Orléanism is Not Dead

Pierre Vial explores the political philosophy of Orléanism, a doctrine born from the rise of the bourgeoisie and epitomized by the reign of Louis-Philippe in 19th-century France. At its core, Orléanism reflects a rejection of the traditional sovereign state in favor of a pragmatic, reductionist approach to governance, prioritizing private interests and economic stability over grand national ambitions. Rooted in the ideals of efficiency and moderation, it promotes low-cost government, free trade, and minimal state intervention, while dismissing notions of collective solidarity and sacral sovereignty. By examining its principles, advocates, and legacy, the essay reveals how Orléanism shaped not only the political landscape of its time but also influenced modern liberal and neoliberal ideologies, perpetuating a vision of society driven by commerce, individualism, and a narrowly defined material prosperity.

Originally published in Éléments no. 44, January 1983.

Translated by Alexander Raynor

"President Giscard d’Estaing once declared, to summarize his political philosophy in a clear formula, that he intended to be 'a good manager of the enterprise France.' This phrase could very well have been spoken a century and a half earlier by King Louis-Philippe. It perfectly encapsulates the liberal conception of political power: it is desirable for politics to be subordinated to economics, with the function of productivity taking precedence over the sovereign function—or more precisely, replacing the very notion of sovereignty with that of managerial decision-making. (The evolution of language is always revealing: the term 'decision-maker,' which has become fashionable in political circles, originates from the business world.)

The inversion of values is complete: in Dumézilian terms, the third function now occupies the place of the first function (the very notion of sacral sovereignty having been progressively erased from collective consciousness).

This represents the culmination of a centuries-long process that began with the rise of the economic power of the medieval merchant bourgeoisie—which was already accompanied by political ambitions (the 14th-century episode of Étienne Marcel being a notable example)—and whose decisive stage came in the last century with Orléanism.

In studying the Orléanist phenomenon, René Rémond notes that this 'form of bourgeois thought' is the origin of the idea, now accepted from liberals to social democrats, that 'the State must play the role of a good father of the family, and the government must manage the house of France as if it were a commercial enterprise.'1

The revolution of 1830 brought to power a bourgeoisie that believed it should continue the evolution initiated in 1789—that is, to establish a hierarchy of political, social, and cultural values with economic success at the top, justifying all others.

The Orléanist personnel were drawn from the haute bourgeoisie, those 'bourgeois dynasties' well described by Emmanuel Beau de Loménie, with figures like Guizot and Casimir Périer serving as typical examples. However, this haute bourgeoisie took care to secure its power by broadening its sociological base in a France beginning to feel the first—albeit modest—effects of industrialization: the middle and lower bourgeoisie. These groups were flattered by being given the uniform of the National Guard—this 'civil war army'2—while the ministers of Louis-Philippe, the 'bourgeois king,' were closely tied to the holders of financial power: 'After leaving sessions of the Chamber, ministers now went to the bankers.' It was at the banker Laffitte's house3 that, during the revolution of 1830, the deputies opposed to Charles X formed a government commission (on July 29), and they were among those who, two days later, escorted Louis-Philippe to the Hôtel de Ville.

While political personnel and high finance are closely intertwined, Orléanism, advocating the doctrine of the juste milieu (middle ground), foreshadows the Giscardian assertion that “France wants to be governed from the center.” Tocqueville notes in his Souvenirs that the middle class “occupied all positions, progressively increasing their number, and became accustomed to living almost as much off the public treasury as off their own industry... Master of everything as no aristocracy had ever been and perhaps never will be, the middle class, having become the government, took on the air of private industry.”

The ascension of the Orléans dynasty to the throne thus corresponds to the triumph of the bourgeoisie: “Already in possession of wealth and holding a monopoly on education, it now concentrates in its hands all the symbols and attributes of power... Orléanism is nothing more than the political regime and ideology that corresponds to the reign of the bourgeoisie: a regime of interests by definition, and a mode of thought enslaved to the justification of those interests.”4

Thought? “Orléanism,” writes Thibaudet, “is not a party; it is a state of mind.” He adds, “It did not represent an idea; it was simply against ideas.” This observation offers a crucial key to understanding Orléanism and its liberal offshoots—including the most contemporary. In the name of efficiency, ideas are mistrusted because “they divide”—since they force choices based on principles!—and thus, they are despised and rejected. What matters is only the acquisition and retention of power. Doctrine is replaced by a mafia-like spirit.

As a result, Louis-Philippe’s regime appeared to the younger generation—the Romantic generation—fifteen years after the Napoleonic epic as “the height of banality.” Napoleonic France lived to the rhythm of the Great Army’s communiqués, while Louis-Philippe’s France lived to the rhythm of stock market quotations. “Thus, his opponents,” remarks René Rémond, “found it easy to denounce this regime as lacking ideals, convictions, and grandeur.” By elevating opportunism to a principle, “the July Monarchy often became the reign of satisfied and triumphant mediocrity: peaceful compromise degenerated into corrupt bargains, and conciliation was reduced to sordid transactions.”5

Yet, it would be an exaggeration to say that Orléanism had no principles or ideology. Before ascending to positions of state power, men such as the editors of Globe and La Revue Française (Guizot, the Duke of Broglie, Barante, Villemain, Cousin) articulated the political concepts of Orléanism, concepts that would be reaffirmed from 1830 to 1848 in the scholarly Journal des Débats.

At the heart of these concepts lies the rejection of the sovereign State. The Orléanists’ notion of the State, as well as the competencies and powers they grant it, are shaped by a perpetually reductionist vision of politics—one that must be stripped of any sacred aura, any claim to a spiritual, religious, or sacral dimension of power. It seeks to erase from minds (as if that were possible!) a "certain idea of France"—and, by extension, of the authority that guides the people’s community—embodied by the Napoleonic adventure.

That adventure sought to create a framework for the emergence of a new warrior aristocracy, upon which a restored sovereignty could rely. This vision rested on a popular community galvanized by grand designs, by the promise of a great destiny written into history in letters of blood. Yet, at the very moment Louis-Philippe sought to co-opt the Napoleonic legend for his own benefit—by bringing the emperor’s ashes back to Paris—the political philosophy of Orléanism stood as the antithesis of what is still symbolized by the great shadow that rests in the Invalides.

Orléanism rejects grand designs... because they are costly. A shopkeeper’s vision: “The French bourgeoisie, whose deputies faithfully reflect its prejudices and tastes, has forged for itself the ideal of a low-cost government: the phrase is commonly found in debates of the time.” It represents “the transposition of the methods that the bourgeoisie employs in managing their own affairs to the conduct of public affairs: they seek to apply to public finances the principles of economy, prudence, and balance, which they have successfully applied in their businesses or trade (...) Honor, the principle of monarchic or aristocratic societies, fades in the face of the prestige of saved money.”6

Guizot, Minister of the Interior, then of Public Instruction, Foreign Affairs (1840–1847), and finally President of the Council (1847–1848)—who can rightly be considered the quintessential Orléanist—said these revealing words in 1847 before the Chamber of Deputies: “The new society is now dominant, victorious; it has proven itself; it has taken possession of the social order; it has conquered, at the same time, both the institutions and the dynasty that suit and serve it (...) Yes, all the great conquests have been made, all the great interests are satisfied (...) To succeed in the true task of our time, we only need two things: stability, first, and good management in the daily, natural affairs of government (...) Stability and good conduct in everyday life are the only true, the only great interests of today’s France.”

The same language recurs in the writings of the doctrinaires—those often called “the ideologists”—who strive to justify Orléanist positions. Tracy and Daunou—names somewhat forgotten today—but also Benjamin Constant, Madame de Staël, and Jean-Baptiste Say, all agree in demanding that the State be confined to as limited a role as possible. They all, as Girard notes, “have this preference for a modest government, a government stripped of prestige, I would even say a government in prose, a ‘desacralized’ government, as modern sociologists would put it, one that serves the governed and whose domain is as restricted as possible. For them, the essential thing is private affairs.”7

This prioritization of private affairs naturally leads to challenging and curtailing the scope of public interests. In financial matters, it is out of the question to allocate more than the bare minimum to the collective: Orléanism is resistant to taxes, to inflation (which, in a voluntarist policy, could finance major public works and collective investments), and to any limitation on private property (the very notion of national property or the higher rights of the popular community over individuals is rejected with horror). Similarly, “soldiers are a necessary evil; there should be as few of them as possible, and they should be paid as little as possible,” because “war is the most expensive of luxuries.”8 Soldiers, who do not produce material goods but consume a great deal, are, according to Jean-Baptiste Say, “the drones of the hive.” Underlying this is the old resentment—mixed with fear—of the merchant toward the warrior.

On the other hand, Orléanism elevates commerce to the highest regard. Tracy declares: “Commerce is all of society.” Moreover, commerce is a generator of peace. Hence the enthusiasm for free trade and the systematic rejection of anything that might, directly or indirectly, resemble an autarkic policy.

If the harsh law of trade crushes those at the bottom of society, the State cannot and must not intervene. There is a ready-made solution: emigration. They will surely find better conditions elsewhere... Very logically, the Orléanists are great admirers of the United States, where, as Tracy claims, “liberty, equality, enlightenment, and comfort flourish.” Orléanism justifies the great exodus that 19th-century Europe would experience through emigration by promoting a solution based on irresponsibility: since it is impossible to feed all the members of the popular community, let them leave—or rather, encourage them to leave. The very notion of a popular community, with the duty of solidarity it entails, is, of course, absent from such reasoning.

Finally—and this is the culmination of the logic—Orléanism is Malthusian. Say and Tracy assert that it is better to have fewer people so as to live better. They prioritize, as a people’s primary objective, what we now call the standard of living. The rejection of a high birth rate is directly tied to the rejection, for a people, of a Faustian destiny, of a will to power inscribed in history. “Wealth lies in people,” but Orléanism conceives of no wealth other than that which can be measured in monetary terms.

The various principles of Orléanism all rest on the elimination of the notion of sovereignty, which had persisted—despite fluctuations—in European societies until the 19th century (except in England). Duvergier de Hauranne, in 1838, stated in his Principes du gouvernement représentatif: “The king reigns but does not govern.” Behind this formula lies the negation of the Romano-Germanic sense of the State, inherited from Antiquity and transmitted, through the Middle Ages, to modern Europe.

It is this negation that today’s neoliberals, the faithful heirs of Orléanism, have embraced as their own.

1 René Rémond, Les droites en France, Aubier, 1982.

2 The repression of the uprisings in Lyon in 1831 and 1834, as well as in Paris in 1832 and 1834, was brutal. In his novel Les Lurons de Sabolas, Henri Béraud vividly depicted the Lyon uprisings. It should also be noted that it is no coincidence that Thiers, the executioner of the Communards in 1871, is a quintessential representative of Orléanism.

3 René Rémond, op. cit.

4 Ibid.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

7 Louis Girard, Le libéralisme en France de 1818 à 1848 : doctrine et mouvements, CDU, 1970.

8 Ibid.

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