The publication in 1975 of Edward O. Wilson's Sociobiology provoked a great controversy, for in that work Wilson claimed that ethics was rooted in human biology. On the first page of the book, he asserted that our deepest intuitions of right and wrong are guided by the emotional control centers of the brain, which evolved via natural selection to help the human animal exploit opportunities and avoid threats in the natural environment. In 1998, the publication of Wilson's Consilience renewed the controversy, as he continued to argue for explaining ethics through the biology of the moral sentiments.

Whether or not Strauss's observation is historically accurate, it does suggest two sets of questions for philosophical examination. (1) Is Strauss correct to view natural duties and natural rights as the same type of ethical concept? Do they serve the same function? Do they work on the same level, and are they necessarily in competition with each other? (2) Does saying that the individual human being is the center of the moral world require that one reject the idea of a human end, or telos? Does accepting the ethical centrality of a human telos require that one reject ethical individualism? Are they mutually exclusive?

There is a story about the connection between the rise of consent theories of political obligation and the fall of natural law theories of political obligation that is popular among political philosophers but nevertheless false. The story is, to put it crudely, that the rise of consent theory in the modern period coincided with, and came as a result of, the fall of the natural law theory that dominated during the medieval period. Neat though it is, the story errs doubly, for it supposes both that consent did not play a key role in natural law theories of political authority offered in the medieval period (a supposition falsified by close inspection of the view of Aquinas, perhaps the paradigmatic natural law theorist) and that natural law theory did not play a key role in the consent theories of political authority offered in the modern period (a supposition falsified by close inspection of the views of Hobbes and Locke, perhaps the paradigmatic consent theorists).

Though questions of political obligation have long been central to liberal political theory, discussion has generally focused on voluntaristic aspects of the individual's relationship to the state, as opposed to other factors through which the state is able to ground compliance with its laws. The individual has been conceptualized as naturally without political ties, whether or not formally in a state of nature, and questions of political obligation have centered on accounting for political bonds.

A perennial question of jurisprudence has been whether there is a relationship between law and morality. Those who believe that there is no such relationship are known as “legal positivists,” while those who hold that some such relationship exists are usually tagged with the label “natural lawyers.” Unfortunately, the latter phrase has been used in quite divergent senses. Sometimes it is used to designate any objectivist position about morality; as often, it labels the view that human nature determines what is objectively good or right; and perhaps as often, it labels the view that some natural facts other than facts about human nature determine what is objectively good or right; and sometimes the label presupposes some divine origins to both morality and human law.

The city of Cincinnati, we know, can be an engaging place, but federal judge Arthur Spiegel also found, in the mid-'90s, that it could be quite a vexing place. The city council of Cincinnati had passed what was called the Human Rights Ordinance of 1992, which barred virtually all species of discrimination—including discrimination on the basis of “Appalachian origin.” But the bill also encompassed a bar on discrimination based on “sexual orientation.” This kind of bill, in other places, had been turned into a club to be used against evangelical Christians who might refuse, on moral grounds, to rent space in their homes to gay or lesbian couples. And so a movement arose in Cincinnati, modeled on a similar movement in Colorado, to override the ordinance passed by the council: this would not be a referendum merely to repeal the law, but a move to amend the charter of the municipal government and remove, from the hands of the local legislature, the authority to pass bills of this kind. In effect, this was an attempt to override an ordinary statute by changing the constitution of the local government. The amendment did not seek to make homosexual acts the grounds for criminal prosecutions; it sought, rather, to bar any attempt to make gay and lesbian orientation the ground for special advantages, quotas, or preferential “minority status” in the law. The framers of the amendment objected to the tendency to treat gays and lesbians on the same plane as groups that have suffered discrimination based on race, religion, or gender. The proposal, known as Issue 3, drew wide support and passed in a referendum in 1993. It was, of course, challenged in the courts, which is why it found its way into the hands of Judge Spiegel.

In Plato's Laws, the Athenian Stranger claims that the gods will smile only on a city where the law “is despot over the rulers and the rulers are slaves of the law.” This passage is the origin of the slogan “the rule of law not of men,” an abbreviation of which forms our phrase “the rule of law.” From Plato and Aristotle, through John Adams and John Marshall, down to us, no idea has proven more central to Western political and legal culture. Yet the slogan turns on a very dubious metaphor. Laws do not rule, and the “rule of law not of men” is actually a specific form of rule by men (including, nowadays, a few women). These rulers are not slaves to anything. Furthermore, the construction of the slogan—rule of law and not of men—has unfortunate connotations. It suggests that the personal qualities of the human rulers required to secure the rule of law are nothing more than forbearance and disinterestedness—a resolution to stay out of law's way.

In this essay I will try to develop a natural law justification of welfare rights. The justification I will undertake is from the perspective of Catholic natural law, that is, the strand of natural law that has been developed theoretically by Roman Catholic canonists, theologians, and philosophers since Aquinas, and affirmed by Catholic teachers as the basis for most moral obligations. Catholic natural law is, therefore, natural law as developed and understood by Catholics or others respecting Catholic traditions of inquiry. It is not, however, primarily or exclusively natural law for Catholics, since the very idea of natural law includes the conviction that it is accessible in principle to anyone.

Montesquieu is not often thought of as a significant natural law thinker. The article on natural law in the International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences discusses many theorists of the natural law, but Montesquieu is not among them. A valuable older survey of natural law theorizing by legal philosopher A. P. d'Entrèves cites the Frenchman but once, as a very minor character in a story with far more significant actors—Thomas Aquinas, Hugo Grotius, even Georg Hegel. A yet more comprehensive survey of the topic, Natural Law and Human Dignity, by French philosopher and social theorist Ernst Bloch, does not mention Montesquieu at all.