any top-down ordering has not yet been discovered. Given Rousseau’s oft-stated preference for the ancient model of politics in which opinion was never “mere opinion,” it is no surprise that he believes women, through opinion, are in fact able to exert authoritative influence over men in a way that empowers them to contribute to a general will.15

But how, specifically, would Rousseauian religion support a woman’s rule of a man? A comparison of Emile’s religion, as spelled out in the Profession of Faith of the Savoyard Vicar, and Sophie’s belief system, as outlined at the beginning of Book V of Emile, bears out the following: although the two kinds of religiosity are similar on many levels, the principle of Sophie’s is the primacy of practice, which is illustrated by freedom from metaphysical abstractions. That of Emile, on the other hand, is freedom from limitation by particulars, which, after consideration of past systems of religion, allows for the consideration of new ones (recall the Savoyard’s comparison of Christianity and Islam, as well as the logic employed to get to his position) (E 260, 303–4). How, specifically, can Sophie’s religion stand up to that of Emile? Indeed, the evidence for the man’s metaphysical or speculative take on religion is not lacking.

Writes Rousseau,

“It is especially in matters of religion that opinion triumphs. But we who pretend to shake off the yoke of opinion in everything [italics mine], we who want to grant nothing to authority, we who want to teach nothing to our Emile which he could not learn by himself in every country, in what religion shall we raise him? To what sect shall we join the man of nature? The answer is quite simple, it seems to me. We shall join him to neither this one nor that one, but we shall put him in a position to choose the one to which the best use of his reason ought to lead him”

(E 260).

In the Profession of Faith of the Savoyard Vicar, the Vicar who instructs Rousseau in his own deist faith finds himself “in that frame of mind of uncertainty and doubt that Descartes demands for the quest for truth” (E 267). Step by step, from matter to extension, intelligence, power and will, the Vicar deduces the existence of a Being “which wills and is powerful,” which is “active in itself”, which “moves the universe and orders all things”, and which he calls God (E 277). The Vicar locates himself in the order of things, finding that he has freedom of the will and an immortal soul, and that God is the author of all justice, which has always and everywhere been the same (E 284, 288). The principle of abstract reasoning is definitely here. Sophie’s religious instruction is distinct from Emile’s. The Profession of Faith of the Savoyard Vicar is addressed to Rousseau, and through Rousseau, at least partially to Emile. It is not addressed to Sophie. This is important because it does not appear that Rousseau or the Vicar intend for women to think metaphysically or deductively in the way that Emile is encouraged to do. In terms of religious instruction that is appropriate for a young girl, Rousseau writes:

“God is a spirit! And what is a spirit? Will I launch the mind of a child into this obscure metaphysics from which men have such trouble extricating themselves? It is not for a little girl to resolve these questions. At most, she can pose them. Then I would simply answer her, ‘You ask me what God is? It is not easy to say. God can neither be heard nor seen, nor touched. He is known only by His works. To judge what He is, wait until you know what He has done’”

(E 344).

The instruction above is not metaphysical or abstract. It is eminently practical. This is further confirmed by the guidelines that Rousseau outlines for mothers who will instruct their daughters in religion. “If you are teaching religion to young girls,” Rousseau instructs the mother, “never make it a task or duty. Consequently, never make them learn anything relating to it by heart, not even prayers. Be content to say yours in their presence without forcing them to be there [italics mine]. Make your prayers short, according to the teaching of Jesus Christ” (E 378). The mother transmits the teaching of Christ indirectly. Rousseau says that the little girl’s education is to begin early, unlike that of Emile, who is introduced to religion only in adolescence. And, again, the religious education in question is a practical one.

This is further confirmed by the outline for Sophie’s religious education, which comes at the beginning of Book V. Rousseau describes the catechesis appropriate to women in general. “Therefore,” writes Rousseau, “neglect all these mysterious dogmas which are only words without ideas for us—all these bizarre doctrines whose vain study takes the place of virtues in those who indulge in it and serves to make them mad rather than good” (E 381).

The downside is that Sophie appears to be trapped in structures of authority. Writes Rousseau, “Since authority ought to rule the religion of women [italics mine], the issue is not so much explaining to them the reasons there are for believing as of explaining distinctly what we believe …” (E 377–378). Rousseau continues to explain that every woman should have her husband’s religion. “If this religion is false, the docility which subjects mother and daughter to the order of nature erases from God’s sight the sin of this error. Since women are not in a position to be judges themselves, they ought to receive the decision of fathers and husbands like that of the Church” (E 377).

However, given the different types of religion Rousseau outlines for men and women, the question with respect to who is actually ruling whom quickly arises. If men rule through metaphysics and abstraction but women must translate principles into practice, does not the power of translation allow women over time to change or practically rewrite the principles themselves? Recent work in hermeneutics suggests that it does. Far from viewing the translator as a passive transcriber of one set of symbols into another, recent engagement with Gadamer in particular stresses the active task of the translator. A fusion of horizons takes place which further indicates the creativity of the translating subject. This does not imply unlimited freedom of translation, but again it does locate in the translator an agency which in this instance increases the power of women (Yan 2012; Piecychna 2012; Buhler 1992).

Indeed, this suggestion is supported by Rousseau’s conflation of the religious education appropriate to young girls with that appropriate to young children in general. This is especially apparent in Rousseau’s presentation of the catechism appropriate to a little girl. Rousseau actually goes back and forth between saying that it is meant for a little girl vs. for a young child in general.16 It seems that Rousseau is deliberately blurring the lines. Indeed, a quick perusal might, in fact, give the impression that Sophie’s religious education recaps that of Emile in Book IV.

Nevertheless, it becomes apparent that the anti-metaphysical religious education in Rousseau’s estimation is especially appropriate for young girls. And later, Rousseau writes, moving in the direction of universality, “A rule prior to opinion exists for the whole [italics mine] human species. It is to the inflexible direction of this rule that all the others ought to be related. This rule judges prejudice itself … this rule is the inner sentiment” (E 382). Therefore, what starts to become clear is that in discussion of the religious education appropriate for a young girl, Rousseau actually moves to outline an anti-metaphysical religious program appropriate for the whole of humankind. Young girls are primary in the reception of an anti-metaphysical education; in this way, they stand in for the anti-metaphysical education of all and are in a real sense the vanguard of the change in consciousness that will be necessary for the anti-metaphysical turn to become effective.

In his description of the catechism for a little girl/child, Rousseau unites the perspectives of the citizen and the man, the perspectives of On the Social Contract and the Profession of Faith. The Vicar himself, in the description of the religious journey that he undertook, finds that reasoning about all things is exhausting. “Oh my child! May you one day sense what a weight one is relieved of when, after having exhausted the vanity of human opinions … one finally finds so near to oneself the road of wisdom, the reward of this life’s labors, and the source of the happiness of which one has despaired” (E 292). And his skepticism of all things finally extends to reason itself, leading him to embrace not reason but the inner light alone (E 269). The Vicar becomes authoritative, in other words, by turning from the authority of metaphysics and abstract reason. A consideration of not only the Vicar’s natural but also of his specifically Christian religion reveals the same lack of authority.17 But this is to say that he ultimately recognized a different domain as authoritative—that of practice, in which human beings are guided by an inner light. But this is already the domain in which Rousseau gives women the edge.

Put straightforwardly, the woman rules the man through that most Christian of virtues which Rousseau nevertheless redirects: charity. She rules him through the example of charity, which is manifested in actions and deeds. Charitable actions and deeds, we might say, constitute the effectual truth of the more speculative sentiment and reason characteristic of man. Providing such an example is indirect rule because there is no coercion; there is only the feeling induced that the spectator should follow suit.

For Machiavelli, whom Rousseau considered to be a good republican—and to whom at least one recent influential article has argued that Rousseau looked, specifically in an analysis of the dynamics of family life (Saccarelli 2009), the effectual truth ruled (was stronger than) the speculative truth. It worked from behind the scenes. In this way, the compassionate woman rules the authoritative man from behind the scenes by “keeping him grounded,” constantly showing him flesh and blood instantiations of the principles he preaches. Her ruling from behind the scenes is a testimony to her translating power. There are several examples of a woman’s non-religious rule over a man that one could give as well.18 The upshot, however, and especially through the connection to a religion of charitable praxis, is the possibility of actual rule of women over men. To be clear, in innovating techniques of indirect rule, Machiavelli is not openly endorsing the ideal of homo faber, although connections between the two may be worth exploring (Arendt 1998).

One might object that despite the above, it is not clear, exactly, how lived examples of charity on the part of women amount to a technique of rule of men. Perhaps it is not even examples of Sophie’s own charitable activity, but rather Emile’s own desire to be worthy of her, that motivates the generous steps he takes? Is it possible that the primary motivating factor is not charity, but simply the education Emile and Sophie have received? And what is the specific mechanism by which charity contributes to rule in the public square? However, it is clear that “Emile does seem subject to Sophie’s judgment.” Emile’s charitable reasons for canceling the appointment with Sophie, after seeing distressed travelers broken down, are ones she ultimately validates—this as Emile openly acknowledges her power over him. Emile moves to help farmers after speaking with and considering the example of Sophie. Emile is trying to be worthy of Sophie in these situations, yes, but this involves subjection to a woman who embodies charity (so what is involved is not mere influence—in keeping with the analysis of authoritative opinion through which rule can occur, it is Sophie’s power over the opinion of Emile that leads him to act).

Analogously, separating the influence of education from the examples of Sophie’s lived charity does not make sense to me. Emile and Sophie are both, in the overlapping yet distinct modes discussed in this article, educated towards charitable relations with fellow human beings. Yet, for Emile, this education is actualized through the courtship of and marriage to Sophie. Whether the education would work without subjection on Emile’s part to Sophie’s judgment is a matter of speculation, and Rousseau clearly chooses to present both of them together.

Finally, with respect to how charity as discussed prepares for rule in the public square, it is important to emphasize that for Rousseau, in fact, participation in the general will is different from rule—citizens are autonomous and to the extent that everyone is willing what the general will requires, equally, no one is “above” anyone else.19 That said, and as discussed in the previous section, constituting citizens who are able to will generally is no easy task—and this is where actual rule in private, before one is ready to participate in politics, is so important. What I mean is: Being ruled through charity empowers one to start to will generally. This is because charity itself is general, removing one from particular concerns to those that are more universal. At issue, of course, is not traditional Christian charity as described by Augustine or Aquinas that orders its practitioner towards transcendent goods even as it orients them within and towards community. Rather, charity as understood by Rousseau is to a greater extent immanent (and not informed by metaphysics). It is humanitarian, building on the compassion and pity that according to Rousseau characterizes man in an early state of nature (Rousseau 2011b, pp. 63–64). Although she draws very different conclusions from the one I do, Eileen Hunt Botting has recently confirmed what I take to be this structural feature of Rousseau’s work, namely, that the private sphere is a training ground for participation in politics (and in fact she finds this idea not just in Rousseau, but in Edmund Burke and Mary Wollstonecraft) (Botting 2007).

5. Matriarchy in Multiple States of Nature

For one thing, Rousseau makes clear that initially—in the most original of the states of nature—there is no dependence of women on men. This has been picked up by Susan Okin (Okin 1979, pp. 396–97), who points out that Rousseau offers no real explanation for the sudden change to dependence on men (Ibid., pp. 398–99). In The Sexual Politics of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Joel Schwarz argues for an equality between men and women according to which each sex rules and is ruled in turn in an Aristotelian manner (Schwartz 1984). But the below passages suggest to me not an alternation in rule, but rather the consistent rule by women of men. As the arts and sciences progress, the rule is diverted, so that women rule indirectly; however, to repeat, given that Machiavelli shows that all rule has been diverted in modernity so that the effectual rule is one that is indirect, it does not follow that women are not actually ruling. The all-important passage demonstrating Rousseau’s view of an ancient domination of men by women occurs at the beginning of Book V of Emile, which is devoted to the differences between men and women, the education befitting a young girl, and relations between Emile and Sophie. I will quote the passages in full, despite their length.

Before doing so, let me acknowledge that this part of my article, like the others, is counterintuitive and contests longstanding and accepted views of the Rousseauian state of nature. Admittedly, in disagreeing with Hobbes on that state, Rousseau presents a picture of complete independence between the sexes. It is reinforced by the fact that women can handle childbearing and childhood education on their own without needing a man’s protection. To the extent that there is normativity in Rousseau’s state of nature, then, or to the extent that relations among these “human beings” point to the normativity that the general will later reflects, it is indeed a morality of autonomy and independence in which no one rules another (Rousseau 2011b). That said, the picture clearly changes, and Rousseau introduces the reader of the Second Discourse to the next state of nature. Here the creatures who inhabit it have acquired more recognizably human characteristics. Love and jealousy emerge, meaning that women achieve a measure of disproportionate influence over men. But with a rudimentary division of labor in place, with females more likely to engage in gathering or stay home as males hunt outside it, men also attain a degree of power over women (Ibid., pp. 68, 71–74). As the earliest state of nature becomes the next, still pre-metallurgy and pre-agriculture, a rough parity of control between the sexes thus appears to stay intact, this now despite the real appearance of patriarchy.

Why do I say that it is only the appearance of patriarchy, when Susan Okin already sees in this “second state of nature,” characterized by beads and ornamentation and dancing around trees, a degradation of the female sex (Okin 1979)? I characterize it this way in light of a third state of nature that Rousseau describes. To be clear, I do not mean by this the third state of nature as Okin identifies—with reference made to the stage at which humankind discovers metallurgy and agriculture (Ibid., p. 398). Rather, I have in mind statements Rousseau makes about a dynamic between women and men that is ancient and longstanding. Given that it is not clear when it becomes operative, a more accurate reference may be not to a distinct state of nature, but a condition that underlies the multiple and different natural states as they unfold. What is clear, for Rousseau, is that it co-exists with the appearance and form of patriarchy.

Writes Rousseau,

“If woman is made to please and to be subjugated, she ought to make herself agreeable to man instead of arousing him. Her own violence [italics mine] is in her charms. It is by these that she ought to constrain [italics mine] him to find his strength and make use of it. The surest art for animating that strength is to make it necessary by resistance. Then amour-propre unites with desire, and the one triumphs in the victory that the other has made [italics mine] him win. From this there arises attack and defense, the audacity of one sex and the timidity of the other, and finally the modesty and the shame with which nature has armed the weak in order to enslave the strong [italics mine]”

(E 358).

It is worth pausing to consider the specific words Rousseau uses. The charms of a woman are not harmless—there is violence in them. Using that violence, the woman constrains man, but specifically, she constrains him to find strength he did not know he had and to “make use of it.” The implication is that the man uses the strength for ends dictated, even if silently, by the woman. In the sentence on amour propre uniting with desire, Rousseau continues with the vocabulary of violence and constraint: the man may win the victory, but it is the woman who has “made” him win it. The last sentence takes his line of thought to an extreme. Nature has “armed” women with modesty and shame, the better that they may “enslave” the opposite sex.

This passage does not make clear the state of nature to which Rousseau refers (or whether at issue is an underlying reality that runs through multiple states of nature), but the generality of the statement makes the quality of will-to-dominate sound perennial. It is also not clear whether the impulse with which nature has “armed” women allows them to succeed in subduing men. Nevertheless, and in Emile of all places, there is no doubt that Rousseau sees a natural impulse of women to dominate men. And one who is enslaved as Rousseau describes it does not experience subjugation alternating with periods of rule. This is domination, simply.

This is reinforced by a passage a few pages later in Emile, which is more explicit and shows his enduring belief that the matriarchal reality runs deep:

“Women possess their empire not because men wanted it that way, but because nature wants it that way. It belonged to women before they appeared to have it. The same Hercules who believed he raped the fifty daughters of Thespitius was nevertheless constrained to weave while he was with Omphale; and the strong Samson was not so strong as Delilah. This empire belongs to women and cannot be taken from them, even when they abuse it. It they could ever lose it, they would have done so long ago [italics mine].”

(E 360–61).

Once again, at issue is not ruling in turns. Once again, in writing that “this empire belong to women and cannot be taken” away, Rousseau makes a general statement that makes the female will-to-dominate sound perennial.

Finally, most explicit is a footnote (Note 7) in the First Discourse on the Sciences and Arts, in which Rousseau speaks without qualification, which is even more compelling:

“I am a long way from thinking that this ascendancy of women is something bad in itself. It is a gift given to them by nature for the happiness of the human race. Were it better directed, it could produce as much good as it does evil nowadays. We do not have a sufficient sense of what advantages would arise in society from a better education provided for the half of the human race which governs the other half [italics mine]. Men will always [italics mine] do what women find pleasing. Hence, if you wish men to become great and virtuous, then teach women what greatness in the soul and virtue are. The reflections which arise from this subject, something Plato dealt with long ago, really deserve to be better developed by a pen worthy of following such a master and of defending such a great cause”

(Rousseau 2011c).

I have italicized the words in the above passage that make it clear that the dynamic involved goes back a long time, even if it does not reach the original state of nature where men and women are not recognizably human—“governs” as opposed to “has governed since”; “Men will always do” as opposed to “Men have done what women find pleasing since”. It is not clear in which state of nature this dynamic appeared; it is evidently a condition that underlies or runs through multiple natural states.

The context in the First Discourse is that with the progress of the arts and sciences women have come to rule men despite the appearance of a patriarchy. Rousseau takes the opportunity to point towards a more wholesome, and more permanent, rule of women over men, which requires education. The observation is fully consistent with his own comments on and suggestions about a primal matriarchy in Emile as well as the Second Discourse on Inequality. In all three of these texts, we thus see the original rule, simply and not in turns, of men by women. We see here Rousseau’s enduring belief that the matriarchal nature of human relations is in a sense primeval, and that it can be altered or redirected but that it has never been abolished.

However, for the strongest confirmation that what is involved is a primordial tendency, which requires the intervention of philosophy itself not to lead to a tyranny of women over men, let us go back to Emile:

“Who could think that nature has indiscriminately prescribed the same advances to both men and women, and that the first to form desires should also be the first to show them? What a strange depravity of judgment! Since the undertaking has such different consequences for the two sexes, is it natural that they should have the same audacity in abandoning themselves to it?”

(E 358).

“The first to form desires,” Rousseau will explain, is woman. “The undertaking” to which he refers is of course pregnancy—intercourse has “different consequences for the two sexes” because a man can escape the consequences of pregnancy, abandoning a woman to carry to term a child on her own. Precisely because her desires are first to form and the attendant risks of pregnancy are so high, a woman needs modesty to ensure that the one who wins her over will really be a suitable mate. This is clear in the second half of the paragraph, where Rousseau also explains the political implications of a situation in which men and women were not restrained from having sex without inhibition:

“With so great an inequality in what each risks in the union, how can one fail to see that if reserve did not impose on one sex the moderation which nature imposes on the other, the result would soon be the ruin of both, and mankind would perish by the means established for preserving it? If there were some unfortunate region on earth where philosophy had introduced this practice … men would be tyrannized by women [italics mine].”20

To be clear, “the result” refers to the situation that Rousseau believes would prevail if both men and women were not somewhat sexually inhibited. Reserve is imposed on the man; moderation is said to be imposed by nature on the woman.

But who or what actually imposes reserve on the man? In the last quoted sentence, we see that nature is not the only “agent” capable of imparting qualities of the soul (like moderation)—philosophy is also able to “introduce practice.” The suggestion is that both nature and philosophy can predispose or impose different roles for the sexes; perhaps it was the wisdom embodied in a Legislator of the kind described in On the Social Contract that was necessary to impose reserve on men.

Without it, given Rousseau’s belief that nature has outfitted women with the tools to enslave the strong (men), the Genevan makes clear that the situation of outright female domination is not merely a hypothetical relevant to “some unfortunate region of the earth” (E 359). It is a real possibility, one to which we remain close in “hot countries.”21

Furthermore, if the suggestion is that Rousseau is hyperbolic in making the statement, the same sentiment is expressed in the Letter Dedicatory of the Second Discourse, referred to sometimes as the Discourse on Inequality. Writes Rousseau, again using the language of perennial condition or dynamic:

“Could I forget the precious half of the commonwealth which assures the happiness of the other, and whose sweetness and prudence maintain its peace and good morals? Lovable and virtuous women of Geneva—the destiny of your sex will always be to govern ours. Happy are we so long as your chaste power, exerted solely within the marriage bond, makes itself felt only for the glory of the state and the wellbeing of the public! It was thus that the women commanded at Sparta, and thus that you deserve to command in Geneva … It is for you, by your … dominion and by your subtle influence, to perpetuate love of the laws within the state and concord among citizens.”22

The multiple contexts in which Rousseau communicates the same idea decrease the likelihood that the writing is meant only for rhetorical effect.

As discussed, Rousseau allows for several different states of nature. Although the earliest one shows men and women in complete autonomy from each other, I also point out that Rousseau speaks in general terms about an actual and indirect empire that females have possessed over males. It is hard to pinpoint exactly when this dynamic of female empire could have emerged.

Anthropology, however, may provide evidence that at some point it did. Although this evidence needs to be explored further, tentative support seems to exist for the Rousseauian claim of early and indirect rule of women over men. What was the mechanism? As it turns out, control of the food supply and mating dynamics.

6. Conclusions

This article has investigated the relations between men and women in Rousseau’s major works to uncover what has gone largely undetected in the literature to date. I embarked on a rereading of Rousseau’s writings to argue that, contrary to contemporary receptions of Rousseau’s arguments on gender and sexuality, his thought can actually be taken to support matriarchy. I showed how the philosopher affirms instances in which women dominate men by getting men to will on their own what women desire. More specifically, I showed how in Rousseau, women concretize men’s pronouncements of abstract religious principles, in effect at times changing those principles. I suggested that Rousseau understood women to rule men indirectly—a concept reinforced, in our era, by discussions of the projection of soft power in politics. And I further substantiated this argument, with the help of hermeneutic literature on translation, by turning to Rousseau’s depictions of Sophie in Emile and Julie in La Nouvelle Héloïse.

First, I provided examples of Sophie’s rule of Emile in Emile. The examples in the book are easy to miss but unmistakable. Sophie rules Emile especially through acts of charity that incline Emile to participate in the project that Sophie has undertaken. The Tutor takes note of these as well and does not discourage them.

Second, I showed that Julie at Clarens also rules a number of the men there and particularly in the administration of the estate. Interestingly, like Sophie, her power is communicated through concrete examples of charitable action. Rousseau writes that, as a result, those around her are imbued with the spirit to contribute to the projects of importance to her. Julie, even more than Sophie, relies on hiddenness or indirectness as a technique of rule.

The examples of Sophie and Julie ruling men take us into territory of the sexes alternating in rule. Interestingly, two women as different as Sophie and Julie rule men in the same way. Namely, the rule they exercise takes place through concrete examples of charity. Once performed, the acts of charity in question incline the men who witness them to join in the projects that Sophie and Julie seek to advance.

Third, I supported with evidence the case that the power Julie and Sophie have over men derives from religious education. The religious education received by both sexes is anti-metaphysical, but this is far more true for women than men. The fact that the former in Rousseau’s works rule in a manner that is connected to religion but that is especially anti-metaphysical, and that is also indirect, is the datum that suggests that for Rousseau the rule of women goes deeper and represents a relation more consistent with modernity than the rule of men over women.

Indeed, the suggestion is confirmed through an analysis of Rousseau’s states of nature. The one that is most remote does suggest that women and men were independent. That a shift towards formal patriarchy or a substantive appearance thereof occurs in one of the states of nature, even before the discovery of metallurgy and agriculture—and that it continues with the progress of civilization, is not, in Rousseau’s understanding, a normative argument in favor of patriarchy or evidence that it exists as the deepest substratum of human relations. The fact that I say “formal” patriarchy is also not meant to minimize questions of justice that are involved. Even an appearance can inflict real pain and cry out for change. However, “formal” has to do with the fact that underlying the form of patriarchy is a matriarchal reality that can be channeled towards greater or lesser political moderation, but that Rousseau gives little indication could actually be changed.

I concluded by pointing to tentative evidence from a hunter-gatherer society that may give us a glimpse into an earlier state of nature and support the possibility of indirect or “soft-powered” female rule.

Whether Rousseau, today, would support an open and direct form of women straightforwardly dominating men is a tantalizing question. Certainly, in the passage from Emile cited, Rousseau does not conceal his view that absent philosophic support for reserve on the part of men, to reinforce what is presented in the passage as the natural modesty of women, a female tyranny would ensue. That said, Rousseau also admits through the focus on perfectibility and the discussion of the Legislator that human nature changes and evolves. Indeed, a Legislator in Rousseau’s characterization is said to almost give human beings a new nature. It is not inconceivable, given a historically significant moment, that a Legislator or authoritative body would hand down laws in a way that reconstitutes citizens to the point where the direct rule of women is possible and beneficial.

Whatever the best reading of Rousseau on these and other questions, a reevaluation of relations between the sexes in Rousseau’s work is overdue. At a time when these relations are in the process of reconsideration and reconstruction, it is worth asking whether someone traditionally associated with rigid roles for the sexes did not also write in a context, which, when taken into account, indicates that he favored other possibilities. To the extent that important women in his works rule men indirectly and translate metaphysics into practice, it may be argued that Rousseau is open to their acquiring far more power over time. Women are more representative of indirect rule than men, and it may be that Rousseau embraces far more than he lets on the modern conditions under which it becomes possible.