Bentham and Mill and probably most utilitarians (though Sidgwick is in part an exception) have a good deal in common with Hobbes and Spinoza as moral thinkers. For they share a commitment to deriving ethics from the actual and normal motivitations of human beings as creatures of the natural world rather than, like Kant and many religious moralists, from some transcendent realm to the requirements of which natural man has a duty to submit without expecting any help therefrom in the satisfaction of his natural inclinations. In the present context I shall call all such thinkers ethical naturalists, though I do not mean this expression in any very precise technical sense, only to indicate a commitment to somehow deriving morality from natural fact.

The full range of Bentham's engagement with Blackstone's view of law is beyond the scope of a single article. Yet it is important to recognize at the outset, even in a more restricted enquiry into the matter, that the engagement, begun when Bentham, not quite sixteen years of age, started to attend Blackstone's Oxford lectures (from which the Commentaries on the Laws of England emerged in the first edition of 1765–9), was indeed a lifelong affair. Whatever Bentham had in mind when, at the age of eighty, in 1828, he began to write a work entitled ‘A familar view of Blackstone: or say Blackstone familiarized’, the manuscripts at least suffice to prove that ‘Our Author’ was still in the forefront of his mind at that octogenarian but still indefatigably active stage of his career. Every aspect of Bentham's multifarious intellectual activity over the intervening decades had been touched in some measure by his response to Blackstone's ideas. It still seems true to say what was said a dozen years ago:

It would be an exaggeration to say that Bentham elaborated his own conception of law by way of a constant and conscious dialectic with the views of Blackstone. But it would be an exaggeration for which the evidence would afford some excuse.

Bentham belongs to a long tradition of reflection on law according to which the nature of law can best be understood in terms of its distinctive contribution to the solution of certain deep and pervasive problems of collective action or collective rationality. I propose to take a critical look at Bentham's unique and penetrating contribution to this tradition. For this purpose I will rely on the interpretation of the main lines of Bentham's jurisprudence and its philosophical motivations which I have developed in Bentham and the Common Law Tradition. will not attempt further to defend it here. I wish, rather, to reflect on themes and arguments which this interpretation of Bentham's jurisprudence has uncovered.

Between 1787, and the end of his life in 1832, Bentham turned his attention to the development and application of economic ideas and principles within the general structure of his legislative project. For seventeen years this interest was manifested through a number of books and pamphlets, most of which remained in manuscript form, that develop a distinctive approach to economic questions. Although Bentham was influenced by Adam Smith's An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, he neither adopted a Smithian vocabulary for addressing questions of economic principle and policy, nor did he accept many of the distinctive features of Smith's economic theory. One consequence of this was that Bentham played almost no part in the development of the emerging science of political economy in the early nineteenth century. The standard histories of economics all emphasize how little he contributed to the mainstream of late eighteenth and early nineteenth-century debate by concentrating attention on his utilitarianism and the psychology of hedonism on which it is premised. Others have argued that the calculating nature of his theory of practical reason reduced the whole legislative project to a crude attempt to apply economics to all aspects of social and political life. Put at its simplest this argument amounts to the erroneous claim that Bentham's science of legislation is reducible to the science of political economy. A different but equally dangerous error would be to argue that because Bentham's conception of the science of legislation comprehends all the basic forms of social relationships, there can be no science of political economy as there is no autonomous sphere of activity governed by the principles of economics. This approach is no doubt attractive from an historical point of view given that the major premise of this argument is true, and that many of Bentham's ‘economic’ arguments are couched in terms of his theory of legislation. Yet it fails to account for the undoubted importance of political economy within Bentham's writings, not just on finance, economic policy, colonies and preventive police, but also in other aspects of his utilitarian public policy such as prison reform, pauper management, and even constitutional reform. All of these works reflect a conception of political economy in its broadest terms. However, this conception of political economy differs in many respects from that of Bentham's contemporaries, and for this reason Bentham's distinctive approach to problems of economics and political economy has largely been misunderstood.

One of the most neglected aspects of Bentham's thought is his opposition to war. His views on this subject have been sketched out in a number of studies, but they have never been examined in any detail. Interested scholars have tended to base their assessments on a narrow range of sources. Most have relied on the four brief essays, collectively entitled ‘Principles of International Law’, which were published in John Bowring's edition of Bentham's Works. More particularly, they have leaned heavily on just one of these essays, ‘A Plan for an Universal and Perpetual Peace’. The aim of this paper is to present a much fuller picture of Bentham's views by supplementing relevant material in the international law essays with ideas drawn from Bentham's other works and unpublished papers.

The most common view of Mill sees him as the classic liberal and one key element in this liberalism is said to be that his thought ‘rests on the belief that the use of reason can settle fundamental social conflicts’. He is seen by a leading authority as ‘the rationalist, confident that social change could be effected by the art of persuasion and by the simple fact that men would learn from bitter experiences’. To point out that at various times in his life Mill supported the use of violence in political life is insufficient in itself to challenge this basic view. However, if it can be shown that Mill's support for political violence adds up to a coherent justificatory theory then Mill's standing as the model liberal upholder of reason might need to be revised. Or at least the commonly assumed opposition between reason and violence will need to be re-examined. Are there circumstances in which the use of violence rather than persuasion is the rational course? In looking at Mill's response to events in France, America, Ireland, and Canada as well as his attitude to British politics it is clear that there are numerous examples of his support for the use of violence: ‘I do not scruple to say that I have sympathised more or less ardently with most of the rebellions, successful and unsuccessful, which have taken place in my time’. Our present concern is to see whether he developed any general principles whereby such violence could be shown to be legitimate.

Writing in the foreword to Allan Bloom's The Closing of the American Mind and speaking of his upbringing in Chicago between the wars Saul Bellow attests that

…as a Midwesterner, the son of immigrant parents, I recognized at an early stage that I was called upon to decide for myself to what extent my Jewish origins, my surroundings [‘the accidental circumstances of Chicago’], my schooling, were to be allowed to determine the course of my life. I did not intend to be wholly dependent upon history and culture. Full dependency must mean that I was done for. The commonest teaching of the civilized world in our time can be stated simply: ‘Tell me where you come from and I'll tell you what you are’.