Second Treatise of the Government

What does it truly mean to be free? This question lies at the heart of Laurence Houlgate’s Understanding John Locke: The Smart Student’s Guide to Second Treatise of Government. Houlgate does more than summarize Locke’s Second Treatise; he reconstructs the logic behind Locke’s most influential ideas—the nature of liberty, property, consent, and legitimate government—and explains why they became cornerstones of modern democracy. It’s a guide written for students who, like Locke’s own readers three centuries ago, seek to understand not just political theory, but the moral roots of political life itself.

Houlgate invites you to step into Locke’s 17th-century world, a turbulent England wrestling with monarchy, revolution, and questions of divine authority. In this context, Locke’s ideas about natural rights and social contracts were revolutionary. He asked: what gives anyone the right to rule over anyone else? His answer—that political power is legitimate only when it arises from the consent of the governed and is exercised for the public good—helped dismantle the divine right of kings and inspired the birth of liberal democracy.

The Moral Foundation: Natural Law and Human Equality

Houlgate begins by unpacking Locke’s notion of the “state of nature.” This is not a historical account but a thought experiment: an imagined condition before governments and laws. In this state, everyone enjoys perfect freedom and equality, bounded only by the natural law. That law, accessible through reason, dictates that no one ought to harm another in their life, liberty, health, or possessions. To you, this might sound like common sense—but in Locke’s time, it was a radical statement that replaced divine hierarchy with moral equality. From this premise, every principle of justice, charity, and political legitimacy flows.

Importantly, Houlgate emphasizes Locke’s dual recognition of negative and positive duties. It’s not enough merely to refrain from harming others; one must also work to preserve others’ well-being when possible. This reflects a moral depth often missing from narrower interpretations of Locke as an advocate of “selfish individualism.”

The Journey to Civil Society and Consent

Houlgate then connects Locke’s moral theory to his political one. The state of nature, while peaceful in principle, is also precarious. Because each person is judge, jury, and executioner under the law of nature, disputes inevitably devolve into states of war. To escape this cycle, rational people enter into a social contract—a voluntary agreement to form a political society under a government authorized to enforce impartial law. But this consent is crucial: no one can be subjected to another’s power without agreeing to it. Thus, Locke’s government is not founded on bloodlines or theology but on mutual agreement and trust.

In today’s terms, when you vote, obey laws, or agree to abide by the laws of a country you visit, you’re participating in what Locke called express or tacit consent. Houlgate’s analysis makes this concept tangible, showing how modern citizenship still rests on this 17th-century logic of consent and cooperation.

Freedom, Property, and the Limits of Power

Locke’s vision of freedom is inseparable from his defense of property. As Houlgate explains, for Locke, property doesn’t mean just land or goods—it extends to your life, liberty, and body. What makes something rightfully yours is the labor you mix with it. This idea—the labor theory of property—laid the groundwork for capitalism but also raised enduring questions about inequality. Houlgate carefully walks the reader through Locke’s reasoning and its limits, showing how consent to the use of money allowed inequality to grow beyond nature’s original boundaries.

Yet even in a market society, Locke’s principle remains: government exists not to benefit the rulers or the rich but to protect everyone’s property. To this end, Houlgate highlights Locke’s insistence that legislative power must always be limited and exercised under promulgated, general laws made for the public good.

Why These Ideas Still Matter

Through clear commentary, Houlgate connects Locke’s 17th-century logic to real-world legacies. The American Declaration of Independence echoes Locke’s phrasing of natural rights to “life, liberty, and property” (or “the pursuit of happiness”), while Jefferson, Madison, and other founders built the U.S. Constitution on his model of limited, consent-based governance. But beyond history, Locke’s framework still challenges you to ask: when does government cease to represent the people’s trust? If laws serve private ambitions instead of the public good, is resistance justified?

Houlgate’s study ends where it began—with philosophy’s core virtue: learning not what to think, but how to think. By guiding you through Locke’s method of reasoning, his careful use of deduction, and his moral logic, Houlgate shows that philosophy is not dusty abstraction—it’s the practice of reflective freedom. Understanding Locke becomes, then, an education in your own capacity for reasoned liberty.

Locke’s idea of freedom begins not in politics but in morality. In the state of nature, you are free to act, use, and dispose of your life and possessions as you choose—but only within the bounds of the natural law. Houlgate explains that this law is not written in scripture or decreed by kings; it’s discovered by reason. It tells you that, because all human beings are equal and independent, no one ought to harm another’s life, health, liberty, or property.

Through this single principle, Locke unites ethics and politics. Freedom is not license to do whatever you wish—it’s the rational liberty to act within moral boundaries that safeguard everyone’s wellbeing. In practical terms, this means that even before laws or governments, you have duties to others: do not harm, and when possible, help preserve others’ lives. This is why Houlgate calls Locke’s moral philosophy both deontological and subtly communal.

Reason and Reciprocity

The “law of nature,” Locke insists, is made known to humanity through reason. Just as rational minds can deduce that triangles have three sides, they can deduce that harming others contradicts equality and independence. Houlgate draws attention to Locke’s debt to Richard Hooker, who argued a century earlier that equality by nature was “evident in itself.” Locke extends this claim to prove that moral duties are reciprocal: the respect you claim from others is the respect you owe to them. Mutual love, justice, and charity all grow out of this equality.

Punishment and Proportion

But what happens when someone breaks the law of nature? Here, Locke’s reasoning becomes both practical and controversial. Everyone in the state of nature has the right to punish offenders—because everyone has the right to defend the natural law. Yet this right is not absolute: punishment must be proportional and aimed at restraint and reparation, not revenge. Houlgate compares this reasoning to early utilitarian thought: punishment is justified only to prevent greater harm. This blend of moral duty and consideration of consequences makes Locke an early bridge between deontological and consequentialist ethics.

The Right to Defend Life

In Locke’s account of the “state of war,” to threaten another’s life is to forfeit your own protection under the natural law. Thus, it is lawful—even moral—to defend your life with force if another aggressively seeks to take it. Houlgate uses Locke’s famous example of the “thief”: if someone uses force to take away your liberty, such as an armed robber, you may justly treat them as an aggressor in a state of war. Modern debates about self-defense, “stand your ground” laws, and human rights all echo this Lockean reasoning. Freedom, for Locke, is inseparable from the duty to preserve life—yours and others’—under the guidance of reason.

Few ideas have shaped modern politics as powerfully as Locke’s defense of property. Houlgate notes that for Locke, property is not just stuff; it includes your life, liberty, and the fruit of your labor. Ownership is moral, not merely economic—it’s grounded in the natural right of self-preservation and human effort.

The Labor Argument

Locke’s labor argument begins with a simple observation: you own your body, and thus you own your labor. When you mix that labor with something in nature—a field you till, an apple you pick—it becomes yours. Houlgate walks readers through Locke’s six-step reasoning, showing how personal labor annexes what was common. Yet Locke adds limits: you can take only as much as you can use, leaving “enough and as good” for others. Destroying or hoarding nature’s goods beyond use violates the moral foundation of property itself.

Spoilage and the Rise of Money

Houlgate highlights Locke’s “spoilage provision,” which forbids waste. But Locke also points to a clever human invention that dissolves this limit: money. By mutual consent, people began exchanging perishable goods for imperishable ones—gold, silver, and other durable tokens. This innovation let individuals justly accumulate as much wealth as they wished, since money does not spoil. The trade-off, however, is profound. Inequality arises not from nature but from human agreement. Once you consent to money, you also consent to unequal outcomes.

The Moral Question of Inequality

Locke believed this inequality was permissible because it resulted from voluntary consent. Houlgate challenges readers to see the weakness in that logic: consenting to a system (like money) doesn’t mean consenting to all its consequences (like poverty or exploitation). He draws parallels to modern critics of capitalism, calling Locke’s reasoning a “false assumption of consent.” This section shows Houlgate’s ability to treat Locke both sympathetically and critically, teaching readers how philosophical ideas evolve under scrutiny.

Ultimately, property for Locke anchors liberty. Without secure ownership of one’s labor and goods, freedom and life itself would be precarious. Yet as Houlgate reminds you, the Lockean ideal also demands balance—between self-interest and justice, between accumulation and the common good. Understanding that balance may be the key to applying Locke’s moral economy in a modern world marked by excess and inequality.

You might take for granted that governments must rule with the people’s consent—but this idea originates largely with Locke. Houlgate explains how Locke builds this notion step by step: from the natural equality of individuals to their eventual political unity under a common authority. Without consent, power is mere force; with consent, it becomes legitimate law.

Leaving the State of Nature

In the state of nature, people enjoy perfect freedom but lack a neutral judge. Their attempts to enforce the natural law themselves easily turn into personal vengeance, leading to endless conflict. The only remedy is for individuals to unite and establish a civil society where collective power replaces private force. This transformation—from solitary freedom to shared governance—is achieved through unanimous consent to a social contract. Each person gives up two powers: the right to make their own law and the right to execute punishment.

The Logic of Majority Rule

Locke’s reasoning here is deeply logical, and Houlgate reconstructs it with clarity. Once individuals become one body politic, they must act as one. Unanimity in every decision would paralyze society. Therefore, the act of creating government requires unanimous consent, but the act of governing requires only majority consent. This distinction between founding and functioning democracies remains foundational today.

Express and Tacit Consent

Houlgate then explores Locke’s two forms of consent. Express consent is explicit—signing a contract, swearing an oath. Tacit consent, however, is implied by actions: living peacefully within a society, using its roads, or owning property there. By such participation, you agree to abide by its laws. Yet, Houlgate smartly questions the fairness of tacit consent—can someone born into a country truly “choose” to obey? This problem, still debated in political philosophy, shows Locke’s lasting influence and the limits of his voluntarism.

Civil society, for Locke, is not merely about order or safety—it’s the condition that makes moral freedom possible. Under just laws and impartial judges, you remain free because you obey rules you’ve helped to create. Houlgate underscores this paradox beautifully: true liberty requires law, and real government exists only by consent.

Locke’s revolution in political thought comes to life in his insistence that power must serve the public good and remain limited by the rule of law. Houlgate outlines Locke’s three types of power—legislative, executive, and federative—and his principle of separation to prevent tyranny.

The Rule of Law

For Locke, laws must be known, general, and consistent. They cannot be arbitrary commands of rulers. Houlgate compares this to the modern concept of the rule of law: government itself must operate under law, not above it. If you live under laws made by consent, you’re free; if under decrees of will, you’re not. Locke’s vision prefigures the American constitutional system, where checks and balances ensure that laws are made, executed, and judged by distinct bodies.

Limits of Legislative Power

Houlgate highlights Locke’s four restrictions. Legislators cannot wield power beyond what people had in nature—they can’t destroy life or seize property without consent. They must legislate only through established, public rules. They cannot tax without representation. And they cannot transfer their legislative power elsewhere. These limits prevent the transformation of trust into tyranny.

Separation of Powers and Human Nature

Why separate powers at all? Locke’s answer is pragmatic: because humans are fallible. Concentrating both the power to make and enforce laws tempts rulers to privilege themselves. By separating legislative and executive powers, Locke prevents self-serving governance. Houlgate stresses Locke’s realism—government must be designed for imperfect beings. The genius of limited power lies not in idealism but in humility about human motives.

When government loses sight of its moral end—the preservation of life, liberty, and property—it forfeits legitimacy. This idea, Houlgate reminds you, is Locke’s deepest legacy: political authority is always conditional. The people remain, always, the supreme power.

When can a people rightfully resist their government? Locke’s daring answer—that resistance is sometimes a duty—solidified his reputation as the philosopher of revolution. Houlgate traces how Locke derives this from the same principles that justify government in the first place: consent, trust, and natural rights.

Tyranny Defined

Tyranny, Locke writes, is the use of power beyond right—not for the public good, but for selfish ends. A ruler who makes personal will the rule, who destroys property or life arbitrarily, forfeits moral legitimacy. Houlgate links this to famous examples: when a king cancels lawful inheritance, when a judge manipulates justice, when a legislator taxes without consent—all are acts of tyranny. Each violates the rule of law and the people’s trust.

The People’s Trust and Right to Resist

Government exists only by a fiduciary trust between the rulers and the ruled. When rulers betray that trust—invading liberty, confiscating property—they place themselves back in a “state of war” with the people. Locke concludes that obedience is then dissolved; citizens are restored to their natural right of self-preservation. Houlgate parallels this logic with the American Declaration of Independence, which echoes Locke almost verbatim: when a “long train of abuses” shows a design for despotism, it is the people’s duty to throw off such government.

The Morality of Revolution

Houlgate emphasizes Locke’s caution: not every governmental error justifies revolt. Only systematic betrayal of public trust does. Resistance is morally justified, but it must always aim at restoration of lawful authority, not chaos. This careful reasoning shows Locke’s dual legacy as both radical and conservative—he empowers the people to reclaim freedom, but only through reasoned judgment, not passion. The right to revolution, then, is not an invitation to violence; it’s a reminder that legitimacy, in politics, always has moral boundaries.

Houlgate ends his companion book with an enlightening comparison between Locke and Plato—two thinkers separated by millennia but united in their search for justice and order. Both sought to explain why societies exist and under what conditions they are just, but their answers reflect two visions of human nature and reason.

Plato’s Hierarchies vs. Locke’s Equality

Plato’s Republic imagines a perfectly ordered city where philosopher-kings rule by wisdom, and justice means each person doing the work suited to their nature. Locke’s world, in contrast, begins with equality and consent. No one is born a ruler. Where Plato grounds legitimacy in virtue and knowledge, Locke grounds it in choice and trust. The philosopher seeks harmony; Locke seeks liberty.

Two Methods, One Aim

Houlgate also highlights the difference in method. Plato’s dialectic works through questioning and refutation—analytic yet visionary. Locke’s method is deductive and analytic in the modern sense, closer to rational science than to mythic philosophy. Both are engaged in defining the essence of political power, but Locke’s reasoning transforms speculation into practical politics. His “thought experiments” (like the state of nature) anticipate the logical precision of modern analytical philosophy.

Ultimately, Houlgate suggests that Plato and Locke share the same moral horizon: both are concerned with aligning human reason to moral law. Yet where Plato finds justice in unity and hierarchy, Locke finds it in autonomy and equality. Understanding both allows you to grasp the twin roots of Western thought—the ideal of moral order and the ideal of individual freedom. Houlgate’s closing insight is that philosophy, whether ancient or modern, teaches not static answers but disciplined ways of thinking—an education in liberty itself.