Nelson Lund's recent book on Rousseau's political philosophy is the fruit of many years’ thought on this deeply puzzling author. Lund aims to introduce Rousseau to American readers and to make the case for the relevance of his ideas. This case is three-pronged: Lund demonstrates that Rousseau's account of early humans has not been disproved by modern scientific findings; he argues that Rousseau is not as different from his ancient predecessors, Aristotle and especially Plato, as one might suppose; and he shows the overlap between Rousseau's political works and American political arrangements and traditions. Although the subtitle modestly claims to offer only an introduction, Lund not only provides a thought-provoking, wide-ranging study of the works of Rousseau, both famous and obscure, but also supplies along the way interpretations of Plato's Cratylus, Laws, and Republic, Aristotle's Politics, and even Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra.

Anyone reading Rousseau for the first time will benefit from this book's descriptions and summaries of Rousseau's texts, but the questions Lund spends most of his time addressing suggest that his guiding concern is not to speak to first-time readers. He rather wishes to correct fellow political theorists who overlook Rousseau as an author who can teach us about American political principles, and more importantly, to refute those who follow Leo Strauss in believing that “Rousseau's … political philosophy broke radically with Plato's” (3) and who therefore take Rousseau to be a less serious thinker.

Following the introduction, chapters 2–5 all discuss Rousseau's view of human nature before chapter 6 finally turns to Rousseau's view of politics proper. The bulk of chapter 2 is taken up with Elizabeth Marshall Thomas's fascinating story of her time with the Ju/wasi Bushmen. Lund uses her account to lend credence to Rousseau's description of savages in nascent society as happier than civilized man. Lund never goes so far as to argue that the Ju/wasi are happier than we are, but he does provide an attractive portrait of a people deeply committed to their friendships. He also shows the similarity between the Ju/wasi and the early human communities Rousseau describes, in particular the role that amour propre plays in their social life.

The next chapter appears to be organized around an energetic rejection of Roger Masters's article “Rousseau and the Rediscovery of Human Nature.” Lund convincingly argues against Masters that modern scientific evidence has not disproved Rousseau's claims about early humans. He also takes issue with Masters's preference for “ancient naturalism.” According to Lund, Aristotle does not necessarily think that cities are any more natural than Rousseau does: as Lund reads Aristotle, the genetic account of the origin of cities at the beginning of the Politics does not greatly differ from Rousseau's speculative history in the Second Discourse, and Aristotle never defends or even unambiguously asserts the claim that the city is the telos of human community. Furthermore, Lund's Aristotle shares Hobbes's criticism of the Aristotelian doctrine of essences, and Lund argues that Rousseau's Essay on the Origin of Language, Plato's Cratylus, and the latest scientific literature on the origin of language all suggest that speech is unnatural. Lund then concludes that since speech is unnatural, and human society depends upon speech, man is “naturally and profoundly non-political” (227). If we thus follow Rousseau in rejecting the deformation of Plato into Platonism and the Christianization of Aristotle, then, according to Lund, we will see the continuity between Rousseau's views and the true views of the ancients.

Chapter 4 compares Plato's Laws with Rousseau's Letter to D'Alembert on the proper role of women in society. It argues that Plato and Rousseau come to different conclusions because they are applying the same principles to different circumstances. Lund shows that both Plato and Rousseau think it is necessary to educate women in order to bring about the optimal mixture of individual happiness and civic well-being. That this mixture is of ultimately incompatible goods can be seen, Lund thinks, in the fact that the Athenian Stranger and Rousseau both defend their preferred policy by arguments appealing to nature which Lund finds manifestly unpersuasive. He argues that for both Plato and Rousseau, civic happiness must be brought about through conventions prescribing relations between the sexes that can be at best described as quasi-natural.

Chapter 5 continues the theme of marriage and nature, this time in an extended discussion of Rousseau's Emile. Appearances to the contrary, the education Emile receives has much in common with the education described in Plato's Republic. Lund even boldly asserts that the marriage lottery of the Republic is no more unnatural than Emile's monogamous marriage to Sophie (166–67). But there is an even deeper similarity between Emile and the Republic, Lund argues, since Emile's life is not the only life promoted within Emile’s pages. Emile's belief in religion—and what Lund calls his “wishful thinking” that the afterlife exists (201–2, 210)—is an important part of his “natural education” for the sake of his private happiness within society. But Lund finds evidence within Emile and other works of Rousseau that “would seem to require us to refrain from assuming that philosophy can never be an alternative to religious belief” (192). In other words, Emile may need religion to be happy, but maybe people like Rousseau do not. He and Plato ultimately agree, Lund thinks, that the philosophic life of private happiness of agnosticism (or perhaps atheism) is superior to the gentlemanly life of Emile.

In the final chapter, Lund argues that Americans ought to turn to Rousseau for political guidance. The chapter begins with two quick arguments against Hobbes and Locke that do not seem to treat these authors with the same respect that Lund accords to other great thinkers. The subsequent argument is far stronger: not only are Rousseau's political principles not as radical as some might suppose, but he also favors measured application of those principles in practice. Lund very astutely points out ways that Rousseau even anticipates the arguments of Federalist, Nos. 10 and 51. Most usefully, Lund shows how one could glean from Rousseau's political works an understanding of federalism and of the central importance of political leadership at the time of political foundings. To my knowledge, neither of these important aspects of American politics can be found in Locke. In one particularly memorable line, Lund summarizes Rousseau as arguing that political liberty requires excellent leaders, and not merely “a crowd of would-be bourgeois desperate to escape the state of nature” (243).

Lund's work is unique in the scholarship for paying special attention to Rousseau's own explicit references to Plato. This is undoubtably the best starting point for figuring out the relation between these authors. Lund in effect provides a useful catalog of these references, but with one significant hole: there is no discussion of the First Discourse and Socrates's appearance within it. The omission is somewhat strange, since the First Discourse directly discusses the proper role of philosophy and science in society. Lund never addresses Rousseau's antiphilosophic arguments nor this potential difference between him and Plato, though Lund somehow concludes that Rousseau's “analysis of politics and the human soul can help to rejuvenate political philosophy as an entrance to philosophy as a way of life” (269). Would this be despite Rousseau's apparent efforts to dissuade us from pursing philosophy as a way of life?

Many of this book's most helpful insights come when Lund turns his eye as a political practitioner on Rousseau's abstract political writings. But he wants to make it clear that Rousseau's usefulness is not limited to helping us better understand Supreme Court decisions or providing us with modern-day cultural criticism (258, 268). By ending his book with the assertion that Rousseau can help introduce his readers to the philosophic life, and by burying many of his finest political insights in footnotes to the last chapter, Lund gives the impression of being almost apologetic for bringing to bear his expertise in constitutional law on his reading of Rousseau. This is a shame, since his sensible take on Rousseau's straightforwardly political works is a refreshing and most welcome addition to the scholarship.

As Lund himself emphasizes, the literary styles of Rousseau and Plato make it impossible to simply take any one idea or argument out of context and assert it to be the author's doctrine. Lund therefore reads these works dialectically, that is, by conjecturing explanations for the author's weak arguments in order to uncover the author's stronger arguments. Though I agree with this methodology, there are several points on which I think Lund has too quickly pushed past the surface meaning of the text. But despite my occasional disagreements, I think Lund certainly makes a valuable contribution to Rousseau scholarship. He has shown both Rousseau's deep connection with his ancient predecessors and the enduring relevance of his political philosophy.