This approach to sovereignity and the simultaneous ability to impose law, but also be subject to it, creates coherence that modern liberal rule often overlooks, where invocation of the sovereignty of the nation creates an exception for rule that is often not subject to laws it creates.
This moral gap and absolutism of modern political systems ends up creating far less freedom than people perceive to have.
I found this article surprisingly... moving. The realm of political and constitutional theory can be very high-level and abstracted. It's beautiful and rational in its own way, but often lacking in poetry and theological imagery.
The image of Mary as sovereign, giving her fiat freely in submission to the Divine Word, prefiguring Christ who himself freely submits to a position lower than his nature requires, and this being the example of excellence, the requirement for a just ruler, is at once so obvious and powerful that it feels like it's something I've known forever. It's a beautiful image for a complicated question. It has more explanatory power in its imagery than it does in words. It feels like something that we can chew on for centuries.
One observation: It seems that in all three cases, the sovereign is freely binding to something which is not strictly required. Christ bind's himself to the Divine Will to take on human nature (and further, to the Mosaic Law). Mary binds herself to the Word of God to bear a son (and further, to the Mosaic Law). And the prince binds himself in a legal sense to the Divine and natural law (and further, to civil law).
Surely the prince is always bound to divine and natural law (just as Mary), but not in a legal sense -- as sovereign, there are none to hold him to account, no apparatus of state above him; he is immune. And further, it seems there may be some parallel between what the Mosaic Law was for Christ and Mary to what the civil law is for a prince. Something additional that they choose to be bound to, though they are in no real way required to be, for that law is purely for the subjects, not the sovereigns.
Super interesting, thanks much — I love the idea of looking at these issues from a literary perspective. On the sovereignty point you make, please see the footnote on the vis directiva and vis coactiva of the law — the prince is bound to the law in the first sense, but not in the second; the prince judges but cannot be judged (for example, cannot be judged by any court), but this does not mean the law does not bind him. I should perhaps have put this in text; my excuse is that I wrote a separate piece about it, which is linked in the footnote. Cheers!
Sir, what a nice surprise to find a photo of the stained glass windows at the Keizersberg abbey in my town Leuven. Thanks also for the fine essay. Mark Geleyn
If the fiat of the prince (and therefore the status of a prince) consists in his submission to the moral law, then any violation of the moral law necessarily invalidates both the fiat and the status of the prince. As such, no ‘nominal’ prince has a prima facie fiat or authority as this would entail a moral contradiction, but merely the divine authority to do what is objectively right, which everyone has (trivially), and no authority to do what is objective wrong, which everyone lacks. It farther follows that anyone who does what is morally right is, for purposes of that action, a prince, and any nominal ‘prince’ who does what is morally wrong is, for purposes of that action, not a prince (under the authority of God).
The timeless question at the core of the concept of divine authority is the precise nature of the moral law, and of proper interpretation of the law, and then of the knowledge of the law insofar as it may be asserted, which is already subject to Logos (the rules of meaning/sense). The rules of sense dictate, provably, that to assert as moral law anything that one does not know with certainty to be the sense of the moral law, because one cannot prove it, entails a contradiction, therefore non-sense, contrary to Logos, without divine authority. Since any human prince who wields merely political power, by stipulating and mandating what the divine law dictates without having the capacity to prove it, invalidates the prince’s moral and political authority. Every prince or ruler claiming to have a divine fiat is an impostor.
The article “The Fiat of the Prince” presents a vision of political authority deeply rooted in theological tradition, proposing that the legitimacy of governance derives from its alignment with divine and natural law. The central analogy—the prince’s fiat mirroring the Blessed Virgin’s fiat—suggests that the just ruler does not command arbitrarily but submits his authority to a higher order, just as Mary submitted herself to the divine will. This conception stands in stark contrast to modern notions of sovereignty that rest upon the will of the ruler or the consent of the governed alone, positioning instead a transcendent standard as the measure of political justice.
This argument implicitly critiques legal positivism, which severs law from any moral or metaphysical foundation, reducing it to a mere construct of human authority. By contrast, the article advances a vision in which the exercise of power is only legitimate when it conforms to preexisting moral truths. Such an idea finds resonance in classical and medieval jurisprudence, particularly in the Thomistic tradition, which holds that human law is just insofar as it participates in the eternal law. A prince who rules without reference to this higher order risks transforming his commands into acts of sheer will rather than instruments of justice.
However, while the argument rightly underscores the necessity of anchoring political authority in objective moral principles, it does not fully account for the historical complexities of governance. The relationship between divine law and human institutions has never been one of simple correspondence but of prudential adaptation. Even within the scholastic tradition, there was recognition that political rule, while ultimately accountable to divine justice, must navigate the practical realities of human society. The invocation of the Marian fiat, while rhetorically powerful, does not adequately grapple with the contingencies and constraints that shape political decision-making.
Moreover, the article appears to assume an inherent harmony between divine law and the concrete exercise of power, without sufficiently addressing the perennial tension between authority and liberty. The question remains whether a ruler’s submission to divine law necessarily leads to just governance in practice, or whether such submission can, in certain instances, be misinterpreted or weaponized to justify authoritarian rule. History provides ample examples of rulers who have claimed divine sanction while enacting policies that deviate from genuine moral order, raising the issue of who discerns and interprets the higher law to which the prince is to be held accountable.
Ultimately, while the piece offers a compelling theological framework for understanding political legitimacy, it would benefit from a more rigorous engagement with the complexities of applying these principles in practice. The analogy to the Marian fiat is evocative but insufficient as a complete theory of governance, which must also reckon with the human frailties and institutional structures that mediate the relationship between divine justice and earthly rule. Without such considerations, the vision presented risks becoming an idealized abstraction rather than a practicable guide for just political order.
I don’t recall stating any ambition to offer “a complete theory of governance” - in a sub stack post?! Of course regnative prudence matters. But one first has to get the conceptual foundations right.
You’re absolutely right—I may have been clearer than necessary for a Substack post. I certainly didn’t mean to suggest you were offering a complete theory of governance there. That said, I’ve been following your work with great interest, and I fully appreciate the importance of getting the conceptual foundations right before anything else.
This approach to sovereignity and the simultaneous ability to impose law, but also be subject to it, creates coherence that modern liberal rule often overlooks, where invocation of the sovereignty of the nation creates an exception for rule that is often not subject to laws it creates.
This moral gap and absolutism of modern political systems ends up creating far less freedom than people perceive to have.
I found this article surprisingly... moving. The realm of political and constitutional theory can be very high-level and abstracted. It's beautiful and rational in its own way, but often lacking in poetry and theological imagery.
The image of Mary as sovereign, giving her fiat freely in submission to the Divine Word, prefiguring Christ who himself freely submits to a position lower than his nature requires, and this being the example of excellence, the requirement for a just ruler, is at once so obvious and powerful that it feels like it's something I've known forever. It's a beautiful image for a complicated question. It has more explanatory power in its imagery than it does in words. It feels like something that we can chew on for centuries.
One observation: It seems that in all three cases, the sovereign is freely binding to something which is not strictly required. Christ bind's himself to the Divine Will to take on human nature (and further, to the Mosaic Law). Mary binds herself to the Word of God to bear a son (and further, to the Mosaic Law). And the prince binds himself in a legal sense to the Divine and natural law (and further, to civil law).
Surely the prince is always bound to divine and natural law (just as Mary), but not in a legal sense -- as sovereign, there are none to hold him to account, no apparatus of state above him; he is immune. And further, it seems there may be some parallel between what the Mosaic Law was for Christ and Mary to what the civil law is for a prince. Something additional that they choose to be bound to, though they are in no real way required to be, for that law is purely for the subjects, not the sovereigns.
Super interesting, thanks much — I love the idea of looking at these issues from a literary perspective. On the sovereignty point you make, please see the footnote on the vis directiva and vis coactiva of the law — the prince is bound to the law in the first sense, but not in the second; the prince judges but cannot be judged (for example, cannot be judged by any court), but this does not mean the law does not bind him. I should perhaps have put this in text; my excuse is that I wrote a separate piece about it, which is linked in the footnote. Cheers!
Sir, what a nice surprise to find a photo of the stained glass windows at the Keizersberg abbey in my town Leuven. Thanks also for the fine essay. Mark Geleyn
Thanks to you! A lovely place, Leuven, and what a gorgeous abbey.
If the fiat of the prince (and therefore the status of a prince) consists in his submission to the moral law, then any violation of the moral law necessarily invalidates both the fiat and the status of the prince. As such, no ‘nominal’ prince has a prima facie fiat or authority as this would entail a moral contradiction, but merely the divine authority to do what is objectively right, which everyone has (trivially), and no authority to do what is objective wrong, which everyone lacks. It farther follows that anyone who does what is morally right is, for purposes of that action, a prince, and any nominal ‘prince’ who does what is morally wrong is, for purposes of that action, not a prince (under the authority of God).
The timeless question at the core of the concept of divine authority is the precise nature of the moral law, and of proper interpretation of the law, and then of the knowledge of the law insofar as it may be asserted, which is already subject to Logos (the rules of meaning/sense). The rules of sense dictate, provably, that to assert as moral law anything that one does not know with certainty to be the sense of the moral law, because one cannot prove it, entails a contradiction, therefore non-sense, contrary to Logos, without divine authority. Since any human prince who wields merely political power, by stipulating and mandating what the divine law dictates without having the capacity to prove it, invalidates the prince’s moral and political authority. Every prince or ruler claiming to have a divine fiat is an impostor.
The article “The Fiat of the Prince” presents a vision of political authority deeply rooted in theological tradition, proposing that the legitimacy of governance derives from its alignment with divine and natural law. The central analogy—the prince’s fiat mirroring the Blessed Virgin’s fiat—suggests that the just ruler does not command arbitrarily but submits his authority to a higher order, just as Mary submitted herself to the divine will. This conception stands in stark contrast to modern notions of sovereignty that rest upon the will of the ruler or the consent of the governed alone, positioning instead a transcendent standard as the measure of political justice.
This argument implicitly critiques legal positivism, which severs law from any moral or metaphysical foundation, reducing it to a mere construct of human authority. By contrast, the article advances a vision in which the exercise of power is only legitimate when it conforms to preexisting moral truths. Such an idea finds resonance in classical and medieval jurisprudence, particularly in the Thomistic tradition, which holds that human law is just insofar as it participates in the eternal law. A prince who rules without reference to this higher order risks transforming his commands into acts of sheer will rather than instruments of justice.
However, while the argument rightly underscores the necessity of anchoring political authority in objective moral principles, it does not fully account for the historical complexities of governance. The relationship between divine law and human institutions has never been one of simple correspondence but of prudential adaptation. Even within the scholastic tradition, there was recognition that political rule, while ultimately accountable to divine justice, must navigate the practical realities of human society. The invocation of the Marian fiat, while rhetorically powerful, does not adequately grapple with the contingencies and constraints that shape political decision-making.
Moreover, the article appears to assume an inherent harmony between divine law and the concrete exercise of power, without sufficiently addressing the perennial tension between authority and liberty. The question remains whether a ruler’s submission to divine law necessarily leads to just governance in practice, or whether such submission can, in certain instances, be misinterpreted or weaponized to justify authoritarian rule. History provides ample examples of rulers who have claimed divine sanction while enacting policies that deviate from genuine moral order, raising the issue of who discerns and interprets the higher law to which the prince is to be held accountable.
Ultimately, while the piece offers a compelling theological framework for understanding political legitimacy, it would benefit from a more rigorous engagement with the complexities of applying these principles in practice. The analogy to the Marian fiat is evocative but insufficient as a complete theory of governance, which must also reckon with the human frailties and institutional structures that mediate the relationship between divine justice and earthly rule. Without such considerations, the vision presented risks becoming an idealized abstraction rather than a practicable guide for just political order.
I don’t recall stating any ambition to offer “a complete theory of governance” - in a sub stack post?! Of course regnative prudence matters. But one first has to get the conceptual foundations right.
You’re absolutely right—I may have been clearer than necessary for a Substack post. I certainly didn’t mean to suggest you were offering a complete theory of governance there. That said, I’ve been following your work with great interest, and I fully appreciate the importance of getting the conceptual foundations right before anything else.