THE PROMISE OF AMERICAN LIFE

BY HERBERT CROLY

New YorkTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY

 * * * * *

Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1909. ReprintedJune, 1910; April, 1911; March, 1912. 

Norwood PressJ. S. Cushing Co. --Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass. , U. S. A. 

Dedicated

TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE

DAVID GOODMAN CROLY

CONTENTS

CHAPTER IWHAT IS THE PROMISE OF AMERICAN LIFE?

CHAPTER IITHE FEDERALISTS AND THE REPUBLICANS

CHAPTER IIITHE DEMOCRATS AND THE WHIGS

CHAPTER IVSLAVERY AND AMERICAN NATIONALITY

CHAPTER VTHE CONTEMPORARY SITUATION

CHAPTER VIREFORM AND THE REFORMERS

CHAPTER VIIRECONSTRUCTION; ITS CONDITIONS AND PURPOSES

CHAPTER VIIINATIONALITY AND DEMOCRACY

CHAPTER IXTHE AMERICAN DEMOCRACY AND ITS NATIONAL PRINCIPLES

CHAPTER XA NATIONAL FOREIGN POLICY

CHAPTER XIPROBLEMS OF RECONSTRUCTION--PART I

CHAPTER XIIPROBLEMS OF RECONSTRUCTION--PART II

CHAPTER XIIICONCLUSIONS--THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE NATIONAL PURPOSE

INDEX

THE PROMISE OF AMERICAN LIFE

CHAPTER I

I

WHAT IS THE PROMISE OF AMERICAN LIFE?

The average American is nothing if not patriotic. "The Americans arefilled, " says Mr. Emil Reich in his "Success among the Nations, " "withsuch an implicit and absolute confidence in their Union and in theirfuture success that any remark other than laudatory is inacceptable tothe majority of them. We have had many opportunities of hearing publicspeakers in America cast doubts upon the very existence of God and ofProvidence, question the historic nature or veracity of the whole fabricof Christianity; but never has it been our fortune to catch theslightest whisper of doubt, the slightest want of faith, in the chiefGod of America--unlimited belief in the future of America. " Mr. Reich'smethod of emphasis may not be very happy, but the substance of what hesays is true. The faith of Americans in their own country is religious, if not in its intensity, at any rate in its almost absolute anduniversal authority. It pervades the air we breathe. As children we hearit asserted or implied in the conversation of our elders. Every newstage of our educational training provides some additional testimony onits behalf. Newspapers and novelists, orators and playwrights, even ifthey are little else, are at least loyal preachers of the Truth. Theskeptic is not controverted; he is overlooked. It constitutes the kindof faith which is the implication, rather than the object, of thought, and consciously or unconsciously it enters largely into our personallives as a formative influence. We may distrust and dislike much that isdone in the name of our country by our fellow-countrymen; but ourcountry itself, its democratic system, and its prosperous future areabove suspicion. 

Of course, Americans have no monopoly of patriotic enthusiasm and goodfaith. Englishmen return thanks to Providence for not being bornanything but an Englishman, in churches and ale-houses as well as incomic operas. The Frenchman cherishes and proclaims the idea that Franceis the most civilized modern country and satisfies best the needs of aman of high social intelligence. The Russian, whose political and socialestate does not seem enviable to his foreign contemporaries, secretes avision of a mystically glorified Russia, which condemns to comparativeinsipidity the figures of the "Pax Britannica" and of "La Belle France"enlightening the world. Every nation, in proportion as its nationalityis thoroughly alive, must be leavened by the ferment of some such faith. But there are significant differences between the faith of, say, anEnglishman in the British Empire and that of an American in the Land ofDemocracy. The contents of an Englishman's national idea tends to bemore exclusive. His patriotism is anchored to the historicalachievements of Great Britain and restricted thereby. As a good patriothe is bound to be more preoccupied with the inherited fabric of nationalinstitutions and traditions than he is with the ideal and more thannational possibilities of the future. This very loyalty to the nationalfabric does, indeed, imply an important ideal content; but the nationalidealism of an Englishman, a German, or even a Frenchman, is heavilymortgaged to his own national history and cannot honestly escape thedebt. The good patriot is obliged to offer faithful allegiance to anetwork of somewhat arbitrary institutions, social forms, andintellectual habits--on the ground that his country is exposed to moreserious dangers from premature emancipation than it is from stubbornconservatism. France is the only European country which has sought tomake headway towards a better future by means of a revolutionary breakwith its past; and the results of the French experiment have served forother European countries more as a warning than as an example. 

The higher American patriotism, on the other hand, combines loyalty tohistorical tradition and precedent with the imaginative projection of anideal national Promise. The Land of Democracy has always appealed to itsmore enthusiastic children chiefly as a land of wonderful and more thannational possibilities. "Neither race nor tradition, " says ProfessorHugo Münsterberg in his volume on "The Americans, " "nor the actual past, binds the American to his countrymen, but rather the future whichtogether they are building. " This vision of a better future is not, perhaps, as unclouded for the present generation of Americans as it wasfor certain former generations; but in spite of a more friendlyacquaintance with all sorts of obstacles and pitfalls, our country isstill figured in the imagination of its citizens as the Land of Promise. They still believe that somehow and sometime something better willhappen to good Americans than has happened to men in any other country;and this belief, vague, innocent, and uninformed though it be, is theexpression of an essential constituent in our national ideal. The pastshould mean less to a European than it does to an American, and thefuture should mean more. To be sure, American life cannot with impunitybe wrenched violently from its moorings any more than the life of aEuropean country can; but our American past, compared to that of anyEuropean country, has a character all its own. Its peculiarity consists, not merely in its brevity, but in the fact that from the beginning ithas been informed by an idea. From the beginning Americans have beenanticipating and projecting a better future. From the beginning the Landof Democracy has been figured as the Land of Promise. Thus theAmerican's loyalty to the national tradition rather affirms than deniesthe imaginative projection of a better future. An America which was notthe Land of Promise, which was not informed by a prophetic outlook and amore or less constructive ideal, would not be the America bequeathed tous by our forefathers. In cherishing the Promise of a better nationalfuture the American is fulfilling rather than imperiling the substanceof the national tradition. 

When, however, Americans talk of their country as the Land of Promise, aquestion may well be raised as to precisely what they mean. They mean, of course, in general, that the future will have something better instore for them individually and collectively than has the past or thepresent; but a very superficial analysis of this meaning disclosescertain ambiguities. What are the particular benefits which this betterfuture will give to Americans either individually or as a nation? Andhow is this Promise to be fulfilled? Will it fulfill itself, or does itimply certain responsibilities? If so, what responsibilities? When wespeak of a young man's career as promising, we mean that his abilitiesand opportunities are such that he is likely to become rich or famous orpowerful; and this judgment does not of course imply, so far as we areconcerned, any responsibility. It is merely a prophecy based upon pastperformances and proved qualities. But the career, which from thestandpoint of an outsider is merely an anticipation, becomes for theyoung man himself a serious task. For him, at all events, the betterfuture will not merely happen. He will have to do something to deserveit. It may be wrecked by unforeseen obstacles, by unsuspectedinfirmities, or by some critical error of judgment. So it is with thePromise of American life. From the point of view of an immigrant thisPromise may consist of the anticipation of a better future, which he canshare merely by taking up his residence on American soil; but once hehas become an American, the Promise can no longer remain merely ananticipation. It becomes in that case a responsibility, which requiresfor its fulfillment a certain kind of behavior on the part of himselfand his fellow-Americans. And when we attempt to define the Promise ofAmerican life, we are obliged, also, to describe the kind of behaviorwhich the fulfillment of the Promise demands. 

The distinction between the two aspects of America as a Land of Promisemade in the preceding paragraph is sufficiently obvious, but it isusually slurred by the average good American patriot. The better future, which is promised for himself, his children, and for other Americans, ischiefly a matter of confident anticipation. He looks upon it very muchas a friendly outsider might look on some promising individual career. The better future is understood by him as something which fulfillsitself. He calls his country, not only the Land of Promise, but the Landof Destiny. It is fairly launched on a brilliant and successful career, the continued prosperity of which is prophesied by the very momentum ofits advance. As Mr. H. G. Wells says in "The Future in America, " "Whenone talks to an American of his national purpose, he seems a little at aloss; if one speaks of his national destiny, he responds with alacrity. "The great majority of Americans would expect a book written about "ThePromise of American Life" to contain chiefly a fanciful description ofthe glorious American future--a sort of Utopia up-to-date, situated inthe land of Good-Enough, and flying the Stars and Stripes. They mightadmit in words that the achievement of this glorious future impliedcertain responsibilities, but they would not regard the admission eitheras startling or novel. Such responsibilities were met by ourpredecessors; they will be met by our followers. Inasmuch as it is thehonorable American past which prophesies on behalf of the betterAmerican future, our national responsibility consists fundamentally inremaining true to traditional ways of behavior, standards, and ideals. What we Americans have to do in order to fulfill our national Promise isto keep up the good work--to continue resolutely and cheerfully alongthe appointed path. 

The reader who expects this book to contain a collection of patrioticprophecies will be disappointed. I am not a prophet in any sense of theword, and I entertain an active and intense dislike of the foregoingmixture of optimism, fatalism, and conservatism. To conceive the betterAmerican future as a consummation which will take care of itself, --asthe necessary result of our customary conditions, institutions, andideas, --persistence in such a conception is admirably designed todeprive American life of any promise at all. The better future whichAmericans propose to build is nothing if not an idea which must incertain essential respects emancipate them from their past. Americanhistory contains much matter for pride and congratulation, and muchmatter for regret and humiliation. On the whole, it is a past of whichthe loyal American has no reason to feel ashamed, chiefly because it hasthroughout been made better than it was by the vision of a betterfuture; and the American of to-day and to-morrow must remain true tothat traditional vision. He must be prepared to sacrifice to thattraditional vision even the traditional American ways of realizing it. Such a sacrifice is, I believe, coming to be demanded; and unless it ismade, American life will gradually cease to have any specific Promise. 

The only fruitful promise of which the life of any individual or anynation can be possessed, is a promise determined by an ideal. Such apromise is to be fulfilled, not by sanguine anticipations, not by aconservative imitation of past achievements, but by laborious, single-minded, clear-sighted, and fearless work. If the promising careerof any individual is not determined by a specific and worthy purpose, itrapidly drifts into a mere pursuit of success; and even if such apursuit is successful, whatever promise it may have had, is buried inthe grave of its triumph. So it is with a nation. If its promise isanything more than a vision of power and success, that addition mustderive its value from a purpose; because in the moral world the futureexists only as a workshop in which a purpose is to be realized. Each ofthe several leading European nations is possessed of a specific purposedetermined for the most part by the pressure of historicalcircumstances; but the American nation is committed to a purpose whichis not merely of historical manufacture. It is committed to therealization of the democratic ideal; and if its Promise is to befulfilled, it must be prepared to follow whithersoever that ideal maylead. 

No doubt Americans have in some measure always conceived their nationalfuture as an ideal to be fulfilled. Their anticipations have beenuplifting as well as confident and vainglorious. They have beenprophesying not merely a safe and triumphant, but also a better, future. The ideal demand for some sort of individual and social amelioration hasalways accompanied even their vainest flights of patriotic prophecy. They may never have sufficiently realized that this better future, justin so far as it is better, will have to be planned and constructedrather than fulfilled of its own momentum; but at any rate, in seekingto disentangle and emphasize the ideal implications of the Americannational Promise, I am not wholly false to the accepted Americantradition. Even if Americans have neglected these ideal implications, even if they have conceived the better future as containing chiefly alarger portion of familiar benefits, the ideal demand, nevertheless, hasalways been palpably present; and if it can be established as thedominant aspect of the American tradition, that tradition may betransformed, but it will not be violated. 

Furthermore, much as we may dislike the American disposition to take thefulfillment of our national Promise for granted, the fact that such adisposition exists in its present volume and vigor demands respectfulconsideration. It has its roots in the salient conditions of Americanlife, and in the actual experience of the American people. The nationalPromise, as it is popularly understood, has in a way been fulfillingitself. If the underlying conditions were to remain much as they havebeen, the prevalent mixture of optimism, fatalism, and conservatismmight retain a formidable measure of justification; and the changeswhich are taking place in the underlying conditions and in the scope ofAmerican national experience afford the most reasonable expectation thatthis state of mind will undergo a radical alteration. It is newconditions which are forcing Americans to choose between the conceptionof their national Promise as a process and an ideal. Before, however, the nature of these novel conditions and their significance can beconsidered, we must examine with more care the relation between theearlier American economic and social conditions and the ideas andinstitutions associated with them. Only by a better understanding of thepopular tradition, only by an analysis of its merits and itsdifficulties, can we reach a more consistent and edifying conception ofthe Promise of American life. 

II

HOW THE PROMISE HAS BEEN REALIZED

All the conditions of American life have tended to encourage an easy, generous, and irresponsible optimism. As compared to Europeans, Americans have been very much favored by circumstances. Had it not beenfor the Atlantic Ocean and the virgin wilderness, the United Stateswould never have been the Land of Promise. The European Powers have beenobliged from the very conditions of their existence to be morecircumspect and less confident of the future. They are always by way offighting for their national security and integrity. With possible oractual enemies on their several frontiers, and with their land fullyoccupied by their own population, they need above all to be strong, tobe cautious, to be united, and to be opportune in their policy andbehavior. The case of France shows the danger of neglecting the sourcesof internal strength, while at the same time philandering with ideasand projects of human amelioration. Bismarck and Cavour seized theopportunity of making extremely useful for Germany and Italy theirrelevant and vacillating idealism and the timid absolutism of thethird Napoleon. Great Britain has occupied in this respect a bettersituation than has the Continental Powers. Her insular security made hermore independent of the menaces and complications of foreign politics, and left her free to be measurably liberal at home and immeasurablyimperial abroad. Yet she has made only a circumspect use of her freedom. British liberalism was forged almost exclusively for the British people, and the British peace for colonial subjects. Great Britain could haveafforded better than France to tie its national life to an over-nationalidea, but the only idea in which Britons have really believed was thatof British security, prosperity, and power. In the case of our owncountry the advantages possessed by England have been amplified andextended. The United States was divided from the mainland of Europe notby a channel but by an ocean. Its dimensions were continental ratherthan insular. We were for the most part freed from alien interference, and could, so far as we dared, experiment with political and socialideals. The land was unoccupied, and its settlement offered anunprecedented area and abundance of economic opportunity. After theRevolution the whole political and social organization was renewed, andmade both more serviceable and more flexible. Under such happycircumstances the New World was assuredly destined to become to itsinhabitants a Land of Promise, --a land in which men were offered afairer chance and a better future than the best which the Old Worldcould afford. 

No more explicit expression has ever been given to the way in which theLand of Promise was first conceived by its children than in the "Lettersof an American Farmer. " This book was written by a French immigrant, Hector St. John de Crèvecoeur before the Revolution, and is informed byan intense consciousness of the difference between conditions in the Oldand in the New World. "What, then, is an American, this new man?" asksthe Pennsylvanian farmer. "He is either a European or the descendant ofa European; hence the strange mixture of blood, which you will find inno other country.... 

"He becomes an American by being received in the broad lap of our great_Alma Mater_. Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new raceof men, whose labors and prosperity will one day cause great changes inthe world. Here the rewards of his industry follow with equal steps theprogress of his labor; this labor is founded on the basis of_self-interest_; can it want a stronger allurement? Wives and children, who before in vain demanded a morsel of bread, now fat and frolicsome, gladly help their father to clear those fields, whence exuberant cropsare to arise to feed them all; without any part being claimed either bya despotic prince, a rich abbot, or a mighty lord.... The American is anew man, who acts upon new principles; he must therefore entertain newideas and form new opinions. From involuntary idleness, serviledependence, penury, and useless labor, he has passed to toils of a verydifferent nature rewarded by ample subsistence. This is an American. "

Although the foregoing is one of the first, it is also one of the mostexplicit descriptions of the fundamental American; and it deserves to beanalyzed with some care. According to this French convert the Americanis a man, or the descendant of a man, who has emigrated from Europechiefly because he expects to be better able in the New World to enjoythe fruits of his own labor. The conception implies, consequently, anOld World, in which the ordinary man cannot become independent andprosperous, and, on the other hand, a New World in which economicopportunities are much more abundant and accessible. America has beenpeopled by Europeans primarily because they expected in that country tomake more money more easily. To the European immigrant--that is, to thealiens who have been converted into Americans by the advantages ofAmerican life--the Promise of America has consisted largely in theopportunity which it offered of economic independence and prosperity. Whatever else the better future, of which Europeans anticipate theenjoyment in America, may contain, these converts will considerthemselves cheated unless they are in a measure relieved of the curse ofpoverty. 

This conception of American life and its Promise is as much alive to-dayas it was in 1780. Its expression has no doubt been modified duringfour generations of democratic political independence, but themodification has consisted of an expansion and a development rather thanof a transposition. The native American, like the alien immigrant, conceives the better future which awaits himself and other men inAmerica as fundamentally a future in which economic prosperity will bestill more abundant and still more accessible than it has yet beeneither here or abroad. No alteration or attenuation of this demand hasbeen permitted. With all their professions of Christianity theirnational idea remains thoroughly worldly. They do not want either forthemselves or for their descendants an indefinite future of poverty anddeprivation in this world, redeemed by beatitude in the next. ThePromise, which bulks so large in their patriotic outlook, is a promiseof comfort and prosperity for an ever increasing majority of goodAmericans. At a later stage of their social development they may come tobelieve that they have ordered a larger supply of prosperity than theeconomic factory is capable of producing. Those who are already rich andcomfortable, and who are keenly alive to the difficulty of distributingthese benefits over a larger social area, may come to tolerate the ideathat poverty and want are an essential part of the social order. But asyet this traditional European opinion has found few echoes in America, even among the comfortable and the rich. The general belief still isthat Americans are not destined to renounce, but to enjoy. 

Let it be immediately added, however, that this economic independenceand prosperity has always been absolutely associated in the Americanmind with free political institutions. The "American Farmer" traced thegood fortune of the European immigrant in America, not merely to theabundance of economic opportunity, but to the fact that a ruling classof abbots and lords had no prior claim to a large share of the productsof the soil. He did not attach the name of democracy to the improvedpolitical and social institutions of America, and when the politicaldifferences between Great Britain and her American colonies culminatedin the Revolutionary War, the converted "American Farmer" was filledwith anguish at this violent assertion of the "New Americanism. "Nevertheless he was fully alive to the benefits which the immigrantenjoyed from a larger dose of political and social freedom; and so, ofcourse, have been all the more intelligent of the European converts toAmericanism. A certain number of them, particularly during the earlyyears, came over less for the purpose of making money than for that ofescaping from European political and religious persecution. America hasalways been conventionally conceived, not merely as a land of abundantand accessible economic opportunities, but also as a refuge for theoppressed; and the immigrant ships are crowded both during times ofEuropean famine and during times of political revolution andpersecution. 

Inevitably, however, this aspect of the American Promise has undergonecertain important changes since the establishment of our nationalindependence. When the colonists succeeded in emancipating themselvesfrom political allegiance to Great Britain, they were confronted by thetask of organizing a stable and efficient government without encroachingon the freedom, which was even at that time traditionally associatedwith American life. The task was by no means an easy one, and requiredfor its performance the application of other political principles thanthat of freedom. The men who were responsible for this great work werenot, perhaps, entirely candid in recognizing the profound modificationsin their traditional ideas which their constructive political work hadimplied; but they were at all events fully aware of the great importanceof their addition to the American idea. That idea, while not ceasing tobe at bottom economic, became more than ever political and social in itsmeaning and contents. The Land of Freedom became in the course of timealso the Land of Equality. The special American political system, theconstruction of which was predicted in the "Farmer's" assertion of thenecessary novelty of American modes of thought and action, was madeexplicitly, if not uncompromisingly, democratic; and the success of thisdemocratic political system was indissolubly associated in the Americanmind with the persistence of abundant and widely distributed economicprosperity. Our democratic institutions became in a sense the guaranteethat prosperity would continue to be abundant and accessible. In casethe majority of good Americans were not prosperous, there would be gravereasons for suspecting that our institutions were not doing their duty. 

The more consciously democratic Americans became, however, the less theywere satisfied with a conception of the Promised Land, which went nofarther than a pervasive economic prosperity guaranteed by freeinstitutions. The amelioration promised to aliens and to futureAmericans was to possess its moral and social aspects. The implicationwas, and still is, that by virtue of the more comfortable and lesstrammeled lives which Americans were enabled to lead, they wouldconstitute a better society and would become in general a worthier setof men. The confidence which American institutions placed in theAmerican citizen was considered equivalent to a greater faith in theexcellence of human nature. In our favored land political liberty andeconomic opportunity were by a process of natural education inevitablymaking for individual and social amelioration. In Europe the people didnot have a fair chance. Population increased more quickly than economicopportunities, and the opportunities which did exist were largelymonopolized by privileged classes. Power was lodged in the hands of afew men, whose interest depended upon keeping the people in a conditionof economic and political servitude; and in this way a divorce wascreated between individual interest and social stability and welfare. The interests of the privileged rulers demanded the perpetuation ofunjust institutions. The interest of the people demanded a revolutionaryupheaval. In the absence of such a revolution they had no sufficientinducement to seek their own material and moral improvement. The theorywas proclaimed and accepted as a justification for this system ofpopular oppression that men were not to be trusted to take care ofthemselves--that they could be kept socially useful only by the severestmeasures of moral, religious, and political discipline. The theory ofthe American democracy and its practice was proclaimed to be theantithesis of this European theory and practice. The people were to betrusted rather than suspected and disciplined. They must be tied totheir country by the strong bond of self-interest. Give them a fairchance, and the natural goodness of human nature would do the rest. Individual and public interest will, on the whole, coincide, provided noindividuals are allowed to have special privileges. Thus the Americansystem will be predestined to success by its own adequacy, and itssuccess will constitute an enormous stride towards human amelioration. Just because our system is at bottom a thorough test of the ability ofhuman nature to respond admirably to a fair chance, the issue of theexperiment is bound to be of more than national importance. The Americansystem stands for the highest hope of an excellent worldly life thatmankind has yet ventured, --the hope that men can be improved withoutbeing fettered, that they can be saved without even vicariously beingnailed to the cross. 

Such are the claims advanced on behalf of the American system; andwithin certain limits this system has made good. Americans have beenmore than usually prosperous. They have been more than usually free. They have, on the whole, made their freedom and prosperity contribute toa higher level of individual and social excellence. Most assuredly theaverage Americanized American is neither a more intelligent, a wiser, nor a better man than the average European; but he is likely to be amore energetic and hopeful one. Out of a million well-establishedAmericans, taken indiscriminately from all occupations and conditions, compared to a corresponding assortment of Europeans, a larger proportionof the former will be leading alert, active, and useful lives. Within agiven social area there will be a smaller amount of social wreckage anda larger amount of wholesome and profitable achievement. The mass of theAmerican people is, on the whole, more deeply stirred, more thoroughlyawake, more assertive in their personal demands, and more confident ofsatisfying them. In a word, they are more alive, and they must becredited with the moral and social benefit attaching to a larger amountof vitality. 

Furthermore, this greater individual vitality, although intimatelyconnected with the superior agricultural and industrial opportunities ofa new country, has not been due exclusively to such advantages. Undoubtedly the vast areas of cheap and fertile land which have beencontinuously available for settlement have contributed, not only to theabundance of American prosperity, but also to the formation of Americancharacter and institutions; and undoubtedly many of the economic andpolitical evils which are now becoming offensively obtrusive aredirectly or indirectly derived from the gradual monopolization ofcertain important economic opportunities. Nevertheless, theseopportunities could never have been converted so quickly intosubstantial benefits had it not been for our more democratic politicaland social forms. A privileged class does not secure itself in theenjoyment of its advantages merely by legal intrenchments. It dependsquite as much upon disqualifying the "lower classes" from utilizingtheir opportunities by a species of social inhibition. The rail-splittercan be so easily encouraged to believe that rail-splitting is hisvocation. The tragedy in the life of Mr. J. M. Barrie's "AdmirableCrichton" was not due to any legal prohibition of his conversion inEngland, as on the tropic island, into a veritable chief, but that onEnglish soil he did not in his own soul want any such elevation anddistinction. His very loyalty to the forms and fabric of English lifekept him fatuously content with the mean truckling and meanerdomineering of his position of butler. On the other hand, the loyalty ofan American to the American idea would tend to make him aggressive andself-confident. Our democratic prohibition of any but occasional socialdistinctions and our democratic dislike to any suggestion of authenticsocial inferiority have contributed as essentially to the fluid andelastic substance of American life as have its abundant and accessibleeconomic opportunities. 

The increased momentum of American life, both in its particles and itsmass, unquestionably has a considerable moral and social value. It isthe beginning, the only possible beginning, of a better life for thepeople as individuals and for society. So long as the great majority ofthe poor in any country are inert and are laboring without any hope ofsubstantial rewards in this world, the whole associated life of thatcommunity rests on an equivocal foundation. Its moral and social orderis tied to an economic system which starves and mutilates the greatmajority of the population, and under such conditions its religionnecessarily becomes a spiritual drug, administered for the purpose ofsubduing the popular discontent and relieving the popular misery. Theonly way the associated life of such a community can be radicallyimproved is by the leavening of the inert popular mass. Their wants mustbe satisfied, and must be sharpened and increased with the habit ofsatisfaction. During the past hundred years every European state hasmade a great stride in the direction of arousing its poorer citizens tobe more wholesomely active, discontented, and expectant; but our owncountry has succeeded in traveling farther in this direction than hasany other, and it may well be proud of its achievement. That theAmerican political and economic system has accomplished so much onbehalf of the ordinary man does constitute the fairest hope that menhave been justified in entertaining of a better worldly order; and anyhigher social achievement, which America may hereafter reach, mustdepend upon an improved perpetuation of this process. The mass ofmankind must be aroused to still greater activity by a still moreabundant satisfaction of their needs, and by a consequent increase oftheir aggressive discontent. 

The most discriminating appreciation, which I have ever read, of thesocial value of American national achievement has been written by Mr. John B. Crozier; and the importance of the matter is such that it willbe well to quote it at length. Says Mr. Crozier in his chapter on"Reconstruction in America, " in the third volume of his "History ofIntellectual Development": "There [in America] a natural equality ofsentiment, springing out of and resting on a broad equality of materialand social conditions, has been the heritage of the people from theearliest times.... This broad natural equality of sentiment, rooted inequal material opportunities, equal education, equal laws, equalopportunities, and equal access to all positions of honor and trust, hasjust sufficient inequality mixed with it--in the shape of greater orless mental endowments, higher or lower degrees of culture, larger orsmaller material possessions, and so on--to keep it sweet and human;while at the same time it is all so gently graded, and marked bytransitions so easy and natural, that no gap was anywhere to bediscovered on which to found an order of privilege or caste. Now anequality like this, with the erectness, independence, energy, andinitiative it brings with it, in men, sprung from the loins of animperial race is a possession, not for a nation only, but forcivilization itself and for humanity. It is the distinct raising of theentire body of a people to a higher level, and so brings civilization astage nearer its goal. It is the first successful attempt in recordedhistory to get a healthy, natural equality which should reach down tothe foundations of the state and to the great masses of men; and in itsresults corresponds to what in other lands (excepting, perhaps, inluxury alone) has been attained only by the few, --the successful and theruling spirits. To lose it, therefore, to barter it or give it away, would be in the language of Othello 'such deep damnation that nothingelse could match, ' and would be an irreparable loss to the world and tocivilization. "

Surely no nation can ask for a higher and more generous tribute thanthat which Mr. Crozier renders to America in the foregoing quotation, and its value is increased by the source from which it comes. It iswritten by a man who, as a Canadian, has had the opportunity of knowingAmerican life well without being biased in its favor, and who, as thehistorian of the intellectual development of our race, has made anexhaustive study of the civilizations both of the ancient and the modernworlds. Nothing can be soberly added to it on behalf of Americannational achievement, but neither should it be diminished by anyimportant idea and phrase. The American economic, political, and socialorganization has given to its citizens the benefits of materialprosperity, political liberty, and a wholesome natural equality; andthis achievement is a gain, not only to Americans, but to the world andto civilization. 

III

HOW THE PROMISE IS TO BE REALIZED

In the preceding section I have been seeking to render justice to theactual achievements of the American nation. A work of manifestindividual and social value has been wrought; and this work, not onlyexplains the expectant popular outlook towards the future, but itpartially determines the character as distinguished from the continuedfulfillment of the American national Promise. The better future, whatever else it may bring, must bring at any rate a continuation of thegood things of the past. The drama of its fulfillment must find anappropriate setting in the familiar American social and economicscenery. No matter how remote the end may be, no matter what unfamiliarsacrifices may eventually be required on its behalf, the substance ofthe existing achievement must constitute a veritable beginning, becauseon no other condition can the attribution of a peculiar Promise toAmerican life find a specific warrant. On no other condition would ournational Promise constitute more than an admirable but irrelevant moraland social aspiration. 

The moral and social aspiration proper to American life is, of course, the aspiration vaguely described by the word democratic; and the actualachievement of the American nation points towards an adequate andfruitful definition of the democratic ideal. Americans are usuallysatisfied by a most inadequate verbal description of democracy, buttheir national achievement implies one which is much more comprehensiveand formative. In order to be true to their past, the increasing comfortand economic independence of an ever increasing proportion of thepopulation must be secured, and it must be secured by a combination ofindividual effort and proper political organization. Above all, however, this economic and political system must be made to secure results ofmoral and social value. It is the seeking of such results which convertsdemocracy from a political system into a constructive social ideal; andthe more the ideal significance of the American national Promise isasserted and emphasized, the greater will become the importance ofsecuring these moral and social benefits. 

The fault in the vision of our national future possessed by the ordinaryAmerican does not consist in the expectation of some continuity ofachievement. It consists rather in the expectation that the familiarbenefits will continue to accumulate automatically. In his mind theideal Promise is identified with the processes and conditions whichhitherto have very much simplified its fulfillment, and he failssufficiently to realize that the conditions and processes are one thingand the ideal Promise quite another. Moreover, these underlying socialand economic conditions are themselves changing, in such wise thathereafter the ideal Promise, instead of being automatically fulfilled, may well be automatically stifled. For two generations and more theAmerican people were, from the economic point of view, most happilysituated. They were able, in a sense, to slide down hill into the valleyof fulfillment. Economic conditions were such that, given a fair start, they could scarcely avoid reaching a desirable goal. But such is nolonger the case. Economic conditions have been profoundly modified, andAmerican political and social problems have been modified with them. ThePromise of American life must depend less than it did upon the virginwilderness and the Atlantic Ocean, for the virgin wilderness hasdisappeared, and the Atlantic Ocean has become merely a big channel. Thesame results can no longer be achieved by the same easy methods. Uglyobstacles have jumped into view, and ugly obstacles are peculiarlydangerous to a person who is sliding down hill. The man who isclambering up hill is in a much better position to evade or overcomethem. Americans will possess a safer as well as a worthier vision oftheir national Promise as soon as they give it a house on a hill-toprather than in a valley. 

The very genuine experience upon which American optimistic fatalismrests, is equivalent, because of its limitations, to a dangerousinexperience, and of late years an increasing number of Americans havebeen drawing this inference. They have been coming to see themselvesmore as others see them; and as an introduction to a consideration ofthis more critical frame of mind, I am going to quote anotherforeigner's view of American life, --the foreigner in this case being anEnglishman and writing in 1893. 

"The American note, " says Mr. James Muirhead in his "Land of Contrasts, ""includes a sense of illimitable expansion and possibility, an almostchildlike confidence in human ability and fearlessness of both thepresent and the future, a wider realization of human brotherhood thanhas yet existed, a greater theoretical willingness to judge by theindividual than by the class, a breezy indifference to authority and apositive predilection for innovation, a marked alertness of mind, and amanifold variety of interest--above all, an inextinguishable hopefulnessand courage. It is easy to lay one's finger in America upon almost everyone of the great defects of civilization--even those defects which arespecially characteristic of the civilization of the Old World. TheUnited States cannot claim to be exempt from manifestations of economicslavery, of grinding the faces of the poor, of exploitation of the weak, of unfair distribution of wealth, of unjust monopoly, of unequal laws, of industrial and commercial chicanery, of disgraceful ignorance, ofeconomic fallacies, of public corruption, of interested legislation, ofwant of public spirit, of vulgar boasting and chauvinism, of snobbery, of class prejudice, of respect of persons, and of a preference of thematerial over the spiritual. In a word, America has not attained, ornearly attained, perfection. But below and behind, and beyond all itsweakness and evils, there is the grand fact of a noble national theoryfounded on reason and conscience. " The reader will remark in theforegoing quotation that Mr. Muirhead is equally emphatic in hisapproval and in his disapproval. He generously recognizes almost as muchthat is good about Americans and their ways as our most vivaciouspatriotic orators would claim, while at the same time he has marshaledan army of abuses and sins which sound like an echo of the pages of the_London Saturday Review_. In the end he applies a friendly dash ofwhitewash by congratulating us on the "grand fact of our noble nationaltheory, " but to a discerning mind the consolation is not very consoling. The trouble is that the sins with which America is charged by Mr. Muirhead are flagrant violations of our noble national theory. So far ashis charges are true, they are a denial that the American political andeconomic organization is accomplishing the results which its traditionalclaims require. If, as Mr. Muirhead charges, Americans permit theexistence of economic slavery, if they grind the face of the poor, ifthey exploit the weak and distribute wealth unjustly, if they allowmonopolies to prevail and laws to be unequal, if they are disgracefullyignorant, politically corrupt, commercially unscrupulous, sociallysnobbish, vulgarly boastful, and morally coarse, --if the substance ofthe foregoing indictment is really true, why, the less that is saidabout a noble national theory, the better. A man who is a sturdy sinnerall the week hardly improves his moral standing by attending church onSunday and professing a noble Christian theory of life. There mustsurely be some better way of excusing our sins than by raising aloft anoble theory of which these sins are a glaring violation. 

I have quoted from Mr. Muirhead, not because his antitheticcharacterization of American life is very illuminating, but because ofthe precise terms of his charges against America. His indictment ispractically equivalent to the assertion that the American system is not, or at least is no longer, achieving as much as has been claimed on itsbehalf. A democratic system may permit undefiled the existence of manysins and abuses, but it cannot permit the exploitation of the ordinaryman by means of unjust laws and institutions. Neither can thisindictment be dismissed without argument. When Mr. Muirhead's book waswritten sixteen years ago, the majority of good Americans wouldassuredly have read the charge with an incredulous smile; but in theyear 1909 they might behave differently. The sins of which Mr. Muirheadaccused Americans sixteen years ago are substantially the sins of whichto-day they are accusing themselves--or rather one another. A numerousand powerful group of reformers has been collecting whose wholepolitical policy and action is based on the conviction that the "commonpeople" have not been getting the Square Deal to which they are entitledunder the American system; and these reformers are carrying with them aconstantly increasing body of public opinion. A considerable proportionof the American people is beginning to exhibit economic and political, as well as personal, discontent. A generation ago the implication wasthat if a man remained poor and needy, his poverty was his own fault, because the American system was giving all its citizens a fair chance. Now, however, the discontented poor are beginning to charge theirpoverty to an unjust political and economic organization, and reformingagitators do not hesitate to support them in this contention. Manifestlya threatened obstacle has been raised against the anticipatedrealization of our national Promise. Unless the great majority ofAmericans not only have, but believe they have, a fair chance, thebetter American future will be dangerously compromised. 

The conscious recognition of grave national abuses casts a deep shadowacross the traditional American patriotic vision. The sincere and candidreformer can no longer consider the national Promise as destined toautomatic fulfillment. The reformers themselves are, no doubt, far frombelieving that whatever peril there is cannot be successfully averted. They make a point of being as patriotically prophetic as the most"old-fashioned Democrat. " They proclaim even more loudly theirconviction of an indubitable and a beneficent national future. But theydo not and cannot believe that this future will take care of itself. Asreformers they are bound to assert that the national body requires forthe time being a good deal of medical attendance, and many of themanticipate that even after the doctors have discontinued their dailyvisits the patient will still need the supervision of a sanitaryspecialist. He must be persuaded to behave so that he will not easilyfall ill again, and so that his health will be permanently improved. Consequently, just in so far as reformers are reformers they are obligedto abandon the traditional American patriotic fatalism. The nationalPromise has been transformed into a closer equivalent of a nationalpurpose, the fulfillment of which is a matter of conscious work. 

The transformation of the old sense of a glorious national destiny intothe sense of a serious national purpose will inevitably tend to make thepopular realization of the Promise of American life both more explicitand more serious. As long as Americans believed they were able tofulfill a noble national Promise merely by virtue of maintaining intacta set of political institutions and by the vigorous individual pursuitof private ends, their allegiance to their national fulfillment remainedmore a matter of words than of deeds; but now that they are beingaroused from their patriotic slumber, the effect is inevitably todisentangle the national idea and to give it more dignity. Theredemption of the national Promise has become a cause for which the goodAmerican must fight, and the cause for which a man fights is a causewhich he more than ever values. The American idea is no longer to bepropagated merely by multiplying the children of the West and bygranting ignorant aliens permission to vote. Like all sacred causes, itmust be propagated by the Word and by that right arm of the Word, whichis the Sword. 

The more enlightened reformers are conscious of the additional dignityand value which the popularity of reform has bestowed upon the Americanidea, but they still fail to realize the deeper implications of theirown programme. In abandoning the older conception of an automaticfulfillment of our national destiny, they have abandoned more of thetraditional American point of view than they are aware. The traditionalAmerican optimistic fatalism was not of accidental origin, and it cannotbe abandoned without involving in its fall some other importantingredients in the accepted American tradition. Not only was itdependent on economic conditions which prevailed until comparativelyrecent times, but it has been associated with certain erroneous buthighly cherished political theories. It has been wrought into the fabricof our popular economic and political ideas to such an extent that itsoverthrow necessitates a partial revision of some of the most importantarticles in the traditional American creed. 

The extent and the character of this revision may be inferred from abrief consideration of the effect upon the substance of our nationalPromise of an alteration in its proposed method of fulfillment. Thesubstance of our national Promise has consisted, as we have seen, of animproving popular economic condition, guaranteed by democratic politicalinstitutions, and resulting in moral and social amelioration. Thesemanifold benefits were to be obtained merely by liberating theenlightened self-interest of the American people. The beneficent resultfollowed inevitably from the action of wholly selfish motives--provided, of course, the democratic political system of equal rights wasmaintained in its integrity. The fulfillment of the American Promise wasconsidered inevitable because it was based upon a combination ofself-interest and the natural goodness of human nature. On the otherhand, if the fulfillment of our national Promise can no longer beconsidered inevitable, if it must be considered as equivalent to aconscious national purpose instead of an inexorable national destiny, the implication necessarily is that the trust reposed in individualself-interest has been in some measure betrayed. No preëstablishedharmony can then exist between the free and abundant satisfaction ofprivate needs and the accomplishment of a morally and socially desirableresult. The Promise of American life is to be fulfilled--not merely by amaximum amount of economic freedom, but by a certain measure ofdiscipline; not merely by the abundant satisfaction of individualdesires, but by a large measure of individual subordination andself-denial. And this necessity of subordinating the satisfaction ofindividual desires to the fulfillment of a national purpose is attachedparticularly to the absorbing occupation of the American people, --theoccupation, viz. : of accumulating wealth. The automatic fulfillment ofthe American national Promise is to be abandoned, if at all, preciselybecause the traditional American confidence in individual freedom hasresulted in a morally and socially undesirable distribution of wealth. 

In making the concluding statement of the last paragraph I am venturing, of course, upon very debatable ground. Neither can I attempt in thisimmediate connection to offer any justification for the statement whichmight or should be sufficient to satisfy a stubborn skeptic. I must becontent for the present with the bare assertion that the prevailingabuses and sins, which have made reform necessary, are all of themassociated with the prodigious concentration of wealth, and of the powerexercised by wealth, in the hands of a few men. I am far from believingthat this concentration of economic power is wholly an undesirablething, and I am also far from believing that the men in whose hands thispower is concentrated deserve, on the whole, any exceptional moralreprobation for the manner in which it has been used. In certainrespects they have served their country well, and in almost everyrespect their moral or immoral standards are those of the great majorityof their fellow-countrymen. But it is none the less true that thepolitical corruption, the unwise economic organization, and the legalsupport afforded to certain economic privileges are all under existingconditions due to the malevolent social influence of individual andincorporated American wealth; and it is equally true that these abuses, and the excessive "money power" with which they are associated, haveoriginated in the peculiar freedom which the American tradition andorganization have granted to the individual. Up to a certain point thatfreedom has been and still is beneficial. Beyond that point it is notmerely harmful; it is by way of being fatal. Efficient regulation theremust be; and it must be regulation which will strike, not at thesymptoms of the evil, but at its roots. The existing concentration ofwealth and financial power in the hands of a few irresponsible men isthe inevitable outcome of the chaotic individualism of our political andeconomic organization, while at the same time it is inimical todemocracy, because it tends to erect political abuses and socialinequalities into a system. The inference which follows may bedisagreeable, but it is not to be escaped. In becoming responsible forthe subordination of the individual to the demand of a dominant andconstructive national purpose, the American state will in effect bemaking itself responsible for a morally and socially desirabledistribution of wealth. 

The consequences, then, of converting our American national destiny intoa national purpose are beginning to be revolutionary. When the Promiseof American life is conceived as a national ideal, whose fulfillment isa matter of artful and laborious work, the effect thereof issubstantially to identify the national purpose with the social problem. What the American people of the present and the future have really beenpromised by our patriotic prophecies is an attempt to solve thatproblem. They have been promised on American soil comfort, prosperity, and the opportunity for self-improvement; and the lesson of the existingcrisis is that such a Promise can never be redeemed by an indiscriminateindividual scramble for wealth. The individual competition, even when itstarts under fair conditions and rules, results, not only, as it should, in the triumph of the strongest, but in the attempt to perpetuate thevictory; and it is this attempt which must be recognized and forestalledin the interest of the American national purpose. The way to realize apurpose is, not to leave it to chance, but to keep it loyally in mind, and adopt means proper to the importance and the difficulty of the task. No voluntary association of individuals, resourceful and disinterestedthough they be, is competent to assume the responsibility. The problembelongs to the American national democracy, and its solution must beattempted chiefly by means of official national action. 

Neither can its attempted solution be escaped. When they are confrontedby the individual sacrifices which the fulfillment of their nationalPromise demands, American political leaders will find many excuses forignoring the responsibility thereby implied; but the difficulty of suchan attempted evasion will consist in the reënforcement of the historicaltradition by a logical and a practical necessity. The American problemis the social problem partly because the social problem is thedemocratic problem. American political and social leaders will find thatin a democracy the problem cannot be evaded. The American people have noirremediable political grievances. No good American denies thedesirability of popular sovereignty and of a government which shouldsomehow represent the popular will. While our national institutions maynot be a perfect embodiment of these doctrines, a decisive and aresolute popular majority has the power to alter American institutionsand give them a more immediately representative character. Existingpolitical evils and abuses are serious enough; but inasmuch as they havecome into being, not against the will, but with the connivance of theAmerican people, the latter are responsible for their persistence. Inthe long run, consequently, the ordinary American will have nothingirremediable to complain about except economic and social inequalities. In Europe such will not be the case. The several European peoples have, and will continue to have, political grievances, because such grievancesare the inevitable consequence of their national history and theirinternational situation; and as long as these grievances remain, themore difficult social problem will be subordinated to an agitation forpolitical emancipation. But the American people, having achieveddemocratic institutions, have nothing to do but to turn them to goodaccount. In so far as the social problem is a real problem and theeconomic grievance a real grievance, they are bound under the Americanpolitical system to come eventually to the surface and to demand expressand intelligent consideration. A democratic ideal makes the socialproblem inevitable and its attempted solution indispensable. 

I am fully aware, as already intimated, that the forgoing interpretationof the Promise of American life will seem fantastic and obnoxious to thegreat majority of Americans, and I am far from claiming that any reasonsas yet alleged afford a sufficient justification for such a radicaltransformation of the traditional national policy and democratic creed. All that can be claimed is that if a democratic ideal makes an expressconsideration of the social problem inevitable, it is of the firstimportance for Americans to realize this truth and to understand thereasons for it. Furthermore, the assumption is worth making, in case thetraditional American system is breaking down, because a more highlysocialized democracy is the only practical substitute on the part ofconvinced democrats for an excessively individualized democracy. Ofcourse, it will be claimed that the traditional system is not breakingdown, and again no absolute proof of the breakdown has been or can bealleged. Nevertheless, the serious nature of contemporary Americanpolitical and economic symptoms at least pointedly suggests theexistence of some radical disease, and when one assumes such to be thecase, one cannot be accused of borrowing trouble, I shall, consequently, start from such an assumption, and make an attempt to explaincontemporary American problems as in part the result of the practice ofan erroneous democratic theory. The attempt will necessarily involve abrief review of our political and economic history, undertaken for thepurpose of tracing the traditional ideas of their origin and testingthem by their performances. There will follow a detailed examination ofcurrent political and economic problems and conditions--considered inrelation both to the American democratic tradition and to the proposedrevision thereof. In view of the increasing ferment of Americanpolitical and economic thought, no apology is necessary for submittingour traditional ideas and practices to an examination from anuntraditional point of view. I need scarcely add that the untraditionalpoint of view will contain little or no original matter. The onlynovelty such an inquiry can claim is the novelty of applying ideas, longfamiliar to foreign political thinkers, to the subject-matter ofAmerican life. When applied to American life, this group of ideasassumes a somewhat new complexion and significance; and the promise ofsuch a small amount of novelty will, I trust, tempt even a disapprovingreader to follow somewhat farther the course of the argument. 

CHAPTER II

I

THE FEDERALISTS AND THE REPUBLICANS

The purpose of the following review of American political ideas andpractices is, it must be premised, critical rather than narrative orexpository. I am not seeking to justify a political and economic theoryby an appeal to historical facts. I am seeking, on the contrary, toplace some kind of an estimate and interpretation upon Americanpolitical ideas and achievements; and this estimate and interpretationis determined chiefly by a preconceived ideal. The acceptability of suchan estimate and interpretation will, of course, depend at bottom uponthe number of important facts which it explains and the number which iteither neglects or distorts. No doubt, certain omissions and distortionsare inevitable in an attempt of this kind; but I need scarcely add thatthe greatest care has been taken to avoid them. In case the proposedconception of the Promise of American life cannot be applied to ourpolitical and economic history without essential perversion, it mustobviously fall to the ground; and as a matter of fact, the ideal itselfhas been sensibly modified during the course of this attempt to give itan historical application. In spite of all these modifications itremains, however, an extremely controversial review. Our political andeconomic past is, in a measure, challenged in order to justify ourpolitical and social future. The values placed upon many politicalideas, tendencies, and achievements differ radically from the valuesplaced upon them either by their originators and partisans or in somecases by the majority of American historians. The review, consequently, will meet with a far larger portion of instinctive opposition anddistrust than it will of acquiescence. The whole traditional set ofvalues which it criticises is almost as much alive to-day as it was twogenerations ago, and it forms a background to the political faith ofthe great majority of Americans. Whatever favor a radical criticism canobtain, it must win on its merits both as an adequate interpretation ofour political past and as an outlook towards the solution of our presentand future political and economic problems. 

The material for this critical estimate must be sought, not so much inthe events of our national career, as in the ideas which have influencedits course. Closely as these ideas are associated with the actual courseof American development, their meaning and their remoter tendencies havenot been wholly realized therein, because beyond a certain point noattempt was made to think out these ideas candidly and consistently. Forone generation American statesmen were vigorous and fruitful politicalthinkers; but the time soon came when Americans ceased to criticisetheir own ideas, and since that time the meaning of many of ourfundamental national conceptions has been partly obscured, as well aspartly expressed, by the facts of our national growth. Consequently wemust go behind these facts and scrutinize, with more caution than isusually considered necessary, the adequacy and consistency of theunderlying ideas. And I believe that the results of such a scrutiny willbe very illuminating. It will be found that from the start there hasbeen one group of principles at work which have made for Americannational fulfillment, and another group of principles which has made forAmerican national distraction; and that these principles are as muchalive to-day as they were when Jefferson wrote the Kentucky resolutionsor when Jackson, at the dinner of the Jefferson Club, toasted thepreservation of the Union. But while these warring principles alwayshave been, and still are, alive, they have never, in my opinion, beenproperly discriminated one from another; and until such a discriminationis made, the lesson cannot be profitably applied to the solution of ourcontemporary national problems. 

All our histories recognize, of course, the existence from the verybeginning of our national career of two different and, in some respects, antagonistic groups of political ideas, --the ideas which wererepresented by Jefferson, and the ideas which were represented byHamilton. It is very generally understood, also, that neither theJeffersonian nor the Hamiltonian doctrine was entirely adequate, andthat in order to reach a correct understanding of the really formativeconstituent in the complex of American national life, a combination mustbe made of both Republicanism and Federalism. But while the necessity ofsuch a combination is fully realized, I do not believe that it has everbeen mixed in just the proper proportions. We are content to say withWebster that the prosperity of American institutions depends upon theunity and inseparability of individual and local liberties and anational union. We are content to declare that the United States mustremain somehow a free and a united country, because there can be nocomplete unity without liberty and no salutary liberty outside of aUnion. But the difficulties with this phrase, its implications andconsequences, we do not sufficiently consider. It is enough that we havefound an optimistic formula wherewith to unite the divergent aspects ofthe Republican, and Federalist doctrines. 

We must begin, consequently, with critical accounts of the ideas both ofJefferson and of Hamilton; and we must seek to discover wherein each ofthese sets of ideas was right, and wherein each was wrong; in whatproportions they were subsequently combined in order to form "our noblenational theory, " and what were the advantages, the limitations, and theeffects of this combination. I shall not disguise the fact that, on thewhole, my own preferences are on the side of Hamilton rather than ofJefferson. He was the sound thinker, the constructive statesman, thecandid and honorable, if erring, gentleman; while Jefferson was theamiable enthusiast, who understood his fellow-countrymen better andtrusted them more than his rival, but who was incapable either ofuniting with his fine phrases a habit of candid and honorable privatedealing or of embodying those phrases in a set of efficientinstitutions. But although Hamilton is much the finer man and much thesounder thinker and statesman, there were certain limitations in hisideas and sympathies the effects of which have been almost as baleful asthe effects of Jefferson's intellectual superficiality and insincerity. He perverted the American national idea almost as much as Jeffersonperverted the American democratic idea, and the proper relation of thesetwo fundamental conceptions one to another cannot be completelyunderstood until this double perversion is corrected. 

To make Hamilton and Jefferson exclusively responsible for this doubleperversion is, however, by no means fair. The germs of it are to befound in the political ideas and prejudices with which the Americanpeople emerged from their successful Revolutionary War. At that time, indeed, the opposition between the Republican and the Federalistdoctrines had not become definite and acute; and it is fortunate thatsuch was the case, because if the opponents of an efficient Federalconstitution had been organized and had been possessed of the fullcourage and consciousness of their convictions, that instrument wouldnever have been accepted, or it would have been accepted only in a muchmore mutilated and enfeebled condition. Nevertheless, the differentpolitical points of view which afterwards developed into HamiltonianFederalism and Jeffersonian Republicanism were latent in the interestsand opinions of the friends and of the opponents of an efficient Federalgovernment; and these interests and opinions were the natural product ofcontemporary American economic and political conditions. 

Both Federalism and anti-Federalism were the mixed issue of an interestand a theory. The interest which lay behind Federalism was that ofwell-to-do citizens in a stable political and social order, and thisinterest aroused them to favor and to seek some form of politicalorganization which was capable of protecting their property andpromoting its interest. They were the friends of liberty because theywere in a position to benefit largely by the possession of liberty; andthey wanted a strong central government because only by such means couldtheir liberties, which consisted fundamentally in the ability to enjoyand increase their property, be guaranteed. Their interests werethreatened by the disorganized state governments in two different butconnected respects. These governments did not seem able to secure eitherinternal order or external peace. In their domestic policy the statesthreatened to become the prey of a factious radical democracy, and theirrelations one to another were by way of being constantly embroiled. Unless something could be done, it looked as if they would drift in acondition either of internecine warfare without profit or, at best, ofpeace without security. A centralized and efficient government would doaway with both of these threats. It would prevent or curb all but themost serious sectional disputes, while at the same time it would providea much stronger guarantee for internal political order and socialstability. An equally strong interest lay at the roots ofanti-Federalism and it had its theory, though this theory was lessmature and definite. Behind the opposition to a centralized governmentwere the interests and the prejudices of the mass of the Americanpeople, --the people who were, comparatively speaking, lacking in money, in education, and in experience. The Revolutionary War, while notexclusively the work of the popular element in the community, hadundoubtedly increased considerably its power and influence. A largeproportion of the well-to-do colonial Americans had been active orpassive Tories, and had either been ruined or politically disqualifiedby the Revolution. Their successful opponents reorganized the stategovernments in a radical democratic spirit. The power of the state wasusually concentrated in the hands of a single assembly, to whom both theexecutive and the courts were subservient; and this method oforganization was undoubtedly designed to give immediate and completeeffect to the will of a popular majority. The temper of the localdemocracies, which, for the most part, controlled the state governments, was insubordinate, factious, and extremely independent. They dislikedthe idea of a centralized Federal government because a supreme powerwould be thereby constituted which could interfere with the freedom oflocal public opinion and thwart its will. No less than the Federalists, they believed in freedom; but the kind of freedom they wanted, wasfreedom from anything but local interference. The ordinary Americandemocrat felt that the power of _his_ personality and _his_ point ofview would be diminished by the efficient centralization of politicalauthority. He had no definite intention of using the democratic stategovernments for anti-social or revolutionary purposes, but he wasself-willed and unruly in temper; and his savage treatment of the Toriesduring and after the Revolution had given him a taste of the sweets ofconfiscation. The spirit of his democracy was self-reliant, undisciplined, suspicious of authority, equalitarian, andindividualistic. 

With all their differences, however, the Federalists and their opponentshad certain common opinions and interests, and it was these commonopinions and interests which prevented the split from becomingirremediable. The men of both parties were individualist in spirit, andthey were chiefly interested in the great American task of improvingtheir own condition in this world. They both wanted a government whichwould secure them freedom of action for this purpose. The differencebetween them was really less a difference of purpose than of the meanswhereby a purpose should be accomplished. The Federalists, representingas they did chiefly the people of wealth and education, demanded agovernment adequate to protect existing propertied rights; but they werenot seeking any exceptional privileges--except those traditionallyassociated with the ownership of private property. The anti-Federalists, on the other hand, having less to protect and more to acquire, insistedrather upon being let alone than in being protected. They expressedthemselves sometimes in such an extremely insubordinate manner as almostto threaten social disorder, but were very far from being fundamentallyanti-social in interest or opinion. They were all by way of beingproperty-owners, and they all expected to benefit by freedom frominterference in the acquisition of wealth. It was this community ofinterest and point of view which prepared the way, not only for theadoption of the Constitution, but for the loyalty it subsequentlyinspired in the average American. 

It remains none the less true, however, that the division of interestand the controversy thereby provoked was sharp and brought about certainvery unfortunate consequences. Inasmuch as the anti-Federalists wereunruly democrats and were suspicious of any efficient politicalauthority, the Federalists came, justly or unjustly, to identify bothanti-Federalism and democracy with political disorder and socialinstability. They came, that is, to have much the same opinion ofradical democracy as an English peer might have had at the time of theFrench Revolution; and this prejudice, which was unjust but notunnatural, was very influential in determining the character of theFederal Constitution. That instrument was framed, not as the expressionof a democratic creed, but partly as a legal fortress against thepossible errors and failings of democracy. The federalist point of viewresembled that of the later constitutional liberals in France. Thepolitical ideal and benefit which they prized most highly was that ofliberty, and the Constitution was framed chiefly for the purpose ofsecuring liberty from any possible dangers. Popular liberty must beprotected against possible administrative or executive tyranny by freerepresentative institutions. Individual liberty must be protectedagainst the action of an unjust majority by the strongest possible legalguarantees. And above all the general liberties of the community mustnot be endangered by any inefficiency of the government as a whole. Theonly method whereby these complicated and, in a measure, conflictingends could be attained was by a system of checks and balances, whichwould make the executive, legislative, and judicial departments of thegovernment independent of one another, while at the same time endowingeach department with all the essentials of efficient action within itsown sphere. But such a method of political organization was calculatedto thwart the popular will, just in so far as that will did not conformto what the Federalists believed to be the essentials of a stablepolitical and social order. It was antagonistic to democracy as thatword was then, and is still to a large extent, understood. 

The extent of this antagonism to democracy, if not in intention at leastin effect, is frequently over-rated. The antagonism depends upon theidentification of democracy with a political organization for expressingimmediately and completely the will of the majority--whatever that willmay be; and such a conception of democracy contains only part of thetruth. Nevertheless the founders of the Constitution did succeed ingiving some effect to their distrust of the democratic principle, nomatter how conservatively defined; and this was at once a grave error ontheir part and a grave misfortune for the American state. Founded as thenational government is, partly on a distrust of the American democracy, it has always tended to make the democracy somewhat suspicious of thenational government. This mutual suspicion, while it has been limited inscope and diminished by the action of time, constitutes a manifestimpediment to the efficient action of the American political system. Thegreat lesson of American political experience, as we shall see, israther that of interdependence than of incompatibility between anefficient national organization and a group of radical democraticinstitutions and ideals; and the meaning of this lesson has beenobscured, because the Federal organization has not been constituted in asufficiently democratic spirit, and because, consequently, it has tendedto provoke distrust on the part of good democrats. At every stage in thehistory of American political ideas and practice we shall meet with theunfortunate effects of this partial antagonism. 

The error of the Federalists can, however, be excused by manyextenuating circumstances. Democracy as an ideal was misunderstood in1786, and it was possessed of little or no standing in theory ortradition. Moreover, the radical American democrats were doing much todeserve the misgivings of the Federalists. Their ideas were narrow, impracticable, and hazardous; and they were opposed to the essentialpolitical need of the time--viz. The constitution of an efficientFederal government. The Federalists may have misinterpreted andperverted the proper purpose of American national organization, but theycould have avoided such misinterpretation only by an extraordinarydisplay of political insight and a heroic superiority to naturalprejudice. Their error sinks into insignificance compared with theenormous service which they rendered to the American people and theAmerican cause. Without their help there might not have been anyAmerican nation at all, or it might have been born under a far darkercloud of political suspicion and animosity. The instrument which theycreated, with all its faults, proved capable of becoming both the organof an efficient national government and the fundamental law of apotentially democratic state. It has proved capable of flexibledevelopment both in function and in purpose, and it has been developedin both these directions without any sacrifice of integrity. 

Its success has been due to the fact that its makers, with all theirapprehensions about democracy, were possessed of a wise and positivepolitical faith. They believed in liberty. They believed that theessential condition of fruitful liberty was an efficient centralgovernment. They knew that no government could be efficient unless itspowers equaled its responsibilities. They were willing to trust to sucha government the security and the welfare of the American people. TheConstitution has proved capable of development chiefly as the instrumentof these positive political ideas. Thanks to the theory of impliedpowers, to the liberal construction of the Supreme Court during thefirst forty years of its existence, and to the results of the Civil Warthe Federal government has, on the whole, become more rather than lessefficient as the national political organ of the American people. Almostfrom the start American life has grown more and more national insubstance, in such wise that a rigid constitution which could not havebeen developed in a national direction would have been an increasingsource of irritation and protest. But this reënforcement of thesubstance of American national life has, until recently, found anadequate expression in the increasing scope and efficiency of theFederal government. The Federalists had the insight to anticipate thekind of government which their country needed; and this was a great anda rare achievement--all the more so because they were obliged in ameasure to impose it on their fellow-countrymen. 

There is, however, another face to the shield. The Constitution was theexpression not only of a political faith, but also of political fears. It was wrought both as the organ of the national interest and as thebulwark of certain individual and local rights. The Federalists soughtto surround private property, freedom of contract, and personal libertywith an impregnable legal fortress; and they were forced by theiropponents to amend the original draft of the Constitution in order toinclude a still more stringent bill of individual and state rights. NowI am far from pretending that these legal restrictions have not hadtheir value in American national history, and were not the expression ofan essential element in the composition and the ideal of the Americannation. The security of private property and personal liberty, and aproper distribution of activity between the local and the centralgovernments, demanded at that time, and within limits still demand, adequate legal guarantees. It remains none the less true, however, thatevery popular government should in the end, and after a necessarilyprolonged deliberation, possess the power of taking any action, which, in the opinion of a decisive majority of the people, is demanded by thepublic welfare. Such is not the case with the government organizedunder the Federal Constitution. In respect to certain fundamentalprovisions, which necessarily receive the most rigid interpretation onthe part of the courts, it is practically unmodifiable. A very smallpercentage of the American people can in this respect permanently thwartthe will of an enormous majority, and there can be no justification forsuch a condition on any possible theory of popular Sovereignty. Thisdefect has not hitherto had very many practical inconveniences, but itis an absolute violation of the theory and the spirit of Americandemocratic institutions. The time may come when the fulfillment of ajustifiable democratic purpose may demand the limitation of certainrights, to which the Constitution affords such absolute guarantees; andin that case the American democracy might be forced to seek byrevolutionary means the accomplishment of a result which should beattainable under the law. 

It was, none the less, a great good thing that the Union under the newConstitution triumphed. Americans have more reason to be proud of itstriumph than of any other event in their national history. The formationof an effective nation out of the thirteen original colonies was apolitical achievement for which there was no historical precedent. Up tothat time large countries had been brought, if not held, together bymilitary force or by a long process of gradually closer historicalassociation. Small and partly independent communities had combined onewith another only on compulsion. The necessities of joint defense mightoccasionally drive them into temporary union, but they would not stayunited. They preferred a precarious and tumultuous independence to acombination with neighboring communities, which brought security at theprice of partial subordination and loyal coöperation. Even the provinceswhich composed the United Netherlands never submitted to an effectivepolitical union during the active and vital period of their history. Thesmall American states had apparently quite as many reasons forseparation as the small Grecian and Italian states. The militarynecessities of the Revolution had welded them only into a loose andfeeble confederation, and a successful revolution does not constitute avery good precedent for political subordination. The colonies weredivided from one another by difficulties of communication, byvariations in economic conditions and social customs, by divergentinterests, and above all by a rampant provincial and separatist spirit. On the other hand, they were united by a common language, by a commonpolitical and legal tradition, and by the fact that none of them hadever been really independent sovereign states. Nobody dared or cared toobject to union in the abstract; nobody advocated the alternative ofcomplete separation; it was only a strong efficient union which arousedthe opposition of the Clintons and the Patrick Henrys. Nevertheless, theconditions making for separation have the appearance of being moreinsistent and powerful than the conditions making for an effectiveunion. Disunion was so easy. Union was so difficult. If the states hadonly kept on drifting a little longer, they would, at least for a while, inevitably have drifted apart. They were saved from such a fate chieflyby the insight and energy of a few unionist leaders--of whom Washingtonand Hamilton were the most important. 

Perhaps American conditions were such that eventually some kind of anational government was sure to come; but the important point is thatwhen it came, it came as the result of forethought and will rather thanof compulsion. "It seems to have been reserved, " says Hamilton in thevery first number of the _Federalist_, "to the people of this country bytheir conduct and example, to decide the important question whethersocieties of men are really capable or not of establishing goodgovernment from reflection and choice, or whether they are foreverdestined to depend for their political constitutions on accident andforce. " Americans deliberately selected the better part. It is true thatthe evil effects of a loose union were only too apparent, and thatpublic safety, order, and private property were obviously endangered bythe feeble machinery of Federal government. Nevertheless, conditions hadnot become intolerable. The terrible cost of disunion in money, blood, humiliation, and hatred had not actually been paid. It might well haveseemed cheaper to most Americans to drift on a little longer than tomake the sacrifices and to undertake the labor demanded by the formationof an effective union. There were plenty of arguments by which a policyof letting things alone could be plausibly defended, and the precedentswere all in its favor. Other people had acquired such politicalexperience as they were capable of assimilating, first by drifting intosome intolerable excess or some distressing error, and then byundergoing some violent process of purgation or reform. But it is thedistinction of our own country that at the critical moment of itshistory, the policy of drift was stopped before a virulent disease hadnecessitated a violent and exhausting remedy. 

This result was achieved chiefly by virtue of capable, energetic, andpatriotic leadership. It is stated that if the Constitution had beensubjected to a popular vote as soon as the labors of the Conventionterminated, it would probably have been rejected in almost every statein the Union. That it was finally adopted, particularly by certainimportant states, was distinctly due to the conversion of publicopinion, by means of powerful and convincing argument. The Americanpeople steered the proper course because their leaders convinced them ofthe proper course to steer; and the behavior of the many who followedbehind is as exemplary as is that of the few who pointed the way. Abetter example could not be asked of the successful operation of thedemocratic institutions, and it would be as difficult to find itsparallel in the history of our own as in the history of Europeancountries. 

II

FEDERALISM AND REPUBLICANISM AS OPPONENTS

Fortunately for the American nation the unionists, who wrought theConstitution, were substantially the same body of men as the Federalistparty who organized under its provisions an efficient nationalgovernment. The work of Washington, Hamilton, and their associatesduring the first two administrations was characterized by the sameadmirable qualities as the work of the makers of the Constitution, andit is of similar importance. A vigorous, positive, constructive nationalpolicy was outlined and carried substantially into effect, --a policythat implied a faith in the powers of an efficient government to advancethe national interest, and which justified the faith by actually meetingthe critical problems of the time with a series of wise legislativemeasures. Hamilton's part in this constructive legislation was, ofcourse, more important than it had been in the framing of theConstitution. During Washington's two administrations the United Stateswas governed practically by his ideas, if not by his will; and the soundand unsound parts of his political creed can consequently be moredefinitely disentangled than they can be during the years when theConstitution was being wrought. The Constitution was in many respects acompromise, whereas the ensuing constructive legislation was a tolerablypure example of Hamiltonian Federalism. It will be instructive, consequently, to examine the trend of this Hamiltonian policy, and seekto discover wherein it started the country on the right path, andwherein it sought to commit the national government to a more dubiousline of action. 

Hamilton's great object as Secretary of the Treasury was that of makingthe organization of the national finances serve the cause of aconstructive national policy. He wished to strengthen the Federalgovernment by a striking exhibition of its serviceability, and bycreating both a strong sentiment and an influential interest in itsfavor. To this end he committed the nation to a policy of scrupulousfinancial honesty, which has helped to make it ever since the mainstayof sound American finance. He secured the consent of Congress to therecognition at their face value of the debts incurred during the warboth by the Confederacy and by the individual states. He created in theNational Bank an efficient fiscal agent for the Treasury Department anda means whereby it could give stability to the banking system of thecountry. Finally he sought by means of his proposed fiscal andcommercial policy to make the central government the effective promoterof a wholesome and many-sided national development. He detected thedanger to political stability and self-control which would result fromthe continued growth of the United States as a merely agricultural andtrading community, and he saw that it was necessary to cultivatemanufacturing industries and technical knowledge and training, becausediversified activity and a well-rounded social and economic life bringswith it national balance and security. 

Underlying the several aspects of Hamilton's policy can be discerned adefinite theory of governmental functions. The central government is tobe used, not merely to maintain the Constitution, but to promote thenational interest and to consolidate the national organization. Hamiltonsaw clearly that the American Union was far from being achieved whenthe Constitution was accepted by the states and the machinery of theFederal government set in motion. A good start had been made, but theway in which to keep what had been gained was to seek for more. Unionismmust be converted into a positive policy which labored to strengthen thenational interest and organization, discredit possible or actualdisunionist ideas and forces, and increase the national spirit. All thisimplied an active interference with the natural course of Americaneconomic and political business and its regulation and guidance in thenational direction. It implied a conscious and indefatigable attempt onthe part of the national leaders to promote the national welfare. Itimplied the predominance in American political life of the men who hadthe energy and the insight to discriminate between those ideas andtendencies which promoted the national welfare, and those ideas andtendencies whereby it was imperiled. It implied, in fine, theperpetuation of the same kind of leadership which had guided the countrysafely through the dangers of the critical period, and the perpetuationof the purposes which inspired that leadership. 

So far I, at least, have no fault to find with implications ofHamilton's Federalism, but unfortunately his policy was in certain otherrespects tainted with a more doubtful tendency. On the persistentvitality of Hamilton's national principle depends the safety of theAmerican republic and the fertility of the American idea, but he did notseek a sufficiently broad, popular basis for the realization of thoseideas. He was betrayed by his fears and by his lack of faith. Believingas he did, and far more than he had any right to believe, that he wasstill fighting for the cause of social stability and political orderagainst the seven devils of anarchy and dissolution, he thought itnecessary to bestow upon the central government the support of a strongspecial interest. During the Constitutional Convention he had failed tosecure the adoption of certain institutions which in his opinion wouldhave established as the guardian of the Constitution an aristocracy ofability; and he now insisted all the more upon the plan of attaching tothe Federal government the support of well-to-do people. As we haveseen, the Constitution had been framed and its adoption secured chieflyby citizens of education and means; and the way had been prepared, consequently, for the attempt of Hamilton to rally this class as a classmore than ever to the support of the Federal government. They were thepeople who had most to lose by political instability or inefficiency, and they must be brought to lend their influence to the perpetuation ofa centralized political authority. Hence he believed a considerablenational debt to be a good thing for the Federal national interest, andhe insisted strenuously upon the assumption by the Federal government ofthe state war-debts. He conceived the Constitution and the Union as avalley of peace and plenty which had to be fortified against themarauders by the heavy ramparts of borrowed money and the big guns of apropertied interest. 

In so doing Hamilton believed that he was (to vary the metaphor) loadingthe ship of state with a necessary ballast, whereas in truth he wasdisturbing its balance and preventing it from sailing free. He succeededin imbuing both men of property and the mass of the "plain people" withthe idea that the well-to-do were the peculiar beneficiaries of theAmerican Federal organization, the result being that the risingdemocracy came more than ever to distrust the national government. Instead of seeking to base the perpetuation of the Union upon theinterested motives of a minority of well-to-do citizens, he would havebeen far wiser to have frankly intrusted its welfare to the good-will ofthe whole people. But unfortunately he was prevented from so doing bythe limitation both of his sympathies and ideas. He was possessed by theEnglish conception of a national state, based on the domination ofspecial privileged orders and interests; and he failed to understandthat the permanent support of the American national organization couldnot be found in anything less than the whole American democracy. TheAmerican Union was a novel and a promising political creation, notbecause it was a democracy, for there had been plenty of previousdemocracies, and not because it was a nation, for there had been plentyof previous nations, but precisely and entirely because it was ademocratic nation, --a nation committed by its institutions andaspirations to realize the democratic idea. 

Much, consequently, as we may value Hamilton's work and for the mostpart his ideas, it must be admitted that the popular disfavor withwhich he came to be regarded had its measure of justice. This disfavorwas indeed partly the result of his resolute adherence to a wise but anunpopular foreign policy; and the way in which this policy was carriedthrough by Washington, Hamilton, and their followers, in spite of thegeneral dislike which it inspired, deserves the warmest praise. ButHamilton's unpopularity was fundamentally due to deeper causes. He andhis fellow-Federalists did not understand their fellow-countrymen andsympathize with their purposes, and naturally they were repaid withmisunderstanding and suspicion. He ceased, after Washington'sretirement, to be a national leader, and became the leader of a faction;and before his death his party ceased to be the national party, and cameto represent only a section and a class. In this way it irretrievablylost public support, and not even the miserable failure of Jefferson'spolicy of embargo could persuade the American people to restore theFederalists to power. As a party organization they disappeared entirelyafter the second English war, and unfortunately much that was good inHamilton's political point of view disappeared with the bad. But by itsfailure one good result was finally established. For better or worse theUnited States had become a democracy as well as a nation, and itsnational task was not that of escaping the dangers of democracy, but ofrealizing its responsibilities and opportunities. 

It did not take Hamilton's opponents long to discover that his ideas andplans were in some respects inimical to democracy; and the consequencewas that Hamilton was soon confronted by one of the most implacable andunscrupulous oppositions which ever abused a faithful and useful publicservant. This opposition was led by Jefferson, and while it mostunfortunately lacked Hamilton's statesmanship and sound constructiveideas, it possessed the one saving quality which Hamilton himselflacked: Jefferson was filled with a sincere, indiscriminate, andunlimited faith in the American people. He was according to his ownlights a radical and unqualified democrat, and as a democrat he foughtmost bitterly what he considered to be the aristocratic or evenmonarchic tendency of Hamilton's policy. Much of the denunciation whichhe and his followers lavished upon Hamilton was unjust, and much of thefight which they put up against his measures was contrary to the publicwelfare. They absolutely failed to give him credit for the patriotism ofhis intentions or for the merit of his achievements, and theirunscrupulous and unfair tactics established a baleful tradition inAmerican party warfare. But Jefferson was wholly right in believing thathis country was nothing, if not a democracy, and that any tendency toimpair the integrity of the democratic idea could be productive only ofdisaster. 

Unfortunately Jefferson's conception of democracy was meager, narrow, and self-contradictory; and just because his ideas prevailed, whileHamilton toward the end of his life lost his influence, the consequencesof Jefferson's imperfect conception of democracy have been much moreserious than the consequences of Hamilton's inadequate conception ofAmerican nationality. In Jefferson's mind democracy was tantamount toextreme individualism. He conceived a democratic society to be composedof a collection of individuals, fundamentally alike in their abilitiesand deserts; and in organizing such a society, politically, the primeobject was to provide for the greatest satisfaction of its individualmembers. The good things of life which had formerly been monopolized bythe privileged few, were now to be distributed among all the people. Itwas unnecessary, moreover, to make any very artful arrangements, inorder to effect an equitable distribution. Such distribution would takecare of itself, provided nobody enjoyed any special privileges andeverybody had equal opportunities. Once these conditions were secured, the motto of a democratic government should simply be "Hands Off. " Thereshould be as little government as possible, because persistentgovernmental interference implied distrust in popular efficiency andgood-will; and what government there was, should be so far as possibleconfided to local authorities. The vitality of a democracy resided inits extremities, and it would be diminished rather than increased byspecialized or centralized guidance. Its individual members neededmerely to be protected against privileges and to be let alone, whereafter the native goodness of human nature would accomplish theperfect consummation. 

Thus Jefferson sought an essentially equalitarian and even socialisticresult by means of an essentially individualistic machinery. His theoryimplied a complete harmony both in logic and in effect between the ideaof liberty and the idea of equality; and just in so far as there is anyantagonism between those ideas, his whole political system becomesunsound and impracticable. Neither is there any doubt as to which ofthese ideas Jefferson and his followers really attached the moreimportance. Their mouths have always been full of the praise of liberty;and unquestionably they have really believed it to be the corner-stoneof their political and social structure. None the less, however, is ittrue that in so far as any antagonism has developed in American lifebetween liberty and equality, the Jeffersonian Democrats have been foundon the side of equality. Representing as they did the democraticprinciple, it is perfectly natural and desirable that they should fightthe battle of equality in a democratic state; and their error has been, not their devotion to equality, but their inability to discern whereinany antagonism existed between liberty and equality, and the extent towhich they were sacrificing a desirable liberty to an undesirableequality. 

On this, as on so many other points, Hamilton's political philosophy wasmuch more clearly thought out than that of Jefferson. He has beenaccused by his opponents of being the enemy of liberty; whereas in pointof fact, he wished, like the Englishman he was, to protect and encourageliberty, just as far as such encouragement was compatible with goodorder, because he realized that genuine liberty would inevitably issuein fruitful social and economic inequalities. But he also realized thatgenuine liberty was not merely a matter of a constitutional declarationof rights. It could be protected only by an energetic and clear-sightedcentral government, and it could be fertilized only by the efficientnational organization of American activities. For national organizationdemands in relation to individuals a certain amount of selection, and acertain classification of these individuals according to their abilitiesand deserts. It is just this kind or effect of liberty which Jeffersonand his followers have always disliked and discouraged. They have beenloud in their praise of legally constituted rights; but they have shownan instinctive and an implacable distrust of intellectual and moralindependence, and have always sought to suppress it in favor ofintellectual and moral conformity. They have, that is, stood for thesacrifice of liberty--in so far as liberty meant positive intellectualand moral achievement--to a certain kind of equality. 

I do not mean to imply by the preceding statement that either Jeffersonor his followers were the conscious enemies of moral and intellectualachievement. On the contrary, they appeared to themselves in theiramiable credulity to be the friends and guardians of everythingadmirable in human life; but their good intentions did not prevent themfrom actively or passively opposing positive intellectual and moralachievement, directed either towards social or individual ends. Theeffect of their whole state of mind was negative and fatalistic. Theyapproved in general of everything approvable; but the things of whichthey actively approved were the things which everybody in general wasdoing. Their point of view implied that society and individuals could bemade better without actually planning the improvement or building up anorganization for the purpose; and this assertion brings me to thedeepest-lying difference between Hamilton and Jefferson. Jefferson'spolicy was at bottom the old fatal policy of drift, whose distorted bodywas concealed by fair-seeming clothes, and whose ugly face was coveredby a mask of good intentions. Hamilton's policy was one of energetic andintelligent assertion of the national good. He knew that the only methodwhereby the good could prevail either in individual or social life wasby persistently willing that it should prevail and by the adoption ofintelligent means to that end. His vision of the national good waslimited; but he was absolutely right about the way in which it was to beachieved. 

Hamilton was not afraid to exhibit in his own life moral andintellectual independence. He was not afraid to incur unpopularity forpursuing what he believed to be a wise public policy, and the generaldisapprobation under which he suffered during the last years of hislife, while it was chiefly due, as we have seen, to his distrust of theAmerican democracy, was also partly due to his high conception of theduties of leadership. Jefferson, on the other hand, afforded an equallyimpressive example of the statesman who assiduously and intentionallycourted popular favor. It was, of course, easy for him to court popularfavor, because he understood the American people extremely well andreally sympathized with them; but he never used the influence which hethereby obtained for the realization of any positive or formativepurpose, which might be unpopular. His policy, while in office, was oneof fine phrases and temporary expedients, some of which necessarilyincurred odium, but none of which were pursued by him or his followerswith any persistence. Whatever the people demanded, their leaders shouldperform, including, if necessary, a declaration of war against England. It was to be a government of and by the people, not a government for thepeople by popular but responsible leaders; and the leaders to whom thepeople delegated their authority had in theory no right to pursue anunpopular policy. The people were to guide their leaders, not theirleaders the people; and any intellectual or moral independence andinitiative on the part of the leaders in a democracy was to be condemnedas undemocratic. The representatives of a Sovereign people were in thesame position as the courtiers of an absolute monarch. It was theirbusiness to flatter and obey. 

III

FEDERALISM AND REPUBLICANISM AS ALLIES

It is not surprising, consequently, that Jefferson, who had been a lionin opposition, was transformed by the assumption of power into a lamb. Inasmuch as he had been denouncing every act of the Federalists sincethe consummation of the Union as dangerous to American liberties or asinimical to the public welfare, it was to be anticipated, when he andhis party assumed office, that they would seek both to tear down theFederalist structure and rear in its place a temple of the trueRepublican faith. Not only did nothing of the kind follow, but nothingof the kind was even attempted. Considering the fulminations of theRepublicans during the last ten years of Federalist domination, Jefferson's first Inaugural is a bewildering document. The recent past, which had but lately been so full of dangers, was ignored; and thefuture, the dangers of which were much more real, was not for the momentconsidered. Jefferson was sworn in with his head encircled by a halo ofbeautiful phrases; and he and his followers were so well satisfied withthis beatific vision that they entirely overlooked the desirability ofredeeming their own past or of providing for their country's future. Sufficient unto the day was the popularity thereof. The Federaliststhemselves must be conciliated, and the national organization achievedby them is by implication accepted. The Federalist structure, sorecently the prison of the free American spirit, becomes itself a largepart of the temple of democracy. The Union is no longer inimical toliberty. For the first time we begin to hear from good Republicanmouths, some sacred words about the necessary connection of liberty andunion. Jefferson celebrated his triumph by adopting the work, if not thecreed, of his adversaries. 

The adoption by Jefferson and the Republicans of the political structureof their opponents is of an importance hardly inferior to that of theadoption of the Constitution by the states. It was the first practicalindication that democracy and Federalism were not as radicallyantagonistic as their extreme partisans had believed; and it was alsothe first indication that the interests which were concealed behind thephrases of the two parties were not irreconcilable. When the democracyrallied to the national organization, the American state began to be ademocratic nation. The alliance was as yet both fragile and superficial. It was founded on a sacrifice by the two parties, not merely of certainerrors and misconceptions, but also of certain convictions, which hadbeen considered essential. The Republicans tacitly admitted thesubstantial falsity of their attacks upon the Federal organization. Themany Federalists who joined their opponents abandoned without scruplethe whole spirit and purpose of the Hamiltonian national policy. But atany rate the reconciliation was accomplished. The newly founded Americanstate was for the time being saved from the danger of being torn asunderby two rival factions, each representing irreconcilable ideas andinterests. The Union, which had been celebrated in 1789, was consummatedin 1801. Its fertility was still to be proved. 

When Jefferson and the Republicans rallied to the Union and to theexisting Federalist organization, the fabric of traditional Americandemocracy was almost completely woven. Thereafter the American peoplehad only to wear it and keep it in repair. The policy announced inJefferson's first Inaugural was in all important respects merely apolicy of conservatism. The American people were possessed of a set ofpolitical institutions, which deprived them of any legitimate grievancesand supplied them with every reasonable opportunity; and their politicalduty was confined to the administration of these institutions in afaithful spirit and their preservation from harm. The future containedonly one serious danger. Such liberties were always open to attack, andthere would always be designing men whose interest it was to attackthem. The great political responsibility of the American democracy wasto guard itself against such assaults; and should they succeed in thistask they need have no further concern about their future. Theirpolitical salvation was secure. They had placed it, as it were, in agood sound bank. It would be sure to draw interest provided the bankwere conservatively managed--that is, provided it were managed by loyalRepublicans. There was no room or need for any increase in the fund, because it already satisfied every reasonable purpose. But it must notbe diminished; and it must not be exposed to any risk of diminution byhazardous speculative investments. 

During the next fifty years, the American democracy accepted almostliterally this Jeffersonian tradition. Until the question of slaverybecame acute, they ceased to think seriously about political problems. The lawyers were preoccupied with certain important questions ofconstitutional interpretation, which had their political implications;but the purpose of these expositions of our fundamental law was theaffirmation, the consolidation, and towards the end, the partialrestriction of the existing Federalist organization. In this as in otherrespects the Americans of the second and third generations were merelypreserving what their fathers had wrought. Their political institutionswere good, in so far as they were not disturbed. They might become bad, only in case they were perverted. The way to guard against suchperversion was, of course, to secure the election of righteousdemocrats. From the traditional American point of view, it was far moreimportant to get the safe candidates elected than it was to use thepower so obtained for any useful political achievement. In the hands ofunsafe men, --that is, one's political opponents, --the government mightbe perverted to dangerous uses, whereas in the hands of safe men, itcould at best merely be preserved in safety. Misgovernment was agreater danger than good government was a benefit, because goodgovernment, particularly on the part of Federal officials, consisted, apart from routine business, in letting things alone. Thus the furiousinterest, which the good American took in getting himself and hisassociates elected, could be justified by reasons founded on theessential nature of the traditional political system. 

The good American democrat had, of course, another political dutybesides that of securing the election of himself and his friends. Hispolitical system was designed, not merely to deprive him of grievances, but to offer him superlative opportunities. In taking the utmostadvantage of those opportunities, he was not only fulfilling his duty tohimself, but he was helping to realize the substantial purpose ofdemocracy. Just as it was the function of the national organization tokeep itself undefiled and not to interfere, so it was his personalfunction to make hay while the sun was shining. The triumph of Jeffersonand the defeat of Hamilton enabled the natural individualism of theAmerican people free play. The democratic political system wasconsidered tantamount in practice to a species of vigorous, licensed, and purified selfishness. The responsibilities of the government werenegative; those of the individual were positive. And it is no wonderthat in the course of time his positive responsibilities began to looklarger and larger. This licensed selfishness became more domineering inproportion as it became more successful. If a political question arose, which in any way interfered with his opportunities, the good Americanbegan to believe that his democratic political machine was out of gear. Did Abolitionism create a condition of political unrest, and interferewith good business, then Abolitionists were wicked men, who weretampering with the ark of the Constitution; and in much the same way themodern reformer, who proposes policies looking toward a restriction inthe activity of corporations and stands in the way of the immediatetransaction of the largest possible volume of business, is denounced asun-American. These were merely crude ways of expressing the spirit oftraditional American democracy, --which was that of a rampantindividualism, checked only by a system of legally constituted rights. The test of American national success was the comfort and prosperity ofthe individual; and the means to that end, --a system of unrestrictedindividual aggrandizement and collective irresponsibility. 

The alliance between Federalism and democracy on which this traditionalsystem was based, was excellent in many of its effects; butunfortunately it implied on the part of both the allies a sacrifice ofpolitical sincerity and conviction. And this sacrifice was moredemoralizing to the Republicans than to the Federalists, because theywere the victorious party. A central government, constructed on thebasis of their democratic creed, would have been a government whosepowers were smaller, more rigid, and more inefficiently distributed thanthose granted under our Federal Constitution--as may be seen from thevarious state constitutions subsequently written under Jeffersonianinfluence. When they obtained power either they should have beenfaithful to their convictions and tried to modify the Federal machineryin accordance therewith, or they should have modified their ideas inorder to make them square with their behavior. But instead of seriouslyand candidly considering the meaning of their own actions, they openedtheir mouths wide enough to swallow their own past and then deliberatelyshut their eyes. They accepted the national organization as a fact andas a condition of national safety; but they rejected it as a lesson inpolitical wisdom, and as an implicit principle of political action. Byso doing they began that career of intellectual lethargy, superficiality, and insincerity which ever since has been characteristicof official American political thought. 

This lack of intellectual integrity on the part of the Americandemocracy both falsified the spirit in which our institutions hadoriginated, and seriously compromised their future success. The Unionhad been wrought by virtue of vigorous, responsible, and enterprisingleadership, and of sound and consistent political thinking. It was to beperpetuated by a company of men, who disbelieved in enterprising andresponsible leadership, and who had abandoned and tended to disparageanything but the most routine political ideas. The American people, after passing through a period of positive achievement, distinguished inall history for the powerful application of brains to the solution of anorganic political problem--the American people, after this almostunprecedented exhibition of good-will and good judgment, proceeded toput a wholly false interpretation on their remarkable triumph. Theyproceeded, also, to cultivate a state of mind which has kept thempeculiarly liable to intellectual ineptitude and conformity. The mixtureof optimism, conservatism, and superficiality, which has until recentlycharacterized their political point of view, has made them almost blindto the true lessons of their own national experience. 

The best that can be said on behalf of this traditional American systemof political ideas is that it contained the germ of better things. Thecombination of Federalism and Republicanism which formed the substanceof the system, did not constitute a progressive and formative politicalprinciple, but it pointed in the direction of a constructive formula. The political leaders of the "era of good feeling" who began to use withsome degree of conviction certain comely phrases about the eternal andinseparable alliance between "liberty and union" were looking towardsthe promised land of American democratic fulfillment. As we shall see, the kind of liberty and the kind of union which they had in mind were byno means indissolubly and inseparably united; and both of these wordshad to be transformed from a negative and legal into a positive moraland social meaning before the boasted alliance could be anything butprecarious and sterile. But if for liberty we substitute the worddemocracy, which means something more than liberty, and if for union, wesubstitute the phrase American nationality, which means so much morethan a legal union, we shall be looking in the direction of a fruitfulalliance between two supplementary principles. It can, I believe, bestated without qualification that wherever the nationalist idea andtendency has been divided from democracy, its achievements have beenlimited and partially sterilized. It can also be stated that theseparation of the democratic idea from the national principle andorganization has issued not merely in sterility, but in moral andpolitical mischief. All this must remain mere assertion for the present;but I shall hope gradually to justify these assertions by an examinationof the subsequent course of American political development. 

CHAPTER III

I

THE DEMOCRATS AND THE WHIGS

The first phase of American political history was characterized by theconflict between the Federalists and the Republicans, and it resulted inthe complete triumph of the latter. The second period was characterizedby an almost equally bitter contest between the Democrats and the Whigsin which the Democrats represented a new version of the earlierRepublican tradition and the Whigs a resurrected Federalism. TheDemocracy of Jackson differed in many important respects from theRepublicanism of Jefferson, and the Whig doctrine of Henry Clay was farremoved from the Federalism of Alexander Hamilton. Nevertheless, from1825 to 1850, the most important fact in American political developmentcontinued to be a fight between an inadequate conception of democracy, represented by Jackson and his followers, and a feeble conception ofAmerican nationality, represented best by Henry Clay and Daniel Webster;and in this second fight the victory still rested, on the whole, withthe Democrats. The Whigs were not annihilated as the Federalists hadbeen. In the end they perished as a party, but not because of theassaults of their opponents, but because of their impotence in the faceof a grave national crisis. Nevertheless, they were on all essentialissues beaten by the Democrats; and on the few occasions on which theywere victorious, their victories were both meaningless and fruitless. 

The years between 1800 and 1825 were distinguished, so far as ourdomestic development was concerned, by the growth of the Western pioneerDemocracy in power and self-consciousness. It was one of the gravesterrors of Hamilton and the Federalists that they misunderstood andsuspected the pioneer Democracy, just as it was one of the greatestmerits of Jefferson that he early appreciated its importance and usedhis influence and power to advance its interests. The consequence wasthat the pioneers became enthusiastic and radical supporters of theRepublican party. They repeated and celebrated the Jeffersoniancatchwords with the utmost conviction. They became imbued with thespirit of the true Jeffersonian faith. They were, indeed, in manyrespects more Jeffersonian than Jefferson himself, and sought to realizesome of his ideas with more energy and consistency. These ideasexpressed and served their practical needs marvelously well, and if theformulas had not already been provided by Jefferson, they would mostassuredly have been crystallized by the pioneer politicians of the day. The Jeffersonian creed has exercised a profound influence upon thethought of the American people, not because Jefferson was an originaland profound thinker, but because of his ability to formulate popularopinions, prejudices, and interests. 

It is none the less true that the pioneer Democracy soon came to differwith Jefferson about some important questions of public policy. Theyearly showed, for instance, a lively disapproval of Jefferson'smanagement of the crisis in foreign affairs, which preceded the War of1812. Jefferson's policy of commercial embargo seemed pusillanimous toJackson and the other Western Democrats. They did not believe inpeaceful warfare; and their different conception of the effective way offighting a foreign enemy was symptomatic of a profound difference ofopinion and temper. The Western Democracy did not share Jefferson'samiable cosmopolitanism. It was, on the contrary, aggressively resolvedto assert the rights and the interests of the United States against anysuspicion of European aggrandizement. However much it preferred alet-alone policy in respect to the domestic affairs, all its instinctsrevolted against a weak foreign policy; and its instincts were outragedby the administration's policy of peaceful warfare, which injuredourselves so much more than it injured England, not only because thepioneers were fighting men by conviction and habit, but because theywere much more genuinely national in their feelings than were Jeffersonand Madison. 

The Western Democrats finally forced Madison and the official Republicanleaders to declare war against England, because Madison preferred even aforeign war to the loss of popularity; but Madison, although he acceptedthe necessity of war, was wholly incompetent to conduct it efficiently. The inadequacy of our national organization and our lack of nationalcohesion was immediately and painfully exhibited. The Republicansuperstition about militarism had prevented the formation of a regulararmy at all adequate to the demands of our national policy, and theAmerican navy, while efficient so far as it went, was very much toosmall to constitute an effective engine of naval warfare. Moreover, thevery Congress that clearly announced an intention of declaring war onGreat Britain failed to make any sufficient provision for its energeticprosecution. The consequence of this short-sighted view of our nationalresponsibilities is that the history of the War of 1812 makes painfulreading for a patriotic American. The little American navy earneddistinction, but it was so small that its successes did not prevent itfrom being shut off eventually from the high seas. The militaryoperations were a succession of blunders both in strategy and inperformance. On the northern frontier a series of incompetent generalsled little armies of half-hearted soldiers to unnecessary defeats or atbest to ineffectual victories; and the most conspicuous military successwas won at New Orleans by the Western pioneers, who had noconstitutional scruples about fighting outside of their own states, andwho were animated by lively patriotic feelings. On the whole, however, the story makes humiliating reading, not because the national Capitalwas captured almost without resistance, or because we were so frequentlybeaten, but because our disorganization, the incompetence of thenational government, and the disloyalty of so many Americans made usdeserve both a less successful war and a more humiliating peace. 

The chief interest of the second English war for the purpose of thisbook is, however, its clear indication of the abiding-place at that timeof the American national spirit. That spirit was not found along theAtlantic coast, whose inhabitants were embittered and blinded by partyand sectional prejudices. It was resident in the newer states of theWest and the Southwest. A genuine American national democracy was cominginto existence in that part of the country--a democracy which was asdemocratic as it knew how to be, while at the same time loyal anddevoted to the national government. The pioneers had in a measureoutgrown the colonialism of the thirteen original commonwealths. Theyoccupied a territory which had in the beginning been part of thenational domain. Their local commonwealths had not antedated theFederal Union, but were in a way children of the central government; andthey felt that they belonged to the Union in a way that was rarelyshared by an inhabitant of Massachusetts or South Carolina. Theirnational feeling did not prevent them from being in some respectsextremely local and provincial in their point of view. It did notprevent them from resenting with the utmost energy any interference ofthe Federal government in what they believed to be their local affairs. But they were none the less, first and foremost, loyal citizens of theAmerican Federal state. 

II

THE NEW NATIONAL DEMOCRACY

We must consider carefully this earliest combination of the nationalwith the democratic idea. The Western Democracy is important, not onlybecause it played the leading part in our political history down to1850, but precisely because it does offer, in a primitive butsignificant form, a combination of the two ideas, which, when united, constitute the formative principle in American political and socialdevelopment. The way had been prepared for this combination by theRepublican acceptance of the Federal organization, after that party hadassumed power; but the Western Democrats took this alliance much moreinnocently than the older Republican leaders. They insisted, as we haveseen, on a declaration of war against Great Britain; and humiliating aswere the results of that war, this vigorous assertion of the nationalpoint of view, both exposed in clear relief the sectional disloyalty ofthe Federalists of New England and resulted later in an attemptedrevival of a national constructive policy. It is true that theregeneration of the Hamiltonian spirit belongs rather to the history ofthe Whigs than to the history of the Democrats. It is true, also, thatthe attempted revival at once brought out the inadequacy of thepioneer's conceptions both of the national and the democratic ideas. Nevertheless, it was their assertion of the national interest against aforeign enemy which provoked its renewed vitality in relation to ourdomestic affairs. Whatever the alliance between nationality anddemocracy, represented by the pioneers, lacked in fruitful understandingof the correlative ideas, at least it was solid alliance. The WesternDemocrats were suspicious of any increase of the national organizationin power and scope, but they were even more determined that it should beneither shattered nor vitally injured. Although they were unable tograsp the meaning of their own convictions, the Federal Union reallymeant to them something more than an indissoluble legal contract. It wasrooted in their life. It was one of those things for which they werewilling to fight; and their readiness to fight for the national idea wasthe great salutary fact. Our country was thereby saved from theconsequences of its distracting individualistic conception of democracy, and its merely legal conception of nationality. It was because thefollowers of Jackson and Douglas did fight for it, that the Union waspreserved. 

Be it immediately remarked, however, that the pioneer Democrats wereobliged to fight for the Union, just because they were not interested inits progressive consummation. They willed at one and the same time thatthe Union _should_ be preserved, but that it _should not_ be increasedand strengthened. They were national in feeling, but local andindividualistic in their ideas; and these limited ideas were associatedwith a false and inadequate conception of democracy. Jefferson hadtaught them to believe that any increase of the national organizationwas inimical to democracy. The limitations of their own economic andsocial experience and of their practical needs confirmed them in thisbelief. Their manner of life made them at once thoroughly loyal andextremely insubordinate. They combined the sincerest patriotism with anenergetic and selfish individualism; and they failed wholly to realizeany discrepancy between these two dominant elements in their life. Theywere to love their country, but they were to work for themselves; andnothing wrong could happen to their country, provided they preserved itsinstitutions and continued to enjoy its opportunities. Their failure tograsp the idea that the Federal Union would not take care of itself, prevented them from taking disunionist ideas seriously, and encouragedthem to provoke a crisis, which, subsequently, their fundamental loyaltyto the Union prevented from becoming disastrous. They expected theircountry to drift to a safe harbor in the Promised Land, whereas theinexorable end of a drifting ship is either the rocks or the shoals. 

In their opposition to the consolidation of the national organization, the pioneers believed that they were defending the citadel of theirdemocratic creed. Democracy meant to them, not only equal opportunitiessecured by law, but an approximately equal standing among individualcitizens, and an approximately equal division of the social and economicfruits. They realized vaguely that national consolidation brought withit organization, and organization depended for its efficiency upon aclassification of individual citizens according to ability, knowledge, and competence. In a nationalized state, it is the man of exceptionalposition, power, responsibility, and training who is most likely to berepresentative and efficient, whereas in a thoroughly democratic state, as they conceived it, the average man was the representative citizen andthe fruitful type. Nationalization looked towards the introduction andperpetuation of a political, social, and financial hierarchy. Theyopposed it consequently, on behalf of the "plain people"; and they evenreached the conclusion that the contemporary political system was tosome extent organized for the benefit of special interests. Theydiscovered in the fiscal and administrative organization the presence ofdiscrimination against the average man. The National Bank was an exampleof special economic privileges. The office-holding clique was an exampleof special political privileges. Jackson and his followers declared waron these sacrilegious anomalies in the temple of democracy. Thus theonly innovations which the pioneers sought to impose on our nationalpolitical system were by way of being destructive. They uprooted anational institution which had existed, with but one brief interruption, for more than forty years; and they entirely altered the tradition ofappointment in the American civil service. Both of these destructiveachievements throw a great deal of light upon their unconscioustendencies and upon their explicit convictions, and will help us tounderstand the value and the limitation of the positive contributionwhich the pioneers made to the fullness of the American democratic idea. 

The National Bank was the institution by virtue of which Hamilton soughtto secure a stable national currency and an efficient national fiscalagent; and the Bank, particularly under its second charter, hadundoubtedly been a useful and economical piece of financial machinery. The Republicans had protested against it in the beginning, but they hadlater come to believe in its necessity; and at the time Benton andJackson declared war upon it, the Bank was, on the whole, and in spiteof certain minor and local grievances, a popular institution. If thequestion of the re-charter of the National Bank had been submitted topopular vote in 1832, a popular majority would probably have declared inits favor. Jackson's victory was due partly to his personal popularity, partly to the unwise manner in which the Bank was defended, but chieflyto his success in convincing public opinion that the Bank was aninstitution whose legal privileges were used to the detriment of theAmerican people. As a matter of fact, such was not the case. The Bankwas a semi-public corporation, upon which certain exceptional privilegeshad been conferred, because the enjoyment of such privileges wasinseparable from the services it performed and the responsibilities itassumed. When we consider how important those services were, and howdifficult it has since been to substitute any arrangement, whichprovides as well both a flexible and a stable currency and for thearticulation of the financial operations of the Federal Treasury withthose of the business of the country, it does not look as if theemoluments and privileges of the Bank were disproportionate to itsservices. But Jackson and his followers never even considered whetherits services and responsibilities were proportionate to its legalprivileges. The fact that any such privilege existed, the fact that anylegal association of individuals should enjoy such exceptionalopportunities, was to their minds a violation of democratic principles. It must consequently be destroyed, no matter how much the country neededits services, and no matter how difficult it was to establish in itsplace any equally efficient institution. 

The important point is, however, that the campaign against the NationalBank uncovered a latent socialism, which lay concealed behind therampant individualism of the pioneer Democracy. The ostensible grievanceagainst the Bank was the possession by a semi-public corporation ofspecial economic privileges; but the anti-Bank literature of the timewas filled half unconsciously with a far more fundamental complaint. What the Western Democrats disliked and feared most of all was thepossession of any special power by men of wealth. Their crusade againstthe "Money Power" meant that in their opinion money must not become apower in a democratic state. They had no objection, of course, tocertain inequalities in the distribution of wealth; but they fiercelyresented the idea that such inequalities should give a group of men anyspecial advantages which were inaccessible to their fellow-countrymen. The full meaning of their complaint against the Bank was left vague andambiguous, because the Bank itself possessed special legal privileges;and the inference was that when these privileges were withdrawn, the"Money Power" would disappear with them. The Western Democrat devoutlybelieved that an approximately equal division of the good things of lifewould result from the possession by all American citizens of equal legalrights and similar economic opportunities. But the importance of thisresult in their whole point of view was concealed by the fact that theyexpected to reach it by wholly negative means--that is, by leaving theindividual alone. The substantially equal distribution of wealth, whichwas characteristic of the American society of their own day, was farmore fundamental in their system of political and social ideas than wasthe machinery of liberty whereby it was to be secured. And just as soonas it becomes apparent that the proposed machinery does as a matter offact accomplish a radically unequal result, their whole political andeconomic creed cries loudly for revision. 

The introduction of the spoils system was due to the pervertedapplication of kindred ideas. The emoluments of office loomed largeamong the good things of life to the pioneer Democrat; and suchemoluments differed from other economic rewards, in that they werenecessarily at the disposal of the political organization. The publicoffices constituted the tangible political patrimony of the Americanpeople. It was not enough that they were open to everybody. They mustactually be shared by almost everybody. The terms of all electedofficials must be short, so that as many good democrats as possiblecould occupy an easy chair in the house of government; and officialsmust for similar reasons be appointed for only short terms. Traditionalpractice at Washington disregarded these obvious inferences from theprinciples of true democracy. Until the beginning of Jackson's firstadministration the offices in the government departments had beenappropriated by a few bureaucrats who had grown old at their posts; andhow could such a permanent appropriation be justified? The pioneerDemocrat believed that he was as competent to do the work as any memberof an office-holding clique, so that when he came into power, hecorrected what seemed to him to be a genuine abuse in the traditionalway of distributing the American political patrimony. He could notunderstand that training, special ability, or long experienceconstituted any special claim upon a public office, or upon any otherparticular opportunity or salary. One democrat was as good as another, and deserved his share of the rewards of public service. The state couldnot undertake to secure a good living to all good democrats, but, whenproperly administered, it could prevent any appropriation by a fewpeople of the public pay-roll. 

In the long run the effect of the spoils system was, of course, just theopposite of that anticipated by the early Jacksonian Democrats. Itmerely substituted one kind of office-holding privilege for another. Ithelped to build up a group of professional politicians who became intheir turn an office-holding clique--the only difference being that oneman in his political life held, not one, but many offices. Yet theJacksonian Democrat undoubtedly believed, when he introduced the systeminto the Federal civil service, that he was carrying out a desirablereform along strictly democratic lines. He was betrayed into such anerror by the narrowness of his own experience and of his intellectualoutlook. His experience had been chiefly that of frontier life, in whichthe utmost freedom of economic and social movement was necessary; and heattempted to apply the results of this limited experience to thegovernment of a complicated social organism whose different parts hadvery different needs. The direct results of the attempt were verymischievous. He fastened upon the American public service a system ofappointment which turned political office into the reward of partisanservice, which made it unnecessary for the public officials to becompetent and impossible for them to be properly experienced, and whichcontributed finally to the creation of a class of office-holdingpoliticians. But the introduction of the spoils system had a meaningsuperior to its results. It was, after all, an attempt to realize anideal, and the ideal was based on a genuine experience. The "VirginianOligarchy, " although it was the work of Jefferson and his followers, wasan anachronism in a state governed in the spirit of JeffersonianDemocratic principles. It was better for the Jacksonian Democrats tosacrifice what they believed to be an obnoxious precedent to theirprinciples than to sacrifice their principles to mere precedent. If inso doing they were making a mistake, that was because their principleswere wrong. The benefit which they were temporarily conferring onthemselves, as a class in the community, was sanctioned by the letterand the spirit of their creed. 

Closely connected with their perverted ideas and their narrow view oflife, we may discern a leaven of new and useful democratic experience. The new and useful experience which they contributed to our nationalstock was that of homogeneous social intercourse. I have alreadyremarked that the Western pioneers were the first large body ofAmericans who were genuinely national in feeling. They were also thefirst large body of Americans who were genuinely democratic in feeling. Consequently they imparted a certain emotional consistency to theAmerican democracy, and they thereby performed a social service whichwas in its way quite as valuable as their political service. Democracyhas always been stronger as a political than it has as a social force. When adopted as a political ideal of the American people, it was veryfar from possessing any effective social vitality; and until the presentday it has been a much more active force in political than in sociallife. But whatever traditional social force it has obtained, can betraced directly to the Western pioneer Democrat. His democracy was basedon genuine good-fellowship. Unlike the French Fraternity, it was theproduct neither of abstract theories nor of a disembodiedhumanitarianism. It was the natural issue of their interests, theiroccupations, and their manner of life. They felt kindly towards oneanother and communicated freely with one another because they were notdivided by radical differences in class, standards, point of view, andwealth. The social aspect of their democracy may, in fact, be comparedto the sense of good-fellowship which pervades the rooms of a properlyconstituted club. 

Their community of feeling and their ease of communication had comeabout as the result of pioneer life in a self-governing community. TheWestern Americans were confronted by a gigantic task of overwhelmingpractical importance, --the task of subduing to the needs of complicatedand civilized society a rich but virgin wilderness. This task was onewhich united a desirable social purpose with a profitable individualinterest. The country was undeveloped, and its inhabitants were poor. They were to enrich themselves by the development of the country, andthe two different aspects of their task were scarcely distinguished. They felt themselves authorized by social necessity to pursue their owninterests energetically and unscrupulously, and they were not eitherhampered or helped in so doing by the interference of the local or thenational authorities. While the only people the pioneer was obliged toconsult were his neighbors, all his surroundings tended to make hisneighbors like himself--to bind them together by common interests, feelings, and ideas. These surroundings called for practical, able, flexible, alert, energetic, and resolute men, and men of a differenttype had no opportunity of coming to the surface. The successful pioneerDemocrat was not a pleasant type in many respects, but he was saved frommany of the worst aspects of his limited experience and ideas by acertain innocence, generosity, and kindliness of spirit. With all hiswillful aggressiveness he was a companionable person who meant muchbetter towards his fellows than he himself knew. 

We need to guard scrupulously against the under-valuation of the advancewhich the pioneers made towards a genuine social democracy. The freedomof intercourse and the consistency of feeling which they succeeded inattaining is an indispensable characteristic of a democratic society. The unity of such a state must lie deeper than any bond established byobedience to a single political authority, or by the acceptance ofcommon precedents and ideas. It must be based in some measure upon aninstinctive familiarity of association, upon a quick communicability ofsympathy, upon the easy and effortless sense of companionship. Suchfamiliar intercourse is impossible, not only in a society witharistocratic institutions, but it can with difficulty be attained in asociety that has once had aristocratic institutions. A century more orless of political democracy has not introduced it into France, and in1830 it did not exist along the Atlantic seaboard at all to the sameextent that it did in the newer states of the West. In those states thepeople, in a sense, really lived together. They were divided by fewerbarriers than have been any similarly numerous body of people in thehistory of the world; and it was this characteristic which made them soefficient and so easily directed by their natural leaders. No doubt itwould be neither possible nor desirable to reproduce a precisely similarconsistency of feeling over a social area in which there was a greaterdiversity of manners, standards, and occupations; but it remains truethat the American democracy will lose its most valuable and promisingcharacteristic in case it loses the homogeneity of feeling which thepioneers were the first to embody. 

It is equally important to remember, however, that the socialconsistency of the pioneer communities should under different conditionsundergo a radical transformation. Neither the pioneers themselves northeir admirers and their critics have sufficiently understood how muchindividual independence was sacrificed in order to obtain thisconsistency of feeling, or how completely it was the product, in theform it assumed, of temporary economic conditions. If we study theWestern Democrats as a body of men who, on the whole, respondedadmirably to the conditions and opportunities of their time, but whowere also very much victimized and impoverished by the limited nature ofthese conditions and opportunities--if we study the Western Democratfrom that point of view, we shall find him to be the most significanteconomic and social type in American history. On the other hand, if weregard him in the way that he and his subsequent prototypes wish to beregarded, as the example of all that is permanently excellent andformative in American democracy, he will be, not only entirelymisunderstood, but transformed from an edifying into a mischievous type. 

Their peculiar social homogeneity, and their conviction that one man wasas good as another, was the natural and legitimate product ofcontemporary economic conditions. The average man, without any specialbent or qualifications, was in the pioneer states the useful man. Inthat country it was sheer waste to spend much energy upon tasks whichdemanded skill, prolonged experience, high technical standards, orexclusive devotion. The cheaply and easily made instrument was theefficient instrument, because it was adapted to a year or two of use andthen for supersession by a better instrument; and for the service ofsuch tools one man was as likely to be good as another. No specialequipment was required. The farmer was obliged to be all kinds of arough mechanic. The business man was merchant, manufacturer, andstorekeeper. Almost everybody was something of a politician. The numberof parts which a man of energy played in his time was astonishinglylarge. Andrew Jackson was successively a lawyer, judge, planter, merchant, general, politician, and statesman; and he played most ofthese parts with conspicuous success. In such a society a man whopersisted in one job, and who applied the most rigorous and exactingstandards to his work, was out of place and was really inefficient. Hisfinished product did not serve its temporary purpose much better thandid the current careless and hasty product, and his higher standards andpeculiar ways constituted an implied criticism upon the easy methods ofhis neighbors. He interfered with the rough good-fellowship whichnaturally arises among a group of men who submit good-naturedly anduncritically to current standards. 

It is no wonder, consequently, that the pioneer Democracy viewed withdistrust and aversion the man with a special vocation and high standardsof achievement. Such a man did insist upon being in certain respectsbetter than the average; and under the prevalent economic socialconditions he did impair the consistency of feeling upon which thepioneers rightly placed such a high value. Consequently they halfunconsciously sought to suppress men with special vocations. For themost part this suppression was easily accomplished by the action ofordinary social and economic motives. All the industrial, political, andsocial rewards went to the man who pursued his business, professional, or political career along regular lines; and in this way an ordinarytask and an interested motive were often imposed on men who were betterqualified for special tasks undertaken from disinterested motives. Butit was not enough to suppress the man with a special vocation bydepriving him of social and pecuniary rewards. Public opinion must betaught to approve of the average man as the representative type of theAmerican democracy, so that the man with a special vocation may bedeprived of any interest or share in the American democratic tradition;and this attempt to make the average man the representative Americandemocrat has persisted to the present day--that is, to a time when theaverage man is no longer, as in 1830, the dominant economic factor. 

It is in this way, most unfortunately, that one of the leading articlesin the American popular creed has tended to impair American moral andintellectual integrity. If the man with special standards and a specialvocation interfered with democratic consistency of feeling, it waschiefly because this consistency of feeling had been obtained at toogreat a sacrifice--at the sacrifice of a higher to a lower type ofindividuality. In all civilized communities the great individualizingforce is the resolute, efficient, and intense pursuit of special ideals, standards, and occupations; and the country which discourages suchpursuits must necessarily put up with an inferior quality and a lessvaried assortment of desirable individual types. But whatever the lossour country has been and is suffering from this cause, our popularphilosophers welcome rather than deplore it. We adapt our ideals ofindividuality to its local examples. When orators of the JacksonianDemocratic tradition begin to glorify the superlative individualsdeveloped by the freedom of American life, what they mean byindividuality is an unusual amount of individual energy successfullyspent in popular and remunerative occupations. Of the individualitywhich may reside in the gallant and exclusive devotion to somedisinterested, and perhaps unpopular moral, intellectual, or technicalpurpose, they have not the remotest conception; and yet it is this kindof individuality which is indispensable to the fullness and intensity ofAmerican national life. 

III

THE WHIG FAILURE

The Jacksonian Democrats were not, of course, absolutely dominant duringthe Middle Period of American history. They were persistently, and on afew occasions successfully, opposed by the Whigs. The latter naturallyrepresented the political, social, and economic ideas which theDemocrats under-valued or disparaged. They were strong in those Northernand border states, which had reached a higher stage of economic andsocial development, and which contained the mansions of contemporaryAmerican culture, wealth, and intelligence. It is a significant factthat the majority of Americans of intelligence during the Jacksonianepoch were opponents of Jackson, just as the majority of educatedAmericans of intelligence have always protested against the nationalpolitical irresponsibility and the social equalitarianism characteristicof our democratic tradition; but unfortunately they have always failedto make their protests effective. The spirit of the times was againstthem. The Whigs represented the higher standards, the more definiteorganization, and the social inequalities of the older states, but whenthey attempted to make their ideas good, they were faced by a dilemmaeither horn of which was disastrous to their interests. They werecompelled either to sacrifice their standards to the conditions ofpopular efficiency or the chance of success to the integrity of theirstandards. In point of fact they pursued precisely the worst course ofall. They abandoned their standards, and yet they failed to achievesuccess. Down to the Civil War the fruits of victory and the prestige ofpopularity were appropriated by the Democrats. 

The Whigs, like their predecessors, the Federalists, were ostensibly theparty of national ideas. Their association began with a group ofJeffersonian Republicans who, after the second English war, sought toresume the interrupted work of national consolidation. The results ofthat war had clearly exposed certain grave deficiencies in the Americannational organization; and these deficiencies a group of progressiveyoung men, under the lead of Calhoun and Clay, proposed to remedy. Oneof the greatest handicaps from which the military conduct of the war hadsuffered was the lack of any sufficient means of internal communication;and the construction of a system of national roads and waterways becamean important plank in their platform. There was also proposed a policyof industrial protection which Calhoun supported by arguments sonational in import and scope that they might well have been derivedfrom Hamilton's report. Under the influence of similar ideas theNational Bank was rechartered; and as the correlative of thisconstructive policy, a liberal nationalistic interpretation of theConstitution was explicitly advocated. As one reads the speechesdelivered by some of these men, particularly by Calhoun, during thefirst session of Congress after the conclusion of peace, it seems as ifa genuine revival had taken place of Hamiltonian nationalism, and thatthis revival was both by way of escaping Hamilton's fatal distrust ofdemocracy and of avoiding the factious and embittered opposition of theearlier period. 

The Whigs made a fair start, but unfortunately they ran a poor race andcame to a bad end. No doubt they were in a way an improvement on theFederalists, in that they, like their opponents, the Democrats, stoodfor a combination between democracy and nationalism. They believed thatthe consolidation and the development of the national organization wascontributory rather than antagonistic to the purpose of the Americanpolitical system. Yet they made no conquests on behalf of theirconvictions. The Federalists really accomplished a great and necessarytask of national organization and founded a tradition of constructivenational achievement. The Whigs at best kept this tradition alive. Theywere on the defensive throughout, and they accomplished nothing at allin the way of permanent constructive legislation. Their successes weremerely electioneering raids, whereas their defeats were whollydisastrous in that they lost, not only all of their strongholds, butmost of their military reputation and good name. Their finaldisappearance was wholly the result of their own incapacity. They werecondemned somehow to inefficiency, defeat, and dishonor. 

Every important article in their programme went astray. The policy ofinternal improvements in the national interest and at the nationalexpense was thwarted by the Constitutional scruples of such Presidentsas Monroe and Jackson, and for that reason it could never be discussedon its merits. The Cumberland Road was the only great national highwayconstructed, and remains to this day a striking symbol of what theFederal government might have accomplished towards the establishment ofan efficient system of inter-state communication. The re-charter of theNational Bank which was one of the first fruits of the new nationalmovement, proved in the end to be the occasion of its most flagrantfailure. The Bank was the national institution for the perpetuation ofwhich the Whig leaders fought most persistently and loyally. They beganthe fight with the support of public opinion, and with the prestige ofan established and useful institution in their favor; but the campaignwas conducted with such little skill that in the end they were utterlybeaten. Far from being able to advance the policy of nationalconsolidation, they were unable even to preserve existing nationalinstitutions, and their conspicuous failure in this crucial instance wasdue to their inability to keep public opinion convinced of the truththat the Bank was really organized and maintained in the nationalinterest. Their policy of protection met in the long run with a similarfate. In the first place, the tariff schedules which they successivelyplaced upon the statute books were not drawn up in Hamilton's wise andmoderate national spirit. They were practically dictated by the specialinterests which profited from the increases in duties. The Whig leadersaccepted a retainer from the manufacturers of the North, and bylegislating exclusively in their favor almost drove South Carolina tosecession. Then after accomplishing this admirable feat, they agreed toplacate the disaffected state by the gradual reduction in the scale ofduties until there was very little protection left. In short, they firstperverted the protectionist system until it ceased to be a nationalpolicy; and then compromised it until it ceased to be any policy at all. 

Perhaps the Whigs failed and blundered most completely in the fightwhich they made against the Federal executive and in the interest of theFederal legislature. They were forced into this position, because formany years the Democrats, impersonated by Jackson, occupied thePresidential chair, while the Whigs controlled one or both of theCongressional bodies; but the attitude of the two opposing parties inrespect to the issue corresponded to an essential difference oforganization and personnel. The Whigs were led by a group of brilliantorators and lawyers, while the Democrats were dominated by one powerfulman, who held the Presidential office. Consequently the Whigsproclaimed a Constitutional doctrine which practically amounted toCongressional omnipotence, and for many years assailed Jackson as amilitary dictator who was undermining the representative institutions ofhis country. The American people, however, appraised these fulminationsat their true value. While continuing for twelve years to elect to thePresidency Jackson or his nominee, they finally dispossessed the Whigsfrom the control of Congress; and they were right. The American peoplehave much more to fear from Congressional usurpation than they have fromexecutive usurpation. Both Jackson and Lincoln somewhat strained theirpowers, but for good purposes, and in essentially a moderate and candidspirit; but when Congress attempts to dominate the executive, itsobjects are generally bad and its methods furtive and dangerous. Ourlegislatures were and still are the strongholds of special and localinterests, and anything which undermines executive authority in thiscountry seriously threatens our national integrity and balance. It is tothe credit of the American people that they have instinctivelyrecognized this fact, and have estimated at their true value the tiradeswhich men no better than Henry Clay level against men no worse thanAndrew Jackson. 

The reason for the failure of the Whigs was that their opponentsembodied more completely the living forces of contemporary Americanlife. Jackson and his followers prevailed because they were simple, energetic, efficient, and strong. Their consistency of feeling and theirmutual loyalty enabled them to form a much more effective partisanorganization than that of the Whigs. It is one of those interestingparadoxes, not uncommon in American history, that the party whichrepresented official organization and leadership was loosely organizedand unwisely led, while the party which distrusted official organizationand surrounded official leadership with rigid restraints was mostefficiently organized and was for many years absolutely dominated by asingle man. At bottom, of course, the difference between the two partieswas a difference in vitality. All the contemporary conditions worked infavor of the strong narrow man with prodigious force of will like AndrewJackson, and against men like Henry Clay and Daniel Webster who had moreintelligence, but were deficient in force of character and singlenessof purpose. The former had behind him the impulse of a great popularmovement which was sweeping irresistibly towards wholly unexpectedresults; and the latter, while ostensibly trying to stem the tide, werein reality carried noisily along on its flood. 

Daniel Webster and Henry Clay were in fact faced by an alternativesimilar to that which sterilized the lives of almost all theircontemporaries who represented an intellectual interest. They were menof national ideas but of something less than national feeling. Theirinterests, temperament, and manner of life prevented them frominstinctively sympathizing with the most vital social and politicalmovement of their day. If they wanted popularity, they had to purchaseit by compromises, whereas Andrew Jackson obtained a much larger popularfollowing by acting strictly in accordance with the dictates of histemperament and ideas. He was effective and succeeded because hispersonality was representative of the American national democracy, whereas they failed, on the whole, because the constituency theyrepresented concealed limited sympathies and special interests underwords of national import. Jackson, who in theory was the servant andmouthpiece of his followers, played the part of a genuine leader in hiscampaign against the National Bank; while the Whigs, who should havebeen able to look ahead and educate their fellow-countrymen up to thelevel of their presumably better insight, straggled along in the rear ofthe procession. 

The truth is that the Democrats, under the lead of Jackson, weretemporarily the national party, although they used their genuinelynational standing to impose in certain respects a group of anti-nationalideas on their country. The Whigs, on the other hand, national as theymight be in ideas and aspirations, were in effect not much better than afaction. Finding that they could not rally behind their ideas aneffective popular following, they were obliged to seek support, partlyat the hands of special interests and partly by means of the sacrificeof their convictions. Under their guidance the national policy became apolicy of conciliation and compromise at any cost, and the national ideawas deprived of consistency and dignity. It became equivalent to ahodge-podge of policies and purposes, the incompatibility of whoseingredients was concealed behind a smooth crust of constitutionallegality and popular acquiescence. The national idea and interest, thatis, was not merely disarmed and ignored, as it had been by Jefferson. Itwas mutilated and distorted in obedience to an erroneous democratictheory; and its friends, the Whigs, deluded themselves with the beliefthat in draining the national idea of its vitality they were prolongingits life. But if its life was saved, its safety was chiefly due to itsostensible enemies. While the Whigs were less national in feeling andpurpose than their ideas demanded, the Democrats were more national thanthey knew. From 1830 to 1850 American nationality was being attenuatedas a conscious idea, but the great unconscious forces of American lifewere working powerfully and decisively in its favor. 

Most assuredly the failure of the Whigs is susceptible of abundantexplanation. Prevailing conditions were inimical to men whose strengthlay more in their intelligence than in their will. It was a period ofbig phrases, of personal motives and altercations, of intellectualattenuation, and of narrow, moral commonplaces, --all of which made itvery difficult for any statesman to see beyond his nose, or in case hedid, to act upon his knowledge. Yet in spite of all this, it does seemas if some Whig might have worked out the logic of the national ideawith as much power and consistency as Calhoun worked out the logic ofhis sectional idea. That no Whig rose to the occasion is an indicationthat in sacrificing their ideas they were sacrificing also theirpersonal integrity. Intellectual insincerity and irresponsibility was inthe case of the Democrats the outcome of their lives and their point ofview; but on the part of the Whigs it was equivalent to sheerself-prostitution. Jefferson's work had been done only too well. Thecountry had become so entirely possessed by a system of individualaggrandizement, national drift, and mental torpor that the men who fortheir own moral and intellectual welfare should have opposed it, werereduced to the position of hangers-on; and the dangers of the situationwere most strikingly revealed by the attitude which contemporarystatesmen assumed towards the critical national problem of theperiod, --the problem of the existence of legalized slavery in ademocratic state. 

CHAPTER IV

I

SLAVERY AND AMERICAN NATIONALITY

Both the Whig and the Democratic parties betrayed the insufficiency oftheir ideas by their behavior towards the problem of slavery. Hitherto Ihave refrained from comment on the effect which the institution ofslavery was coming to have upon American politics because the increasingimportance of slavery, and of the resulting anti-slavery agitation, demand for the purpose of this book special consideration. Such aconsideration must now be undertaken. The bitter personal and partisancontroversies of the Whigs and the Democrats were terminated by theappearance of a radical and a perilous issue; and in the settlement ofthis question the principles of both of these parties, in the manner inwhich they had been applied, were of no vital assistance. 

The issue was created by the legal existence in the United States of anessentially undemocratic institution. The United States was a democracy, and however much or little this phrase means, it certainly excludes anyownership of one man by another. Yet this was just what the Constitutionsanctioned. Its makers had been confronted by the legal existence ofslavery in nearly all of the constituent states; and a refusal torecognize the institution would have resulted in the failure of thewhole scheme of Constitutional legislation. Consequently they did notseek to forbid negro servitude; and inasmuch as it seemed at that timeto be on the road to extinction through the action of natural causes, the makers of the Constitution had a good excuse for refusing tosacrifice their whole project to the abolition of slavery, and inthrowing thereby upon the future the burden of dealing with it in somemore radical and consistent way. Later, however, it came to pass thatslavery, instead of being gradually extinguished by economic causes, wasfastened thereby more firmly than ever upon one section of the country. The whole agricultural, political, and social life of the South becamedominated by the existence of negro slavery; and the problem ofreconciling the expansion of such an institution with the logic of ournational idea was bound to become critical. Our country was committed byevery consideration of national honor and moral integrity to make itsinstitutions thoroughly democratic, and it could not continue to permitthe aggressive legal existence of human servitude without degeneratinginto a glaring example of political and moral hypocrisy. 

The two leading political parties deliberately and persistently soughtto evade the issue. The Western pioneers were so fascinated with thevision of millions of pale-faced democrats, leading free and prosperouslives as the reward for virtuously taking care of their own business, that the Constitutional existence of negro slavery did not in the leastdiscommode them. Disunionism they detested and would fight to the end;but to waste valuable time in bothering about a perplexing and anapparently irremediable political problem was in their eyes the worstkind of economy. They were too optimistic and too superficial toanticipate any serious trouble in the Promised Land of America; and theywere so habituated to inconsistent and irresponsible political thinking, that they attached no importance to the moral and intellectual turpitudeimplied by the existence of slavery in a democratic nation. Theresponsibility of the Whigs for evading the issue is more serious thanthat of the Democrats. Their leaders were the trained political thinkersof their generation. They were committed by the logic of their partyplatform to protect the integrity of American national life and toconsolidate its organization. But the Whigs, almost as much as theDemocrats, refused to take seriously the legal existence of slavery. They shirked the problem whenever they could and for as long as theycould; and they looked upon the men who persisted in raising it aloft asperverse fomenters of discord and trouble. The truth is, of course, thatboth of the dominant parties were merely representing the prevailingattitude towards slavery of American public opinion. That attitude wascharacterized chiefly by moral and intellectual cowardice. Throughoutthe whole of the Middle Period the increasing importance of negroservitude was the ghost in the house of the American democracy. Thegood Americans of the day sought to exorcise the ghost by many amiabledevices. Sometimes they would try to lock him up in a cupboard;sometimes they would offer him a soothing bribe; more often they wouldbe content with shutting their eyes and pretending that he was notpresent. But in proportion as he was kindly treated he persisted inintruding, until finally they were obliged to face the alternative, either of giving him possession of the house or taking possession of itthemselves. 

Foreign commentators on American history have declared that a peaceablesolution of the slavery question was not beyond the power of wise andpatriotic statesmanship. This may or may not be true. No solution of theproblem could have been at once final and peaceable, unless it providedfor the ultimate extinction of slavery without any violation of theConstitutional rights of the Southern states; and it may well be thatthe Southern planters could never have been argued or persuaded intoabolishing an institution which they eventually came to believe was arighteous method of dealing with an inferior race. Nobody can assertwith any confidence that they could have been brought by candid, courageous, and just negotiation and discussion into a reasonable frameof mind; but what we do know and can assert is that during the threedecades from 1820 to 1850, the national political leaders madeabsolutely no attempt to deal resolutely, courageously, or candidly withthe question. On those occasions when it _would_ come to the surface, they contented themselves and public opinion with meaninglesscompromises. It would have been well enough to frame compromises suitedto the immediate occasion, provided the problem of ultimatelyextinguishing slavery without rending the Union had been keptpersistently on the surface of political discussion: but the object ofthese compromises was not to cure the disease, but merely to allay itssymptoms. They would not admit that slavery was a disease; and in theend this habit of systematic drifting and shirking on the part ofmoderate and sensible men threw the national responsibility uponAbolitionist extremists, in whose hands the issue took such a distortedemphasis that gradually a peaceable preservation of American nationalintegrity became impossible. 

The problem of slavery was admirably designed to bring out the confusionof ideas and the inconsistency resident in the traditional Americanpolitical system. The groundwork of that system consisted, as we haveseen, in the alliance between democracy, as formulated in theJeffersonian creed, and American nationality, as embodied in theConstitutional Union; and the two dominant political parties of theMiddle Period, the Whigs and the Jacksonian Democrats, both believed inthe necessity of such an alliance. But negro slavery, just in so far asit became an issue, tended to make the alliance precarious. The nationalorganization embodied in the Constitution authorized not only theexistence of negro slavery, but its indefinite expansion. Americandemocracy, on the other hand, as embodied in the Declaration ofIndependence and in the spirit and letter of the Jeffersonian creed, washostile from certain points of view to the institution of negro slavery. Loyalty to the Constitution meant disloyalty to democracy, and an activeinterest in the triumph of democracy seemed to bring with it thecondemnation of the Constitution. What, then, was a good American to dowho was at once a convinced democrat and a loyal Unionist?

The ordinary answer to this question was, of course, expressed in thebehavior of public opinion during the Middle Period. The thing to do wasto shut your eyes to the inconsistency, denounce anybody who insisted onit as unpatriotic, and then hold on tight to both horns of the dilemma. Men of high intelligence, who really loved their country, and believedin the democratic idea, persisted in this attitude, whose ablest andmost distinguished representative was Daniel Webster. He is usuallyconsidered as the most eloquent and effective expositor of Americannationalism who played an important part during the Middle Period; andunquestionably he came nearer to thinking nationally than did anyAmerican statesman of his generation. He defended the Union against theNullifiers as decisively in one way as Jackson did in another. Jacksonflourished his sword, while Webster taught American public opinion toconsider the Union as the core and the crown of the American politicalsystem. His services in giving the Union a more impressive place in theAmerican political imagination can scarcely be over-estimated. Had theother Whig leaders joined him in refusing to compromise with theNullifiers and in strengthening by legislation the Federal governmentas an expression of an indestructible American national unity, aprecedent might have been established which would have increased thedifficulty of a subsequent secessionist outbreak. But Henry Claybelieved in compromises (particularly when his own name was attached tothem) as the very substance of a national American policy; and Websterwas too much of a Presidential candidate to travel very far on a lonelypath. Moreover, there was a fundamental weakness in Webster's ownposition, which was gradually revealed as the slavery crisis becameacute. He could be bold and resolute, when defending a nationalisticinterpretation of the Constitution against the Nullifiers or theAbolitionists; but when the slaveholders themselves became aggressive inpolicy and separatist in spirit, the courage of his convictions desertedhim. If an indubitably Constitutional institution, such as slavery, could be used as an ax with which to hew at the trunk of theConstitutional tree, his whole theory of the American system wasundermined, and he could speak only halting and dubious words. He was asmuch terrorized by the possible consequences of any candid andcourageous dealing with the question as were the prosperous business menof the North; and his luminous intelligence shed no light upon aquestion, which evaded his Constitutional theories, terrified his will, and clouded the radiance of his patriotic visions. 

The patriotic formula, of which Webster was the ablest and most eloquentexpositor, was fairly torn to pieces by the claws of the problem ofslavery. The formula triumphantly affirmed the inseparable relationbetween individual liberty and the preservation of the Federal Union;but obviously such a formula could have no validity from the point ofview of a Southerner. The liberties which men most cherish are thosewhich are guaranteed to them by law--among which one of the mostimportant from the Southerner's point of view was the right to own negrobondsmen. As soon as it began to appear that the perpetuation of theUnion threatened this right, they were not to be placated with anyglowing proclamation about the inseparability of liberty in general froman indestructible union. From the standpoint of their own most cherishedrights, they could put up a very strong argument on behalf of disunion;and they had as much of the spirit of the Constitution on their side ashad their opponents. That instrument was intended not only to give legalform to the Union of the American commonwealths and the American people, but also to guarantee certain specified rights and liberties. If, on theone hand, negro slavery undermined the moral unity and consequently thepolitical integrity of the American people, and if on the other, theSouth stubbornly insisted upon its legal right to property in negroes, the difficulty ran too deep to be solved by peaceable Constitutionalmeans. The legal structure of American nationality became a housedivided against itself, and either the national principle had to besacrificed to the Constitution or the Constitution to the nationalprinciple. 

The significance of the whole controversy does not become clear, untilwe modify Webster's formula about the inseparability of liberty andunion, and affirm in its place the inseparability of Americannationality and American democracy. The Union had come to mean somethingmore to the Americans of the North than loyalty to the Constitution. Ithad come to mean devotion to a common national idea, --the idea ofdemocracy; and while the wiser among them did not want to destroy theConstitution for the benefit of democracy, they insisted that theConstitution should be officially stigmatized as in this respect aninadequate expression of the national idea. American democracy andAmerican nationality are inseparably related, precisely becausedemocracy means very much more than liberty or liberties, whethernatural or legal, and nationality very much more than an indestructiblelegal association. Webster's formula counseled an evasion of the problemof slavery. From his point of view it was plainly insoluble. But anaffirmation of an inseparable relationship between American nationalityand American democracy would just as manifestly have demanded itscandid, courageous, and persistent agitation. 

The slavery question, when it could no longer be avoided, graduallyseparated the American people into five different political parties orfactions--the Abolitionists, the Southern Democrats, the NorthernDemocrats, the Constitutional Unionists, and the Republicans. Each ofthese factions selected one of the several alternative methods ofsolution or evasion, to which the problem of negro slavery could bereduced, and each deserves its special consideration. 

Of the five alternatives, the least substantial was that of theConstitutional Unionists. These well-meaning gentlemen, composed for themost part of former Whigs, persisted in asserting that the Constitutionwas capable of solving every political problem generated under itsprotection; and this assertion, in the teeth of the fact that the Unionhad been torn asunder by means of a Constitutional controversy, hadbecome merely an absurdity. Up to 1850 the position of suchConstitutional Unionists as Webster and Clay could be plausiblydefended; but after the failure of that final compromise, it was plainthat a man of any intellectual substance must seek support for hisspecial interpretation of the Constitution by means of a specialinterpretation of the national idea. That slavery was Constitutionalnobody could deny, any more than they could deny the Constitutionalityof anti-slavery agitation. The real question, to which the controversyhad been reduced, had become, Is slavery consistent with the principlewhich constitutes the basis of American national integrity--theprinciple of democracy?

Each of the four other factions answered this question in a differentway; and every one of these answers was derived from different aspectsof the system of traditional American ideas. The Abolitionists believedthat a democratic state, which ignored the natural rights proclaimed bythe Declaration of Independence, was a piece of organized politicalhypocrisy, --worthy only of destruction. The Southerners believed thatdemocracy meant above all the preservation of recognized Constitutionalrights in property of all kinds, and freedom from interference in themanagement of their local affairs. The Northern Democrats insisted justas strenuously as the South on local self-government, and tried to erectit into the constituent principle of democracy; but they were loyal tothe Union and would not admit either that slavery could be nationalized, or that secession had any legal justification. Finally the Republicansbelieved with the Abolitionists that slavery was wrong; while theybelieved with the Northern Democrats that the Union must be preserved;and it was their attempt to de-nationalize slavery as undemocratic andat the same time to affirm the indestructibility of the Union, whichproved in the end to be salutary. 

Surely never was there a more distressing example of confusion ofthought in relation to a "noble national theory. " The traditionaldemocratic system of ideas provoked fanatical activity on the part ofthe Abolitionists, as the defenders of "natural rights, " a kindredfanaticism in the Southerners as the defenders of legal rights, andmoral indifference and lethargy on the part of the Northern Democrat forthe benefit of his own local interests. The behavior of all threefactions was dictated by the worship of what was called liberty; and theword was as confidently and glibly used by Calhoun and Davis as it wasby Garrison, Webster, and Douglas. The Western Democrat, and indeed theaverage American, thought of democratic liberty chiefly as individualfreedom from legal discrimination and state interference in doing somekind of a business. The Abolitionist was even more exclusivelypreoccupied with the liberty which the Constitution denied to the negro. The Southerners thought only of the Constitutional rights, which theAbolitionists wished to abolish, and the Republicans to restrict. Eachof the contending parties had some justification in dwelling exclusivelyupon the legal or natural rights, in which they were most interested, because the system of traditional American ideas provided no positiveprinciple, in relation to which these conflicting liberties could beclassified and valued. It is in the nature of liberties and rights, abstractly considered, to be insubordinate and to conflict both one withanother and, perhaps, with the common weal. If the chief purpose of ademocratic political system is merely the preservation of such rights, democracy becomes an invitation to local, factional, and individualambitions and purposes. On the other hand, if these Constitutional andnatural rights are considered a temporary philosophical or legalmachinery, whereby a democratic society is to reach a higher moral andsocial consummation, and if the national organization is consideredmerely as an effective method of keeping the legal and moral machineryadjusted to the higher democratic purpose, then no individual or factionor section could claim the benefit of a democratic halo for itsdistracting purposes and ambitions. Instead of subordinating theseconflicting rights and liberties to the national idea, and erecting thenational organization into an effective instrument thereof, the nationalidea and organization was subordinated to individual local and factionalideas and interests. No one could or would recognize the constructiverelation between the democratic purpose and the process of nationalorganization and development. The men who would rend the national bodyin order to protect their property in negro slaves could pretend to beas good democrats as the men who would rend in order to give the negrohis liberty. And if either of these hostile factions had obtained itsway, the same disastrous result would have been accomplished. Americannational integrity would have been destroyed, and slavery on Americansoil, in a form necessarily hostile to democracy, would have beenperpetuated. 

II

SLAVERY AS A DEMOCRATIC INSTITUTION

I have already suggested that it was the irresponsibility and theevasions of the party politicians, which threw upon the Abolitioniststhe duty of fighting slavery as an undemocratic institution. They tookup the cause of the negro in a spirit of religious self-consecration. The prevalence of irresolution and timidity in relation to slavery amongthe leaders of public opinion incited the Abolitionists to a high degreeof courage and exclusive devotion; and unfortunately, also, theconciliating attitude of the official leaders encouraged on the part ofthe Abolitionists an outburst of fanaticism. In their devotion to theiradopted cause they lost all sense of proportion, all balance ofjudgment, and all justice of perception; and their narrowness and wantof balance is in itself a sufficient indication that they were possessedof a half, instead of a whole, truth. 

The fact that the Abolitionists were disinterested and for a whilepersecuted men should not prevent the present generation from putting ajust estimate on their work. While they redeemed the honor of theircountry by assuming a grave and hard national responsibility, theysought to meet that responsibility in a way that would have destroyedtheir country. The Abolitionists, no less than the Southerners, weretearing at the fabric of American nationality. They did it, no doubt, inthe name of democracy; but of all perverted conceptions of democracy, one of the most perverted and dangerous is that which identifies itexclusively with a system of natural rights. Such a conception ofdemocracy is in its effect inevitably revolutionary, and merely loosensthe social and national bond. In the present instance they were betrayedinto one of the worst possible sins against the national bond--into thesin of doing a gross personal injustice to a large group of theirfellow-countrymen. Inasmuch as the Southerners were willfully violatinga Divine law, they became in the eyes of the Abolitionists, not merelymis-guided, but wicked, men; and the Abolitionists did not scruple tospeak of them as unclean beasts, who were fattening on the fruits of aniniquitous institution. But such an inference was palpably false. TheSouthern slave owners were not unclean beasts; and any theory whichjustified such an inference must be erroneous. They were, for the mostpart, estimable if somewhat quick-tempered and irascible gentlemen, whodid much to mitigate the evils of negro servitude, and who were on thewhole liked rather than disliked by their bondsmen. They were right, moreover, in believing that the negroes were a race possessed of moraland intellectual qualities inferior to those of the white men; and, however much they overworked their conviction of negro inferiority, theycould clearly see that the Abolitionists were applying a narrow andperverted political theory to a complicated and delicate set of economicand social conditions. It is no wonder, consequently, that they did notsubmit tamely to the abuse of the Abolitionists; and that they in theirturn lost their heads. Unfortunately, however, the consequence of theirwrong-headedness was more disastrous than it was in the case of theAbolitionists, because they were powerful and domineering, as well asangry and unreasonable. They were in a position, if they so willed, totear the Union to pieces, whereas the Abolitionists could only talk andbehave as if any legal association with such sinners ought to bedestroyed. 

The Southern slaveholders, then, undoubtedly had a grievance. They werebeing abused by a faction of their fellow-countrymen, because theyinsisted on enjoying a strictly legal right; and it is no wonder thatthey began to think of the Abolitionists very much as the Abolitioniststhought of them. Moreover, their anger was probably increased by thefact that the Abolitionists could make out some kind of a case againstthem. Property in slaves was contrary to the Declaration ofIndependence, and had been denounced in theory by the earlier Americandemocrats. So long as a conception of democracy, which placed naturalabove legal rights was permitted to obtain, their property in slaveswould be imperiled: and it was necessary, consequently, for theSoutherners to advance a conception of democracy, which would stand as afortress around their "peculiar" institution. During the earlier days ofthe Republic no such necessity had existed. The Southerners had merelyendeavored to protect their negro property by insisting on an equaldivision of the domain out of which future states were to be carved, andupon the admission into the Union of a slave state to balance every newfree commonwealth. But the attempt of the Abolitionists to identify theAmerican national idea with a system of natural rights, coupled with theplain fact that the national domain contained more material for freethan it did for slave states, provoked the Southerners into taking moreaggressive ground. They began to identify the national idea exclusivelywith a system of legal rights; and it became from their point of view aviolation of national good faith even to criticise any rights enjoyedunder the Constitution. They advanced a conception of Americandemocracy, which defied the Constitution in its most rigidinterpretation, --which made Congress incompetent to meddle with anyrights enjoyed under the Constitution, which converted any protestagainst such rights into national disloyalty, and which in the endconverted secession into a species of higher Constitutional action. 

Calhoun's theory of Constitutional interpretation was ingeniouslywrought and powerfully argued. From an exclusively legal standpoint, itwas plausible, if not convincing; but it was opposed by something deeperthan counter-theories of Constitutional law. It was opposed to theincreasingly national outlook of a large majority of the Americanpeople. They would not submit to a conception of the American politicalsystem, designed exclusively to give legal protection to property innegroes, and resulting substantially in the nationalization of slavery. They insisted upon a conception of the Constitution, which made thenational organization the expression of a democratic idea, morecomprehensive and dignified than that of existing legal rights; and inso doing the Northerners undoubtedly had behind them, not merely thesound political idea, but also a fair share of the living Americantradition. The Southerners had pushed the traditional worship ofConstitutional rights to a point which subordinated the whole Americanlegal system to the needs of one peculiar and incongruous institution, and such an innovation was bound to be revolutionary. But when the Northproposed to put its nationalistic interpretation of the Constitutioninto effect, and to prevent the South by force from seceding, the Southcould claim for its resistance a larger share of the American traditionthan could the North for its coercion. To insist that the Southernstates remain in the Union was assuredly an attempt to govern a wholesociety without its consent; and the fact that the Southerners ratherthan the Northerners were technically violators of the law, did notprevent the former from going into battle profoundly possessed with theconviction that they were fighting for an essentially democratic cause. 

The aggressive theories and policy of the Southerners made the moderateopponents of slavery realize that the beneficiaries of that institutionwould, unless checked, succeed eventually in nationalizing slavery byappropriating on its behalf the national domain. A body of publicopinion was gradually formed, which looked in the direction merely ofde-nationalizing slavery by restricting its expansion. This body ofpublic opinion was finally organized into the Republican party; and thisparty has certain claims to be considered the first genuinely nationalparty which has appeared in American politics. The character of beingnational has been denied to it, because it was, compared to the old Whigand Democratic parties, a sectional organization; but a party becomesnational, not by the locus of its support, but by the national import ofits idea and its policy. The Republican party was not entirely national, because it had originated partly in embittered sectional feeling, but itproclaimed a national idea and a national policy. It insisted on theresponsibility of the national government in relation to the institutionof slavery, and it insisted also that the Union should be preserved. Butbefore the Republicanism could be recognized as national even in theNorth, it was obliged to meet and vanquish one more proposed treatmentof the problem of slavery--founded on an inadequate conception ofdemocracy. In this case, moreover, the inadequate conception ofdemocracy was much more traditionally American than was an exclusivepreoccupation either with natural or legal rights; and according to itschief advocate it would have the magical result of permitting theexpansion of slavery, and of preserving the Constitutional Union, without doing any harm to democracy. 

This was the theory of Popular Sovereignty, whose ablest exponent wasStephen Douglas. About 1850, he became the official leader of theWestern Democracy. This section of the party no longer controlled theorganization as it did in the days of Jackson; but it was still powerfuland influential. It persisted in its loyalty to the Union coupled withits dislike of nationalizing organization; and it persisted, also, inits dislike of any interference with the individual so long as he wasmaking lawful money. The legal right to own slaves was from their pointof view a right like another; and not only could it not be taken awayfrom the Southern states, but no individual should be deprived of it bythe national government. When a state came to be organized, such a rightmight be denied by the state constitution; but the nation should donothing to prejudice the decision. The inhabitants of the nationaldomain should be allowed to own slaves or not to own them, just as theypleased, until the time came for the adoption of a state constitution;and any interference with this right violated democratic principles byan unjustifiable restriction upon individual and local action. Thus wasanother kind of liberty invoked in order to meet the new phase of thecrisis; and if it had prevailed, the United States would have become alegal union without national cohesion, and a democracy which issued, notillogically, in human servitude. 

Douglas was sincere in his belief that the principle of local or PopularSovereignty supplied a strictly democratic solution of the slaveryproblem, and it was natural that he should seek to use this principlefor the purpose of reaching a permanent settlement. When with theassistance of the South he effected the repeal of the MissouriCompromise, he honestly thought that he was replacing an arbitrary andunstable territorial division of the country into slave and freestates, by a settlement which would be stable, because it was thelogical product of the American democratic idea. The interpretation ofdemocracy which dictated the proposed solution was sufficientlyperverted; but it was nevertheless a faithful reflection of thetraditional point of view of the Jacksonian Democratic party, and itdeserves more respectful historical treatment than it sometimesreceives. It was, after all, the first attempt which had been made tolegislate in relation to slavery on the basis of a principle, and theapplication of any honest idea to the subject-matter of the controversyserved to clear an atmosphere which for thirty years had been clouded byunprincipled compromises. The methods and the objects of the severaldifferent parties were made suddenly definite and unmistakable; andtheir representatives found it necessary for the first time to standfirmly upon their convictions instead of sacrificing them in order tomaintain an appearance of peace. It soon became apparent that not eventhis erection of national irresponsibility into a principle would besufficient to satisfy the South, because the interests of the South hadcome to demand the propagation of slavery as a Constitutional right, andif necessary in defiance of local public opinion. Unionists wereconsequently given to understand that the South was offering them achoice between a divided Union and the nationalization of slavery; andthey naturally drew the conclusion that they must de-nationalize slaveryin order to perpetuate the Union. The repeal, consequently, hastened theformation of the Republican party, whose object it was to prevent theexpansion of slavery and to preserve the Union, without violating theConstitutional rights of the South. Such a policy could no longerprevail without a war. The Southerners had no faith in the fairintentions of their opponents. They worked themselves into the beliefthat The whole anti-slavery party was Abolitionist, and the wholeanti-slavery agitation national disloyalty. But the issue had been soshaped that the war could be fought for the purpose of preservingAmerican national integrity; and that was the only issue on which arighteous war could be fought. 

Thus the really decisive debates which preceded the Civil War were notthose which took place in Congress over states-rights, but rather thediscussion in Illinois between Lincoln and Douglas as to whetherslavery was a local or a national issue. The Congressional debates wereon both sides merely a matter of legal special pleading for the purposeof justifying a preconceived decision. What it was necessary forpatriotic American citizens and particularly for Western Democrats tounderstand was, not whether the South possessed a dubious right ofsecession, because that dispute, in case it came to a head, could onlybe settled by war; but whether a democratic nation could on democraticprinciples continue to shirk the problem of slavery by shifting theresponsibility for it to individuals and localities. As soon as Lincolnmade it plain that a democratic nation could not make local andindividual rights an excuse for national irresponsibility, then theUnionist party could count upon the support of the American conscience. The former followers of Douglas finally rallied to the man and to theparty which stood for a nationalized rather than a merely localizeddemocracy; and the triumph of the North in the war, not only put an endto the legal right of secession, but it began to emancipate the Americannational idea from an obscurantist individualism and provincialism. Ourcurrent interpretation of democracy still contains much dubious matterderived from the Jacksonian epoch; but no American statesmen canhereafter follow Douglas in making the democratic principle equivalentto utter national incoherence and irresponsibility. 

Mr. Theodore Roosevelt in his addresses to the veterans of the Civil Warhas been heard to assert that the crisis teaches us a much-needed lessonas to the supreme value of moral energy. It would have been muchpleasanter and cheaper to let the South secede, but the people of theNorth preferred to pay the cost of justifiable coercion in blood andtreasure than to submit to the danger and humiliation of peaceablerebellion. Doubtless the foregoing is sometimes a wholesome lesson onwhich to insist, but it is by no means the only lesson suggested by theevent. The Abolitionists had not shirked their duty as they understoodit. They had given their property and their lives to the anti-slaveryagitation. But they were as willing as the worst Copperheads to permitthe secession of the South, because of the erroneous and limitedcharacter of their political ideas. While the crisis had undoubtedlybeen, in a large measure, brought about by moral lethargy, and it couldonly be properly faced by a great expenditure of moral energy, it hadalso been brought about quite as much by political unintelligence; andthe salvation of the Union depended primarily and emphatically upon abetter understanding on the part of Northern public opinion of theissues involved. Confused as was the counsel offered to them, anddistracting as were their habits of political thought, the people of theNorth finally disentangled the essential question, and then supportedloyally the man who, more than any other single political leader, hadproperly defined the issue. 

That man was Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln's peculiar service to hiscountrymen before the war was that of seeing straighter and thinkingharder than did his contemporaries. No doubt he must needs have courage, also, for in the beginning he acted against the advice of his Republicanassociates. But in 1858 there were plenty of men who had the courage, whereas there were very few who had Lincoln's disciplined intelligenceand his just and penetrating insight. Lincoln's vision placed everyaspect of the situation in its proper relations; and he was as fullycompetent to detect the logical weakness of his opponent's position ashe was to explain his own lucidly, candidly, and persuasively. It sohappened that the body of public opinion which he particularly addressedwas that very part of the American democracy most likely to be deludedinto allowing the Southern leaders to have their will, yet whoseadhesion to the national cause was necessary to the preservation of theUnion. It was into this mass of public opinion, after the announcementof his senatorial candidacy, that he hammered a new and a hard truth. Hewas the first responsible politician to draw the logical inference fromthe policy of the Republican party. The Constitution was inadequate tocure the ills it generated. By its authorization of slavery itestablished an institution whose legality did not prevent it from beinganti-national. That institution must either be gradually reduced toinsignificance, or else it must transform and take possession of theAmerican national idea. The Union had become a house divided againstitself; and this deep-lying division could not be bridged merely byloyal Constitutionalism or by an anti-national interpretation ofdemocracy. The legal Union was being threatened precisely becauseAmerican national integrity was being gutted by an undemocraticinstitution. The house must either fall or else cease to be divided. Thus for the first time it was clearly proclaimed by a responsiblepolitician that American nationality was a living principle rather thana legal bond; and Lincoln's service to his country in making the WesternDemocracy understand that living Americans were responsible for theirnational integrity can scarcely be over-valued. The ground was cut fromunder the traditional point of view of the pioneer--which had been tofeel patriotic and national, but to plan and to agitate only for thefulfillment of local and individual ends. 

The virtue of Lincoln's attitude may seem to be as much a matter ofcharacter as of intelligence; and such, indeed, is undoubtedly the case. My point is, not that Lincoln's greatness was more a matter of intellectthan of will, but that he rendered to his country a peculiar service, because his luminous and disciplined intelligence and his nationaloutlook enabled him to give each aspect of a complicated and confusedsituation its proper relative emphasis. At a later date, when he hadbecome President and was obliged to take decisive action in order toprevent the House from utterly collapsing, he showed an inflexibility ofpurpose no less remarkable than his previous intellectual insight. Foras long as he had not made up his mind, he hesitated firmly andpatiently; but when he had made up his mind, he was not to be confusedor turned aside. Indeed, during the weeks of perplexity which precededthe bombardment of Fort Sumter, Lincoln sometimes seems to be the onewise and resolute man among a group of leaders who were either resoluteand foolish or wise (after a fashion) and irresolute. The amount of badadvice which was offered to the American people at this moment isappalling, and is to be explained only by the bad moral and intellectualhabits fastened upon our country during forty years of nationalturpitude. But Lincoln never for an instant allowed his course to bediverted. If the Union was attacked, he was prepared actively to defendit. If it was let alone, he was prepared to do what little he couldtowards the de-nationalization of slavery. But he refused absolutely tothrow away the fruits of Republican victory by renewing the policy offutile and unprincipled compromises. Back of all his opinions there wasan ultimate stability of purpose which was the result both of soundmental discipline and of a firm will. His was a mind, unlike that ofClay, Seward, or even Webster, which had never been cheapened by its ownexercise. During his mature years he rarely, if ever, proclaimed an ideawhich he had not mastered, and he never abandoned a truth which he hadonce thoroughly achieved. 

III

LINCOLN AS MORE THAN AN AMERICAN

Lincoln's services to his country have been rewarded with such abundantappreciation that it may seem superfluous to insist upon them onceagain; but I believe that from the point of view of this book an evenhigher value may be placed, if not upon his patriotic service, at leastupon his personal worth. The Union might well have been saved andslavery extinguished without his assistance; but the life of no otherAmerican has revealed with anything like the same completeness thepeculiar moral promise of genuine democracy. He shows us by the full butunconscious integrity of his example the kind of human excellence whicha political and social democracy may and should fashion; and its mostgrateful and hopeful aspect is, not merely that there is somethingpartially American about the manner of his excellence, but that it canbe fairly compared with the classic types of consummate personaldistinction. 

To all appearance nobody could have been more than Abraham Lincoln a manof his own time and place. Until 1858 his outer life ran much in thesame groove as that of hundreds of other Western politicians andlawyers. Beginning as a poor and ignorant boy, even less provided withprops and stepping-stones than were his associates, he had worked hisway to a position of ordinary professional and political distinction. Hewas not, like Douglas, a brilliant success. He was not, like Grant, anapparently hopeless failure. He had achieved as much and as little ashundreds of others had achieved. He was respected by his neighbors asan honest man and as a competent lawyer. They credited him withability, but not to any extraordinary extent. No one would have pointedhim out as a remarkable and distinguished man. He had shown himself tobe desirous of recognition and influence; but ambition had not been thecompelling motive in his life. In most respects his ideas, interests, and standards were precisely the same as those of his associates. Heaccepted with them the fabric of traditional American political thoughtand the ordinary standards of contemporary political morality. He hadnone of the moral strenuousness of the reformer, none of theexclusiveness of a man, whose purposes and ideas were consciouslyperched higher than those of his neighbors. Probably the majority of hismore successful associates classed him as a good and able man who wassomewhat lacking in ambition and had too much of a disposition to loaf. He was most at home, not in his own house, but in the corner grocerystore, where he could sit with his feet on the stove swapping storieswith his friends; and if an English traveler of 1850 had happened in onthe group, he would most assuredly have discovered another instance ofthe distressing vulgarity to which the absence of an hereditaryaristocracy and an established church condemned the American democracy. Thus no man could apparently have been more the average product of hisday and generation. Nevertheless, at bottom, Abraham Lincoln differed asessentially from the ordinary Western American of the Middle Period asSt. Francis of Assisi differed from the ordinary Benedictine monk of thethirteenth century. 

The average Western American of Lincoln's generation was fundamentally aman who subordinated his intelligence to certain dominant practicalinterests and purposes. He was far from being a stupid or slow-wittedman. On the contrary, his wits had been sharpened by the traffic ofAmerican politics and business, and his mind was shrewd, flexible, andalert. But he was wholly incapable either of disinterested or ofconcentrated intellectual exertion. His energies were bent in theconquest of certain stubborn external forces, and he used hisintelligence almost exclusively to this end. The struggles, thehardships, and the necessary self-denial of pioneer life constituted anadmirable training of the will. It developed a body of men with greatresolution of purpose and with great ingenuity and fertility inadapting their insufficient means to the realization of their importantbusiness affairs. But their almost exclusive preoccupation withpractical tasks and their failure to grant their intelligence any roomfor independent exercise bent them into exceedingly warped and one-sidedhuman beings. 

Lincoln, on the contrary, much as he was a man of his own time andpeople, was precisely an example of high and disinterested intellectualculture. During all the formative years in which his life did notsuperficially differ from that of his associates, he was in point offact using every chance which the material of Western life afforded todiscipline and inform his mind. These materials were not very abundant;and in the use which he proceeded to make of them Lincoln had noassistance, either from a sound tradition or from a better educatedmaster. On the contrary, as the history of the times shows, there wasevery temptation for a man with a strong intellectual bent to bebetrayed into mere extravagance and aberration. But with the soundinstinct of a well-balanced intelligence Lincoln seized upon the threeavailable books, the earnest study of which might best help to developharmoniously a strong and many-sided intelligence. He seized, that is, upon the Bible, Shakespeare, and Euclid. To his contemporaries the Biblewas for the most part a fountain of fanatic revivalism, and Shakespeare, if anything, a mine of quotations. But in the case of Lincoln, Shakespeare and the Bible served, not merely to awaken his taste andfashion his style, but also to liberate his literary and moralimagination. At the same time he was training his powers of thought byan assiduous study of algebra and geometry. The absorbing hours he spentover his Euclid were apparently of no use to him in his profession; butLincoln was in his way an intellectual gymnast and enjoyed the exertionfor its own sake. Such a use of his leisure must have seemed a sheerwaste of time to his more practical friends, and they might well haveaccounted for his comparative lack of success by his indulgence in suchsecret and useless pastimes. Neither would this criticism have beenbeside the mark, for if Lincoln's great energy and powers of work hadbeen devoted exclusively to practical ends, he might well have become inthe early days a more prominent lawyer and politician than he actuallywas. But he preferred the satisfaction of his own intellectual andsocial instincts, and so qualified himself for achievements beyond thepower of a Douglas. 

In addition, however, to these private gymnastics Lincoln shared withhis neighbors a public and popular source of intellectual and humaninsight. The Western pioneers, for all their exclusive devotion topractical purposes, wasted a good deal of time on apparently uselesssocial intercourse. In the Middle Western towns of that day there was, as we have seen, an extraordinary amount of good-fellowship, which wasquite the most wholesome and humanizing thing which entered into thelines of these hard-working and hard-featured men. The whole malecountryside was in its way a club; and when the presence of women didnot make them awkward and sentimental, the men let themselves loose inan amount of rough pleasantry and free conversation, which added the onegenial and liberating touch to their lives. This club life of his ownpeople Lincoln enjoyed and shared much more than did his averageneighbor. He passed the greater part of what he would have called hisleisure time in swapping with his friends stories, in which the genialand humorous side of Western life was embodied. Doubtless his domesticunhappiness had much to do with his vagrancy; but his native instinctfor the wholesome and illuminating aspect of the life around him broughthim more frequently than any other cause to the club of loafers in thegeneral store. And whatever the promiscuous conversation and the racyyarns meant to his associates, they meant vastly more to Lincoln. Hishours of social vagrancy really completed the process of hisintellectual training. It relieved his culture from the taint ofbookishness. It gave substance to his humor. It humanized his wisdom andenabled him to express it in a familiar and dramatic form. It placed athis disposal, that is, the great classic vehicle of popular expression, which is the parable and the spoken word. 

Of course, it was just because he shared so completely the amusementsand the occupations of his neighbors that his private personal culturehad no embarrassing effects. Neither he nor his neighbors were in theleast aware that he had been placed thereby in a different intellectualclass. No doubt this loneliness and sadness of his personal life may bepartly explained by a dumb sense of difference from his fellows; and nodoubt this very loneliness and sadness intensified the mentalpreoccupation which was both the sign and the result of his personalculture. But his unconsciousness of his own distinction, as well as hisregular participation in political and professional practice, kept hiswill as firm and vigorous as if he were really no more than a man ofaction. His natural steadiness of purpose had been toughened in thebeginning by the hardships and struggles which he shared with hisneighbors; and his self-imposed intellectual discipline in no wayimpaired the stability of his character, because his personal culturenever alienated him from his neighbors and threw him into a consciouslycritical frame of mind. The time which he spent in intellectualdiversion may have diminished to some extent his practical efficiencyprevious to the gathering crisis. It certainly made him less inclined tothe aggressive self-assertion which a successful political careerdemanded. But when the crisis came, when the minds of Northern patriotswere stirred by the ugly alternative offered to them by the South, andwhen Lincoln was by the course of events restored to activeparticipation in politics, he soon showed that he had reached thehighest of all objects of personal culture. While still remaining one ofa body of men who, all unconsciously, impoverished their minds in orderto increase the momentum of their practical energy, he none the lessachieved for himself a mutually helpful relation between a firm will anda luminous intelligence. The training of his mind, the awakening of hisimagination, the formation of his taste and style, the humorousdramatizing of his experience, --all this discipline had failed topervert his character, narrow his sympathies, or undermine his purposes. His intelligence served to enlighten his will, and his will, toestablish the mature decisions of his intelligence. Late in life the twofaculties became in their exercise almost indistinguishable. Hisjudgments, in so far as they were decisive, were charged with momentum, and his actions were instinct with sympathy and understanding. 

Just because his actions were instinct with sympathy and understanding, Lincoln was certainly the most humane statesman who ever guided anation through a great crisis. He always regarded other men and actedtowards them, not merely as the embodiment of an erroneous or harmfulidea, but as human beings, capable of better things; and consequentlyall of his thoughts and actions looked in the direction of a higherlevel of human association. It is this characteristic which makes him abetter and, be it hoped, a more prophetic democrat than any othernational American leader. His peculiar distinction does not consist inthe fact that he was a "Man of the People" who passed from the conditionof splitting rails to the condition of being President. No doubt he wasin this respect as good a democrat as you please, and no doubt it wasdesirable that he should be this kind of a democrat. But many otherAmericans could be named who were also men of the people, and who passedfrom the most insignificant to the most honored positions in Americanlife. Lincoln's peculiar and permanent distinction as a democrat willdepend rather upon the fact that his thoughts and his actions lookedtowards the realization of the highest and most edifying democraticideal. Whatever his theories were, he showed by his general outlook andbehavior that democracy meant to him more than anything else the spiritand principle of brotherhood. He was the foremost to deny liberty to theSouth, and he had his sensible doubts about the equality between thenegro and the white man; but he actually treated everybody--the Southernrebel, the negro slave, the Northern deserter, the personal enemy--in ajust and kindly spirit. Neither was this kindliness merely an instanceof ordinary American amiability and good nature. It was the result, notof superficial feeling which could be easily ruffled, but of hispersonal, moral, and intellectual discipline. He had made for himself asecond nature, compact of insight and loving-kindness. 

It must be remembered, also, that this higher humanity resided in a manwho was the human instrument partly responsible for an awful amount ofslaughter and human anguish. He was not only the commander-in-chief of agreat army which fought a long and bloody war, but he was the statesmanwho had insisted that, if necessary, the war should be fought. Hismental attitude was dictated by a mixture of practical common sense withgenuine human insight, and it is just this mixture which makes him sorare a man and, be it hoped, so prophetic a democrat. He could at oneand the same moment order his countrymen to be killed for seeking todestroy the American nation and forgive them for their error. Hiskindliness and his brotherly feeling did not lead him, after the mannerof Jefferson, to shirk the necessity and duty of national defense. Neither did it lead him, after the manner of William Lloyd Garrison, toadvocate non-resistance, while at the same time arousing in hisfellow-countrymen a spirit of fratricidal warfare. In the midst of thathideous civil contest which was provoked, perhaps unnecessarily, byhatred, irresponsibility, passion, and disloyalty, and which has beenthe fruitful cause of national disloyalty down to the present day, Lincoln did not for a moment cherish a bitter or unjust feeling againstthe national enemies. The Southerners, filled as they were with apassionate democratic devotion to their own interests and liberties, abused Lincoln until they really came to believe that he was a militarytyrant, yet he never failed to treat them in a fair and forgivingspirit. When he was assassinated, it was the South, as well as theAmerican nation, which had lost its best friend, because he alone amongthe Republican leaders had the wisdom to see that the divided Housecould only be restored by justice and kindness; and if there are anydefects in its restoration to-day, they are chiefly due to the balefulspirit of injustice and hatred which the Republicans took over from theAbolitionists. 

His superiority to his political associates in constructivestatesmanship is measured by his superiority in personal character. There are many men who are able to forgive the enemies of their country, but there are few who can forgive their personal enemies. I need notrehearse the well-known instances of Lincoln's magnanimity. He not onlycherished no resentment against men who had intentionally and evenmaliciously injured him, but he seems at times to have gone out of hisway to do them a service. This is, perhaps, his greatest distinction. Lincoln's magnanimity is the final proof of the completeness of hisself-discipline. The quality of being magnanimous is both the consummatevirtue and the one which is least natural. It was certainly far frombeing natural among Lincoln's own people. Americans of his time weregenerally of the opinion that it was dishonorable to overlook apersonal injury. They considered it weak and unmanly not to quarrelwith another man a little harder than he quarreled with you. The pioneerwas good-natured and kindly; but he was aggressive, quick-tempered, unreasonable, and utterly devoid of personal discipline. A slight or aninsult to his personality became in his eyes a moral wrong which must becherished and avenged, and which relieved him of any obligation to bejust or kind to his enemy. Many conspicuous illustrations of thisquarrelsome spirit are to be found in the political life of the MiddlePeriod, which, indeed, cannot be understood without constantly fallingback upon the influence of lively personal resentments. Every prominentpolitician cordially disliked or hated a certain number of his politicaladversaries and associates; and his public actions were often dictatedby a purpose either to injure these men or to get ahead of them. Afterthe retirement of Jackson these enmities and resentments came to have asmaller influence; but a man's right and duty to quarrel with anybodywho, in his opinion, had done him an injury was unchallenged, and wasgenerally considered to be the necessary accompaniment of Americandemocratic virility. 

As I have intimated above, Andrew Jackson was the most conspicuousexample of this quarrelsome spirit, and for this reason he is whollyinferior to Lincoln as a type of democratic manhood. Jackson had manyadmirable qualities, and on the whole he served his country well. Healso was a "Man of the People" who understood and represented the massof his fellow-countrymen, and who played the part, according to hislights, of a courageous and independent political leader. He also lovedand defended the Union. But with all his excellence he should never beheld up as a model to American youth. The world was divided into hispersonal friends and followers and his personal enemies, and he was aseager to do the latter an injury as he was to do the former a service. His quarrels were not petty, because Jackson was, on the whole, a bigrather than a little man, but they were fierce and they were for themost part irreconcilable. They bulk so large in his life that theycannot be overlooked. They stamp him a type of the vindictive manwithout personal discipline, just as Lincoln's behavior towards Stanton, Chase, and others stamps him a type of the man who has achievedmagnanimity. He is the kind of national hero the admiring imitation ofwhom can do nothing but good. 

Lincoln had abandoned the illusion of his own peculiar personalimportance. He had become profoundly and sincerely humble, and hishumility was as far as possible from being either a conventional pose ora matter of nervous self-distrust. It did not impair the firmness of hiswill. It did not betray him into shirking responsibilities. Althoughonly a country lawyer without executive experience, he did not flinchfrom assuming the leadership of a great nation in one of the gravestcrises of its national history, from becoming commander-in-chief of anarmy of a million men, and from spending $3, 000, 000, 000 in theprosecution of a war. His humility, that is, was precisely an example ofmoral vitality and insight rather than of moral awkwardness andenfeeblement. It was the fruit of reflection on his own personalexperience--the supreme instance of his ability to attain moral truthboth in discipline and in idea; and in its aspect of a moral truth itobtained a more explicit expression than did some other of his finerpersonal attributes. His practice of cherishing and repeating theplaintive little verses which inquire monotonously whether the spirit ofmortal has any right to be proud indicates the depth and the highlyconscious character of this fundamental moral conviction. He is not onlyhumble himself, but he feels and declares that men have no right to beanything but humble; and he thereby enters into possession of the mostfruitful and the most universal of all religious ideas. 

Lincoln's humility, no less than his liberal intelligence and hismagnanimous disposition, is more democratic than it is American; but inthis, as in so many other cases, his personal moral dignity and hispeculiar moral insight did not separate him from his associates. Likethem, he wanted professional success, public office, and the ordinaryrewards of American life; and like them, he bears no trace of politicalor moral purism. But, unlike them, he was not the intellectual and moralvictim of his own purposes and ambitions; and unlike them, his life is atribute to the sincerity and depth of his moral insight. He could neverhave become a national leader by the ordinary road of insistent andclamorous self-assertion. Had he not been restored to public life bythe crisis, he would have remained in all probability a comparativelyobscure and a wholly under-valued man. But the political ferment of 1856and the threat of ruin overhanging the American Union pushed him againon to the political highway; and once there, his years of intellectualdiscipline enabled him to play a leading and a decisive part. Hispersonality obtained momentum, direction, and increasing dignity fromits identification with great issues and events. He became theindividual instrument whereby an essential and salutary national purposewas fulfilled; and the instrument was admirably effective, preciselybecause it had been silently and unconsciously tempered and formed forhigh achievement. Issue as he was of a society in which the cheap tool, whether mechanical or personal, was the immediately successful tool, hehad none the less labored long in the making of a consummate individualinstrument. 

Some of my readers may protest that I have over-emphasized thedifference between Lincoln and his contemporary fellow-countrymen. Inorder to exalt the leader have I not too much disparaged the followers?Well, a comparison of this kind always involves the risk of unfairness;but if there is much truth in the foregoing estimate of Lincoln, thelessons of the comparison are worth its inevitable risk. The ordinaryinterpretation of Lincoln as a consummate democrat and a "Man of thePeople" has implied that he was, like Jackson, simply a bigger and abetter version of the plain American citizen; and it is just thisinterpretation which I have sought to deny and to expose. In manyrespects he was, of course, very much like his neighbors and associates. He accepted everything wholesome and useful in their life and behavior. He shared their good-fellowship, their strength of will, their excellentfaith, and above all their innocence; and he could never have served hiscountry so well, or reached as high a level of personal dignity, in casehe had not been good-natured and strong and innocent. But, as allcommentators have noted, he was not only good-natured, strong andinnocent; he had made himself intellectually candid, concentrated, anddisinterested, and morally humane, magnanimous, and humble. All thesequalities, which were the very flower of his personal life, were notpossessed either by the average or the exceptional American of his day;and not only were they not possessed, but they were either whollyignored or consciously under-valued. Yet these very qualities of highintelligence, humanity, magnanimity and humility are precisely thequalities which Americans, in order to become better democrats, shouldadd to their strength, their homogeneity, and their innocence; while atthe same time they are just the qualities which Americans are preventedby their individualistic practice and tradition from attaining orproperly valuing. Their deepest convictions make the averageunintelligent man the representative democrat, and the aggressivesuccessful individual, the admirable national type; and in conformitywith these convictions their uppermost ideas in respect to Lincoln arethat he was a "Man of the People" and an example of strong will. He wasboth of these things, but his great distinction is that he was alsosomething vastly more and better. He cannot be fully understood andproperly valued as a national hero without an implicit criticism ofthose traditional convictions. Such a criticism he himself did not andcould not make. In case he had made it, he could never have achieved hisgreat political task and his great personal triumph. But other timesbring other needs. It is as desirable to-day that the criticism shouldbe made explicit as it was that Lincoln himself in his day shouldpreserve the innocence and integrity of a unique unconscious example. 

CHAPTER V

I

THE CONTEMPORARY SITUATION AND ITS PROBLEMS

It is important to recognize that the anti-slavery agitation, thesecession of the South, and the Civil War were, after all, only anepisode in the course of American national development. The episode wasdesperately serious. Like the acute illness of a strong man, it almostkilled its victim; and the crisis exposed certain weaknesses in ourpolitical organism, in the absence of which the illness would never havebecome acute. But the roots of our national vitality were apparentlyuntouched by the disease. When the crisis was over, the country resumedwith astonishing celerity the interrupted process of economic expansion. The germs of a severe disease, to which the Fathers of the Republic hadgiven a place in the national Constitution, and which had been allowedto flourish, because of the lack of wholesome cohesion in the bodypolitic--this alien growth had been cut out by a drastic surgicaloperation, and the robust patient soon recovered something like hisnormal health. Indeed, being in his own opinion even more robust than hewas before the crisis, he was more eager than ever to convert his goodhealth into the gold of satisfied desire. The ghost of slavery had beenbanished from our national banquet: and, relieved of this terror, theAmerican people began to show, more aggressively than ever before, theirability to provide and to consume a bountiful feast. They were no longerchildren, grasping at the first fruits of a half-cultivated wilderness. They were adults, beginning to plan the satisfaction of on appetitewhich had been sharpened by self-denial, and made self-conscious bymaturity. 

The North, after the war was over, did not have much time for seriousreflection upon its meaning and consequences. The Republican leaders didjust enough thinking to carry them through the crisis; but once therebellion was suppressed and the South partly de-nationalized in thename of reconstruction, the need and desire was for action rather thanfor thought. The anti-slavery agitation and the war had interrupted theprocess, which from the public point of view, was described as theeconomic development of the country, and which from an individualstandpoint meant the making of money. For many years Americans had beenunable, because of the ghost of slavery, to take full advantage of theirliberties and opportunities; and now that the specter was exorcised, they gladly put aside any anxious political preoccupations. Politicscould be left to the politicians. It was about time to get down tobusiness. In this happiest of all countries, and under this best of allgovernments, which had been preserved at such an awful cost, the goodAmerican was entitled to give his undivided attention to the great workof molding and equipping the continent for human habitation, andincidentally to the minor task of securing his share of the rewards. Alively, even a frenzied, outburst of industrial, commercial, andspeculative activity followed hard upon the restoration of peace. Thisactivity and its effects have been the most important fact in Americanlife during the forty years which have supervened; and it has assumedvery different characteristics from those which it had assumed previousto the War. We must now consider the circumstances, the consequences, and the meaning of this economic revolution. 

Although nobody in 1870 suspected it, the United States was enteringupon a new phase of its economic career; and the new economy wasbringing with it radical social changes. Even before the outbreak of theCivil War the rich and fertile states of the Middle West had become wellpopulated. They had passed from an almost exclusively agriculturaleconomy to one which was much more largely urban and industrial. Thefarms had become well-equipped; large cities were being built up;factories of various kinds were being established; and most important ofall, the whole industrial organization of the country was being adjustedto transportation by means of the railroad. An industrial community, which was, comparatively speaking, well-organized and well-furnishedwith machinery, was taking the place of the agricultural community of1830-1840, which was incoherent and scattered and which lackedeverything except energy and opportunity. Such an increase oforganization, capital, and equipment necessarily modified the outlookand interests of the people of the Middle West. While still retainingmany of their local traits, their point of view had been approaching incertain respects that of the inhabitants of the East. They had ceased tobe pioneers. 

During the two decades after the Civil War, the territory, which wasstill in the early stage of agricultural development, was the first andsecond tier of states west of the Mississippi River. Missouri, Iowa, andMinnesota, Kansas, Nebraska, and finally the Dakotas were being openedfor settlement; but in their case the effect and symptoms of thiscondition were not the same as they had been with the earlier pioneerstates. Their economy was from the beginning adjusted to the railroad;and the railroad had made an essential difference. It worked in favor ofa more comprehensive and definite organization and a more completeequipment. While the business interests of the new states were and stillare predominantly agricultural, the railroads had transformed theoccupation of farming. After 1870, the pioneer farmer was much lessdependent than he had been upon local conditions and markets, and uponthe unaided exertions of himself and his neighbors. He bought and soldin the markets of the world. He needed more capital and more machinery. He had to borrow money and make shrewd business calculations. From everystandpoint his economic environment had become more complicated and moreextended, and his success depended much more upon conditions which werebeyond his control. He never was a pioneer in the sense that the earlyinhabitants of the Middle West and South had been pioneers; and he hasnever exercised any corresponding influence upon the American nationaltemper. The pioneer had enjoyed his day, and his day was over. TheJack-of-all-trades no longer possessed an important economic function. The average farmer was, of course, still obliged to be many kinds of arough mechanic, but for the most part he was nothing more than a farmer. Unskilled labor began to mean labor which was insignificant and badlypaid. Industrial economy demanded the expert with his high and specialstandards of achievement. The railroads and factories could not befinanced and operated without the assistance of well-paid andwell-trained men, who could do one or two things remarkably well, andwho did not pretend to do much of anything else. These men had to retaingreat flexibility and an easy adaptability of intelligence, becauseAmerican industry and commerce remained very quick in its movements. Themachinery which they handled was less permanent, and was intended to beless permanent than the machinery which was considered economical inEurope. But although they had to avoid routine and business rigidity onthe penalty of utter failure, still they belonged essentially to a classof experts. Like all experts, they had to depend, not upon mere energy, untutored enthusiasm, and good-will, but upon careful training andsingle-minded devotion to a special task, and at the same time properprovision had to be made for coördinating the results of this highlyspecialized work. More complete organization necessarily accompaniedspecialization. The expert became a part of a great industrial machine. His individuality tended to disappear in his work. His interests becamethose of a group. Imperative economic necessities began to classify theindividuals composing American society in the same way, if not to thesame extent, that they had been classified in Europe. 

This was a result which had never entered into the calculations of thepioneer Democrat. He had disliked specialization, because, as hethought, it narrowed and impoverished the individual; and he distrustedpermanent and official forms of organization, because, as he thought, they hampered the individual. His whole political, social, and economicoutlook embodied a society of energetic, optimistic, and prosperousdemocrats, united by much the same interests, occupations, and point ofview. Each of these democrats was to be essentially an all-round man. His conception of all-round manhood was somewhat limited; but it meantat least a person who was expansive in feeling, who was enough of abusiness man successfully to pursue his own interests, and enough of apolitician to prevent any infringement or perversion of his rights. Henever doubted that the desired combination of business man, politician, and good fellow constituted an excellent ideal of democraticindividuality, that it was sufficiently realized in the average WesternAmerican of the Jacksonian epoch, that it would continue to be the typeof admirable manhood, and that the good democrats embodying this typewould continue to merit and to obtain substantial and approximatelyequal pecuniary rewards. Moreover, for a long time the vision remainedsufficiently true. The typical American democrat described by DeTocqueville corresponded very well with the vision of the pioneer; andhe did not disappear during the succeeding generation. For many yearsmillions of Americans of much the same pattern were rewarded for theirdemocratic virtue in an approximately similar manner. Of course somepeople were poor, and some people were rich; but there was no class ofthe very rich, and the poverty of the poor was generally their ownfault. Opportunity knocked at the door of every man, and the poor man ofto-day was the prosperous householder of to-morrow. For a long timeAmerican social and economic conditions were not merely fluid, butconsistent and homogeneous, and the vision of the pioneer was fulfilled. Nevertheless, this condition was essentially transient. It containedwithin itself the seeds of its own dissolution and transformation; andthis transformation made headway just as soon as, and just as far as, economic conditions began to prefer the man who was capable ofspecializing his work, and of organizing it with the work of hisfellows. 

The dominant note, consequently, of the pioneer period was an unformednational consistency, reached by means of a natural community of feelingand a general similarity of occupation and well-being. On the otherhand, the dominant note of the period from 1870 until the present dayhas been the gradual disintegration of this early national consistency, brought about by economic forces making for specialization andorganization in all practical affairs, for social classification, andfinally for greater individual distinction. Moreover, the tendencytowards specialization first began to undermine the very corner-stone ofthe pioneer's democratic edifice. If private interest and public wealwere to be as harmonious as the pioneer assumed, every economic producermust be a practical politician, and there must be no deep-lying divisionbetween these primary activities. But the very first result of thespecializing tendency was to send the man of business, the politician, and the lawyer off on separate tacks. Business interests became soabsorbing that they demanded all of a man's time and energy; and he wasobliged to neglect politics except in so far as politics affectedbusiness. In this same way, the successful lawyers after the War wereless apt than formerly to become politicians and statesmen. They leftpublic affairs largely to the unsuccessful lawyers. Politics itselfbecame an occupation which made very exacting demands upon a man's timeand upon his conscience. Public service or military success were nolonger the best roads to public distinction. Men became renowned anddistinguished quite as much, if not more, for achievements in theirprivate and special occupations. Along with leadership of statesmen andgenerals, the American people began to recognize that of financiers, "captains of industry, " corporation lawyers, political and labor"bosses, " and these gentlemen assumed extremely important parts in thedirection of American affairs. Officially, the new leaders were justlike any other American citizen. No titles could be conferred upon them, and their position brought with it no necessary public responsibilities. Actually, however, they exercised in many cases more influence uponAmerican social and political economy than did the official leaders. They were an intrusion, into the traditional economic political andsocial system, for which no provision had been made. Their specialinterests, and the necessities of their special tasks, made their mannerof life different from that of other American citizens, and theirpeculiar opportunities enabled them to appropriate an unusually largeshare of the fruits of American economic development. Thus theyseriously impaired the social and economic homogeneity, which thepioneer believed to be the essential quality of fruitful Americanism. 

II

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE BUSINESS SPECIALIST

Before seeking to trace the consequences and the significance of thisspecialized organization of American practical affairs, we must examineits origin with some care. An exact and complete understanding thereofwill in itself afford an unmistakable hint of the way in which itsconsequences are to be appraised, and wherever necessary, corrected. Thegreat and increasing influence of the new unofficial leaders has beendue not only to economic conditions and to individual initiative, butto the nature of our political ideas and institutions. The traditionalAmerican theory was that the individual should have a free hand. In sofar as he was subject to public regulation and control such controlshould be exercised by local authorities, whereof the result would be ahappy combination of individual prosperity and public weal. But thisexpectation, as we have seen, has proved to be erroneous. While it has, indeed, resulted in individual prosperity, the individual who has reapedmost of the prosperity is not the average, but the special man; andhowever the public may have benefited from the process, the benefit ismixed with so many drawbacks that, even if it may not be whollycondemned, it certainly cannot be wholly approved. The plain fact isthat the individual in freely and energetically pursuing his own privatepurposes has not been the inevitable public benefactor assumed by thetraditional American interpretation of democracy. No doubt he hasincidentally accomplished, in the pursuit of his own aggrandizement, certain manifest public benefits; but wherever public and privateadvantages have conflicted, he has naturally preferred the latter. Andunder our traditional political system there was, until recently, noeffective way of correcting his preference. 

As long as the economic opportunities of American life consisted chieflyin the appropriation and improvement of uncultivated land, the averageenergetic man had no difficulty in obtaining his fair share of theincreasing American economic product; but the time came when suchopportunities, although still important, were dwarfed by otheropportunities, incident to the development of a more mature economicsystem. These opportunities, which were, of course, connected with themanufacturing, industrial, and technical development of the country, demanded under American conditions a very special type of man--the manwho would bring to his task not merely energy, but unscrupulousdevotion, originality, daring, and in the course of time a large fund ofinstructive experience. The early American industrial conditionsdiffered from those of Europe in that they were fluid, and as a resultof this instability, extremely precarious. Rapid changes in markets, business methods, and industrial machinery made it very difficult tobuild up a safe business. A manufacturer or a merchant could not securehis business salvation, as in Europe, merely by the adoption of soundconservative methods. The American business man had greateropportunities and a freer hand than his European prototype; but he wasalso beset by more severe, more unscrupulous, and more dangerouscompetition. The industrious and thrifty farmer could be tolerably sureof a modest competence, due partly to his own efforts, and partly to theincreased value of his land in a more populous community; but thebusiness man had no such security. In his case it was war to the knife. He was presented with a choice between aggressive daring businessoperations, and financial insignificance or ruin. 

No doubt this situation was due as much to the temper of the Americanbusiness man as to his economic environment. American energy had beenconsecrated to economic development. The business man in seeking torealize his ambitions and purposes was checked neither by governmentcontrol nor social custom. He had nothing to do and nothing to considerexcept his own business advancement and success. He was eager, strenuous, and impatient. He liked the excitement and the risk of largeoperations. The capital at his command was generally too small for thesafe and conservative conduct of his business; and he was consequentlyobliged to be adventurous, or else to be left behind in the race. Hemight well be earning enormous profits one year and skirting bankruptcythe next. Under such a stress conservatism and caution were suicidal. Itwas the instinct of self-preservation, as well as the spirit of businessadventure, which kept him constantly seeking for larger markets, improved methods, or for some peculiar means of getting ahead of hiscompetitors. He had no fortress behind which he could hide and enjoy hisconquests. Surrounded as he was by aggressive enemies and undefendedfrontiers, his best means of security lay in a policy of constantinnovation and expansion. Moreover, even after he had obtained thebulwark of sufficient capital and more settled industrial surroundings, he was under no temptation to quit and enjoy the spoils of hisconquests. The social, intellectual, or even the more vulgar pleasures, afforded by leisure and wealth, could bring him no thrill, which wasanything like as intense as that derived from the exercise of hisbusiness ability and power. He could not conquer except by virtue of astrong, tenacious, adventurous, and unscrupulous will; and after he hadconquered, this will had him in complete possession. He had nothing todo but to play the game to the end--even though his additional profitswere of no living use to him. 

If, however, the fluid and fluctuating nature of American economicconditions and the fierceness of American competitive methods turnedbusiness into a state of dangerous and aggressive warfare, the steadyand enormous expansion of the American markets made the rewards ofvictory correspondingly great. Not only was the population of thecountry increasing at an enormous rate, but the demand for certainnecessary products, services, and commodities was increasing at a higherrate than the population. The American people were still a mosthomogeneous collection of human beings. They wanted very much the samethings; they wanted more of these things year after year; and theyimmediately rewarded any cheapening of the product by buying it in muchlarger quantities. The great business opportunities of American lifeconsisted, consequently, in supplying some popular or necessary articleor service at a cheaper price than that at which any one else couldfurnish it; and the great effort of American business men was, ofcourse, to obtain some advantage over their competitors in producingsuch an article or in supplying such a service. The best result of thiscondition was a constant improvement in the mechanism of production. Cheapness was found to depend largely upon the efficient use ofmachinery, and the efficient use of machinery was found to depend uponconstant wear and quick replacement by a better machine. But while theeconomic advantage of the exhausting use and the constant improvement ofmachinery was the most important economic discovery of the Americanbusiness man, he was also encouraged by his surroundings to seekeconomies in other and less legitimate ways. It was all very well tomultiply machines and make them more efficient, but similar improvementswere open to competitors. The great object was to obtain some advantagewhich was denied to your competitors. Then the business man could notonly secure his own position, but utterly rout and annihilate hisadversaries. 

At this point the railroads came to the assistance of the aggressive andunscrupulous business man. They gave such men an advantage over theircompetitors by granting them special rates; and inasmuch as thispractice has played a decisive part in American business development, its effect and its meaning, frequently as they have been pointed out, must be carefully traced. 

The railroads themselves are, perhaps, the most perfect illustration ofthe profits which accrue in a rapidly growing country from thepossession of certain advantages in supplying to the public anindispensable service. They were not built, as in most European states, under national supervision and regulation, or according to a generalplan which prevented unnecessary competition. Their routes and theirmethods were due almost entirely to private enterprise and to localeconomic necessities. They originated in local lines radiating fromlarge cities; and only very slowly did their organization come tocorrespond with the great national routes of trade. The process ofbuilding up the leading systems was in the beginning a process ofcombining the local roads into important trunk lines. Such combinationswere enormously profitable, because the business of the consolidatedroads increased in a much larger proportion than did the cost offinancing end operating the larger mileage; and after the combinationswere made the owners of the consolidated road were precisely in theposition of men who had obtained a certain strategic advantage insupplying a necessary service to their fellow-countrymen. Theirterminals, rights of way, and machinery could not be duplicated exceptat an increased cost, and their owners were in a position necessarily tobenefit from the growth of the country in industry and population. Nodoubt their economic position was in certain respects precarious. Theydid not escape the necessity, to which other American businessenterprises had to submit, of fighting for a sufficient share of thespoils. But in making the fight, they had acquired certain advantageswhich, if they were intelligently used, would necessarily result invictory; and as we all know, these advantages have proved to besufficient. The railroads have been the greatest single source of largeAmerican fortunes, and the men who control the large railroad systemsare the most powerful and conspicuous American industrial leaders. 

Important, however, as has been the direct effect of big railroadsystems on the industrial economy of the country, their indirect effectshave probably been even more important. In one way or another, they havebeen the most effective of all agencies working for the largerorganization of American industries. Probably such an organization wasbound to have come in any event, because the standard economic needs ofmillions of thrifty democrats could in the long run be most cheaplysatisfied by means of well-situated and fully equipped industrial plantsof the largest size; but the railroad both hastened this result anddetermined its peculiar character. The population of the United Statesis so scattered, its distances so huge, and its variations intopographical level so great, that its industries would necessarily haveremained very local in character, as long as its system oftransportation depended chiefly upon waterways and highways. Some kindof quick transportation across country was, consequently, anindispensable condition of the national organization of Americanindustry and commerce. The railroad not only supplied this need, butcoming as it did pretty much at the beginning of our industrialdevelopment, it largely modified and determined the character thereof. By considerably increasing the area within which the products of any onelocality could be profitably sold, it worked naturally in favor of theconcentration of a few large factories in peculiarly favorablelocations; and this natural process was accelerated by the policy whichthe larger companies adopted in the making of their rates. The rapidgrowth of big producing establishments was forced, because of therebates granted to them by the railroads. Without such rebates the largemanufacturing corporation controlled by a few individuals might stillhave come into existence; but these individuals would have been neitheras powerful as they now are, nor as opulent, nor as much subject tosuspicion. 

It is peculiarly desirable to understand, consequently, just how theserebates came to be granted. It was, apparently, contrary to the interestof the railroad companies to cut their rates for the benefit of any oneclass of customers; and it was, also, an illegal practice, which had tobe carried on by secret and underhand methods. Almost all the state lawsunder which corporations engaged in transportation had been organized, had defined railways, like highways, as public necessities. Suchcorporations had usually been granted by the states the power to condemnland, --and the delegation of such a power to a private company meant, ofcourse, that it owed certain responsibilities to the public as a commoncarrier, among which the responsibility of not allowing specialprivileges to any one customer was manifestly to be included. When therailroad managers have been asked why they cut their published rates andevaded the laws, they have always contended that they were forced to doso; and whatever may be thought of the plea, it cannot be lightly setaside. As we have seen, the trunk lines leading from Chicago to thecoast were the result of the consolidation of local roads. After theconsolidations had taken place, these companies began to competefiercely for through freight, and the rebates were an incident in thiscompetition. The trunk lines in the early years of their existence werein the position of many other American business enterprises. For thetime being, they were more than competent to carry all the freightoffered at competitive points. Inasmuch as there was not enough to goaround, they fought mercilessly for what business there was. When alarge individual shipper was prepared to guarantee them a certain amountof freight in return for special rates, they were obliged either togrant the rates or to lose the business. Of course they submitted, anddefended their submission as a measure of self-preservation. 

No great intelligence is required to detect in this situation theevidence of a vicious circle. The absorption of Americans in businessaffairs, and the free hand which the structure and ideals of Americanlife granted them, had made business competition a fierce and mercilessaffair; while at the same time the fluid nature of American economicconditions made success very precarious. Every shrewd and resolute manwould seek to secure himself against the dangers of this situation bymeans of special advantages, and the most effective of all specialadvantages would, of course, be special railroad rates. But a shippersuch as John D. Rockefeller could obtain special rates only because therailroads were in a position similar to his own, and were fightingstrenuously for supremacy. The favored shipper and the railroad bothexcused themselves on the ground of self-preservation, and sometimeseven claimed that it was just for a large shipper to obtain better ratesthan a small one. This was all very well for the larger shipper and therailroad, but in the meantime what became of the small shipper, whom Mr. Rockefeller was enabled to annihilate by means of his contracts with therailroad companies? The small shipper saw himself forced out ofbusiness, because corporations to whom the state had granted specialprivileges as common carriers, had a private interest in doing businesswith his bigger, more daring, and unscrupulous competitors. 

Of course no such result could have happened, if at any point in thisvicious circle of private interests, there had been asserted a dominantpublic interest; and there are several points at which such an interestmight well have been intruded. The circle would have been broken, if, for instance, the granting of illegal rebates had been effectivelyprohibited; but as a matter of fact they could not be effectivelyprohibited by the public authorities, to whom either the railroads orthe large shippers were technically responsible. A shipper of oil inCleveland, Ohio, would have a difficult time in protesting againstillegal discrimination on the part of a railroad conducting aninter-state business and organized under the laws of New York. No doubthe could appeal to the Federal government; but the Federal governmenthad been, for the time being, disqualified by many different causes fromeffective interference. In the first place there was to be overcome theconventional democratic prejudice against what was calledcentralization. A tradition of local control over the machinery oftransit and transportation was dominant during the early period ofrailroad construction. The fact that railways would finally become theall-important vehicles of inter-state commerce was either overlooked orconsidered unimportant. The general government did not interfere--exceptwhen, as in the case of the Pacific lines, its interference andassistance were solicited by private interests. For a long time the ideathat the Federal government had any general responsibility in respect tothe national transportation system was devoid of practical consequences. 

In the end an Inter-state Commerce law was passed, in which thepresence of a national interest in respect to the American system oftransportation was recognized. But this law, like our tariff laws, wasframed for the benefit chiefly of a combination of local and specialinterests; and it served little to advance any genuine national interestin relation to the railroads. To be sure it did forbid rebates, but themachinery for enforcing the prohibition was inefficient, and duringanother twenty years the prohibition remained substantially a deadletter. The provisions of the law forbidding rebates were in truthmerely a bit of legal hypocrisy. Rebates could not be openly defended;but the business of the country was honeycombed with them, and themajority of the shippers in whose interest the law was passed did notwant the prohibition enforced. Their influence at Washington wassufficiently powerful to prevent the adoption of any effective measuresfor the abatement of the evil. The Federal Inter-state CommerceCommission, unlike the local authorities, would have been fullycompetent to abolish rebates; but the plain truth was that the effectivepublic opinion in the business world either supported the evil orconnived at it. The private interests at stake were, for the time being, too strong for the public interest. The whole American businesstradition was opposed to government interference with prevailingbusiness practices; and in view of this fact the responsibility for therebates cannot be fixed merely upon the railroads and the trusts. TheAmerican system had licensed energetic and unscrupulous individualaggrandizement as the best means of securing a public benefit; andrebates were merely a flagrant instance of the extent to which publicopinion permitted the domination of private interests. 

The failure of the Federal government to protect the public interest ina matter over which the state governments had no effective control, hasgreatly accelerated the organization of American industries on anational scale, but for private and special purposes. Certainindividuals controlling certain corporations were enabled to obtain adecided advantage in supplying certain services and products to theenormously increasing American market; and once those individuals andcorporations had obtained dominant positions, it was in their interestto strengthen one another's hands in every possible way. One bigcorporation has as a rule preferred to do business with another bigcorporation. They were all of them producing some standard commodity orservice, and it is part of the economical conduct of such businesses tobuy and sell so far as possible in large quantities and under longcontracts. Such contracts reduced to a comparatively low level thenecessary uncertainties of business. It enabled the managers of thesecorporations to count upon a certain market for their product or acertain cost for part of their raw material; and it must be rememberedthat the chief object of this whole work of industrial organization wasto diminish the hazards of unregulated competition and to subject largebusiness operations to effective control. A conspicuous instance of theeffect of such interests and motives may be seen in the lease of the orelands belonging to the Great Northern Railroad to the United StatesSteel Corporation. The railroad company owned the largest body of goodore in the country outside of the control of the Steel Corporation, andif these lands had been leased to many small companies, the ability ofthe independent steel manufacturers to compete with the big steelcompany would have been very much increased. But the Great NorthernRailroad Company found it simpler and more secure to do business withone large than a number of small companies; and in this way the SteelCorporation has obtained almost a monopoly of the raw material mostnecessary to the production of finished steel. It will be understood, consequently, how inevitably these big corporations strengthen oneanother's hands; and it must be added that they had political as well aseconomic motives for so doing. Although the big fellows sometimesindulge in the luxury of fierce fighting, such fights are always theprelude to still closer agreements. They are all embarked in the sameboat; and surrounded as they are by an increasing amount of enmity, provoked by their aggrandizement, they have every reason to lend oneanother constant and effective support. 

There may be discerned in this peculiar organization of Americanindustry an entangling alliance between a wholesome and a balefultendency. The purpose which prompted men like John D. Rockefeller toescape from the savage warfare in which so many American business menwere engaged, was in itself a justifiable and ameliorating purpose. Competition in American business was insufficiently moderated either bythe state or by the prevailing temper of American life. No sensible andresourceful man will submit to such a precarious existence withoutmaking some attempt to escape from it; and if the means which Mr. Rockefeller and others took to secure themselves served to make thebusiness lives of their competitors still more precarious, such a resultwas only the expiation which American business men were obliged to payfor their own excesses. The concentrated leadership, the partialcontrol, the thorough organization thereby effected, was not necessarilya bad thing. It was in some respects a decidedly good thing, becauseleadership of any kind has certain intrinsic advantages. The trusts havecertainly succeeded in reducing the amount of waste which wasnecessitated by the earlier condition of wholly unregulated competition. The competitive methods of nature have been, and still are, withinlimits indispensable; but the whole effort of civilization has been toreduce the area within which they are desirably effective; and it isentirely possible that in the end the American system of industrialorganization will constitute a genuine advance in industrial economy. Large corporations, which can afford the best machinery; which controlabundant capital, and which can plan with scrupulous economy all thedetails of producing and selling an important product or service, areactually able to reduce the cost of production to a minimum; and in thecases of certain American corporations such results have actually beenachieved. The new organization of American industry has created aneconomic mechanism which is capable of being wonderfully andindefinitely serviceable to the American people. 

On the other hand, its serviceability is much diminished by the specialopportunities it gives a few individuals. These opportunities do notamount in any case to a monopoly, but they do amount to a species ofeconomic privilege which enable them to wring profits from theincreasing American market disproportionate to the value of theireconomic services. What is still more unfortunate, however, is theequivocal position of these big corporations in respect to the lawsunder which they are organized, and in respect to the publicauthorities which are supposed to control them. Many of the largerailway and industrial corporations have reached their present sizepartly by an evasion or a defiance of the law. Their organizers tookadvantage of the American system of local self-government and theAmerican disposition to reduce the functions of the Federal governmentto a minimum--they took advantage of these legal conditions andpolitical ideas to organize an industrial machinery which cannot beeffectively reached by local statutes and officials. The favorablecorporation laws of some states have been used as a means of preyingupon the whole country; and the unfavorable corporation laws of otherstates have been practically nullified. The big corporations have provedto be too big and powerful for the laws and officials to which theAmerican political system has subjected them; and their equivocal legalposition has resulted in the corruption of American public life and inthe serious deterioration of our system of local government. 

The net result of the industrial expansion of the United States sincethe Civil War has been the establishment in the heart of the Americaneconomic and social system of certain glaring inequalities of conditionand power. The greater American railroad and industrial corporationscontrol resources and conduct operations on a scale unprecedented in theeconomic history of the world. The great American industrial leadershave accumulated fortunes for which there is also no precedent on thepart of men who exercise no official political power. These inequalitiesare the result of the organization of American industry on almost anational scale, --an organization which was brought about as a means ofescape from the intolerable evils of unregulated competition. Everyaspect of American business methods has helped to make them inevitable, and the responsibility for them must be distributed over the wholebusiness and social fabric. But in spite of the fact that they haveoriginated as the inevitable result of American business methods andpolitical ideas and institutions, they constitute a serious problem fora democracy to face; and this problem has many different aspects. Itsmost serious aspect is constituted by the sheer size of the resultinginequalities. The rich men and the big corporations have become toowealthy and powerful for their official standing in American life. Theyhave not obeyed the laws. They have attempted to control the officialmakers, administrators, and expounders of the law. They have done littleto allay and much to excite the resentment and suspicion. In short, while their work has been constructive from an economic and industrialstandpoint, it has made for political corruption and socialdisintegration. Children, as they are, of the traditional Americanindividualistic institutions, ideas, and practices, they have turned ontheir parents and dealt them an ugly wound. Either these economicmonsters will destroy the system of ideas, institutions, and practicesout of which they have issued or else be destroyed by them. 

III

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE POLITICAL SPECIALIST

The corporations were able to secure and to exercise an excessive andcorrupt influence on legislation, because their aggrandizement coincidedwith a process of deterioration in our local political institutions. Wehave seen that the stress of economic competition had specialized theAmerican business man and made him almost exclusively preoccupied withthe advancement of his own private interests; and one of the firstresults of this specialization was an alteration in his attitude towardsthe political welfare of his country. Not only did he no longer give asmuch time to politics as he formerly did, but as his business increasedin size and scope, he found his own interests by way of conflicting atmany points with the laws of his country and with its well-being. He didnot take this conflict very seriously. He was still reflected in themirror of his own mind as a patriotic and a public-spirited citizen; butat the same time his ambition was to conquer, and he did not scruple tosacrifice both the law and the public weal to his own prosperity. Allunknowingly he began to testify to a growing and a decisive divisionbetween the two primary interests of American life, --between theinterest of the individual business man and the interest of the bodypolitic; and he became a living refutation of the amiable theories ofthe Jacksonian Democrat that the two must substantially coincide. Thebusiness man had become merely a business man, and the conditions whichhad made him less of a politician had also had its effect upon the menwhose business was that of politics. Just as business had becomespecialized and organized, so politics also became subject tospecialization and organization. The appearance of the "Captain ofIndustry" was almost coincident with the appearance of the "Boss. "

There has been a disposition to treat the "Boss" chiefly as thepolitical creature of the corrupt corporation; and it is undoubtedlytrue that one of the most important functions of the municipal and state"Bosses" has been that of conducting negotiations with the corporations. But to consider the specialized organization of our local politics asthe direct result of specialized organization of American business iswholly to misunderstand its significance. The two processes are theparallel effects of the same conditions and ideas working in differentfields. Business efficiency under the conditions prevailing in ourpolitical and economic fabric demanded the "Captain of Industry. "Political efficiency under our system of local government demanded the"Boss. " The latter is an independent power who has his own specialreasons for existence. He put in an embryonic appearance long before thelarge corporations had obtained anything like their existing power inAmerican politics; and he will survive in some form their reduction topolitical insignificance. He has been a genuine and within limits auseful product of the American democracy; and it would be fatal eitherto undervalue or to misunderstand him. 

The American system of local self-government encouraged the creation ofthe political "Boss, " because it required such an enormous amount ofpolitical business. Some one was needed to transact this business, andthe professional politician was developed to supply the need. There wasno reason why such a need should have existed; because the amount ofpolitical business incident to state government could have been verymuch economized by a simpler method of organization. But Americandemocratic ideas during the years when the state governments took formwere wholly opposed to simplicity of organization. The stateconstitutions adopted during the period of Jacksonian supremacy seemdesigned to make local government costly in time and energy andirresponsible in action; and they provided the legal scenery in themidst of which the professional politician became the only effectivehero. 

The state constitutions were all very much influenced by the Federalinstrument, but in the copies many attempts were made to improve uponthe model. The Democracy had come to believe that the FederalConstitution tended to encourage independence and even specialefficiency on the part of Federal officials; and it proposed to correctsuch an erroneous tendency in the more thoroughly democratic stategovernments. No attempt was, indeed, made to deprive the executive andthe judicial officials of independence by making them the creatures ofthe legislative branch; for such a change, although conforming toearlier democratic ideas, would have looked in the direction of aconcentration of responsibility. The far more insidious course wasadopted of keeping the executive, the judicial, and the legislativebranches of the government technically separate, while at the same timedepriving all three of any genuine independence and efficiency. The termof the executive, for instance, was not allowed to exceed one or twoyears. The importance of his functions was diminished. His power ofappointment was curtailed. Many of his most important executiveassistants were elected by popular vote and made independent of him. Insome few instances he was even deprived of a qualified veto uponlegislation. But the legislature itself was not treated much better. Instead of deriving its power from a short constitution which conferredupon it full legislative responsibilities and powers, the tendency hasbeen to incorporate an enormous mass of special and detailed legislationin the fundamental law, and so to diminish indefinitely the power of thelegislative branch either to be useful or dangerous. Finally statejudges instead of being appointed for life were usually elected forlimited terms, so that they could scarcely avoid being more "amenable topublic opinion. " The tendency in every respect was to multiply electionsand elective officials, divide responsibility and power, and destroyindependence. The more "democratic" these constitutions became, the moreclearly the Democracy showed its disposition to distrust its ownrepresentatives, and to deprive them of any chance of being genuinelyrepresentative. 

The object of the Jacksonion Democrat in framing constitutions of thiskind was to keep political power in the hands of the "plain people, " andto forestall the domination of administrative and legislativespecialists. The effect was precisely the opposite. They afforded thepolitical specialist a wonderful opportunity. The ordinary Americancould not pretend to give as much time to politics as the smoothoperation of this complicated machine demanded; and little by littlethere emerged in different parts of the country a class of politicianswho spent all their time in nominating and electing candidates to thesenumerous offices. The officials so elected, instead of being responsibleto the people, were responsible to the men to whom they owed theiroffices; and their own individual official power was usually so smallthat they could not put what little independence they possessed to anygood use. As a matter of fact, they used their official powers chieflyfor the benefit of their creators. They appointed to office the men whomthe "Bosses" selected. They passed the measures which the machinedemanded. In this way the professional politician gradually obtained astock of political goods wherewith to maintain and increase his power. Reënforced by the introduction of the spoils system first into the stateand then into the Federal civil services, a process of local politicalorganization began after 1830 to make rapid headway. Local leadersappeared in different parts of the country who little by little relievedthe farmer and the business man of the cares and preoccupations ofgovernment. In the beginning the most efficient of these politicianswere usually Jacksonian Democrats, and they ruled both in the name ofthe people and by virtue of a sturdy popular following. They graduallyincreased in power, until in the years succeeding the war they becamethe dominant influence in local American politics, and had won the rightto be called something which they would never have dared to callthemselves, viz. A governing class. 

While the local "Boss" nearly always belonged to the political partydominant in his neighborhood, so that he could in ordinary electionsdepend upon the regular party vote, still the real source of his powerconsisted in a band of personal retainers; and the means by which suchgroups were collected and held together contain a curious mixture ofcorruption and democracy. In the first place the local leader had to bea "good fellow" who lived in the midst of his followers and knew allabout them. His influence was entirely dependent upon personalkindliness, loyalty, and good-comradeship. He was socially the playmateand the equal of his followers, and the relations among them werecharacterized by many admirable qualities. The group was within limits agenuine example of social democracy, and was founded on mutualunderstanding, good-will, and assistance. The leader used his officialand unofficial power to obtain jobs for his followers. He succored themwhen in need; he sometimes protected them against the invidious activityof the police or the prosecuting attorneys; he provided excursions andpicnics for them in hot weather; he tied them to himself by a thousandbonds of interest and association; he organized them into a clan, whosupported him blindly at elections in return for a deal of personalkindliness and a multitude of small services; he became their genuinerepresentative, whether official or not, because he represented theirmost vital interests and satisfied their most pressing and intimateneeds. 

The general method of political organization indicated above wasperfected in the two decades succeeding the Civil War. The Americandemocracy was divided politically into a multitude of small groups, organized chiefly for the purpose of securing the local and individualinterests of these groups and their leaders, and supported by local andpersonal feeling, political patronage, and petty "graft. " These groupswere associated with both parties, and merely made the use of partisanties and cries to secure the coöperation of more disinterested voters. The result was that so far as American political representation wasmerely local, it was generally corrupt, and it was always selfish. Theleader's power depended absolutely on an appeal to the individual, neighborhood, and class interests of his followers. They were the"people"; he was the popular tribune. He could not retain his power fora month, in case he failed to subordinate every larger interest to theflattery, cajolery, and nourishment of his local clan. Thus the localrepresentative system was poisoned at its source. The alderman, theassemblyman, or the congressman, even if he were an honest man, represented little more than the political powers controlling hisdistrict; and to be disinterested in local politics was usuallyequivalent to being indifferent. 

Although these local clans were the basis of American politicalorganization, they were not, of course, its ultimate fruit. In many ofthe cities, large and small, and in some of the states the leaders ofthe local groups were subordinated to one of their number who became thereal "Boss" and who strengthened the district organizations by using fortheir benefit the municipal, state, and Federal patronage. The relationof the municipal or state "Boss" to the district leaders was similar tothe relation which the district leader bore to his more importantretainers. The "Boss" first obtained his primacy by means of diplomaticskill or force of character; and his ability to retain it depended uponhis ability to satisfy the demands of the district leaders forpatronage, while at the same time leading the organization to victory inthe local elections. His special duties as "Boss" required personalprestige, strength of will, power of persuasive talking, good judgmentof men, loyalty to his promises and his followers, and a complete lackof scruple. Unlike the district leader, however, the municipal "Boss"has tended to become a secretive and somewhat lonely person, who carriedon his business behind closed doors, and on whom was visited the odiumincurred by this whole system of political organization. The districtleader either does not incur or is less affected by this odium, becausehis social status is precisely that of his followers. The "Boss, " on theother hand, by this wealth and public position would naturally be animportant member of the society in which he lives, whereas as a matterof fact he has come to be ostracized because of the source of his powerand wealth. His leadership over-reached the district clan, which wasreal social basis; and the consequence was that the "Boss" became, toall appearances, a very unpopular man in the democracy which he ruled. 

His secretiveness and his unpopularity point to one of the mostimportant functions of the municipal and state "Bosses, " to which as yetonly incidental reference has been made. The "Boss" became the man whonegotiated with the corporations, and through whom they obtained whatthey wanted. We have already seen that the large corporation, particularly those owning railroad and municipal franchises, have foundthat the purchase of a certain amount of political power was a necessaryconsequence of their dubious legal position. A traffic of this kind wasnot one, of course, to which many people could be admitted. It must betransmitted in secret, and by people who possessed full authority. Anagreement to secure certain franchises or certain needed legislation inreturn for certain personal or party favors was not an agreement whichcould be made between a board of directors and a group of districtleaders. If a large number of people were familiar with the details ofsuch negotiations, something more than a hint thereof would be sure toleak out; and unquestionably the fact that a traffic of this kind waspart of the political game had much to do with the ability of themunicipal or state "Boss" to obtain and to keep his power. The profitsnot only enabled him to increase party funds and to line his ownpockets, but it also furnished him with a useful and abundant source ofpatronage. He could get positions for the political henchmen of hisdistrict leaders, not only with the local and state governments, butwith the corporations. Thus every "Boss, " even those whose influence didnot extend beyond an election district, was more or less completelyidentified with the corporations who occupied within his bailiwick anyimportant relation to the state. 

This alliance between the political machines and the bigcorporations--particularly those who operate railroads or controlmunicipal franchises--was an alliance between two independent andcoördinate powers in the kingdom of American practical affairs. Thepolitical "Boss" did not create the industrial leader for his own goodpurposes. Neither did the industrial leader create the machine and its"Boss, " although he has done much to confirm the latter's influence. Each of them saw an opportunity to turn to his own account theindividualistic "freedom" of American politics and industry. Each ofthem was enabled by the character of our political traditions to obtainan amount of power which the originators of those political ideas neveranticipated, and which, if not illegal, was entirely outside the law. It so happened that the kind of power which each obtained was veryuseful to the other. A corporation which derived its profits from publicfranchises, or from a business transacted in many different states, found the purchase of a local or state machine well within its means andwell according to its interests. The professional politicians who hadembarked in politics as a business and who were making what they couldout of it for themselves and their followers, could not resist thisunexpected and lucrative addition to their market. But it must beremembered that the alliance was founded on interest rather thanassociation, on mutual agreement rather than on any effectivesubordination one to another. A certain change in conditions mighteasily make their separate interests diverge, and abstract all theprofits from their traffic. If anything happened, for instance, to makeinter-state railroad corporations less dependent on the stategovernments, they would no longer need the expense of subsidizing thestate machines. There are signs at the present time that these interestsare diverging, and that such alliances will be less dangerous in thefuture than they have been in the past. But even if the alliance isbroken, the peculiar unofficial organization of American industry andpolitics will persist, and will constitute, both in its consequences andits significance, two of our most important national problems. 

It would be as grave a mistake, however, absolutely to condemn thisprocess of political organization as it would absolutely to condemn theprocess of industrial organization. The huge corporation and thepolitical machine were both created to satisfy a real and a permanentneed--the needs of specialized leadership and associated action in thesetwo primary American activities. That in both of these cases the actualmethod of organization has threatened vital public interests, and eventhe very future of democracy has been due chiefly to the disregard bythe official American political system of the necessity and theconsequences of specialized leadership and associated action. Thepolitical system was based on the assumption that the individualism itencouraged could be persuaded merely by the power of words to respectthe public interest, that public officials could be deprived ofindependence and authority for the real benefit of the "plain people, "and that the "plain people" would ask nothing from the government buttheir legal rights. These assumptions were all erroneous; and whenassociated action and specialized leadership became necessary in localAmerican politics, the leaders and their machine took advantage of thedefective official system to build up an unofficial system, bettersuited to actual popular needs. The "people" wanted the government to dosomething for them, and the politicians made their living and servedtheir country by satisfying the want. To be sure, the "people" theybenefited were a small minority of the whole population whose interestswere far from being the public interest; but it was none the lessnatural that the people, whoever they were, should want the governmentto do more for them than to guarantee certain legal rights, and it wasinevitable that they should select leaders who could satisfy theirpositive, if selfish, needs. 

The consequence has been, however, a separation of actual politicalpower from official political responsibility. The public officers arestill technically responsible for the good government of the states, even if, as individuals, they have not been granted the necessaryauthority effectively to perform their task. But their actual power iseven smaller than their official authority. They are almost completelycontrolled by the machine which secures their election or appointment. The leader or leaders of that machine are the rulers of the community, even though they occupy no offices and cannot be held in any waypublicly responsible. Here, again, as in the case of themulti-millionaire, we have an example of a dangerous inequality in thedistribution of power, and one which tends to maintain and perpetuateitself. The professional politician is frequently beaten and is beingvigorously fought; but he himself understands how necessary he is underthe existing local political organization, and how difficult it will beto dislodge him. Beaten though he be again and again, he constantlyrecovers his influence, because he is performing a necessary politicaltask and because he is genuinely representative of the needs of hisfollowers. Organizations such as Tammany in New York City are founded ona deeply rooted political tradition, a group of popular ideas, prejudices, and interests, and a species of genuine democraticassociation which are a guarantee of a long and tenacious life. Theywill survive much of the reforming machinery which is being created fortheir extirpation. 

IV

THE LABOR UNION AND THE DEMOCRATIC TRADITION

One other decisive instance of this specialized organization of Americanactivity remains to be considered--that of the labor unions. The powerwhich the unions have obtained in certain industrial centers and thetightness of their organization would have seemed anomalous to the goodJacksonian Democrat. From his point of view the whole American democracywas a kind of labor union whose political constitution provided for asubstantially equal division of the products of labor; and if the UnitedStates had remained as much of an agricultural community as it was in1830, the Jacksonian system would have preserved a much higher degree ofserviceability. 

Except in the case of certain local Granger and Populist movements, theAmerican farmers have never felt the necessity of organization toadvance either their economic or their political interests. But when themechanic or the day-laborer gathered into the cities, he soon discoveredthat life in a democratic state by no means deprived him of specialclass interests. No doubt he was at worst paid better than his Europeananalogues, because the demand for labor in a new country was continuallyoutrunning the supply; but on occasions he was, like his employer, threatened with merciless competition. The large and continuous streamof foreign immigrants, whose standards of living were in the beginninglower than those which prevailed in this country, were, particularly inhard times, a constant menace not merely to his advancement, but to thestability of his economic situation; and he began to organize partly forthe purpose of protecting himself against such competition. During thepast thirty years the work of organization has made enormous strides;and it has been much accelerated by the increasing industrial power ofhuge corporations. The mechanic and the laborer have come to believethat they must meet organization with organization, and discipline withdiscipline. Their object in forming trade associations has beenmilitant. Their purpose has been to conquer a larger share of theeconomic product by aggressive associated action. 

They have been very successful in accomplishing their object. In spiteof the flood of alien immigration the American laborer has been able toearn an almost constantly increasing wage, and he devoutly thinks thathis unions have been the chief agency of his stronger economic position. He believes in unionism, consequently, as he believes in nothing else. He is, indeed, far more aggressively preoccupied with his class, ascontrasted with his individual interests, than are his employers. He hasno respect for the traditional American individualism as applied to hisown social and economic standing. Whenever he has had the power, he hassuppressed competition as ruthlessly as have his employers. Every kindof contumelious reproach is heaped on the heads of the working men whodare to replace him when he strikes; and he does not scruple to useunder such conditions weapons more convincing than the most opprobriousepithets. His own personality is merged in that of the union. Noindividual has any rights as opposed to the interests of the union. Hefully believes, of course, in competition among employers, just as theemployers are extremely enthusiastic over the individual liberty of theworking man. But in his own trade he has no use for individuality of anykind. The union is to be composed of so many equal units who will workthe same number of hours for the some wages, and no one of whom is toreceive more pay even for more work. The unionist, that is, has come todepend upon his union for that material prosperity and advancementwhich, according to the American tradition, was to be the inevitableresult of American political ideas and institutions. His attachment tohis union has come to be the most important attachment of his life--moreimportant in most cases than his attachment to the American ideal and tothe national interest. 

Some of the labor unions, like some of the corporations, have takenadvantage of the infirmities of local and state governments to becomearrogant and lawless. On the occasion of a great strike the strikers areoften just as disorderly as they are permitted to be by the localpolice. When the police prevent them from resisting the employment ofstrike-breakers by force, they apparently believe that the politicalsystem of the country has been pressed into the service of theirenemies; and they begin to wonder whether it will not be necessary forthem to control such an inimical political organization. The averageunion laborer, even though he might hesitate himself to assault a"scab, " warmly sympathizes with such assaults, and believes that in theexisting state of industrial warfare they are morally justifiable. Inthese and in other respects he places his allegiance to his union and tohis class above his allegiance to his state and to his country. Hebecomes in the interests of his organization a bad citizen, and at timesan inhuman animal, who is ready to maim or even to kill another man andfor the supposed benefit of himself and his fellows. 

The most serious danger to the American democratic future which mayissue from aggressive and unscrupulous unionism consists in the state ofmind of which mob-violence is only one expression. The militantunionists are beginning to talk and believe as if they were at war withthe existing social and political order--as if the American politicalsystem was as inimical to their interests as would be that of anyEuropean monarchy or aristocracy. The idea is being systematicallypropagated that the American government is one which favors themillionaire rather than the wage-earner; and the facts which eithersuperficially or really support this view are sufficiently numerous towin for it an apparently increasing number of adherents. The unionlaborer is tending to become suspicious, not merely of his employer, butof the constitution of American society. His morals are becoming thoseof men engaged in a struggle for life. The manifestations of this stateof mind in notion are not very numerous, although on many occasions theyhave worn a sufficiently sinister aspect. But they are numerous enoughto demand serious attention, for the literature popular among theunionists is a literature, not merely of discontent, but sometimes ofrevolt. 

Whether this aggressive unionism will ever become popular enough toendanger the foundations of the American political and social order, Ishall not pretend to predict. The practical dangers resulting from it atany one time are largely neutralized by the mere size of the country andits extremely complicated social and industrial economy. The menace itcontains to the nation as a whole can hardly become very critical aslong as so large a proportion of the American voters are land-owningfarmers. But while the general national well-being seems sufficientlyprotected for the present against the aggressive assertion of the classinterests of the unionists, the legal public interest of particularstates and cities cannot be considered as anywhere near so secure; andin any event the existence of aggressive discontent on that part of theunionists must constitute a serious problem for the American legislatorand statesman. Is there any ground for such aggressive discontent? Howhas it come to pass that the American political system, which wasdesigned to guarantee the welfare and prosperity of the people, is thesubject of such violent popular suspicion? Can these suspicions beallayed merely by curbing the somewhat excessive opportunities of therich man and by the diminution of his influence upon the government? Ordoes the discontent indicate the existence of more radical economicevils or the necessity of more radical economic reforms?

However the foregoing questions ought to be answered, there can be nodoubt as to the nature of the answers, proposed by the unioniststhemselves. The unionist leaders frequently offer verbal homage to thegreat American principle of equal rights, but what they really demand isthe abandonment of that principle. What they want is an economic andpolitical order which will discriminate in favor of union labor andagainst non-union labor; and they want it on the ground that the unionshave proved to be the most effective agency on behalf of economic andsocial amelioration of the wage-earner. The unions, that is, are helpingmost effectively to accomplish the task, traditionally attributed to theAmerican democratic political system--the task of raising the generalstandard of living; and the unionists claim that they deserve on thisground recognition by the state and active encouragement. Obviously, however, such encouragement could not go very far without violating boththe Federal and many state constitutions--the result being that there isa profound antagonism between our existing political system and what theunionists consider to be a perfectly fair demand. Like all goodAmericans, while verbally asking for nothing but equal rights, theyinterpret the phrase so that equal rights become equivalent to specialrights. 

Of all the hard blows which the course of American political andeconomic development has dealt the traditional system of political ideasand institutions, perhaps the hardest is this demand for discriminationon behalf of union labor. It means that the more intelligent andprogressive American workingmen are coming to believe that the Americanpolitical and economic organization does not sufficiently secure thematerial improvement of the wage-earner. This conviction may be to alarge extent erroneous. Certain it is that the wages of unorganized farmlaborers have been increasing as rapidly during the past thirty years ashave the wages of the organized mechanics. But whether erroneous or not, it is widespread and deep-rooted; and whatever danger it possesses isderived from the fact that it affords to a substantially revolutionarypurpose a large and increasing popular following. The other instances oforganization for special purposes which have been remarked, havesuperficially, at least, been making for conservatism. The millionaireand the professional politician want above all things to be let alone, and to be allowed to enjoy the benefit of their conquests. But the labororganizations cannot exercise the power necessary in their opinion totheir interests without certain radical changes in the political andeconomic order; and inasmuch as their power is likely to increase ratherthan diminish, the American people are confronted with the prospect ofpersistent, unscrupulous, and increasing agitation on behalf of aneconomic and political reorganization in favor of one class of citizens. 

The large corporations and the unions occupy in certain respects asimilar relation to the American political system. Their advocates bothbelieve in associated action for themselves and in competition for theiradversaries. They both demand governmental protection and recognition, but resent the notion of efficient governmental regulation. They haveboth reached their existing power, partly because of the weakness of thestate governments, to which they are legally subject, and they both areopposed to any interference by the Federal government--exceptexclusively on their own behalf. Yet they both have become so verypowerful that they are frequently too strong for the state governments, and in different ways they both traffic for their own benefit with thepoliticians, who so often control those governments. Here, of course, the parallelism ends and the divergence begins. The corporations haveapparently the best of the situation because existing institutions aremore favorable to the interests of the corporations than to theinterests of the unionists; but on the other hand, the unions have theimmense advantage of a great and increasing numerical strength. They arebeginning to use the suffrage to promote a class interest, though howfar they will travel on this perilous path remains doubtful. In anyevent, it is obvious that the development in this country of two suchpowerful and unscrupulous and well-organized special interests hascreated a condition which the founders of the Republic neveranticipated, and which demands as a counterpoise a more effective bodyof national opinion, and a more powerful organization of the nationalinterest. 

V

GOVERNMENT BY LAWYERS

The corporation, the politician, and the union laborer are allillustrations of the organization of men representing fundamentalinterests for special purposes. The specialization of American societyhas not, however, stopped with its specialized organization. A similarprocess has been taking place in the different professions, arts, andtrades; and of these much the most important is the gradualtransformation of the function of the lawyer in the American politicalsystem. He no longer either performs the same office or occupies thesame place in the public mind as he did before the Civil War; and thenature and meaning of this change cannot be understood without somepreliminary consideration of the important part which American lawyershave played in American political history. 

The importance of that part is both considerable and peculiar--as is thedebt of gratitude which the American people owe to American lawyers. They founded the Republic, and they have always governed it. Some fewgenerals, and even one colonel, have been elected to the Presidency ofthe United States; and occasionally business men of one kind or anotherhave prevailed in local politics; but really important political actionin our country has almost always been taken under the influence oflawyers. On the whole, American laws have been made by lawyers; theyhave been executed by lawyers; and, of course, they have been expoundedby lawyers. Their predominance has been practically complete; and so faras I know, it has been unprecedented. No other great people, either inclassic, mediæval, or modern times, has ever allowed such a professionalmonopoly of governmental functions. Certain religious bodies havesubmitted for a while to the dominion of ecclesiastical lawyers; but thelawyer has rarely been allowed to interfere either in the executive orthe legislative branches of the government. The lawyer phrased the lawsand he expounded them for the benefit of litigants. The constructionwhich he has placed upon bodies of customary law, particularly inEngland, has sometimes been equivalent to the most permanent andfruitful legislation. But the people responsible for the government ofEuropean countries have rarely been trained lawyers, whereas Americanstatesmen, untrained in the law, are palpable exceptions. This dominionof lawyers is so defiant of precedent that it must be due to certainnovel and peremptory American conditions. 

The American would claim, of course, that the unprecedented prominenceof the lawyer in American politics is to be explained on the ground thatthe American government is a government by law. The lawyer isnecessarily of subordinate importance in any political system tendingtowards absolutism. He is even of subordinate importance in a liberalsystem such as that of Great Britain, where Crown and Parliament, actingtogether, have the power to enact any desired legislation. The FederalConstitution, on the other hand, by establishing the Supreme Court asthe interpreter of the Fundamental Law, and as a separate andindependent department of the government, really made the Americanlawyer responsible for the future of the country. In so far as theConstitution continues to prevail, the Supreme Court becomes the finalarbiter of the destinies of the United States. Whenever its action canbe legally invoked, it can, if necessary, declare the will of either orboth the President and Congress of no effect; and inasmuch as almostevery important question of public policy raises corresponding questionsof Constitutional interpretation, its possible or actual influencedominates American political discussion. Thus the lawyer, whenconsecrated as Justice of the Supreme Court, has become the High Priestof our political faith. He sits in the sanctuary and guards the sacredrights which have been enshrined in the ark of the Constitution. 

The importance of lawyers as legislators and executives in the actualwork of American government has been an indirect consequence of thepeculiar function of the Supreme Court in the American political system. The state constitutions confer a corresponding function on the higheststate courts, although they make no similar provision for theindependence of the state judiciary. The whole business of Americangovernment is so entangled in a network of legal conditions that atraining in the law is the beet education which an American public mancan receive. The first question asked of any important legislativeproject, whether state or Federal, concerns its constitutionality; andthe question of its wisdom is necessarily subordinate to thesefundamental legal considerations. The statesman, who is not a lawyer, suffers under many disadvantages--not the least of which is thesuspicion wherewith he is regarded by his legal fellow-statesmen. Whenthey talk about a government by law, they really mean a government bylawyers; and they are by way of believing that government by anybody butlawyers is really unsafe. 

The Constitution bestowed upon the American lawyer a constructivepolitical function; and this function has been confirmed and evenenlarged by American political custom and practice. The work of finallyinterpreting the Federal Constitution has rarely been either conceivedor executed in a merely negative spirit. The construction, whichsuccessive generations of Supreme Court Justices have placed upon theinstrument, has tended to enlarge its scope, and make it a legalgarment, which was being better cut to fit the American political andeconomic organism. In its original form, and to a certain extent in itspresent form, the Constitution was in many respects an ambiguousdocument which might have been interpreted along several differentlines; and the Supreme Court in its official expositions has beeninfluenced by other than strictly legal and verbal reasons--byconsiderations of public welfare or by general political ideas. But suchconstructive interpretations have been most cautiously and discreetlyadmitted. In proclaiming them, the Supreme Court has usually representeda substantial consensus of the better legal opinion of the time; andconstructions of this kind are accepted and confirmed only when anyparticular decision is the expression of some permanent advance orachievement in political thinking by the American lawyer. It becomesconsequently of the utmost importance that American lawyers shouldreally represent the current of national political opinion. The SupremeCourt has been, on the whole, one of the great successes of the Americanpolitical system, because the lawyers, whom it represented, werethemselves representative of the ideas and interests of the bulk oftheir fellow-countrymen; and if for any reason they become lessrepresentative, a dangerous division would be created between the bodyof American public opinion and its official and final legal expositors. If the lawyers have any reason to misinterpret a serious politicalproblem, the difficulty of dealing therewith is much increased, becausein addition to the ordinary risks of political therapeutics there willbe added that of a false diagnosis by the family doctor. The adequacy ofthe lawyers' training, the disinterestedness of their political motives, the fairness of their mental outlook, and the closeness of their contactwith the national public opinion--all become matters of grave publicconcern. 

It can be fairly asserted that the qualifications of the American lawyerfor his traditional task as the official interpreter and guide ofAmerican constitutional democracy have been considerably impaired. Whatever his qualifications have been for the task (and they have, perhaps, been over-estimated) they are no longer as substantial as theywere. Not only has the average lawyer become a less representativecitizen, but a strictly legal training has become a less desirablepreparation for the candid consideration of contemporary politicalproblems. 

Since 1870 the lawyer has been traveling in the same path as thebusiness man and the politician. He has tended to become a professionalspecialist, and to give all his time to his specialty. The greatest andmost successful American lawyers no longer become legislators andstatesmen as they did in the time of Daniel Webster. They no longerobtain the experience of men and affairs which an active political lifebrings with it. Their professional practice, whenever they aresuccessful, is so remunerative and so exacting that they cannot affordeither the time or the money which a political career demands. The mosteminent American lawyers usually remain lawyers all their lives; and ifthey abandon private practice at all, it is generally for the purpose oftaking a seat on the Bench. Like nearly all other Americans they havefound rigid specialization a condition of success. 

A considerable proportion of our legislators and executives continue tobe lawyers, but the difference is that now they are more likely to beless successful lawyers. Knowledge of the law and a legal habit of mindstill have a great practical value in political work; and theprofessional politicians, who are themselves rarely men of legaltraining, need the services of lawyers whose legal methods are notattenuated by scruples. Lawyers of this class occupy the same relationto the local political "Bosses" as the European lawyer used to occupy inthe court of the absolute monarch. He phrases the legislation which theruler decides to be of private or public benefit; and he acts frequentlyas his employer's official mouthpiece and special pleader. 

No doubt many excellent and even eminent lawyers continue to play animportant and an honorable part in American politics. Mr. Elihu Root isa conspicuous example of a lawyer, who has sacrificed a most lucrativeprivate practice for the purpose of giving his country the benefit ofhis great abilities. Mr. Taft was, of course, a lawyer before he was anadministrator, though he had made no professional success correspondingto that of Mr. Root. Mr. Hughes, also, was a successful lawyer. Thereform movement has brought into prominence many public-spiritedlawyers, who, either as attorney-generals or as district attorneys, havesought vigorously to enforce the law and punish its violators. Thelawyers, like every class of business and professional men, have feltthe influence of the reforming ideas, which have become so conspicuousin American practical politics, and they have performed admirable andessential work on behalf of reform. 

But it is equally true that the most prominent and thorough-goingreformers, such as Roosevelt, Bryan, and Hearst, are not lawyers byprofession, and that the majority of prominent American lawyers are notreformers. The tendency of the legally trained mind is inevitably andextremely conservative. So far as reform consists in the enforcement ofthe law, it is, of course, supported by the majority of successfullawyers; but so far as reform has come to mean a tendency to politicalor economic reorganization, it has to face the opposition of the bulk ofAmerican legal opinion. The existing political order has been created bylawyers; and they naturally believe somewhat obsequiously in a systemfor which they are responsible, and from which they benefit. Thisgovernment by law, of which they boast, is not only a government bylawyers, but is a government in the interest of litigation. It makeslegal advice more constantly essential to the corporation and theindividual than any European political system. The lawyer, just as muchas the millionaire and the politician, has reaped a bountiful harvestfrom the inefficiency and irresponsibility of American stategovernments, and from the worship of individual rights. 

They have corporations in Europe, but they have nothing corresponding tothe American corporation lawyer. The ablest American lawyers have beenretained by the special interests. In some cases they have been retainedto perform tasks which must have been repugnant to honest men; but thatis not the most serious aspect of the situation. The retainer which theAmerican legal profession has accepted from the corporations inevitablyincreases its natural tendency to a blind conservatism; and itsinfluence has been used not for the purpose of extricating the largecorporations from their dubious and dangerous legal situation, but forthe purpose of keeping them entangled in its meshes. At a time when thepublic interest needs a candid reconsideration of the basis and thepurpose of the American legal system, they have either opposed orcontributed little to the essential work, and in adopting this coursethey have betrayed the interests of their more profitable clients--thelarge corporations themselves--whose one chance of perpetuation dependsupon political and legal reconstruction. 

The conservative believer in the existing American political systemwill doubtless reply that the lawyer, in so far as he opposes radicalreform or reorganization, is merely remaining true to his function asthe High Priest of American constitutional democracy. And no doubt it isbegging the question at the present stage of this discussion, to assertthat American lawyers as such are not so well qualified as they were toguide American political thought and action. But it can at least bemaintained that, assuming some radical reorganization to be necessary, the existing prejudices, interests, and mental outlook of the Americanlawyer disqualify him for the task. The legal profession is risking itstraditional position as the mouthpiece of the American political creedand faith upon the adequacy of the existing political system. If thereis any thorough-going reorganization needed, it will be brought about inspite of the opposition of the legal profession. They occupy in relationto the modern economic and political problem a position similar to thatof the Constitutional Unionists previous to the Civil War. Thoseestimable gentlemen believed devoutly that the Constitution, whichcreated the problem of slavery and provoked the anti-slavery agitation, was adequate to its solution. In the same spirit learned lawyers nowaffirm that the existing problems can easily be solved, if only Americanpublic opinion remain faithful to the Constitution. But it may be thatthe Constitution, as well as the system of local political governmentbuilt up around the Federal Constitution, is itself partly responsiblefor some of the existing abuses, evils, and problems; and if so, theAmerican lawyer may be useful, as he was before the Civil War, inevading our difficulties; but he will not be very useful in settlingthem. He may try to settle them by decisions of the Supreme Court; butsuch decisions, --assuming, of course, that the problem is as inexorableas was that of the legal existence of slavery in a democraticnation, --such decisions would have precisely the same effect on publicopinion as did the Dred Scott decision. They would merely excite acrisis, which they were intended to allay, and strengthen the hands ofthe more radical critics of the existing political system. 

VI

AMERICAN DEMOCRACY AND THE SOCIAL PROBLEM

The changes which have been taking place in industrial and political andsocial conditions have all tended to impair the consistency of feelingcharacteristic of the first phase of American national democracy. Americans are divided from one another much more than they were duringthe Middle Period by differences of interest, of intellectual outlook, of moral and technical standards, and of manner of life. Graveinequalities of power and deep-lying differences of purpose havedeveloped in relation of the several primary American activities. Themillionaire, the "Boss, " the union laborer, and the lawyer, have alltaken advantage of the loose American political organization to promotesomewhat unscrupulously their own interests, and to obtain specialsources of power and profit at the expense of a wholesome nationalbalance. But the foregoing examples of specialized organization andpurposes do not stand alone. They are the most conspicuous and the mosttroublesome because of the power wielded by those particular classes, and because they can claim for their purposes the support of certainaspects of the American national tradition. Yet the same process hasbeen taking place in all the other departments of American social andintellectual life. Technical experts of all kinds--engineers, men ofletters, and artists--have all of them been asserting much morevigorously their own special interests and purposes. In so assertingthemselves they cannot claim the support of the American nationaldemocratic convention. On the contrary, the proclamation of hightechnical standards and of insistent individual purposes is equivalentto a revolt from the traditions of the Middle Period, which were all infavor of cheap work and the average worker. But different as is thesituation of these technical experts, the fundamental meaning of theirself-assertion is analogous to that of the millionaire and the "Boss. "The vast incoherent mass of the American people is falling into definitesocial groups, which restrict and define the mental outlook and socialexperience of their members. The all-round man of the innocent MiddlePeriod has become the exception. The earlier homogeneity of Americansociety has been impaired, and no authoritative and edifying, butconscious, social ideal has as yet taken its place. 

The specialized organization of American industry, politics, and labor, and the increasingly severe special discipline imposed upon theindividual, are not to be considered as evils. On the contrary, they areindications of greater practical efficiency, and they contain a promiseof individual moral and intellectual emancipation. But they have theirserious and perilous aspects, because no sufficient provision has beenmade for them in the national democratic tradition. What it means isthat the American nation is being confronted by a problem which theearlier national democracy expected to avoid--the social problem. By thesocial problem is usually meant the problem of poverty; but graveinequalities of wealth are merely the most dangerous and distressingexpression of fundamental differences among the members of a society ofinterest and of intellectual and moral standards. In its deepest aspect, consequently, the social problem is the problem of preventing suchdivisions from dissolving the society into which they enter--of keepingsuch a highly differentiated society fundamentally sound and whole. 

In this country the solution of the social problem demands thesubstitution of a conscious social ideal for the earlier instinctivehomogeneity of the American nation. That homogeneity has disappearednever to return. We should not want it to return, because it wasdependent upon too many sacrifices of individual purpose andachievement. But a democracy cannot dispense with the solidarity whichit imparted to American life, and in one way or another such solidaritymust be restored. There is only one way in which it can be restored, andthat is by means of a democratic social ideal, which shall giveconsistency to American social life, without entailing any essentialsacrifice of desirable individual and class distinctions. I have usedthe word "restoration" to describe this binding and healing process; butthe consistency which would result from the loyal realization of acomprehensive coherent democratic social ideal would differ radicallyfrom the earlier American homogeneity of feeling. The solidarity whichit would impart to American society would have its basis in feeling andits results in good fellowship; but it must always remain a promise andconstructive ideal rather than a finished performance. The socialproblem must, as long as societies continue to endure, be solved afreshby almost every generation; and the one chance of progress depends bothupon an invincible loyalty to a constructive social ideal and upon acurrent understanding by the new generation of the actual experience ofits predecessors. 

CHAPTER VI

I

REFORM AND THE REFORMERS

Sensible and patriotic Americans have not, of course, tamely and ignoblysubmitted to the obvious evils of their political and economiccondition. There was, indeed, a season when the average good Americanrefused to take these evils seriously. He was possessed by the idea thatAmerican life was a stream, which purified itself in the running, andthat reformers and critics were merely men who prevented the stream fromrunning free. He looked upon the first spasmodic and ineffectiveprotests with something like contempt. Reformers he appraised asbusybodies, who were protesting against the conditions of success inbusiness and politics. He nicknamed them "mugwumps" and continued tovote the regular tickets of his party. There succeeded to this phase ofcontemptuous dislike a few years, in which he was somewhat bewildered bythe increasing evidences of corruption in American politics andlawlessness in American business methods, and during which heoccasionally supported some favorite among the several reformingmovements. Then a habit of criticism and reform increased with the sensethat the evils were both more flagrant and more stubborn than heimagined, until at the present time average well-intentioned Americansare likely to be reformers of one kind or another, while the moreintelligent and disinterested of them are pretty sure to vote a "reform"ticket. To stand for a programme of reform has become one of therecognized roads to popularity. The political leaders with the largestpersonal followings are some kind of reformers. They sit in presidentialchairs; they occupy executive mansions; they extort legislation fromunwilling politicians; they regulate and abuse the erring corporations;they are coming to control the press; and they are the most aggressiveforce in American public opinion. The supporters and beneficiaries ofexisting abuses still control much of the official and practically allthe unofficial political and business machinery; but they are lessdomineering and self-confident than they were. The reformers have bothscared and bewildered them. They begin to realize that reform has cometo stay, and perhaps even to conquer, while reform itself is beginningto pay the penalty of success by being threatened with deterioration. Ithas had not only its hero in Theodore Roosevelt, but its specter inWilliam R. Hearst. 

In studying the course of the reforming movement during the lasttwenty-five years, it appears that, while reform has had a history, thishistory is only beginning. Since 1880, or even 1895 or 1900, it has beentransformed in many significant ways. In the beginning it was spasmodicin its outbursts, innocent in its purposes, and narrow in its outlook. It sprang up almost spontaneously in a number of different places and ina number of different detached movements; and its adherents did not lookmuch beyond a victory at a particular election, or the passage of a fewremedial laws. Gradually, however, it increased in definiteness, persistence, and comprehensiveness of purpose. The reformers found theneed of permanent organization, of constant work, and even withinlimits, of a positive programme. Their success and their influence uponpublic opinion increased just in proportion as they began to take theirjob seriously. Indeed, they have become extremely self-conscious inrelation to their present standing and their future responsibilities. They are beginning to predict the most abundant results from the"uplift" movement, of which they are the leaders. They confidentlyanticipate that they are destined to make a much more salient andsignificant contribution to the history of their country than has beenmade by any group of political leaders since the Civil War. 

It is in a sense a misnomer to write of "Reform" as a single thing. Reform is, as a matter of fact, all sorts of things. The name has beenapplied to a number of separate political agitations, which have beenstarted by different people at different times in different parts of thecountry, and these separate movements have secured very different kindsof support, and have run very different courses. Tariff reform, forinstance, was an early and popular agitation whose peculiarity hasconsisted in securing the support of one of the two national parties, but which in spite of that support has so far made little substantialprogress. Civil service reform, on the other hand, was the firstagitation looking in the direction of political purification. The earlyreformers believed that the eradication of the spoils system would deala deadly blow at political corruption and professional politics. Butalthough they have been fairly successful in establishing the "merit"system in the various public offices, the results of the reform have notequaled the promises of its advocates. While it is still an importantpart of the programme of reform from the point of view of manyreformers, it has recently been over-shadowed by other issues. It doesnot provoke either as much interest as it did or as much opposition. Municipal reform has, of course, almost as many centers of agitation asthere are centers of corruption--that is, large municipalities in theUnited States. It began as a series of local non-partisan movements forthe enforcement of the laws, the dispossession of the "rascals, " and thebusinesslike, efficient administration of municipal affairs; but thereformers discovered in many cases that municipal corruption could notbe eradicated without the reform of state politics, and without somedrastic purging of the local public service corporations. They haveconsequently in many cases enlarged the area of their agitation; but inso doing they have become divided among themselves, and their agitationhas usually lost its non-partisan character. Finally the agitationagainst the trusts has developed a confused hodge-podge of harmless anddeadly, overlapping and mutually exclusive, remedies, which are thecause of endless disagreements. Of course they are all for the Peopleand against the Octopus, but beyond this precise and comprehensivestatement of the issue, the reformers have endlessly different viewsabout the nature of the disease and the severity of the necessaryremedy. 

If reform is an ambiguous and many-headed thing, the leading reformersare as far as possible from being a body of men capable of mutualcoöperation. They differ almost as widely among themselves as they dofrom the beneficiaries or supporters of the existing abuses. William R. Hearst, William Travers Jerome, Seth Low, and George B. McClellan areall in their different ways reformers; but they would not constituteprecisely a happy family. Indeed, Mr. Hearst, who in his own opinion isthe only immaculate reformer, is, in the eyes of his fellow-reformers, as dangerous a public enemy as the most corrupt politician or the mostunscrupulous millionaire. Any reformer who, like Mr. William JenningsBryan, proclaims views which are in some respects more than usuallyradical, comes in for heartier denunciation from his brothers in reformthan he does from the conservatives. Each of our leading reformers ismore or less a man on horseback, who is seeking to popularize aparticular brand of reform, and who is inclined to doubt whether theother brands are available for public consumption without rigidinspection. Consequently, the party of reform is broken up into a numberof insurgent personalities. "The typical reformer, " says the late AlfredHodder in a book written in praise of Mr. William Travers Jerome, "Thetypical reformer is a 'star, ' and a typical reform administration isusually a company of stars, " and a most amusing piece of specialpleading is the reasoning whereby the same author seeks to prove thatMr. Jerome himself is or was not a "star" performer. The preferencewhich individual performers have shown for leading parts is in itselffar from being a bad thing, but the lack of "team play" has none theless diminished the efficiency of reform as a practical and prosperouspolitical agitation. 

These disagreements are the more significant, because the different"star" reformers are sufficiently united upon their statement offundamental principles. They all of them agree to conceive of reform asat bottom a moral protest and awakening, which seeks to enforce theviolated laws and to restore the American political and economic systemto its pristine purity and vigor. From their point of view certainabuses have become unwholesomely conspicuous, because the averageAmerican citizen has been a little lethargic, and allowed a few of hismore energetic and unscrupulous fellow-citizens to exploit for selfishpurposes the opportunities of American business and politics. Thefunction of reform, consequently, is to deprive these parasites of theirpeculiar opportunities. Few reformers anticipate now that this task willbe easily or quickly accomplished. They are coming to realize that theabuses are firmly intrenched, and a prolonged siege as well as constantassaults are necessary for final success. Some reformers are eventending to the opinion that a tradition of reform and succession ofreformers will be demanded for the vigilant protection of the Americanpolitical and economic system against abuse. But the point is theagreement among practical reformers that reform means at bottom no morethan moral and political purification. It may, indeed, bring with it thenecessity of a certain amount of reorganization; but such reorganizationwill aim merely at the improvement of the existing political andeconomic machinery. Present and future reformers must cleanse, oil, andpatch a piece of economic and political machinery, which in allessentials is adequate to its purpose. The millionaire and the trusthave appropriated too many of the economic opportunities formerlyenjoyed by the people. The corrupt politician has usurped too much ofthe power which should be exercised by the people. Reform must restoreto the people the opportunities and power of which they have beendeprived. 

An agitation of this kind, deriving as it does its principles andpurposes from the very source of American democracy, would seem todeserve the support of all good Americans: and such support was in thebeginning expected. Reformers have always tended to believe that theiragitation ought to be and essentially was non-partisan. They consideredit inconceivable either that patriotic American citizens should hesitateabout restoring the purity and vigor of American institutions, or suchan object should not appeal to every disinterested man, irrespective ofparty. It was a fight between the law and its violators, between theFaithful and the Heretic, between the Good and the Wicked. In such afight there was, of course, only one aide to take. It was not to bedoubted that the honest men, who constitute, of course, an enormousmajority of the "plain people, " would rally to the banners of reform. The rascals would be turned out; the people would regain their economicopportunities and political rights; and the American democracy wouldpursue undefiled its triumphant career of legalized prosperity. 

These hopes have never been realized. Reform has rarely beennon-partisan--except in the minds of its more innocent advocates. Nowand then an agitation for municipal reform in a particular city willsuffer a spasm of non-partisanship; but the reformers soon develop suchlively differences among themselves, that they separate into specialgroups or else resume their regular party ties. Their common conceptionof reform as fundamentally a moral awakening, which seeks to restore theAmerican, political and economic system to its early purity and vigor, does not help them to unity of action or to unity in the framing of aremedial policy. Different reformers really mean something verydifferent by the traditional system, from which American practice hasdeparted and which they propose to restore. Some of them mean thereby acondition of spiritual excellence, which will be restored by a sort ofpolitico-moral revivalism and which will somehow make the results ofdivine and popular election coincide. Others mean nothing more than therigid enforcement of existing laws. Still others mean a new legalexpression of the traditional democratic principle, framed to meet thenew political and social conditions; but the reformers who agree uponthis last conception of reform disagree radically as to what the newlegal expression should be. The traditional system, which they seek torestore, assumes almost as many shapes as there are leading reformers;and as the reforming movement develops, the disagreements among thereformers become more instead of less definite and acute. 

The inability of the reformers to coöperate in action or to agree as tothe application of their principles is in part merely a natural resultof their essential work. Reformers are primarily protestants; andprotestants are naturally insubordinate. They have been protestingagainst the established order in American business and politics. Theirprotest implies a certain degree of moral and intellectual independence, which makes them dislike to surrender or subordinate their own personalopinions and manner of action. Such independence is a new and refreshingthing, which has suddenly made American politics much more interestingand significant than it has been at any time since the Civil War. It hasa high value wholly apart from its immediate political results. It meansthat the American people are beginning a new phase of their politicalexperience, --a phase in which there will be room for a much freer playof individual ability and character. Inevitably the sudden realizationby certain exceptional politicians that they have a right to beindividuals, and that they can take a strong line of their own inpolitics without being disqualified for practical political associationwith their fellow-countrymen--such a new light could hardly breakwithout tempting the performers to over-play the part. The fact thatthey have over-played their parts, and have wasted time and energy overmeaningless and unnecessary disagreements is not in itself a matter ofmuch importance. The great majority of them are disinterested andpatriotic men, who will not allow in the long run either personalambition or political crotchets to prevent them from coöperating for thegood of the cause. 

Unfortunately, however, neither public spirit nor patriotism will besufficient to bring them effectively together--any more than genuineexcellence of intention and real public spirit enabled patrioticAmericans to coöperate upon a remedial policy during the yearsimmediately preceding the Civil War. The plain fact is that thetraditional American political system, which so many good reformers wishto restore by some sort of reforming revivalism, is just as muchresponsible for the existing political and economic abuses as theConstitution was responsible for the evil of slavery. As long, consequently, as reform is considered to be a species of higherconservatism, the existing abuses can no more be frankly faced and fullyunderstood than the Whig leaders were able to face and understand thefull meaning and consequences of any attempt on the part of a democracyto keep house with slavery. The first condition of a betterunderstanding and a more efficient coöperation among the reformingleaders is a better understanding of the meaning of reform and thefunction of reformers. They will never be united on the basis ofallegiance to the traditional American political creed, because thatcreed itself is overflowing with inconsistencies and ambiguities, whichafford a footing for almost every extreme of radicalism andconservatism; and in case they persist in the attempt to reformpolitical and economic abuses merely by a restoration of earlierconditions and methods, they will be compromising much that is good inthe present economic and political organization without recovering thatwhich was good in the past. 

II

THE LOGIC OF REFORM

The prevailing preconception of the reformers, that the existing evilsand abuses have been due chiefly to the energy and lack of scruple withwhich business men and politicians have taken advantage of the good buteasy-going American, and that a general increase of moral energy, assisted by some minor legal changes, will restore the balance, --such aconception of the situation is less than half true. No doubt, the "plainpeople" of the United States have been morally indifferent, and haveallowed unscrupulous special interests to usurp too much power; but thatis far from being the whole story. The unscrupulous energy of the "Boss"or the "tainted" millionaire is vitally related to the moralindifference of the "plain people. " Both of them have been encouraged tobelieve by the nature of our traditional ideas and institutions that aman could be patriotic without being either public-spirited ordisinterested. The democratic state has been conceived as a piece ofpolitical machinery, which existed for the purpose of securing certainindividual rights and opportunities--the expectation being that thegreatest individual happiness would be thereby promoted, and one whichharmonized with the public interest. Consequently when the "Boss" andthe "tainted" millionaire took advantage of this situation to secure forthemselves an unusually large amount of political and economic power, they were putting into practice an idea which traditionally had beenentirely respectable, and which during the pioneer period had not workedbadly. On the other hand, when, the mass of American voters failed todetect the danger of such usurpation until it had gone altogether toofar, they, too, were not without warrant for their lethargy andcallousness. They, too, in a smaller way had considered the Americanpolitical and economic system chiefly as a system framed for theirindividual benefit, and it did not seem sportsmanlike to turn and rendtheir more successful competitors, until they were told that the"trusts" and the "Bosses" were violating the sacred principle of equalrights. Thus the abuses of which we are complaining are not weeds whichhave been allowed to spring up from neglect, and which can be eradicatedby a man with a hoe. They are cultivated plants, which, if notprecisely specified in the plan of the American political and economicgarden, have at least been encouraged by traditional methods ofcultivation. 

The fact that this dangerous usurpation of power has been accomplishedpartly by illegal methods has blinded many reformers to twoconsiderations, which have a vital relation to both the theory and thepractice of reform. Violation of the law was itself partly the result ofconflicting and unwise state legislation, and for this reason did notseem very heinous either to its perpetrators or to public opinion. Buteven if the law had not been violated, similar results would havefollowed. Under the traditional American system, with the freedompermitted to the individual, with the restriction placed on the centralauthority, and with its assumption of a substantial identity between theindividual and the public interest--under such a system unusuallyenergetic and unscrupulous men were bound to seize a kind and an amountof political and economic power which was not entirely wholesome. Theyhad a license to do so; and if they had failed to take advantagethereof, their failure would have been an indication, not ofdisinterestedness or moral impeccability, but of sheer weakness andinefficiency. 

How utterly confusing it is, consequently, to consider reform asequivalent merely to the restoration of the American democracy to aformer condition of purity and excellence! Our earlier political andeconomic condition was not at its best a fit subject for any greatamount of complacency. It cannot be restored, even if we would; and thepublic interest has nothing to gain by its restoration. The usurpationof power by "trusts" and "Bosses" is more than anything else anexpression of a desirable individual initiative and organizingability--which have been allowed to become dangerous and partly corrupt, because of the incoherence and the lack of purpose and responsibility inthe traditional American political and economic system. A "purification"might well destroy the good with the evil; and even if it weresuccessful in eradicating certain abuses, would only prepare the way forthe outbreak in another form of the tendency towards individualaggrandizement and social classification. No amount of moral energy, directed merely towards the enforcement of the laws, can possibly availto accomplish any genuine or lasting reform. It is the laws themselveswhich are partly at fault, and still more at fault is the group of ideasand traditional practices behind the laws. 

Reformers have failed for the most part to reach a correct diagnosis ofexisting political and economic abuses, because they are almost as muchthe victim of perverted, confused, and routine habits of politicalthought as is the ordinary politician. They have eschewed the traditionof partisan conformity in reference to controverted political questions, but they have not eschewed a still more insidious tradition ofconformity--the tradition that a patriotic American citizen must not inhis political thinking go beyond the formulas consecrated in the sacredAmerican writings. They adhere to the stupefying rule that the goodFathers of the Republic relieved their children from the necessity ofvigorous, independent, or consistent thinking in politicalmatters, --that it is the duty of their loyal children to repeat thesacred words and then await a miraculous consummation of individual andsocial prosperity. Accordingly, all the leading reformers begin bypiously reiterating certain phrases about equal rights for all andspecial privileges for none, and of government of the people, by thepeople, and for the people. Having in this way proved their fundamentalpolitical orthodoxy, they proceed to interpret the phrases according totheir personal, class, local, and partisan preconceptions and interests. They have never stopped to inquire whether the principle of equal rightsin its actual embodiment in American institutional and politicalpractice has not been partly responsible for some of the existingabuses, whether it is either a safe or sufficient platform for areforming movement, and whether its continued proclamation as thefundamental political principle of a democracy will help or hinder thehigher democratic consummation. Their unquestioning orthodoxy in thisrespect has made them faithless both to their own personal interest asreformers and to the cause of reform. Reform exclusively as a moralprotest and awakening is condemned to sterility. Reformers exclusivelyas moral protestants and purifiers are condemned to misdirected effort, to an illiberal puritanism, and to personal self-stultification. Reformmust necessarily mean an intellectual as well as a moral challenge; andits higher purposes will never be accomplished unless it is accompaniedby a masterful and jubilant intellectual awakening. 

All Americans, whether they are professional politicians or reformer, "predatory" millionaires or common people, political philosophers orschoolboys, accept the principle of "equal rights for all and specialprivileges for none" as the absolutely sufficient rule of an Americandemocratic political system. The platforms of both parties testify onits behalf. Corporation lawyers and their clients appear frequently tobelieve in it. Tammany offers tribute to it during every local politicalcampaign in New York. A Democratic Senator, in the intervals between hisvotes for increased duties on the products of his state, declares it tobe the summary of all political wisdom. The fact that Mr. Bryanincorporates it in most of his speeches does not prevent Mr. Hearst fromkeeping it standing in type for the purpose of showing how very Americanthe _American_ can be. The fact that Mr. Hearst has appropriated it withthe American flag as belonging peculiarly to himself has not preventedMr. Roosevelt from explaining the whole of his policy of reform as atthe bottom an attempt to restore a "Square Deal"--that is, a conditionof equal rights and non-existing privileges. More radical reformers findthe same principle equally useful for their own purposes. Mr. FredericC. Howe, in his "Hope of Democracy, " bases an elaborate scheme ofmunicipal socialism exclusively upon it. Mr. William Smythe, in his"Constructive Democracy, " finds warrant in the same principle for theimmediate purchase by the central government of the railway and "trust"franchises. Mr. Henry George, Jr. , in his "Menace of Privilege, " assertsthat the plain American citizen can never enjoy equality of rights aslong as land, mines, railroad rights of way and terminals, and the likeremain in the hands of private owners. The collectivist socialists areno less certain that the institution of private property necessarilygives some men an unjust advantage over others. There is no extreme ofradicalism or conservatism, of individualism or socialism, ofRepublicanism or Democracy, which does not rest its argument on this oneconsummate principle. 

In this respect, the good American finds himself in a situation similarto that with which he was confronted before the Civil War. At that time, also, Abolitionist and slave-holder, Republican and pioneer Democrat, each of them declared himself to be the interpreter of the truedemocratic doctrine; and no substantial progress could be made towardsthe settlement of the question, until public opinion had been instructedas to the real meaning of democracy in relation to the double-headedproblem of slavery and states' rights. It required the utmostintellectual courage and ability to emancipate the conception ofdemocracy from the illusions and confusions of thought which enabledDavis, Douglas, and Garrison all to pose as impeccable democrats; and atthe present time reformers need to devote as much ability and morecourage to the task of framing a fitting creed for a reformed andreforming American democracy. 

The political lessons of the anti-slavery and states' rights discussionsmay not be of much obvious assistance in thinking out such a creed; butthey should at least help the reformers to understand the methodswhereby the purposes of a reformed democracy can be achieved. Noprogress was made towards the solution of the slavery question until thequestion itself was admitted to be national in scope, and its solution anational responsibility. No substantial progress had been made in thedirection of reform until it began to be understood that here, also, anational responsibility existed, which demanded an exercise of thepowers of the central government. Reform is both meaningless andpowerless unless the Jeffersonian principle of non-interference isabandoned. The experience of the last generation plainly shows that theAmerican economic and social system cannot be allowed to take care ofitself, and that the automatic harmony of the individual and the publicinterest, which is the essence of the Jeffersonian democratic creed, hasproved to be an illusion. Interference with the natural course ofindividual and popular action there must be in the public interest; andsuch interference must at least be sufficient to accomplish itspurposes. The house of the American democracy is again by way of beingdivided against itself, because the national interest has not beenconsistently asserted as against special and local interests; and again, also, it can be reunited only by being partly reconstructed on betterfoundations. If reform does not and cannot mean restoration, it is boundto mean reconstruction. 

The reformers have come partly to realize that the Jeffersonian policyof drift must be abandoned. They no longer expect the American ship ofstate by virtue of its own righteous framework to sail away to a safeharbor in the Promised Land. They understand that there must be avigorous and conscious assertion of the public as opposed to private andspecial interests, and that the American people must to a greater extentthan they have in the past subordinate the latter to the former. Theybehave as if the American ship of state will hereafter require carefulsteering; and a turn or two at the wheel has given them some idea of thecourse they must set. On the other hand, even the best of them have notlearned the name of its ultimate destination, the full difficulties ofthe navigation, or the stern discipline which may eventually be imposedupon the ship's crew. They do not realize, that is, how thoroughlyJeffersonian individualism must be abandoned for the benefit of agenuinely individual and social consummation; and they do not realizehow dangerous and fallacious a chart their cherished principle of equalrights may well become. In reviving the practice of vigorous nationalaction for the achievement of a national purpose, the better reformershave, if they only knew it, been looking in the direction of a much moretrustworthy and serviceable political principle. The assumption of sucha responsibility implies the rejection of a large part of theJeffersonian creed, and a renewed attempt to establish in its place thepopularity of its Hamiltonian rival. On the other hand, it involves noless surely the transformation of Hamiltonianism into a thoroughlydemocratic political principle. None of these inferences have, however, as yet been generally drawn, and no leading reformer has sought to givereform its necessary foundation of positive, political principle. 

Only a very innocent person will expect reformers to be convinced ofsuch a novel notion of reform by mere assertion, no matter how emphatic, or by argument, no matter how conclusive. But if, as I have said, reformactually implies a criticism of traditional American ideas, and a moreresponsible and more positive conception of democracy, theseimplications will necessarily be revealed in the future history of thereforming agitation. The reformers who understand will be assisted bythe logic of events, whereas those who cannot and will not understandwill be thwarted by the logic of events. Gradually (it may beanticipated) reformers, who dare to criticise and who are not afraid toreconstruct will be sharply distinguished from reformers who believereform to be a species of higher conservatism. The latter will beforced where they belong into the ranks of the supporters andbeneficiaries of the existing system; and the party of genuine reformwill be strengthened by their departure. On the other hand, the sincereand thorough-going reformers can hardly avoid a division into twodivergent groups. One of these groups will stick faithfully to theprinciple of equal rights and to the spirit of the true Jeffersonianfaith. It will seek still further to undermine the representativecharacter of American institutions, to deprive official leadership ofany genuine responsibility, and to cultivate individualism at theexpense of individual and national integrity. The second group, on theother hand, may learn from experience that the principle of equal rightsis a dangerous weapon in the hands of factious and merely revolutionaryagitators, and even that such a principle is only a partial andpoverty-stricken statement of the purpose of a democratic polity. Thelogic of its purposes will compel it to favor the principle ofresponsible representative government, and it will seek to forgeinstitutions which will endow responsible political government withrenewed life. Above all, it may discover that the attempt to unite theHamiltonian principle of national political responsibility andefficiency with a frank democratic purpose will give a new meaning tothe Hamiltonian system of political ideas and a new power to democracy. 

III

WILLIAM J. BRYAN AS A REFORMER

One would hardly dare to assert that such a future for the reformingagitation is already prophesied by the history of reform; but thedivergence between different classes of the reformers is certainlywidening, and some such alignment can already be distinguished. HithertoI have been classing reformers together and have been occupied inpointing out the merits and failings which they possess in common. Sucha method of treatment hardly does justice to the significance of theirmutual disagreements, or to the individual value of their severalpersonalities and points of view. In many instances their disagreementsare meaningless, and are not the result of any genuine conviction; butin other instances they do represent a relevant and significant conflictof ideas. It remains to be seen, consequently, what can be made out oftheir differences of opinion and policy, and whether they point in thedirection of a gradual transformation of the agitation for reform. Forthis purpose I shall select a number of leading reformers whose work hasbeen most important, and whose individual opinions are most significant, and seek some sort of an appraisal both of the comparative value oftheir work and of the promise of their characteristic ideas. The men whonaturally suggest themselves for this purpose are William J. Bryan, William Travers Jerome, William Randolph Hearst, and Theodore Roosevelt. Each of these gentlemen throughout his public life has consistentlystood for reform of one kind or another; and together they includealmost every popular brand or phase thereof. Reform as a practicalagitation is pretty well exhausted by the points of view of these fourgentlemen. They exhibit its weakness and its strength, its illusions andits good intentions, its dangerous and its salutary tendencies. 

Be it remarked at the outset that three of these gentlemen callthemselves Democrats, while the fourth has been the official leader ofthe Republican party. The distinction to be made on this ground issufficiently obvious, but it is also extremely important. The threeDemocrats differ among themselves in certain very important respects, and these differences will receive their full share of attention. Nevertheless the fact that under ordinary circumstances they affiliatewith the Democratic party and accept its traditions gives them certaincommon characteristics, and (it must be added) subjects them to certaincommon disabilities. On the other hand the fact that Theodore Roosevelt, although a reformer from the very beginning of his public life, hasresolutely adhered to the Republican partisan organization and hasaccepted its peculiar traditions, --this fact, also, has largelydetermined the character and the limits of his work. These limits areplainly revealed in the opinions, the public policy, and the publicaction of the four typical reformers; and attempt to appraise the valueof their individual opinions and their personalities must be constantlychecked by a careful consideration of the advantages or disadvantageswhich they have enjoyed or suffered from their partisan ties. 

Mr. William J. Bryan is a fine figure of a man--amiable, winning, disinterested, courageous, enthusiastic, genuinely patriotic, and aftera fashion liberal in spirit. Although he hails from Nebraska, he is intemperament a Democrat of the Middle Period--a Democrat of the days whenorganization in business and politics did not count for as much as itdoes to-day, and when excellent intentions and noble sentiments embodiedin big flowing words were the popular currency of American democracy. But while an old-fashioned Democrat in temperament, he has become inideas a curious mixture of traditional democracy and modern Westernradicalism; and he can, perhaps, be best understood as a Democrat ofboth Jeffersonian and Jacksonian tendencies, who has been born a fewgenerations too late. He is honestly seeking to deal with contemporaryAmerican political problems in the spirit, if not according to theletter, of traditional democracy; but though he is making a gallantfight and a brave show, his efforts are not being rewarded with anyconspicuous measure of success. 

Mr. Bryan has always been a reformer, but his programme of reform hasalways been ill conceived. His first conspicuous appearance in publiclife in the Democratic Convention of 1806 was occasioned by the acuteand widespread economic distress among his own people west of theMississippi; and the means whereby he sought to remedy that distress, viz. By a change in the currency system, which would enable the Westerndebtors partly to repudiate their debts, was a genuine result ofJacksonian economic ideas. The Jacksonian Democracy, being the productof agricultural life, and being inexperienced in the complicatedbusiness of finance, has always relished financial heresies. Bryan'sfirst campaign was, consequently, a new assertion of a time-honoredtendency of his party; and in other respects, also, he exhibited alingering fealty to its older traditions. Reformer though he be, he hasnever been much interested in civil service reform, or in any agitationslooking in the direction of the diminution of the influence of theprofessional politician. The reforms for which he has stood have beeneconomic, and he has had little sympathy with any thorough-goingattempt to disturb even such an equivocally Democratic institution asthe spoils system. Yet his lack of sympathy with this aspect of reformwas not due to any preference for corruption. It must be traced to apersistence of the old Democratic prejudice that administrativespecialization, like other kinds of expert service, implied adiscrimination against the average Democrat. 

After the revival of prosperity among his own people had shown thatpartial repudiation was not the only cure for poverty, Mr. Bryan foughthis second campaign chiefly on the issue of imperialism, and again metwith defeat. But in this instance his platform was influenced more byJeffersonian than Jacksonian ideas. The Jacksonian Democracy had alwaysbeen expansionist in disposition and policy, and under the influence oftheir nationalism they had lost interest in Jefferson's humanitarianism. In this matter, however, Mr. Bryan has shown more sympathy with thefirst than with the second phase of the Democratic tradition; and inmaking this choice he was undoubtedly more faithful to the spirit andthe letter of the Democratic creed than were the expansionist Democratsof the Middle Period. The traditional American democracy has frequentlybeen national in feeling, but it has never been national in idea andpurpose. In the campaign of 1900 Mr. Bryan committed himself and hisparty to an anti-national point of view; and no matter how wellintentioned and consistent he was in so doing, he made a second mistake, even more disastrous than the first. In seeking to prevent hiscountrymen from asserting their national interest beyond their owncontinent, he was also opposing in effect the resolute assertion of thenational interest in domestic affairs. He stamped himself, that is, asan anti-nationalist, and his anti-nationalism has disqualified him foreffective leadership of the party of reform. 

Mr. Bryan's anti-nationalism is peculiarly embarrassing to his politicalefficiency just because he is, as I have indicated, in many of his ideasan advanced contemporary radical. He is, indeed, more of a radical thanany other political leader of similar prominence; and his radicalism isthe result of a sincere and a candid attempt to think out a satisfactorysolution of the contemporary economic and political problems. As aresult of these reflections he dared to advocate openly andunequivocally the public ownership of the railway system of the country;and he has proposed, also, a measure of Federal regulation ofcorporations, conducting an inter-state business, much more drastic thanthat of Mr. Roosevelt. These proposed increases of Federalresponsibility and power would have been considered outrageous by anold-fashioned Democrat; and they indicate on the part of Mr. Bryan anunusually liberal and courageous mind. But the value and effect of hisradicalism is seriously impaired by the manner in which it is qualified. He proposes in one breath enormous increases of Federal power andresponsibility, and in the next betrays the old Democratic distrust ofeffective national organization. He is willing to grant power to theFederal authorities, but he denies them any confidence, because of thedemocratic tradition of an essential conflict between politicalauthority, particularly so far as it is centralized, and the popularinterest. He is incapable of adapting his general political theories tohis actual political programme; and, consequently, the utmost personalenthusiasm on his part and great power of effective political agitationcannot give essential coherence, substantial integrity, or triumphanteffect to his campaigns. 

The incoherence of his political thinking is best exemplified by the wayin which he proposed to nationalize the American railway system. Hisadvocacy of public ownership was the most courageous act of hispolitical career; but he soon showed that he was prepared neither toinsist upon such a policy nor even to carry it to a logical conclusion. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he became horrifiedat his own audacity and sought to mitigate its effects. He admitted thatthe centralization of so much power was dangerous, and he sought to makethese dangers less by proposing that the states appropriate therailroads operating within the boundaries of one state, and the centralgovernment, only the large inter-state systems. But this qualificationdestroyed the effect of his Federalist audacity. The inter-staterailroads constitute such an enormous percentage of the total mileage ofthe country that if centralized governmental control was dangerous forall the railroads of the country, it would be almost equally dangerousfor that proportion of the railway mileage operated as part ofinter-state systems. In the one and the same speech, that is, Mr. Bryanplaced himself on record as a radical centralizer of economic andpolitical power and as a man who was on general principles afraid ofcentralization and opposed to it. No wonder public opinion did not takehis proposal seriously, and no wonder he himself has gradually droppedit out of his practical programme. 

The confusion and inconsistency of Mr. Bryan's own thinking is merelythe reflection of the confusion and inconsistency resident in the creedof his party. It is particularly conspicuous in his case, because he is, as I have intimated, a sincere and within limits a candid thinker; butJeffersonian and Jacksonian Democrats alike have always distrusted andcondemned the means whereby alone the underlying purposes of democracycan be fulfilled. Mr. Bryan is in no respect more genuinely Democraticthan in his incoherence. The remedial policy which he proposes for theills of the American political body are meaningless, unless sustained byfaith in the ability of the national political organization to promotethe national welfare. His needs for the success and integrity of his ownpolicy a conviction which his traditions prevent him from entertaining. He is possessed by the time-honored Democratic dislike of organizationand of the faith in expert skill, in specialized training, and in largepersonal opportunities and responsibilities which are implied by a trustin organization. Of course he himself would deny that he was the enemyof anything which made towards human betterment, for it ischaracteristic of the old-fashioned Democrats verbally to side with theangels, but at the same time to insist on clipping their wings. Hisfundamental prejudice against efficient organization and personalindependence is plainly betrayed by his opinions in relation toinstitutional reform--which are absolutely those of a Democrat of theMiddle Period. He is on record in favor of destroying the independenceof the Federal judiciary by making it elective, of diminishing theauthority of the President by allowing him only a suspensive veto onlegislation, and of converting representative assemblies into amachinery, like that of the old French Parliaments, for merelyregistering the Sovereign will. Faith in the people and confidence inpopular government means to Mr. Bryan an utter lack of faith in thosepersonal instruments whereby such rule can be endowed with foresight, moderation, and direction. Confidence in the average man, that is, meansto him distrust in the exceptional man, or in any sort of organizationwhich bestows on the exceptional man an opportunity equal to his abilityand equipment. He stands for the sacrifice of the individual to thepopular average; and the perpetuation of such a sacrifice would meanultimate democratic degeneration. 

IV

WILLIAM TRAVERS JEROME AS A REFORMER

Mr. William Travers Jerome has not so assured a rank in the hierarchy ofreformers as he had a few years ago, but his work and his point of viewremain typical and significant. Unlike Mr. Bryan, he is in temperamentand sympathies far from being an old-fashioned Democrat. He is, as hisofficial expositor, the late Mr. Alfred Hodder, says, "a typicalAmerican of the new time. " No old-fashioned Democrat would have smokedcigarettes, tossed dice in public for drinks, and "handed out" slang tohis constituents; and his unconventionally in these respects is merelyan occasional expression of a novel, individual, and refreshing point ofview. Mr. Jerome alone among American politicians has made a specialtyof plain speaking. He has revolted against the tradition in our politicswhich seeks to stop every leak with a good intention and plaster everysore with a "decorative phrase. " He has, says Mr. Hodder, "a partlyGallic passion for intellectual veracity, for a clear recognition of thefacts before him, however ugly, and a wholly Gallic hatred ofhypocrisy. " It is Mr. Jerome's intellectual veracity, his somewhatconscious and strenuous ideal of plain speaking, which has been hispersonal contribution to the cause of reform; and he is right inbelieving it to be a very important contribution. The effective work ofreform, as has already been pointed out, demands on the part of itsleaders the intellectual virtues of candor, consistency, and a clearrecognition of facts. In Mr. Jerome's own case his candor and his clearrecognition of facts have been used almost exclusively in the field ofmunicipal reform. He has vigorously protested against existing lawswhich have been passed in obedience to a rigorous puritanism, which, because of their defiance of stubborn facts, can scarcely be enforced, and whose statutory existence merely provides an opportunity for the"grafter. " He has clearly discerned that in seeking the amendment ofsuch laws he is obliged to fight, not merely an unwise statute, but anerroneous, superficial, and hypocritical state of mind. Although it mayhave been his own official duty as district attorney to see that certainlaws are enforced and to prosecute the law breakers, he fully realizesthat municipal reform at least will never attain its ends until thepublic--the respectable, well-to-do, church-going public--is convertedto an abandonment of what Mr. Hodder calls administrative lying. Consequently his intellectual candor is more than a personalpeculiarity--more even than an extremely effective method of popularagitation. It is the expression of a deeper aspect of reform, which manyrespectable reformers, not merely ignore, but fear and reprobate, --anaspect of reform which can never prevail until the reformers themselvesare subjected to a process of purgation and education. 

It has happened, however, that Mr. Jerome's reputation and successeshave been won in the field of local politics; and, unfortunately, assoon as he transgressed the boundaries of that field, he lost hisefficiency, his insight, and, to my mind, his interest. Only a yearafter he was elected to the district attorneyship of New York County, inspite of the opposition both of Tammany and William R. Hearst, heoffered himself as a candidate for the Democratic gubernatorialnomination of New York on the comprehensive platform of his oath ofoffice; but in the larger arena his tactics proved to be ineffective, and his recent popularity of small avail. He cut no figure at all in theconvention, and a very insignificant one outside. Neither was there anyreason to be surprised at this result. In municipal politics he stoodfor an ideal and a method of agitation which was both individual and ofgreat value. In state and national politics he stood for nothingindividual, for nothing of peculiar value, for no specific group ofideas or scheme of policy. The announcement that a candidate's platformconsists of his oath of office doubtless has a full persuasive sound tomany Americans; but it was none the less on Mr. Jerome's part an ineptand meaningless performance. He was bidding for support merely on theground that he was an honest man who proposed to keep his word; buthonesty and good faith are qualities which the public have a right totake for granted in their officials, and no candidate can lay peculiarclaim to them without becoming politically sanctimonious. Mr. Hearst'sstrength consisted in the fact that he had for years stood for aparticular group of ideas and a particular attitude of mind towards theproblems of state and national politics, while Mr. Jerome's weaknessconsisted in the fact that he had never really tried to lead publicopinion in relation to state and national political problems, and thathe was obliged to claim support on the score of personal moralsuperiority to his opponent. The moral superiority may be admitted; butalone it never would and never should contribute to his election. Intimes like these a reformer must identify a particular group of remedialmeasures with his public personality. The public has a right to know inwhat definite ways a reformer's righteousness is to be made effective;and Mr. Jerome has never taken any vigorous and novel line in relationto the problems of state and national politics. When he speaks on thosesubjects, he loses his vivacity, and betrays in his thinking a tendencyto old-fashioned Democracy far beyond that of Mr. Bryan. He becomes inhis opinions eminently respectable and tolerably dull, which is, as thelate Mr. Alfred Hodder could have told him, quite out of keeping withthe part of a "New American. "

Mr. Jerome has never given the smallest evidence of having taken seriousindependent thought on our fundamental political problems. In certainpoints of detail respecting general political questions he has shown arefreshing freedom from conventional illusions; but, so far as I know, no public word has ever escaped him, which indicates that he has appliedhis "ideal of intellectual veracity, " "his Gallic instinct forconsistency, " to the creed of his own party. When confronted by thefabric of traditional Jeffersonian Democracy, his mind, like that of somany other Democrats, is immediately lulled into repose. In one of hisspeeches, for instance, he has referred to his party as essentially theparty of "liberal ideas, " and he was much praised by the anti-Hearstnewspapers for this consoling description; but it can hardly beconsidered as an illustration of Mr. Jerome's "intellectual veracity. "If by "liberal ideas" one means economic and political heresies, such asnullification, "squatter" sovereignty, secession, free silver, andoccasional projects of repudiation, then, indeed, the Democracy hasbeen a party of "liberal ideas. " But heresies of this kind are not theexpression of liberal thought; they are the result of various phases oflocal political and economic discontent. When a group of Democratsbecome "liberal, " it usually means that they are doing a bad business, or are suffering from a real or supposed injury. But if by "liberal" wemean, not merely radical and subversive, but progressive national ideas, the application of the adjective to the Democratic party is attendedwith certain difficulties. In the course of American history whatmeasure of legislation expressive of a progressive national idea can beattributed to the Democratic party? At times it has been possessed bycertain revolutionary tendencies; at other times it has been steeped inBourbon conservatism. At present it is alternating between one and theother, according to the needs and opportunities of the immediatepolitical situation. It is trying to find room within its hospitablefolds for both Alton B. Parker and William J. Bryan, and it has such anappetite for inconsistencies that it may succeed. But in that event onewould expect some symptoms of uneasiness on the part of a Democraticreformer with "Gallic clearness and consistency of mind, with aninstinct for consistency, and a hatred of hypocrisy. "

V

WILLIAM R. HEARST AS A REFORMER

The truth is that Mr. William R. Hearst offers his countrymen a fairexpression of the kind of "liberal ideas" proper to the creed ofdemocracy. In respect to patriotism and personal character Mr. Bryan isa better example of the representative Democrat than is Mr. Hearst; butin the tendency and spirit of his agitation for reform Hearst morecompletely reveals the true nature of Democratic "liberalism. " When Mr. Lincoln Steffens asserts on the authority of the "man of mystery"himself that one of Hearst's mysterious actions has been a profound andsearching study of Jeffersonian doctrine, I can almost bring myself tobelieve the assertion. The radicalism of Hearst is simply anunscrupulous expression of the radical element in the Jeffersoniantradition. He bases his whole agitation upon the sacred idea of equalrights for all and special privileges for none, and he indignantlydisclaims the taint of socialism. His specific remedial proposals do notdiffer essentially from those of Mr. Bryan. His methods of agitation andhis popular catch words are an ingenious adaptation of Jefferson to theneeds of political "yellow journalism. " He is always an advocate of thepopular fact. He always detests the unpopular word. He approvesexpansion, but abhors imperialism. He welcomes any opportunity for war, but execrates militarism. He wants the Federal government to crush thetrusts by the most drastic legislation, but he is opposed tocentralization. The institutional reforms which he favors all of themlook in the direction of destroying what remains of judicial, executive, or legislative independence. The whole programme is as incoherent as isthat of Mr. Bryan; but incoherence is the least of his faults. Mr. Bryan's inconsistencies are partly redeemed by his genuine patriotism. The distracting effect of Hearst's inconsistencies is intensified by hisfactiousness. He is more and less than a radical. He is in temper arevolutionist. The disgust and distrust which he excites is the issue ofa wholesome political and social instinct, for the political instinctsof the American people are often much sounder than their ideas. Hearstand Hearstism is a living menace to the orderly process of reform and toAmerican national integrity. 

Hearst is revolutionary in spirit, because the principle of equal rightsitself, in the hand either of a fanatic or a demagogue, can be convertedinto a revolutionary principle. He considers, as do all reformers, theprevalent inequalities of economic and political power to be violationsof that principle. He also believes in the truth of American politicalindividualism, and in the adequacy, except in certain minor respects, ofour systems of inherited institutions. How, then, did these inequalitiescome about? How did the Democratic political system of Jefferson andJackson issue in undemocratic inequalities? The answer is obviously (andit is an answer drawn by other reformers) that these inequalities arethe work of wicked and unscrupulous men. Financial or political piratesof one kind or another have been preying on the guileless public, and bymeans of their aggressions have perversely violated the supreme law ofequal rights. These men must be exposed; they must be denounced asenemies of the people; they must be held up to public execration andscorn; they must become the objects of a righteous popular vengeance. Such are the feelings and ideas which possess the followers of Hearst, and on the basis of which Hearst himself acts and talks. An apparentjustification is reached for a systematic vilification of the trusts, the "predatory" millionaires and their supporters; and such vilificationhas become Hearst's peculiar stock in trade. In effect he treats hisopponents very much as the French revolutionary leaders treated theiropponents, so that in case the conflict should become still moreembittered, his "reformed" democracy may resemble the purified republicof which Robespierre and St. Just dreamed when they sent Desmoulins andDanton to the guillotine. When he embodies such ideas and betrays such aspirit, the disputed point as to Hearst's sincerity sinks intoinsignificance. A fanatic sincerely possessed by these ideas is a moredangerous menace to American national integrity and the Promise ofAmerican democracy than the sheerest demagogue. 

The logic of Hearst's agitation is analogous to the logic of theanti-slavery agitation in 1830, and Hearstism is merely Abolitionismapplied to a new material and translated into rowdy journalism. TheAbolitionists, believing as they did, that the institution of slaveryviolated an abstract principle of political justice, felt thereby fullyauthorized to vilify the Southern slaveholders as far as the resourcesof the English language would permit. They attempted to remedy oneinjustice by committing another injustice; and by the violence of theirmethods they almost succeeded in tearing apart the good fabric of ournational life. Hearst is headed in precisely the same direction. He isdoing a radical injustice to a large body of respectable Americancitizens who, like Hearst himself, have merely shown a certain lack ofscruple in taking advantage of the opportunities which the Americanpolitical and economic system offers, and who have been distinguishedrather by peculiar ability and energy than by peculiar selfishness. On arigid interpretation of the principle of equal rights he may bejustified in holding them up to public execration, just as theAbolitionists, on the principle that the right to freedom was a Divinelaw, might be justified in vilifying the Southerners. But as a matter offact we know that personally neither the millionaire nor theslave-holder deserves such denunciation; and we ought to know that theprejudices and passions provoked by language of this kind violate theessential principle both of nationality and democracy. The foundation ofnationality is mutual confidence and fair dealing, and the aim ofdemocracy is a better quality of human nature effected by a higher typeof human association. Hearstism, like Abolitionism, is the work ofunbalanced and vindictive men, and increases enormously the difficultyof the wise and effective cure of the contemporary evils. 

Yet Hearst, as little as the millionaires he denounces, is not entirelyresponsible for himself. Such a responsibility would be too heavy forthe shoulders of one man. He has been given to the American people fortheir sins in politics and economics. His opponents may scold him asmuch as they please. They may call him a demagogue and a charlatan; theymay accuse him of corrupting the public mind and pandering to degradingpassions; they may declare that his abusive attacks on the late Mr. McKinley were at least indirectly the cause of that gentleman'sassassination; they may, in short, behave and talk as if he were a muchmore dangerous public enemy than the most "tainted" millionaire or themost corrupt politician. Nevertheless they cannot deprive him or hisimitators of the standing to be obtained from the proclamation of arigorous interpretation of the principle of equal rights. Hearst hasunderstood that principle better than the other reformers, or theconservatives who claim its authority. He has exhibited itsdisintegrating and revolutionary implications; and he has convinced alarge, though fluctuating, following that he is only fighting forjustice. He personally may or may not have run his course, but it ismanifest that his peculiar application of the principle of equal rightsto our contemporary economic and political problems has come to stay. Aslong as that principle keeps its present high position in the hierarchyof American political ideas, just so long will it afford authority andcountenance to agitators like Hearst. He is not a passing danger, whichwill disappear in case the truly Herculean efforts to discredit himpersonally continue to be successful. Just as slavery was the ghost inthe House of the American Democracy during the Middle Period, soHearstism is and will remain the ghost in the House of Reform. And theincantation by which it will be permanently exorcised has not yet beenpublicly phrased. 

VI

THEODORE ROOSEVELT AS A REFORMER

It is fortunate, consequently, that one reformer can be named whose workhas tended to give reform the dignity of a constructive mission. Mr. Theodore Roosevelt's behavior at least is not dictated by negativeconception of reform. During the course of an extremely active andvaried political career he has, indeed, been all kinds of a reformer. His first appearance in public life, as a member of the Legislature ofNew York, coincided with an outbreak of dissatisfaction over the charterof New York City; and Mr. Roosevelt's name was identified with the billswhich began the revision of that very much revised instrument. Somewhatlater, as one of the Federal Commissioners, Mr. Roosevelt made a mostuseful contribution to the more effective enforcement of the CivilService Law. Still later, as Police Commissioner of New York City, hehad his experience of reform by means of unregenerate instruments andadministrative lies. Then, as Governor of the State of New York, he wasinstrumental in securing the passage of a law taxing franchises as realproperty and thus faced for the first time and in a preliminary way themany-headed problem of the trusts. Finally, when an accident placed himin the Presidential chair, he consistently used the power of the Federalgovernment and his own influence and popularity for the purpose ofregulating the corporations in what he believed to be the publicinterest. No other American has had anything like so varied and sointimate an acquaintance with the practical work of reform as has Mr. Roosevelt; and when, after more than twenty years of such experience, headds to the work of administrative reform the additional task ofpolitical and economic reconstruction, his originality cannot beconsidered the result of innocence. Mr. Roosevelt's reconstructivepolicy does not go very far in purpose or achievement, but limited as itis, it does tend to give the agitation for reform the benefit of a muchmore positive significance and a much more dignified task. 

Mr. Roosevelt has imparted a higher and more positive significance toreform, because throughout his career he has consistently stood for anidea, from which the idea of reform cannot be separated--namely, thenational idea. He has, indeed, been even more of a nationalist than hehas a reformer. His most important literary work was a history of thebeginning of American national expansion. He has treated all publicquestions from a vigorous, even from an extreme, national standpoint. NoAmerican politician was more eager to assert the national interestagainst an actual or a possible foreign enemy; and not even William R. Hearst was more resolute to involve his country in a war with Spain. Fortunately, however, his aggressive nationalism did not, like that ofso many other statesmen, faint from exhaustion as soon as there were nomore foreign enemies to defy. He was the first political leader of theAmerican people to identify the national principle with an ideal ofreform. He was the first to realize that an American statesman could nolonger really represent the national interest without becoming areformer. Mr. Grover Cleveland showed a glimmering of the necessity ofthis affiliation; but he could not carry it far, because, as a sinceretraditional Democrat, he could not reach a clear understanding of themeaning either of reform or of nationality. Mr. Roosevelt, however, divined that an American statesman who eschewed or evaded the work ofreform came inevitably to represent either special and local interestsor else a merely Bourbon political tradition, and in this way wasdisqualified for genuinely national service. He divined that thenational principle involved a continual process of internal reformation;and that the reforming idea implied the necessity of more efficientnational organization. Consequently, when he became President of theUnited States and the official representative of the national interestof the country, he attained finally his proper sphere of action. Heimmediately began the salutary and indispensable work of nationalizingthe reform movement. 

The nationalization of reform endowed the movement with new vitality andmeaning. What Mr. Roosevelt really did was to revive the Hamiltonianideal of constructive national legislation. During the whole of thenineteenth century that ideal, while by no means dead, was disabled byassociations and conditions from active and efficient service. Not untilthe end of the Spanish War was a condition of public feeling created, which made it possible to revive Hamiltonianism. That war and itsresulting policy of extra-territorial expansion, so far from hinderingthe process of domestic amelioration, availed, from the sheer force ofthe national aspirations it aroused, to give a tremendous impulse to thework of national reform. It made Americans more sensitive to a nationalidea and more conscious of their national responsibilities, and itindirectly helped to place in the Presidential chair the man who, as Ihave said, represented both the national idea and the spirit of reform. The sincere and intelligent combination of those two ideas is bound toissue in the Hamiltonian practice of constructive national legislation. 

Of course Theodore Roosevelt is Hamiltonian with a difference. Hamilton's fatal error consisted in his attempt to make the Federalorganization not merely the effective engine of the national interest, but also a bulwark against the rising tide of democracy. The newFederalism or rather new Nationalism is not in any way inimical todemocracy. On the contrary, not only does Mr. Roosevelt believe himselfto be an unimpeachable democrat in theory, but he has given hisfellow-countrymen a useful example of the way in which a college-bredand a well-to-do man can become by somewhat forcible means a goodpractical democrat. The whole tendency of his programme is to give ademocratic meaning and purpose to the Hamiltonian tradition and method. He proposes to use the power and the resources of the Federal governmentfor the purpose of making his countrymen a more complete democracy inorganization and practice; but he does not make these proposals, as Mr. Bryan does, gingerly and with a bad conscience. He makes them with afrank and full confidence in an efficient national organization as thenecessary agent of the national interest and purpose. He has completelyabandoned that part of the traditional democratic creed which tends toregard the assumption by the government of responsibility, and itsendowment with power adequate to the responsibility as inherentlydangerous and undemocratic. He realizes that any efficiency oforganization and delegation of power which is necessary to thepromotion of the American national interest must be helpful todemocracy. More than any other American political leader, exceptLincoln, his devotion both to the national and to the democratic ideasis thorough-going and absolute. 

As the founder of a new national democracy, then, his influence and hiswork have tended to emancipate American democracy from its Jeffersonianbondage. They have tended to give a new meaning to popular government byendowing it with larger powers, more positive responsibilities, and abetter faith in human excellence. Jefferson believed theoretically inhuman goodness, but in actual practice his faith in human nature wasexceedingly restricted. Just as the older aristocratic theory had beento justify hereditary political leadership by considering the ordinaryman as necessarily irresponsible and incapable, so the early Frenchdemocrats, and Jefferson after them, made faith in the people equivalentto a profound suspicion of responsible official leadership. Exceptionalpower merely offered exceptional opportunities for abuse. He refused, asfar as he could, to endow special men, even when chosen by the people, with any opportunity to promote the public welfare proportionate totheir abilities. So far as his influence has prevailed the government ofthe country was organized on the basis of a cordial distrust of the manof exceptional competence, training, or independence as a publicofficial. To the present day this distrust remains the sign by which thedemoralizing influence of the Jeffersonian democratic creed is mostplainly to be traced. So far as it continues to be influential itdestroys one necessary condition of responsible and efficientgovernment, and it is bound to paralyze any attempt to make the nationalorganization adequate to the promotion of the national interest. Mr. Roosevelt has exhibited his genuinely national spirit in nothing soclearly as in his endeavor to give to men of special ability, training, and eminence a better opportunity to serve the public. He has not onlyappointed such men to office, but he has tried to supply them with anadministrative machinery which would enable them to use their abilitiesto the best public advantage; and he has thereby shown a faith in humannature far more edifying and far more genuinely democratic than that ofJefferson or Jackson. 

Mr. Roosevelt, however, has still another title to distinction among thebrethren of reform. He has not only nationalized the movement, andpointed it in the direction of a better conception of democracy, but hehas rallied to its hammer the ostensible, if not the very enthusiastic, support of the Republican party. He has restored that party to somesense of its historic position and purpose. As the party which beforethe War had insisted on making the nation answerable for the solution ofthe slavery problem, it has inherited the tradition of nationalresponsibility for the national good; but it was rapidly losing allsense of its historic mission, and, like the Whigs, was constantly usingits principle and its prestige as a cloak for the aggrandizement ofspecial interests. At its worst it had, indeed, earned some claim on theallegiance of patriotic Americans by its defense of the fiscal system ofthe country against Mr. Bryan's well-meant but dangerous attack, and byits acceptance after the Spanish War of the responsibilities ofextra-territorial expansion; but there was grave danger that itsalliance with the "vested" interests would make it unfaithful to itspast as the party of responsible national action. It escaped such a fateonly by an extremely narrow margin; and the fact that it did escape isdue chiefly to the personal influence of Theodore Roosevelt. TheRepublican party is still very far from being a wholly sincere agent ofthe national reform interest. Its official leadership is opposed toreform; and it cannot be made to take a single step in advance exceptunder compulsion. But Mr. Roosevelt probably prevented it from driftinginto the position of an anti-reform party--which if it had happenedwould have meant its ruin, and would have damaged the cause of nationalreform. A Republican party which was untrue to the principle of nationalresponsibility would have no reason for existence; and the Democraticparty, as we have seen, cannot become the party of nationalresponsibility without being faithless to its own creed. 

VII

THE REFORMATION OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT

Before finishing this account of Mr. Roosevelt's services as a reformer, and his place in the reforming movement, a serious objection on thescore of consistency must be fairly faced. Even admitting that Mr. Roosevelt has dignified reform by identifying it with a programme ofconstructive national legislation, does the fundamental purpose of hisreforming legislation differ essentially from that of Mr. Bryan or Mr. Hearst? How can he be called the founder of a new national democracywhen the purpose of democracy from his point of view remainssubstantially the Jeffersonian ideal of equal rights for all and specialprivileges for none? If, in one respect, he has been emancipatingAmerican democracy from the Jeffersonian bondage, he has in anotherrespect been tightening the bonds, because he has continued to identifydemocracy with the legal constitution of a system of insurgent, ambiguous, and indiscriminate individual rights. 

The validity of such a criticism from the point of view of this bookcannot be disputed. The figure of the "Square Deal, " which Mr. Roosevelthas flourished so vigorously in public addresses, is a translation intothe American vernacular of the Jeffersonian principle of equal rights;and in Mr. Roosevelt's dissertations upon the American ideal he hasexpressly disclaimed the notion of any more positive definition of thepurpose of American democracy. Moreover, his favorite figure gives asinister application to his assertions that the principle of equalrights is being violated. If the American people are not getting a"Square Deal, " it must mean that they are having the cards stackedagainst them; and in that case the questions of paramount importanceare: Who are stacking the cards? And how can they be punished? These areprecisely the questions which Hearst is always asking and Hearstism isseeking to answer. Neither has Mr. Roosevelt himself entirely escapedthe misleading effects of his own figure. He has too frequently talkedas if his opponents deserved to be treated as dishonest sharpers; and hehas sometimes behaved as if his suspicions of unfair play on their partwere injuring the coolness of his judgment. But at bottom and in thelong run Mr. Roosevelt is too fair-minded a man and too patriotic acitizen to become much the victim of his dangerous figure of the "SquareDeal. " He inculcates for the most part in his political sermons aspirit, not of suspicion and hatred, but of mutual forbearance andconfidence; and his programme of reform attaches more importance to arevision of the rules of the game than to the treatment of the winnersunder the old rules as one would treat a dishonest gambler. 

In truth, Mr. Roosevelt has been building either better than he knows orbetter than he cares to admit. The real meaning of his programme is morenovel and more radical than he himself has publicly proclaimed. Itimplies a conception of democracy and its purpose very different fromthe Jeffersonian doctrine of equal rights. Evidences of deep antagonismcan be discerned between the Hamiltonian method and spirit, representedby Mr. Roosevelt, and a conception of democracy which makes it consistfundamentally in the practical realization of any system of equalrights. The distrust with which thorough-going Jeffersonians regard Mr. Roosevelt's nationalizing programme is a justifiable distrust, becauseefficient and responsible national organization would be dangerouseither to or in the sort of democracy which the doctrine of equal rightsencourages--a democracy of suspicious discontent, of selfish claims, offactious agitation, and of individual and class aggression. A thoroughlyresponsible and efficient national organization would be dangerous insuch a democracy, because it might well be captured by some combinationof local individual or class interests; and the only effective way toguard against such a danger is to substitute for the Jeffersoniandemocracy of individual rights a democracy of individual and socialimprovement. A democracy of individual rights, that is, must eithersuffer reconstruction by the logic of a process of efficient nationalorganization, or else it may pervert that organization to the service ofits own ambiguous, contradictory, and in the end subversive politicalpurposes. A better justification for these statements must be reservedfor the succeeding chapter; but in the meantime I will take the riskasserting that Mr. Roosevelt's nationalism really implies a democracy ofindividual and social improvement. His nationalizing programme has ineffect questioned the value of certain fundamental American ideas, andif Mr. Roosevelt has not himself outgrown these ideas, his misreading ofhis own work need not be a matter of surprise. It is what one wouldexpect from the prophet of the Strenuous Life. 

Mr. Roosevelt has done little to encourage candid and consistentthinking. He has preached the doctrine that the paramount and almost theexclusive duty of the American citizen consists in being asixty-horse-power moral motor-car. In his own career his intelligencehas been the handmaid of his will; and the balance between thosefaculties, so finely exemplified in Abraham Lincoln, has been destroyedby sheer exuberance of moral energy. But although his intelligence ismerely the servant of his will, it is at least the willing and competentservant of a single-minded master. If it has not been leavened by therigorous routine of its work, neither has it been cheapened; and theservice has constantly been growing better worth while. During thecourse of his public career, his original integrity of characterhas been intensified by the stress of his labors, his achievements, his experiences, and his exhortations. An individuality such ashis--wrought with so much consistent purpose out of much variety ofexperience--brings with it an intellectual economy of its own and asincere and useful sort of intellectual enlightenment. He may be figuredas a Thor wielding with power and effect a sledge-hammer in the cause ofnational righteousness; and the sympathetic observer, who is not stunnedby the noise of the hammer, may occasionally be rewarded by the sight ofsomething more illuminating than a piece of rebellious metal beaten intoshape. He may be rewarded by certain unexpected gleams of insight, as ifthe face of the sledge-hammer were worn bright by hard service andflashed in the sunlight. Mr. Roosevelt sees as far ahead and as much ashe needs to see. He has an almost infallible sense of where to strikethe next important blow, and even during the ponderous labors of the dayhe prudently and confidently lays out the task of to-morrow. Thus whilehe has contributed to the liberation of American intelligence chiefly inthe sense that he has given his fellow-countrymen something to thinkabout, he is very far from being a blind, narrow, or unenlightenedleader. 

Doubtless the only practical road of advance at present is laborious, slow, and not too enlightened. For the time being the hammer is amightier weapon than the sword or the pen. Americans have the habit ofaction rather than of thought. Like their forbears in England, theybegin to do things, because their common sense tells them that suchthings have to be done, and then at a later date think over theaccomplished fact. A man in public life who told them that their "noblenational theory" was ambiguous and distracting, and that many of theirpopular catchwords were false and exercised a mischievous influence onpublic affairs, would do so at his own personal risk and cost. The taskof plain speaking must be suggested and justified by the achievement ofa considerable body of national reconstructive legislation, and musteven then devolve largely upon men who have from the political point ofview little to gain or to lose by their apparent heresies. The fact, however, that a responsible politician like Mr. Roosevelt must be anexample more of moral than of intellectual independence, increasesrather than diminishes the eventual importance of consistent thinkingand plain speaking as essential parts of the work of political reform. Areforming movement, whose supporters never understand its own propermeaning and purpose, is sure in the end to go astray. It is all verywell for Englishmen to do their thinking after the event, becausetradition lies at the basis of their national life. But Americans, as anation, are consecrated to the realization of a group of ideas; andideas to be fruitful must square both with the facts to which they areapplied and with one another. Mr. Roosevelt and his hammer must beaccepted gratefully, as the best available type of national reformer;but the day may and should come when a national reformer will appear whocan be figured more in the guise of St. Michael, armed with a flamingsword and winged for flight. 

CHAPTER VII

I

RECONSTRUCTION; ITS CONDITIONS AND PURPOSES

The best method of approaching a critical reconstruction of Americanpolitical ideas will be by means of an analysis of the meaning ofdemocracy. A clear popular understanding of the contents of thedemocratic principle is obviously of the utmost practical politicalimportance to the American people. Their loyalty to the idea ofdemocracy, as they understand it, cannot be questioned. Nothing of anyconsiderable political importance is done or left undone in the UnitedStates, unless such action or inaction can be plausibly defended ondemocratic grounds; and the only way to secure for the American peoplethe benefit of a comprehensive and consistent political policy will beto derive it from a comprehensive and consistent conception ofdemocracy. 

Democracy as most frequently understood is essentially and exhaustivelydefined as a matter of popular government; and such a definition raisesat once a multitude of time-honored, but by no means superannuated, controversies. The constitutional liberals in England, in France, and inthis country have always objected to democracy as so understood, becauseof the possible sanction it affords for the substitution of a populardespotism in the place of the former royal or oligarchic despotisms. From their point of view individual liberty is the greatest blessingwhich can be secured to a people by a government; and individual libertycan be permanently guaranteed only in case political liberties are intheory and practice subordinated to civil liberties. Popular politicalinstitutions constitute a good servant, but a bad master. Whenintroduced in moderation they keep the government of a country in closerelation with well-informed public opinion, which is a necessarycondition of political sanitation; but if carried too far, suchinstitutions compromise the security of the individual and the integrityof the state. They erect a power in the state, which in theory isunlimited and which constantly tends in practice to dispense withrestrictions. A power which is theoretically absolute is under noobligation to respect the rights either of individuals or minorities;and sooner or later such power will be used for the purpose of opposingthe individual. The only way to secure individual liberty is, consequently, to organize a state in which the Sovereign power isdeprived of any national excuse or legal opportunity of violatingcertain essential individual rights. 

The foregoing criticism of democracy, defined as popular government, mayhave much practical importance; but there are objections to it on thescore of logic. It is not a criticism of a certain conception ofdemocracy, so much as of democracy itself. Ultimate responsibility forthe government of a community must reside somewhere. If the singlemonarch is practically dethroned, as he is by these liberal critics ofdemocracy, some Sovereign power must be provided to take his place. InEngland Parliament, by means of a steady encroachment on the royalprerogatives, has gradually become Sovereign; but other countries, suchas France and the United States, which have wholly dispensed withroyalty, cannot, even if they would, make a legislative body Sovereignby the simple process of allowing it to usurp power once enjoyed by theCrown. France did, indeed, after it had finally dispensed withLegitimacy, make two attempts to found governments in which the theoryof popular Sovereignty was evaded. The Orleans monarchy, for instance, through the mouths of its friends, denied Sovereignty to the people, without being able to claim it for the King; and this insecurity of itslegal framework was an indirect cause of a violent explosion ofeffective popular Sovereignty in 1848. The apologists for the SecondEmpire admitted the theory of a Sovereign people, but claimed that theSovereign power could be safely and efficiently used only in case itwere delegated to one Napoleon III--a view the correctness of which theresults of the Imperial policy eventually tended to damage. There is inpoint of fact no logical escape from a theory of popularSovereignty--once the theory of divinely appointed royal Sovereignty isrejected. An escape can be made, of course, as in England, by means of acompromise and a legal fiction; and such an escape can be fullyjustified from the English national point of view; but countries whichhave rejected the royal and aristocratic tradition are forbidden thismeans of escape--if escape it is. They are obliged to admit the doctrineof popular Sovereignty. They are obliged to proclaim a theory ofunlimited popular powers. 

To be sure, a democracy may impose rules of action upon itself--as theAmerican democracy did in accepting the Federal Constitution. But inadopting the Federal Constitution the American people did not abandoneither its responsibilities or rights as Sovereign. Difficult as it maybe to escape from the legal framework defined in the Constitution, thatbody of law in theory remains merely an instrument which was made forthe people and which if necessary can and will be modified. A people, towhom was denied the ultimate responsibility for its welfare, would nothave obtained the prime condition of genuine liberty. Individual freedomis important, but more important still is the freedom of a whole peopleto dispose of its own destiny; and I do not see how the existence ofsuch an ultimate popular political freedom and responsibility can bedenied by any one who has rejected the theory of a divinely appointedpolitical order. The fallibility of human nature being what it is, thepractical application of this theory will have its grave dangers; butthese dangers are only evaded and postponed by a failure to placeultimate political responsibility where it belongs. While a country inthe position of Germany or Great Britain may be fully justified from thepoint of view of its national tradition, in merely compromising withdemocracy, other countries, such as the United States and France, whichhave earned the right to dispense with these compromises, are at leastbuilding their political structure on the real and righteous source ofpolitical authority. Democracy may mean something more than atheoretically absolute popular government, but it assuredly cannot meananything less. 

If, however, democracy does not mean anything less than popularSovereignty, it assuredly does mean something more. It must at leastmean an expression of the Sovereign will, which will not contradict anddestroy the continuous existence of its own Sovereign power. Severaltimes during the political history of France in the nineteenth century, the popular will has expressed itself in a manner adverse to popularpolitical institutions. Assemblies have been elected by universalsuffrage, whose tendencies have been reactionary and undemocratic, andwho have been supported in this reactionary policy by an effectivepublic opinion. Or the French people have by means of a plebiscitedelegated their Sovereign power to an Imperial dictator, whose wholepolitical system was based on a deep suspicion of the source of his ownauthority. A particular group of political institutions or course ofpolitical action may, then, be representative of the popular will, andyet may be undemocratic. Popular Sovereignty is self-contradictory, unless it is expressed in a manner favorable to its own perpetuity andintegrity. 

The assertion of the doctrine of popular Sovereignty is, consequently, rather the beginning than the end of democracy. There can be nodemocracy where the people do not rule; but government by the people isnot necessarily democratic. The popular will must in a democratic statebe expressed somehow in the interest of democracy itself; and we havenot traveled very far towards a satisfactory conception of democracyuntil this democratic purpose has received some definition. In what waymust a democratic state behave in order to contribute to its ownintegrity?

The ordinary American answer to this question is contained in theassertion of Lincoln, that our government is "dedicated to theproposition that all men are created equal. " Lincoln's phrasing of theprinciple was due to the fact that the obnoxious and undemocratic systemof negro slavery was uppermost in his mind when he made his Gettysburgaddress; but he meant by his assertion of the principle of equalitysubstantially what is meant to-day by the principle of "equal rights forall and special privileges for none. " Government by the people has itsnatural and logical complement in government for the people. Every statewith a legal framework must grant certain rights to individuals; andevery state, in so far as it is efficient, must guarantee to theindividual that his rights, as legally defined, are secure. But anessentially democratic state consists in the circumstance that allcitizens enjoy these rights equally. If any citizen or any group ofcitizens enjoys by virtue of the law any advantage over theirfellow-citizens, then the most sacred principle of democracy isviolated. On the other hand, a community in which no man or no group ofmen are granted by law any advantage over their fellow-citizens is thetype of the perfect and fruitful democratic state. Society is organizedpolitically for the benefit of all the people. Such an organization maypermit radical differences among individuals in the opportunities andpossessions they actually enjoy; but no man would be able to impute hisown success or failure to the legal framework of society. Every citizenwould be getting a "Square Deal. "

Such is the idea of the democratic state, which the majority of goodAmericans believe to be entirely satisfactory. It should endureindefinitely, because it seeks to satisfy every interest essential toassociated life. The interest of the individual is protected, because ofthe liberties he securely enjoys. The general social interest is equallywell protected, because the liberties enjoyed by one or by a few areenjoyed by all. Thus the individual and the social interests areautomatically harmonized. The virile democrat in pursuing his owninterest "under the law" is contributing effectively to the interest ofsociety, while the social interest consists precisely in the promotionof these individual interests, in so far as they can be equallyexercised. The divergent demands of the individual and the socialinterest can be reconciled by grafting the principle of equality on thethrifty tree of individual rights, and the ripe fruit thereof can begathered merely by shaking the tree. 

It must be immediately admitted, also, that the principle of equalrights, like the principle of ultimate popular political responsibilityis the expression of an essential aspect of democracy. There is no roomfor permanent legal privileges in a democratic state. Such privilegesmay be and frequently are defended on many excellent grounds. They mayunquestionably contribute for a time to social and economic efficiencyand to individual independence. But whatever advantage may be derivedfrom such permanent discriminations must be abandoned by a democracy. Itcannot afford to give any one class of its citizens a permanentadvantage or to others a permanent grievance. It ceases to be ademocracy, just as soon as any permanent privileges are conferred by itsinstitutions or its laws; and this equality of right and absence ofpermanent privilege is the expression of a fundamental social interest. 

But the principle of equal rights, like the principle of ultimatepopular political responsibility, is not sufficient; and because of itsinsufficiency results in certain dangerous ambiguities andself-contradictions. American political thinkers have always repudiatedthe idea that by equality of rights they meant anything like equality ofperformance or power. The utmost varieties of individual power andability are bound to exist and are bound to bring about many differentlevels of individual achievement. Democracy both recognizes the right ofthe individual to use his powers to the utmost, and encourages him to doso by offering a fair field and, in cases of success, an abundantreward. The democratic principle requires an equal start in the race, while expecting at the same time an unequal finish. But Americans whotalk in this way seem wholly blind to the fact that under a legal systemwhich holds private property sacred there may be equal rights, but therecannot possibly be any equal opportunities for exercising such rights. The chance which the individual has to compete with his fellows and takea prize in the race is vitally affected by material conditions overwhich he has no control. It is as if the competitor in a Marathon crosscountry run were denied proper nourishment or proper training, and wasobliged to toe the mark against rivals who had every benefit of food anddiscipline. Under such conditions he is not as badly off as if he wereentirely excluded from the race. With the aid of exceptional strengthand intelligence he may overcome the odds against him and win out. Butit would be absurd to claim, because all the rivals toed the same mark, that a man's victory or defeat depended exclusively on his own efforts. Those who have enjoyed the benefits of wealth and thorough educationstart with an advantage which can be overcome only in very exceptionalmen, --men so exceptional, in fact, that the average competitor withoutsuch benefits feels himself disqualified for the contest. 

Because of the ambiguity indicated above, different people withdifferent interests, all of them good patriotic Americans, draw verydifferent inferences from the doctrine of equal rights. The man ofconservative ideas and interests means by the rights, which are to beequally exercised, only those rights which are defined and protected bythe law--the more fundamental of which are the rights to personalfreedom and to private property. The man of radical ideas, on the otherhand, observing, as he may very clearly, that these equal rights cannotpossibly be made really equivalent to equal opportunities, bases uponthe same doctrine a more or less drastic criticism of the existingeconomic and social order and sometimes of the motives of itsbeneficiaries and conservators. The same principle, differentlyinterpreted, is the foundation of American political orthodoxy andAmerican political heterodoxy. The same measure of reforminglegislation, such as the new Inter-state Commerce Law, seems to oneparty a wholly inadequate attempt to make the exercise of individualrights a little more equal, while it seems to others an egregiousviolation of the principle itself. What with reforming legislation onthe one hand and the lack of it on the other, the once sweet air of theAmerican political mansion is soured by complaints. Privileges anddiscriminations seem to lurk in every political and economic corner. The"people" are appealing to the state to protect them against theusurpations of the corporations and the Bosses. The government isappealing to the courts to protect the shippers against the railroads. The corporations are appealing to the Federal courts to protect themfrom the unfair treatment of state legislatures. Employers are fightingtrades-unionism, because it denies equal rights to their employers. Theunionists are entreating public opinion to protect them against theunfairness of "government by injunction. " To the free trader the wholeprotectionist system seems a flagrant discrimination on behalf of acertain portion of the community. Everybody seems to be clamoring for a"Square Deal" but nobody seems to be getting it. 

The ambiguity of the principle of equal rights and the resultingconfusion of counsel are so obvious that there must be some good reasonfor their apparently unsuspected existence. The truth is that Americanshave not readjusted their political ideas to the teaching of theirpolitical and economic experience. For a couple of generations afterJefferson had established the doctrine of equal rights as thefundamental principle of the American democracy, the ambiguity residentin the application of the doctrine was concealed. The JacksonianDemocrats, for instance, who were constantly nosing the ground for ascent of unfair treatment, could discover no example of politicalprivileges, except the continued retention of their offices byexperienced public servants; and the only case of economic privilege ofwhich they were certain was that of the National Bank. The fact is, ofcourse, that the great majority of Americans were getting a "SquareDeal" as long as the economic opportunities of a new country had notbeen developed and appropriated. Individual and social interest didsubstantially coincide as long as so many opportunities were open to thepoor and untrained man, and as long as the public interest demandedfirst of all the utmost celerity of economic development. But, as wehave seen in a preceding chapter, the economic development of thecountry resulted inevitably in a condition which demanded on the part ofthe successful competitor either increasing capital, improved training, or a larger amount of ability and energy. With the advent of comparativeeconomic and social maturity, the exercise of certain legal rightsbecame substantially equivalent to the exercise of a privilege; and ifequality of opportunity was to be maintained, it could not be done byvirtue of non-interference. The demands of the "Higher Law" began todiverge from the results of the actual legal system. 

Public opinion is, of course, extremely loth to admit that there existsany such divergence of individual and social interest, or any suchcontradiction in the fundamental American principle. Reformers no lessthan conservatives have been doggedly determined to place some otherinterpretation upon the generally recognized abuses; and theinterpretation on which they have fastened is that some of the victorshave captured too many prizes, because they did not play fair. There isjust enough truth in this interpretation to make it plausible, although, as we have seen, the most flagrant examples of apparent cheating weredue as much to equivocal rules as to any fraudulent intention. Butorthodox public opinion is obliged by the necessities of its ownsituation to exaggerate the truth of its favorite interpretation; andany such exaggeration is attended with grave dangers, precisely becausethe ambiguous nature of the principle itself gives a similar ambiguityto its violations. The cheating is understood as disobedience to theactual law, or as violation of a Higher Law, according to the interestsand preconceptions of the different reformers; but however it isunderstood, they believe themselves to be upholding some kind of a Law, and hence endowed with some kind of a sacred mission. 

Thus the want of integrity in what is supposed to be the formativeprinciple of democracy results, as it did before the Civil War, in adivision of the actual substance of the nation. Men naturally disposedto be indignant at people with whom they disagree come to believe thattheir indignation is comparable to that of the Lord. Men naturallydisposed to be envious and suspicious of others more fortunate thanthemselves come to confuse their suspicions with a duty to the society. Demagogues can appeal to the passions aroused by this prevailing senseof unfair play for the purpose of getting themselves elected to officeor for the purpose of passing blundering measures of repression. Thetype of admirable and popular democrat ceases to be a statesman, attempting to bestow unity and health on the body politic by prescribingmore wholesome habits of living. He becomes instead a sublimatedDistrict Attorney, whose duty it is to punish violations both of theactual and the "Higher Law. " Thus he is figured as a kind of an avengingangel; but (as it happens) he is an avenging angel who can find littleto avenge and who has no power of flight. There is an enormousdiscrepancy between the promises of these gentlemen and theirperformances, no matter whether they occupy an executive office, theeditorial chairs of yellow journals, or merely the place of publicprosecutor; and it sometimes happens that public prosecutors who haveplayed the part of avenging angels before election, are, as Mr. WilliamTravers Jerome knows, themselves prosecuted after a few years of officeby their aggrieved constituents. The truth is that these gentlemen areconfronted by a task which is in a large measure impossible, and which, so far as possible, would be either disappointing or dangerous in itsresults. 

Hence it is that continued loyalty to a contradictory principle isdestructive of a wholesome public sentiment and opinion. A wholesomepublic opinion in a democracy is one which keeps a democracy sound andwhole; and it cannot prevail unless the individuals composing itrecognize mutual ties and responsibilities which lie deeper than anydifferences of interest and idea. No formula whose effect on publicopinion is not binding and healing and unifying has any substantialclaim to consideration as the essential and formative democratic idea. Belief in the principle of equal rights does not bind, heal, and unifypublic opinion. Its effect rather is confusing, distracting, and atworst, disintegrating. A democratic political organization has noimmunity from grievances. They are a necessary result of a complicatedand changing industrial and social organism. What is good for onegeneration will often be followed by consequences that spell deprivationfor the next. What is good for one man or one class of men will bringills to other men or classes of men. What is good for the community as awhole may mean temporary loss and a sense of injustice to a minority. All grievances from any cause should receive full expression in ademocracy, but, inasmuch as the righteously discontented must be alwayswith us, the fundamental democratic principle should, above all, counselmutual forbearance and loyalty. The principle of equal rights encouragesmutual suspicion and disloyalty. It tends to attribute individual andsocial ills, for which general moral, economic, and social causes areusually in large measure responsible, to individual wrong-doing; and inthis way it arouses and intensifies that personal and class hatred, which never in any society lies far below the surface. Men who havegrievances are inflamed into anger and resentment. In claiming what theybelieve to be their rights, they are in their own opinion acting onbehalf not merely of their interests, but of an absolute democraticprinciple. Their angry resentment becomes transformed in their own mindsinto righteous indignation; and there may be turned loose upon thecommunity a horde of self-seeking fanatics--like unto those soldiers inthe religious wars who robbed and slaughtered their opponents in theservice of God. 

II

DEMOCRACY AND DISCRIMINATION

The principle of equal rights has always appealed to its more patrioticand sensible adherents as essentially an impartial rule of politicalaction--one that held a perfectly fair balance between the individualand society, and between different and hostile individual and classinterests. But as a fundamental principle of democratic policy it is asambiguous in this respect as it is in other respects. In its traditionalform and expression it has concealed an extremely partial interest undera formal proclamation of impartiality. The political thinker whopopularized it in this country was not concerned fundamentally withharmonizing the essential interest of the individual with the essentialpopular or social interest. Jefferson's political system was intendedfor the benefit only of a special class of individuals, viz. , thoseaverage people who would not be helped by any really formative rule ormethod of discrimination. In practice it has proved to be inimical toindividual liberty, efficiency, and distinction. An insistent demand forequality, even in the form of a demand for equal rights, inevitably hasa negative and limiting effect upon the free and able exercise ofindividual opportunities. From the Jeffersonian point of view democracywould incur a graver danger from a violation of equality than it wouldprofit from a triumphant assertion of individual liberty. Everyopportunity for the edifying exercise of power, on the part either of anindividual, a group of individuals, or the state is by its very naturealso an opportunity for its evil exercise. The political leader whoseofficial power depends upon popular confidence may betray the trust. Thecorporation employing thousands of men and supplying millions of peoplewith some necessary service or commodity may reduce the cost ofproduction only for its own profit. The state may use its greatauthority chiefly for the benefit of special interests. The advocate ofequal rights is preoccupied by these opportunities for the abusiveexercise of power, because from his point of view rights exercised inthe interest of inequality have ceased to be righteous. He distruststhose forms of individual and associated activity which give anyindividual or association substantial advantages over their associates. He becomes suspicious of any kind of individual and social distinctionwith the nature and effects of which he is not completely familiar. 

A democracy of equal rights may tend to encourage certain expressions ofindividual liberty; but they are few in number and limited in scope. Itrejoices in the freedom of its citizens, provided this freedom receivescertain ordinary expressions. It will follow a political leader, likeJefferson or Jackson, with a blind confidence of which a really freedemocracy would not be capable, because such leaders are, or claim to bein every respect, except their prominence, one of the "people. "Distinction of this kind does not separate a leader from the majority. It only ties them together more firmly. It is an acceptable assertion ofindividual liberty, because it is liberty converted by its exercise intoa kind of equality. In the same way the American democracy mostcordially admired for a long time men, who pursued more energeticallyand successfully than their fellows, ordinary business occupations, because they believed that such familiar expressions of individualliberty really tended towards social and industrial homogeneity. Hereinthey were mistaken; but the supposition was made in good faith, and itconstitutes the basis of the Jeffersonian Democrat's illusion inreference to his own interest in liberty. He dislikes or ignoresliberty, only when it looks in the direction of moral and intellectualemancipation. In so far as his influence has prevailed, Americans havebeen encouraged to think those thoughts and to perform those acts whicheverybody else is thinking and performing. 

The effect of a belief in the principle of "equal rights" on freedom is, however, most clearly shown by its attitude toward Democratic politicalorganization and policy. A people jealous of their rights are notsufficiently afraid of special individual efficiency and distinction totake very many precautions against it. They greet it oftener withneglect than with positive coercion. Jeffersonian Democracy is, however, very much afraid of any examples of associated efficiency. Equality ofrights is most in clanger of being violated when the exercise of rightsis associated with power, and any unusual amount of power is usuallyderived from the association of a number of individuals for a commonpurpose. The most dangerous example of such association is not, however, a huge corporation or a labor union; it is the state. The state cannotbe bound hand and foot by the law, as can a corporation, because itnecessarily possesses some powers of legislation; and the power tolegislate inevitably escapes the limitation of the principle of equalrights. The power to legislate implies the power to discriminate; andthe best way consequently for a good democracy of equal rights to avoidthe danger of discrimination will be to organize the state so that itspower for ill will be rigidly restricted. The possible preferentialinterference on the part of a strong and efficient government must bechecked by making the government feeble and devoid of independence. Theless independent and efficient the several departments of the governmentare permitted to become, the less likely that the government as a wholewill use its power for anything but a really popular purpose. 

In the foregoing type of political organization, which has been verymuch favored by the American democracy, the freedom of the officialpolitical leader is sacrificed for the benefit of the supposed freedomof that class of equalized individuals known as the "people, " but by the"people" Jefferson and his followers have never meant all the people orthe people as a whole. They have meant a sort of apotheosizedmajority--the people in so far as they could be generalized and reducedto an average. The interests of this class were conceived as inimical toany discrimination which tended to select peculiarly efficientindividuals or those who were peculiarly capable of social service. Thesystem of equal rights, particularly in its economic and politicalapplication _has_ worked for the benefit of such a class, but rather inits effect upon American intelligence and morals, than in its effectupon American political and economic development. The system, that is, has only partly served the purpose of its founder and his followers, andit has failed because it did not bring with it any machinery adequateeven to its own insipid and barren purposes. Even the meager socialinterest which Jefferson concealed under cover of his demand for equalrights could not be promoted without some effective organ of socialresponsibility; and the Democrats of to-day are obliged, as we haveseen, to invoke the action of the central government to destroy thoseeconomic discriminations which its former inaction had encouraged. Buteven so the traditional democracy still retains its dislike ofcentralized and socialized responsibility. It consents to use themachinery of the government only for a negative or destructive object. Such must always be the case as long as it remains true to itsfundamental principle. That principle defines the social interest merelyin the terms of an indiscriminate individualism--which is the one kindof individualism murderous to both the essential individual and theessential social interest. 

The net result has been that wherever the attempt to discriminate infavor of the average or indiscriminate individual has succeeded, it hassucceeded at the expense of individual liberty, efficiency, anddistinction; but it has more often failed than succeeded. Whenever theexceptional individual has been given any genuine liberty, he hasinevitably conquered. That is the whole meaning of the process ofeconomic and social development traced in certain preceding chapters. The strong and capable men not only conquer, but they seek to perpetuatetheir conquests by occupying all the strategic points in the economicand political battle-field--whereby they obtain certain more or lesspermanent advantages over their fellow-democrats. Thus in so far as theequal rights are freely exercised, they are bound to result ininequalities; and these inequalities are bound to make for their ownperpetuation, and so to provoke still further discrimination. Whereverthe principle has been allowed to mean what it seems to mean, it hasdetermined and encouraged its own violation. The marriage which it issupposed to consecrate between liberty and equality gives birth tounnatural children, whose nature it is to devour one or the other oftheir parents. 

The only way in which the thorough-going adherent of the principle ofequal rights can treat these tendencies to discrimination, when theydevelop, is rigidly to repress them; and this tendency to repression isnow beginning to take possession of those Americans who represent thepure Democratic tradition. They propose to crush out the chief examplesof effective individual and associated action, which their system ofdemocracy has encouraged to develop. They propose frankly to destroy, sofar as possible, the economic organization which has been built up understress of competitive conditions; and by assuming such an attitude theyhave fallen away even from the pretense of impartiality, and have comeout as frankly representative of a class interest. But even to assertthis class interest efficiently they have been obliged to abandon, infact if not in word, their correlative principle of nationalirresponsibility. Whatever the national interest may be, it is not to beasserted by the political practice of non-interference. The hope ofautomatic democratic fulfillment must be abandoned. The nationalgovernment must stop in and discriminate; but it must discriminate, noton behalf of liberty and the special individual, but on behalf ofequality and the average man. 

Thus the Jeffersonian principle of national irresponsibility can nolonger be maintained by those Democrats who sincerely believe that theinequalities of power generated in the American economic and politicalsystem are dangerous to the integrity of the democratic state. To thisextent really sincere followers of Jefferson are obliged to admit thesuperior political wisdom of Hamilton's principle of nationalresponsibility, and once they have made this admission, they haveimplicitly abandoned their contention that the doctrine of equal rightsis a sufficient principle of democratic political action. They haveimplicitly accepted the idea that the public interest is to be asserted, not merely by equalizing individual rights, but by controllingindividuals in the exercise of those rights. The national publicinterest has to be affirmed by positive and aggressive fiction. Thenation has to have a will and a policy as well as the individual; andthis policy can no longer be confined to the merely negative task ofkeeping individual rights from becoming in any way privileged. 

The arduous and responsible political task which a nation in itscollective capacity must seek to perform is that of selecting among thevarious prevailing ways of exercising individual rights those whichcontribute to national perpetuity and integrity. Such selection impliessome interference with the natural course of popular notion; and thatinterference is always costly and may be harmful either to theindividual or the social interest must be frankly admitted. He would bea foolish Hamiltonian who would claim that a state, no matter howefficiently organized and ably managed, will not make serious andperhaps enduring mistakes; but he can answer that inaction andirresponsibility are more costly and dangerous than intelligent andresponsible interference. The practice of non-interference is just asselective in its effects as the practice of state interference. It meansmerely that the nation is willing to accept the results of naturalselection instead of preferring to substitute the results of artificialselection. In one way or another a nation is bound to recognize theresults of selection. The Hamiltonian principle of nationalresponsibility recognizes the inevitability of selection; and since itis inevitable, is not afraid to interfere on behalf of the selection ofthe really fittest. If a selective policy is pursued in good faith andwith sufficient intelligence, the nation will at least be learning fromits mistakes. It should find out gradually the kind and method ofselection, which is most desirable, and how far selection bynon-interference is to be preferred to active selection. 

As a matter of fact the American democracy both in its central and inits local governments has always practiced both methods of selection. The state governments have sedulously indulged in a kind of interferenceconspicuous both for its activity and its inefficiency. The Federalgovernment, on the other hand, has been permitted to interfere very muchless; but even during the palmiest days of national irresponsibility itdid not altogether escape active intervention. A protective tariff is, of course, a plain case of preferential class legislation, and so wasthe original Inter-state Commerce Act. They were designed to substituteartificial preferences for those effected by unregulated individualaction, on the ground that the proposed modification of the naturalcourse of trade would contribute to the general economic prosperity. Noless preferential in purpose are the measures of reform recently enactedby the central government. The amended Inter-state Commerce Law largelyincreases the power of possible discrimination possessed by the FederalCommission. The Pure Food Bill forbids many practices, which have arisenin connection with the manufacture of food products, and discriminatesagainst the perpetrators of such practices. Factory legislation or lawsregulating the hours of labor have a similar meaning and justification. It is not too much to say that substantially all the industriallegislation, demanded by the "people" both here and abroad and passed inthe popular interest, has been based essentially on classdiscrimination. 

The situation which these laws are supposed to meet is always the same. A certain number of individuals enjoy, in the beginning, equalopportunities to perform certain acts; and in the competition resultingthere from some of these individuals or associations obtain advantagesover their competitors, or over their fellow-citizens whom they employor serve. Sometimes these advantages and the practices whereby they areobtained are profitable to a larger number of people than they injure. Sometimes the reverse is true. In either event the state is usuallyasked to interfere by the class whose economic position has beencompromised. It by no means follows that the state should acquiesce inthis demand. In many cases interference may be more costly thanbeneficial. Each case must be considered on its merits. But whether inany particular case the state takes sides or remains impartial, it mostassuredly has a positive function to perform on the promises. If itremains impartial, it simply agrees to abide by the results of naturalselection. If it interferes, it seeks to replace natural with artificialdiscrimination. In both cases it authorizes discriminations which intheir effect violate the doctrine of "equal rights. " Of course, areformer can always claim that any particular measure of reform proposesmerely to restore to the people a "Square Deal"; but that is simply aneasy and thoughtless way of concealing novel purposes under familiarformulas. Any genuine measure of economic or political reform will, ofcourse, give certain individuals better opportunities than those theyhave been recently enjoying, but it will reach this result only bydepriving other individuals of advantages which they have earned. 

Impartiality is the duty of the judge rather than the statesman, of thecourts rather than the government. The state which proposes to draw aring around the conflicting interests of its citizens and interfere onlyon behalf of a fair fight will be obliged to interfere constantly andwill never accomplish its purpose. In economic warfare, the fighting cannever be fair for long, and it is the business of the state to see thatits own friends are victorious. It holds, if you please, itself a handin the game. The several players are playing, not merely with oneanother, but with the political and social bank. The security andperpetuity of the state and of the individual in so far an he is asocial animal, depend upon the victory of the national interest--asrepresented both in the assurance of the national profit and in thedomination of the nation's friends. It is in the position of the bank atMonte Carlo, which does not pretend to play fair, but which franklypromulgates rules advantageous to itself. Considering the percentage inits favor and the length of its purse, it cannot possibly lose. It isnot really gambling; and it does not propose to take any unnecessaryrisks. Neither can a state, democratic or otherwise, which believes inits own purpose. While preserving at times an appearance of impartialityso that its citizens may enjoy for a while a sense of the reality oftheir private game, it must on the whole make the rules in its owninterest. It must help those men to win who are most capable of usingtheir winnings for the benefit of society. 

III

CONSTRUCTIVE DISCRIMINATION

Assuming, then, that a democracy cannot avoid the constant assertion ofnational responsibility for the national welfare, an all-importantquestion remains as to the way in which and the purpose for which thisinterference should be exercised. Should it be exercised on behalf ofindividual liberty? Should it be exercised on behalf of social equality?Is there any way in which it can be exercised on behalf both of libertyand equality?

Hamilton and the constitutional liberals asserted that the state shouldinterfere exclusively on behalf of individual liberty; but Hamilton wasno democrat and was not outlining the policy of a democratic state. Inpoint of fact democracies have never been satisfied with a definition ofdemocratic policy in terms of liberty. Not only have the particularfriends of liberty usually been hostile to democracy, but democraciesboth in idea and behavior have frequently been hostile to liberty; andthey have been justified in distrusting a political régime organizedwholly or even chiefly for its benefit. "La Liberté, " says Mr. EmileFaguet, in the preface to his "Politiques et Moralistes du Dix-NeuvièmeSiècle"--"La Liberté s'oppose à l'Égalité, car La Liberté estaristocratique par essence. La Liberté ne se donne jamais, ne s'octroiejamais; elle se conquiert. Or ne peuvent la conquérir que des groupessociaux qui out su se donne la cohérence, l'organisation et ladiscipline et qui par conséquent, sont des groupes aristocratiques. "The fact that states organized exclusively or largely for the benefitof liberty are essentially aristocratic explains the hostile andsuspicious attitude of democracies towards such a principle of politicalaction. 

Only a comparatively small minority are capable at any one time ofexercising political, economic, and civil liberties in an able, efficient, or thoroughly worthy manner; and a régime wrought for thebenefit of such a minority would become at best a state, in whicheconomic, political, and social power would be very unevenlydistributed--a state like the Orleans Monarchy in France of the"Bourgeoisie" and the "Intellectuals. " Such a state might well give itscitizens fairly good government, as did the Orleans Monarchy; but justin so far as the mass of the people had any will of its own, it couldnot arouse vital popular interest and support; and it could notcontribute, except negatively, to the fund of popular good sense andexperience. The lack of such popular support caused the death of theFrench liberal monarchy; and no such régime can endure, save, as inEngland, by virtue of a somewhat abject popular acquiescence. As long asit does endure, moreover, it tends to undermine the virtue of its ownbeneficiaries. The favored minority, feeling as they do tolerably sureof their position, can scarcely avoid a habit of making it somewhat tooeasy for one another. The political, economic, and intellectual leadersbegin to be selected without any sufficient test of their efficiency. Some sort of a test continues to be required; but the standards whichdetermine it drift into a condition of being narrow, artificial, andlax. Political, intellectual, and social leadership, in order topreserve its vitality needs a feeling of effective responsibility to abody of public opinion as wide, as varied, and as exacting as that ofthe whole community. 

The desirable democratic object, implied in the traditional democraticdemand for equality, consists precisely in that of bestowing a share ofthe responsibility and the benefits, derived from political and economicassociation, upon the whole community. Democracies have assumed and havebeen right in assuming that a proper diffusion of effectiveresponsibility and substantial benefits is the one means whereby acommunity can be supplied with an ultimate and sufficient bond of union. The American democracy has attempted to manufacture a sufficient bondout of the equalization of rights: but such a bond is, as we have seen, either a rope of sand or a link of chains. A similar object must beachieved in some other way; and the ultimate success of democracydepends upon its achievement. 

The fundamental political and social problem of a democracy may besummarized in the following terms. A democracy, like every political andsocial group, is composed of individuals, and must be organized for thebenefit of its constituent members. But the individual has no chance ofeffective personal power except by means of the secure exercise ofcertain personal rights. Such rights, then, must be secured andexercised; yet when they are exercised, their tendency is to divide thecommunity into divergent classes. Even if enjoyed with some equality inthe beginning, they do not continue to be equally enjoyed, but maketowards discriminations advantageous to a minority. The state, asrepresenting the common interest, is obliged to admit the inevitabilityof such classifications and divisions, and has itself no alternative butto exercise a decisive preference on behalf of one side or the other. Awell-governed state will use its power to promote edifying and desirablediscriminations. But if discriminations tend to divide the community, and the state itself cannot do more than select among the variouspossible cases of discrimination those which it has some reason toprefer, how is the solidarity of the community to be preserved? Andabove all, how is a democratic community, which necessarily includeseverybody in its benefits and responsibilities, to be kept well united?Such a community must retain an ultimate bond of union which counteractsthe divergent effect of the discriminations, yet which at the same timeis not fundamentally hostile to individual liberties. 

The clew to the best available solution of the problem is supplied by aconsideration of the precise manner, in which the advantages derivedfrom the efficient exercise of liberties become inimical to a wholesomesocial condition. The hostility depends, not upon the existence of suchadvantageous discriminations for a time, but upon their persistence fortoo long a time. When, either from natural or artificial causes, theyare properly selected, they contribute at the time of their selectionboth to individual and to social efficiency. They have been earned, andit is both just and edifying that, in so far as they have been earned, they should be freely enjoyed. On the other hand, they should not, sofar as possible, be allowed to outlast their own utility. They mustcontinue to be earned. It is power and opportunity enjoyed without beingearned which help to damage the individual--both the individuals whobenefit and the individuals who consent--and which tend to loosen theultimate social bond. A democracy, no less than a monarchy or anaristocracy, must recognize political, economic, and socialdiscriminations, but it must also manage to withdraw its consentwhenever these discriminations show any tendency to excessive endurance. The essential wholeness of the community depends absolutely on theceaseless creation of a political, economic, and social aristocracy andtheir equally incessant replacement. 

Both in its organization and in its policy a democratic state hasconsequently to seek two different but supplementary objects. It is thefunction of such a state to represent the whole community; and the wholecommunity includes the individual as well as the mass, the many as wellas the few. The individual is merged in the mass, unless he is enabledto exercise efficiently and independently his own private and specialpurposes. He must not only be permitted, he must be encouraged to earndistinction; and the best way in which he can be encouraged to earndistinction is to reward distinction both by abundant opportunity andcordial appreciation. Individual distinction, resulting from theefficient performance of special work, is not only the foundation of allgenuine individuality, but is usually of the utmost social value. In sofar as it is efficient, it has a tendency to be constructive. It bothinserts some member into the social edifice which forms for the timebeing a desirable part of the whole structure, but it tends to establisha standard of achievement which may well form a permanent contributionto social amelioration. It is useful to the whole community, not becauseit is derived from popular sources or conforms to popular standards, butbecause it is formative and so helps to convert the community into awell-formed whole. 

Distinction, however, even when it is earned, always has a tendency toremain satisfied with its achievements, and to seek indefinitely its ownperpetuation. When such a course is pursued by an efficient anddistinguished individual, he is, of course, faithless to the meaning andthe source of his own individual power. In abandoning and replacing hima democracy is not recreant to the principle of individual liberty. Itis merely subjecting individual liberty to conditions which promote anddetermine its continued efficiency. Such conditions never have been andnever will be imposed for long by individuals or classes of individualsupon themselves. They must be imposed by the community, and nothing lessthan the whole community. The efficient exercise of individual power isnecessary to form a community and make it whole, but the duty of keepingit whole rests with the community itself. It must consciously andresolutely preserve the social benefit, derived from the achievements ofits favorite sons; and the most effective means thereto is that ofdenying to favoritism of all kinds the opportunity of becoming a merehabit. 

The specific means whereby this necessary and formative favoritism canbe prevented from becoming a mere habit vary radically among thedifferent fields of personal activity. In the field of intellectual workthe conditions imposed upon the individual must for the most part be thecreation of public opinion; and in its proper place this aspect of therelation between individuality and democracy will receive specialconsideration. In the present connection, however, the relation ofindividual liberty to democratic organization and policy can beillustrated and explained most helpfully by a consideration of thebinding and formative conditions of political and economic liberty. Democracies have always been chiefly preoccupied with the problemsraised by the exercise of political and economic opportunities, becausesuccess in politics and business implies the control of a great deal ofphysical power and the consequent possession by the victors in apeculiar degree of both the motive and the means to perpetuate theirvictory. 

The particular friends of freedom, such as Hamilton and the French"doctrinaires, " have always believed that both civil and politicalliberty depended on the denial of popular Sovereignty and the rigidlimitation of the suffrage. Of course, a democrat cannot accept such aconclusion. He should doubtless admit that the possession of absoluteSovereign power is always liable to abuse; and if he is candid, he canhardly fail to add that democratic favoritism is subject to the sameweakness as aristocratic or royal favoritism. It tends, that is, to makeindividuals seek distinction not by high individual efficiency, but bycompromises in the interest of useful popularity. It would be vain todeny the gravity of this danger or the extent to which, in the best ofdemocracies, the seekers after all kinds of distinction have beenhypnotized by an express desire for popularity. But American statesmenhave not always been obliged to choose between Hamilton's unpopularintegrity and Henry Clay's unprincipled bidding for popular favor. Thegreatest American political leaders have been popular without anypersonal capitulation; and their success is indicative of what istheoretically the most wholesome relation between individual politicalliberty and a democratic distribution of effective political power. Thehighest and most profitable individual political distinction is thatwhich is won from a large field and from a whole people. Political, evenmore than other kinds of distinction, should not be the fruit of alimited area of selection. It must be open to everybody, and it must beacceptable to the community as a whole. In fact, the concession ofsubstantially equal political rights is an absolute condition of anyfundamental political bond. Grave as are the dangers which a democraticpolitical system incurs, still graver ones are incurred by a rigidlylimited electoral organization. A community, so organized, betrays afundamental lack of confidence in the mutual loyalty and good faith ofits members, and such a community can remain well united only at thecost of a mixture of patronage and servility. 

The limitation of the suffrage to those who are individually capable ofmaking the best use of it has the appearance of being reasonable; and ithas made a strong appeal to those statesmen and thinkers who believed inthe political leadership of intelligent and educated men. Neither can itbe denied that a rigidly restricted suffrage might well make in thebeginning for administrative efficiency and good government. But it mustnever be forgotten that a limited suffrage confines ultimate politicalresponsibility, not only to a number of peculiarly competentindividuals, but to a larger or smaller class; and in the long run aclass is never to be trusted to govern in the interest of the wholecommunity. A democracy should encourage the political leadership ofexperienced, educated, and well-trained men, but only on the expresscondition that their power is delegated and is to be used, under severepenalties, for the benefit of the people as a whole. A limited suffragesecures governmental efficiency, if at all, at the expense of thepolitical education and training of the disfranchised class, and at theexpense, also, of a permanent and radical popular political grievance. Asubstantially universal suffrage merely places the ultimate politicalresponsibility in the hands of those for whose benefit governments arecreated; and its denial can be justified only on the ground that thewhole community is incapable of exercising the responsibility. Suchcases unquestionably exist. They exist wherever the individualsconstituting a community, as at present in the South, are more dividedby social or class ambitions and prejudices than they are united by atradition of common action and mutual loyalty. But wherever the wholepeople are capable of thinking, feeling, and acting as if theyconstituted a whole, universal suffrage, even if it costs something intemporary efficiency, has a tendency to be more salutary and moreformative than a restricted suffrage. 

The substantially equal political rights enjoyed by the American peoplefor so many generations have not proved dangerous to the civil libertiesof the individual and, except to a limited extent, not to his politicalliberty. Of course, the American democracy has been absolutely opposedto the delegation to individuals of official political power, exceptunder rigid conditions both as to scope and duration; and the particularfriends of liberty have always claimed that such rigid conditionsdestroyed individual political independence and freedom. Hamilton, forinstance, was insistent upon the necessity of an upper house consistingof life-members who would not be dependent on popular favor for theirretention of office. But such proposals have no chance of prevailing ina sensible democracy. A democracy is justified in refusing to bestowpermanent political power upon individuals, because such permanenttenure of office relaxes oftener than it stimulates the efficiency ofthe favored individual, and makes him attach excessive importance tomere independence. The official leaders of a democracy should, indeed, hold their offices under conditions which will enable them to act andthink independently; but independence is really valuable only when theofficeholder has won it from his own followers. Under any otherconditions it is not only peculiarly liable to abuse, but it deprivesthe whole people of that ultimate responsibility for their own welfare, without which democracy is meaningless. A democracy is or should beconstantly delegating an effective share in this responsibility to itsofficial leaders, but only on condition that the power andresponsibility delegated is partial and is periodically resumed. 

The only Americans who hold important official positions for life arethe judges of the Federal courts. Radical democrats have alwaysprotested against this exception, which, nevertheless, can be permittedwithout any infringement of democratic principles. The peculiar positionof the Federal judge is symptomatic of the peculiar importance in theAmerican system of the Federal Constitution. A senator would be lesslikely to be an efficient and public-spirited legislator, in case hewere not obliged at regular intervals to prove title to his distinction. A justice of the Supreme Court, on the other hand, can the betterperform his special task, provided he has a firm and permanent hold uponhis office. He cannot, to be sure, entirely escape responsibility topublic opinion, but his primary duty is to expound the Constitution ashe understands it; and it is a duty which demands the utmost personalindependence. The fault with the American system in this respectconsists not in the independence of the Federal judiciary, but in thepractical immutability of the Constitution. If the instrument which theSupreme Court expounds could be altered whenever a sufficiently largebody of public opinion has demanded a change for a sufficiently longtime, the American democracy would have much more to gain than to fearfrom the independence of the Federal judiciary. 

The interest of individual liberty in relation to the organization ofdemocracy demands simply that the individual officeholder should possessan amount of power and independence adequate to the efficientperformance of his work. The work of a justice of the Supreme Courtdemands a power that is absolute for its own special work, and itdemands technically complete independence. An executive should, as arule, serve for a longer term, and hold a position of greaterindependence than a legislator, because his work of enforcing the lawsand attending to the business details of government demands continuity, complete responsibility within its own sphere, and the necessityoccasionally of braving adverse currents of public opinion. The term ofservice and the technical independence of a legislator might well bemore restricted than that of an executive; but even a legislator shouldbe granted as much power and independence as he may need for theofficial performance of his public duty. The American democracy hasshown its enmity to individual political liberty, not because it hasrequired its political favorites constantly to seek reëlection, butbecause it has since 1800 tended to refuse to its favorites during theirofficial term as much power and independence as is needed foradministrative, legislative, and judicial efficiency. It has beenjealous of the power it delegated, and has tried to take away with onehand what it gave with the other. 

Taking American political traditions, ideals, institutions, andpractices as a whole, there is no reason to believe that the Americandemocracy cannot and will not combine sufficient opportunities forindividual political distinction with an effective ultimate popularpolitical responsibility. The manner in which the combination has beenmade hitherto is far from flawless, and the American democracy has muchto learn before it reaches an organization adequate to its own properpurposes. It must learn, above all, that the state, and the individualswho are temporarily responsible for the action of the state, must begranted all the power necessary to redeem that responsibility. Individual opportunity and social welfare both depend upon the learningof this lesson; and while it is still very far from being learned, theobstacles in the way are not of a disheartening nature. 

With the economic liberty of the individual the case is different. TheFederalists refrained from protecting individual political rights byincorporating in the Constitution any limitation of the suffrage; butthey sought to protect the property rights of the individual by the mostabsolute constitutional guarantees. Moreover, American practice hasallowed the individual a far larger measure of economic liberty than isrequired by the Constitution; and this liberty was granted in theexpectation that it would benefit, not the individual as such, but thegreat mass of the American people. It has undoubtedly benefited thegreat mass of the American people; but it has been of far more benefitto a comparatively few individuals. Americans are just beginning tolearn that the great freedom which the individual property-owner hasenjoyed is having the inevitable result of all unrestrained exercise offreedom. It has tended to create a powerful but limited class whosechief object it is to hold and to increase the power which they havegained; and this unexpected result has presented the American democracywith the most difficult and radical of its problems. Is it to theinterest of the American people as a democracy to permit the increase orthe perpetuation of the power gained by this aristocracy of money?

A candid consideration of the foregoing question will, I believe, resultin a negative answer. A democracy has as much interest in regulating forits own benefit the distribution of economic power as it has thedistribution of political power, and the consequences of ignoring thisinterest would be as fatal in one case as in the other. In bothinstances regulation in the democratic interest is as far as possiblefrom meaning the annihilation of individual liberty; but in bothinstances individual liberty should be subjected to conditions whichwill continue to keep it efficient and generally serviceable. Individualeconomic power is not any more dangerous than individual politicalpower--provided it is not held too absolutely and for too long a time. But in both cases the interest of the community as a whole should bedominant; and the interest of the whole community demands a considerableconcentration of economic power and responsibility, but only for theultimate purpose of its more efficient exercise and the betterdistribution of its fruits. 

That certain existing American fortunes have in their making been of theutmost benefit to the whole economic organism is to my mindunquestionably the fact. Men like Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan, Mr. AndrewCarnegie, Mr. James J. Hill, and Mr. Edward Harriman have in the courseof their business careers contributed enormously to American economicefficiency. They have been overpaid for their services, but that isirrelevant to the question immediately under consideration. It issufficient that their economic power has been just as much earned bysubstantial service as was the political power of a man like AndrewJackson; and if our country is to continue its prosperous economiccareer, it must retain an economic organization which will offer to menof this stamp the opportunity and the inducement to earn distinction. The rule which has already been applied to the case of political powerapplies, also, to economic power. Individuals should enjoy as muchfreedom from restraint, as much opportunity, and as much responsibilityas is necessary for the efficient performance of their work. Opinionswill differ as to the extent of this desirable independence and itsassociated responsibility. The American millionaire and his supportersclaim, of course, that any diminution of opportunity and independencewould be fatal. To dispute this inference, however, does not involve theabandonment of the rule itself. A democratic economic system, even morethan a democratic political system, must delegate a large share ofresponsibility and power to the individual, but under conditions, ifpossible, which will really make for individual efficiency anddistinction. 

The grievance which a democrat may feel towards the existing economicsystem is that it makes only partially for genuine individual economicefficiency and distinction. The political power enjoyed by an individualAmerican rarely endures long enough to survive its own utility. Buteconomic power can in some measure at least be detached from itscreator. Let it be admitted that the man who accumulates $50, 000, 000 inpart earns it, but how about the man who inherits it? The inheritor ofsuch a fortune, like the inheritor of a ducal title, has an opportunitythrust upon him. He succeeds to a colossal economic privilege which hehas not earned and for which he may be wholly incompetent. He rarelyinherits with the money the individual ability possessed by its maker, but he does inherit a "money power" wholly independent of his ownqualifications or deserts. By virtue of that power alone he is in aposition in some measure to exploit his fellow-countrymen. Even though aman of very inferior intellectual and moral caliber, he is able vastlyto increase his fortune through the information and opportunity whichthat fortune bestows upon him, and without making any individualcontribution to the economic organization of the country. His powerbrings with it no personal dignity or efficiency; and for the wholematerial and meaning of his life he becomes as much dependent upon hismillions as a nobleman upon his title. The money which was a source ofdistinction to its creator becomes in the course of time a source ofindividual demoralization to its inheritor. His life is organized forthe purpose of spending a larger income than any private individual canreally need; and his intellectual point of view is bounded by his narrowexperience and his class interests. 

No doubt the institution of private property, necessitating, as it does, the transmission to one person of the possessions and earnings ofanother, always involves the inheritance of unearned power andopportunity. But the point is that in the case of very large fortunesthe inherited power goes far beyond any legitimate individual needs, andin the course of time can hardly fail to corrupt its possessors. Thecreator of a large fortune may well be its master; but its inheritorwill, except in the case of exceptionally able individuals, become itsvictim, and most assuredly the evil social effects are as bad as theevil individual effects. The political bond which a democracy seeks tocreate depends for its higher value upon an effective social bond. Grossinequalities in wealth, wholly divorced from economic efficiency on thepart of the rich, as effectively loosen the social bond as do grossinequalities of political and social standing. A wholesome socialcondition in a democracy does not imply uniformity of wealth any morethan it implies uniformity of ability and purpose, but it does imply theassociation of great individual economic distinction with responsibilityand efficiency. It does imply that economic leaders, no less thanpolitical ones, should have conditions imposed upon them which willforce them to recognize the responsibilities attached to so much power. Mutual association and confidence between the leaders and followers isas much a part of democratic economic organization as it is ofdemocratic political organization; and in the long run the inheritanceof vast fortunes destroys any such relation. They breed class envy onone side, and class contempt on the other; and the community is eitherdivided irremediably by differences of interest and outlook, or united, if at all, by snobbish servility. 

If the integrity of a democracy is injured by the perpetuation ofunearned economic distinctions, it is also injured by extreme poverty, whether deserved or not. A democracy which attempted to equalize wealthwould incur the same disastrous fate as a democracy which attempted toequalize political power; but a democracy can no more be indifferent tothe distribution of wealth than it can to the distribution of thesuffrage. In a wholesome democracy every male adult should participatein the ultimate political responsibility, partly because of thepolitical danger of refusing participation to the people, and partlybecause of the advantages to be derived from the political union of thewhole people. So a wholesome democracy should seek to guarantee to everymale adult a certain minimum of economic power and responsibility. Nodoubt it is much easier to confer the suffrage on the people than it isto make poverty a negligible social factor; but the difficulty of thetask does not make it the less necessary. It stands to reason that inthe long run the people who possess the political power will want asubstantial share of the economic fruits. A prudent democracy shouldanticipate this demand. Not only does any considerable amount ofgrinding poverty constitute a grave social danger in a democratic state, but so, in general, does a widespread condition of partial economicprivation. The individuals constituting a democracy lack the firstessential of individual freedom when they cannot escape from a conditionof economic dependence. 

The American democracy has confidently believed in the fatal prosperityenjoyed by the people under the American system. In the confidence ofthat belief it has promised to Americans a substantial satisfaction oftheir economic needs; and it has made that promise an essential part ofthe American national idea. The promise has been measurably fulfilledhitherto, because the prodigious natural resources of a new continentwere thrown open to anybody with the energy to appropriate them. Butthose natural resources have now in large measure passed into thepossession of individuals, and American statesmen can no longer countupon them to satisfy the popular hunger for economic independence. Anever larger proportion of the total population of the country is takingto industrial occupations, and an industrial system brings with it muchmore definite social and economic classes, and a diminution of theearlier social homogeneity. The contemporary wage-earner is no longersatisfied with the economic results of being merely an American citizen. His union is usually of more obvious use to him than the state, and heis tending to make his allegiance to his union paramount to hisallegiance to the state. This is only one of many illustrations that thetraditional American system has broken down. The American state canregain the loyal adhesion of the economically less independent classonly by positive service. What the wage-earner needs, and what it is tothe interest of a democratic state he should obtain, is a constantlyhigher standard of living. The state can help him to conquer a higherstandard of living without doing any necessary injury to his employersand with a positive benefit to general economic and social efficiency. If it is to earn the loyalty of the wage-earners, it must recognize thelegitimacy of his demand, and make the satisfaction of it an essentialpart of its public policy. 

The American state is dedicated to such a duty, not only by itsdemocratic purpose, but by its national tradition. So far as the formeris concerned, it is absurd and fatal to ask a popular majority torespect the rights of a minority, when those rights are interpreted soas seriously to hamper, if not to forbid, the majority from obtainingthe essential condition of individual freedom and development--viz. Thehighest possible standard of living. But this absurdity becomes reallycritical and dangerous, in view of the fact that the American people, particularly those of alien birth and descent, have been explicitlypromised economic freedom and prosperity. The promise was made on thestrength of what was believed to be an inexhaustible store of naturalopportunities; and it will have to be kept even when those naturalresources are no longer to be had for the asking. It is entirelypossible, of course, that the promise can never be kept, --that itsredemption will prove to be beyond the patience, the power, and thewisdom of the American people and their leaders; but if it is not kept, the American commonwealth will no longer continue to be a democracy. 

IV

THE BRIDGE BETWEEN DEMOCRACY AND NATIONALITY

We are now prepared, I hope, to venture upon a more fruitful definitionof democracy. The popular definitions err in describing it in terms ofits machinery or of some partial political or economic object. Democracydoes not mean merely government by the people, or majority rule, oruniversal suffrage. All of these political forms or devices are a partof its necessary organization; but the chief advantage such methods oforganization have is their tendency to promote some salutary andformative purpose. The really formative purpose is not exclusively amatter of individual liberty, although it must give individual libertyabundant scope. Neither is it a matter of equal rights alone, althoughit must always cherish the social bond which that principle represents. The salutary and formative democratic purpose consists in using thedemocratic organization for the joint benefit of individual distinctionand social improvement. 

To define the really democratic organization as one which makesexpressly and intentionally for individual distinction and socialimprovement is nothing more than a translation of the statement thatsuch an organization should make expressly and intentionally for thewelfare of the whole people. The whole people will always consist ofindividuals, constituting small classes, who demand specialopportunities, and the mass of the population who demand for theirimprovement more generalized opportunities. At any particular time or inany particular case, the improvement of the smaller classes may conflictwith that of the larger class, but the conflict becomes permanent andirreconcilable only when it is intensified by the lack of a reallybinding and edifying public policy, and by the consequent stimulation ofclass and factional prejudices and purposes. A policy, intelligentlyinformed by the desire to maintain a joint process of individual andsocial amelioration, should be able to keep a democracy sound and wholeboth in sentiment and in idea. Such a democracy would not be dedicatedeither to liberty or to equality in their abstract expressions, but toliberty and equality, in so far as they made for human brotherhood. AsM. Faguet says in the introduction to his "Politiques et Moralistes duDix-Neuvième Siècle, " from which I have already quoted: "Liberté etÉgalité sont donc contradictoires et exclusives l'une et l'autre; maisla Fraternité les concilierait. La Fraternité non seulement concilieraitla Liberté et l'Égalité, mais elle les ferait gêneratrices l'une etl'autre. " The two subordinate principles, that is, one representing theindividual and the other the social interest, can by their subordinationto the principle of human brotherhood, be made in the long run mutuallyhelpful. 

The foregoing definition of the democratic purpose is the only one whichcan entitle democracy to an essential superiority to other forms ofpolitical organization. Democrats have always tended to claim some suchsuperiority for their methods and purposes, but in case democracy is tobe considered merely as a piece of political machinery, or a partialpolitical idea, the claim has no validity. Its superiority must be basedupon the fact that democracy is the best possible translation intopolitical and social terms of an authoritative and comprehensive moralidea; and provided a democratic state honestly seeks to make itsorganization and policy contribute to a better quality of individualityand a higher level of associated life, it can within certain limitsclaim the allegiance of mankind on rational moral grounds. 

The proposed definition may seem to be both vague and commonplace; butit none the less brings with it practical consequences of paramountimportance. The subordination of the machinery of democracy to itspurpose and the comprehension within that purpose of the higherinterests both of the individual and society, is not only exclusive ofmany partial and erroneous ideas, but demands both a reconstructiveprogramme and an efficient organization. A government by the people, which seeks an organization and a policy beneficial to the individualand to society, is confronted by a task as responsible and difficult asyou please; but it is a specific task which demands the adoption ofcertain specific and positive means. Moreover it is a task which theAmerican democracy has never sought consciously to achieve. Americandemocrats have always hoped for individual and social amelioration asthe result of the operation of their democratic system; but if any suchresult was to follow, its achievement was to be a happy accident. Theorganization and policy of a democracy should leave the individual andsociety to seek their own amelioration. The democratic state shouldnever discriminate in favor of anything or anybody. It should onlydiscriminate against all sorts of privilege. Under the proposeddefinition, on the other hand, popular government is to make itselfexpressly and permanently responsible for the amelioration of theindividual and society; and a necessary consequence of thisresponsibility is an adequate organization and a reconstructive policy. 

The majority of good Americans will doubtless consider that thereconstructive policy, already indicated, is flagrantly socialistic bothin its methods and its objects; and if any critic likes to fasten thestigma of socialism upon the foregoing conception of democracy, I am notconcerned with dodging the odium of the word. The proposed definition ofdemocracy is socialistic, if it is socialistic to consider democracyinseparable from a candid, patient, and courageous attempt to advancethe social problem towards a satisfactory solution. It is alsosocialistic in case socialism cannot be divorced from the use, wherevernecessary, of the political organization in all its forms to realize theproposed democratic purpose. On the other hand, there are some doctrinesfrequently associated with socialism, to which the proposed conceptionof democracy is wholly inimical; and it should be characterized not somuch socialistic, as unscrupulously and loyally nationalistic. 

A democracy dedicated to individual and social betterment is necessarilyindividualist as well as socialist. It has little interest in the meremultiplication of average individuals, except in so far as suchmultiplication is necessary to economic and political efficiency; but ithas the deepest interest in the development of a higher quality ofindividual self-expression. There are two indispensable economicconditions of qualitative individual self-expression. One is thepreservation of the institution of private property in some form, andthe other is the radical transformation of its existing nature andinfluence. A democracy certainly cannot fulfill its mission without theeventual assumption by the state of many functions now performed byindividuals, and without becoming expressly responsible for an improveddistribution of wealth; but if any attempt is made to accomplish theseresults by violent means, it will most assuredly prove to be a failure. An improvement in the distribution of wealth or in economic efficiencywhich cannot be accomplished by purchase on the part of the state or bya legitimate use of the power of taxation, must be left to the action oftime, assisted, of course, by such arrangements as are immediatelypractical. But the amount of actual good to the individual and societywhich can be effected _at any one time_ by an alteration in thedistribution of wealth is extremely small; and the same statement istrue of any proposed state action in the interest of the democraticpurpose. Consequently, while responsible state action is an essentialcondition of any steady approach to the democratic consummation, suchaction will be wholly vain unless accompanied by a larger measure ofspontaneous individual amelioration. In fact, one of the strongestarguments on behalf of a higher and larger conception of stateresponsibilities in a democracy is that the candid, courageous, patient, and intelligent attempt to redeem those responsibilities provides one ofthe highest types of individuality--viz. The public-spirited man with apersonal opportunity and a task which should be enormously stimulatingand edifying. 

The great weakness of the most popular form of socialism consists, however, in its mixture of a revolutionary purpose with an internationalscope. It seeks the abolition of national distinctions by revolutionaryrevolts of the wage-earner against the capitalist; and in so far as itproposes to undermine the principle of national cohesion and tosubstitute for it an international organization of a single class, it isheaded absolutely in the wrong direction. Revolutions may at times benecessary and on the whole helpful, but not in case there is any otherpracticable method of removing grave obstacles to human amelioration;and in any event their tendency is socially disintegrating. Thedestruction or the weakening of nationalities for the ostensible benefitof an international socialism would in truth gravely imperil the bondupon which actual human association is based. The peoples who haveinherited any share in Christian civilization are effectively unitedchiefly by national habits, traditions, and purposes; and perhaps themost effective way of bringing about an irretrievable division ofpurpose among them would be the adoption by the class of wage-earnersof the programme of international socialism. It is not too much to saythat no permanent good can, under existing conditions, come to theindividual and society except through the preservation and thedevelopment of the existing system of nationalized states. 

Radical and enthusiastic democrats have usually failed to attachsufficient importance to the ties whereby civilized men are at thepresent time actually united. Inasmuch as national traditions areusually associated with all sorts of political, economic, and socialprivileges and abuses, they have sought to identify the higher socialrelation with the destruction of the national tradition and thesubstitution of an ideal bond. In so doing they are committing adisastrous error; and democracy will never become really constructiveuntil this error is recognized and democracy abandons its formeralliance with revolution. The higher human relation must be broughtabout chiefly by the improvement and the intensification of existinghuman relations. The only possible foundation for a better socialstructure is the existing order, of which the contemporary system ofnationalized states forms the foundation. 

Loyalty to the existing system of nationalized states does notnecessarily mean loyalty to an existing government merely because itexists. There have been, and still are, governments whose ruin is anecessary condition of popular liberation; and revolution doubtlessstill has a subordinate part to play in the process of humanamelioration. The loyalty which a citizen owes to a government isdependent upon the extent to which the government is representative ofnational traditions and is organized in the interest of valid nationalpurposes. National traditions and purposes always contain a largeinfusion of dubious ingredients; but loyalty to them does notnecessarily mean the uncritical and unprotesting acceptance of thenational limitations and abuses. Nationality is a political and socialideal as well as the great contemporary political fact. Loyalty to thenational interest implies devotion to a progressive principle. Itdemands, to be sure, that the progressive principle be realized withoutany violation of fundamental national ties. It demands that any nationalaction taken for the benefit of the progressive principle be approvedby the official national organization. But it also serves as a fermentquite as much as a bond. It bids the loyal national servants to fashiontheir fellow-countrymen into more of a nation; and the attempt toperform this bidding constitutes a very powerful and wholesome source ofpolitical development. It constitutes, indeed, a source of politicaldevelopment which is of decisive importance for a satisfactory theory ofpolitical and social progress, because a people which becomes more of anation has a tendency to become for that very reason more of ademocracy. 

The assertion that a people which becomes more of a nation becomes forthat very reason more of a democracy, is, I am aware, a hazardousassertion, which can be justified, if at all, only at a considerableexpense. As a matter of fact, the two following chapters will be devotedchiefly to this labor of justification. In the first of these chapters Ishall give a partly historical and partly critical account of thenational principle in its relation to democracy; and in the second Ishall apply the results, so achieved, to the American national principlein its relation to the American democratic idea. But before startingthis complicated task, a few words must be premised as to the reasonswhich make the attempt well worth the trouble. 

If a people, in becoming more of a nation, become for that very reasonmore of a democracy, the realization of the democratic purpose is notrendered any easier, but democracy is provided with a simplified, aconsistent, and a practicable programme. An alliance is establishedthereby between the two dominant political and social forces in modernlife. The suspicion with which aggressive advocates of the nationalprinciple have sometimes regarded democracy would be shown to have onlya conditional justification; and the suspicion with which many ardentdemocrats have regarded aggressive nationalism would be similarlydisarmed. A democrat, so far as the statement is true, could trust thefate of his cause in each particular state to the friends of nationalprogress. Democracy would not need for its consummation the ruin of thetraditional political fabrics; but so far as those political bodies wereinformed by genuinely national ideas and aspirations, it could awaitconfidently the process of national development. In fact, the first dutyof a good democrat would be that of rendering to his country loyalpatriotic service. Democrats would abandon the task of making over theworld to suit their own purposes, until they had come to a betterunderstanding with their own countrymen. One's democracy, that is, wouldbegin at home and it would for the most part stay at home; and the causeof national well-being would derive invaluable assistance from the loyalcoöperation of good democrats. 

A great many obvious objections will, of course, be immediately raisedagainst any such explanation of the relation between democracy andnationality; and I am well aware that these objections demand the mostserious consideration. A generation or two ago the European democrat wasoften by way of being an ardent nationalist; and a constructive relationbetween the two principles was accepted by many European politicalreformers. The events of the last fifty years have, however, done muchto sever the alliance, and to make European patriots suspicious ofdemocracy, and European democrats suspicious of patriotism. To whatextent these suspicions are justified, I shall discuss in the nextchapter; but that discussion will be undertaken almost exclusively forobtaining, if possible, some light upon our domestic situation. Theformula of a constructive relation between the national and democraticprinciples has certain importance for European peoples, and particularlyfor Frenchmen: but, if true, it is of a far superior importance toAmericans. It supplies a constructive form for the progressive solutionof their political and social problems; and while it imposes on themresponsibilities which they have sought to evade, it also offerscompensations, the advantage of which they have scarcely expected. 

Americans have always been both patriotic and democratic, just as theyhave always been friendly both to liberty and equality, but in neithercase have they brought the two ideas or aspirations into mutuallyhelpful relations. As democrats they have often regarded nationalismwith distrust, and have consequently deprived their patriotism of anysufficient substance and organization. As nationalists they havefrequently regarded essential aspects of democracy with a whollyunnecessary and embarrassing suspicion. They have been after a fashionHamiltonian, and Jeffersonian after more of a fashion; but they havenever recovered from the initial disagreement between Hamilton andJefferson. If there is any truth in the idea of a constructive relationbetween democracy and nationality this disagreement must be healed. Theymust accept both principles loyally and unreservedly; and by suchacceptance their "noble national theory" will obtain a whollyunaccustomed energy and integrity. The alliance between the twoprinciples will not leave either of them intact; but it will necessarilydo more harm to the Jeffersonian group of political ideas than it willto the Hamiltonian. The latter's nationalism can be adapted to democracywithout an essential injury to itself, but the former's democracy cannotbe nationalized without being transformed. The manner of itstransformation has already been discussed in detail. It must cease to bea democracy of indiscriminate individualism; and become one of selectedindividuals who are obliged constantly to justify their selection; andits members must be united not by a sense of joint irresponsibility, butby a sense of joint responsibility for the success of their politicaland social ideal. They must become, that is, a democracy devoted to thewelfare of the whole people by means of a conscious labor of individualand social improvement; and that is precisely the sort of democracywhich demands for its realization the aid of the Hamiltoniannationalistic organization and principle. 

CHAPTER VIII

I

NATIONALITY AND DEMOCRACY; NATIONAL ORIGINS

Whatever the contemporary or the logical relation between nationalityand democracy as ideas and as political forces, they were in theirorigin wholly independent one of the other. The Greek city statessupplied the first examples of democracy; but their democracy broughtwith it no specifically national characteristics. In fact, the politicalcondition and ideal implied by the word nation did not exist in theancient world. The actual historical process, which culminated in theformation of the modern national state, began some time in the MiddleAges--a period in which democracy was almost an incredible form ofpolitical association. Some of the mediæval communes were not withouttraces of democracy; but modern nations do not derive from thoseturbulent little states. They derive from the larger political divisionsinto which Europe drifted during the Dark Ages; and they have grown withthe gradually prospering attempt to bestow on the government of theseEuropean countries the qualities of efficiency and responsibility. 

A complete justification of the foregoing statements would require acritical account of the political development of Western Europe since400 B. C. ; but within the necessary limits of the present discussion, weshall have to be satisfied with the barest summary of the way in whichthe modern national states originated, and of the relation to democracywhich has gradually resulted from their own proper development. A greatdeal of misunderstanding exists as to the fundamental nature of anational as compared to a city or to an imperial state, because themeaning of the national idea has been obscured by the controversieswhich its militant assertion has involved. It has been identified bothwith a revolutionary and a racial political principle, whereas itsrevolutionary or racial associations are essentially occasional andaccidental. The modern national state is at bottom the most intelligentand successful attempt which has yet been made to create a comparativelystable, efficient, and responsible type of political association. 

The primary objects sought in political association are internal order, security from foreign attack, the authoritative and just adjustment ofdomestic differences and grievances, and a certain opportunity forindividual development; and these several objects are really reducibleto two, because internal order cannot be preserved among a vigorouspeople, in case no sufficient opportunity is provided for individualdevelopment or for the adjustment of differences and grievances. Inorder that a state may be relatively secure from foreign attack, it mustpossess a certain considerable area, population, and militaryefficiency. The fundamental weakness of the commune or city state hasalways been its inability to protect itself from the aggressions oflarger or more warlike neighbors, and its correlative inability tosettle its own domestic differences without foreign interference. On theother hand, when a state became sufficiently large and well organized tofeel safe against alien aggression, it inevitably became the aggressoritself; and it inevitably carried the conquest of its neighbors just asfar as it was able. But domestic security, which is reached by constantforeign aggression, results inevitably in a huge unwieldy form ofimperial political organization which is obliged by the logic of itssituation to seek universal dominion. The Romans made the great attemptto establish a dominion of this kind; and while their Empire could notendure, because their military organization destroyed in the end thevery foundation of internal order, they bequeathed to civilization apolitical ideal and a legal code of inestimable subsequent value. 

As long as men were obliged to choose between a communal or an imperialtype of political organization, --which was equivalent merely to a choicebetween anarchy and despotism, --the problem of combining internal orderwith external security seemed insoluble. They needed a form ofassociation strong enough to defend their frontiers, but notsufficiently strong to attack their neighbors with any chance ofcontinued success; and such a state could not exist unless its unityand integrity had some moral basis, and unless the aggressions ofexceptionally efficient states were checked by some effectiveinter-state organization. The coexistence of such states demanded in itsturn the general acceptance of certain common moral ties and standardsamong a group of neighboring peoples; and such a tie was furnished bythe religious bond with which Catholic Christianity united the peoplesof Western Europe--a bond whereby the disorder and anarchy of the earlyMiddle Ages was converted into a vehicle of political and socialeducation. The members of the Christian body had much to fear from theirfellow-Christians, but they also had much to gain. They shared manyinteresting and vital subjects of consultation; and even when theyfought, as they usually did, they were likely to fight to some purpose. But beyond their quarrels Catholic Christians comprised one universe ofdiscourse. They were somehow responsible one to another; and theirmutual ties and responsibilities were most clearly demonstrated whenevera peculiarly unscrupulous and insistent attempt was made to violatethem. As new and comparatively strong states began to emerge from theconfusion of the early Middle Ages, it was soon found that under the newconditions states which were vigorous enough to establish internal peaceand to protect their frontiers were not vigorous enough to conquer theirneighbors. Political efficiency was brought to a much better realizationof its necessary limits and responsibilities, because of the moral andintellectual education which the adoption of Christianity had imposedupon the Western peoples. 

One of the earliest examples of political efficiency in mediæval Europewas the England of Edward I, which had begun to exhibit certaincharacteristics of a national state. Order was more than usually wellpreserved. It was sheltered by the Channel from foreign attack. Theinterest both of the nobles and of the people had been considered in itspolitical organization. A fair balance was maintained among the leadingmembers of the political body, so that the English kings could invadeFrance with united national armies which easily defeated the incoherentrabble of knights and serfs whereby they were opposed. Nevertheless, when the English, after the manner of other efficient states, tried toconquer France, they were wholly unable to extinguish Frenchresistance, as the similar resistance of conquered peoples had sofrequently been extinguished in classic times. The French people ralliedto a king who united them in their resistance to foreign domination; andthe ultimate effect of the prolonged English aggression was merely theincreasing national efficiency and the improving political organizationof the French people. 

The English could not extinguish the resistance of the French people, because their aggression aroused in Frenchmen latent power of effectiveassociation. Notwithstanding the prevalence of a factious minority, andthe lack of any habit or tradition of national association, the power ofunited action for a common purpose was stimulated by the threat of aliendomination; and this latent power was unquestionably the result in somemeasure of the discipline of Christian ideas to which the French, incommon with the other European peoples, had been subjected. Thatdiscipline had, as has already been observed, increased men's capacityfor fruitful association one with another. It had stimulated a socialrelationship much superior to the prevailing political relationship. Ithad enabled them to believe in an idea and to fight devotedly on itsbehalf. It is no accident, consequently, that the national resistancetook on a religious character, and in Jeanne d'Arc gave birth to one ofthe most fragrant figures in human history. Thus the French nationalresistance, and the national bond thereby created, was one politicalexpression of the power of coöperation developed in the people of Europeby the acceptance of a common religious bond. On the other hand, the usewhich the English had made of their precocious national organizationweakened its foundations. The aggressive exercise of military forceabroad for an object which it was incompetent to achieve disturbed thedomestic balance of power on which the national organization of theEnglish people rested. English political efficiency was dependent partlyupon its responsible exercise; and it could not survive the disregard ofdomestic responsibilities entailed by the expense in men and money offutile external aggression. 

The history of Europe as it emerged from the Middle Ages affords acontinuous illustration of the truth that the increasing politicalefficiency of the several states was proportioned to the exercise oftheir powers in a responsible manner. The national development of theseveral states was complicated in the beginning by the religious wars;but those peoples suffered least from the wars of religion who did notin the end allow them to interfere with their primary politicalresponsibilities. Spain, for instance, whose centuries of fighting withthe Moors had enormously developed her military efficiency, used thismilitary power solely for the purpose of pursuing political andreligious objects antagonistic or irrelevant to the responsibilities ofthe Spanish kings towards their own subjects. The Spanish monarchyproclaimed as its dominant political object the maintenance by force ofthe Catholic faith throughout Europe; and for three generations itwasted the superb military strength and the economic resources of theSpanish people in an attempt to crush out Protestantism in Holland andEngland and to reinforce militant Catholicism in France. Upon Germany, divided into a number of petty states, partly Protestant, and partlyCatholic, but with the Imperial power exerted on behalf of a Catholicand anti-national interest, the religious wars laid a heavy hand. Herlack of political cohesion made her the prey of neighboring countrieswhose population was numerically smaller, but which were betterorganized; and the end of the Thirty Years' War left her both despoiledand exhausted, because her political organization was wholly incapableof realizing a national policy or of meeting the national needs. GreatBritain during all this period was occupied with her domestic problemsand interfered comparatively little in continental affairs; and theresult of this discreet and sensible effort to adapt her nationalorganization to her peculiar domestic needs was in the eighteenthcentury an extraordinary increase of national efficiency. France alsoemerged from the religious wars headed by a dynasty which reallyrepresented national aspirations, and which was alive in some respectsto its responsibilities toward the French people. The Bourbon monarchyconsolidated the French national organization, encouraged Frenchintellectual and religious life, and at times sought in an intelligentmanner to improve the economic conditions of the country. For the firsttime in the history of continental Europe something resembling agenuinely national state was developed. Differences of religious opinionhad been subordinated to the political and social interests of theFrench people. The crown, with the aid of a succession of ableministers, suppressed a factious nobility at home, and gradually madeFrance the dominant European Power. A condition of the attainment ofboth of these objects was the loyal support of the French people, andthe alliance with the monarchy, as the embodiment of French nationallife, of Frenchmen of ability and purpose. 

The French monarchy, however, after it had become the dominant power inEurope, followed the bad example of previous states, and aroused thefear of its neighbors by a policy of excessive aggression. In thisinstance French domineering did not stimulate the national developmentof any one neighbor, because it was not concentrated upon any one or twopeoples. But it did threaten the common interests of a number ofEuropean states; and it awakened an unprecedented faculty of inter-stateassociation for the protection of these interests. The doctrine of theBalance of Power waxed as the result of this experience into a livingprinciple in European politics; and it imposed an effective check uponthe aggression of any single state. France was unable to retain thepreponderant position which she had earned during the early years of thereign of Louis XIV; and this mistake of the Bourbon monarchy was thecause of its eventual downfall. The finances of the country were wreckedby its military efforts and failures, the industrial development of thepeople checked, and their loyalty to the Bourbons undermined. A gulf wasgradually created between the French nation and its officialorganization and policy. 

England, on the other hand, was successfully pursuing the opposite workof national improvement and consolidation. She was developing a systemof government which, while preserving the crown as the symbol of socialorder, combined aristocratic leadership with some measure of nationalrepresentation. For the first time in centuries the different members ofher political body again began to function harmoniously; and she usedthe increasing power of aggression thereby secured with unprecedenteddiscretion and good sense. She had learned that her military power couldnot be used with any effect across the Channel, and that under existingconditions her national interests in relation to the other EuropeanPowers were more negative than positive. Her expansive energy wasconcentrated on the task of building up a colonial empire in Asia andAmerica; and in this task her comparative freedom from continentalentanglements enabled her completely to vanquish France. Her success increating a colonial empire anticipated with extraordinary precision thecourse during the nineteenth century of European national development. 

In contemplating the political situation of Europe towards the end ofthe eighteenth century the student of the origin of the power andprinciple of nationality will be impressed by its two divergent aspects. The governments of the several European states had become tolerablyefficient for those purposes in relation to which, during the sixteenthcentury and before, efficiency had been most necessary. They could keeporder. Their citizens were protected to some extent in the enjoyment oftheir legal rights. The several governments were closely associatedchiefly for the purpose of preventing excessive aggression on the partof any one state and of preserving the Balance of Power. Unfortunately, however, these governments had acquired during the turbulent era anunlimited authority which was indispensable to the fundamental task ofmaintaining order, but which, after order had been secured, wassufficient to encourage abuse. Their power was in theory absolute. Itwas an imitation of Roman Imperialism, and made no allowance for thoselimitations, both in its domestic and foreign expressions, which existedas a consequence of national growth and the international system. Theirauthority at all times was keyed up to the pitch of a great emergency. It was supposed to be the immediate expression of the common weal. Thecommon weal was identified with the security of society and the state. The security of the state dictated the supreme law. The very authority, consequently, which was created to preserve order and the Balance ofPower gradually became an effective cause of internal and externaldisorder. It became a source not of security, but of individual andsocial insecurity, because a properly organized machinery for exercisingsuch a power and redeeming such a vast responsibility had not as yetbeen wrought. 

The rulers of the continental states in the eighteenth century explainedand excused every important action they took by what was called "LaRaison d'État"--that is, by reasons connected with the public safetywhich justified absolute authority and extreme measures. But as a matterof fact this absolute authority, instead of being confined in itsexercise to matters in which the public safety was really concerned, waswasted and compromised chiefly for the benefit of a trivial domesticpolicy and a merely dynastic foreign policy. At home the exercise ofabsolute authority was not limited to matters and occasions which reallyraised questions of public safety. In their foreign policies themajority of the states had little idea of the necessary and desirablelimits of their own aggressive power. Those limits were imposed fromwithout; and when several states could combine in support of an act ofinternational piracy, as in the case of the partition of Poland, Europecould not be said to have any effective system of public law. Thepartition of Poland, which France could and should have prevented, wasat once a convincing exposure of the miserable international position towhich France had been reduced by the Bourbons, and the best possibletestimony to the final moral bankruptcy of the political system of theeighteenth century. 

II

THE IMPLICATIONS OF NATIONAL DEVELOPMENT

In 1789 the bombshell of the French Revolution exploded under thisfabric of semi-national and semi-despotic, but wholly royalist andaristocratic, European political system. For the first time in thehistory of European nations a national organization and tradition wasconfronted by a radical democratic purpose and faith. The two ideas havebeen face to face ever since; and European history thereafter may, inits broadest aspect, be considered as an attempt to establish a fruitfulrelation between them. In the beginning it looked as if democracy would, so far as it prevailed, be wholly destructive of national institutionsand the existing international organization. The insurgent democratssought to ignore and to eradicate the very substance of French nationalachievement. They began by abolishing all social and economic privilegesand by framing a new polity based in general upon the English idea of alimited monarchy, partial popular representation, and equal civilrights; but, carried along by the momentum of their ideas and incensedby the disloyalty of the king and his advisers and the threat ofinvasion they ended by abolishing royalty, establishing universalsuffrage and declaring war upon every embodiment, whether at home orabroad, of the older order. The revolutionary French democracyproclaimed a creed, not merely subversive of all monarchical andaristocratic institutions, but inimical to the substance and the spiritof nationality. Indeed it did not perceive any essential distinctionbetween the monarchical or legitimist and the national principles; andthe error was under the circumstances not unnatural. In the Europeanpolitical landscape of 1793 despotic royalty was a much more conspicuousfact than the centuries of political association in which thesemonarchies had been developed. But the eyes of the French democrats hadbeen partially blinded by their own political interests and theories. Their democracy was in theory chiefly a matter of abstract politicalrights which remitted logically in a sort of revolutionary anarchy. Theactual bonds whereby men were united were ignored. All traditionalauthority fell under suspicion. Frenchmen, in their devotion to theirideas and in their distrust of every institution, idea, or personassociated with the Old Régime, hacked at the roots of their nationalcohesion and undermined the foundations of social order. 

To a disinterested political philosopher of that day the antagonismbetween the principle of political authority and cohesion, asrepresented by the legitimate monarchies, and the principle of popularSovereignty represented by the French democracy, may well have lookedirretrievable. But events soon proved that such an inference could notbe drawn too quickly. It is true that the French democracy, by breakingso violently the bonds of national association, perpetuated a divisionbetween their political organization and the substance of their nationallife, which was bound in the end to constitute a source of weakness. Yetthe revolutionary democracy succeeded, nevertheless, in releasingsources of national energy, whose existence had never before beensuspected, and in uniting the great body of the French people for theperformance of a great task. Even though French national cohesion hadbeen injured in one respect, French national efficiency was temporarilyso increased that the existing organization and power of the othercontinental countries proved inadequate to resist it. When the Frenchdemocracy was attacked by its monarchical neighbors, the newly arousednational energy of the French people was placed enthusiastically at theservice of the military authorities. The success of the French armies, even during the disorders of the Convention and the corruption of theDirectory, indicated that revolutionary France possessed possibilitiesof national efficiency far superior to the France of the Old Régime. 

Neither the democrats nor Napoleon had, in truth, broken as much as theythemselves and their enemies believed with the French nationaltradition; but unfortunately that aspect of the national traditionperpetuated by them was by no means its best aspect. The policy, themethods of administration, and the actual power of the Committee ofPublic Safety and of Napoleon were all inherited from the Old Régime. Revolutionary France merely adapted to new conditions the politicalorganization and policy to which Frenchmen had been accustomed; and themost serious indictment to be made against it is that its excessesprevented it from dispensing with the absolutism which social disorderand unwarranted foreign aggression always necessitate. The Revolutionmade France more of a nation than it had been in the eighteenth century, because it gave to the French people the civil freedom, the politicalexperience, and the economic opportunities which they needed, but it didnot heal the breach which the Bourbons had made between the politicalorganization of France and its legitimate national interests andaspirations. France in 1815, like France in 1789, remained a nationdivided against itself, --a nation which had perpetuated during ademocratic revolution a part of its national tradition most opposed tothe logic of its new political and social ideas. It remained, that is, anation whose political organization and policy had not been adapted toits domestic needs, and one which occupied on anomalous and suspectedposition in the European international system. 

On the other hand, French democracy and Imperialism had directly andindirectly instigated the greater national efficiency of the neighboringEuropean states. Alliances among European monarchs had not beensufficient to check the Imperial ambitions of Napoleon, as they hadbeen sufficient to check the career of Louis XIV, because behind agreater general was the loyal devotion and the liberated energy of theFrench people; but when outrages perpetrated on the national feelings ofGermans and Spaniards added an enthusiastic popular support to thehatred which the European monarchs cherished towards a domineeringupstart, the fall of Napoleon became only a question of time. The excessand the abuse of French national efficiency and energy, consequent uponits sudden liberation and its perpetuation of an illogical but naturalpolicy of national aggression, had the same effect upon Europe asEnglish aggression had upon the national development of France. Napoleonwas crushed under a popular uprising, comparable to that of the Frenchpeople, which had been the condition of his own aggrandizement. Thus, inspite of the partial antagonism between the ideas of the FrenchRevolutionary democracy and the principle of nationality the ultimateeffect of the Revolution both in France and in Europe was to increasethe force and to enlarge the area of the national movement. Englishnational sentiment was enormously stimulated by the strenuous wars ofthe Revolutionary epoch. The embers of Spanish national feeling wereblown into spasmodic life. The peoples of Italy and Germany had beenpossessed by the momentum of a common political purpose, and had beenstirred by promises of national representation. Even France, unstablethough its political condition was, had lost none of the results of theRevolution for which it had fought in the beginning; and if the Bourbonswere restored, it was only on the implicit condition that the monarchyshould be nationalized. The Revolutionary democracy, subversive as wereits ideas, had started a new era for the European peoples of nationaland international construction. 

Of course, it was by no means obvious in 1815 that a constructivenational and international principle had come to dominate the Europeanpolitical system. The Treaty of Vienna was an unprincipled compromiseamong the divergent interests and claims of the dominant Powers, and thetriumphant monarchs ignored their promises of national reform orrepresentation. For one whole generation they resolutely suppressed, sofar as they were able, every symptom of an insurgent democratic ornational idea. They sought persistently and ingeniously to identify inEurope the principle of political integrity and order with the principleof the legitimate monarchy. But obscurantist as were the ideas and thepolicy of the Holy Alliance, the political system it established was anenormous improvement upon that of the eighteenth century. Not only wasthe sense of responsibility of the governing classes very muchquickened, but the international system was based on a comparativelymoral and rational idea. For the first time in European history a groupof rulers, possessing in theory absolute authority and forming anapparently irresistible combination, exercised this power withmoderation. They did not combine, as in the case of the partition ofPoland, to break the peace and prey upon a defenseless neighbor, but tokeep the peace; and if to keep the peace meant the suppression whereverpossible of liberal political ideas, it meant also the renunciation ofaggressive foreign policies. In this way Europe obtained the rest whichwas necessary after the havoc of the Revolutionary wars, while at thesame time the principle on which the Holy Alliance was based was beingput to the test of experience. Such a test it could not stand. Thepeople of Europe were not content to identify the principle of politicalorder, whether in domestic or foreign affairs, with that of legitimatemonarchy and with the arbitrary political alignments of the Treaty ofVienna. Such a settlement ignored the political forces and ideas which, while originating in Revolutionary France, had none the less savedEurope from the consequences of French Revolutionary and Imperialaggression. 

Beginning in 1848, Europe entered upon another period of revolutionarydisturbance, which completely destroyed the political system of the HolyAlliance. At the outset these revolutions were no more respectful ofnational traditions than was the French Revolution; and as long as theyremained chiefly subversive in idea and purpose, they accomplishedlittle. But after some unsuccessful experimentation, the newrevolutionary movement gradually adopted a national programme; andthereafter, its triumphs were many and varied. For the first time inpolitical history the meaning of the national principle began to beunderstood; and it became in the most explicit manner a substantial anda formative political idea. 

The revolutionary period taught European statesmen and politicalthinkers that political efficiency and responsibility both implied somedegree of popular representation. Such representation did notnecessarily go as far as thorough-going democrats would like. It did notnecessarily transfer the source of political authority from the crown tothe people. It did not necessarily bring with it, as in France, theoverthrow of those political and social institutions which constitutedthe traditional structure of the national life. But it did imply thatthe government should make itself expressly responsible to publicopinion, and should consult public opinion about all important questionsof public policy. A certain amount of political freedom was shown to beindispensable to the making of a nation, and the granting of this amountof political freedom was no more than a fulfillment of the historicalprocess in which the nations of Europe had originated. 

The people of Europe had drifted into groups, the members of which, forone reason or another, were capable of effective political association. This association was not based at bottom on physical conditions. It wasnot dependent on a blood bond, because as a matter of fact the racialcomposition of the European peoples is exceedingly mixed. It was partlyconditioned on geographical continuity without being necessarily causedthereby, and was wholly independent of any uniformity of climate. Theassociation was in the beginning largely a matter of convenience or amatter of habit. Those associations endured which proved under stress ofhistorical vicissitudes to be worthy of endurance. The longer anyparticular association endured, the more firm it became in politicalstructure and the more definite in policy. Its citizens becameaccustomed to association one with another, and they became accustomedto those political and social forms which supplied the machinery ofjoint action. Certain institutions and ideas were selected by thepressure of historical events and were capitalized into the effectivelocal political and social traditions. These traditions constituted thesubstance of the political and social bond. They provided the formswhich enabled the people of any group to realize a joint purpose or, ifnecessary, to discuss serious differences. In their absence the veryfoundation of permanent political cohesion was lacking. For a while theprotection of these groups against domestic and foreign enemiesdemanded, as we have seen, the exercise of an absolute politicalauthority and the severe suppression of any but time-honored individualor class interests; but when comparative order had been secured, ahigher standard of association gradually came to prevail. Differences ofconviction and interest among individuals and classes, which formerlywere suppressed or ignored, could no longer be considered either as sodangerous to public safety as to demand suppression or as soinsignificant as to justify indifference. Effective association began todemand, that is, a new adjustment among the individual and classinterests, traditions, and convictions which constituted the substanceof any particular state; and such an adjustment could be secured only byan adequate machinery of consultation and discussion. Cohesion could nolonger be imposed upon a people, because they no longer had anysufficient reason to submit to the discipline of such an imposition. Ithad to be reached by an enlarged area of political association, by thefull expression of individual and class differences, and finally by theproper adjustment of those differences in relation to the generalinterest of the whole community. 

As soon as any European state attained, by whatever means, arepresentative government, it began to be more of a nation, and toobtain the advantages of a more nationalized political organization. England's comparative domestic security enabled her to become more of anation sooner than any of her continental neighbors; and her nationalefficiency forced the French to cultivate their latent power of nationalassociation. In France the government finally succeeded in becomingnationally representative without much assistance from any regularmachinery of representation; but under such conditions it could notremain representative. One of its defects as a nation to-day is its lackof representative institutions to which Frenchmen have been longaccustomed and which command some instinctive loyalty. Stimulated byFrench and English example, the other European states finally understoodthat some form or degree of popular representation was essential tonational cohesion; and little by little they have been graftingrepresentative institutions upon their traditional political structures. Thus the need of political and social cohesion was converted into aprinciple of constructive national reform. A nation is more or less of anation according as its members are more or less capable of effectiveassociation; and the great object of a genuinely national domesticpolicy is that of making such association candid, loyal, and fruitful. Loyal and fruitful association is far from demanding mere uniformity ofpurpose and conviction on the part of those associated. On the contraryit gains enormously from a wide variety of individual differences, --butwith the essential condition that such differences do not becomefactious in spirit and hostile to the utmost freedom of intercourse. Butthe only way of mitigating factiousness and misunderstanding is by meansof some machinery of mutual consultation, which may help to remedygrievances and whose decision shall determine the political action takenin the name of the whole community. The national principle, that is, which is precisely the principle of loyal and fruitful politicalassociation, depends for its vitality upon the establishment andmaintenance of a constructive relation between the official politicalorganization and policy and the interests, the ideas, and the traditionsof the people as a whole. The nations of Europe, much as they sufferedfrom the French Revolution and disliked it, owe to the insurgent Frenchdemocracy their effective instruction in this political truth. 

It follows, however, that there is no universal and perfect machinerywhereby loyal and fruitful national association can be secured. Thenations of Europe originated in local political groups, each of whichpossessed its own peculiar interests, institutions, and traditions. Their power of fruitful national association depended more upon loyaltyto their particular local political tradition and habits than upon anyideal perfection in their new and experimental machinery fordistributing political responsibility and securing popularrepresentation. A national policy and organization is, consequently, essentially particular; and, what is equally important, its particularcharacter is partly determined by the similarly special character of thepolicy and organization of the surrounding states. The historicalprocess in which each of the European nations originated included, asan essential element, the action and reaction of these particular statesone upon the other. Each nation was formed, that is, as part of apolitical system which included other nations. As any particular statebecame more of a nation, its increasing power of effective associationforced its neighbors either into submission or into an equally efficientexercise of national resistance. Little by little it has been discoveredthat any increase in the loyalty and fertility of a country's domesticlife was contingent upon the attainment of a more definite position inthe general European system; and that, on the other hand, any attempt toescape from the limitations imposed upon a particular state by thegeneral system was followed by a diminished efficiency in its machineryof national association. 

The full meaning of these general principles can, perhaps, be bestexplained by the consideration in relation thereto of the existingpolitical condition of the foremost European nations--Great Britain, France, and Germany. Each of these special cases will afford anopportunity of exhibiting a new and a significant variation of therelation between the principles of nationality and the principles ofdemocracy; and together they should enable us to reach a fairly completedefinition of the extent to which, in contemporary Europe, any fruitfulrelation can be established between them. What has already been saidsufficiently indicates that the effective realization of a nationalprinciple, even in Europe, demands a certain infusion of democracy; butit also indicates that this democratic infusion cannot at any one timebe carried very far without impairing the national integrity. How far, then, in these three decisive cases has the democratic infusion beencarried and what are the consequences, the promise, and the dangers ofeach experiment?

III

NATIONALITY AND DEMOCRACY IN ENGLAND

It has already been observed that England was the first European stateboth in mediæval and modern times to reach a high degree of nationalefficiency. At a period when the foreign policies of the continentalstates were exclusively but timidly dynastic, and when their domesticorganizations illustrated the disadvantages of a tepid autocracy, GreatBritain had entered upon a foreign policy of national colonial expansionand was building up a representative national domestic organization. After several centuries of revolutionary disturbance the English hadregained their national balance, without sacrificing any of thetime-honored elements in their national life. The monarchy wasreconstituted as the symbol of the national integrity and as the crownof the social system. The hereditary aristocracy, which was kept intouch with the commoners because its younger sons were not noble andwhich was national, if not liberal, in spirit, became the real rulers ofEngland; but its role was supplemented by an effective though limitedmeasure of general representation. This organization was perfected inthe nineteenth century. Little by little the area of popularrepresentation was enlarged, until it included almost the whole adultmale population; and the government became more and more effectivelycontrolled by national public opinion. As a result of this slowlygathering but comprehensive plan of national organization, the Englishhave become more completely united in spirit and purpose than are thepeople of any other country. The crown and the aristocracy recognize thelimitations of their positions and their inherited responsibilities tothe gentry and the people. The commoners on their side are proud oftheir lords and of the monarchy and grant them full confidence. It is aunique instance of mutual loyalty and well-distributed responsibilityamong social classes, differing widely in station, occupations, andwealth; and it is founded upon habit of joint consultation, coupled, asthe result of the long persistence of this habit, with an unusualsimilarity of intellectual and moral outlook. 

The result, until recently, was an exceptional degree of nationalefficiency; and in scrutinizing this national efficiency the fact mustbe faced that the political success of Great Britain has apparently beendue, not merely to her adoption of the practice of nationalrepresentation, but to her abhorrence of any more subversive democraticideas. On the one hand, the British have organized a political systemwhich is probably more sensitively and completely responsive to anationalized public opinion than is the political system of theAmerican democracy. On the other hand, this same nationalized politicalorganization is aristocratic to the core--aristocratic without scrupleor qualification. What is the effect of this aristocratic organizationupon the efficiently and fertility of the English political system? Hasit contributed in the past to such efficiency? Does it still contribute?And if so, how far?

The power of the English aristocracy is no doubt to be justified, inpart, by the admirable service which has been rendered to the country bythe nobility and the gentry. During the eighteenth and a part of thenineteenth centuries the political leadership of the English people wason the whole both efficient and edifying. During all this period theircontinental competitors were either burdened with autocraticobscurantism or else were weakened by civil struggles and the fatalconsequences of military aggression. In the meantime Great Britainpursued a comparatively tranquil course of domestic reform and colonialand industrial expansion. She was the European Power whose political andindustrial energies were most completely liberated and most successfullyused; and as a consequence she naturally drifted into an extremelyself-satisfied state of mind in respect to her political and economicorganization and policy. But during the last quarter of the nineteenthcentury political and economic conditions both began to change. The moreimportant competing nations had by that time overcome their internaldisorders, and by virtue of their domestic reforms had released newsprings of national energy. Great Britain had to face much severercompetition in the fields both of industrial and colonial expansion; andduring all of these years she has been losing ground. Her expansion hasnot entirely ceased; but industrially she is being left behind byGermany and by the United States, and her recent colonial acquisitionshave been attained only at an excessive cost. Inasmuch as she hassucceeded in retaining her relative superiority on the sea, she hasmaintained her special position in the European political system; butthe relatively greater responsibilities of the future coupled with herrelatively smaller resources make her future international standingdubious. It looks as if there might be something lacking in the nationalorganization and policy with which Great Britain has been so completelycontent. 

Many Englishmen recognize that their national organization hasdiminished in efficiency, and they are considering various methods ofmeeting the emergency. But to an outsider it does not look as if anyremedy, as yet seriously proposed, was really adequate. The truth is, that the existing political, social, and economic organization of GreatBritain both impairs and misleads the energy of the people. It wasadequate to the economic and political conditions of two generationsago, but it is at the present time becoming more and more inadequate. Itis inferior in certain essential respects to the economic and politicalorganization of Great Britain's two leading competitors--Germany and theUnited States. It is lacking in purpose. It is lacking in brains. It islacking in faith. 

Just as Great Britain benefited enormously during a century and a halffrom her political precocity, so she is now suffering from theconsequences thereof. The political temperament of her people, theirmethod of organization, and their national ideals all took form at atime when international competition for colonies and trade was not verysharp, and when democracy had no philosophic or moral standing. At thebeginning of the eighteenth century the country was longing for domesticpeace, and it was willing to secure peace at any price save that ofliberty. The leadership of the landed aristocracy and gentry secured tothe British people domestic peace and civil liberty, and in return forthese very great blessings they sold themselves to the privilegedclasses. These privileged classes have probably deserved theirprivileges more completely than has the aristocracy of any othercountry. They have been patriotic; they have shed their blood and spenttheir money on what they believed to be the national welfare; theyintroduced an honorable and an admirable _esprit de corps_ into theEnglish public service; and they have been loyal to the great formativeEnglish political idea--the idea of liberty. They have granted to thepeople from time to time as much liberty as public opinion demanded, andhave in this way maintained to the present day their political andsocial prestige. But although they have been, on the whole, individuallydisinterested, they have not been and they could not be disinterested asa class. Owning as they did much of the land, they had as a classcertain economic interests. Possessing as they did certain specialprivileges, they had as a class certain political interests. Theseinterests have been scrupulously preserved, no matter whether they didor did not conflict with the national interest. Their landedproprietorship has resulted in certain radical inequalities of taxationand certain grave economic drawbacks. Their position as a privilegedclass made them hospitable only to those reforms which spared theirprivileges. But their privileges could not be spared, providedEnglishmen allowed rational ideas any decisive influence in theirpolitical life; and the consequence of this abstention from ideas wasthe gradual cultivation of a contempt for intelligence, an excessiveworship of tradition, and a deep-rooted faith in the value ofcompromise. In the interest of domestic harmony they have identifiedcomplacent social subserviency with the virtue of loyalty, and haveerected compromise into an ultimate principle of political action. 

The landed aristocracy and gentry of England have been obliged to faceonly one serious crisis--the prolonged crisis occasioned by thetransformation of Great Britain from an agricultural to an industrialcommunity. The way the English privileged classes preserved theirpolitical leadership during a period, in which land was ceasing to bethe source of Great Britain's economic prosperity, is an extraordinaryillustration of their political tact and social prestige. But it must beadded that their leadership has been preserved more in name than insubstance. The aristocracy managed to keep its prestige and its apparentpower during the course of the industrial revolution, but only oncondition of the abandonment of the substance thereof. The nobility andthe gentry became the privileged servants of the rising middle class. They bought off their commercial and industrial conquerors with theconcession of free trade, because at the time such a concession did notseem to injure their own interests; and they agreed to let the Englishbusiness man practically dictate the national policy. In this way theypreserved their political and social privileges and have gradually soidentified the interests of the well-to-do middle class with theirinterest that the two have become scarcely distinguishable. Thearistocracy of privilege and the aristocracy of wealth are absolutelyunited in their devotion to the existing political organization andpolicy of the United Kingdom. 

This bargain appeared to work very well for a while; but indications areaccumulating that a let-alone economic policy has not preserved thevitality of the British economic system. The English farmer has lostambition, and has been sacrificed to the industrial growth of thenation, while the industrial growth itself no longer shows its formerpower of expansion. The nation passed the responsibility for itseconomic welfare on to the individual; and the individual with all hisenergy and initiative seems unable to hold his own against betterorganized competition. Its competitors have profited by the veryqualities which Great Britain renounced when she accepted theanti-national liberalism of the Manchester school. They have shown underwidely different conditions the power of nationalizing their economicorganization; and in spite of the commission of many errors, particularly in this country, a system of national economy appears tomake for a higher level of economic vitality than a system ofinternational economy. "At the present time, " says Mr. O. Elzbacher inhis "Modern Germany, " "when other nations are no longer divided againstthemselves, but have become homogeneous unified nations in fact andnations in organization, and when the most progressive nations havebecome gigantic institutions for self-improvement and gigantic businessconcerns on coöperative principles, the spasmodic individual efforts ofpatriotic and energetic Englishmen and their unorganized individualaction prove less efficient for the good of their country than they wereformerly. " The political leaders of England abandoned, that is, allleadership in economic affairs and allowed a merely individualisticliberalism complete control of the fiscal and economic policy of thecountry. The government resigned economic responsibility at the verytime when English economic interests began to need vigilant protectionand promotion; and as a consequence of this resignation the Englishgoverning class practically surrendered its primary function. Whatseemed to be an easy transferal to more competent shoulders of thenational responsibility for the economic welfare of the country hasproved to be a betrayal of the national interest. 

Fiscal reform alone will, however, never enable Great Britain to competemore vigorously with either the United States or Germany. The diminishedeconomic vitality of England must be partly traced to her tradition ofpolitical and social subserviency, which serves to rob both the ordinaryand the exceptional Englishmen of energy and efficiency. Americanenergy, so far as it is applied to economic tasks, is liberated notmerely by the abundance of its opportunities, but by the prevailing ideathat every man should make as much of himself as he can; and inobedience to this idea the average American works with all his mighttowards some special personal goal. The energy of the averageEnglishman, on the other hand, is impaired by his complacent acceptanceof positions of social inferiority and by his worship of degradingsocial distinctions; and even successful Englishmen suffer from asimilar handicap. The latter rarely push their business successes home, because they themselves immediately begin to covet a place in the socialhierarchy, and to that end are content with a certain establishedincome. The pleasure which the average Englishman seems to feel inlooking up to the "upper classes" is only surpassed by the pleasurewhich the exceptional Englishman seems to feel in looking down on the"lower classes. " Englishmen have always congratulated themselves becausetheir nobility was not a caste; but the facts that the younger sons ofthe peers are commoners, and that a distinguished commoner may earn apeerage, only makes the poison of these arbitrary social discriminationsthe more deadly. An Englishman always has a chance of winning anirrelevant but very gratifying social and political privilege. He may byacceptable services of the ordinary kind become as good as a lord. Somesuch ambition is nearly always the end to which the energy of thesuccessful Englishman is directed, and its particular nature hinders himfrom realizing the special purpose of his own life with an unimpededwill. 

The net result of the English system is to infect English social, political, military, and industrial life with social favoritism, and thepoison of the infection is only mitigated by the condition that the"favorites" must deserve their selection by the maintenance of a certainstandard. This standard was formed a good many years ago when theconditions of efficiency were not so exacting as they are to-day. Atthat time it was a sufficiently high standard and made, on the whole, for successful achievement. It demanded of the "favorite" that he behonest, patriotic, well-educated, gentlemanly, courageous, and a "goodsort, " but it wholly failed to demand high special training, intenseapplication, unremitting energy, or any exclusive devotion to one'speculiar work. If an Englishman comes up to the regular standard, he canusually obtain his share of the good things of English life; but if hegoes beyond, he falls under the social disqualification of beingabnormal and peculiar. The standard, consequently, is not now anefficient standard; and it is frequently applied with some laxity to themembers of the privileged classes. A tacit conspiracy naturally existsamong people in such a position to make it easy for their associates, friends, and relatives. The props and chances offered to a boy born intothis class make the very most of his probably moderate deserts andabilities, and in occupying a position of responsibility he inevitablydisplaces a more competent substitute. In our own country the enjoymentof such political favors is known as a "pull, " and is a popular butdisreputable method of political advancement, whereas in England thewhole social, and a large part of the political, structure isconstituted on the basis of a systematic and hereditary "pull. " Thespirit thereof is highly honored in the most sacred precincts of Englishlife. It is supported heartily and unscrupulously by English publicopinion, and its critics are few and insignificant. 

When Englishmen come to understand the need of dissociating theirnational idea from its existing encumbrances of political privilege andsocial favoritism, they will be confronted by a reconstructive task ofpeculiar difficulty. The balance of the national life, which has been soslowly and painfully recovered, will be endangered by the weakening ofany of its present supports. For centuries the existing system has beenwrought with the utmost patience and patriotism; and an Englishman maywell shudder at the notion of any essential modification. The good ofthe system is so mixed with the evil that it seems impossible toextricate and eradicate the latter without endangering English nationalcohesion. Their traditional faith in compromise, their traditional dreadof ideas, their traditional habit of acting first and reasoningafterwards, has made the English system a hopelessly confused bundle ofsemi-efficiency and semi-inefficiency--just as it has made the bestEnglish social type a gentleman, but a gentleman absolutely conditioned, tempered, and supplemented by a flunky. 

While the process of becoming more of a democracy may very wellinjure--at any rate for a while--English national consistency, England'sfuture as a nation is compromised by her fear of democracy. She hasbuilt her national organization on the idea that the national welfare isbetter promoted by a popular loyalty which entails popular immobility, than by the exercise on the part of the people of a more individual andless subservient intellectual and moral energy. In so doing she has forthe time being renounced one of the greatest advantages of a nationalpolitical and social organization--the advantage of combining greatpopular energy with loyalty and fertility of association. No doubtcertain nations, because of their perilous international situation, maybe obliged to sacrifice the moral and economic individuality of thepeople to the demands of political security and efficiency. But GreatBritain suffered from no such necessity. After the fall of Napoleon, shewas more secure from foreign interference than ever before in herhistory; and she could have afforded, with far less risk than France, toidentify her national principle with the work of popular liberation andamelioration. As a matter of fact, the logic of the reform movementwhich began in England soon after the Treaty of Vienna, required theadoption by England either of more democracy or of less. The privilegedclasses should either have fought to preserve their peculiarresponsibility for the national welfare, or else, if they were obligedto surrender their inherited leadership, they should have alsosurrendered their political and social privileges. But Englishmen, terrified by the disasters which French democratic nationalism hadwrought upon France, preferred domestic harmony to the perils of anyradical readjustment of the balance of their national life. Thearistocracy and the middle classes compromised their differences; and inthe compromise each of them sacrificed the principle upon which thevitality of its action as a class depended, while both of them combinedto impose subordination on the mass of the people. 

Englishmen have, it is true, always remained faithful to their dominantpolitical idea--the idea of freedom, and the English political andeconomic system is precisely the example of the ultimate disadvantage ofbasing national cohesion upon the application of such a limitedprinciple. This principle, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, always operates for the benefit of a minority, whose whole object, afterthey have once won certain peculiar advantages, is to secure theirperpetuation. The wealthy middle class, which at one time was thebackbone of the Liberal party, has for the most part gone over to theConservatives, because its interest has become as much opposed topolitical and economic egalitarianism as is that of the aristocracy: andthe mass of the English people, whose liberation can never beaccomplished under the existing régime of political and economicprivilege, looks with complacency and awe upon the good time enjoyed bytheir betters. Popular bondage is the price of national consistency. Acentury of industrial expansion and over half a century of free tradehas left the English people miserably poor and contentedly hopeless; andin the future the people cannot depend upon any increase even of thesmall share of the benefits of industrial expansion, which they havehitherto obtained, because the national expansion is itself proceedingat a much slower rate. The dole, which is now being accorded in theshape of old-age pensions, may fairly be compared to the freetransportation to their homes with which the Bank of Monte Carloassuages the feelings of its destitute victims. The nationalorganization and policy is so arranged that the majority must lose. Theresult will be inevitably a diminution of the ability of the UnitedKingdom to hold its own in competition with its economic and politicalrivals; and in all probability this pressure from the outside willeventually force the English nation to reconsider the basis of itspolitical and economic organization and policy. 

IV

DEMOCRACY AND NATIONALITY IN FRANCE

The recent history and the present position of France illustrate anotherphase of the interdependence of the national and the democraticprinciples. The vitality of English national life has been impaired byits identification with an inadequate and aristocratic politicalprinciple. In France the effective vitality of the democracy has beenvery much lowered by certain flaws in the integrity of French nationallife. France is strong where England is weak and is weak where Englandis strong; and this divergence of development is by no means accidental. Just because they were the first countries to become effectivelynationalized, their action and reaction have been constant and haveserved at once to develop and distinguish their national temperaments. The English invasions accelerated the growth of the French royal powerand weakened domestic resistance to its ambitions. The Englishrevolutions of the seventeenth century made the Bourbons more than everdetermined to consolidate the royal despotism and to stamp outProtestantism. The excesses of the French royal despotism brought as aconsequence the excesses of the Revolutionary democracy. The Reign ofTerror in its turn made Englishmen more than ever suspicious of theapplication of rational political ideas to the fabric of Englishsociety. So the ball was tossed back and forth--the national temperamentof each people being at once profoundly modified by this action andreaction and for the same cause profoundly distinguished one from theother. The association has been more beneficial to France than toEngland, because the French, both before and after the Revolution, really tried to learn something from English political experience, whereas the English have never been able to discover anything in thepolitical experience of their neighbors, except an awful example of thedanger of democratic ideas and political and social rationalism. 

The ideas of the French democracy were in the beginning revolutionary, disorderly, and subversive of national consistency and good faith. Nodoubt the French democracy had a much better excuse for identifyingdemocracy with a system of abstract rights and an indiscriminateindividualism than had the American democracy. The shadow of the OldRégime hung over the country; and it seemed as if the newly won civiland political rights could be secured only by erecting them intoabsolute conditions of just political association and by surroundingthem with every possible guarantee. Moreover, the natural course of theFrench democratic development was perverted by foreign interference anda constant condition of warfare; and if the French nation had beenallowed to seek its own political salvation without interference, as wasthis English nation, the French democracy might have been saved many anerror and excess. But whatever excuses may be found for the disorders ofthe French democracy, the temporary effect of the democratic idea uponthe national fabric was, undoubtedly, a rending of the roots of theirnational stability and good feeling. The successive revolutionaryexplosions, which have constituted so much of French history since 1789, have made France the victim of what sometimes seem to be mutuallyexclusive conceptions of French national well-being. The democraticradicals are "intransigeant. " The party of tradition and authority is"ultramontane. " The majority of moderate and sensible people are usuallyin control; but their control is unstable. The shadow of the Terror andthe Commune hangs over every serious crisis in French politics. Theradicals jump to the belief that the interests and rights of the peoplehave been betrayed and that the traitors should be exterminated. GoodFrenchmen suffer during those crises from an obsession of suspicion andfear. Their mutual loyalty, their sense of fair play, and their naturalkindliness are all submerged under a tyranny of desperate apprehension. The social bond is unloosed, and the prudent bourgeois thinks only ofthe preservation of person and property. 

This aspect of the French democracy can, however, easily beover-emphasized and usually is over-emphasized by foreigners. It isundoubtedly a living element in the composition of the contemporaryFrance; but it was less powerful at the time of the Commune than at thetime of the Terror, and is less powerful to-day than it was in 1871. French political history in the nineteenth century is not to be regardedas a succession of meaningless revolutions, born of a spirit of recklessand factious insubordination, but as the route whereby a people, inexperienced in self-government, have been gradually traveling towardsthe kind of self-government best fitted to their needs. It is entirelypossible that the existing Republic, modified perhaps for the purpose ofobtaining a more independent and a more vigorous executive authority, may in the course of time give France the needed political and socialstability. That form of government which was adopted at the time, because it divided Frenchmen the least, may become the form ofgovernment which unites Frenchmen by the strongest ties. Bismarck'smisunderstanding of the French national character and political needswas well betrayed when he favored a Republic rather than a Legitimistmonarchy in France, because a French Republic would, in his opinion, necessarily keep France a weak and divided neighbor. The Republic haskept France divided, but it has been less divided than it would havebeen under any monarchical government. It has successfully weathered anumber of very grave domestic crises; and its perpetuity will probablydepend primarily upon its ability to secure and advance by practicalmeans the international standing of France. The Republic has beenobliged to meet a foreign peril more prolonged and more dangerous thanthat which has befallen any French government since 1600. From the timeof Richelieu until 1870, France was stronger than any of her continentalneighbors. Unless they were united against her she had little to fearfrom them; and her comparative strength tempted her to be aggressive, careless, and experimental in her foreign policy. That policy wasvacillating, purposeless, and frequently wasteful of the nationalresources. Eventually, it compromised the international position ofFrance. After 1871, for the first time in almost three hundred years, the very safety of France in a time of peace became actively and gravelyimperiled. The third Republic reaped the fruit of all the formertrifling with the national interest of France and that of its neighbors;and the resulting danger was and is so ominous and so irretrievable thatit has made and will make for internal stability. If the Republic canprovide for French national defense and can keep for France the positionin Europe to which she is entitled, the Republic will probably endure. And in that case it will certainly deserve to endure, because it willhave faced and overcome the most exacting possible national peril. 

Even the most loyal friend of France can, however, hardly claim that theFrench democracy is even yet thoroughly nationalized. It has donesomething to obtain national cohesion at home, and to advance thenational interest abroad; but evidences of the traditional dissociationbetween French democracy and French national efficiency and consistencyare still plainly visible. Both the domestic and the foreign policies ofthe Republic have of late years been weakened by the persistence of afactious and anti-national spirit among radical French democrats. 

The most dangerous symptom of this anti-national democracy is that anapparently increasing number of educated Frenchmen are rebelling againstthe burdens imposed upon the Republic by its perilous internationalposition. They are tending to seek security and relief, not bystrengthening the national bond and by loyalty to the fabric of theirnational life, but by personal disloyalty and national dissolution. Themost extreme of democratic socialists do not hesitate to advocate armedrebellion against military service in the interest of internationalpeace. They would fight their fellow-countrymen in order to promote aunion with foreigners. How far views of this kind have come to prevail, an outsider cannot very well judge; but they are said to be popularamong the school teachers, and to have impaired the discipline of thearmy itself. Authoritative French journals claim that France cannotafford to run the risk of incurring the ill-will of Germany, even in agood cause, because the country is no longer sure of its militaryefficiency. There is no present danger of this anti-nationalistdemocracy capturing control of the French government, as did therevolutionary democracy at an earlier date; but its existence is asource of weakness to a nation whose perilous international situationrequires the most absolute patriotic devotion on the part of her sons. 

Unfortunately, it is also true that the official domestic policy of theRepublic is not informed by a genuinely national spirit. Just as theEnglish national interest demands the temporary loosening of traditionalbonds for the sake of securing national cohesion at a smaller sacrificeof popular vitality, so, on the contrary, the French national interestdemands more of the English spirit of compromise for the sake ofnational consistency. The wounds dealt to the integrity of Frenchnational life by the domestic conflicts of four generations requirebinding and healing. The Third Republic has on the whole been morenational in its domestic policy than were any of the preceding Frenchgovernments for over two hundred years; but it has still fallen farshort of its duty in that respect. The healing of one wound has alwaysbeen followed by the opening of another. Irreconcilable differences ofopinion still subsist; and they are rarely bridged or dissolved by anyfundamental loyalty of patriotic feeling. The French have as yet beenunable to find in their democracy any conscious ideal of mutual loyaltywhich provides a sufficient substitute for a merely instinctive nationaltradition. They have not yet come to realize that the success of theirwhole democratic experiment depends upon their ability to reach a goodunderstanding with their fellow-countrymen, and, that just in so far astheir democracy fails to be nationally constructive, it is ignoring themost essential condition of its own vitality and perpetuity. 

The French democracy is confronted by an economic, as well as apolitical, problem of peculiar difficulty. The effects of the Revolutionwere no less important upon the distribution of wealth in France thanupon the distribution of political power. The people came into theownership of the land; and in the course of time the area of thisdistribution has been increased rather than diminished. Furthermore, thelaws under which property in France is inherited have promoted asimilarly wide distribution of personal estate. France is a richcountry; and its riches are much more evenly divided than is the case inGreat Britain, Germany, or the United States. There are fewer largefortunes, and fewer cases of poverty. The average Frenchman is a small, but extremely thrifty proprietor, who abhors speculation and is alwaysmanaging to add something to his accumulations; and the French economicsystem is adapted to this peculiar distribution of wealth. The scarcityin France of iron and coal has checked the tendency to industrialorganization on a huge scale. The strength of the French industrialsystem does not consist in the large and efficient use of machinery, butin its multitude of skilled craftsmen and the excellence of theirhandiwork. In a system of this kind, labor naturally receives a largepercentage of the gross product, and a larger proportion of wage-earnersreach an independent economic position. At first sight it looks as ifFrance was something like a genuine economic democracy, and ought toescape the evils which threaten other countries from an economicorganization, in which concentrated capital plays a more important part. 

But the situation is not without another and less favorable aspect. France, in becoming a country of small and extremely thrifty propertyowners, has also become a country of partial economic parasites withvery little personal initiative and energy. Individual freedom has beensacrificed to economic and social equality; and this economic and socialequality has not made for national cohesion. The bourgeois, themechanic, and the farmer, in so far as they have accumulated property, are exhibiting an extremely calculating individualism, of which the mostdangerous symptom is the decline in the birth-rate. Frenchmen arebecoming more than ever disinclined to take the risks and assume theexpense of having more than one or two children. The recent outbreak ofanti-militarism is probably merely another illustration of theincreasing desire of the French bourgeois for personal security, and theopportunity for personal enjoyment. To a foreigner it looks as if thegrave political and social risks, which the French nation has takensince 1789, had gradually cultivated in individual Frenchmen anexcessive personal prudence, which adds to the store of national wealth, but which no more conduces to economic, social, and political efficiencythan would the incarceration of a fine army in a fortress conduce tomilitary success. A nation or an individual who wishes to accomplishgreat things must be ready, in Nietsche's phrase, "to livedangerously"--to take those risks, without which no really greatachievement is possible; and if Frenchmen persist in erecting the virtueof thrift and the demand for safety into the predominant nationalcharacteristic, they are merely beginning a process of nationalcorruption and dissolution. 

That any such result is at all imminent, I do not for a moment believe. The time will come when the danger of the present drift will beunderstood, and will create its sufficient remedy; and all good friendsof democracy and human advancement should hope and believe that Francewill retain indefinitely her national vitality. If she should drift intoan insignificant position in relation to her neighbors, a void would becreated which it would be impossible to fill and which would reactdeleteriously upon the whole European system. But such a result is onlyto be avoided by the general recognition among Frenchmen that the meanswhich they are adopting to render their personal position more secure isrendering their national situation more precarious. The fate of theFrench democracy is irrevocably tied up with the fate of Frenchnational life, and the best way for a Frenchman to show himself a gooddemocrat is to make those sacrifices and to take those risks necessaryfor the prestige and welfare of his country. 

V

THE RELATION OF GERMAN NATIONALITY TO DEMOCRACY

The German Empire presents still another phase of the relation betweendemocracy and nationality, and one which helps considerably towards anunderstanding of the varied possibilities of that relationship. TheGerman national organization and policy was wrought in a manner entirelydifferent from that of either France or England. In the two lattercountries political freedom was conquered only as the result ofsuccessive revolutions; and the ruling classes were obliged to recognizethe source of these political reformations by renouncing all or a largepart of their inherited responsibilities. In Germany, on the other hand, or rather in Prussia as the maker of modern Germany, the various changesin the national organization and policy, which have resulted in thefounding of a united nation, originated either with the crown or withthe royal counselors. The Prussian monarchy has, consequently, passedthrough the revolutionary period without abandoning its politicalleadership of the Prussian state. It has created a nationalrepresentative body; but it has not followed the English example andallowed such a body to tie its hands; and it has remained, consequently, the most completely responsible and representative monarchy in Europe. 

Up to the present time this responsibility and power have on the wholebeen deserved by the manner in which they have been exercised. Germannationality as an efficient political and economic force has beenwrought by skillful and patriotic management out of materials affordedby military and political opportunities and latent national ties andtraditions. During the eighteenth century the Prussian monarchy came tounderstand that the road to effective political power in Germany was byway of a military efficiency, disproportionate to the resources andpopulation of the Kingdom. In this way it was able to take advantage ofalmost every important crisis to increase its dominion and itsprestige. Neither was Prussian national efficiency built up merely by awell-devised and practicable policy of military aggression. The Prussianmonarchy had the good sense to accept the advice of domestic reformersduring its period of adversity, and so contributed to the economicliberation and the educational training of its subjects. Thus the modernGerman nation has been at bottom the work of admirable leadership on thepart of officially responsible leaders; and among those leaders the manwho planned most effectively and accomplished the greatest results wasOtto von Bismarck. 

 * * * * *

It requires a very special study of European history after 1848 tounderstand how bold, how original, how comprehensive, and how adequatefor their purpose Bismarck's ideas and policy gradually became; and itrequires a very special study of Bismarck's own biography to understandthat his personal career, with all its transformations, exhibits anequally remarkable integrity. The Bismarck of from 1848 to 1851 isusually described as a country squire, possessed by obscurantistmediæval ideas wholly incompatible with his own subsequent policy. Butwhile there are many superficial contradictions between the countrysquire of 1848 and the Prussian Minister and German Chancellor, thereally peculiar quality of Bismarck's intelligence was revealed in hisability to develop a constructive German national policy out of theprejudices and ideas of a Prussian "junker. " Bismarck, in 1848, wasprimarily an ardent Prussian patriot who believed that the monarchy wasdivinely authorized to govern the Prussian people, and that anydiminution of this responsibility was false in principle and would bebaleful in its results. These ideas led him, in 1848, to oppose theconstitution, granted by Frederick William IV and to advocate therepression of all revolutionary upheavals. He never essentially departedfrom these principles; but his experience gradually taught him that theywere capable of a different and more edifying application. The point ofview from which his policy, his achievements, and his career can best beunderstood is that of a patriotic Prussian who was exclusively, intelligently, and unscrupulously devoted to the welfare (as heconceived it) of his country and his king. As a loyal Prussian he wishedto increase Prussian influence among the other German states, becausethat was the only way to improve her standing and greatness as aEuropean Power; and he soon realized that Austria constituted the greatobstacle to any such increase of Prussian influence. He and he only drewthe one sufficient inference from this fact. Inasmuch as Prussia'sfuture greatness and efficiency depended absolutely on the increase ofher influence in Germany, and inasmuch as Austria barred her path, Prussia must be prepared to fight Austria, and must make every possibleprovision, both diplomatic and military, to bring such a war to asuccessful issue. Such a purpose meant, of course, the abandonment ofthe policy which Prussia had pursued for a whole generation. The oneinterest which Bismarck wanted the Prussian government to promote wasthe Prussian interest, no matter whether that interest meant oppositionto the democracy or coöperation therewith; and the important point inthe realization of this exclusive policy is that he soon found himselfin need of the help of the German democratic movement. His resolute andcandid nationalism in the end forced him to enter into an alliance withthe very democracy which he had begun by detesting. 

It must be admitted, also, that he had in the beginning reason todistrust the Prussian and the German democracy. The German radicals hadsought to compass the unification of Germany by passing resolutions andmaking speeches; but such methods, which are indispensable accessoriesto the good government of an established national community, wereutterly incompetent to remove the obstacles to German unity. Theseobstacles consisted in the particularism of the German princes, theopposition of Austria, and looming in the background the possibleopposition of France; and Bismarck alone thoroughly understood that suchobstacles could be removed by war and war only. But in order to wage warsuccessfully, a country must be well-armed; and in the attempt to armPrussia so that she would be equal to asserting her interests inGermany, Bismarck and the king had to face the stubborn opposition ofthe Prussian representative assembly. Bismarck did not flinch fromfighting the Prussian assembly in the national interest any more than heflinched under different circumstances from calling the German democracyto his aid. When by this policy, at once bold and cautious, of Prussianaggrandizement, he had succeeded in bringing about war with Austria, hefearlessly announced a plan of partial unification, based upon thesupremacy of Prussia and a national parliament elected by universalsuffrage; and after the defeat of Austria, he successfully carried thisplan into effect. It so happened that the special interest of Prussiacoincided with the German national interest. It was Prussia's effectivemilitary power which defeated Austria and forced the princes to abatetheir particularist pretensions. It was Prussia's comparatively largerpopulation which made Bismarck insist that the German nation should bean efficient popular union rather than a mere federation of states. Andit was Bismarck's experience with the anti-nationalism "liberalism" ofthe Prussian assembly, elected as it was by a very restricted suffrage, which convinced him that the national interest could be as well trustedto the good sense and the patriotism of the whole people as to thespecial interests of the "bourgeoisie. " Thus little by little thefertile seed of Bismarck's Prussian patriotism grew into a Germansemi-democratic nationalism, and it achieved this transformation withoutany essential sacrifice of its own integrity. He had been working inPrussia's interest throughout, but he saw clearly just where thePrussian interest blended with the German national interest, and justwhat means, whether by way of military force or popular approval, werenecessary for the success of his patriotic policy. 

When the Prussian Minister-President became the Imperial Chancellor, hepursued in the larger field a similar purpose by different means. TheGerman national Empire had been founded by means of the forciblecoercion of its domestic and foreign opponents. It remained now toorganize and develop the new national state; and the government, underBismark's lead, made itself responsible for the task of organization anddevelopment, just as it had made itself responsible for the task ofunification. According to the theories of democratic individualistic"liberalism, " such an effort could only result in failure, because fromthe liberal point of view the one way to develop a modern industrialnation was simply to allow the individual every possible liberty. ButBismarck's whole scheme of national industrial organization looked in avery different direction. He believed that the nation itself, asrepresented by its official leaders, should actively assist in preparingan adequate national domestic policy, and in organizing the machineryfor its efficient execution. He saw clearly that the logic and thepurpose of the national type of political organization was entirelydifferent from that of a so-called free democracy, as explained in thephilosophy of the German liberals of 1848, the Manchester school inEngland, or our own Jeffersonian Democrats; and he successfullytransformed his theory of responsible administrative activity into acomprehensive national policy. The army was, if anything, increased instrength, so that it might remain fully adequate either for nationaldefense or as an engine of German international purposes. A beginningwas made toward the creation of a navy. A moderate but explicitprotectionist policy was adopted, aimed not at the special developmenteither of rural or manufacturing industries, but at the all-rounddevelopment of Germany as an independent national economic unit. InPrussia itself the railways were bought by the government, so that theyshould be managed, not in the interest of the shareholders, but in thatof the national economic system. The government encouraged the spread ofbettor farming methods, which have resulted in the gradual increase inthe yield per acre of every important agricultural staple. Theeducational system of the country was made of direct assistance toindustry, because it turned out skilled scientific experts, who usedtheir knowledge to promote industrial efficiency. In every directionGerman activity was organized and was placed under skilled professionalleadership, while at the same time each of these special lines of workwas subordinated to its particular place in a comprehensive scheme ofnational economy. This "paternalism" has, moreover, accomplished itspurpose. German industrial expansion surpasses in some respects that ofthe United States, and has left every European nation far behind. Germany alone among the modern European nations is, in spite of thetemporary embarrassment of Imperial finance, carrying the cost of modernmilitary preparation easily, and looks forward confidently to greatersuccesses in the future. She is at the present time a very strikingexample of what can be accomplished for the popular welfare by afearless acceptance on the part of the official leaders of economic aswell as political responsibility, and by the efficient and intelligentuse of all available means to that end. 

Inevitably, however, Germany is suffering somewhat from the excess ofher excellent qualities. Her leaders were not betrayed by the success oftheir foreign and domestic policies to attempt the immediateaccomplishment of purposes, incommensurate with the national power andresources; but they were tempted to become somewhat overbearing in theirattitude toward their domestic and foreign opponents. No doubt aposition which was conquered by aggressive leadership must be maintainedby aggressive leadership; and no doubt, consequently, the GermanImperial Power could not well avoid the appearance and sometimes thesubstance of being domineering. But the consequence of the Bismarckiantradition of bullying and browbeating one's opponents has been that ofintensifying the opposition to the national policy and of compromisingits success. France has been able to escape from the isolation in whichshe was long kept by Bismarck after the war, and has gradually built upa series of understandings with other Powers, more or less inimical toGermany. The latter's standing in Europe is not as high as it was tenyears ago, in spite of the increased relative efficiency of her army, her navy, and her economic system. Moreover, an equally serious anddangerous opposition has been created at home. The government has notsucceeded in retaining the loyal support of a large fraction of theGerman people. A party which is composed for the most part ofworkingmen, and which has been increasing steadily in the number of itsadherents, is utterly opposed to the present policy and organization ofthe Imperial government; and those Social Democrats have for the mostpart been treated by the authorities with repressive laws and abusiveepithets. Thus a schism is being created in the German national systemwhich threatens to become a source of serious weakness to the nationalefficiency and strength. 

That the existence of some such domestic opposition is to a certainextent unavoidable must be admitted. A radical incompatibility existsbetween the national policy of the Imperial and Prussian governments andthe Social Democratic programme; and the Imperial authorities could notconciliate the Social Democrats without abandoning the peculiarorganization and policy which have been largely so responsible for theextraordinary increase in the national well-being. On the other hand, itmust also be remembered that the Prussian royal power has maintained itsnationally representative character and its responsible leadership quiteas much by its ability to meet legitimate popular grievances and needsas by its successful foreign policy. The test of German domesticstatesmanship hereafter will consist in its ability to win the supportof the industrial democracy, created by the industrial advance of thecountry, without impairing the traditional and the existing practice ofexpert and responsible leadership. The task is one of extremedifficulty, but it is far from being wholly impossible, because theSocial Democratic party in Germany is every year becoming lessrevolutionary and more national in its outlook. But at present littleattempt is being made at conciliation; and the attitude of the rulingclasses is such that in the near future none is likely to be made. Inthis respect they are false to the logic of the origin of Germanpolitical unity. The union was accomplished with the assistance of thedemocracy and on a foundation of universal suffrage. As Germany hasbecome more of a nation, the democracy has acquired more substantialpower; but its increase in numbers and weight has not been accompaniedby any increase of official recognition. The political organization ofGermany is consequently losing touch with those who represent oneessential aspect of the national growth. It behooves the ruling classesto tread warily, or they may have to face a domestic opposition moredangerous than any probable foreign opposition. 

The situation is complicated by the dubious international standing ofthe German Empire. She is partly surrounded by actual and possibleenemies, against whom she can make headway only by means of continuousvigilance and efficient leadership; while at the same time her ownnational ambitions still conflict in some measure with the interests ofher neighbors. Her official foreign policy since 1872 has undoubtedlybeen determined by the desire to maintain the peace of Europe undereffective guarantees, because she needed time to consolidate herposition and reap the advantages of her increasing industrialefficiency; but both German and European statesmen are none the lessvery conscious of the fact that the German Empire is the European Powerwhich has most to gain in Europe from a successful war. Some Frenchmenstill cherish plans of revenge for 1870; but candid French opinion isbeginning to admit that the constantly increasing resources of Germanyin men and money make any deliberate policy of that kind almostsuicidal. France would lose much more by a defeat than she could gainfrom a victory, and the fruits of victory could not be permanently held. Italy, also, has no unsatisfied ambition which a war could gratify, except the addition of a few thousand Austrian-Italians to herpopulation. Russia still looks longingly toward Constantinople; butuntil she has done something to solve her domestic problem andreorganize her finances, she needs peace rather than war. But the pastsuccesses of Germany and her new and increasing expansive power tempther to cherish ambitions which constitute the chief menace to theinternational stability of Europe. She would have much to lose, but shewould also have something to gain from the possible disintegration ofAustria-Hungary. She has possibly still more to gain from theincorporation of Holland within the Empire. Her increasing commerce haspossessed her with the idea of eventually disputing the supremacy of thesea with Great Britain. And she unquestionably expects to profit in AsiaMinor from the possible break-up of the Ottoman Empire. How seriouslysuch ambitions are entertained, it is difficult to say; and it is whollyimprobable that more than a small part of this enormous programme ofnational aggrandizement will ever be realized. But when Germany has thechance of gaining and holding such advantages as these from a successfulwar, it is no wonder that she remains the chief possible disturber ofthe European peace. In her case certainly the fruits of victory lookmore seductive than the penalties of defeat look dangerous; and theresolute opposition to the partial disarmament, which she has alwaysoffered at the Hague Conference, is the best evidence of the unsatisfiednature of her ambitions. 

Germany's standing in the European system is, then, very far from beingas well-defined as are those of the older nations, like France and GreatBritain. The gradual growth of a better understanding between France, Great Britain, and Russia is largely due to an instinctive coalition ofthose powers who would be most injured by an increase of the Germaninfluence and dominion; and the sense that Europe is becoming unitedagainst them makes German statesmen more than ever on their guard andmore than ever impatient of an embarrassing domestic opposition. ThusGermany's aggressive foreign policy has so far tended to increase thedistance between her responsible leaders and the popular party; andthere are only two ways in which this schism can be healed. If Germanforeign policy should continue to be as brilliantly successful as it wasin the days of Bismarck, the authorities will have no difficulty inretaining the support of a sufficient majority of the Germanpeople--just as the victory over Austria brought King William andBismarck forgiveness from their parliamentary opponents. On the otherhand, any severe setback to Germany in the realization of its aggressiveplans would strengthen the domestic opposition and might lead to asevere internal crisis. It all depends upon whether German nationalpolicy has or has not overstepped the limits of practical and permanentachievement. 

VI

MILITARISM AND NATIONALITY

The foregoing considerations in respect to the existing internationalsituation of Germany bring me to another and final aspect of therelation in Europe between nationality and democracy. One of the mostdifficult and (be it admitted) one of the most dubious problems raisedby any attempt to establish a constructive relationship between thosetwo principles hangs on the fact that hitherto national development hasnot apparently made for international peace. The nations of Europe areto all appearances as belligerent as were the former European dynasticstates. Europe has become a vast camp, and its governments are spendingprobably a larger proportion of the resources of their countries formilitary and naval purposes than did those of the eighteenth century. How can these warlike preparations, in which all the European nationsshare, and the warlike spirit which they have occasionally displayed, bereconciled with the existence of any constructive relationship betweenthe national and the democratic ideas?

The question can best be answered by briefly reviewing the claimsalready advanced on behalf of the national principle. I have assertedfrom the start that the national principle was wholly different inorigin and somewhat different in meaning from the principle ofdemocracy. What has been claimed for nationality is, not that it can beidentified with democracy, but that as a political principle it remainedunsatisfied without an infusion of democracy. But the extent to whichthis infusion can go and the forms which it takes are determined by alogic and a necessity very different from that of an absolute democratictheory. National politics have from the start aimed primarily atefficiency--that is, at the successful use of the force resident in thestate to accomplish the purposes desired by the Sovereign authority. Among the group of states inhabited by Christian peoples it hasgradually been discovered that the efficient use of force is contingentin a number of respects upon its responsible use; and that itsresponsible use means a limited policy of external aggrandizement and apartial distribution of political power and responsibilities. A nationalpolity, however, always remains an organization based upon force. Ininternal affairs it depends at bottom for its success not merely uponpublic opinion, but, if necessary, upon the strong arm. It is a matterof government and coercion as well as a matter of influence andpersuasion. So in its external relations its standing and success havedepended, and still depend, upon the efficient use of force, just in sofar as force is demanded by its own situation and the attitudes of itsneighbors and rivals. The democrats who disparage efficient nationalorganization are at bottom merely seeking to exorcise the power ofphysical force in human affairs by the use of pious incantations andheavenly words. That they will never do. The Christian warrior mustaccompany the evangelist; and Christians are not by any means angels. Itis none the less true that the modern nations control the expenditure ofmore force in a more responsible manner than have any precedingpolitical organizations; and it is none the less true that a furtherdevelopment of the national principle will mean in the end theattachment of still stricter responsibilities to the use of force bothin the internal and external policies of modern nations. 

War may be and has been a useful and justifiable engine of nationalpolicy. It is justifiable, moreover, not merely in such a case as ourCivil War, in which a people fought for their own national integrity. It was, I believe, justifiable, in the case of the two wars whichpreceded the formation of the modern German Empire. These wars may, indeed, be considered as decisive instances. Prussia did not drift intothem, as we drifted into the Civil War. They were deliberately provokedby Bismarck at a favorable moment, because they were necessary to theunification of the German people under Prussian leadership; and I do nothesitate to say that he can be justified in the assumption of thisenormous responsibility. The German national organization meansincreased security, happiness, and opportunity of development for thewhole German people; and inasmuch as the selfish interests of Austriaand France blocked the path, Bismarck had his sufficient warrant for adeliberately planned attack. No doubt such an attack and its resultsinjured France and the French people just as it has benefited Germany;but France had to suffer that injury as a penalty for the part she hadas a matter of policy played in German affairs. For centuries a unitedFrance had helped to maintain for her own purposes a divided Germany;and when Germany herself became united, it was inevitable, as Bismarckforesaw in 1848, that French opposition must be forcibly removed, andsome of the fruits of French aggression be reclaimed. That therestitution demanded went further than was necessary, I fully believe;but the partial abuse of victory does not diminish the legitimacy of theGerman aggression. A war waged for an excellent purpose contributes moreto human amelioration than a merely artificial peace, --such as thatestablished by the Holy Alliance. The unification of Germany and Italyhas not only helped to liberate the energies of both the German and theItalian people, but it has made the political divisions of Europeconform much more nearly to the lines within which the people of Europecan loyally and fruitfully associate one with another. In fact, thewhole national movement, if it has increased the preparations for war, has diminished in number of probable causes thereof; and it is only bydiminishing the number of causes whereby a nation has more to gain fromvictory than it has to lose by defeat that war among the civilizedpowers can be gradually extinguished. 

At the present time it is, as we have seen, the international situationand the national ambitions of Russia and Germany which constitute thechief threat to European peace. Germany's existing position in Europedepends upon its alliance with Austria-Hungary. The Habsburg Empire isan incoherent and unstable state which is held together only by dynasticties and external pressure. The German, the Austrian, and the Hungarianinterests all demand the perpetuation of the Habsburg dominion; but itis doubtful whether in the long run its large Slavic population will notcombine with its blood neighbors to break the bond. But whether theGerman, Austrian, and Hungarian interest does or does not prevail, thefundamental national interests, which are compromised by the precariousstability of Austria-Hungary, are alone sufficient to make disarmamentimpossible. Disarmament means the preservation of Europe in its existingcondition; and such a policy, enforced by means of internationalguarantees, would be almost as inimical to the foundation of a permanentand satisfactory international system now as it was in 1820. The facthas to be recognized that the ultimate object of a peaceable and stableEuropean international situation cannot in all probability be reachedwithout many additional wars; and the essential point is that thesewars, when they come, should, like the wars between Austria or Franceand Prussia, or like our Civil War, be fought to accomplish a desirablepurpose and should be decisive in result. 

Modern conflicts between efficiently organized nations tend to obtainjust this character. They are fought for a defensible purpose, and theyaccomplish a definite result. The penalties of defeat are so disastrousthat warfare is no longer wantonly incurred; and it will not be provokedat all by nations, such as Italy or France, who have less to gain fromvictory than they have to lose from defeat. Moreover, the cost ofexisting armaments is so crushing that an ever increasing motive existsin favor of their ultimate reduction. This motive will not operate aslong as the leading Powers continue to have unsatisfied ambitions whichlook practicable; but eventually it will necessarily have its effect. Each war, as it occurs, even if it does not finally settle someconflicting claims, will most assuredly help to teach the warringnations just how far they can go, and will help, consequently, torestrict its subsequent policy within practicable and probablyinoffensive limits. It is by no means an accident that England andFrance, the two oldest European nations, are the two whose foreignpolicies are best defined and, so far as Europe is concerned, leastoffensive. For centuries these Powers fought and fought, because one ofthem had aggressive designs which apparently or really affected thewelfare of the other; but the result of this prolonged rivalry has beena constantly clearer understanding of their respective nationalinterests. Clear-headed and moderate statesmen like Talleyrandrecognized immediately after the Revolution that the substantialinterests of a liberalized France in Europe were closely akin to thoseof Great Britain, and again and again in the nineteenth century thisprophecy was justified. Again and again the two Powers were broughttogether by their interests only to be again divided by a tradition ofantagonism and misunderstanding. At present, however, they are probablyon better terms than ever before in the history of their relations; andthis result is due to the definite and necessarily unaggressivecharacter of their European interests. They have finally learned thelimits of their possible achievement and could transgress them only bysome act of folly. 

In the course of another fifty years the limits of possible aggressionby Germany and Russia in Europe will probably be very much betterdefined than they are to-day. These two Powers will seek at thefavorable moment to accomplish certain aggressive purposes which theysecretly or openly entertain, and they will succeed or fail. Eachsuccess or failure will probably be decisive in certain respects, andwill remove one or more existing conflicts of interest or ambiguities ofposition. Whether this progressive specification of the practicableforeign policies of the several Powers will soon or will ever go so faras to make some general international understanding possible, is aquestion which no man can answer; but as long as the national principleretains its vitality, there is no other way of reaching a permanent andfruitful international settlement. That any one nation, or any smallgroup of nations, can impose its dominion upon Europe is contrary toevery lesson of European history. Such a purpose would be immeasurablybeyond the power even of 90, 000, 000 Germans or 150, 000, 000 Russians, oreven beyond the power of 90, 000, 000 Germans allied with 150, 000, 000Russians. Europe is capable of combining more effectually than everbefore to resist any possible revival of imperialism; and the time willcome when Europe, threatened by the aggression of any one domineeringPower, can call other continents to her assistance. The limits to thepossible expansion of any one nation are established by certainfundamental and venerable political conditions. The penalties ofpersistent transgression would be not merely a sentence of piracysimilar to that passed on Napoleon I, but a constantly diminishingnational vitality on the part of the aggressor. As long as the nationalprinciple endures, political power cannot be exercised irresponsiblywithout becoming inefficient and sterile. 

Inimical as the national principle is to the carrying out either of avisionary or a predatory foreign policy in Europe, it does not imply anysimilar hostility to a certain measure of colonial expansion. In this, as in many other important respects, the constructive national democratmust necessarily differ from the old school of democratic "liberals. " Anationalized democracy is not based on abstract individual rights, nomatter whether the individual lives in Colorado, Paris, or Calcutta. Itsconsistency is chiefly a matter of actual historical association in themidst of a general Christian community of nations. A people that lackthe power of basing their political association on an accumulatednational tradition and purpose is not capable either of nationality ordemocracy; and that is the condition of the majority of Asiatic andAfrican peoples. A European nation can undertake the responsibility ofgoverning these politically disorganized societies without any necessarydanger to its own national life. Such a task need not be beyond itsphysical power, because disorganized peoples have a comparatively smallpower of resistance, and a few thousand resolute Europeans can hold insubmission many million Asiatics. Neither does it conflict with themoral basis of a national political organization, because at least for awhile the Asiatic population may well be benefited by more orderly andprogressive government. Submission to such a government is necessary asa condition of subsequent political development. The majority of Asiaticand African communities can only got a fair start politically by somesuch preliminary process of tutelage; and the assumption by a Europeannation of such a responsibility in a desirable phase of nationaldiscipline and a frequent source of genuine national advance. 

Neither does an aggressive colonial policy make for unnecessary ormeaningless wars. It is true, of course, that colonial expansionincreases the number of possible occasions for dispute among theexpanding nations; but these disputes have the advantage of rarelyturning on questions really vital to the future prosperity of a Europeannation. They are just the sort of international differences of interestwhich ought to be settled by arbitration or conciliation, because bothof the disputants have so much more to lose by hostilities than theyhave to gain by military success. A dispute turning upon a piece ofAfrican territory would, if it waxed into war, involve the most awfuland dangerous consequences in Europe. The danger of European wars, except for national purposes of prime importance, carries itsconsequence into Africa and Asia. France, for instance, was very muchirritated by the continued English occupation of Egypt in spite ofcertain solemn promises of evacuation; and the expedition of Marchand, which ended in the Fashoda incident, indirectly questioned the validityof the British occupation of Egypt by making that occupationstrategically insecure. In spite, however, of the deliberate manner inwhich France raised this question and of the highly irritated conditionof French public opinion, she could not, when the choice had to be made, afford the consequences of a Franco-English war. In the end she wasobliged to seek compensation elsewhere in Africa and abandon heroccupation of Fashoda. This incident is typical; and it points directlyto the conclusion that wars will very rarely occur among Europeannations over disputes as to colonies, unless the political situation inEurope is one which itself makes war desirable or inevitable. A Bismarckcould handle a Fashoda incident so as to provoke hostilities, but inthat case Fashoda, like the Hohenzollern candidacy in Spain, would be apretext, not a cause. The one contemporary instance in which adifference of colonial interests has caused a great war is the recentconflict between Russia and Japan; and in this instance the issuesraised by the dispute were essentially different from the issues raisedby a dispute over a colonial question between two European nations. Theconflict of interests turned upon matter essential to the futureprosperity of Japan, while at the same time the war did not necessarilyinvolve dangerous European complications. 

The truth is that colonial expansion by modern national states is to beregarded, not as a cause of war, but as a safety-valve against war. Itaffords an arena in which the restless and adventurous members of anational body can have their fling without dangerous consequences, whileat the same time it satisfies the desire of a people for some evidenceof and opportunity for national expansion. The nations which, one afteranother, have recognized the limits of their expansion in Europe havebeen those which have adopted a more or less explicit policy of colonialacquisition. Spain was, indeed, a great colonial power at a time whenher policy in Europe continued to be aggressive; but her Europeanaggressions soon undermined her national vitality, and her decadence inEurope brought her colonial expansion to a standstill. Portugal andHolland were too small to cherish visions of European aggrandizement, and they naturally sought an outlet in Asia and Africa for theirenergies. After Great Britain had passed through her revolutionaryperiod, she made rapid advances as a colonial power, because sherealized that her insular situation rendered a merely defensive Europeanpolicy obligatory. France made a failure of her American and Asiaticcolonies as long as she cherished schemes of European aggrandizement. Her period of colonial expansion, Algeria apart, did not come untilafter the Franco-Prussian War and the death of her ambition for a Rhinefrontier. Bismarck was opposed to colonial development because hebelieved that Germany should husband her strength for the preservationand the improvement of her standing in Europe; but Germany's power ofexpansion demanded some outlet during a period of European rest. Throughout the reign of the present Emperor she has been picking upcolonies wherever she could in Asia and Africa; and she cherishescertain plans for the extension of German influence in Asia Minor. It ischaracteristic of the ambiguous international position of Germany thatshe alone among the European Powers (except the peculiar case of Russia)is expectant of an increase of power both in Europe and othercontinents. 

In the long run Germany will, like France, discover that under existingconditions an aggressive colonial and aggressive European policy areincompatible. The more important her colonies become and the larger heroceanic commerce, the more Germany lays herself open to injury from astrong maritime power, and the more hostages she is giving for goodbehavior in Europe. Unless a nation controls the sea, colonies are froma military point of view a source of weakness. The colonizing nation isin the position of a merchant who increases his business by means of aconsiderable increase of his debts. His use of the borrowed capital maybe profitable, but none the less he makes his standing at the time of anemergency much more precarious. In the same way colonies add to theresponsibilities of a nation and scatter its military resources; and anation placed in such a situation is much less likely to break thepeace. 

The economic and political development of Asia and Africa by theEuropean Powers is in its infancy; and no certain predictions can bemade as to its final effects upon the political relations amongcivilized nations. Many important questions in respect thereto remainambiguous. What, for instance, are the limits of a practicable policy ofcolonial expansion? In view of her peculiar economic condition and herthreatened decrease in population have those limits been transgressed byFrance? Have they been transgressed by Great Britain? Considering theenormous increase in British responsibilities imposed by the maritimeexpansion of Germany, will not Great Britain be obliged to adopt apolicy of concentration rather than expansion? Is not her partialretirement from American waters the first step in such a policy? Is notthe Japanese alliance a dubious device for the partial shifting ofburdens too heavy to bear? How long can Great Britain afford to maintainher existing control of the sea? Is there any way of ending such acontrol save either by the absolute exhaustion of Great Britain or bythe establishment of a stable international system under adequateguarantees? Will the economic development of Asia lead to the awakeningof other Asiatic states like Japan, and the re-arrangement ofinternational relations for the purpose of giving them their appropriateplaces? A multitude of such questions are raised by the transformationwhich is taking place from a European international system into apolitical system composed chiefly of European nations, but embracing thewhole world; and these questions will prove to be sufficiently difficultof solution. But in spite of the certainty that colonial expansion willin the end merely transfer to a larger area the conflicts of idea andinterest whose effects have hitherto chiefly been confined to Europe--inspite of this certainty the process of colonial expansion is a whollylegitimate aspect of national development, and is not necessarilyinimical to the advance of democracy. It will not make immediately for apermanent international settlement; but it is accomplishing a workwithout which a permanent international settlement is impossible; and itindubitably places every colonizing nation in a situation which makesthe risk of hostilities dangerous compared to the possible advantages ofmilitary success. 

The chief object of this long digression, has, I hope, now beenachieved. My purpose has been to exhibit the European nations as a groupof historic individuals with purposes, opportunities, and limitationsanalogous to those of actual individuals. An individual has no meaningapart from the society in which his individuality has been formed. Anational state is capable of development only in relation to the societyof more or less nationalized states in the midst of which its historyhas been unfolded. The growing and maturing individual is he who comesto take a more definite and serviceable position in his surroundingsociety, --he who performs excellently a special work adapted to hisabilities. The maturing nation is in the same way the nation which iscapable of limiting itself to the performance of a practicable anduseful national work, --a work which in some specific respect acceleratesthe march of Christian civilization. There is no way in which a highertype of national life can be obtained without a corresponding individualimprovement on the part of its constituent members. There is similarlyno way in which a permanently satisfactory system of internationalrelations can be secured, save by the increasing historical experienceand effective self-control of related nations. Any country whichdeclares that it is too good (or too democratic) to associate with othernations and share the responsibilities and opportunities resulting fromsuch association is comparable to the individual who declares himself tobe too saintly for association with his fellow-countrymen. Whatever aman or a nation gains by isolation, he or it necessarily loses in thediscipline of experience with its possible fruits of wisdom andself-control. Association is a condition of individuality. Internationalrelations are a condition of nationality. A universal nation is as mucha contradiction in terms as a universal individual. A nation seeking todestroy other nations is analogous to a man who seeks to destroy thesociety in which he was born. Little by little European history has beenteaching this lesson; and in the course of time the correlation ofnational development with the improvement and definition ofinternational relations will probably be embodied in some set ofinternational institutions. 

In the meantime the existing rivalries and enmities among Europeanstates must not be under-estimated either in their significance or theirstrength. In a way those rivalries have become more intense than everbefore; and it is only too apparent that the many-headed rulers ofmodern nations are as capable of cherishing personal and nationaldislikes as were the sovereign kings of other centuries. These rivalriesand enmities will not be dissolved by kind words and noble sentiments. The federation of Europe, like the unification of Germany, will never bebrought about by congresses and amicable resolutions. It can be effectedonly by the same old means of blood and iron. The nations will neveragree upon a permanent settlement until they have more to gain frompeace than from military victory. But such a time will be postponed allthe longer unless the nations, like France, Italy, England and theUnited States, which are at present sincerely desirous of peace, keep aswell armed as their more belligerent neighbors. When the tug comes, theissue will depend upon the effective force which such nations, whenloyally combined, can exert. It would be fatal, consequently, for thepacific Powers to seek to establish peace by a partial diminution oftheir military efficiency. Such an action would merely encourage thebelligerent Powers to push their aggressive plans to the limit. Theformer must, on the contrary, keep as well armed as their resources andpolicy demand. Nationality is impaired and the national principle isviolated just as soon as a nation neglects any sort of efficiency whichis required either by its international position or by its nationalpurposes. 

CHAPTER IX

I

THE AMERICAN DEMOCRACY AND ITS NATIONAL PRINCIPLE

The foregoing review of the relation which has come to subsist in Europebetween nationality and democracy should help us to understand thepeculiar bond which unites the American democratic and nationalprinciples. The net result of that review was encouraging but notdecisive. As a consequence of their development as nations, the Europeanpeoples have been unable to get along without a certain infusion ofdemocracy; but it was for the most part essential to their nationalinterest that such an infusion should be strictly limited. In Europe thetwo ideals have never been allowed a frank and unconstrained relationone to the other other. They have been unable to live apart; but theirmarriage has usually been one of convenience, which was very far fromimplying complete mutual dependence and confidence. No doubt thecollective interests of the German or British people suffer because sucha lack of dependence and confidence exists; but their collectiveinterests would suffer more from a sudden or violent attempt to destroythe barriers. The nature and the history of the different democratic andnational movements in the several European countries at once tie themtogether and keep them apart. 

The peoples of Europe can only escape gradually from the large infusionof arbitrary and irrational material in their national composition. Monarchical and aristocratic traditions and a certain measure ofpolitical and social privilege have remained an essential part of theirnational lives; and no less essential was an element of defiance intheir attitude toward their European neighbors. Hence, when theprinciple of national Sovereignty was proclaimed as a substitute for theprincipal of royal Sovereignty, that principle really did not mean thesudden bestowal upon the people of unlimited Sovereign power. "The truepeople, " said Bismarck, in 1847, then a country squire, "is an invisiblemultitude of spirits. It is the living nation--the nation organized forits historical mission--the nation of yesterday and of to-morrow. " Anation, that is, is a people in so far as they are united by traditionsand purposes; and national Sovereignty implies an attachment to nationalhistory and traditions which permits only the very gradual alteration ofthese traditions in the direction of increasing democracy. The mistakewhich France made at the time of the French Revolution was preciselythat of interpreting the phrase "souvreneté nationale" as equivalent toimmediate, complete, and (in respect to the past) irresponsible popularsovereignty. 

The European nations are, consequently, not in a position to make theirnational ideals frankly and loyally democratic. Their national integritydepends upon fidelity to traditional ideas and forms quite as much as itdoes upon the gradual modification of those ideas and forms in ademocratic direction. The orderly unfolding of their national livescalls for a series of compromises which carry the fundamental democraticimplication of the national principle as far as it can under thecircumstances be safely carried; and in no other way does a peopleexhibit its political common sense so clearly as in its ability to becontemporary and progressive without breaking away from its historicalanchorage. A comparatively definite national mission and purpose clearlyemerge at some particular phase of the indefinite process of internaland external readjustment; but such a mission and such purposesnecessarily possess a limited significance and a special character. Restricted as they are by the facts of national history, they lack theultimate moral significance of the democratic ideal, which permits thetransformation of patriotic fidelity into devotion to the highest andmost comprehensive interests of humanity and civilization. 

That an analogous condition exists in our own country, it would be vainto deny. The American people possessed a collective character evenbefore they possessed a national organization; and both before and afterthe foundation of a national government, these common traditions were byno means wholly democratic. Furthermore, as we have frequently hadoccasion to observe, the American democracy in its traditional form hasmore often than not been anti-national in instinct and idea. Our owncountry has, consequently, a problem to solve, similar in certainrespects to that of the European nations. Its national cohesion is amatter of historical association, and the facts of its historicalassociation have resulted in a partial division and a misunderstandingbetween its two fundamental principles--the principles of nationalityand democracy. 

In the case of the United States there is, however, to be observed anessential difference. A nation, and particularly a European nation, cannot afford to become too complete a democracy all at once, because itwould thereby be uprooting traditions upon which its national cohesiondepends. But there is no reason why a democracy cannot trust itsinterests absolutely to the care of the national interest, and there isin particular every reason why the American democracy should become insentiment and conviction frankly, unscrupulously, and loyallynationalist. This, of course, is a heresy from the point of view of theAmerican democratic tradition; but it is much less of a heresy from thepoint of view of American political practice, and, whether heretical ornot, it indicates the road whereby alone the American people can obtainpolitical salvation. 

The American democracy can trust its interest to the national interest, because American national cohesion is dependent, not only upon certainforms of historical association, but upon fidelity to a democraticprinciple. A nation is a very complex political, social, and economicproduct--so complex that political thinkers in emphasizing one aspect ofit are apt to forget other and equally essential aspects. Its habits andtraditions of historical association constitute an indispensable bond;but they do not constitute the only bond. A specific national characteris more than a group of traditions and institutions. It tends to be aformative idea, which defines the situation of a country in reference toits neighbors, and which is constantly seeking a better articulation andunderstanding among the various parts of its domestic life. The Englishnational idea is chiefly a matter of freedom, but the principle offreedom is associated with a certain in measure of responsibility. TheGerman national idea is more difficult of precise description, but itturns upon the principle of efficient and expert official leadershiptoward what is as yet a hazy goal of national greatness. The Frenchnational idea is democratic, but its democracy is rendered difficult byFrench national insecurity, and its value is limited by its equalitarianbias. The French, like the American, democracy needs above all to bethoroughly nationalized; and a condition of such a result is the loyaladoption of democracy as the national idea. Both French and Americannational cohesion depend upon the fidelity of the national organizationto the democratic idea, and the gradual but intentional transformationof the substance of the national life in obedience to a democraticinterest. 

Let us seek for this complicated formula a specific application. How canit be translated into terms of contemporary American conditions? Well, in the first place, Americans are tied together by certain political, social, and economic habits, institutions, and traditions. From thepolitical point of view these forms of association are at onceconstitutional, Federal, and democratic. They are accustomed to somemeasure of political centralization, to a larger measure of localgovernmental responsibility, to a still larger measure of individualeconomic freedom. This group of political institutions and habits hasbeen gradually pieced together under the influence of varying politicalideas and conditions. It contains many contradictory ingredients, andnot a few that are positively dangerous to the public health. Such as itis, however, the American people are attached to this nationaltradition; and no part of it could be suddenly or violently transformedor mutilated without wounding large and important classes among theAmerican people, both in their interests and feelings. They have beenaccustomed to associate under certain conditions and on certain terms;and to alter in any important way those conditions and terms ofassociation without fair notice, full discussion, a demonstrable needand a sufficient consent of public opinion, would be to drive a wedgeinto the substance of American national cohesion. The American nation, no matter how much (or how little) it may be devoted to democraticpolitical and social ideas, cannot uproot any essential element in itsnational tradition without severe penalties--as the American peoplediscovered when they decided to cut negro slavery out of their nationalcomposition. 

On the other hand, their national health and consistency were in thelong run very much benefited by the surgical operation of the Civil War;and it was benefited because the War eradicated the most flagrantexisting contradiction among the various parts of the American nationaltradition. This instance sufficiently showed, consequently, thatalthough nationality has its traditional basis, it is far from beingmerely a conservative principle. At any one time the current of nationalpublic opinion embodies a temporary accommodation among the differenttraditional ideas, interests, conditions, and institutions. This balanceof varying and perhaps conflicting elements is constantly beingdestroyed by new conditions, --such, for instance, as the gradualincrease before the Civil War of the North as compared to the South inwealth, population, and industrial efficiency. The effect of thisdestruction of the traditional balance was to bring out thecontradiction between the institution of negro slavery and the Americandemocratic purpose--thereby necessitating an active conflict, and thetriumph of one of these principles over the other. The unionistdemocracy conquered, and as the result of that conquest a new balancewas reached between the various ingredients of American national life. During the past generation, the increased efficiency of organization inbusiness and politics, the enormous growth of an irresponsibleindividual money-power, the much more definite division of the Americanpeople into possibly antagonistic classes, and the pressing practicalneed for expert, responsible, and authoritative leadership, --these newconditions and demands have been by way of upsetting once more thetraditional national balance and of driving new wedges into Americannational cohesion. New contradictions have been developed betweenvarious aspects of the American national composition; and if theAmerican people wish to escape the necessity of regaining their healthby means of another surgical operation, they must consider carefully howmuch of a reorganization of traditional institutions, policy, and ideasare necessary for the achievement of a new and more stable nationalbalance. 

In the case of our own country, however, a balance is not to be struckmerely by the process of compromise in the interest of harmony. Ourforbears tried that method in dealing with the slavery problem from1820 to 1850, and we all know with what results. American nationalcohesion is a matter of national integrity; and national integrity is amatter of loyalty to the requirements of a democratic ideal. For betteror worse the American people have proclaimed themselves to be ademocracy, and they have proclaimed that democracy means populareconomic, social, and moral emancipation. The only way to regain theirnational balance is to remove those obstacles which the economicdevelopment of the country has placed in the path of a better democraticfulfillment. The economic and social changes of the past generation havebrought out a serious and a glaring contradiction between the demands ofa constructive democratic ideal and the machinery of methods andinstitutions, which have been considered sufficient for its realization. This is the fundamental discrepancy which must be at least partiallyeradicated before American national integrity can be triumphantlyre-affirmed. The cohesion, which is a condition of effectivenationality, is endangered by such a contradiction, and as long as itexists the different elements composing American society will be pullingapart rather than together. The national principle becomes a principleof reform and reconstruction, precisely because national consistency isconstantly demanding the solution of contradictory economic andpolitical tendencies, brought out by alterations in the conditions ofeconomic and political efficiency. Its function is not only to preservea balance among these diverse tendencies, but to make that balance morethan ever expressive of a consistent and constructive democratic ideal. Any disloyalty to democracy on the part of American national policywould in the end prove fatal to American national unity. 

The American democracy can, consequently, safely trust its genuineinterests to the keeping of those who represent the national interest. It both can do so, and it must do so. Only by faith in an efficientnational organization and by an exclusive and aggressive devotion to thenational welfare, can the American democratic ideal be made good. If theAmerican local commonwealths had not been wrought by the Federalistsinto the form of a nation, they would never have continued to bedemocracies; and the people collectively have become more of a democracyin proportion as they have become more of a nation. Their democracy isto be realized by means of an intensification of their national life, just as the ultimate moral purpose of an individual is to be realized bythe affirmation and intensification of its own better individuality. Consequently the organization of the American democracy into a nation isnot to be regarded in the way that so many Americans have regardedit, --as a necessary but hazardous surrender of certain liberties inorder that other liberties might be better preserved, --as a merecompromise between the democratic ideal and the necessary conditions ofpolitical cohesion and efficiency. Its nationalized politicalorganization constitutes the proper structure and veritable life of theAmerican democracy. No doubt the existing organization is far from beinga wholly adequate expression of the demands of the democratic ideal, butit falls equally short of being an adequate expression of the demands ofthe national ideal. The less confidence the American people have in anational organization, the less they are willing to surrender themselvesto the national spirit, the worse democrats they will be. The moststubborn impediments which block the American national advance issuefrom the imperfections in our democracy. The American people are notprepared for a higher form of democracy, because they are not preparedfor a more coherent and intense national life. When they are prepared tobe consistent, constructive, and aspiring democrats, their preparationwill necessarily take the form of becoming consistent, constructive, andaspiring nationalists. 

The difficulty raised by European political and economic developmenthangs chiefly on a necessary loyalty to a national tradition andorganization which blocks the advance of democracy. Americans cannotentirely escape this difficulty; but in our country by far the greaterobstacle to social amelioration is constituted by a democratic theoryand tradition, which blocks the process of national development. WeAmericans are confronted by two divergent theories of democracy. According to one of these theories, the interest of American democracycan be advanced only by an increasing nationalization of the Americanpeople in ideas, in institutions, and in spirit. According to the otherof these theories, the most effective way of injuring the interest ofdemocracy is by an increase in national authority and a spread of thenational leaven. Thus Americans, unlike Englishmen, have to choose, notbetween a specific and efficient national tradition and a vague andperilous democratic ideal--they have to choose between two democraticideals, and they have to make this choice chiefly on logical and moralgrounds. An Englishman or a German, no matter how clear his intelligenceor fervid his patriotism, cannot find any immediately and entirelysatisfactory method of reconciling the national traditions and forms oforganization with the demands of an uncompromising democracy. AnAmerican, on the other hand, has it quite within his power to accept aconception of democracy which provides for the substantial integrity ofhis country, not only as a nation with an exclusively democraticmission, but as a democracy with an essentially national career. 

II

NATIONALITY AND CENTRALIZATION

The Federal political organization has always tended to confuse to theAmerican mind the relation between democracy and nationality. The nationas a legal body was, of course, created by the Constitution, whichgranted to the central government certain specific powers andresponsibilities, and which almost to the same extent diminished thepowers and the responsibilities of the separate states. Consequently, tothe great majority of Americans, the process of increasingnationalization has a tendency to mean merely an increase in thefunctions of the central government. For the same reason the affirmationof a constructive relation between the national and the democraticprinciples is likely to be interpreted merely as an attempt on thegrounds of an abstract theory to limit state government and to disparagestates rights. Such an interpretation, however, would be essentiallyerroneous. It would be based upon the very idea against which I havebeen continually protesting--the idea that the American nation, insteadof embodying a living formative political principle, is merely thepolitical system created by the Federal Constitution; and it would endin the absurd conclusion that the only way in which the Promise ofAmerican democracy can be fulfilled would be by the abolition ofAmerican local political institutions. 

The nationalizing of American political, economic, and social life meanssomething more than Federal centralization and something very differenttherefrom. To nationalize a people has never meant merely to centralizetheir government. Little by little a thoroughly national politicalorganization has come to mean in Europe an organization which combinedeffective authority with certain responsibilities to the people; but thenational interest has been just as likely to demand de-centralization asit has to demand centralization. The Prussia of Frederick the Great, forinstance, was over-centralized; and the restoration of the nationalvitality, at which the Prussian government aimed after the disasters of1806, necessarily took the form of reinvigorating the local members ofthe national body. In this and many similar instances the nationalinterest and welfare was the end, and a greater or smaller amount ofcentralized government merely the necessary machinery. The process ofcentralization is not, like the process of nationalization, anessentially formative and enlightening political transformation. When apeople are being nationalized, their political, economic, and socialorganization or policy is being coördinated with their actual needs andtheir moral and political ideals. Governmental centralization is to beregarded as one of the many means which may or may not be taken in orderto effect this purpose. Like every other special aspect of the nationalorganization, it must be justified by its fruits. There is nopresumption in its favor. Neither is there any general presumptionagainst it. Whether a given function should or should not be exercisedby the central government in a Federal system is from the point of viewof political logic a matter of expediency--with the burden of proofresting on those who propose to alter any existing Constitutionalarrangement. 

It may be affirmed, consequently, without paradox, that among thosebranches of the American national organization which are greatly in needof nationalizing is the central government. Almost every member of theAmerican political body has been at one time or another or in one way oranother perverted to the service of special interests. The stategovernments and the municipal administrations have sinned more in thisrespect than the central government; but the central government itselfhas been a grave sinner. The Federal authorities are responsible for theprevailing policy in respect to military pensions, which is one of themost flagrant crimes ever perpetrated against the national interest. TheFederal authorities, again, are responsible for the existing tariffschedules, which benefit a group of special interests at the expense ofthe national welfare. The Federal authorities, finally, are responsiblefor the Sherman Anti-Trust Law, whose existence on the statute books isa fatal bar to the treatment of the problem of corporate aggrandizementfrom the standpoint of genuinely national policy. Those instances mightbe multiplied, but they suffice to show that the ideal of a constructiverelation between the American national and democratic principles doesnot imply that any particular piece of legislation or policy is nationalbecause it is Federal. The Federal no less than the state governmentshas been the victim of special interests; and when a group of state orcity officials effectively assert the public interest against theprivate interests, either of the machine or of the local corporations, they are noting just as palpably, if not just as comprehensively, forthe national welfare, as if their work benefited the whole Americanpeople. The process of nationalization in its application to Americanpolitical organization means that political power shall be distributedamong the central, state, and municipal officials in such a manner thatit can be efficiently and responsibly exerted in the interest of thoseaffected by its action. 

Be it added, however, in the same breath, that under existing conditionsand simply as a matter of expediency, the national advance of theAmerican democracy does demand an increasing amount of centralizedaction and responsibility. In what respect and for what purposes anincreased Federal power and responsibility is desirable will beconsidered in a subsequent chapter. In this connection it is sufficientto insist that a more scrupulous attention to existing Federalresponsibilities, and the increase of their number and scope, is thenatural consequence of the increasing concentration of Americanindustrial, political, and social life. American government demands morerather than less centralization merely and precisely because of thegrowing centralization of American activity. The state governments, either individually or by any practicable methods of coöperation, arenot competent to deal effectively in the national interest and spiritwith the grave problems created by the aggrandizement of corporate andindividual wealth and the increasing classification of the Americanpeople. They have, no doubt, an essential part to play in the attemptedsolution of these problems; and there are certain aspects of the wholesituation which the American nation, because of its Federalorganization, can deal with much more effectually than can a rigidlycentralized democracy like France. But the amount of responsibility inrespect to fundamental national problems, which, in law almost as muchas in practice, is left to the states, exceeds the responsibility whichthe state governments are capable of efficiently redeeming. They areattempting (or neglecting) a task which they cannot be expected toperform with any efficiency. 

The fact that the states fail properly to perform certain essentialfunctions such as maintaining order or administering justice, is nosufficient reason for depriving them thereof. Functions which should bebestowed upon the central government are not those which the stateshappen to perform badly. They are those which the states, even with thebest will in the world, cannot be expected to perform satisfactorily;and among these functions the regulation of commerce, the organizationof labor, and the increasing control over property in the publicinterest are assuredly to be included. The best friends of localgovernment in this country are those who seek to have its activityconfined with the limits of possible efficiency, because only in caseits activity is so confined can the states continue to remain anessential part of a really efficient and well-coördinated nationalorganization. 

Proposals to increase the powers of the central government are, however, rarely treated on their merits. They are opposed by the majority ofAmerican politicians and newspapers as an unqualified evil. Any attemptto prove that the existing distribution of responsibility is necessarilyfruitful of economic and political abuses, and that an increase ofcentralized power offers the only chance of eradicating these abuses istreated as irrelevant. It is not a question of the expediency of aspecific proposal, because from the traditional point of view anychange in the direction of increased centralization would be a violationof American democracy. Centralization is merely a necessary evil whichhas been carried as far as it should, and which cannot be carried anyfurther without undermining the foundations of the American system. Thusthe familiar theory of many excellent American democrats is rather thatof a contradictory than a constructive relation between the democraticand the national ideals. The process of nationalization is perverted bythem into a matter merely of centralization, but the question of thefundamental relation between nationality and democracy is raised bytheir attitude, because the reasons they advance against increasinglycentralized authority would, if they should continue to prevail, definitely and absolutely forbid a gradually improving coördinationbetween American political organization and American national economicneeds or moral and intellectual ideals. The conception of democracy outof which the supposed contradiction between the democratic and nationalideals issues is the great enemy of the American national advance, andis for that reason the great enemy of the real interests of democracy. 

To be sure, any increase in centralized power and responsibility, expedient or inexpedient, is injurious to certain aspects of traditionalAmerican democracy. But the fault in that case lies with the democratictradition; and the erroneous and misleading tradition must yield beforethe march of a constructive national democracy. The national advancewill always be impeded by these misleading and erroneous ideas, and, what is more, it always should be impeded by them, because at bottomideas of this kind are merely an expression of the fact that the averageAmerican individual is morally and intellectually inadequate to aserious and consistent conception of his responsibilities as a democrat. An American national democracy must always prove its right to a furtheradvance, not only by the development of a policy and method adequate forthe particular occasion, but by its ability to overcome the inevitableopposition of selfish interests and erroneous ideas. The logic of itsposition makes it the aggressor, just as the logic of its opponents'position ties them to a negative and protesting or merely insubordinatepart. If the latter should prevail, their victory would becometantamount to national dissolution, either by putrefaction, byrevolution, or by both. 

Under the influence of certain practical demands, an increase hasalready taken place in the activity of the Federal government. Theincrease has not gone as far as governmental efficiency demands, but ithas gone far enough to provoke outbursts of protest and anguish from the"old-fashioned Democrats. " They profess to see the approachingextinction of the American democracy in what they call the drift towardscentralization. Such calamitous predictions are natural, but they arenone the less absurd. The drift of American politics--its instinctiveand unguided movement--is almost wholly along the habitual road; and anyeffective increase of Federal centralization can be imposed only by moststrenuous efforts, by one of the biggest sticks which has ever beenflourished in American politics. The advance made in this direction issmall compared to the actual needs of an efficient nationalorganization, and considering the mass of interest and prejudice whichit must continue to overcome, it can hardly continue to progress at morethan a snail's pace. The great obstacle to American national fulfillmentmust always be the danger that the American people will merely succumbto the demands of their local and private interests and will permittheir political craft to drift into a compromising situation--from whichthe penalties of rescue may be almost as distressing as the penalties ofsubmission. 

The tradition of an individualist and provincial democracy, which is themainstay of an anti-national policy, does not include ideals which haveto be realized by aggressive action. Their ideals are the ones embodiedin our existing system, and their continued vitality demands merely apolicy of inaction enveloped in a cloud of sacred phrases. The advocatesand the beneficiaries of the prevailing ideas and conditions are littleby little being forced into the inevitable attitude of the traditionalBourbon--the attitude of maintaining customary or legal rights merelybecause they are customary or legal, and predicting the most awfulconsequences from any attempt to impair them. Men, or associations ofmen, who possess legal or customary rights inimical to the publicwelfare, always defend those rights as the essential part of a politicalsystem, which, if it is overthrown, will prove destructive to publicprosperity and security. On no other ground can they find a plausiblepublic excuse for their opposition. The French royal authority andaristocratic privileges were defended on these grounds in 1780, and asthe event proved, with some show of reason. In the same way the partiallegislative control of nationalized corporations now exercised by thestate government, is defended, not on the ground that it has been wellexercised, not even plausibly on the ground that it can be wellexercised. It is defended almost exclusively on the ground that anyincrease in the authority of the Federal government is dangerous to theAmerican people. But the Federal government belongs to the Americanpeople even more completely than do the state governments, because ageneral current of public opinion can act much more effectively on thesingle Federal authority than it can upon the many separate stateauthorities. Popular interests have nothing to fear from a measure ofFederal centralization, which bestows on the Federal government powersnecessary to the fulfillment of its legitimate responsibilities; and theAmerican people cannot in the long run be deceived by pleas which bearthe evidence of such a selfish origin and have such dubious historicalassociations. The rights and the powers both of states and individualsmust be competent to serve their purposes efficiently in an economicaland coherent national organization, or else they must be superseded. Aprejudice against centralization is as pernicious, providedcentralization is necessary, as a prejudice in its favor. All rightsunder the law are functions in a democratic political organism and mustbe justified by their actual or presumable functional adequacy. 

The ideal of a constructive relation between American nationality andAmerican democracy is in truth equivalent to a new Declaration ofIndependence. It affirms that the American people are free to organizetheir political, economic, and social life in the service of acomprehensive, a lofty, and far-reaching democratic purpose. At thepresent time there is a strong, almost a dominant tendency to regard theexisting Constitution with superstitious awe, and to shrink with horrorfrom modifying it even in the smallest detail; and it is thissuperstitious fear of changing the most trivial parts of the fundamentallegal fabric which brings to pass the great bondage of the Americanspirit. If such an abject worship of legal precedent for its own sakeshould continue, the American idea will have to be fitted to the rigidand narrow lines of a few legal formulas; and the ruler of the Americanspirit, like the ruler of the Jewish spirit of old, will become thelawyer. But it will not continue, in case Americans can be brought tounderstand and believe that the American national political organizationshould be constructively related to their democratic purpose. Such anideal reveals at once the real opportunity and the real responsibilityof the American democracy. It declares that the democracy has amachinery in a nationalized organization, and a practical guide in thenational interest, which are adequate to the realization of thedemocratic ideal; and it declares also that in the long run just in sofar as Americans timidly or superstitiously refuse to accept theirnational opportunity and responsibility, they will not deserve the nameseither of freemen or of loyal democrats. There comes a time in thehistory of every nation, when its independence of spirit vanishes, unless it emancipates itself in some measure from its traditionalillusions; and that time is fast approaching for the American people. They must either seize the chance of a better future, or else become anation which is satisfied in spirit merely to repeat indefinitely themonotonous measures of its own past. 

III

THE PEOPLE AND THE NATION

At the beginning of this discussion popular Sovereignty was declared tobe the essential condition of democracy; and a general account of thenature of a constructive democratic ideal can best be brought to a closeby a definition of the meaning of the phrase, popular Sovereignty, consistent with a nationalist interpretation of democracy. The peopleare Sovereign; but who and what are the people? and how can amany-headed Sovereignty be made to work? Are we to answer, likeBismarck, that the "true people is an invisible multitude ofspirits--the nation of yesterday and of to-morrow"? Such an answer seemsscarcely fair to living people of to-day. On the other hand, can wereply that the Sovereign people is constituted by any chance majoritywhich happens to obtain control of the government, and that thedecisions and actions of the majority are inevitably and unexceptionallydemocratic? Such an assertion of the doctrine of popular Sovereigntywould bestow absolute Sovereign authority on merely a part of thepeople. Majority rule, under certain prescribed conditions, is anecessary constituent of any practicable democratic organization; butthe actions or decisions of a majority need not have any binding moraland national authority. Majority rule is merely one means to anextremely difficult, remote and complicated end; and it is a piece ofmachinery which is peculiarly liable to get out of order. Its arbitraryand dangerous tendencies can, as a matter of fact, be checked in manyeffectual and legitimate ways, of which the most effectual is thecherishing of a tradition, partly expressed in some body of fundamentallaw, that the true people are, as Bismarck declared, in some measure aninvisible multitude of spirits--the nation of yesterday and to-morrow, organized for its national historical mission. 

The phrase popular Sovereignty is, consequently, for us Americansequivalent to the phrase "national Sovereignty. " The people are notSovereign as individuals. They are not Sovereign in reason and moralseven when united into a majority. They become Sovereign only in so faras they succeed in reaching and expressing a collective purpose. Butthere is no royal and unimpeachable road to the attainment of such acollective will; and the best means a democratic people can take inorder to assert its Sovereign authority with full moral effect is toseek fullness and consistency of national life. They are Sovereign in sofar as they are united in spirit and in purpose; and they are united inso far as they are loyal one to another, to their joint past, and to thePromise of their future. The Promise of their future may sometimesdemand the partial renunciation of their past and the partial sacrificeof certain present interests; but the inevitable friction of all suchsacrifices can be mitigated by mutual loyalty and good faith. Sacrificesof tradition and interest can only be demanded in case they contributeto the national purpose--to the gradual creation of a higher type ofindividual and associated life. Hence it is that an effective increasein national coherence looks in the direction of the democraticconsummation--of the morally and intellectually authoritative expressionof the Sovereign popular will. Both the forging and the functioning ofsuch a will are constructively related to the gradual achievement of thework of individual and social amelioration. 

Undesirable and inadequate forms of democracy always seek to dispense inone way or another with this tedious process of achieving a morallyauthoritative Sovereign will. We Americans have identified democracywith certain existing political and civil rights, and we have, consequently, tended to believe that the democratic consummation wasmerely a matter of exercising and preserving those rights. The grossestform of this error was perpetrated when Stephen A. Douglas confusedauthoritative popular Sovereignty with the majority vote of a fewhundred "squatters" in a frontier state, and asserted that on democraticprinciples such expressions of the popular will should be accepted asfinal. But an analogous mistake lurks in all static forms of democracy. The bestowal and the exercise of political and civil rights are merely amethod of organization, which if used in proper subordination to theultimate democratic purpose, may achieve in action something of theauthority of a popular Sovereign will. But to cleave to the details ofsuch an organization as the very essence of democracy is utterly topervert the principle of national democratic Sovereignty. From thispoint of view, the Bourbon who wishes the existing system with itsmal-adaptations and contradictions preserved in all its lack ofintegrity, commits an error analogous to that of the radical, who wishesby virtue of a majority vote immediately to destroy some essential partof the fabric. Both of them conceive that the whole moral and nationalauthority of the democratic principle can be invoked in favor ofinstitutions already in existence or of purposes capable of immediateachievement. 

On the other hand, there are democrats who would seek a consummatedemocracy without the use of any political machinery. The idea that ahigher type of associated life can be immediately realized by a supremeact of faith must always be tempting to men who unite social aspirationswith deep religious faith. It is a more worthy and profound conceptionof democracy than the conventional American one of a system of legallyconstituted and equally exercised rights, fatally resulting in materialprosperity. Before any great stride can be made towards a condition ofbetter democracy, the constructive democratic movement must obtain moreeffective support both from scientific discipline and religious faith. Nevertheless, the triumph of Tolstoyan democracy at the present momentwould be more pernicious in its results than the triumph of JeffersonianDemocracy. Tolstoy has merely given a fresh and exalted version of theold doctrine of non-resistance, which, as it was proclaimed by Jesus, referred in the most literal way to another world. In this world faithcannot dispense with power and organization. The sudden and immediateconversion of unregenerate men from a condition of violence, selfishness, and sin into a condition of beatitude and brotherly lovecan obtain even comparative permanence only by virtue of exclusiveness. The religious experience of our race has sufficiently testified to thepermanence of the law. One man can be evangelized for a lifetime. Agroup of men can be evangelized for many years. Multitudes of men can beevangelized only for a few hours. No faith can achieve comparativelystable social conquests without being established by habit, defined bythought, and consolidated by organization. Usually the faith itselfsubsequently sickens of the bad air it breathes in its own house. Indeed, it is certain to lose initiative and vigor, unless it can appealintermittently to some correlative source of enthusiasm and devotion. But with the help of efficient organization it may possibly survive, whereas in the absence of such a worldly body, it must in a worldlysense inevitably perish. Democracy as a living movement in the directionof human brotherhood has required, like other faiths, an efficientorganization and a root in ordinary human nature; and it obtains such anorganization by virtue of the process of national development--oncondition, of course, that the nation is free to become a genuine andthorough-going democracy. 

A democracy organized into a nation, and imbued with the nationalspirit, will seek by means of experimentation and discipline to reachthe object which Tolstoy would reach by an immediate and a miraculousact of faith. The exigencies of such schooling frequently demand severecoercive measures, but what schooling does not? A nation cannot merelydischarge its unregenerate citizens; and the best men in a nation or inany political society cannot evade the responsibility which the fact ofhuman unregeneracy places upon the whole group. After men had reached acertain stage of civilization, they frequently began to fear that therough conditions of political association excluded the highest and mostfruitful forms of social life; and they sought various ways of improvingthe quality of the association by narrowing its basis. They tried tofound small communities of saints who were connected exclusively bymoral and religious bonds, and who in this way freed themselves from thehazards, the distraction, and the violence inseparable from politicalassociation. Such communities have made at different times greatsuccesses; but their success has not been permanent. The politicalaspect of associated life is not to be evaded. In proportion aspolitical organization gained in prosperity, efficiency, and dignity, special religious associations lost their independence and power. Eventhe most powerful religious association in the world, the CatholicChurch, has been fighting a losing battle with political authority, andit is likely in the course of time to occupy in relation to thepolitical powers a position analogous to that of the Greek or theEnglish church. The ultimate power to command must rest with thatauthority which, if necessary, can force people to obey; and any plan ofassociation which seeks to ignore the part which physical force plays inlife is necessarily incomplete. Just as formerly the irresponsible andmeaningless use of political power created the need of special religiousassociations, independent of the state, so now the responsible, thepurposeful, and the efficient use of physical force, characteristic ofmodern nations, has in its turn made such independence less necessary, and tends to attach a different function to the church. A basis ofassociation narrower than the whole complex of human powers andinterests will not serve. National organization provides such a basis. The perversity of human nature may cause its ultimate failure; but itwill not fail because it omits any essential constituent in thecomposition of a permanent and fruitful human association. So far as itfulfills its responsibilities, it guarantees protection againstpredatory powers at home and abroad. It provides in appropriate measurefor individual freedom, for physical, moral, and intellectualdiscipline, and for social consistency. It has prizes to offer as wellas coercion to exercise; and with its foundations planted firmly in thepast, its windows and portals look out towards a better future. Thetendency of its normal action is continually, if very slowly, todiminish the distance between the ideal of human brotherhood, and thepolitical, economic, and social conditions, under which at any one timemen manage to live together. 

That is the truth to which the patriotic Americans should firmly cleave. The modern nation, particularly in so far as it is constructivelydemocratic, constitutes the best machinery as yet developed for raisingthe level of human association. It really teaches men how they mustfeel, what they must think, and what they must do, in order that theymay live together amicably and profitably. The value of this school forits present purposes is increased by its very imperfections, because itsimperfections issue inevitably from the imperfections of human nature. Men being as unregenerate as they are, all worthy human endeavorinvolves consequences of battle and risk. The heroes of the strugglemust maintain their achievements and at times even promote their objectsby compulsion. The policeman and the soldier will continue for anindefinite period to be guardians of the national schools, and thenations have no reason to be ashamed of this fact. It is merely symbolicof the very comprehensiveness of their responsibilities--that they haveto deal with the problem of human inadequacy and unregeneracy in all itsforms, --that they cannot evade this problem by allowing only the goodboys to attend school--that they cannot even mitigate it by drawing toosharp a distinction between the good boys and the bad. Suchindiscriminate attendance in these national schools, if it is to beedifying, involves one practical consequence of dominant importance. Everybody within the school-house--masters, teachers, pupils andjanitors, old pupils and young, good pupils and bad, must feel one toanother an indestructible loyalty. Such loyalty is merely the subjectiveaspect of their inevitable mutual association; it is merely therecognition that as a worldly body they must all live or die and conqueror fail together. The existence of an invincible loyalty is a conditionof the perpetuity of the school. The man who believes himself wise isalways tempted to ignore or undervalue the foolish brethren. The man whobelieves himself good is always tempted actively to dislike the perversebrethren. The man who insists at any cost upon having his own way isalways twisting the brethren into his friends or his enemies. But theteaching of the national school constantly tends to diminish thesecauses of disloyalty. Its tendency is to convert traditional patriotisminto a patient devotion to the national ideal, and into a patientloyalty towards one's fellow-countrymen as the visible and inevitablesubstance through which that ideal is to be expressed. 

In the foregoing characteristic of a democratic nation, we reach thedecisive difference between a nation which is seeking to be whollydemocratic and a nation which is content to be semi-democratic. In thesemi-democratic nation devotion to the national ideal does not to thesame extent sanctify the citizen's relation in feeling and in idea tohis fellow-countrymen. The loyalty demanded by the national ideal ofsuch a country may imply a partly disloyal and suspicious attitudetowards large numbers of political associates. The popular and thenational interests must necessarily in some measure diverge. In anationalized democracy or a democratic nation the corresponding dilemmais mitigated. The popular interest can only be efficiently expressed ina national policy and organization. The national interest is merely amore coherent and ameliorating expression of the popular interest. Itsconsistency, so far as it is consistent, is the reflection of a morehumanized condition of human nature. It increases with the increasingpower of its citizens to deal fairly and to feel loyally towards theirfellow-countrymen; and it cannot increase except through the overthrowof the obstacles to fair dealing and loyal feeling. 

The responsibility and loyalty which the citizens of a democratic nationmust feel one towards another is comprehensive and unmitigable; but theactual behavior which at any one time the national welfare demands must, of course, be specially and carefully discriminated. National policiesand acts will be welcome to some citizens and obnoxious to others, according to their special interests and opinions; and the citizenswhose interests and ideas are prejudiced thereby have every right andshould be permitted every opportunity to protest in the most vigorousand persistent manner. The nation may, however, on its part demand thatthese protests, in order to be heeded and respected, must conform tocertain conditions. They must not be carried to the point of refusingobedience to the law. When private interests are injured by the nationalpolicy, the protestants must be able to show either that such injuriesare unnecessary, or else they involve harm to an essential publicinterest. All such protest must find an ultimate sanction in a group ofconstructive democratic ideas. Finally, the protest must never be madethe excuse for personal injustice or national disloyalty. Even if thenational policy should betray indifference to the fundamental interestsof a democratic nation, as did that of the United States from 1820 to1860, the obligation of patient good faith on the part of theprotestants is not diminished. Their protests may be as vivacious and aspersistent as the error demands. The supporters of the erroneous policymay be made the object of most drastic criticism and the uncompromisingexposure. No effort should be spared to secure the adoption of a moregenuinely national policy. But beyond all this there remains a stilldeeper responsibility--that of dealing towards one's fellow-countrymenin good faith, so that differences of interest, of conviction, and ofmoral purpose can be made the agency of a better understanding and afirmer loyalty. 

If a national policy offends the integrity of the national idea, as fora while that of the American nation did, its mistake is sure to involvecertain disastrous consequences; and those consequences constitute, usually, the vehicle of necessary national discipline. The nationalschool is, of course, the national life. So far as the school isproperly conducted, the methods of instruction are, if you please, pedagogic; but if the masters are blind or negligent, or if the scholarsare unruly, there remains as a resource the more painful and costlymethods of nature's instruction. A serious error will be followed by itsinevitable penalty, proportioned to the blindness and the perversity inwhich it originated; and thereafter the prosperity of the country'sfuture will hang partly on the ability of the national intelligence totrace the penalty to its cause and to fix the responsibility. No matterhow loyal the different members of a national body may be one toanother, their mutual good faith will bleed to death, unless some amongthem have the intelligence to trace their national ills to theirappropriate causes, and the candid courage to advocate the necessaryremedial measures. At some point in the process, disinterestedpatriotism and good faith must be reënforced by intellectual insight. Apeople are saved many costly perversions, in case the officialschool-masters are wise, and the pupils neither truant norinsubordinate; but if the lessons are foolishly phrased, or the pupilsrefuse to learn, the school will never regain its proper disciplinaryvalue until new teachers have arisen, who understand both the error andits consequences, and who can exercise an effective authority over theirpupils. 

The mutual loyalty and responsibility, consequently, embodied andinculcated in a national school, depends for its efficient expressionupon the amount of insight and intelligence which it involves. Theprocess of national education means, not only a discipline of thepopular will, but training in ability to draw inferences from thenational experience, so that the national consciousness will graduallyacquire an edifying state of mind towards its present and its futureproblems. Those problems are always closely allied to the problems whichhave been more or less completely solved during the national history;and the body of practical lessons which can be inferred from thathistory is the best possible preparation for present and futureemergencies. Such history requires close and exact reading. The nationalexperience is always strangely mixed. Even the successes of our ownpast, such as the Federal organization, contain much dubious matter, demanding the most scrupulous disentanglement. Even the worst enemies ofour national integrity, such as the Southern planters, offer in somerespects an edifying political example to a disinterested democracy. Nations do not have to make serious mistakes in order to learn valuablelessons. Every national action, no matter how trivial, which isscrutinized with candor, may contribute to the stock of nationalintellectual discipline--the result of which should be to form aconstantly more coherent whole out of the several elements in thenational composition--out of the social and economic conditions, thestock of national opinions, and the essential national ideal. And it isthis essential national ideal which makes it undesirable for thenational consciousness to dwell too much on the past or to depend toomuch upon the lessons of experience alone. The great experience given toa democratic nation must be just an incorrigible but patient attempt torealize its democratic ideal--an attempt which must mold history as wellas hang upon its lessons. The function of the patriotic politicalintelligence in relation to the fulfillment of the national Promise mustbe to devise means for its redemption--means which have their relationsto the past, their suitability to the occasion, and their contributiontowards a step in advance. The work in both critical, experienced, andpurposeful. Mistakes will be made, and their effects either corrected orturned to good account. Successes will be achieved, and their effectsmust be coolly appraised and carefully discriminated. The task willnever be entirely achieved, but the tedious and laborious advance willfor every generation be a triumphant affirmation of the nationalizeddemocratic ideal as the one really adequate political and socialprinciple. 

CHAPTER X

I

A NATIONAL FOREIGN POLICY

The logic of a national democratic ideal and the responsibilities of anational career in the world involve a number of very definiteconsequences in respect to American foreign policy. They involve, infact, a conception of the place of a democratic nation in relation tothe other civilized nations, different from that which has hithertoprevailed in this country. Because of their geographical situation andtheir democratic institutions, Americans have claimed and still claim alarge degree of national aloofness and independence; but such a claimcould have been better defended several generations ago than it canto-day. Unquestionably the geographical situation of the United Statesmust always have a decisive effect upon the nature of its policy inforeign affairs; and undoubtedly no course of action in respect to othernations can be national without serving the interests of democracy. Butprecisely because an American foreign policy must be candidly andvigorously national, it will gradually bring with it an increasinglycomplicated group of international ties and duties. The American nation, just in so far as it believes in its nationality and is ready to becomemore of a nation, must assume a more definite and a more responsibleplace in the international system. It will have an increasinglyimportant and an increasingly specific part to play in the politicalaffairs of the world; and, in spite of "old-fashioned democratic"scruples and prejudices, the will to play that part for all it is worthwill constitute a beneficial and a necessary stimulus to the betterrealization of the Promise of our domestic life. 

A genuinely national policy must, of course, be based upon a correctunderstanding of the national interest in relation to those of itsneighbors and associates. That American policy did obtain such afoundation during the early years of American history is to be traced tothe sound political judgment of Washington and Hamilton. Jefferson andthe Republicans did their best for a while to persuade the Americandemocracy to follow the dangerous course of the French democracy, and tobase its international policy not upon the firm ground of nationalinterest, but on the treacherous sands of international democraticpropagandism. After a period of hesitation, the American people, withtheir usual good sense in the face of a practical emergency, rallied tothe principles subsequently contained in Washington's Farewell Address;and the Jeffersonian Republicans, when they came into control of theFederal government, took over this conception of American nationalpolicy together with the rest of the Federalist outfit. But like therest of the Federalist organization and ideas, the national foreignpolicy was emasculated by the expression it received at the hands of theRepublicans. The conduct of American foreign affairs during the firstfifteen years of the century are an illustration of the ills which maybefall a democracy during a critical international period, when itsforeign policy is managed by a party of anti-national patriots. 

After 1815 the foreign policy of the United States was determined by astrict adherence to the principles enunciated in Washington's FarewellAddress. The adherence was more in the letter than in the spirit, andthe ordinary popular interpretation, which prevails until the presentday, cannot be granted undivided approval; but so far as its immediateproblems were concerned, American foreign policy did not, on the whole, go astray. The United States kept resolutely clear of Europeanentanglements, and did not participate in international councils, exceptwhen the rights of neutrals were under discussion; and this persistentneutrality was precisely the course which was needed in order to confirmthe international position of the country as well as to leave the roadclear for its own national development. But certain consequences were atan early date deduced from a neutral policy which require more carefulexamination. During the presidency of Monroe the systematic isolation ofthe United States in respect to Europe was developed, so far as the twoAmericas were concerned, into a more positive doctrine. It wasproclaimed that abstention on the part of the United States fromEuropean affairs should be accompanied by a corresponding abstention bythe European Powers from aggressive action in the two Americas. What ourgovernment proposed to do was to divide sharply the democratic politicalsystem of the Americas from the monarchical and aristocratic politicalsystem of Europe. The European system, based as it was upon royalistlegitimacy and privileges, and denying as it did popular politicalrights, was declared to be inimical in spirit and in effect to theAmerican democratic state. 

The Monroe Doctrine has been accepted in this form ever since as anindisputable corollary of the Farewell Address. The American people andpoliticians cherish it as a priceless political heirloom. It isconsidered to be the equivalent of the Declaration of Independence inthe field of foreign affairs; and it arouses an analogous volume andfury of conviction. Neither is this conviction merely the property ofFourth-of-July Americans. Our gravest publicists usually contribute tothe Doctrine a no less emphatic adherence; and not very many years agoone of the most enlightened of American statesmen asserted that Americanforeign policy as a whole could be sufficiently summed up in the phrase, "The Monroe Doctrine and the Golden Rule. " Does the Monroe Doctrine, asstated above, deserve such uncompromising adherence? Is it an adequateexpression of the national interest of the American democracy in thefield of foreign affairs?

At the time the Monroe Doctrine was originally proclaimed, it didunquestionably express a valid national interest of the Americandemocracy. It was the American retort to the policy of the Holy Alliancewhich sought to erect the counter-revolutionary principles into aninternational system, and which suppressed, so far as possible, allnationalist or democratic agitation. The Spanish-American colonies hadbeen winning their independence from Spain; and there was a fear, notentirely ill-founded, that the Alliance would apply its anti-democraticinternational policy to the case of Spain's revolted colonies. Obviouslythe United States, both as a democracy and as a democracy which had wonits independence by means of a revolutionary war, could not admit theright of any combination of European states to suppress national anddemocratic uprisings on the American continents. Our government wouldhave been wholly justified in resisting such interference with all itsavailable military force. But in what sense and upon what grounds wasthe United States justified in going farther than this, and in assertingthat under no circumstances should there be any increase of Europeanpolitical influence upon the American continents? What is the proprietyand justice of such a declaration of continental isolation? What are itsimplications? And what, if any, are its dangers?

In seeking an answer to these questions we must return to the source ofAmerican foreign policy in the Farewell Address. That address containsthe germ of a prudent and wise American national policy; but Hamilton, in preparing its phrasing, was guided chiefly by a consideration of theimmediate needs and dangers of his country. The Jeffersonian Republicansin their enthusiasm for the French Revolution proposed for a while tobring about a permanent alliance between France and the United States, the object whereof should be the propagation of the democratic politicalfaith. Both Washington and Hamilton saw clearly that such behavior wouldentangle the United States in all the vicissitudes and turmoil whichmight attend the development of European democracy; and their favoritepolicy of neutrality and isolation implied both that the nationalinterest of the United States was not concerned in merely Europeancomplications, and that the American people, unlike those of France, didnot propose to make their political principles an excuse forinternational aggression. The Monroe Doctrine, as proclaimed in 1825, rounded out this negative policy with a more positive assertion ofprinciples. It declared that the neutrality of the American democracy, so far as Europe was concerned, must be balanced by the non-interventionof European legitimacy and aristocracy in the affairs of the Americancontinents. Now this extension of American foreign policy was, as wehave seen, justified, in so far as it was a protest against any possibleinterference on the part of the Holy Alliance in American politics. Itwas, moreover, justified in so far as it sought to identify theattainment of a desirable democratic purpose with American internationalpolicy. Of course Hamilton, when he tried to found the internationalpolicy of his country upon the national interest, wholly failed toidentify that interest with any positive democratic purpose; but inthis, as in other respects, Hamilton was not a thorough-going democrat. While he was right in seeking to prevent the American people fromallying themselves with the aggressive French democracy, he was wrong infailing to foresee that the national interest of the United States wasidentified with the general security and prosperity of liberal politicalinstitutions--that the United States must by every practical meansencourage the spread of democratic methods and ideas. As much in foreignas in domestic affairs must the American people seek to unite nationalefficiency with democratic idealism. The Monroe Doctrine, consequently, is not to be condemned, as it has been condemned, merely because it wentfar beyond the limited foreign policy of Hamilton. The real question inregard to the Doctrine is whether it seeks in a practicable way--in away consistent with the national interest and inevitable internationalresponsibilities--the realization of the democratic idea. Do the rigidadvocates of that Doctrine fall into an error analogous to the erroragainst which Washington and Hamilton were protesting? Do they not tend, indirectly, and within a limited compass, to convert the Americandemocratic idea into a dangerously aggressive principle?

The foregoing question must, I believe, be answered partly in theaffirmative. The Monroe Doctrine, as usually stated, does give adangerously militant tendency to the foreign policy of the UnitedStates; and unless its expression is modified, it may prevent the UnitedStates from occupying a position towards the nations of Europe andAmerica in conformity with its national interest and its nationalprinciple. It should be added, however, that this unwholesomelyaggressive quality is only a tendency, which will not become activeexcept under certain possible conditions, and which can gradually berendered less dangerous by the systematic development of the Doctrine asa positive principle of political action in the Western hemisphere. 

The Monroe Doctrine has, of course, no status in the accepted system ofInternational Law. Its international standing is due almost entirely toits express proclamation as an essential part of the foreign policy ofthe United States, and it depends for its weight upon the ability ofthis country to compel its recognition by the use of latent or actualmilitary force. Great Britain has, perhaps, tacitly accepted it, but noother European country has done so, and a number of them have expresslystated that it entails consequences against which they might sometime beobliged strenuously and forcibly to protest. No forcible protest has asyet been made, because no European country has had anything to gain fromsuch a protest, comparable to the inevitable cost of a war with theUnited States. 

The dangerously aggressive tendency of the Monroe Doctrine is not due tothe fact that it derives its standing from the effective military powerof the United States. The recognition which any proclamation of aspecific principle of foreign policy receives will depend, in case itconflicts with the actual or possible interests of other nations, uponthe military and naval power with which it can be maintained. Thequestion as to whether a particular doctrine is unwholesomely aggressivedepends, consequently, not upon the mere fact that it may provoke a war, but upon the doubt that, if it provokes a war, such a war can berighteously fought. Does the Doctrine as usually stated, possibly orprobably commit the United States to an unrighteous war--a war in whichthe United States would be opposing a legitimate interest on the part ofone or a group of European nations? Does an American foreign policy ofthe "Monroe Doctrine and the Golden Rule" proclaim two parallel springsof national action in foreign affairs which may prove to beincompatible?

There is a danger that such may be the case. The Monroe Doctrine in itsmost popular form proclaims a rigid policy of continental isolation--ofAmerica for the Americans and of Europe for the Europeans. Europeannations may retain existing possessions in the Americas, but suchpossessions must not be increased. So far, so good. A European nation, which sought defiantly to increase its American possessions, in spite ofthe express declaration of the United States that such action would meanwar, would deserve the war thereby incurred. But there are many ways ofincreasing the political influence of European Powers in the Americaswithout actual territorial appropriation. The emigration from severalEuropean states and from Japan to South America is alreadyconsiderable, and is likely to increase rather than diminish. Europeancommercial interests in South America are greater than ours, and in thefuture will become greater still. The South Americans have alreadyborrowed large quantities of European capital, and will need more. Theindustrial and agricultural development of the South American states isconstantly tying them more closely to Europe than it is to the UnitedStates. It looks, consequently, as if irresistible economic conditionswere making in favor of an increase of effective European influence inSouth America. The growth of that influence is part of theworld-movement in the direction of the better utilization of theeconomic resources of mankind. South America cannot develop without thebenefits of European capital, additional European labor, Europeanproducts, and European experience and training; and in the course ofanother few generations the result will be a European investment inSouth America, which may in a number of different ways involve politicalcomplications. We have already had a foretaste of those consequences inthe steps which the European Powers took a few years ago to collectdebts due to Europeans by Venezuela. 

The increasing industrial, social, and financial bonds might not haveany serious political consequences, provided the several South Americanstates were possessed of stable governments, orderly politicaltraditions, and a political standing under definite treaties similar tothat of the smaller European states. But such is not the case. The alieninvestment in South America may involve all sorts of politicalcomplications which would give European or Asiatic Powers a justifiableright under the law of nations to interfere. Up to the present time, aswe have seen, such interference has promised to be too costly; but thetime may well come when the advantages of interference will more thancounterbalance the dangers of a forcible protest. Moreover, in case sucha protest were made, it might not come from any single European Power. Ageneral European interest would be involved. The United States mightwell find her policy of America for the Americans result in an attempton the part of a European coalition to bring about a really effectualisolation. We might find ourselves involved in a war against asubstantially united Europe. Such a danger seems sufficiently remote atpresent; but in the long run a policy which carries isolation too far isbound to provoke justifiable attempts to break it down. If Europe andthe Americas are as much divided in political interest as the MonroeDoctrine seems to assert, the time will inevitably arrive when the twodivergent political systems must meet and fight; and plenty of occasionsfor such a conflict will arise, as soon as the policy of isolationbegins to conflict with the establishment of that political relationbetween Europe and South America demanded by fundamental economic andsocial interests. Thus under certain remote but entirely possibleconditions, the Doctrine as now proclaimed and practiced might justifyEurope in seeking to break it down by reasons at least as valid as thoseof our own country in proclaiming it. 

But if the Monroe Doctrine could only be maintained by a war of thiskind, or a succession of wars, it would defeat the very purpose which itis supposed to accomplish. It would embroil the United States and thetwo American continents in continual trouble with Europe; and it wouldeither have to be abandoned or else would carry with it incessant andenormous expenditures for military and naval purposes. The United Stateswould have to become a predominantly military power, armed to the teeth, to resist or forestall European attack; and our country would have toaccept these consequences, for the express purpose of keeping theAmericas unsullied by the complications of European politics. Obviouslythere is a contradiction in such a situation. The United States couldfight with some show of reason a single European Power, like France in1865, which undertook a policy of American territorial aggrandizement;but if it were obliged to fight a considerable portion of Europe for thesame purpose, it would mean that our country was opposing a general, andpresumably a legitimate, European interest. In that event America wouldbecome a part of the European political system with a vengeance--a partwhich in its endeavor to escape from the vicissitudes of Europeanpolitics had brought upon itself a condition of permanent militarypreparation and excitement. Consequently, in case the "Monroe Doctrineand the Golden Rule" are to remain the foundation of American foreignpolicy, mere prudence demands a systematic attempt to prevent theDoctrine from arousing just and effective European opposition. 

No one can believe more firmly than myself that the foreign policy of ademocratic nation should seek by all practicable and inoffensive meansthe affirmation of democracy; but the challenge which the MonroeDoctrine in its popular form issues to Europe is neither an inoffensivenor a practicable means of affirmation. It is based usually upon thenotion of an essential incompatibility between American and Europeanpolitical institutions; and the assertion of such an incompatibility atthe present time can only be the result of a stupid or willful Americandemocratic Bourbonism. Such an incompatibility did exist when the HolyAlliance dominated Europe. It does not exist to-day, except in oneparticular. The exception is important, as we shall see presently; butit does not concern the domestic institutions of the European and theAmerican states. The emancipated and nationalized European states ofto-day, so far from being essentially antagonistic to the Americandemocratic nation, are constantly tending towards a condition whichinvites closer and more fruitful association with the United States; andany national doctrine which proclaims a rooted antagonism lies almost atright angles athwart the road of American democratic nationalachievement. Throughout the whole of the nineteenth century the Europeannations have been working towards democracy by means of a completernational organization; while this country has been working towardsnational cohesion by the mere logic and force of its democratic ideal. Thus the distance between America and Europe is being diminished; andAmericans in their individual behavior bear the most abundant andgenerous testimony to the benefits which American democracy can derivefrom association with the European nations. It is only in relation tothe Monroe Doctrine that we still make much of the essentialincompatibility between European and American institutions, and by sodoing we distort and misinterpret the valid meaning of a nationaldemocratic foreign policy. The existing domestic institutions of theEuropean nations are for the most part irrelevant to such a policy. 

The one way in which the foreign policy of the United States can makefor democracy is by strengthening and encouraging those politicalforces which make for international peace. The one respect in which thepolitical system, represented by the United States, is stillantagonistic to the European political system is that the Europeannation, whatever its ultimate tendency, is actually organized foraggressive war, that the cherished purposes of some of its states cannotbe realized without war, and that the forces which hope to benefit bywar are stronger than the forces which hope to benefit by peace. That isthe indubitable reason why the United States must remain aloof from theEuropean system and must avoid scrupulously any entanglements in thecomplicated web of European international affairs. The policy ofisolation is in this respect as wise to-day as it was in the time of itsenunciation by Washington and Hamilton; and nobody seriously proposes todepart from it. On the other hand, the basis for this policy is whollyindependent of the domestic institutions of the European nations. Itderives from the fact that at any time those nations may go to war aboutquestions in which the United States has no vital interest. Thegeographical situation of the United States emancipates her from theseconflicts, and enables her to stand for the ultimate democratic interestin international peace. 

This justifiable policy of isolation has, moreover, certain importantconsequences in respect to the foreign policy of the United States inthe two Americas. In this field, also, the United States must stand inevery practicable way for a peaceful international system, and whatevervalidity the Monroe Doctrine may have in its relation to the Europeannations is the outcome of that obligation. If South and Central Americawere thrown open to European colonial ambitions, they would be involvedvery much more than they are at present in the consequences of Europeanwars. In this sense the increase of European political influence in thetwo Americas would be an undesirable thing which the United States wouldhave good reason to oppose. In this sense the extension of the Europeansystem to the American hemisphere would involve consequences inimical todemocracy. In 1801 the North was fighting, not merely to preserveAmerican national integrity, but to prevent the formation of a state onits southern frontier which could persist only by virtue of a Europeanalliance, and which would consequently have entangled the free republicof the Northern states in the network of irrelevant Europeancomplications. Such would be the result of any attempt on the part ofthe European states to seek alliances or to pursue an aggressive policyon this side of the Atlantic. 

But it may be asked, how can European aggressions in America be opposed, even on the foregoing ground, without requiring enormous and increasingmilitary preparations? Would not the Monroe Doctrine, even in thatmodified form, involve the same practical inconsistency which hasalready been attached to its popular expression? The answer is simple. It will involve a similar inconsistency unless effective means are takento avoid the inevitable dangers of such a challenge to Europe--unless, that is, means are taken to prevent Europe from having any just causefor intervention in South America for the purpose of protecting its owninvestment of men and money. The probable necessity of such interventionis due to the treacherous and unstable political conditions prevailingon that continent; and the Monroe Doctrine, consequently, commits theUnited States at least to the attempt to constitute in the two Americasa stable and peaceful international system. During the next two or threegenerations the European states will be too much preoccupied elsewhereto undertake or even to threaten any serious or concerted interferencein South America. During that interval, while the Monroe Doctrineremains in its present situation of being unrecognized but unchallenged, American statesmen will have their opportunity. If the American systemcan be made to stand for peace, just as the European system stands atpresent for war, then the United States will have an unimpeachablereason in forbidding European intervention. European states would nolonger have a legitimate ground for interference; it would be impossiblefor them to take any concerted action. The American nation would testifyto its sincere democracy both by its negative attitude towards amilitant European system and by its positive promotion of a peacefulinternational system in the two Americas. 

On the other hand, if a stable international system either is not orcannot be constituted in the two Americas, the Monroe Doctrine willprobably involve this country in wars which would be not merelyexhausting and demoralizing, but fruitless. We should be fighting tomaintain a political system which would be in no essential respectsuperior to the European political system. The South and CentralAmerican states have been almost as ready to fight among themselves, andto cherish political plans which can be realized only by war, as theEuropean states. In the course of time, as they grow in population andwealth, they also will entertain more or less desirable projects ofexpansion; and the resulting conflicts would, the United Statespermitting, be sure to involve European alliances and complications. Whyshould the United States prepare for war in order to preserve theintegrity of states which, if left to themselves, might well have aninterest in compromising their own independence, and which, unlesssubjected to an edifying pressure, would probably make comparativelypoor use of the independence they enjoyed? Surely the only valid reasonfor fighting in order to prevent the growth of European politicalinfluence in the two Americas is the creation of a political system onbehalf of which it is worth while to fight. 

II

A STABLE AMERICAN INTERNATIONAL SYSTEM

Possibly some of my readers will have inferred by this time that theestablishment of a peaceable international system in the two Americas isonly a sanctimonious paraphrase for a policy on the part of this countryof political aggrandizement in the Western hemisphere. Such an inferencewould be wholly unjust. Before such a system can be established, the useof compulsion may on some occasions be necessary; but the United Statesacting individually, could rarely afford to employ forcible means. Anessential condition of the realization of the proposed system would bethe ability of American statesmen to convince the Latin-Americans of thedisinterestedness of their country's intentions; and to this end theactive coöperation of one or more Latin-American countries in therealization of the plan would be indispensable. The statesmen of thiscountry can work without coöperation as long as they are merely seekingto arouse public sentiment in favor of such a plan, or as long as theyare clearing away preliminary obstacles; but no decisive step can betaken without assurance of support on the part of a certain proportionof the Latin-American states, and the best way gradually to obtain suchsupport has already been indicated by Mr. Elihu Root during his officialterm as Secretary of State. He has begun the work of coming to anunderstanding with the best element in South American opinion by hiscandid and vigorous expression of the fundamental interest of the UnitedStates in its relations with its American neighbors. 

Fifteen years ago the attempt to secure effective support from any ofthe Latin-American states in the foundation of a stable Americaninternational system would have looked hopeless. Countries with soappalling a record of domestic violence and instability could apparentlybe converted to a permanently peaceable behavior in respect to theirneighbors only by the use of force. But recently several niches havebeen built into the American political structure on which a foothold mayeventually be obtained. In general the political condition of the morepowerful Latin-American states, such as Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, andChile, has become more stable and more wholesome. If their condition ofstability and health persists, their industrial and commercialprosperity will also continue; and little by little their politicalpurposes will become more explicit and more significant. As soon as thisstage is reached, it should be possible for American statesmen toestimate accurately the weight of the probable obstacles which anymovement towards an international agreement would encounter. A series ofparticular steps could then be taken, tending to remove such obstacles, and, if wise, the whole question of an international agreement could beraised in some definite way. 

Such obstacles may prove to be insurmountable; but provided theLatin-Americans can be convinced of the disinterestedness of thiscountry, they do not look insurmountable. Acquiescence in a permanentAmerican international system would, of course, imply a certainsacrifice of independence on the part of the several contracting states;but in return for this sacrifice their situation in respect to theirneighbors would receive a desirable certification. They would renouncethe right of going to war in return for a guarantee of theirindependence in other respects, and for the consequent chance of anindefinite period of orderly economic and social development. Whetherthey can ever be brought to such a renunciation will depend, of course, on the conception of their national interest which the more importantLatin-American states will reach. As long as any one of them cherishesobjects which can only be realized by war, the international situationin the Western hemisphere will remain similar to that of Europe. Anactual or latent aggressiveness on the part of any one nation inevitablyprovokes its neighbors into a defiant and suspicious temper. It is toosoon to predict whether the economic and political development of theLatin-Americans during the next generation will make for a warlike or apeaceful international organization; but considering the politicalgeography of South America and the manifest economic interests of theseveral states, it does not look as if any one of them had as much togain from a militant organization as it had from a condition ofcomparative international security. 

The domestic condition of some of the Latin-American states presents aserious obstacle to the creation of a stable American internationalsystem. Such a system presupposes a condition of domestic peace. Theseveral contracting states must possess permanent and genuinely nationalpolitical organizations; and no such organization is possible as long asthe tradition and habit of revolution persists. As we have seen, thepolitical habits of the more important states have in this respectenormously improved of late years, but there remain a number of minorcountries wherein the right of revolution is cherished as the essentialprinciple of their democracy. Just what can be done with such states isa knotty problem. In all probability no American international systemwill ever be established without the forcible pacification of one ormore such centers of disorder. Coercion should, of course, be used onlyin the case of extreme necessity; and it would not be just to deprivethe people of such states of the right of revolution, unless effectivemeasures were at the same time taken to do away with the more or lesslegitimate excuses for revolutionary protest. In short, anyinternational American political system might have to undertake a taskin states like Venezuela, similar to that which the United States is nowperforming in Cuba. That any attempt to secure domestic stability wouldbe disinterested, if not successful, would be guaranteed by theparticipation or the express acquiescence therein of the severalcontracting states. 

The United States has already made an effective beginning in this greatwork, both by the pacification of Cuba and by the attempt to introduce alittle order into the affairs of the turbulent Central Americanrepublics. The construction of the Panama Canal has given this countryan exceptional interest in the prevalence of order and good governmentin the territory between Panama and Mexico; and in the near future ourbest opportunity for improving international political conditions in theWestern hemisphere will be found in this comparatively limited but, froma selfish point of view, peculiarly important field. Within thisrestricted area the same obstacles will be encountered as in the largerarea, and success will depend upon the use of similar means and theexhibition of similar qualities. Very little can be achieved in CentralAmerica without the coöperation of Mexico, and without the ability toconvince Mexican statesmen of the disinterested intentions of thiscountry. In the same way any recrudescence of revolutionary upheavals inMexico would enormously increase the difficulties and perils of theattempt. On the other hand, success in bringing about with Mexicancoöperation a condition of political security and comparative stabilityin Central America would augur well for the success of the larger andmore difficult attempt to perform a similar work for the whole Americanhemisphere. 

The most difficult task, however, connected with the establishment of apeaceful American international system is presented by Canada. In casesuch a system were constituted, Canada should most assuredly form a partof it. Yet she could not form a part of it without a radical alterationin her relations with Great Britain. Canada is tied to the BritishImperial system, and her policy and destiny depends upon the policy anddestiny of the British Empire. She is content with this situation, notmerely because she is loyal to the mother country, but because shebelieves that her association with Great Britain guarantees herindependence in respect to the United States. Many Canadians cherish aprofound conviction that the United States wishes nothing so much asthe annexation of the Dominion; and the one thing in the world whichthey propose to prevent is a successful attack upon their independence. This is the natural attitude of a numerically weak people, divided by along and indefensible frontier from a numerous and powerful neighbor;and while the people of this country have done nothing since the War of1812 positively to provoke such suspicions, they have, on the otherhand, done nothing to allay them. We have never attempted to secure thegood will of the Canadians in any respect; and we have never doneanything to establish better relations. Yet unless such better relationsare established, the United States will lose an indispensable ally inthe making of a satisfactory political system in the Western hemispherewhile at the same time the American people will be in the sorrysituation for a sincere democracy of having created only apprehensionand enmity on the part of their nearest and most intelligent neighbors. 

Under such circumstances the very first object of the foreign policy ofthe United States should be to place its relations with Canada on abetter footing. There was a time when this object could have beenaccomplished by the negotiation of a liberal treaty of commercialreciprocity. If the commercial policy of the United States had beendetermined by its manifest national interest instead of by the interestsof a group of special industries, such a treaty would have been signedmany years ago. A great opportunity was lost when the negotiationsfailed early in the eighties, because ever since Canada has beentightening her commercial ties with Great Britain; and these ties willbe still further tightened as Canada grows into a large grain-exportingcountry. But while it will be impossible to make an arrangement asadvantageous as the one which might have been made twenty-five yearsago, the national interest plainly demands the negotiation of the mostsatisfactory treaty possible at the present time; and if the specialinterests of a few industries are allowed to stand indefinitely in theway, we shall be plainly exhibiting our incompetence to carry out anenlightened and a truly national foreign policy. We shall be brandingourselves with the mark of a merely trading democracy which is unable tosubordinate the selfish interests of a few of its citizens to therealization of a policy combining certain commercial advantages with anessential national object. Just as the maintenance of the present highprotective tariff is the clearest possible indication of the dominationof special over national interests in domestic politics, so the resoluteopposition which these industries show to the use of the tariff as aninstrument of a national foreign policy, suggests that the first duty ofthe United States as a nation is to testify to its emancipation fromsuch bondage by revising the tariff. The matter concerns not merelyCanada, but the South American Republics; and it is safe to say that thepresent policy of blind protection is an absolute bar to the realizationof that improved American political system which is the correlative inforeign affairs of domestic individual and social amelioration. 

The desirable result of the utmost possible commercial freedom betweenCanada and the United States would be to prepare the way for closerpolitical association. By closer political association I do not mean theannexation of Canada to the United States. Such annexation might not bedesirable even with the consent of Canada. What I do mean is somepolitical recognition of the fact that the real interests of Canada inforeign affairs coincide with the interests of the United States ratherthan with the interests of Great Britain. Great Britain's interest inthe independence of Holland or in the maintenance of the Turkish powerin Europe might involve England in a European war, in which Canada wouldhave none but a sentimental stake, but from which she might suffersevere losses. At bottom Canada needs for her political and commercialwelfare disentanglement from European complications just as much as doesthe United States; and the diplomacy, official and unofficial, of theUnited States, should seek to convince Canada of the truth of thisstatement. Neither need a policy which looked in that directionnecessarily incur the enmity of Great Britain. In view of the increasingcost of her responsibilities in Europe and in Asia, England has a greatdeal to gain by concentration and by a partial retirement from theAmerican continent, so far as such a retirement could be effectedwithout being recreant to her responsibilities towards Canada. The needof such retirement has already been indicated by the diminution of herfleet in American waters; and if her expenses and difficulties in Europeand Asia increase, she might be glad to reach some arrangement withCanada and the United States which would recognize a dominant Canadianinterest in freedom from exclusively European political vicissitudes. 

Such an arrangement is very remote; but it looks as if under certainprobable future conditions, a treaty along the following lines might beacceptable to Great Britain, Canada, and the United States. The Americanand the English governments would jointly guarantee the independence ofCanada. Canada, on her part, would enter into an alliance with theUnited States, looking towards the preservation of peace on the Americancontinents and the establishment of an American international politicalsystem. Canada and the United States in their turn would agree to lendthe support of their naval forces to Great Britain in the event of ageneral European war, but solely for the purpose of protecting thecargoes of grain and other food which might be needed by Great Britain. Surely the advantages of such an arrangement would be substantial andwell-distributed. Canada would feel secure in her independence, andwould be emancipated from irrelevant European complications. The UnitedStates would gain support, which is absolutely essential for the properpacification of the American continent, and would pay for that supportonly by an engagement consonant with her interest as a food-exportingpower. Great Britain would exchange a costly responsibility for anassurance of food in the one event, which Britons must fear--viz. , ageneral European war with strong maritime powers on the other side. Suchan arrangement would, of course, be out of the question at present; butit suggests the kind of treaty which might lead Great Britain to consentto the national emancipation of Canada, and which could be effectedwithout endangering Canadian independence. 

Any systematic development of the foreign policy of the United States, such as proposed herewith, will seem very wild to the majority ofAmericans. They will not concede its desirability, because the Americanhabit is to proclaim doctrines and policies, without considering eitherthe implications, the machinery necessary to carry them out, or theweight of the resulting responsibilities. But in estimating thepracticability of the policy proposed, the essential idea must bedisentangled from any possible methods of realizing it--such as thesuggested treaty between the United States, Great Britain, and Canada. An agreement along those lines may never be either practicable orprudent, but the validity of the essential idea remains unaffected bythe abandonment of a detail. That idea demands that effective andfar-sighted arrangements be made in order to forestall the inevitablefuture objections on the part of European nations to an uncompromisinginsistence on the Monroe Doctrine; and no such arrangement is possible, except by virtue of Canadian and Mexican coöperation as well as that ofsome of the South American states. It remains for American statesmanshipand diplomacy to discover little by little what means are practicableand how much can be accomplished under any particular set of conditions. A candid man must admit that the obstacles may prove to be insuperable. One of any number of possible contingencies may serve to postpone itsrealization indefinitely. Possibly neither Canada nor Great Britain willconsent to any accommodation with the United States. Possibly one ormore South American states will assume an aggressive attitude towardstheir neighbors. Possibly their passions, prejudices, and suspicionswill make them prefer the hazards and the costs of military preparationsand absolute technical independence, even though their interests counselanother course. Possibly the consequences of some general war in Europeor Asia will react on the two Americas and embroil the internationalsituation to the point of hopeless misunderstanding and confusion. Indeed, the probabilities are that in America as in Europe the road toany permanent international settlement will be piled mountain high withdead bodies, and will be traveled, if at all, only after a series ofabortive and costly experiments. But remote and precarious as is theestablishment of any American international system, it is not forAmerican statesmen necessarily either an impracticable, an irrelevant, or an unworthy object. Fail though we may in the will, the intelligence, or the power to carry it out, the systematic effort to establish apeaceable American system is just as plain and just as inevitable aconsequence of the democratic national principle, as is the effort tomake our domestic institutions contribute to the work of individual andsocial amelioration. 

III

DEMOCRACY AND PEACE

A genuinely national foreign policy for the American democracy is notexhausted by the Monroe Doctrine. The United States already has certaincolonial interests; and these interests may hereafter be extended. I donot propose at the present stage of this discussion to raise thequestion as to the legitimacy in principle of a colonial policy on thepart of a democratic nation. The validity of colonial expansion even fora democracy is a manifest deduction from the foregoing politicalprinciples, always assuming that the people whose independence isthereby diminished are incapable of efficient national organization. Onthe other hand, a democratic nation cannot righteously ignore anunusually high standard of obligation for the welfare of its colonialpopulation. It would be distinctly recreant to its duty, in case itfailed to provide for the economic prosperity of such a population, andfor their educational discipline and social improvement. It by no meansfollows, however, that because there is no rigid objection on democraticprinciples to colonial expansion, there may not be the strongestpractical objection on the score of national interest to the acquisitionof any particular territory. A remote colony is, under existinginternational conditions, even more of a responsibility than it is asource of national power and efficiency; and it is always a gravequestion how far the assumption of any particular responsibility isworth while. 

Without entering into any specific discussion, there can, I think, belittle doubt that the United States was justified in assuming itsexisting responsibilities in respect to Cuba and its much more abundantresponsibilities in respect to Porto Rico. Neither can it be fairlyclaimed that hitherto the United States has not dealt disinterestedlyand in good faith with the people of these islands. On the other hand, our acquisition of the Philippines raises a series of much more doubtfulquestions. These islands have been so far merely an expensiveobligation, from which little benefit has resulted to this country and acomparatively moderate benefit to the Filipinos. They have already costan amount of money far beyond any chance of compensation, and an amountof American and Filipino blood, the shedding of which constitutes agrave responsibility. Their future defense against possible attackpresents a military and naval problem of the utmost difficulty. In fact, they cannot be defended from Japan except by the maintenance of a fleetin Pacific waters at least as large as the Japanese fleet; and it doesnot look probable that the United States will be able to afford foranother generation any such concentration of naval strength in thePacific. But even though from the military point of view the Philippinesmay constitute a source of weakness and danger, their possession willhave the political advantage of keeping the American people alive totheir interests in the grave problems which will be raised in the FarEast by the future development of China and Japan. 

The future of China raises questions of American foreign policy secondonly in importance to the establishment of a stable Americaninternational organization; and in relation to these questions, also, the interests of the United States and Canada tend both to coincide andto diverge (possibly) from those of Great Britain. Just what form theChinese question will assume, after the industrial and the politicalawakening of China has resulted in a more effective militaryorganization and in greater powers both of production and consumption, cannot be predicted with any certainty; but at present, it looks as ifthe maintenance of the traditional American policy with respect toChina, viz. , the territorial integrity and the free commercialdevelopment of that country, might require quite as considerable aconcentration of naval strength in the Pacific as is required by thedefense of the Philippines. It is easy enough to enunciate such apolicy, just as it is easy to proclaim a Monroe Doctrine which noEuropean Power has any sufficient immediate interest to dispute; but itis wholly improbable that China can be protected in its territorialintegrity and its political independence without a great deal ofdiplomacy and more or less fighting. During the life of the cominggeneration there will be brought home clearly to the American people howmuch it will cost to assert its own essential interests in China; andthe peculiar value of the Philippines as an American colony will consistlargely in the fact that they will help American public opinion torealize more quickly than it otherwise would the complications andresponsibilities created by Chinese political development and byJapanese ambition. 

The existence and the resolute and intelligent facing of suchresponsibilities are an inevitable and a wholesome aspect of nationaldiscipline and experience. The American people have too easily evadedthem in the past, but in the future they cannot be evaded; and it isbetter so. The irresponsible attitude of Americans in respect to theirnational domestic problems may in part be traced to freedom from equallygrave international responsibilities. In truth, the work of internalreconstruction and amelioration, so far from being opposed to that ofthe vigorous assertion of a valid foreign policy, is really correlativeand supplementary thereto; and it is entirely possible that hereafterthe United States will be forced into the adoption of a really nationaldomestic policy because of the dangers and duties incurred through herrelations with foreign countries. 

The increasingly strenuous nature of international competition and theconstantly higher standards of international economic, technical, andpolitical efficiency prescribe a constantly improving domestic politicaland economic organization. The geographical isolation which affords theUnited States its military security against foreign attack should notblind Americans to the merely comparative nature of their isolation. Thegrowth of modern sea power and the vast sweep of modern nationalpolitical interests have at once diminished their security, andmultiplied the possible sources of contact between American and Europeaninterests. No matter how peaceably the United States is inclined, and nomatter how advantageously it is situated, the American nation is nonethe less constantly threatened by political warfare, and constantlyengaged in industrial warfare. The American people can no more affordthan can a European people to neglect any necessary kind or source ofefficiency. Sooner than ever before in the history of the world do anation's sins and deficiencies find it out. Under modern conditions acountry which takes its responsibilities lightly, and will not submit tothe discipline necessary to political efficiency, does not graduallydecline, as Spain did in the seventeenth century. It usually goes downwith a crash, as France did in 1870, or as Russia has just done. Theeffect of diminishing economic efficiency is not as suddenly anddramatically exhibited; but it is no less inevitable and no less severe. And the service which the very intensity of modern internationalcompetition renders to a living nation arises precisely from thesearching character of the tests to which it subjects the severalnational organizations. Austria-Hungary has been forced to assume asecondary position in Europe, because the want of national cohesion andvitality deprived her political advance of all momentum. Russia hassuddenly discovered that a corrupt bureaucracy is incapable of anational organization as efficient as modern military and politicalcompetition requires. It was desirable in the interest of the Austrians, the Hungarians, and the Russians, that these weaknesses should beexposed; and if the Christian states of the West ever become soorganized that their weaknesses are concealed until their consequencesbecome irremediable, Western civilization itself will be on the road todecline. The Atlantic Ocean will, in the long run, fail to offer theUnited States any security from the application of the same searchingstandards. Its democratic institutions must be justified, not merely bythe prosperity which they bestow upon its own citizens, but by itsability to meet the standards of efficiency imposed by other nations. Its standing as a nation is determined precisely by its ability toconquer and to hold a dignified and important place in the society ofnations. 

The inference inevitably is that the isolation which has meant so muchto the United States, and still means so much, cannot persist in itspresent form. Its geographical position will always have a profoundinfluence on the strategic situation of the United States in respect tothe European Powers. It should always emancipate the United States frommerely European complications. But, while the American nation shouldnever seek a positive place in an exclusively European system, Europe, the United States, Japan, and China must all eventually take theirrespective places in a world system. While such a system is still soremote that it merely shows dimly through the obscurity of the future, its manifest desirability brings with it certain definite but contingentobligations in addition to the general obligation of comprehensive andthorough-going national efficiency. It brings with it the obligation ofinterfering under certain possible circumstances in what may at firstappear to be a purely European complication; and this specificobligation would be the result of the general obligation of a democraticnation to make its foreign policy serve the cause of internationalpeace. Hitherto, the American preference and desire for peace hasconstituted the chief justification for its isolation. At some futuretime the same purpose, just in so far as it is sincere and rational, maydemand intervention. The American responsibility in this respect issimilar to that of any peace-preferring European Power. If it wantspeace, it must be spiritually and physically prepared to fight for it. Peace will prevail in international relations, just as order prevailswithin a nation, because of the righteous use of superior force--becausethe power which makes for pacific organization is stronger than thepower which makes for a warlike organization. It looks as if at somefuture time the power of the United States might well be sufficient, when thrown into the balance, to tip the scales in favor of acomparatively pacific settlement of international complications. Undersuch conditions a policy of neutrality would be a policy ofirresponsibility and unwisdom. 

The notion of American intervention in a European conflict, carryingwith it either the chance or the necessity of war, would at present bereceived with pious horror by the great majority of Americans. Non-interference in European affairs is conceived, not as a policydependent upon certain conditions, but as absolute law--derived from thesacred writings. If the issue should be raised in the near future, theAmerican people would be certain to shirk it; and they would, perhaps, have some reason for a failure to understand their obligation, becausethe course of European political development has not as yet been such asto raise the question in a decisive form. All one can say as to theexisting situation is that there are certain Powers which have very muchmore to lose than they have to gain by war. These Powers are no longersmall states like Belgium, Switzerland, and Holland, but populous andpowerful states like Great Britain, Italy, and France. It may be one orit may be many generations before the issue of a peaceful or a warlikeorganization is decisively raised. When, if ever, it is decisivelyraised, the system of public law, under which any organization wouldhave to take place, may not be one which the United States could accept. But the point is that, whenever and however it is raised, the Americannational leaders should confront it with a sound, well-informed, andpositive conception of the American national interest rather than anegative and ignorant conception. And there is at least a fair chancethat such will be the case. The experience of the American people inforeign affairs is only beginning, and during the next few generationsthe growth of their traffic with Asia and Europe will afford them everyreason and every opportunity to ponder seriously the great internationalproblem of peace in its relation to the American national democraticinterest. 

The idea which is most likely to lead them astray is the idea whichvitiates the Monroe Doctrine in its popular form, --the idea of someessential incompatibility between Europeanism and Americanism. That ideahas given a sort of religious sanctity to the national tradition ofisolation; and it will survive its own utility because it flattersAmerican democratic vanity. But if such an idea should prevent theAmerican nation from contributing its influence to the establishment ofa peaceful system in Europe, America, and Asia, such a refusal would bea decisive stop toward American democratic degeneracy. It would eithermean that the American nation preferred its apparently safe and easyisolation to the dangers and complications which would inevitably attendthe final establishment of a just system of public law; or else it wouldmean that the American people believed more in Americanism than they didin democracy. A decent guarantee of international peace would beprecisely the political condition which would enable the Europeannations to release the springs of democracy; and the Americanism whichwas indifferent or suspicious of the spread of democracy in Europe wouldincur and deserve the enmity of the European peoples. Such an attitudewould constitute a species of continental provincialism and chauvinism. Hence there is no shibboleth that patriotic Americans should fight moretenaciously and more fiercely than of America for the Americans, andEurope for the Europeans. To make Pan-Americanism merely a matter ofgeography is to deprive it of all serious meaning. Pan-Slavism orPan-Germanism, based upon a racial bond, would be a far more significantpolitical idea. The only possible foundation of Pan-Americanism is anideal democratic purpose--which, when translated into terms ofinternational relations, demands, in the first place, the establishmentof a pacific system of public law in the two Americas, and in the secondplace, an alliance with the pacific European Powers, just in so far as asimilar system has become in that continent one of the possibilities ofpractical politics. 

CHAPTER XI

PROBLEMS OF RECONSTRUCTION

I

STATE INSTITUTIONAL REFORM

In the foregoing chapter I have traced the larger aspects of aconstructive relation between the national and democratic principles inthe field of foreign politics. The task remains of depicting somewhat indetail the aspect which our more important domestic problems assume fromthe point of view of the same relationship. The general outlines of thispicture have already been roughly sketched; but the mere sketch of afruitful general policy is not enough. A national policy must bejustified by the flexibility with which, without any loss of itsintegrity, it can be applied to specific problems, differing radicallyone from another in character and significance. That the idea of aconstructive relationship between nationality and democracy is flexiblewithout being invertebrate is one of its greatest merits. It is not arigid abstract and partial ideal, as is that of an exclusively socialistor an exclusively individualist democracy. Neither is it merely acompromise, suited to certain practical exigencies, betweenindividualism and socialism. Its central formative idea can lend itselfto many different and novel applications, while still remaining true toits own fundamental interest. 

Flexible though the national ideal may be, its demands are in onerespect inflexible. It is the strenuous and irrevocable enemy of thepolicy of drift. It can counsel patience; but it cannot abide collectiveindifference or irresponsibility. A constructive national ideal must atleast seek humbly to be constructive. The only question is, as to howthis responsibility for the collective welfare can at any one time bemost usefully redeemed. In the case of our own country at the presenttime an intelligent conception of the national interest will counselpatient agitation rather than any hazardous attempts at radicalreconstruction. No such reform can be permanent, or even healthy, untilAmerican public opinion has been converted to a completer realization ofthe nature and extent of its national responsibilities. The ship ofreform will gather most headway from the association of certain verymoderate practical proposals with the issue of a deliberate, persistent, and far more radical challenge to popular political prejudices anderrors. It will be sufficient, in case our practical proposals seek toaccomplish some small measure both of political and economicreconstruction, and in case they occupy some sort of a family relationto plans of the same kind with which American public opinion is alreadymore or less familiar. 

In considering this matter of institutional reform, I shall be guidedchiefly by the extent to which certain specific reforms have alreadybecome living questions. From this point of view it would be a sheerwaste of time just at present to discuss seriously any radicalmodification, say, of the Federal Constitution. Certain transformationsof the Constitution either by insidious effect of practice, bydeliberate judicial construction, or by amendment are, of course, aninevitable aspect of the contemporary American political problem; butall such possible and proposed changes must be confined to specificdetails. They should not raise any question as to the fundamentaldesirability of a system of checks and balances or of the otherprinciples upon which the Federal political organization is based. Much, consequently, as a political theorist may be interested in some idealplan of American national organization, it will be of little benefitunder existing conditions to enter into such a discussion. Let it waituntil Americans have come to think seriously and consistently aboutfundamental political problems. The Federal Constitution is not all itshould be, but it is better than any substitute upon which Americanpublic opinion could now agree. Modifications may and should somehow bemade in details, but for the present not in fundamentals. On the otherhand, no similar sanctity attaches to municipal charters and stateconstitutions. The ordinary state constitution is a sufficientlyephemeral piece of legislation. State and municipal political forms arebeing constantly changed, and they are being changed because they havebeen so extremely unsatisfactory in their actual operation. The localpolitical machinery becomes, consequently, the natural and usefulsubject of reconstructive experiments. A policy of institutional reformmust prove its value and gain its experience chiefly in this field; andin formulating such a policy reformers will be placing their hands uponthe most palpable and best-recognized weakness in the American politicalsystem. 

A popular but ill-founded American political illusion concerns thesuccess of their state governments. Americans tend to believe that thesegovernments have on the whole served them well, whereas in truth theyhave on the whole been ill served by their machinery of localadministration and government. The failure has not, perhaps, been asegregious or as scandalous as has been that of their municipalinstitutions; but it has been sufficiently serious to provoke continualbut abortive attempts to improve them; and it has had so many dangerousconsequences that the cause and cure of their inefficiency constituteone of the most fundamental of American political problems. Theconsequences of the failure have been mitigated because the weakness ofthe state governments has been partly concealed and redeemed by thecomparative strength and efficiency of the central government. But thefailures have none the less been sufficiently distressing; and if theyare permitted to continue, they will compromise the success of theAmerican democratic experiment. The Federal government has done much toameliorate the condition of the American people, whereas the stategovernments have done little or nothing. Instead of representing, as agovernment should, the better contemporary ideals and methods, they havereflected at best the average standard of popular behavior and at worsta standard decidedly below the average. The lawlessness which so manyAmericans bemoan in American life must be traced to the inefficiency ofthe state governments. If the central government had shared thisweakness, the American political organism would have already dissolvedin violence and bloodshed. 

The local authorities retain under the American Federal organizationmany of the primary functions of government. They preserve order, administer civil and criminal justice, collect taxes for general andlocal purposes, and are directly or indirectly responsible for thesystem of public education. If it can be proved that the stategovernments have exercised any of these functions in an efficientmanner, that proof certainly does not lie upon the surface of the facts. The provisions they have made for keeping order have been utterlyinadequate, and have usually broken down when any serious reason fordisorder has existed. A certain part of this violence is, moreover, theimmediate result of the failure of American criminal justice. Thecriminal laws have been so carefully framed and so admirably expoundedfor the benefit of the lawyers and their clients, the malefactors, thata very large proportion of American murderers escape the proper penaltyof their acts; and these dilatory and dubious judicial methods areundoubtedly one effective cause of the prevalence of lynching in theSouth. There is more to be said in favor of our civil than of ourcriminal courts. In spite of a good deal of corruption and ofsubserviency to special interests, the judges are usually honest men andgood average lawyers; but the fact that they are elected forcomparatively short terms has made them the creatures of the politicalmachine, and has demoralized their political standards. They use courtpatronage largely for the benefit of the machine; and whatever influencethey have in politics is usually exercised in favor of the professionalpolitician. If they do not constitute a positive weakness in the systemof local government, they are certainly far from constituting a sourceof strength; and considering the extent to which our government is agovernment of judges, they should exercise a far more beneficentinfluence than they do. 

Neither are the administrative and legislative responsibilities of thestates redeemed with any more success. The tax systems of the severalstates are in a chaotic condition. Their basis consists of the oldproperty tax, which under its application to modern conditions hasbecome both unjust and unproductive, but which the state legislaturesseem to be wholly incapable of either abandoning or properlytransforming. In the matter of education the states have been, except inthe South, liberal; but they have not been as intelligent andwell-informed as they have been well-intentioned. The educational systemof the country is not only chaotic, but it is very imperfectly adaptedto the needs of an industrial and agricultural democracy. Finally, ifthe legislatures of the several states have ever done anything toincrease respect for the wisdom and conservatism of Americanrepresentative government, it is certainly hard to discover indicationsthereof. The financial and economic legislation of the states hasusually shown incompetence and frequently dishonesty. They havesometimes been ready to repudiate their debts. In their relations to thecorporations they have occupied the positions alternately ofblackmailers and creatures. They have been as ready to confiscateprivate property as they have to confer on it excessive privileges. Ifthe word "law" means something less majestic and authoritative toAmericans than it should, the mass of trivial, contradictory, unwise, ephemeral, and corrupt legislation passed by the state legislatures islargely responsible. 

No doubt a certain part of this failure of the state governments isirremediable as long as existing standards of public and privatemorality prevail; but most assuredly a certain part is the direct resultof unwise organization. American state governments have been corrupt andinefficient largely because they have been organized for the benefit ofcorrupt and inefficient men; and as long as they continue to beorganized on such a basis, no permanent or substantial improvement canbe expected. Moreover, any reorganization in order to be effective mustnot deal merely with details and expedients. It must be as radical asare the existing disorganization and abuses. It must be founded on adifferent relation between the executive and legislative branches and awholly different conception of the function of a state legislative body. 

The demand for some such reorganization has already become popular, particularly in the West. A generation or more ago the makers of newstate constitutions, being confronted by palpable proofs of theinefficiency and corruption of the state governments, sought to providea remedy chiefly by limiting the power of the legislature. All sorts ofimportant details, which would have formerly been left to legislativeaction, were incorporated in the fundamental law; and in the same spiritsevere restrictions were imposed on legislative procedure, designed toprevent the most flagrant existing abuses. These prudential measureshave not served to improve the legislative output, and the reformers arenow crying for more drastic remedies. In the West the tendency is totransfer legislative authority from a representative body directly tothe people. A movement in favor of the initiative and the referendum isgaining so much headway, that in all probability it will spreadthroughout the country much as the Australian ballot did over a decadeago. But the adoption of the initiative and the referendum substitutes anew principle for the one which has hitherto underlain American localinstitutions. Representative government is either abandoned thereby orvery much restricted; and direct government, so far as possible, issubstituted for it. Such a fundamental principle and tradition as thatof representation should not be thrown away, unless the change can bejustified by a specific, comprehensive, and conclusive analysis of thecauses of the failure of the state governments. 

The analysis upon which the advocates of the initiative and thereferendum base their reform has the merit of being obvious. Americanlegislatures have betrayed the interests of their constituents, and havebeen systematically passing laws for the benefit of corrupt and specialinterests. The people must consequently take back the trust, which hasbeen delegated to representative bodies. They must resume at least thepower to initiate the legislation they want; and no law dealing with areally important subject should be passed without their direct consent. 

Such an analysis of the causes of legislative corruption andincompetence is not as correct as it is obvious. It is based upon theold and baleful democratic tendency of always seeking the reason for thefailure of a democratic enterprise in some personal betrayal of trust. It is never the people who are at fault. Neither is the betrayalattributed to some defect of organization, which neglects to give therepresentative individual a sufficient chance. The responsibility forthe failure is fastened on the selected individual himself, and theconclusion is drawn that the people cannot trust representatives toserve them honestly and efficiently. The course of reasoning isprecisely the same as that which prompted the Athenian democracy toorder the execution of an unsuccessful general. In the case of our statelegislatures, a most flagrant betrayal of trust has assuredly occurred, but before inferring from this betrayal that selected individuals cannotbe trusted to legislate properly on behalf of their constituents, itwould be just as well to inquire whether individual incompetence andturpitude are any sufficient reason for this particular failure ofrepresentative institutions. 

As a matter of fact they are no sufficient reason. When a large numberof individuals to whom authority is delegated exercise that authorityimproperly, one may safely infer that the system is at fault as much asthe individual. Local American legislative organization has courtedfailure. Both the system of representation and functions of therepresentative body have been admirably calculated to debase the qualityof the representatives and to nullify the value of their work. Americanstate legislatures have really never had a fair opportunity. They havealmost from the beginning been deprived of any effective responsibility. The state constitutions have gradually hedged them in with so manyrestrictions, have gone so much into detail in respect to stateorganization and policy that the legislatures really had comparativelylittle to do, except to deal with matters of current business. Theyoffered no opportunity for a man of ability and public spirit. When suchmen drifted into a local legislature, they naturally escaped as soon asthey could to some larger and less obstructed field of action. If theAmerican people want better legislatures, they must adopt one of twocourses. Either they must give their legislative bodies something moreand better to do, or else they must arrange so that these bodies willhave a chance to perform an inferior but definite service more capably. 

The legislatures have been corrupt and incapable, chiefly because theyhave not been permitted any sufficient responsibility, but thisirresponsibility itself has had more than one cause. It cannot be tracedexclusively to the diminished confidence and power reposed inrepresentative bodies by the state constitutions. Early in thenineteenth century, the legislatures were granted almost fulllegislative powers; and if they did not use those powers well, they usedthem much better than at a later period. Their corruption began with thedomination of the political machine; and it is during the last twogenerations that their powers and responsibilities have been more andmore restricted. They have undoubtedly been more corrupt and incompetentin proportion as they have been increasingly deprived of power; but therestrictions imposed upon them have been as much an effect as a cause oftheir corruption. There is a deeper reason for their deficiencies; andthis reason is connected with mal-adaptation of the whole system ofAmerican state government to its place in a Federal system. The Federalorganization took away from the states a number of the most importantgovernmental functions, and in certain respects absolutely subordinatedthe state to the nation. In this way the actual responsibilities and thepowers of the state governments were very much diminished, while at thesame time no sufficient allowance for such a diminution was made inframing their organization. Their governments were organized along thesame lines as that of an independent state--in spite of the fact thatthey had abandoned so many of the responsibilities and prerogatives ofindependence. 

The effect of this mal-adaptation of the state political institutions totheir place in a Federal system has been much more important than isusually supposed. The former were planned to fulfill a much completerresponsibility than the one which they actually possessed. The publicbusiness of a wholly or technically independent state naturally arousesin its citizens a much graver sense of responsibility than does thepublic business of a state in the American Union. The latter retainedmany important duties; but it surrendered, if not the most essential ofits functions, at least the most critical and momentous, while in theexercise of the remainder it was to a certain extent protected againstthe worst consequences of mistakes or perversities. It surrendered thepower of making peace or declaring war. Its relation to the other statesin the Union was strictly defined, so that it had no foreign policy andresponsibilities corresponding to its purely domestic ones. Its citizenswere aware that the protection of such fundamental institutions as thatof private property was lodged in the Federal government, and that inthe end that government had the power to guarantee them even against theworst consequences of domestic disorder. Thus the state governments wereplaced in the easy situation of rich annuitants, who had surrendered thecontrol of some political capital in order to enjoy with less care theopportunities of a plethoric income. 

The foregoing comment is not intended as any disparagement of a Federalas contrasted with a centralized political system. Its purpose is tojustify the statement that, in a Federal system, local politicalinstitutions should be adapted to their necessarily restrictedfunctions. The state governments were organized as smaller copies of thecentral government, and the only alterations in the type permitted bythe Democrats looked in the direction of a further distribution ofresponsibility. But a system which was adapted to the comprehensive taskof securing the welfare of a whole people might well fail as an engineof merely local government, --even though the local government retainedcertain major political functions. As a matter of fact, such has beenthe case. The system of a triple division of specific powers, each oneof which was vigorous in its own sphere while at the same time checkedand balanced by the other branches of the government, has certainadvantages and certain disadvantages. Its great advantage is itscomparative safety, because under it no one function of government canattain to any dangerous excess of power. Its great disadvantage consistsin the division of responsibility among three independent departments, and the possibility that the public interest would suffer either fromlack of coöperation or from actual conflicts. In the case of the generalgovernment, the comparative safety of the system of checks and balanceswas of paramount importance, because the despotic exercise of its vastpowers would have wrecked the whole American political system. On theother hand, the disadvantages of such a system--its division ofresponsibility and the possible lack of coöperation among the severaldepartments--were mitigated to a considerable, if not to a sufficient, extent. National parties came into existence with the function ofassuming a responsibility which no single group of Federal officialspossessed; and in their management of national affairs, the partisanleaders were prompted by a certain amount of patriotism and interest inthe public welfare. Even at Washington the system works badly enough incertain respects; but in general the dominant party can be held to ameasure of responsibility; and effective coöperation is frequentlyobtained in matters of foreign policy and the like through the action ofpatriotic and disinterested motives. 

In the state governments the advantages of a system of checks andbalances were of small importance, while its disadvantages weremagnified. The state governments had no reason to sacrifice concentratedefficiency to safety, because in a Federal organization the temporaryexercise of arbitrary executive or legislative power in one localitywould not have entailed any irretrievable consequences, and could notimpair the fundamental integrity of the American system. But if a statehad less to lose from a betrayal by a legislature or an executive of asubstantially complete responsibility for the public welfare, it was notprotected to the same extent as the central government against theabuses of a diffused responsibility. In the state capitals, as atWashington, the national parties did, indeed, make themselvesresponsible for the management of public affairs and for the harmoniouscoöperation of the executive and the legislature; but in their conductof local business the national parties retained scarcely a vestige ofnational patriotism. Their behavior was dictated by the most selfishfactional and personal motives. They did, indeed, secure the coöperationof the different branches of the government, but largely for corrupt orundesirable purposes; and after the work was done the real authors of itcould hide behind the official division of responsibility. 

If the foregoing analysis is correct, the partial failure of Americanstate governments is to be imputed chiefly to their lack of acentralized responsible organization. In their case a very simple andvery efficient legislative and administrative system is the morenecessary, because only through such a machinery can the local publicspirit receive any effective expression. It can hardly be expected thatAmerican citizens will bring as much public spirit to their local publicbusiness as to the more stirring affairs of the whole nation; and whatlocal patriotism there is should be confronted by no unnecessaryobstacles. If a mistake or an abuse occurs, the responsibility for itshould be unmistakable and absolute, while if a reform candidate orparty is victorious, they should control a machinery of governmentwholly sufficient for their purposes. 

As soon as any attempt is made to devise a system which does concentrateresponsibility and power, serious difficulties are encountered. Concentration of responsibility can be brought about in one of twoways--either by subordinating the legislature to the executive or theexecutive to the legislature. There are precedents both here and abroadin favor of each of these methods, and their comparative advantages mustbe briefly sketched. 

The subordination of the executive to the legislature would conform tothe early American political tradition. We have usually associatedexecutive authority with arbitrary and despotic political methods, andwe have tended to assume that a legislative body was much morerepresentative of popular opinion. During or immediately succeeding theRevolutionary War, the legislatures of the several states were endowedwith almost complete control--a control which was subject only to theconstitutional bills of rights; and it has been seriously and frequentlyproposed to revive this complete legislative responsibility. Under sucha system, the legislature would elect the chief executive, if not thejudicial officials; and it would become like the British Parliamentexclusively and comprehensively responsible for the work ofgovernment--both in its legislative and administrative branches. 

The foregoing type of organization has so many theoretical advantagesthat one would like to see it tried in some American states. But for thepresent it is not likely to be tried. The responsibility of thelegislature could not be exercised without the creation of someinstitution corresponding to the British Cabinet: and the whole tendencyof American political development has been away from any approach to theEnglish Parliamentary system. Whatever the theoretical advantages oflegislative omnipotence, it would constitute in this country a dangerousand dubious method of concentrating local governmental responsibilityand power. It might succeed, in case it were accompanied by the adoptionof some effective measures for improving the quality of therepresentation--such, for instance, as the abandonment of all existingtraditions necessitating the residence of the representative in thedistrict he represents. This American political practice always has andalways will tend to give mediocrity to the American popularrepresentation, but it corresponds to one of the most fundamental ofAmerican political prejudices, and for the present its abandonment isout of the question. The work of improving the quality of the averageAmerican representative from a small district appears to be hopeless, because as a matter of fact such small districts and the work imposed ontheir representatives can hardly prove tempting to able men; and unlessthe American legislator is really capable of becoming exceptionallyrepresentative, the fastening of exclusive responsibility upon the statelegislatures could hardly result in immediate success. Its intrinsicmerits might carry it to ultimate success, but not until it hadtransformed many American political practices and traditions. 

The truth is, that certain very deep and permanent causes underlieAmerican legislative degeneracy. When the American legislative systemwas framed, a representative assembly possessed a much better chancethan it does now of becoming a really representative body. Itconstituted at the time an effective vehicle for the formation andexpression of public opinion. Public questions had not received thecomplete ventilation on the platform and in the press that they obtainat the present time; and in the debate of a representative assembly thechance existed of a really illuminating and formative conflict ofopinion. Representatives were often selected, who were capable of addingsomething to the candid and serious consideration of a question ofpublic policy. The need helped to develop men capable of meeting it. Now, however, American legislatures, with the partial exception of theFederal Senate, have ceased to be deliberative bodies. Public questionsreceive their effective discussion in the press and on the platform. Public opinion is definitely formed before the meeting of thelegislature; and the latter has become simply a vehicle for realizing orbetraying the mandates of popular opinion. Its function is or should beto devise or to help in the devising of means, necessary to accomplish apredetermined policy. Its members have little or no initiative andlittle or no independence. Legislative projects are imposed upon themeither by party leaders, by special interests, or at times by theexecutive and public opinion. Their work is at best that ofcommittee-men and at worst that of mercenaries, paid to betray theiroriginal employers. A successful attempt to bestow upon legislativebodies, composed of such doubtful material and subject to such equivocaltraditions anything resembling complete governmental responsibility, would be a dangerous business. Legislatures have degenerated into thecondition of being merely agents, rather than principals in the work ofgovernment; and the strength and the propriety of the contemporarymovement in favor of the initiative and the referendum is to beattributed to this condition. 

The increasing introduction of the referendum into the local politicalorganization is partly a recognition of the fact that the legislatureshave ceased to play an independent part in the work of government. Thereis every reason to believe that hereafter the voters will obtain andkeep a much more complete and direct control over the making of theirlaws than that which they have exerted hitherto; and the possibledesirability of the direct exercise of this function cannot be disputedby any loyal democrat. The principle upon which the referendum is basedis unimpeachable; but a question remains as to the manner in which theprinciple of direct legislation can be best embodied in a piece ofpractical political machinery; and the attempt to solve this questioninvolves a consideration of the general changes in our system of localgovernment, which may be required, as a result of the application of thenew principle. 

The necessary limits of this discussion forbid any exhaustiveconsideration of the foregoing questions; and I must content myself witha brief summary of the method in which the principle of directlegislation can be made the part of an efficient local political system. The difficulty is to find some means of distinguishing that part of thelegislative responsibility which should be retained by the people andthat part which, in order to be effectively redeemed, must be delegated. Obviously the part to be retained is the function of accepting orrejecting certain general proposals respecting state organization orpolicy. An American electorate is or should be entirely competent todecide whether in general it wishes gambling or the sale of intoxicatingliquors to be suppressed, whether it is willing or unwilling to delegatelarge judicial and legislative authority to commissions, or whether itwishes to exempt buildings from local taxation. In retaining the powerof deciding for itself these broad questions of public legislativepolicy, it is exercising a function, adapted to the popular intelligenceand both disciplinary and formative in its effect on those who take theresponsibility seriously. Under any system of popular government--evenunder a parliamentary system--such general questions are eventuallysubmitted to popular decision; and the more decisively they can besubmitted, the better. On the other hand, there is a large part of thework of government, which must be delegated by the people to selectindividuals, because it can be efficiently exercised only by peculiarlyexperienced or competent men. The people are capable of passing upon thegeneral principle embodied in a proposed law; but they cannot beexpected to decide with any certainty of judgment about amendments ordetails, which involve for their intelligent consideration technical andspecial knowledge. Efficient law-making is as much a matter ofwell-prepared and well-tempered detail as it is of an excellent generalprinciple, and this branch of legislation must necessarily be left toexperts selected in one way or another to represent the popularinterest. How can they best be selected and what should be theirfunctions?

An answer to these questions involves a consideration of the changeswhich the referendum should bring with it in the whole system of localgovernment--an aspect of the matter which according to the usualAmerican habit has hitherto been neglected. In states like Oregon thepower of initiating and consummating legislation is bestowed on theelectorate without being taken away from the legislature; and a certainshare of necessary political business is left to a body which has beenexpressly declared unworthy to exercise a more important share of thesame task. A legislative body, whose responsibilities and power arestill further reduced, will probably exercise their remaining functionswith even greater incompetence, and will, if possible, be composed of astill more inferior class of legislative agents. If the legislature isto perform the inferior but still necessary functions that willnecessarily remain in its hands, an attempt should certainly be made toobtain a better quality of representation. No direct system of stategovernment can constitute any really substantial improvement on theexisting system, unless either the legislature is deprived of all reallyessential functions, or the quality of its membership improved. 

The legislature, or some representative body corresponding to it, cannot, however, be deprived of certain really essential functions. Thetask of preparing legislation for reference to the people, so that aquestion of public policy will be submitted in a decisive and acceptableform, belongs naturally to a representative body; and the same statementis true respecting the legislative work essential to the administrationof a state's business affairs. The supply bills demand an amount ofinspection in detail, which can obtain only by expert supervision; andso it is in respect to various minor legislative matters which do notraise question of general policy but which amount to little more thanproblems of local administrative detail. A representative body must beprovided which shall perform work of this kind; and again, it must besaid that existing legislatures would perform these more restrictedfunctions even worse than they have performed a completer legislativeduty. Their members are experts in nothing but petty local politics. They are usually wholly incapable of drawing a bill, or of passingintelligently on matters either of technical or financial detail. Ifthey represent anything, it is the interest of their district ratherthan that of the state. The principle of direct legislation, in order tobecome really constructive, must bring with it a more effectiveauxiliary machinery than any which existing legislatures can supply. 

The kind of machinery needed can be deduced from the character of thework. The function of the representative body, needed under a system ofdirect legislation, is substantially that of a legislative andadministrative council or commission. It should be an experienced bodyof legal, administrative, and financial experts, comparatively limitedin numbers, and selected in a manner to make them solicitous of theinterests of the whole state. They should be elected, consequently, fromcomparatively large districts, or, if possible, by the electorate of thewhole state under some system of cumulative voting. The work of such acouncil would not be in any real sense legislative; and its creationwould simply constitute a candid recognition of the plain fact that ourexisting legislatures, either with or without the referendum, no longerperform a responsible legislative function. It would be tantamount to ascientific organization of the legislative committees, which at thepresent time exercise an efficient control over the so-calledlegislative output. This council would mediate between the governor, who administered the laws, and the people, who enacted them. It wouldconstitute a check upon the governor, and would in turn be checked byhim; while it would act in relation to the people as a sort of technicaladvisory commission, with the duty of preparing legislation for popularenactment or rejection. 

But how would such specific legislative proposals originate? Beforeanswering this question let us consider how important bills actuallyoriginate under the existing system. They are in almost every caseimposed upon the legislature by some outside influence. Sometimes theyare prepared by corporation lawyers and are introduced by the specialcorporation representatives. Sometimes they originate with the party"bosses, " and are intended to promote some more or less importantpartisan purpose. Sometimes they are drawn by associations of reformers, and go to the legislature with whatever support from public opinion theassociation can collect. Finally, they are frequently introduced at thesuggestion of the governor; and of late years during the growth of thereform movement, the executive has in point of fact become more and moreresponsible for imposing on the legislature laws desired or supposed tobe desired by the electorate. Of these different sources of existinglegislation, the last suggests a manner of initiating legislation, whichis most likely to make for the efficient concentration of governmentalresponsibility. The governor should be empowered not merely to suggestlegislation to the council, but to introduce it into the council. Hisright to introduce legislation need not be exclusive, but billsintroduced by him should have a certain precedence and theirconsideration should claim a definite amount of the council's time. Thecouncil would possess, of course, full right of rejection or amendment. In the case of rejection or an amendment not acceptable to the governorthe question at issue would be submitted to popular vote. 

The method of originating legislation suggested above is, of course, entirely different from that ordinarily associated with the referendum. According to the usual methods of direct legislation, any body ofelectors of a certain size can effect the introduction of a bill and itssubmission to popular vote; but a method of this kind is really nomethod at all. It allows the electorate to be bombarded with asuccession of legislative proposals, turning perhaps on radicalquestions of public policy like the single tax, which may be well or illdrawn, which may or may not be living questions of the day, which may ormay not have received sufficient preparatory discussion, and which wouldkeep public opinion in a wholly unnecessary condition of ferment. Someorganized control over the legislative proposals submitted to popularapproval is absolutely necessary; and the sort of control suggestedabove merely conforms to the existing unofficial practice of thosestates wherein public opinion has been aroused. The best reformlegislation now enacted usually originates in executive mansions. Whyshould not the practice be made official? If it were so, every candidatefor governor would have to announce either a definite legislative policyor the lack of one; and the various items composing this policy would befully discussed during the campaign. In proposing such a policy thegovernor would be held to a high sense of responsibility. He could notescape from the penalties of an unwise, an ill-drawn, or a foolhardylegislative proposal. At the same time he would be obliged constantly tomeet severe criticism both as to the principle and details of hismeasures on the part of the legislative council. Such criticism wouldfasten upon any weakness and would sufficiently protect the publicagainst the submission of unnecessary, foolish, or dangerous legislativeproposals. 

I am aware, of course, that the plan of legislative organization, vaguely sketched above, will seem to be most dubious to the greatmajority of Americans, intelligently interested in political matters;but before absolutely condemning these suggestions as wild or dangerous, the reader should consider the spirit in which and the purpose for whichthey are made. My intention has not been to prepare a detailed plan oflocal governmental organization and to stamp it as the only one, whichis correct in principle and coherent in detail. In a sense I carenothing about the precise suggestions submitted in the precedingparagraphs. They are offered, not as a definite plan of local politicalorganization, but as the illustration of a principle. The principle isthat both power and responsibility in affairs of local government shouldbe peculiarly concentrated. It cannot be concentrated without somesimplification of machinery and without giving either the legislature orthe executive a dominant authority. In the foregoing plan the executivehas been made dominant, because as a matter of fact recent politicalexperience has conclusively proved that the executives, elected by thewhole constituency, are much more representative of public opinion thanare the delegates of petty districts. One hundred district agentsrepresent only one hundred districts and not the whole state, or thestate in so far as it is whole. In the light of current Americanpolitical realities the executive deserves the greater share ofresponsibility and power; and that is why the proposal is made to bestowit on him. The other details of the foregoing plan have been proposed ina similar spirit. They are innovations; but they are innovations whichmay naturally (and perhaps should) result from certain living practicesand movements in American local politics. They merely constitute anattempt to give those ideas and practices candid recognition. No suchreorganization may ever be reached in American local government; and Imay have made essential mistakes in estimating the real force of certaincurrent practices and the real value of certain remedial expedients. Buton two points the argument admits of no concession. Any practical schemeof local institutional reform must be based on the principle of moreconcentrated responsibility and power, and it must be reached bysuccessive experimental attempts to give a more consistent and efficientform to actual American political practices. 

The bestowal upon an executive of increased official responsibility andpower will be stigmatized by "old-fashioned Democrats" as dangerouslydespotic; and it may be admitted that in the case of the centralgovernment, any official increase of executive power might bring with itthe risk of usurpation. The Constitution of the United States has madethe President a much more responsible and vigorous executive in his ownsphere of action than are the governors of the several states in theirs;and he can with his present power exercise a tolerably effective controlover legislation. But the states, for reasons already given, areprotected against the worst possible consequences of illegal usurpation;and in any event the people, in case their interests were threatened, could make use of a simple and absolutely effective remedy. The actionof the governor or of any member of the legislative council could bechallenged by the application of the recall. He could be made to provehis loyalty to the Constitution and to the public interest by theholding of a special election at the instance of a sufficient number ofvoters; and if he could not justify any possibly dubious practices, hecould be displaced and replaced. The recall is for this purpose a usefuland legitimate political device. It has the appearance at the firstglance of depriving an elected official of the sense of independence andsecurity which he may derive from his term of office; and unquestionablyif applied to officials who served for very short terms and exercised noeffective responsibility during service it would deprive them of whatlittle power of public service they possessed. On the other hand, it isright that really responsible and vigorous officials serving forcomparatively long terms should be subjected to the check of a possiblerecall of the popular trust. 

No plan of political organization can in the nature of things offer anabsolute guarantee that a government will not misuse its powers; but agovernment of the kind suggested, should it prove to be either corruptor incompetent, could remain in control only by the express acquiescenceof the electorate. Its corruption and incompetence could not beconcealed, and would inevitably entail serious consequences. On theother hand, the results of any peculiar efficiency and political wisdomwould be equally conspicuous. Men of integrity, force, and ability wouldbe tempted to run for office by the stimulating opportunity offered foreffective achievement. Such a government would, consequently press intoits service whatever public-spirited and energetic men the communitypossessed; and it would represent not an inferior or even an averagestandard public opinion and ideas, but the highest standard which thepeople could be made to accept. Provided only the voters themselves wereon the whole patriotic, well-intentioned, and loyal, it would be boundto make not for a stagnant routine, but for a gradually higher level oflocal political action. 

II

STATE ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM

The foregoing discussion of the means which may be taken to makeAmerican local governments more alive to their responsibilities has beenconfined to the department of legislation. The department ofadministration is, however, almost equally important; and some attemptmust be made to associate with a reform of the local legislature areform of the local administration. The questions of administrativeefficiency and the best method of obtaining it demand special anddetailed consideration. In this case the conclusions reached will applyas much to the central and municipal as they do to the stateadministrations; but the whole matter of administrative efficiency canbe most conveniently discussed in relation to the proper organization ofa state government. The false ideas and practices which have caused somuch American administrative inefficiency originated in the states andthence infected the central government. On the other hand, the reform ofthese practices made its first conquests at Washington and thereafterwas languidly and indifferently taken over by many of the states. Thestate politicians have never adopted it in good faith, because realadministrative efficiency would, by virtue of the means necessarilytaken to accomplish it, undermine the stability of the politicalmachine. The power of the machine can never be broken without a completereform of our local administrative systems; and the discussion of thatreform is more helpful in relation to the state than in relation to thecentral government. 

Civil service reform was the very first movement of the kind to make anyheadway in American politics. Within a few years after the close of theWar it had waxed into an issue which the politicians could not ignore;and while its first substantial triumph was postponed until late in theseventies, it has, on the whole, been more completely accepted than anyimportant reforming idea. It has secured the energetic support of everyPresident during the last twenty-five years; it has received at allevents the verbal homage of the two national parties; and it can pointto affirmative legislation in the great majority of the states. It meetsat the present time with practically no open and influential opposition. Nevertheless, the "merit system" has not met the expectations of itsmost enthusiastic supporters. Abuses have been abolished wherever thereform has been introduced, but the abolition of abuses has not made forany marked increase of efficiency. The civil service is still very farfrom being in a satisfactory condition either in the central, state, ormunicipal offices. Moreover, the passage of reform laws has not had anyappreciable effect upon the vitality or the power of the professionalpolitician. The machine has, on the whole, increased rather thandiminished in power, during the past twenty-five years. Civil servicereform is no longer as vigorously opposed as it used to be, because itis no longer feared. The politicians have found that in its ordinaryshape it really does not do them any essential harm. The consequence isthat the agitation has drifted to the rear of the American politicalbattle, and fails to excite either the enthusiasm, the enmity, or theinterest that it did fifteen years ago. 

Its partial failure has been due to the fact that the reformers merelyattacked one of the symptoms of a disease which was more deeply rootedand more virulent than they supposed. They were outraged by theappointment of administrative officials solely as a reward for partisanservice and without reference to their qualifications for their officialduties; and two means were devised to strike at this abuse. Loweradministrative officials were protected in their positions by deprivingtheir superiors of the power of removing them except for cause; and itwas provided that new appointments should be made from lists ofcandidates whose eligibility was guaranteed by their ability to passexaminations in subjects connected with the work of the office. Thesewere undoubtedly steps in a better direction; but they have failed to beeffective, because the attempt to secure a more meritorious selection ofpublic servants was not applied to higher grades of the service. At thehead of every public office was a man who had been appointed or electedchiefly for partisan reasons; who served only for a short time; whocould become familiar with the work of his office, if at all, onlyslowly; and who, because of his desire to be surrounded by his ownhenchmen, was the possible enemy of the permanent staff. The civilservice laws have been designed, consequently, to a very considerableextent for the purpose of protecting the subordinates against theirchiefs; and that is scarcely to be conceived as a method of organizingadministrative employees helpful to administrative efficiency. Thechiefs were allowed comparatively little effective authority over theirsubordinates, and subordinates could not be held to any effectiveresponsibility. A premium was placed upon ordinary routine work whichobserved carefully all the official forms, but which was calculated withequal care not to task its perpetrators. 

The American civil service will never be really reformed by the sort ofcivil service laws which have hitherto been passed--no matter howfaithfully those laws may be executed. The only way in whichadministrative efficiency can be secured is by means of an organizationwhich makes a departmental chief absolutely responsible for energeticwork and economical administration in his office; and no suchresponsibility can exist as long as his subordinates are independent ofhim. He need not necessarily have the power to discharge hissubordinates, except with the consent of a Board of Inspectors; but heshould have the power to promote them to positions of greaterresponsibility and income, or to degrade them to comparativelyinsignificant positions. Efficiency cannot be secured in any other way, because no executive official can be held accountable for good workunless his control over his subordinates is effective. So far as theexisting civil service laws in city, state, and the United States failto bestow full responsibility, coupled with sufficient authority, upondepartmental chiefs, they should be altered; and their alteration shouldbe made part of any plan of constructive reform in the civil service. 

The responsibility of departmental chiefs and their effective authorityover their subordinates necessarily imply changes in the current methodsof selecting these officials. The prevailing methods are unwise andchaotic. In some cases they are appointed by the chief executive. Inother cases they are elected. But whether appointed or elected, they areselected chiefly for partisan service. They hold office only for a fewyears. They rarely have any particular qualification for their work. They cannot be expected either to take very much interest in theirofficial duties or use their powers in an efficient manner. To give suchtemporary officeholders a large measure of authority over theirsubordinates would mean in the long run that such authority would beused chiefly for political purposes. Administrative efficiency, consequently, can only be secured by the adoption of a method ofselecting departmental chiefs which will tend to make them expert publicservants rather than politicians. They must be divorced from politicalassociations. They must be emancipated from political vicissitudes. Thesuccess of their career must depend exclusively upon the excellence oftheir departmental work. 

As long as these public servants are elected, no such result can beexpected. The practice of electing the incumbents of subordinateexecutive positions inevitably invites the evasion of responsibility andthe selection of the candidate chiefly for partisan service. When such aman stands for renomination or reëlection, his administrative efficiencyor inefficiency (unless the latter should chance to be particularlyflagrant) does not affect his chances. He is renominated in case he hasserved his party well, or in case no one else who wants the job has inthe meantime served it better. He is reëlected in case his party happensto have kept public confidence. Departmental chiefs can be maderesponsible for their work only by being subordinated to a chiefexecutive whose duty it is to keep his eye on his subordinates and whois accountable to the people for the efficient conduct of all theadministrative offices. The former, consequently, must be selected byappointment, they must be installed in office for an indefinite period, and they must be subject to removal by the chief executive. Those areterms upon which all private employees serve; and on no other terms willequally efficient results be obtained from public officials. 

Under a democratic political system there is, of course, no way ofabsolutely guaranteeing that any method of administrative organization, however excellent in itself, will accomplish the desired and thedesirable result. Administrative authority must at some point alwaysoriginate in an election. The election can delegate power only for alimited period. At the end of the limited period another executive willbe chosen--possibly a man representing a wholly different politicalpolicy. Such a man will want his immediate advisers to share hispolitical point of view; and it is always possible that in electing himthe voters will make a mistake and choose an incompetent andirresponsible person. An incompetent or disloyal executive couldundoubtedly under such a system do much to disorganize the publicservice; but what will you have? There can be no efficiency withoutresponsibility. There can be no responsibility without authority. Theauthority and responsibility residing ultimately in the people must bedelegated; and it must not be emasculated in the process of delegation. If it is abused, the people should at all events be able to fix theoffense and to punish the offender. At present our administration isorganized chiefly upon the principle that the executive shall not bepermitted to do much good for fear that he will do harm. It ought to beorganized on the principle that he shall have full power to do eitherwell or ill, but that if he does do ill, he will have no defense againstpunishment. The principle is the same as it is in the case oflegislative responsibility. If under those conditions the voters shouldpersist in electing incompetent or corrupt executives, they woulddeserve the sort of government they would get and would probably in theend be deprived of their vote. 

A system of local government, designed for concentrating power andresponsibility, might, consequently, be shaped along the followinggeneral lines. Its core would be a chief executive, elected for acomparatively long term, and subject to recall under certain definedconditions. He would be surrounded by an executive council, similar tothe President's Cabinet, appointed by himself and consisting of aController, Attorney General, Secretary of State, Commissioner of PublicWorks, and the like. So far his position would not differ radically fromthat of the President of the United States, except that he would besubject to recall. But he would have the additional power of introducinglegislation into a legislative council and, in case his proposedlegislation were rejected or amended in an inacceptable manner, ofappealing to the electorate. The legislative council would be electedfrom large districts and, if possible, by some cumulative system ofvoting. They, also, might be subject to recall. They would have thepower, dependent on the governor's veto, of authorizing theappropriation of public money and, also, of passing on certain minorclasses of legislation--closely associated with administrativefunctions. But in relation to all legislation of substantial importanceexpress popular approval would be necessary. The chief executive shouldpossess the power of removing any administrative official in the employof the state and of appointing a successor. He would be expected tochoose an executive council who agreed with him in all essential mattersof public policy, just as the President is expected to appoint hisCabinet. His several councilors would be executive officials, responsible for particular departments of the public service; but theywould exercise their authority through permanent departmentalchiefs--just as the Secretary of War delegates much of his authority toa chief of staff, or an English minister to a permanent under-secretary. The system could offer no guarantee that the subordinate departmentalchiefs would be absolutely permanent; but at all events they would notbe changed at fixed periods or for irrelevant reasons. They would bejust as permanent or as transient as the good of the service demanded. In so far, that is, as the system was carried out in good faith theywould be experts, absolutely the masters of the technical business ofthe offices and of the abilities and services of their subordinates. Theweak point in such administrative organization is undoubtedly therelation between the members of the governor's council and their chiefsof staff; but there must be a weak link in any organization which seeksto convert the changing views of public policy, dependent upon anelection, into responsible, efficient, and detailed administrative acts. If the system were not accepted in good faith, if in the long run itwere not carried out by officials, who were disinterestedly andintelligently working in the public interest, it would be bound to fail;but so would any method of political organization. This particular plansimply embodies the principle that the way to get good public serviceout of men is to give them a sufficient chance. 

Under the proposed system the only powers possessed by the stateexecutive, not now bestowed upon the President of the United States, would consist in an express and an effective control over legislation. It would be his duty to introduce legislation whenever it was in hisopinion desirable; and in case his bills were amended to death orrejected, it would be his right to appeal to the people. He would, inaddition, appoint all state officials except the legislative council, and perhaps the judges of the highest court. On the other hand, he wouldbe limited by the recall and he could not get any important legislativemeasure on the statute books except after severe technical criticism, and express popular consent. He could accomplish nothing without thesupport of public opinion; yet he could be held absolutely responsiblefor the good government of the state. A demagogue elected to a positionof such power and responsibility might do a great deal of harm; but if ademocratic political body cannot distinguish between the leadership ofable and disinterested men and self-seeking charlatans, the loss andperhaps the suffering, resulting from their indiscriminate blindness, would constitute a desirable means of political education, --particularlywhen the demagogue, as in the case under consideration, could not reallydamage the foundations of the state. And the charlatan or theincompetent could be sent into retreat just as soon as exposed. Thedanger not only has a salutary aspect, but it seems a small price to payfor the chance, thereby afforded, for really efficient and responsiblegovernment. The chief executive, when supported by public opinion, wouldbecome a veritable "Boss"; and he would inevitably be the sworn enemy ofunofficial "Bosses" who now dominate local politics. He would have thepower to purify American local politics, and this power he would beobliged to use. The logic of his whole position would convert him intoan enemy of the machine, in so far as the machine was using anygovernmental function for private, special, or partisan purposes. Thereal "Boss" would destroy the sham "Bosses"; and no other means, as yetsuggested, will, I believe, be sufficient to accomplish such a result. 

After the creation of such a system of local government the power of theprofessional politician would not last a year longer than the peoplewanted it to last. The governor would control the distribution of allthose fruits of the administrative and legislative system upon which themachine has lived. There could be no trafficking in offices, in publiccontracts, or in legislation; and the man who wished to serve the stateunofficially would have to do so from disinterested motives. Moreover, the professional politician could not only be destroyed, but he wouldnot be needed. At present he is needed, because of the prodigious amountof business entailed by the multiplicity of elective officials. Somebodymust take charge of this political detail; and it has, as we havealready remarked, drifted into the hands of specialists. Thesespecialists cannot be expected to serve for nothing. Their effort toconvert their work into a means of support is the source of the greaterpart of the petty American political corruption; and such corruptionwill persist as long as any real need exists for the men who live uponit. The simplest way to dispense with the professional politician is todispense with the service he performs. Reduce the number of electiveofficials. Under the proposed method of organization the number ofelections and the number of men to be elected would be comparativelyfew. The voter would cast his ballot only for his local selectmen orcommissioners, a governor, one or more legislative councilmen, thejustices of the state court of appeals, and his Federal congressman andexecutive. The professional politician would be left without aprofession. He would have to pass on his power to men who would beofficially designated to rule the people for a limited period, and whocould not escape full responsibility for their public performances. 

I have said that no less drastic plan of institutional reorganizationwill be sufficient to accomplish the proposed result; and a briefjustification must be afforded for this statement. It was expected, forinstance, that the secret Australian ballot would do much to underminethe power of the professional politician. He would be prevented therebyfrom controlling his followers and, in case of electoral trades, from, "delivering the goods. " Well! the Australian ballot has been adoptedmore or less completely in the majority of the states; and it hasundoubtedly made open electoral corruption more difficult and lesscommon than it once was. But it has not diminished the personal andpartisan allegiance on which the power of the local "Boss" is based; andit has done the professional politician as little serious harm as havethe civil service laws. Neither can it be considered an ideal method ofballoting for the citizens of a free democracy. Independent voting andthe splitting of tickets is essential to a wholesome expression ofpublic opinion; but in so far as such independence has to be purchasedby secrecy its ultimate value may be doubted. American politics willnever be "purified" or its general standards improved by an independencewhich is afraid to come out into the open; and it is curious that withall the current talk about the wholesome effects of "publicity" thereformed ballot sends a voter sneaking into a closet in order to performhis primary political duty. If American voters are more independent thanthey used to be, it is not because they have been protected by the stateagainst the penalties of independence, but because they have beenaroused to more independent thought and action by the intrusion and thediscussion of momentous issues. In the long run that vote which isreally useful and significant is the vote cast in the open with a fullsense of conviction and responsibility. 

Another popular reforming device which belongs to the same class andwhich will fail to accomplish the expected result is the system ofdirect primaries. It may well be that this device will in the long runmerely emphasize the evil which it is intended to abate. It will tend toperpetuate the power of the professional politician by making hisservices still more necessary. Under it the number of elections will bevery much increased, and the amount of political business to betransacted will grow in the same proportion. In one way or another theprofessional politician will transact this business; and in one way oranother he will make it pay. Under a system of direct primaries themachine could not prevent the nomination of the popular candidatewhenever public opinion was aroused; so it is with the existing system. But whenever public interest flags, --and it is bound to flag under suchan absurd multiplication of elections and under such a complication ofelectoral machinery, --the politicians can easily nominate their owncandidates. Up to date no method has been devised which would preventthem from using their personal followers in the primary elections ofboth parties; and no such method can be devised without enforcing somecomparatively fixed distinction between a Republican and a Democrat, andthus increasing the difficulties of independent voting. In case thenumber of elective officials were decreased, as has been proposed above, there would be fewer objections to the direct primary. Under thesuggested method of organization each election would become of suchimportance that public opinion would be awakened and would be likely toobtain effective expression; and the balloting for the party candidateswould arouse as much interest, particularly in the case of the dominantparty, as the final election itself. In fact, the danger would be undersuch circumstances that the primaries would arouse too much interest, and that the parties would become divided into embittered andunscrupulous factions. Genuinely patriotic and national parties mayexist; but a genuinely patriotic faction within a party would be aplant of much rarer growth. From every point of view, consequently, thedirect primary has its doubtful aspects. The device is becoming sopopular that it will probably prevail; and as it prevails, it may havethe indirect beneficial result of diminishing the number of regularelections; but at bottom it is a clumsy and mechanical device for theselection of party candidates. It is merely one of the many meansgenerated by American political practice for cheapening the ballot. Theway to make votes important and effective is not to increase but todiminish their number. 

A democracy has no interest in making good government complicated, difficult, and costly. It has, on the contrary, every interest in sosimplifying its machinery that only decisive decisions and choices aresubmitted to the voter. Every attempt should be made to arouse hisinterest and to turn his public spirit to account; and for that reasonit should not be fatigued by excessive demands and confused bycomplicated decisions. The cost of government in time, ability, training, and energy should fall not upon the followers but upon theleaders; and the latter should have every opportunity to make theexpenditure pay. Such is the object of the foregoing suggestions towardsreconstruction which, radical as they may seem, have been suggestedchiefly by an examination of the practical conditions of contemporaryreform. Only by the adoption of some such plan can the reformers becomesomething better than perpetual moral protestants who are fighting abattle in which a victory may be less fruitful than defeat. As it is, they are usually flourishing in the eyes of the American people a flaskof virtue which, when it is uncorked, proves to be filled with oaths ofoffice. The reformers must put strong wine into their bottle. They mustmake office-holding worth while by giving to the officeholders the powerof effecting substantial public benefits. 

III

POSSIBILITIES OF EFFECTIVE STATE ACTION

The questions relating to the kind of reforms which these reorganizedstate governments might and should attempt to bring about need not beconsidered in any detail. In the case of the states institutionalreconstruction is necessarily prior to social reconstruction; and theobjects for which their improved powers can be best used need at presentonly be indicated. These objects include, in fact, practically all theprimary benefits which a state ought to confer upon its citizens; and itis because the states have so largely failed to confer these primarybenefits that the reconstruction necessarily assumes a radicalcomplexion. It is absurd to discuss American local governments as agentsof individual and social amelioration until they begin to meet theirmost essential and ordinary responsibilities in a more satisfactorymanner. 

Take, for instance, the most essential function of all--that ofmaintaining order. A state government which could not escape and had thecourage to meet its responsibilities would necessarily demand from thepeople a police force which was really capable of keeping the peace. Itcould not afford to rely upon local "posses" and the militia. It wouldneed a state constabulary, subject to its control and numerous enoughfor all ordinary emergencies. Such bodies of state police, efficientlyused, could not only prevent the lawlessness which frequentlyaccompanies strikes, but it could gradually stamp out lynch law. Lynching, which is the product of excited local feeling, will never bestopped by the sheriffs, because they are afraid of local publicopinion. It will never be stopped by the militia, because the militia isslow to arrive and is frequently undisciplined. But it can be stopped bya well-trained and well-disciplined state constabulary, which can bequickly concentrated, and which would be independent of merely localpublic opinion. When other states besides Pennsylvania establishconstabularies, it will be an indication that they really want to keeporder; and when the Southern states in particular organize forces ofthis kind, there will be reason to believe that they really desire to dojustice to the negro criminal and remove one of the ugliest aspects ofthe race question. 

A well-informed state government would also necessarily recognize theintimate connection between the prevention of lynching and the speedyand certain administration of criminal justice. It would seek not merelyto stamp out disorder, but to anticipate it by doing away with thesubstantial injustice wrought by the procedure of the great majority ofAmerican criminal courts. It is unnecessary to dwell at any length uponthe work of reorganization which would confront a responsible stategovernment in relation to the punishment and the prevention of crime, because public opinion is becoming aroused to the dangers which threatenAmerican society from the escape of criminals and the lax and sluggishadministration of the criminal laws. But the remark must be made thatour existing methods of framing, executing, and expounding criminal lawsare merely an illustration of the extent to which the state governments, under the influence of traditional legal and political preconceptions, have subordinated the collective social interest to that of the possibleindividual criminal; and no thorough-going reform will be possible untilthese traditional preconceptions have themselves been abandoned, and asystem substituted which makes the state the efficient friend of thecollective public interest and the selected individual. 

Assuming, then, that they use their increased powers more effectuallyfor the primary duty of keeping order, and administering civil andcriminal justice, reforming state governments could proceed to manyadditional tasks. They could redeem very much better than they do theirresponsibility to their wards--the insane and the convicted criminals. At the present time some states have fairly satisfactory penitentiaries, reformatories, and insane asylums, while other states have utterlyunsatisfactory ones; but in all the states both the machinery and themanagement are capable of considerable improvement. The steady increaseboth of crime and insanity is demanding the most serious considerationof the whole problem presented by social dereliction--particularly forthe purpose of separating out those criminals and feeble-minded peoplewho are capable of being restored to the class of useful citizens. Infact a really regenerated state government might even consider thepossible means of preventing crime and insanity. It might have thehardihood to inquire whether the institution of marriage, which wouldremain under exclusive state protection, does not in its existing formhave something to do with the prevalence and increase of insanity andcrime; and it might conceivably reach the conclusion that the enforcedcelibacy of hereditary criminals and incipient lunatics would make forindividual and social improvement even more than would a maximumpassenger fare on the railroads of two cents a mile. Moreover, whiletheir eyes were turned to our American success in increasing the socialas well as the economic output, they might pause a moment to considerthe marvelous increase of divorces. They might reflect whether thisincrease, like that of the criminals and the insane, did not afford apossible subject of legislation, but I doubt whether even a regeneratestate government would reach any very quick or satisfactory conclusionsin respect to this matter. Public opinion does not appear to havedecided whether the social fact of divorce abounding is to be consideredas an abuse or as a fulfillment of the existing institution of marriage. 

Neither need the pernicious activity of such a government cease, afterit has succeeded in radically improving its treatment of the criminaland its lunatics, and in possibly doing something to make the Americanhome less precarious, if less cheerful. It might then turn its attentionto the organization of labor, in relation to which, as we shall seepresently, the states may have the opportunity for effective work. Or aninquiry might be made as to whether the educational system of thecountry, which should remain under exclusive state jurisdiction, is welladapted to the extremely complicated purpose of endowing its variouspupils with the general and special training most helpful to thecreation of genuine individuals, useful public servants, and loyal andcontented citizens of their own states. In this matter of education thestate governments, particularly in the North, have shown abundant andencouraging good will; but it is characteristic of their generalinefficiency that a good will has found its expression in acomparatively bad way. 

It would serve no good purpose to push any farther the list of excellentobjects to which the state governments might devote their liberated andliberalized energies. We need only add that they would then be capable, not merely of more efficient separate action, but also of far moreprofitable coöperation. In case the states were emancipated from theirexisting powerless subjection to individual, special, and parochialinterests, the advantages of a system of federated states would beimmediately raised to the limit. The various questions of social andeducational reform can only be advanced towards a better understandingand perhaps a partial solution by a continual process ofexperimentation--undertaken with the full appreciation that they weretentative and would be pushed further or withdrawn according to thenature of their results. Obviously a state government is a much betterpolitical agency for the making of such experiments than is a governmentwhose errors would affect the population of the whole country. No bettermachinery for the accomplishment of a progressive programme of socialreform could be advised than a collection of governments endowed withthe powers of an American state, and really desirous of advancingparticular social questions towards their solution. Such a system wouldbe flexible; it would provoke emulation; it would encourage initiative;and it would take advantage of local ebullitions of courage and insightand any peculiarly happy local collection of circumstances. Finally, ifin addition to the merits of a system of generous competition, it couldadd those of occasional consultation and coöperation, such as is impliedby the proposed "House of Governors, " the organization for social reformwould leave little to be desired. The governors who would meet inconsultation would be the real political leaders of their severalstates; and they should meet, not so much for the purpose of agreeingupon any single group of reforming measures, as for the purpose ofcomparing notes obtained under widely different conditions and as theresult of different legislative experiments. Just in so far as thismixture of generous competition and candid coöperation was seeking toaccomplish constructive social purposes, for which the powers of thestates, each within its geographical limits, were fully adequate, justto that extent it could hardly fail to make headway in the direction ofsocial reform. 

If the state governments are to reach their maximum usefulness in theAmerican political system, they must not only be self-denying in respectto the central government, but generous in respect to theircreatures--the municipal corporations. There are certain business andsocial questions of exclusively or chiefly local importance which shouldbe left to the municipal governments; and it is as characteristic of theunregenerate state governments of the past and the present that theyhave interfered where they ought not to interfere as that they have notinterfered where they had an excellent opportunity for effective action. A politically regenerated state would guarantee in its constitution amuch larger measure of home rule to the cities than they now enjoy, while at the same time the reformed legislative authority would endeavorto secure the edifying exercise of these larger powers, not by anembarrassing system of supervision, but by the concentration of theadministrative power and responsibility of the municipal authorities. Ishall not attempt to define in detail how far the measure of home ruleshould go; but it may be said in general that the functions delegated orpreserved should so far as possible be completely delegated orpreserved. This rule cannot be rigidly applied to such essentialfunctions of the state governments as the preservation of order and thesystem of education. The delegation of certain police powers and acertain control over local schools is considered at present bothconvenient and necessary, although in the course of time such may nolonger be the case; but if these essential functions are delegated, thestate should retain a certain supervision over the manner of theirexercise. On the other hand, the municipality as an economic andbusiness organism should be left pretty much to its own devices; and itis not too much to say that the state should not interfere in thesematters at all, except under the rarest and most exceptional conditions. 

The reasons for municipal home rule in all economic and businessquestions are sufficiently obvious. A state is a political and legalbody; and as a political and legal body it cannot escape its appropriatepolitical and social responsibilities. But a state has in the greatmajority of cases no meaning at all as a center of economic organizationand direction. The business carried on within state limits is eitheressentially related by competition to the national economic system, --orelse it is essentially municipal in its scope and meaning. Of course, such a statement is not strictly true. The states have certain essentialeconomic duties in respect to the conservation and development ofagricultural resources and methods and to the construction andmaintenance of a comprehensive system of highways. But these legitimateeconomic responsibilities are not very numerous or very onerous comparedto those which should be left to the central government on the one handor to the municipal governments on the other. A municipality is a livingcenter of economic activity--a genuine case of essentially localeconomic interests. To be sure, the greater part of the manufacturing orcommercial business transacted in a city belongs undubitably to thenational economic system; but there is a minor part which is exclusivelylocal. Public service corporations which control franchises in cities donot enter into inter-state commerce at all--except in those unusualcases (as in New York) where certain parts of the economic municipalbody are situated in another state. They should be subject, consequently, to municipal jurisdiction and only that. The city alonehas anything really important to gain or to lose from their proper orimproper treatment; and its legal responsibility should be as completeas its economic localization is real. 

There is no need of discussing in any detail the way in which amunicipal government which does enjoy the advantage of home rule and anefficient organization can contribute to the work of national economicand social reconstruction. Public opinion is tending to accept much moreadvanced ideas in this field of municipal reform than it is in any otherpart of the political battle-field. Experiments are already being tried, looking in the direction of an increasingly responsible municipalorganization, and an increasing assumption by the city of economic andsocial functions. Numerous books are being written on various aspects ofthe movement, which is showing the utmost vitality and is constantlymaking progress in the right direction. In all probability, the Americancity will become in the near future the most fruitful field foreconomically and socially constructive experimentation; and the effectof the example set therein will have a beneficially reactive effect uponboth state and Federal politics. The benefits which the city governmentscan slowly accomplish within their own jurisdiction are considerable. They do not, indeed, constitute the exclusive "Hope of Democracy, "because the ultimate democratic hope depends on the fulfillment ofnational responsibilities; and they cannot deal effectively with certainof the fundamental social questions. But by taking advantage of itseconomic opportunities, the American city can gradually diminish theeconomic stress within its own jurisdiction. It has unique chance ofappropriating for the local community those sources of economic valuewhich are created by the community, and it has an equally uniqueopportunity of spending the money so obtained for the amelioration ofthe sanitary, if not of the fundamental economic and social, conditionof the poorer people. 

There is, finally, one fundamental national problem with which the stategovernments, no matter to what extent they may be liberated andinvigorated, are wholly incompetent to deal. The regulation of commerce, the control of corporations, and the still more radical questionsconnected with the distribution of wealth and the prevention ofpoverty--questions of this kind should be left exclusively to thecentral government; or in case they are to any extent allowed to remainunder the jurisdiction of the states, they should exercise suchjurisdiction as the agents of the central government. The stategovernments lack and must always lack the power and the independencenecessary to deal with this whole group of problems; and as long as theyremain preoccupied therewith, their effective energy and good intentionswill be diverted from the consideration of those aspects of politicaland social reform with which they are peculiarly competent to deal. Thewhole future prosperity and persistence of the American Federal systemis bound up in the progressive solution of this group of problems; andif it is left to the conflicting jurisdictions of the central and localgovernments, the American democracy will have to abandon in this respectthe idea of seeking the realization of a really national policy. Justification for these statements will be offered in the followingchapter. 

CHAPTER XII

PROBLEMS OF RECONSTRUCTION--(_continued_)

Any proposal to alter the responsibilities and powers now enjoyed by thecentral and the state governments in respect to the control ofcorporations and the distribution of wealth involves, of course, theFederal rather than the state constitutions; and the amendment of theformer is both a more difficult and a more dangerous task than is theamendment of the latter. A nation cannot afford to experiment with itsfundamental law as it may and must experiment with its localinstitutions. As a matter of fact the Federal Constitution is very muchless in need of amendment than are those of the several states. It is onthe whole an admirable system of law and an efficient organ ofgovernment; and in most respects it should be left to the ordinaryprocess of gradual amendment by legal construction until the Americanpeople have advanced much farther towards the realization of a nationaldemocratic policy. Eventually certain radical amendments will beindispensable to the fulfillment of the American national purpose; butexcept in one respect nothing of any essential importance is to begained at present by a modification of the Federal Constitution. Thisexception is, however, of the utmost importance. For another generationor two any solution of the problem of corporation control, and of allthe other critical problems connected therewith, will be complicated, confused, and delayed by the inter-state commerce clause, and by theimpossibility, under that clause, of the exercise of any reallyeffective responsibility and power by the central government. Thedistinction between domestic and inter-state commerce which is impliedby the Constitutional distribution of powers is a distinction ofinsignificant economic or industrial importance; and its necessary legalenforcement makes the carrying out of an efficient national industrialpolicy almost impossible. 

Under the inter-state commerce clause, a corporation conducting, as alllarge companies do, both a state and an inter-state business, issubject to several supplementary jurisdictions. It is subject, ofcourse, primarily to the laws of the state under which it is organized, and to the laws of the same state regulating its own particular form ofindustrial operation. It is subject, also, to any conditions which thelegislatures of other states may wish to impose upon its business, --inso far as that business is transacted within their jurisdictions. Finally, it is subject to any regulation which the central governmentmay impose upon its inter-state transactions. From the standpoint oflegal supervision, consequently, the affairs of such a corporation aredivided into a series of compartments, each compartment being determinedby certain arbitrary geographical lines--lines which do not, like theboundaries of a municipality, correspond to any significant economicdivision. As long as such a method of supervision endures, no effectiveregulation of commerce or industry is possible. A corporation is not acommercial Pooh-Bah, divided into unrelated sections. It is anindustrial and commercial individual. The business which it transacts inone state is vitally related to the business which it transacts in otherstates; and even in those rare cases of the restriction of a business tothe limits of a single state, the purchasing and selling made in itsinterest necessarily compete with inter-state transactions in the sameproducts. Thus the Constitutional distinction between state andinter-state commerce is irrelevant to the real facts of Americanindustry and trade. 

In the past the large corporations have, on the whole, rather preferredstate to centralized regulation, because of the necessary inefficiencyof the former. Inter-state railroad companies usually exercised adominant influence in those states under the laws of which they hadincorporated; and this influence was so beneficial to them that theywere quite willing for the sake of preserving it to subsidize thepolitical machine and pay a certain amount of blackmail. In this way thePennsylvania Railroad Company exercised a dominant influence in thepolitics of Pennsylvania and New Jersey; the New York Central was notafraid of anything that could happen at Albany; the Boston and Mainepretty well controlled the legislation of the state of New Hampshire;and the Southern Pacific had its own will in California. Probably inthese and other instances the railroads acquired their politicalinfluence primarily for purposes of protection. It was the cheapest formof blackmail they could pay to the professional politicians; and in thisrespect they differed from the public service corporations, which havefrequently been active agents of corruption in order to obtain publicfranchises for less than their value. But once the railroads hadacquired their political influence, they naturally used it for their ownpurposes. They arranged that the state railroad commissioners should betheir clerks, and that taxation should not press too heavily upon them. They were big enough to control the public officials whose duty it wasto supervise them; and they were content with a situation which leftthem free from embarrassing interference without being over-expensive. 

The situation thereby created, however, was not only extremelyundesirable in the public interest, but it was at bottom extremelydangerous to the railroads. These companies were constantly extendingtheir mileage, increasing their equipment, improving their terminals, and enlarging their capital stock. Their operations covered manydifferent states, and their total investments ran far into the hundredsof millions of dollars. In the meantime they remained subject to one orseveral different political authorities whose jurisdiction extended overonly a portion of their line and a fraction of their business, but whocould none the less by unwise interference throw the whole system out ofgear, and compromise the earning power of many millions of dollarsinvested in other states. Moreover, they could, if they chose, make allthis trouble with a comparative lack of responsibility, because only afraction of the ill effects of this foolish regulation would be feltwithin the guilty state. As a matter of fact many railroads hadexperiences of this kind with the Western states, and were obliged todefend themselves against legislative and administrative dictation, which if it did not amount to confiscation, always applied narrow andrigid restrictive methods to a delicate and complicated economicsituation. Most of the large Eastern and some of the large Westerncompanies purchased immunity from such "supervision, " and were wellcontent; but it was mere blindness on their part not to understand thatsuch a condition, with the ugly corruption it involved, could notcontinue. The time was bound to come when an aroused public opinionwould undermine their "influence, " and would retaliate by imposing uponthem restrictions of a most embarrassing and expensive character. In sodoing the leaders of a reformed and aroused public opinion might behonestly seeking only legitimate regulation; but the more the stateauthorities sought conscientiously to regulate the railroads the worsethe confusion they would create. The railroad could not escape somerestrictive supervision; neither were they obliged wholly to submit toit on the part of any one state. The situation of a railroad runningthrough half a dozen states, and subject to the contradictory andirresponsible orders of half a dozen legislatures or commissions mightwell become intolerable. 

Just this sort of thing has been recently happening. The stateauthorities began to realize that their lax methods of railwaysupervision were being used as an argument for increased Federalinterference. So the state governments arose in their might and beganfuriously to "regulate" the railroads. Commissions were constituted orre-constituted, and extremely drastic powers were granted to theseofficials in respect to the operation of the railroads, the rates andthe fares charged, and their financial policies. Bills were passedseverely restricting the rights which companies had enjoyed of owningthe stock of connecting railroads. Many of the states sought to forbidthe companies from charging more than two cents a mile for passengerfares. The issuing of passes except under severe restrictions was madeillegal. The railroad companies were suddenly confronted by a mass ofhostile and conflicting legislation which represented for the most partan honest attempt to fulfill a neglected responsibility, but whoseeffort on the whole merely embarrassed the operations of the roads, andwhich in many instances failed to protect the real public interestsinvolved. Even when this legislation was not ignorantly and unwiselyconceived, and even when it was prepared by well-informed andwell-intentioned men, it was informed by contradictory ideas and a falseconception of the genuine abuses and their necessary remedies. Consequently, a certain fraction of intelligent and disinterested publicopinion began soon to realize that the results of a vigorous attempt onthe part of the state governments to use their powers and to fulfilltheir responsibilities in respect to the railroads were actually worseand more dangerous to the public interest than was the previous neglect. The neglect of the responsibility implied corruption, because itprovoked blackmail. The vigorous fulfillment of the responsibilityimplied confusion, cross-purposes, and excessive severity, because thepowers of a single state were too great within its specific jurisdictionand absolutely negligible beyond. 

The railroad companies suffer more from this piecemeal and conflictingregulation than do corporations engaged in manufacturing operations, notonly because they discharge a peculiarly public function, but becausetheir business, particularly in its rate-making aspect, suffers severelyfrom any division by arbitrary geographical lines. But all largeinter-state corporations are more or less in the same situation. Corporations such as the Standard Oil Company and some of the large NewYork life insurance companies are confronted by the alternative eitherof going out of business in certain states, or of submitting torestrictions which would compromise the efficiency of their wholebusiness policy. Doubtless they have not exhausted the evasive anddilatory methods which have served them so well in the past; but littleby little the managers of these corporations are coming to realize thatthey are losing more than they gain from subjection to so manyconflicting and supplementary jurisdictions. Little by little they arecoming to realize that the only way in which their businesses can obtaina firm legal standing is by means of Federal recognition and exclusiveFederal regulation. They would like doubtless to continue to escape anyeffective regulation at all; but without it they cannot obtain effectiverecognition, and in the existing ferment of public opinion recognitionhas become more important to them than regulation is dangerous. 

Many important financiers and corporation lawyers are still bitterlyopposed to any effective centralized regulation, even if accompanied byrecognition; but such opposition is not merely inaccessible to thelessons of experience, but is blinded by theoretical prejudice. Doubtless the position of being, on the one hand, inefficientlyregulated by the state governments, and, on the other hand, of beingefficiently protected in all their essential rights by the Federalcourts--doubtless such a situation seems very attractive to men whoneed a very free hand for the accomplishment of their business purposes;but they should be able to understand that it would necessarily produceendless friction. The states may well submit to the constant extensionof a protecting arm to corporations by the Federal courts, provided thecentral government is accomplishing more efficiently than can anycombination of state governments the amount of supervision demanded bythe public interest. But if the Federal courts are to be constantlyinvoked, in order to thwart the will of state legislatures andcommissions, and if at the same time the authority which protects eitherneglects or is unable effectively to supervise, there is bound to be arevival of anti-Federal feeling in its most dangerous form. Whatever thecorporations may suffer from the efficient exercise of Federalregulative powers, they have far more to fear from the action of thestate governments--provided such action proceeds from an irresponsiblelocal radicalism embittered by being thwarted. The public opinion onwhich the corporations must depend for fair treatment is national ratherthan local; and just in as far as they can be made subject to exclusivecentralized jurisdiction, just to that extent is there a good chance oftheir gradual incorporation into a nationalized economic and legalsystem. 

The control of the central government over commerce and the corporationsshould consequently be substituted for the control of the states ratherthan added thereto; and this action should be taken not in order toenfeeble American local governments, but to invigorate them. Theenjoyment by any public authority of a function which it cannotefficiently perform is always a source of weakness rather than ofstrength; and in this particular case it is a necessary source, notmerely of weakness, but of corruption. The less the state governmentshave to do with private corporations whose income is greater than theirown, the better it will be for their morals, and the more effectivelyare they likely to perform their own proper and legitimate functions. Several generations may well elapse before the American public opinionwill learn this lesson; and even after it is well learned there will beenormous and peculiar obstacles to be removed before they can turn theirinstruction to good account. But in the end the American FederalConstitution, like all the Federal Constitutions framed during the pastcentury, will have to dispense with the distinction between state andinter-state commerce; and the national authority will prevail, notbecause there is any peculiar virtue in the action of the centralgovernment, but because there is a peculiar vice in asking the stategovernments to regulate matters beyond their effective jurisdiction. 

II

THE RECOGNITION OF INDUSTRIAL ORGANIZATION

The central government in its policy toward the large corporations mustadopt one of two courses. Either it must discriminate in their favor orit must discriminate against them. The third alternative--that of beingwhat is called "impartial"--has no real existence; and it is essentialthat the illusory nature of a policy of impartiality should in thebeginning be clearly understood. 

A policy of impartiality is supposed to consist in recognizing theexistence of the huge industrial and railroad organizations, while atthe same time forbidding them the enjoyment of any of those littledevices whereby they have obtained an unfair advantage over competitors. It would consist, that is, of a policy of recognition tempered byregulation; and a policy of this kind is the one favored by the majorityof conservative and fair-minded reformers. Such a policy hasunquestionably a great deal to recommend it as a transitional means ofdealing with the problem of corporate aggrandizement, but let there beno mistake: it is not really a policy of strict neutrality between thesmall and the large industrial agent. Any recognition of the largecorporations, any successful attempt to give them a legal standing asauthentic as their economic efficiency, amounts substantially to adiscrimination in their favor. 

The whole official programme of regulation does not in any effective wayprotect their competitors. Unquestionably these large corporations havein the past thrived partly on illegal favors, such as rebates, whichwould be prevented by the official programme of regulation; but at thepresent time the advantage which they enjoy over their competitors isindependent of such practices. It depends upon their capture andoccupation of certain essential strategic positions in the economicbattle-field. It depends upon abundant capital, which enables it to takeadvantage of every opportunity, and to buy and sell to the bestadvantage. It depends upon the permanent appropriation of essentialsupplies of raw materials, such as iron ore and coal, or of terminals inlarge cities, which cannot now be duplicated. It depends uponpossibilities of economic industrial management and of the systematicdevelopment of individual industrial ability and experience which existto a peculiar degree in large industrial enterprises. None of thesesources of economic efficiency will be in any way diminished by theofficial programme of regulation. The corporations will still possesssubstantially all of their existing advantages over their competitors, while to these will be added the additional one of an unimpeachablelegal standing. Like the life insurance companies after the process ofpurgation, they will be able largely to reduce expenses by abolishingtheir departments of doubtful law. 

Thus the recognition of the large corporation is equivalent to theperpetuation of its existing advantages. It is not an explicitdiscrimination against their smaller competitors, but it amounts to suchdiscrimination. If the small competitor is to be allowed a chance ofregaining his former economic importance, he must receive the activeassistance of the government. Its policy must become, not one ofrecognition, but one of recognition under conditions which would impairthe efficiency of the large industrial organizations. Mr. William J. Bryan's policy of a Federal license granted only under certain rigidconditions as to size, is aimed precisely at the impairment of theefficiency of the "trusts, " and the consequent active discrimination infavor of the small competitor; but the Roosevelt-Taft programme allowsthe small competitor only such advantages as he is capable of earningfor himself; and it must be admitted that these advantages are, particularly in certain dominant industries, not of a very encouragingnature. 

Nevertheless, at the last general election the American people cast adecisively preponderant vote in favor of the Roosevelt-Taft programme;and in so doing they showed their customary common sense. The hugecorporations have contributed to American economic efficiency. Theyconstitute an important step in the direction of the betterorganization of industry and commerce. They have not, except in certainexceptional cases, suppressed competition; but they have regulated it;and it should be the effort of all civilized societies to substitutecoöperative for competitive methods, wherever coöperation can prove itsefficiency. Deliberately to undo this work of industrial and commercialorganization would constitute a logical application of the principle ofequal rights, but it would also constitute a step backward in theprocess of economic and social advance. The process of industrialorganization should be allowed to work itself out. Whenever the smallercompetitor of the large corporation is unable to keep his head abovewater with his own exertions, he should be allowed to drown. That thesmaller business man will entirely be displaced by the large corporationis wholly improbable. There are certain industries and lines of trade inwhich he will be able to hold his own; but where he is not able to holdhis own, there is no public interest promoted by any expensive attemptto save his life. 

The Sherman Anti-Trust Law constitutes precisely such an attempt to savethe life of the small competitor; and in case the Roosevelt-Taft policyof recognition tempered by regulation is to prevail, the first step tobe taken is the repeal or the revision of that law. As long as itremains on the statute books in its existing form, it constitutes anannouncement that the national interest of the American people demandsactive discrimination in favor of the small industrial and commercialagent. It denies the desirability of recognizing what has already beenaccomplished in the way of industrial and commercial organization; andaccording to prevalent interpretations, it makes the legal standing ofall large industrial combinations insecure--no matter how conducive toeconomic efficiency their business policy may be. 

Assuming, however, that the Sherman Anti-Trust Law can be repealed, andthat the Roosevelt-Taft policy of recognition tempered by regulation beadopted, the question remains as to the manner in which such a policycan best be carried out. Certain essential aspects of this question willnot be discussed in the present connection. The thorough carrying out ofa policy of recognition would demand a Federal incorporation act, underwhich all corporations engaged in anything but an exclusively localbusiness would be obliged to organize; but, as we have already seen, such an act would be unconstitutional as applied to many technicallydomestic corporations, and it would probably be altogetherunconstitutional, except, perhaps, under limitations which would make itvalueless. It may be that some means will be found to evade theseConstitutional difficulties, or it may not be. These are matters onwhich none but the best of Constitutional lawyers have any right to anopinion. But in any event, I shall assume that the Federal governmentcan eventually find the legal means to make its policy of recognitioneffective and to give the "trust" a definite legal standing. What sortof regulation should supplement such emphatic recognition?

The purpose of such supervision is, of course, to prevent those abuseswhich have in the past given the larger corporation an illegal or an"unfair" advantage over its competitors; and the engine which Americanlegislatures, both Federal and state, are using for the purpose is thecommission. The attempt to define in a comprehensive statute just whatcorporations may do, or must in the public interest be forbidden fromdoing, is not being tried, because of the apparent impossibility ofproviding in advance against every possible perversion of the publicinterest in the interest of the private corporation. The responsibilityof the legislature for the protection of the public interest isconsequently delegated to a commission whose duties are partlyadministrative and partly either legislative or judicial. The mostcomplete existing type of such a delegated power is not the FederalInter-state Commerce Commission, but the Public Service Commissions ofNew York State; and in considering the meaning and probable effects ofthis kind of supervision I shall consider only the completed type. AFederal Inter-state Commerce Commission which was fully competent tosupervise all inter-state commerce and all commerce competing therewithwould necessarily possess powers analogous to those bestowed upon theNew York Public Service Commissions. 

The powers bestowed upon those commissions are based upon the assumptionthat the corporations under their jurisdiction cannot be trusted to takeany important decision in respect to their business without officialapproval. All such acts must be known to the commission, and be eitherexpressly or tacitly approved, and the official body has the power ofordering their wards to make any changes in their service or rates whichin the opinion of the commission are desirable in the public interest. Thus the commission is required not only to approve all agreements amongcorporations, all mergers, all issues of securities, but they are ingeneral responsible for the manner in which the corporations areoperated. The grant of such huge powers can be explained only on theground that the private interest of these corporations is radicallyopposed to the interest of their patrons. Public opinion must havedecided that if left to themselves, the corporations will behave, on thewhole, in a manner inimical to the public welfare; and their businessmust consequently be actually or tacitly "regulated" in every importantdetail. 

One may well hesitate wholly to condemn this government by commission, because it is the first emphatic recognition in American political andeconomic organization of a manifest public responsibility. In the pastthe public interests involved in the growth of an extensive and highlyorganized industrial system have been neither recognized nor promoted. They have not been promoted by the states, partly because the statesneither wanted to do so, nor when they had the will, did they have thepower. They have not been promoted by the central government becauseirresponsibility in relation to national economic interest was, thetariff apart, supposed to be an attribute of the central authority. Anylegislation which seeks to promote this neglected public interest isconsequently to be welcomed; but the welcome accorded to thesecommissions should not be very enthusiastic. It should not be any moreenthusiastic than the welcome accorded by the citizens of a kingdom tothe birth of a first child to the reigning monarchs, --a child who turnsout to be a girl, incapable under the law of inheriting the crown. Afemale heir is under such circumstances merely the promise of betterthings; and so these commissions are merely an evidence of good will andthe promise of something better. As initial experiments in the attemptto redeem a neglected responsibility, they may be tolerated; but if theyare tolerated for too long, they may well work more harm than good. 

The constructive idea behind a policy of the recognition ofsemi-monopolistic corporations, is, of course, the idea that they can beconverted into economic agents which will make unequivocally for thenational economic interest; and it is natural that in the beginninglegislators should propose to accomplish this result by rigid andcomprehensive official supervision. But such supervision, while it woulderadicate many actual and possible abuses, would be just as likely todamage the efficiency which has been no less characteristic of thesecorporate operations. The only reason for recognizing the largecorporations as desirable economic institutions is just their supposedeconomic efficiency; and if the means taken to regulate them impair thatefficiency, the government is merely adopting in a roundabout way apolicy of destruction. Now, hitherto, their efficiency has been partlythe product of the unusual freedom they have enjoyed. Unquestionablythey cannot continue to enjoy any similar freedom hereafter; but inrestricting it care should be taken not to destroy with the freedom theessential condition of the efficiency. The essential condition ofefficiency is always concentration of responsibility; and the decisiveobjection to government by commission as any sufficient solution of thecorporation problem is the implied substitution of a system of dividedfor a system of concentrated responsibility. 

This objection will seem fanciful and far-fetched to the enthusiasticadvocates of reform by commission. They like to believe that under asystem of administrative regulation abuses can be extirpated without anydiminution of the advantages hitherto enjoyed under private management;but if such proves to be the case, American regulative commissions willestablish a wholly new record of official good management. Suchcommissions, responsible as they are to an insistent and uninformedpublic opinion, and possessed as they inevitably become of the peculiarofficial point of view, inevitably drift or are driven to incessant, vexatious, and finally harmful interference. The efficient conduct ofany complicated business, be it manufacturing, transportation, orpolitical, always involves the constant sacrifice of an occasional or alocal interest for the benefit of the economic operation of the wholeorganization. But it is just such sacrifices of local and occasional toa comprehensive interest which official commissions are not allowed bypublic opinion to approve. Under their control rates will be madechiefly for the benefit of clamorous local interests; and little bylittle the economic organization of the country, so far as affected bythe action of commission government, would become the increasing rigidvictim of routine management. The flexibility and enterprise, characteristic of our existing national economic organization, wouldslowly disappear; and American industrial leaders would lose theinitiative and energy which has contributed so much to the efficiency ofthe national economic system. Such a result would, of course, only takeplace gradually; but it would none the less be the eventual result ofany complete adoption of such a method of supervision. The friends ofcommission government who expect to discipline the big corporationsseverely without injuring their efficiency are merely the victims of anerror as old as the human will. They "want it both ways. " They want toeat their cake and to have it. They want to obtain from a system ofminute official regulation and divided responsibility the same economicresults as have been obtained from a system of almost complete freedomand absolutely concentrated responsibility. 

The reader must not, however, misinterpret the real meaning of theobjection just made to corporation reform by means of commissions. I cansee no ground for necessarily opposing the granting of increased powerand responsibility to an official or a commission of officials, merelybecause such officials are paid by the government rather than by aprivate employer. But when such a grant is considered necessary, theattempt should be to make the opportunity for good work comprehensiveand commensurate with the responsibility. The sort of officialism ofwhich the excavations at Panama or the reclamation service is a samplehas as much chance of being efficient under suitable conditions as hasthe work of a private corporation. The government assumes completecharge of a job, and pushes it to a successful or unsuccessfulconclusion, according to the extent with which its tradition ororganization enables it to perform efficient work. Moreover, there is acertain kind of official supervision of a private business which doesnot bring with it any divided responsibility. Perhaps the bestillustration thereof is the regulation to which the national banks areobliged to submit. In this case the bank examiners and the Controller donot interfere in the management of the bank, except when the managementis violating certain conditions of safe banking--which have beencarefully defined in the statute. So long as the banks obey the law, they need have no fear of the Treasury Department. But in commissiongovernment the official authority, in a sense, both makes andadministers the law. The commission is empowered to use its owndiscretion about many matters, such as rates, service, equipment, andthe like, in relation to which the law places the corporation absolutelyin its hands. Such official interference is of a kind which can hardlyfail in the long run to go wrong. It is based on a false principle, andinterferes with individual liberty, not necessarily in an unjustifiableway, but in a way that can hardly be liberating in spirit orconstructive in result. 

The need for regulation should not be made the excuse for bestowing uponofficials a responsibility which they cannot in the long run properlyredeem. In so far as the functions of such commissions are reallyregulative, like the functions of the bank examiners, they may for thepresent perform a useful public service. These commissions should beconstituted partly as bureaus of information and publicity, and partlyas an administrative agency to secure the effective enforcement of thelaw. In case the Sherman Anti-Trust Law were repealed, the lawsubstituted therefor should define the kind of combination amongcorporations and the kind of agreements among railroads which werepermissible, and the commission should be empowered to apply the law toany particular consolidation or contract. Similar provision should bemade in respect to railroad mergers, and the purchases by one railroadof the stock of another. The purposes for which new securities might belegitimately issued should also be defined in the statute, and thecommission allowed merely to enforce the definitions. Common carriersshould be obliged, as at present, to place on record their schedules ofrates, and when a special or a new rate was made, notification should berequired to the commission, together with a statement of reasons. Finally the commission should have the completest possible power ofinvestigating any aspect of railway and corporation management orfinance the knowledge of which might be useful to Congress. Theunflinching use of powers, vaguely sketched above, would be sufficientto prevent mere abuses, and they could be granted without making anybody of officials personally responsible for any of the essentialdetails of corporation management. 

If the commission is granted the power to promulgate rates, to controlthe service granted to the public, or to order the purchase of newequipment, it has become more than a regulative official body. It hasbecome responsible for the business management of the corporationcommitted to its charge; and again it must be asserted that mixedcontrol of this kind is bound to take the energy and initiative out ofsuch business organizations. Neither has any necessity for reducingpublic service corporations to the level of industrial minors beensufficiently demonstrated. In the matter of service and rates theinterest of a common carrier is not at bottom and in the long runantagonistic to the interest of its patrons. The fundamental interest ofa common carrier is to develop traffic, and this interest coincides withthe interest in general of the communities it serves. This interest canbest be satisfied by allowing the carrier freedom in the making of itsschedules--subject only to review in particular cases. Special instancesmay always exist of unnecessarily high or excessively discriminatoryrates; and provisions should be made for the consideration of suchcases, perhaps, by some court specially organized for the purpose; butthe assumption should be, on the whole, that the matter of rates andservice can be left to the interest of the corporation itself. In noother way can the American economic system retain that flexibility withwhich its past efficiency has been associated. In no other way can thepolicy of these corporations continue to be, as it has so often been inthe past, in an economic sense genuinely constructive. This flexibilityfrequently requires readjustments in the conditions of local industrywhich cause grave losses to individuals or even communities; but it isjust such readjustments which are necessary to continued economicefficiency; and it is just such readjustments which would tend to beprevented by an official rate-making authority. An official rate-makingpower would necessarily prefer certain rigid rules, favorable to theexisting distribution of population and business. Every tendency to anew and more efficient distribution of trade would be checked, becauseof its unfairness to those who suffer from it. Thus the Americanindustrial system would gradually become petrified, and the nationalorganization of American industry would be sacrificed for the benefit ofan indiscriminate collection of local interests. 

If the interest of a corporation is so essentially hostile to the publicinterest as to require the sort of official supervision provided by theNew York Public Service Commission Law, the logical inference therefromis not a system of semi-official and semi-private management, but asystem of exclusively public management. The logical inference therefromis public ownership, if not actual public operation. Public ownership isnot open to the same theoretical objections as is government bycommission. It is not a system of divided responsibility. Politicalconditions and the organization of the American civil service being whatthey are, the attempt of the authorities to assume such a responsibilitymight not be very successful; but the fault would in that case reside inthe general political and administrative organization. The communitycould not redeem the particular responsibility of owning and operating arailroad, because it was not organized for the really efficient conductof any practical business. The rejection of a system of divided personalresponsibility between public and private officials does notconsequently bring with it necessarily the rejection of a system ofpublic ownership, if not public operation; and if it can be demonstratedin the case of any particular class of corporations that its interesthas become in any essential respect hostile to the public interest, aconstructive industrial policy demands, not a partial, but a much morecomplete, shifting of the responsibility. 

That cases exist in which public ownership can be justified on theforegoing grounds, I do not doubt; but before coming to theconsideration of such cases it must be remarked that this new phase ofthe discussion postulates the existence of hitherto neglected conditionsand objects of a constructive industrial policy. Such a policy startedwith the decision, which may be called the official decision, of theAmerican electorate, to recognize the existing corporate economicorganization; and we have been inquiring into the implications of thisdecision. Those implications include, according to the results of theforegoing discussion, not only a repeal of the Sherman Anti-Trust Law, but the tempering of the recognition with certain statutory regulations. It by no means follows that such regulation satisfies all the objects ofa constructive national economic policy. In fact it does not satisfy theneeds of a national economic policy at all, just in so far as such apolicy is concerned not merely with the organization of industry, butwith the distribution of wealth. But inasmuch as the decision hasalready been reached in preceding chapters that the national interest ofa democratic state is essentially concerned with the distribution ofwealth, the corporation problem must be considered quite as much in itsrelation to the social problem as to the problem of economic efficiency. 

The American corporation problem will never be understood in its properrelations and full consequences until it is conceived as a sort of anadvanced attack on the breastworks of our national economic system bythis essential problem of the distribution of wealth. The currentexperiments in the direction of corporate "regulation" are prompted by acurious mixture of divergent motives. They endeavor to evade afundamental responsibility by meeting a superficial one. They endeavorto solve the corporation problem merely by eradicating abuses, theimplication being that as soon as the abuses are supervised out ofexistence, the old harmony between public and private interest in theAmerican economic system will be restored, and no more "socialistic"legislation will be required. But the extent to which this veryregulation is being carried betrays the futility of the expectation. Andas we have seen, the intention of the industrial reformers is tointroduce public management into the heart of the American industrialsystem; that is, into the operation of railroads and public servicecorporations, and in this way to bring about by incessant officialinterference that harmony between public and private interest which mustbe the object of a national economic system. But this proposed remedy issimply one more way of shirking the ultimate problem; and it is thelogical consequence of the persistent misinterpretation of ourunwholesome economic inequalities as the result merely of the abuse, instead of the legal use, of the opportunities provided by the existingeconomic system. 

An economic organization framed in the national interest would conformto the same principles as a political organization framed in thenational interest. It would stimulate the peculiarly efficientindividual by offering him opportunities for work commensurate with hisabilities and training. It would grant him these opportunities underconditions which would tend to bring about their responsible use. And itwould seek to make the results promote the general economic welfare. Thepeculiar advantage of the organization of American industry which hasgradually been wrought during the past fifty years is precisely theopportunity which it has offered to men of exceptional ability toperform really constructive economic work. The public interest hasnothing to gain from the mutilation or the destruction of thesenationalized economic institutions. It should seek, on the contrary, topreserve them, just in so far as they continue to remain efficient; butit should at the same time seek the better distribution of the fruits ofthis efficiency. The great objection to the type of regulationconstituted by the New York Public Service Commission Law is that ittends to deprive the peculiarly capable industrial manager of anysufficient opportunity to turn his abilities and experience to goodaccount. It places him under the tutelage of public officials, responsible to a public opinion which has not yet been sufficientlynationalized in spirit or in purpose, and in case this tutelage fails ofits object (as it assuredly will) the responsibility for the failurewill be divided. The corporation manager will blame the commissions forvexatious, blundering, and disheartening interference. The commissionswill blame the corporation manager for lack of cordial coöperation. Theresult will be either the abandonment of the experiment or thesubstitution of some degree of public ownership. But in either event theconstructive economic work of the past two generations will be in somemeasure undone; and the American economic advance will be to that extentretarded. Such obnoxious regulation has been not unjustly compared tothe attempt to discipline a somewhat too vivacious bull by the simpleprocess of castration. For it must be substituted an economic policywhich will secure to the nation, and the individual the opportunitiesand the benefits of the existing organization, while at the same timeseeking the diffusion of those benefits over a larger social area. 

III

THE FRUITS OF INDUSTRIAL ORGANIZATION

The only sound point of departure for a national economic policy is, aswe have seen, the acceptance by the state of certain of the results ofcorporate industrial organization. Such state recognition is equivalentto discrimination in their favor, because it leaves them in possessionof those fundamental economic advantages, dependent on terminals, largecapital, and natural resources, which place them beyond effectivecompetition; and the state has good reason to suffer thisdiscrimination, because a wise government can always make more socialcapital out of a coöperative industrial organization than it can out ofan extremely competitive one. 

It is extremely improbable that, even when officially recognized in thisway, the process of corporate combination would go beyond a certainpoint. It might result in a condition similar to that which now prevailsin the steel industry or that of sugar refining; but it should be addedthat in industries organized to that extent there is not very muchcompetition in prices. Prices are usually regulated by agreement amongthe leading producers; and competition among the several producers turnsupon quickness of delivery and the quality of the service or product. Whether or not this restriction of competition works badly dependsusually upon the enlightened shrewdness with which the schedule of ratesand prices is fixed. A corporation management which was thoroughly aliveto its own interest would endeavor to arrange a scale of prices, which, while affording a sufficient profit, would encourage the increased useof the product, and that is precisely the policy which has been adoptedby the best managed American railroad and industrial corporations. Butit must always be kept in mind that, in the absence of a certain amountof competition, such a policy cannot be taken wholly for granted. Ashort-sighted management may prefer to reap large profits for a shorttime and at the expense of the increased use of its product or service. Moreover, the margin between the cost of production and the particularprice at which the product or service can be sold consistent with itslargely increasing use may enable the producer to gather enormousprofits; and such profits may not stimulate competition to anyeffective extent, precisely because they depend upon advantages inproduction which cannot be duplicated. No state desirous of promotingthe economic welfare of its citizens can remain indifferent to thechance thus afforded of earnings disproportionately large to theeconomic service actually rendered. 

In dealing with this question of possibly excessive profits under such amethod of economic organization, the state has many resources at itsdisposal besides the most obvious one of incessant official interferencewith the essentials of corporation management. Of these the most usefulconsists unquestionably in its power of taxation. It can constitute asystem of taxation, in respect to the semi-monopolistic corporations, which would deprive them of the fruits of an excessively large marginbetween the cost of production and the price at which the product orservice could be increasingly sold. Net profits could be taxed at a ratewhich was graduated to the percentage paid; and beyond a certain pointthe tax should amount to much the larger fraction of the profits. Inthis way a semi-monopolistic corporation would not have any interest inseeking profits beyond a certain percentage. A condition would beestablished which, while it would not deprive the managers of acorporation of full responsibility for the conduct of its business, would give them an additional inducement always to work for thepermanent improvement of the economic relation of the corporation to thecommunity. They would have no interest in preferring large but insecurenet earnings to smaller ones, founded on a thoroughly satisfactoryservice, a low schedule of prices, and the constantly increasingefficiency of the plant and organization of the company. 

The objection will, no doubt, be immediately urged that a system of thiskind would prevent any improvement of service from going beyond acertain point, just because it would cease to be profitable beyond acertain point. But such an objection would not be valid, provided thescale of taxation were properly graduated. I shall not attempt to defineany precise scale which would serve the purpose because the possibleadoption of such a plan is still too remote; but the state should, inreturn for the protection it extends to these semi-monopolisticcorporations, take a certain percentage of all profits, and, while thispercentage should increase until it might at a certain level reach asmuch as one half or three quarters, it should not become larger thanthree quarters--except in the case of a corporation earning, say, morethan 20 per cent on its capital. To be sure the establishment even ofsuch a level would conceivably destroy the interested motive forincreased efficiency at a certain point, but such a point could hardlybe reached except in the case of companies whose monopoly was almostcomplete. 

The foregoing plan, however, is not suggested as a final and entirelysatisfactory method of incorporating semi-monopolistic businessorganizations into the economic system of a nationalizing democracy. Ido not believe that any formula can be framed which will by the magic ofsome chemical process convert a purely selfish economic motive into anunqualified public economic benefit. But some such plan as that proposedabove may enable an industrial democracy to get over the period oftransition between the partial and the complete adaptation of thesecompanies to their place in a system of national economy. They can neverbe completely incorporated so long as the interest of their owners isdifferent from that of the community as a whole, but in the meantimethey can be encouraged to grow and perhaps to become more efficient, while at the same time they can be prevented from becoming a source ofundesirable or dangerous individual economic inequalities; and I do notbelieve that such a transitional system of automatically regulatedrecognition would be open to the same objections as would a system ofincessant official interference. In so far, indeed, as the constructiveindustrial leader is actuated merely by the motive of amassing moremillions than can be of any possible use to himself or his children--inso far as such is the case, the inducement to American industrialorganization on a national scale would be impaired. But if an economicdemocracy can purchase efficient industrial organization on a huge scaleonly at the price of this class of fortunes, then it must be contentwith a lower order of efficiency, and American economic statesmanshiphas every reason to reject such an alternative until there is no helpfor it. The best type of American millionaire seems always to have hadas much interest in the work and in the game as in its prodigiousrewards; and much of his work has always been done for him by employeeswho, while they were paid liberally, did not need the inducement of moremoney than they could wholesomely spend in return, for service of thehighest efficiency. 

In any event the plan of an automatically regulated recognition ofsemi-monopolistic corporations would be intended only as a transitionalmeasure. Its object would be to give these somewhat novel industrialagents a more prolonged and thorough test than any they have yetreceived. If they survived for some generations and increased inefficiency and strength, it could only be because the advantages theyenjoyed in the way of natural resources, abundant capital, organization, terminals, and responsible management were decisive and permanent; andin that case the responsibility of the state could not be limited totheir automatic regulation and partial assimilation. A policy must beadopted of converting them into express economic agents of the wholecommunity, and of gradually appropriating for the benefit of thecommunity the substantial economic advantages which these corporationshad succeeded in acquiring. Just in so far, that is, as a monopoly or asemi-monopoly succeeded in surviving and growing, it would partake ofthe character of a natural monopoly, and would be in a position toprofit beyond its deserts from the growth of the community. In thatevent a community which had any idea of making economic responsibilitycommensurate with power would be obliged to adopt a policy of gradualappropriation. 

The public service corporations in the large cities have already reachedthe stage of being recognized natural monopolies. In the case of thesecorporations public opinion is pretty well agreed that a monopolycontrolling the whole service is more likely to be an efficient servantof the city than a number of separate corporations, among whomcompetition in order to be effective must be destructive and wasteful. American municipal policy is consequently being adapted to the idea ofmonopolized control of these public services. The best manner of dealingwith these monopolies, after they have been created and recognized, isnot settled by any means to the same extent; but the principle ofrestricting the franchises under which they operate to a limited term ofyears is well established, and the tendency is towards a constantreduction of the length of such leases and towards the retention of aright of purchase, exercisable at all or at certain stated times. TheAmerican city has come to realize that such privileges possess a valuewhich increases automatically with the growth of the city and with theguarantee against competition; and this source of value should never bealienated except for a short period and on the most stringent terms. Wherever, consequently, a city has retained any control over suchfranchises, it is converting the public service corporations merely intotemporary tenants of what are essentially exclusive economic privileges. During the period of its tenancy the management of a corporation hasfull opportunity to display any ability and energy whereof it may bepossessed; and such peculiarly efficient management should be capable ofearning sufficient if not excessive rewards. In the meantime, anyincrease in value which would result inevitably from the possession of amonopoly in a growing community would accrue, as it should, to thecommunity itself. 

The only alternative to such a general scheme of municipal policy inrelation to public service corporations would be one of municipaloperation as well as municipal ownership; and municipal operationunquestionably has certain theoretical advantages. When a corporationenjoys a tenancy for a stated term only, there is always a danger thatit will seek temporarily larger profits by economizing on the quality ofits service. It has not the same interest in building up a permanentlyprofitable business that it would in case it were owner as well asoperator. This divergence of interest may lead to a good deal offriction; but for the present at least the mixed system of publicownership and private operation offers the better chance of satisfactoryresults. As long as the municipal civil service remains in its existingdisorganized and inefficient condition, the public administration shouldnot be granted any direct responsibility which can be withheld withoutendangering an essential public interest. A system of public operationwould be preferable to one of divided personal responsibility betweenpublic and private officials; but when a mixed system can be createdwhich sharply distinguishes the two responsibilities one from anotherwithout in any way confusing them, it combines for the time being amaximum of merit with a minimum of friction. 

Such a system carries with it, however, two results, not alwaysappreciated. A municipality which embarks upon a policy of guaranteeingmonopolies and leasing the enjoyment thereof should make all permanentimprovements to the system at its own expense, and its financialorganization and methods must be adapted to the necessity of raising aliberal supply of funds for such essential purposes. Its borrowingcapacity must not be arbitrarily restricted as in the case of so manyAmerican cities at the present time; and, of course, any particularlease must be arranged so as to provide not only the interest on themoney raised for all work of construction, but for the extinction of thedebt thereby incurred. Furthermore a city adopting such a policy shouldpush it to the limit. Wherever, as is so often the case, privatecompanies now enjoy a complete or a substantial monopoly of any service, and do so by virtue of permanent franchises, every legal means should betaken to nullify such an intolerable appropriation of the resources ofthe community. Persistent and ruthless war should be declared upon theseunnatural monopolies, because as long as they exist they are an absolutebar to any thoroughly democratic and constructive system of municipaleconomy. Measures should be taken which under other circumstances wouldbe both unfair and unwise for the deliberate purpose of bringing them toterms, and getting them to exchange their permanent possession of thesefranchises for a limited tenancy. Permanent commissions should be placedover them with the right and duty of interfering officiously in theirbusiness. Taxation should be made to bear heavily upon them. Competitiveservices should be established wherever this could be done without anyexcessive loss. They should be annoyed and worried in every legal way;and all those burdens should be imposed upon them with the explicitunderstanding that they were measures of war. In adopting such a policya community would be fighting for an essential condition of futureeconomic integrity and well-being, and it need not be any morescrupulous about the means employed (always "under the law") than wouldan animal in his endeavor to kill some blood-sucking parasite. Thecorporation should plainly be told that the fight would be abandonedwherever it was ready to surrender its unlimited franchises for alimited but exclusive monopoly, which in these cases should in allfairness run for a longer term than would be ordinarily permissible. 

I have lingered over the case of corporations enjoying municipalfranchises, because they offer the only existing illustration of aspecific economic situation--a situation in which a monopolized serviceis based upon exclusive and permanent economic advantages. Precisely thesame situation does not exist in any other part of the economic area;but the idea is that under a policy of properly regulated recognitionsuch a situation may come to exist in respect to those corporationswhich should be subject to the jurisdiction of the central government;and just in so far as it does come to exist, the policy of the centralgovernment should resemble the one suggested for the municipalgovernments and already occasionally adopted by them. That anycorporations properly subject to the jurisdiction of the Federalgovernment will attain to the condition of being a "natural" monopolymay be disputed; but according to the present outlook, if such is notthe case, the only reason will be that the government by means ofofficial and officious interference "regulates" them into inefficiency, and consequent inability to hold their own against smaller and less"regulated" competitors. If these corporations are left in the enjoymentof the natural advantages which wisely or unwisely they have beenallowed to appropriate, some of them at any rate will gradually attainto the economic standing of "natural" monopolies. 

The railroad system of the country is gradually approximating to such acondition. The process of combination which has been characteristic ofAmerican railroad development from the start has been checked recentlyboth by government action and by anti-railroad agitation; but if therailroads were exempted from the provisions of the Anti-Trust Law andwere permitted, subject to official approval, either to make agreementsor to merge, according as they were competing or non-competing lines, there can be no doubt that the whole country would be gradually dividedup among certain large and essentially non-competitive systems. Ameasure of competition would always remain, even if one corporationcontrolled the entire railway system, because the varying andconflicting demands of different localities and businesses for changesin rates would act as a competitive force; and in the probable systemof a division of territory, this competitive force would have still moreinfluence. But at the same time by far the larger part of the freightand passenger traffic of the country would under such a system be sharedby arrangement among the several corporations. The ultimate share ofeach of the big corporations would not be determined until the period ofbuilding new through routes had passed. But this period is not likely toendure for more than another generation. Thereafter additional railroadconstruction will be almost exclusively a matter of branch extensionsand connections, or of duplicating tracks already in existence; and whensuch a situation is reached, the gross traffic will be just as muchdivided among the coöperative companies as if it were distributed amongdifferent lines by a central management. Certain lines would be managedmore efficiently than others and might make more money, just as certaindepartments of a big business might, because of peculiarly ablemanagement, earn an unusually large contribution to the total profits;but such variations could not be of any essential importance. From thepoint of view of the community as a whole the railroad system of thecountry would be a monopoly. 

The monopoly, like that of a municipal street railroad, would dependupon the possession of exclusive advantages. It would depend upon theownership of terminals in large and small cities which could no longerbe duplicated save at an excessive expense. It would depend upon thepossession of a right of way in relation to which the businessarrangements of a particular territory had been adjusted. It would havebecome essentially a special franchise, even if it had not been grantedas a special franchise by any competent legal authority; and, like everysimilar franchise, it would increase automatically in value with thegrowth of the community in population and business. This automaticincrease in value, like that of a municipal franchise, should be securedto the community which creates it; and it can be secured only by somesuch means as those suggested in the case of municipal franchises. TheFederal government must, that is, take possession of that share ofrailroad property represented by the terminals, the permanent right ofway, the tracks, and the stations. It is property of this kind whichenables the railroads to become a monopoly, and which, if left inprivate hands, would absolutely prevent the gradual construction of anational economic system. 

In the existing condition of economic development and of public opinion, the man who believes in the ultimate necessity of government ownershipof railroad road-beds and terminals must be content to wait and towatch. The most that he can do for the present is to use any opening, which the course of railroad development affords, for the assertion ofhis ideas; and if he is right, he will gradually be able to work out, inrelation to the economic situation of the railroads, some practicalmethod of realizing the ultimate purpose. Even if public opinioneventually decided that the appropriation of the railroads was necessaryin the national economic interest, the end could in all probability bevery slowly realized. In return, for instance, for the benefit ofgovernment credit, granted under properly regulated conditions, therailroads might submit to the operation of some gradual system ofappropriation, which would operate only in the course of severalgenerations, and the money for which would be obtained by the taxationof railroad earnings. It might, however, be possible to arrange a schemeof immediate purchase and the conversion of all railway securities, except those representing equipment and working capital, into onespecial class of government security. In that case the whole railroadsystem of the country could be organized into a certain limited numberof special systems, which could be leased for a definite term of yearsto private corporations. These independent systems would in their mutualrelations stimulate that economic rivalry among localities which is thewholesome aspect of railroad competition. Each of these companiesshould, of course, be free to fix such rates as were considerednecessary for the proper development and distribution of traffic withinits own district. 

Any such specific suggestions cannot at the present time be other thanfanciful; and they are offered, not because of their immediate orproximate practical value, but because of the indication they afford ofthe purposes which must be kept in mind in drawing up a radical plan ofrailroad reorganization in the ultimate national interest. All suchplans of reorganization should carefully respect existing railroadproperty values, unless the management of those railroads obstinatelyand uncompromisingly opposed all concessions necessary to therealization of the national interest. In that event the nation would beas much justified in fighting for its essential interests as would underanalogous circumstances a municipality. Furthermore, any suchreorganization should aim at keeping the benefits of the then existingprivate organization--whatever they might be. It should remain true tothe principle that, so far as economic authority and power is delegatedin the form of terminable leases to private corporations, such powershould be complete within certain defined limits. If agents of thenational economic interest cannot be trusted to fulfill theirresponsibilities without some system of detailed censure and supervisionthey should be entirely dispensed with. It may be added that if theproposed or any kindred method of reorganization becomes politically andeconomically possible, the circumstances which account for itspossibility will in all probability carry with them some practicablemethod of realizing the proposed object. 

Wherever the conditions, obtaining in the case of railroad and publicservice corporations, are duplicated in that of an industrialcorporation, a genuinely national economic system would demand theadoption of similar measures. How far or how often these measures wouldbe necessarily applied to industrial corporations could be learned onlyafter a long period of experimentation, and during this period thepolicy of recognition, tempered by regulation under definite conditionsand graduated taxation of net profits would have to be applied. But whensuch a policy had been applied for a period sufficiently prolonged totest their value as national economic agents, further action mightbecome desirable in their case as in that of the railroads. Theindustrial, unlike the service corporations, cannot, however, beconsidered as belonging to a class which must be all treated in the sameway. Conditions would vary radically in different industries; and thecase of each industry should be considered in relation to its specialconditions. Wherever the tendency in any particular industry continuedto run in the direction of combination, and wherever the increasinglycentralized control of that industry was associated with a practicalmonopoly of some mineral, land, or water rights, the government might beconfronted by another instance of a natural monopoly, which it would beimpolitic and dangerous to leave in private hands. In all such casessome system of public ownership and private operation should, ifpossible, be introduced. On the other hand, in case the tendency tocombination was strengthened in an industry, such, for instance, as thatof the manufacture of tobacco, which does not depend upon the actualownership of any American natural resources, the manner of dealing withit would be a matter of expediency, which would vary in different cases. In the case of a luxury like tobacco, either a government monopoly mightbe created, as has been already done so frequently abroad, or the statemight be satisfied with a sufficient share of the resulting profits. Nogeneral rule can be laid down for such cases; and they will not come upfor serious consideration until the more fundamental question of therailroads has been agitated to the point of compelling some kind of adefinite settlement. 

This sketch of a constructive national policy in relation tocorporations need not be carried any further. Its purpose has been toconvert to the service of a national democratic economic system theindustrial organization which has gradually been built up in thiscountry; and to make this conversion, if possible, without impairing theefficiency of the system, and without injuring individuals in anyunnecessary way. The attempt will be criticised, of course, asabsolutely destructive of American economic efficiency and as wickedlyunjust to individuals; and there will be, from the point of view of thecritics, some truth in the criticism. No such reorganization of ourindustrial methods could be effected without a prolonged period ofagitation, which would undoubtedly injure the prosperity and unsettlethe standing of the victims of the agitation; and no matter what theresults of the agitation, there must be individual loss and suffering. But there is a distinction to be made between industrial efficiency andbusiness prosperity. Americans have hitherto identified prosperity witha furious economic activity, and an ever-increasing economicproduct--regardless of genuine economy of production and any properdistribution of the fruits. Unquestionably, the proposed reorganizationof American industrial methods would for a while make many individualAmericans less prosperous. But it does not follow that the efficiency ofthe national economic organization need be compromised, because itsfruits are differently distributed and are temporarily less abundant. It is impossible to judge at present how far that efficiency dependsupon the chance, which Americans have enjoyed, of appropriating far moremoney than they have earned, and far more than they can spend excepteither by squandering it or giving it away. But in any event thedangerous lack of national economic balance involved by the existingdistribution of wealth must be redressed. This object is so essentialthat its attainment is worth the inevitable attendant risks. In seekingto bring it about, no clear-sighted democratic economist would expect to"have it both ways. " Even a very gradual displacement of the existingmethod of distributing economic fruits will bring with it regrettablewounds and losses. But provided they are incurred for the benefit of theAmerican people as an economic whole, they are worth the penalty. Thenational economic interest demands, on the one hand, the combination ofabundant individual opportunity with efficient organization, and on theother, a wholesome distribution, of the fruits; and these jointessentials will be more certainly attained under some such system as theone suggested than they are under the present system. 

The genuine economic interest of the individual, like the genuinepolitical interest, demands a distribution of economic power andresponsibility, which will enable men of exceptional ability anexceptional opportunity of exercising it. Industrial leaders, likepolitical leaders, should be content with the opportunity of doingefficient work, and with a scale of reward which permits them to live acomplete human life. At present the opportunity of doing efficientindustrial work is in the case of the millionaires (not in that of theirequally or more efficient employees) accompanied by an excessive measureof reward, which is, in the moral interest of the individual, eithermeaningless or corrupting. The point at which these rewards cease to beearned is a difficult one to define; but there certainly can be noinjustice in appropriating for the community those increases in valuewhich are due merely to a general increase in population and business;and this increase in value should be taken over by the community, nomatter whether it is divided among one hundred or one hundred thousandstockholders in a corporation. The essential purpose is to secure forthe whole community those elements in value which are made by thecommunity. The semi-monopolistic organization of certain Americanindustries is little by little enabling the government to separate fromthe total economic product a part at least of that fraction which iscreated by social rather than individual activity; and a democracy whichfailed to take advantage of the opportunity would be blind to itsfundamental interest. To be sure, the opportunity cannot be turned tothe utmost public benefit until industrial leaders, like politicalleaders, are willing to do efficient work partly from disinterestedmotives; but that statement is merely a translation into economic termsof the fundamental truth that democracy, as a political and socialideal, is founded essentially upon disinterested human action. Ademocracy can disregard or defy that truth at its peril. 

IV

TAXATION AND INEQUALITIES IN WEALTH

Before dismissing this subject of a national industrial organization anda better distribution of the fruits thereof brief references must bemade to certain other aspects of the matter. The measures which thecentral and local governments could take for the purpose of adapting oureconomic and social institutions to the national economic and socialinterest would not be exhausted by the adoption of the proposed policyof reconstruction; and several of these supplementary means, which havebeen proposed to accomplish the same object, deserve consideration. Someof these proposals look towards a further use of the power of taxation, possessed by both the state and the Federal governments; but it must notbe supposed that in their entirety they constitute a complete system oftaxation. They are merely examples, like the protective tariff, of theuse of the power of taxation to combine a desirable national object withthe raising of money for the expenses of government. 

It may be assumed that the adoption of the policy outlined in the lastsection would gradually do away with certain undesirable inequalities inthe distribution of wealth: but this process, it is scarcely necessaryto add, would do nothing to mitigate existing inequalities. Existinginequalities ought to be mitigated; and they can be mitigated withoutdoing the slightest injustice to their owners. The means to suchmitigation are, of course, to be found in a graduated inheritance tax--atax which has already been accepted in principle by several Americanstates and by the English government, which certainly cannot beconsidered indifferent to the rights of individual property owners. 

At the present stage of the argument, no very elaborate justificationcan be necessary, either for the object proposed by a graduatedinheritance tax, or for the use of precisely these means to attain it. The preservation intact of a fortune over a certain amount is notdesirable either in the public or individual interest. No doubt thereare certain people who have the gift of spending money well, and whosepersonal value as well as the general social interest is heightened bythe opportunity of being liberal. But to whatever extent suchconsiderations afford a moral justification for private property, theyhave no relevancy to the case of existing American fortunes. Themulti-millionaire cannot possibly spend his income save by a recourse towild and demoralizing extravagance, and in some instances not evenextravagance is sufficient for the purpose. Fortunes of a certain sizeeither remorselessly accumulate or else are given away. There is ageneral disposition to justify the possession of many millions by thefrequent instances among their owners of intelligent public benefaction, but such an argument is a confession that a justification is neededwithout constituting in itself a sufficient excuse. If wealth, particularly when accumulated in large amounts, has a public function, and if its possession imposes a public duty, a society is foolish toleave such a duty to the accidental good intentions of individuals. Itshould be assumed and should be efficiently performed by the state; andthe necessity of that assumption is all the plainer when it isremembered that the greatest public gifts usually come from the firstgeneration of millionaires. Men who inherit great wealth and are broughtup in extravagant habits nearly always spend their money on themselves. That is one reason why the rich Englishman is so much less generous inhis public gifts than the rich American. In the long run men inevitablybecome the victims of their wealth. They adapt their lives and habits totheir money, not their money to their lives. It pre-occupies theirthoughts, creates artificial needs, and draws a curtain between them andthe world. If the American people believe that large wealth reallyrequires to be justified by proportionately large public benefactions, they should assuredly adopt measures which will guarantee public servicefor a larger proportion of such wealth. 

Whether or not the state shall permit the inheritance of large fortunesis a question which stands on a totally different footing from thequestion of their permissible accumulation. Many millions may, at leastin part, be earned by the men who accumulate them; but they cannot inthe least be earned by the people who inherit them. They could not beinherited at all save by the intervention of the state; and the statehas every right to impose conditions in its own interest upon the wholebusiness of inheritance. The public interests involved go very muchbeyond the matter of mitigating flagrant inequalities of wealth. Theyconcern at bottom the effect of the present system of inheritance uponthe inheritors and upon society; and in so far as the system brings withit the creation of a class of economic parasites, it can scarcely bedefended. But such is precisely its general tendency. The improbabilitythat the children will inherit with the wealth of the parent hispossibly able and responsible use of it is usually apparent to thefather himself; and not infrequently he ties up his millions in trust, so that they are sure to have the worst possible moral effect upon hisheirs. Children so circumstanced are deprived of any economicresponsibility save that of spending an excessive income; and, ofcourse, they are bound to become more or less respectable parasites. Themanifest dissociation thereby implied between the enjoyment of wealthand the personal responsibility attending its ownership, has resulted inthe proposal that fathers should be forbidden by the state to arrange socarefully for the demoralization of their children and grandchildren. Even if we are not prepared to acquiesce in so radical an impairment ofthe rights of testators, there can be no doubt that, under a properlyframed system of inheritance taxation, all property placed in trust forthe benefit of male heirs above a certain amount should be subject to anexceptionally severe deduction. Whatever justification such methods ofguaranteeing personal financial irresponsibility may have inaristocratic countries, in which an upper class may need a peculiareconomic freedom, they are hostile both to the individual and publicinterest of a democratic community. 

Public opinion is not, however, even remotely prepared for any radicaltreatment of the whole matter of inheritance; and it will not beprepared, until it has learned from experience that the existing freedomenjoyed by rich testators means the sacrifice of the quick to thedead--the mutilation of living individuals in the name of individualfreedom and in order that a dead will may have its way. Until thislesson is learned the most that can be done is to work for some kind ofa graduated inheritance tax, the severity of which should be dictatedchiefly by conditions of practical efficiency. Considerations ofpractical efficiency make it necessary that the tax should be imposedexclusively by the Federal government. State inheritance taxes, sufficiently large to accomplish the desirable result, will be evaded bychange of residence to another state. A Federal tax could be raised to amuch higher level without prompting the two possible methods ofevasion--one of which would be the legal transfer of the property duringlifetime, and the other a complete change of residence to some foreigncountry. This second method of evasion would not constitute a seriousdanger, because of the equally severe inheritance laws of foreigncountries. The tax at its highest level could be placed without dangerof evasion at as much as twenty per cent. The United Kingdom now raisesalmost $100, 000, 000 of revenue from the source; and a slightly increasedscale of taxation might yield double that amount to the AmericanTreasury, a part of which could be turned into the state Treasuries. 

There has been associated with the graduated inheritance tax the plan ofa graduated income tax; but the graduated income tax would serve theproposed object both less efficiently and less equitably. It taxes theman who earns the money as well as him who inherits it. It taxes earnedincome as well as income derived from investments; and in taxing theincome derived from investments, it cannot make any edifyingdiscrimination as to its source. Finally, it would interfere with a muchmore serviceable plan of taxing the net profits of corporations subjectto the jurisdiction of the Federal government--a plan which is anindispensable part of any constructive treatment of the corporationproblem in the near future. 

The suggestion that the inheritance tax should constitute a pillar ofcentral rather than local taxation implicitly raises a whole series ofdifficult Constitutional and fiscal questions concerning the relationbetween central and local taxation. The discussion of these questionswould carry me very much further than my present limits permit; andthere is room in this connection for only one additional remark. Thereal estate tax and saloon licenses should, I believe, constitute thefoundation of the state revenues; but inasmuch as certain states havederived a considerable part of their income from corporation andinheritance taxes, allowance would have to be made for this fact inrevising the methods of Federal taxation. It is essential to anyeffective control over corporations and over the "money power" thatcorporation and inheritance taxes should be uniform throughout thecountry, and should be laid by the central government; but no equallygood reason can be urged on behalf of the exclusive appropriation by theFederal Treasury of the proceeds of these taxes. If the states needrevenues derived from these sources, a certain proportion of the netreceipts could be distributed among the states. The proportion should bethe same in the case of all the states; but it should be estimated inthe case of any particular state upon the net yield which the FederalTreasury had derived from its residents. 

V

THE ORGANIZATION OF LABOR

Only one essential phase of a constructive national policy remains to beconsidered--and that is the organization of labor. The necessity for theformulation of some constructive policy in respect to labor is as patentas is that for the formulation of a similar policy in respect tocorporate wealth. Any progress in the solution of the problem of thebetter distribution of wealth will, of course, have a profound indirecteffect on the amelioration of the condition of labor; but such progresswill be at best extremely slow, and in the meantime the labor problempresses for some immediate and direct action. As we have seen, Americanlabor has not been content with the traditional politico-economicoptimism. Like all aggressive men alive to their own interest, thelaborer soon decided that what he really needed was not equal rights, but special opportunities. He also soon learned that in order to getthese special opportunities he must conquer them by main force--which heproceeded to do with, on the whole, about as much respect for the law aswas exhibited by the big capitalists. In spite of many setbacks theunionizing of industrial labor has been attended with almost as muchsuccess as the consolidating of industrial power and wealth; and nowthat the labor unions have earned the allegiance of their members bycertain considerable and indispensable services, they find themselvesplaced, in the eyes of the law, in precisely the same situation ascombinations of corporate wealth. Both of these attempts at industrialorganization are condemned by the Sherman Anti-Trust Law and by certainsimilar state legislation as conspiracies against the freedom of tradeand industry. 

The labor unions, consequently, like the big corporations, need legalrecognition; and this legal recognition means in their case, also, substantial discrimination by the state in their favor. Of course, theunionist leaders appeal to public opinion with the usual American cant. According to their manifestoes they demand nothing but "fair play"; butthe demand for fair play is as usual merely the hypocritical exterior ofa demand for substantial favoritism. Just as there can be no effectivecompetition between the huge corporation controlling machinery ofproduction which cannot be duplicated and the small manufacturer in thesame line, so there can be no effective competition between theindividual laborer and the really efficient labor union. To recognizethe labor union, and to incorporate it into the American legal system, is equivalent to the desertion by the state of the non-union laborer. Itmeans that in the American political and economic system theorganization of labor into unions should be preferred to itsdisorganized separation into competing individuals. Complete freedom ofcompetition among laborers, which is often supposed to be for theinterest of the individual laborer, can only be preserved as aneffective public policy by active discrimination against the unions. 

An admission that the recognition of labor unions amounts to asubstantial discrimination in their favor would do much to clear up thewhole labor question. So far as we declare that the labor unions oughtto be recognized, we declare that they ought to be favored; and so faras we declare that the labor union ought to be favored, we have made agreat advance towards the organization of labor in the nationalinterest. The labor unions deserve to be favored, because they are themost effective machinery which has as yet been forged for the economicand social amelioration of the laboring class. They have helped to raisethe standard of living, to mitigate the rigors of competition amongindividual laborers, and in this way to secure for labor a larger shareof the total industrial product. A democratic government has little orless reason to interfere on behalf of the non-union laborer than it hasto interfere in favor of the small producer. As a type the non-unionlaborer is a species of industrial derelict. He is the laborer who hasgone astray and who either from apathy, unintelligence, incompetence, orsome immediately pressing need prefers his own individual interest tothe joint interests of himself and his fellow-laborers. From the pointof view of a constructive national policy he does not deserve anyspecial protection. In fact, I am willing to go farther and assert thatthe non-union industrial laborer should, in the interest of a genuinelydemocratic organization of labor, be rejected; and he should be rejectedas emphatically, if not as ruthlessly, as the gardener rejects the weedsin his garden for the benefit of fruit-and flower-bearing plants. 

The statement just made unquestionably has the appearance of proposing aharsh and unjust policy in respect to non-union laborers; but before thepolicy is stigmatized as really harsh or unjust, the reader should waituntil he has pursued the argument to its end. Our attitude towards thenon-union laborer must be determined by our opinion of the results ofhis economic action. In the majority of discussions of the laborquestion the non-union laborer is figured as the independent working manwho is asserting his right to labor when and how he prefers against thetyranny of the labor union. One of the most intelligent political andsocial thinkers in our country has gone so far as to describe them asindustrial heroes, who are fighting the battle of individualindependence against the army of class oppression. Neither is thisestimate of the non-union laborer wholly without foundation. Theorganization and policy of the contemporary labor union being what theyare, cases will occasionally and even frequently occur in which thenon-union laborer will represent the protest of an individual againstinjurious restrictions imposed by the union upon his opportunities andhis work. But such cases are rare compared to the much larger number ofinstances in which the non-union laborer is to be considered asessentially the individual industrial derelict. In the competition amonglaboring men for work there will always be a certain considerableproportion who, in order to get some kind of work for a while, willaccept almost any conditions of labor or scale of reward offered tothem. Men of this kind, either because of irresponsibility, unintelligence, or a total lack of social standards and training, arecontinually converting the competition of the labor market into a forcewhich degrades the standard of living and prevents masses of theirfellow-workmen from obtaining any real industrial independence. They itis who bring about the result that the most disagreeable and dangerousclasses of labor remain the poorest paid; and as long as they arepermitted to have their full effects upon the labor situation, progressto a higher standard of living is miserably slow and always suffers asevere setback during a period of hard times. From any comprehensivepoint of view union and not non-union labor represents the independenceof the laborer, because under existing conditions such independence mustbe bought by association. Worthy individuals will sometimes besacrificed by this process of association; but every process ofindustrial organization or change, even one in a constructive direction, necessarily involves individual cases of injustice. 

Hence it is that the policy of so-called impartiality is bothimpracticable and inexpedient. The politician who solemnly declares thathe believes in the right of the laboring man to organize, and that laborunions are deserving of approval, but that he also believes in the rightof the individual laborer to eschew unionism whenever it suits hisindividual purpose or lack of purpose, --such familiar declarationsconstitute merely one more illustration of our traditional habit of"having it both ways. " It is always possible to have it both ways, incase the two ways do not come into conflict; but where they do conflictin fact and in theory, the sensible man must make his choice. The laborquestion will never be advanced towards solution by proclaiming it to bea matter of antagonistic individual rights. It involves a fundamentalpublic interest--the interest which a democracy must necessarily take inthe economic welfare of its own citizens; and this interest demands thata decisive preference be shown for labor organization. The labor unionsare perfectly right in believing that all who are not for them areagainst them, and that a state which was really "impartial" would beadopting a hypocritical method of retarding the laborer from improvinghis condition. The unions deserve frank and loyal support; and untilthey obtain it, they will remain, as they are at present, merely a classorganization for the purpose of extorting from the political andeconomic authorities the maximum of their special interests. 

The labor unions should be granted their justifiable demand forrecognition, partly because only by means of recognition can aneffective fight be made against their unjustifiable demands. The largeAmerican employer of labor, and the whole official politico-economicsystem, is placed upon the defensive by a refusal frankly to preferunionism. Union labor is allowed to conquer at the sword's point apreferential treatment which should never have been refused; and theconsequence is that its victory, so far as it is victorious, is that ofan industrial faction. The large employer and the state are disqualifiedfrom insisting on their essential and justifiable interests in respectto the organization of labor, because they have rejected a demandessential to the interest of the laborer. They have remainedconsistently on the defensive; and a merely defensive policy in warfareis a losing policy. Every battle the unions win is a clear gain. Everyfight which they lose means merely a temporary suspension of theiraggressive tactics. They lose nothing by it but a part of theirequipment and prestige, which can be restored by a short period ofinaction and accumulation. A few generations more of this sort ofwarfare will leave the unions in substantial possession of the wholearea of conflict; and their victory may well turn their heads socompletely that its effects will be intolerable and disastrous. 

The alternative policy would consist in a combination of conciliationand aggressive warfare. The spokesman of a constructive national policyin respect to the organization of labor would address the unions in somesuch words as these: "Yes! You are perfectly right in demandingrecognition, and in demanding that none but union labor be employed inindustrial work. That demand will be granted, but only on definiteterms. You should not expect an employer to recognize a union whichestablishes conditions and rules of labor inimical to a desirablemeasure of individual economic distinction and independence. Yourrecognition, that is, must depend upon conformity to another set ofconditions, imposed in the interest of efficiency and individualeconomic independence. In this respect you will be treated precisely aslarge corporations are treated. The state will recognize the kind ofunion which in contributing to the interest of its members contributesalso to the general economic interest. On the other hand, it will notonly refuse to recognize a union whose rules and methods are inimical tothe public economic interest, but it will aggressively and relentlesslyfight such unions. Employment will be denied to laborers who belong tounions of that character. In trades where such unions are dominant, counter-unions will be organized, and the members of thesecounter-unions alone will have any chance of obtaining work. In this waythe organization of labor like the organization of capital may graduallybe fitted into a nationalized economic system. "

The conditions to which a "good" labor union ought to conform are moreeasily definable than the conditions to which a "good" trust ought toconform. In the first place the union should have the right to demand aminimum wage and a minimum working day. This minimum would vary, ofcourse, in different trades, in different branches of the same trade, and in different parts of the country; and it might vary, also, atdifferent industrial seasons. It would be reached by collectivebargaining between the organizations of the employer and those of theemployee. The unions would be expected to make the best terms that theycould; and under the circumstances they ought to be able to make termsas good as trade conditions would allow. These agreements would beabsolute within the limits contained in the bond. The employer shouldnot have to keep on his pay-roll any man who in his opinion was notworth the money; but if any man was employed, he could not be obliged towork for less than for a certain sum. On the other hand, in return forsuch a privileged position the unions would have to abandon a number ofrules upon which they now insist. Collective bargaining should establishthe minimum amount of work and pay; but the maximum of work and payshould be left to individual arrangement. An employer should be able togive a peculiarly able or energetic laborer as much more than theminimum wage as in his opinion the man was worth; and men might bepermitted to work over-time, provided they were paid for the over-timeone and one half or two times as much as they were paid for an ordinaryworking hour. The agreement between the employers and the union shouldalso provide for the terms upon which men would be admitted into theunion. The employer, if he employed only union men, should have a rightto demand that the supply of labor should not be artificiallyrestricted, and that he could depend upon procuring as much labor as thegrowth of his business might require. Finally in all skilled tradesthere should obviously be some connection between the unions and thetrade schools; and it might be in this respect that the union wouldenter into closest relations with the state. The state would have amanifest interest in making the instruction in these schools of the verybest, and in furnishing it free to as many apprentices as the tradeagreement permitted. 

In all probability the general policy roughly sketched above will pleaseone side to the labor controversy as little as it does another. Unionleaders might compare the recognition received by the unions under theproposed conditions to the recognition which the bear accords to the manwhom he hugs to death. They would probably prefer for the time beingtheir existing situation--that of being on the high road to the conquestof almost unconditional submission. On the other hand, the largeemployers believe with such fine heroism of conviction in the principleof competition among their employees that they dislike to surrender theadvantages of industrial freedom to the oppressive exigencies ofcollective bargaining. In assuming such an attitude both sides would beright from their own class points of view. The plan is not intended tofurther the selfish interest of either the employer or the union. Whatever merits it has consist in its possible ability to promote thenational economic interest in a progressively improving general standardof living, in a higher standard of individual work, and in a generalefficiency of labor. The existing system has succeeded hitherto ineffecting a progressive improvement in the standard of living, but theless said the better about its effects upon labor-quality andlabor-efficiency. In the long run it looks as if the improvement in thestandard of living would be brought to an end by the accompanyinginefficiency of labor. At any rate the employers are now fighting for anillusory benefit; and because they are fighting for an illusory benefitthey are enabling the unions to associate all sorts of dangerousconditions with their probable victory. The proposed plan does not doaway with the necessity of a fight. The relations between labor andcapital are such that only by fighting can they reach a betterunderstanding. But it asks the employers to consider carefully what theyare fighting for, and whether they will not lose far more from a defeatthan they will gain from a successful defense. And it asks the unions toconsider whether a victory, gained at the expense of labor-efficiency, will not deprive them of its fruits. Let the unions fight for somethingthey can keep; and let the employers fight for something they will notbe sure to lose. 

The writer is fully aware of the many difficulties attending thepractical application of any such policy. Indeed it could not be workedat all, unless the spirit and methods of collective bargaining betweenthe employers and the labor organizations were very much improved. Theconsequences of a strike would be extremely serious for both of thedisputants and for the consumers. If disagreements terminating instrikes and lock-outs remained as numerous as they are at present, therewould result both for the producer and consumer a condition of perilousand perhaps intolerable uncertitude. But this objection, althoughserious, is not unanswerable. The surest way in which a condition ofpossible warfare, founded on a genuine conflict of interest, can bepermanently alleviated is to make its consequences increasinglydangerous. When the risks become very dangerous, reasonable men do notfight except on grave provocation or for some essential purpose. Suchwould be the result in any industry, both the employers and laborers ofwhich were completely organized. Collective bargaining would, under suchcircumstances, assume a serious character; and no open fight would ensueexcept under exceptional conditions and in the event of grave andessential differences of opinion. Moreover, the state could make themstill less likely to happen by a policy of discreet supervision. Throughthe passage of a law similar to the one recently enacted in the Dominionof Canada, it could assure the employers and the public that no strikewould take place until every effort had been made to reach a fairunderstanding or a compromise; and in case a strike did result, publicopinion could form a just estimate of the merits of the controversy. Inan atmosphere of discussion and publicity really prudent employers andlabor organizations would fight very rarely, if at all; and this resultwould be the more certain, provided a consensus of public opinionexisted as the extent to which the clashing interests of the twocombatants could be fitted into the public interest. It should beclearly understood that the public interest demanded, on the one hand, astandard of living for the laborer as high as the industrial conditionswould permit, and on the other a standard of labor-efficiency equivalentto the cost of labor and an opportunity for the exceptional individuallaborer to improve on that standard in his own interest. The wholepurpose of such an organization would be the attempt to developefficient labor and prosperous laboring men, whereas the tendency of theexisting organization is to associate the prosperity of the laboring manwith the inefficiency of labor. The employers are usually fighting notfor the purpose of developing good labor, but for the purpose of takingadvantage of poor, weak, and dependent laborers. 

How far the central, state, and municipal governments could go in aidingsuch a method of organization, is a question that can only beindefinitely answered. The legislatures of many American states andmunicipalities have already shown a disposition to aid the labor unionsin certain indirect ways. They seek by the passage of eight-hour andprevailing rate-of-wages laws to give an official sanction to the claimsof the unions, and they do so without making any attempt to promote theparallel public interest in an increasing efficiency of labor. But theseeight-hour and other similar laws are frequently being declaredunconstitutional by the state courts, and for the supposed benefit ofindividual liberty. Without venturing on the disputed ground as towhether such decisions are legitimate or illegitimate interpretations ofconstitutional provisions, it need only be said in this, as in otherinstances, that the courts are as much influenced in such decisions by apolitical theory as they are by any fidelity to the fundamental law, andthat if they continue indefinitely in the same course, they are likelyto get into trouble. I shall, however, as usual, merely evadeconstitutional obstacles, the full seriousness of which none but anexpert lawyer is competent to appraise. Both the state and the municipalgovernments ought, just in so far as they have the power, to givepreference to union labor, but wherever possible they should also nothesitate to discriminate between "good" and "bad" unions. Such adiscrimination would be beyond the courage of existing governments, buta mild hope may be entertained that it would not be beyond the courageof the regenerated governments. The adoption of some such attitude bythe municipal and state authorities might encourage employers to makethe fight along the same lines; and wherever an employer did make thefight along those lines, he should, in his turn, receive all possiblesupport. In the long run the state could hardly impose by law such amethod of labor organization upon the industrial fabric. Unless theemployers themselves came to realize just what they could fight for withsome chance of success, and with the best general results if successful, the state could not force him into a better understanding of therelation between their own and the public interest. But in so far as anytendency existed among employers to recognize the unions, but to insiston efficiency and individual opportunity; and in so far as any tendencyexisted among the unions to recognize the necessary relation between animproving standard of living and the efficiency of labor--then the stateand municipal governments could interfere effectively on behalf of thoseemployers and those unions who stand for a constructive labor policy. And in case the tendency towards an organization of labor in thenational interest became dominant, it might be possible to embody it ina set of definite legal institutions. But any such set of legalinstitutions would be impossible without an alteration in the Federaland many state constitutions; and consequently they could not in anyevent become a matter for precisely pressing consideration. In general, however, the labor, even more than the corporation, problem will involvegrave and dubious questions of constitutional interpretation; and notmuch advance can be made towards its solution until, in one way oranother, the hands of the legislative authority have been untied. 

Before ending this very inadequate discussion of the line of advancetowards a constructive organization of labor, one more aspect thereofmust be briefly considered. Under the proposed plan the fate of thenon-union laborer, of the industrial dependent, would hang chiefly onthe extent to which the thorough-going organization of labor wascarried. In so far as he was the independent industrial individual whichthe opponents of labor unions suppose him to be, he could have noobjection to joining the union, because his individual power ofefficient labor would have full opportunity of securing its reward. Onthe other hand, in so far as he was unable to maintain a standard ofwork commensurate with the prevailing rate of wages in any trade, hewould, of course, be excluded from its ranks. But it should be addedthat in an enormous and complicated industrial body, such as that of theUnited States, a man who could not maintain the standard of work in onetrade should be able to maintain it in another and less exacting trade. The man who could not become an efficient carpenter might do for ahod-carrier; and a man who found hod-carrying too hard on his shouldersmight be able to dig in the ground. There would be a sufficient varietyof work for all kinds of industrial workers; while at the same timethere would be a systematic attempt to prevent the poorer and lesscompetent laborers from competing with those of a higher grade andhindering the latter's economic amelioration. Such a result would besuccessful only in so far as the unions were in full possession of thefield; but if the unions secure full possession even of part of thefield, the tendency will be towards an ever completer monopoly. Thefewer trades into which the non-union laborers were crowded would driftinto an intolerable condition, which would make unionizing almostcompulsory. 

If all, or almost all, the industrial labor of the country came to beorganized in the manner proposed, the only important kind of non-unionlaborer left in the country would be agricultural; and such a resultcould be regarded with equanimity by an economic statesman. The existingsystem works very badly in respect to supplying the farmer withnecessary labor. In every period of prosperity the tendency is foragricultural laborers to rush off to the towns and cities for the sakeof the larger wages and the less monotonous life; and when a period ofdepression follows, their competition lowers the standard of living inall organized trades. If the supply of labor were regulated, and itsefficiency increased as it would be under the proposed system, agricultural laborers would not have the opportunity of findingindustrial work, except of the most inferior class, until theircompetence had been proved; and it would become less fluid and unstablethan it is at present. Moreover, farm labor is, on the whole, much morewholesome for economically dependent and mechanically untrained men thanlabor in towns or cities. They are more likely under such conditions tomaintain a higher moral standard. If they can be kept upon the farmuntil or unless they are prepared for a higher class of work, it will bethe greatest possible boon to American farming. Agriculture suffers inthis country peculiarly from the scarcity, the instability, and the highcost of labor; and unless it becomes more abundant, less fluid, and moreefficient compared to its cost, intensive farming, as practiced inEurope, will scarcely be possible in the United States. Neither shouldit be forgotten that the least intelligent and trained grade of laborwould be more prosperous on the farms than in the cities, because of thelower cost of living in an agricultural region. Their scale of wageswould be determined in general by that of the lowest grade of industriallabor, but their expenses would be materially smaller. 

That the organization of labor herewith suggested would prove to be anyultimate solution of the labor problem, is wholly improbable. It wouldconstitute, like the proposed system, of corporate regulation, at best atransitional method of reaching some very different method oflabor-training, distribution, and compensation; and what that methodmight be, is at present merely a matter of speculation. The proposedreorganization of labor, like the proposed system of institutionalreform, and like the proposed constructive regulation of largeindustrial corporations, simply takes advantage of those tendencies inour current methods which look in a formative direction; and in so faras these several tendencies prevail, they will severally supplement andstrengthen one another. The more independent, responsible, and vigorouspolitical authority will be the readier to seek some formative solutionof the problem of the distribution of wealth and that of theorganization of labor. Just in so far as the combination of capitalcontinues to be economically necessary, it is bound to be accompanied bythe completer unionizing of labor. Just in so far as capital continuesto combine, the state is bound to appropriate the fruits of its monopolyfor public purposes. Just in so far as the corporations become thelessees of special franchises from the state, pressure can be brought tobear in favor of the more systematic and more stimulating organizationof labor; and finally, just in so far as labor was systematicallyorganized, public opinion would demand a vigorous and responsibleconcentration of political and economic power, in order to maintain aproper balance. An organic unity binds the three aspects of the systemtogether; and in so far as a constructive tendency becomes powerful inany one region, it will tend by its own force to introduce constructivemethods of organization into the other divisions of the economic, political, and social body. 

Such are the outlines of a national policy which seeks to do away withexisting political and economic abuses, not by "purification" orpurging, but by substituting for them a more positive mode of action anda more edifying habit of thought. The policy seeks to make headwaytowards the most far-reaching and thorough-going democratic ideals bythe taking advantage of real conditions and using realistic methods. Theresult may wear to advanced social reformers the appearance of a weakcompromise. The extreme socialist democrat will find a discrepancybetween the magnificent end and the paltry means. "Why seek to justify, "he will ask, "a series of proposals for economic and institutionalreform most of which have already been tried in Europe for purelypractical reasons, why seek to justify such a humble scheme ofreconstruction by such a remote and lofty purpose?" It might remind himof a New Yorker who started for the North Pole, but proposed to getthere by the Subway. The justification for the association of such arealistic practical programme with an end which is nothing short ofmoral and social improvement of mankind, is to be found, however, by themanner in which even the foregoing proposals will be regarded by theaverage American democrat. He will regard them as in meaning and effectsubversive of the established political and economic system of thecountry; and he would be right. The American people could never adoptthe accompanying programme, moderate as it is from the point of view ofits ultimate object, without unsettling some of their most settledhabits and transforming many of their most cherished ideas. It wouldmean for the American people the gradual assumption of a newresponsibility, the adoption of a new outlook, the beginning of a newlife. It would, consequently, be radical and revolutionary inimplication, even though it were modest in its expectation of immediateachievement; and the fact that it is revolutionary in implication, butmoderate in its practical proposals, is precisely the justification formy description of it as a constructive national programme. It isnational just because it seeks to realize the purpose of Americannational association without undermining or overthrowing the livingconditions of American national integrity. 

CHAPTER XIII

CONCLUSIONS--THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE NATIONAL PURPOSES

I

INDIVIDUAL VS. COLLECTIVE EDUCATION

Hitherto we have been discussing the ways in which existing Americaneconomic and political methods and institutions should be modified inorder to make towards the realization of the national democratic ideal. In course of this discussion, it has been taken for granted that theAmerican people under competent and responsible leadership coulddeliberately plan a policy of individual and social improvement, andthat with the means at their collective disposal they could make headwaytowards its realization. These means consisted, of course, precisely intheir whole outfit of political, economic, and social institutions; andthe implication has been, consequently, that human nature can be raisedto a higher level by an improvement in institutions and laws. Themajority of my readers will probably have thought many times that suchan assumption, whatever its truth, has been overworked. Admitting thatsome institutions may be better than others, it must also be admittedthat human nature is composed of most rebellious material, and that theextent to which it can be modified by social and political institutionsof any kind is, at best, extremely small. Such critics may, consequently, have reached the conclusion that the proposed system ofreconstruction, even if desirable, would not accomplish anything reallyeffectual or decisive towards the fulfillment of the American nationalPromise. 

It is no doubt true that out of the preceding chapters many sentencescould be selected which apparently imply a credulous faith in thepossibility of improving human nature by law. It is also true that Ihave not ventured more than to touch upon a possible institutionalreformation, which, in so far as it was successful in its purpose, would improve human nature by the most effectual of all means--that is, by improving the methods whereby men and women are bred. But if I haveerred in attaching or appearing to attach too much efficacy to legal andinstitutional reforms, the error or its appearance was scarcelyseparable from an analytic reconstruction of a sufficient democraticideal. Democracy must stand or fall on a platform of possible humanperfectibility. If human nature cannot be improved by institutions, democracy is at best a more than usually safe form of politicalorganization; and the only interesting inquiry about its future wouldbe: How long will it continue to work? But if it is to work better aswell as merely longer, it must have some leavening effect on humannature; and the sincere democrat is obliged to assume the power of theleaven. For him the practical questions are: How can the improvementbest be brought about? and, How much may it amount to?

As a matter of fact, Americans have always had the liveliest andcompletest faith in the process of individual and social improvement andin accepting the assumption, I am merely adhering to the deepest andmost influential of American traditions. The better American hascontinually been seeking to "uplift" himself, his neighbors, and hiscompatriots. But he has usually favored means of improvement verydifferent from those suggested hereinbefore. The real vehicle ofimprovement is education. It is by education that the American istrained for such democracy as he possesses; and it is by bettereducation that he proposes to better his democracy. Men are uplifted byeducation much more surely than they are by any tinkering with laws andinstitutions, because the work of education leavens the actual socialsubstance. It helps to give the individual himself those qualitieswithout which no institutions, however excellent, are of any use, andwith which even bad institutions and laws can be made vehicles of grace. 

The American faith in education has been characterized as asuperstition; and superstitious in some respects it unquestionably is. But its superstitious tendency is not exhibited so much in respect tothe ordinary process of primary, secondary, and higher education. Noteven an American can over-emphasize the importance of proper teachingduring youth; and the only wonder is that the money so freely lavishedon it does not produce better results. Americans are superstitious inrespect to education, rather because of the social "uplift" which theyexpect to achieve by so-called educational means. The credulity of thesocialist in expecting to alter human nature by merely institutional andlegal changes is at least equaled by the credulity of the good Americanin proposing to evangelize the individual by the reading of books and bythe expenditure of money and words. Back of it all is the underlyingassumption that the American nation by taking thought can add a cubit toits stature, --an absolute confidence in the power of the idea to createits own object and in the efficacy of good intentions. 

Do we lack culture? We will "make it hum" by founding a new universityin Chicago. Is American art neglected and impoverished? We will enrichit by organizing art departments in our colleges, and popularize it bylectures with lantern slides and associations for the study of itshistory. Is New York City ugly? Perhaps, but if we could only get theauthorities to appropriate a few hundred millions for itsbeautification, we could make it look like a combination of Athens, Florence, and Paris. Is it desirable for the American citizen to besomething of a hero? I will encourage heroes by establishing a fundwhereby they shall be rewarded in cash. War is hell, is it? I will workfor the abolition of hell by calling a convention and passing aresolution denouncing its iniquities. I will build at the Hague a Palaceof Peace which shall be a standing rebuke to the War Lords of Europe. Here, in America, some of us have more money than we need and more goodwill. We will spend the money in order to establish the reign of thegood, the beautiful, and the true. 

This faith in a combination of good intentions, organization, words, andmoney is not confined to women's clubs or to societies of amiableenthusiasts. In the state of mind which it expresses can be detected thepowerful influence which American women exert over American men; but itsguiding faith and illusion are shared by the most hard-headed andpractical of Americans. The very men who have made their personalsuccesses by a rigorous application of the rule that business isbusiness--the very men who in their own careers have exhibited a shrewdand vivid sense of the realities of politics and trade; it is these menwho have most faith in the practical, moral, and social power of theSubsidized Word. The most real thing which they carry over from theregion of business into the region of moral and intellectual ideals isapparently their bank accounts. The fruits of their hard work and theirbusiness ability are to be applied to the purpose of "uplifting" theirfellow-countrymen. A certain number of figures written on a check andsigned by a familiar name, what may it not accomplish? Some years ago atthe opening exercises of the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburg, Mr. AndrewCarnegie burst into an impassioned and mystical vision of themiraculously constitutive power of first mortgage steel bonds. From hispoint of view and from that of the average American there is scarcelyanything which the combination of abundant resources and good intentionsmay not accomplish. 

The tradition of seeking to cross the gulf between American practice andthe American ideal by means of education or the Subsidized Word is notbe dismissed with a sneer. The gulf cannot be crossed without theassistance of some sort of educational discipline; and that disciplinedepends partly on a new exercise of the "money power" now safelyreposing in the strong boxes of professional millionaires. There need beno fundamental objection taken to the national faith in the power ofgood intentions and re-distributed wealth. That faith is the immediateand necessary issue of the logic of our national moral situation. Itshould be, as it is, innocent and absolute; and if it does not remaininnocent and absolute, the Promise of American Life can scarcely befulfilled. 

A faith may, however, be innocent and absolute without beinginexperienced and credulous. The American faith in education is by wayof being credulous and superstitious, not because it seeks individualand social amelioration by what may be called an educational process, but because the proposed means of education are too conscious, toodirect, and too superficial. Let it be admitted that in any one decadethe amount which can be accomplished towards individual and socialamelioration by means of economic and political reorganization iscomparatively small; but it is certainly as large as that which can beaccomplished by subsidizing individual good intentions. Heroism is notto be encouraged by cash prizes any more than is genius; and a man'sfriends should not be obliged to prove that he is a hero in order thathe may reap every appropriate reward. A hero officially conscious of hisheroism is a mutilated hero. In the same way art cannot become a powerin a community unless many of its members are possessed of a native andinnocent love of beautiful things; and the extent to which such apossession can be acquired by any one or two generations oftraditionally inartistic people is extremely small. Its acquisitiondepends not so much upon direct conscious effort, as upon the growingability to discriminate between what is good and what is bad in theirown native art. It is a matter of the training and appreciation ofAmerican artists, rather than the cultivation of art. Illustrations tothe same effect might be multiplied. The popular interest in the HigherEducation has not served to make Americans attach much importance to theadvice of the highly educated man. He is less of a practical power inthe United States than he is in any European country; and this fact isin itself a sufficient commentary on the reality of the American faithin education. The fact is, of course, that the American tendency todisbelieve in the fulfillment of their national Promise by means ofpolitically, economically, and socially reconstructive work has forcedthem into the alternative of attaching excessive importance tosubsidized good intentions. They want to be "uplifted, " and they want to"uplift" other people; but they will not use their social and politicalinstitutions for the purpose, because those institutions are assumed tobe essentially satisfactory. The "uplifting" must be a matter ofindividual, or of unofficial associated effort; and the only availablemeans are words and subsidies. 

There is, however, a sense in which it is really true that the Americannational Promise can be fulfilled only by education; and this aspect ofour desirable national education can, perhaps, best be understood byseeking its analogue in the training of the individual. An individual'seducation consists primarily in the discipline which he undergoes to fithim both for fruitful association with his fellows and for his ownspecial work. Important as both the liberal and the technical aspect ofthis preliminary training is, it constitutes merely the beginning of aman's education. Its object is or should be to prepare him both in hiswill and in his intelligence to make a thoroughly illuminating use ofhis experience in life. His experience, --as a man of business, ahusband, a father, a citizen, a friend, --has been made real to him, notmerely by the zest with which he has sought it and the sincerity withwhich he has accepted it, but by the disinterested intelligence which hehas brought to its understanding. An educational discipline which hascontributed in that way to the reality of a man's experience has done asmuch for him as education can do; and an educational discipline whichhas failed to make any such contribution has failed of its essentialpurpose. The experience of other people acquired at second hand haslittle value, --except, perhaps, as a means of livelihood, --unless itreally illuminates a man's personal experience. 

Usually a man's ability to profit by his own personal experience dependsupon the sincerity and the intelligence which he brings to his ownparticular occupation. The rule is not universal, because some men are, of course, born with much higher intellectual gifts than others; and tosuch men may be given an insight which has little foundation in anygenuine personal experience. It remains true, none the less, for thegreat majority of men, that they gather an edifying understanding of menand things just in so far as they patiently and resolutely stick to theperformance of some special and (for the most part) congenial task. Their education in life must be grounded in the persistent attempt torealize in action some kind of a purpose--a purpose usually connectedwith the occupation whereby they live. In the pursuit of that purposethey will be continually making experiments--opening up new lines ofwork, establishing new relations with other men, and taking more or lessserious risks. Each of these experiments offers them an opportunity bothfor personal discipline and for increasing personal insight. If a man iscapable of becoming wise, he will gradually be able to infer from thisincreasing mass of personal experience, the extent to which or theconditions under which he is capable of realizing his purpose; and hisinsight into the particular realities of his own life will bring withit some kind of a general philosophy--some sort of a disposition andmethod of appraisal of men, their actions, and their surroundings. Wherever a man reaches such a level of intelligence, he will be aneducated man, even though his particular job has been that of amechanic. On the other hand, a man who fails to make his particular taskin life the substantial support of a genuine experience remainsessentially an unenlightened man. 

National education in its deeper aspect does not differ from individualeducation. Its efficiency ultimately depends upon the ability of thenational consciousness to draw illuminating inferences from the courseof the national experience; and its power to draw such inferences mustdepend upon the persistent and disinterested sincerity with which theattempt is made to realize the national purpose--the democratic ideal ofindividual and social improvement. So far as Americans are true to thatpurpose, all the different aspects of their national experience willassume meaning and momentum; while in so far as they are false thereto, no amount of "education" will ever be really edifying. The fundamentalprocess of American education consists and must continue to consistprecisely in the risks and experiments which the American nation willmake in the service of its national ideal. If the American people balkat the sacrifices demanded by their experiments, or if they attachfinality to any particular experiment in the distribution of political, economic, and social power, they will remain morally and intellectuallyat the bottom of a well, out of which they will never be "uplifted" bythe most extravagant subsidizing of good intentions and noble words. 

The sort of institutional and economic reorganization suggested in thepreceding chapters is not, consequently, to be conceived merely as amore or less dubious proposal to improve human nature by laws. It is tobe conceived as (possibly) the next step in the realization of anecessary collective purpose. Its deeper significance does not consistin the results which it may accomplish by way of immediate improvement. Such results may be worth having; but at best they will create almost asmany difficulties as they remove. Far more important than any practicalbenefits would be the indication it afforded of national good faith. Itwould mean that the American nation was beginning to educate itself upto its own necessary standards. It would imply a popular realizationthat our first experiment in democratic political and economicorganization was founded partly on temporary conditions and partly onerroneous theories. A new experiment must consequently be made; and thegreat value of this new experiment would derive from the impliedintellectual and moral emancipation. Its trial would demand both thesacrifice of many cherished interests, habits, and traditions for thesake of remaining true to a more fundamental responsibility and a muchlarger infusion of disinterested motives into the economic and politicalsystem. Thus the sincere definite decision that the experiment wasnecessary, would probably do more for American moral and socialamelioration than would the specific measures actually adopted andtried. Public opinion can never be brought to approve any effectualmeasures, until it is converted to a constructive and consequently to areally educational theory of democracy. 

Back of the problem of educating the individual lies the problem ofcollective education. On the one hand, if the nation is renderedincapable of understanding its own experience by the habit of dealinginsincerely with its national purpose, the individual, just in so far ashe himself has become highly educated, tends to be divided from hiscountry and his fellow-countrymen. On the other hand, just in so far asa people is sincerely seeking the fulfillment of its national Promise, individuals of all kinds will find their most edifying individualopportunities in serving their country. In aiding the accomplishment ofthe collective purpose by means of increasingly constructiveexperiments, they will be increasing the scope and power of their ownindividual action. The opportunities, which during the past few yearsthe reformers have enjoyed to make their personal lives moreinteresting, would be nothing compared to the opportunities for allsorts of stirring and responsible work, which would be demanded ofindividuals under the proposed plan of political and economicreorganization. The American nation would be more disinterestedly andsincerely fulfilling its collective purpose, partly because its moredistinguished individuals had been called upon to place at the serviceof their country a higher degree of energy, ability, and unselfishdevotion. If a nation, that is, is recreant to its deeper purpose, individuals, so far as they are well educated, are educated away fromthe prevailing national habits and traditions; whereas when a nation issincerely attempting to meet its collective responsibility, the betterindividuals are inevitably educated into active participation in thecollective task. 

The reader may now be prepared to understand why the American faith ineducation has the appearance of being credulous and superstitious. Thegood average American usually wishes to accomplish exclusively byindividual education a result which must be partly accomplished bynational education. The nation, like the individual, must go to school;and the national school is not a lecture hall or a library. Itsschooling consists chiefly in experimental collective action aimed atthe realization of the collective purpose. If the action is not aimed atthe collective purpose, a nation will learn little even from itssuccesses. If its action is aimed at the collective purpose, it maylearn much even from its mistakes. No process of merely individualeducation can accomplish the work of collective education, because thenation is so much more than a group of individuals. Individuals can be"uplifted" without "uplifting" the nation, because the nation has anindividuality of its own, which cannot be increased without theconsciousness of collective responsibilities and the collective officialattempt to redeem them. The processes of national and individualeducation should, of course, parallel and supplement each other. Theindividual can do much to aid national education by the single-mindedand intelligent realization of his own specific purposes; but allindividual successes will have little more than an individual interestunless they frequently contribute to the work of national construction. The nation can do much to aid individual education; but the best aidwithin its power is to offer to the individual a really formative andinspiring opportunity for public service. The whole round of superficialeducational machinery--books, subsidies, resolutions, lectures, congresses--may be of the highest value, provided they are used todigest and popularize the results of a genuine individual and nationaleducational experience, but when they are used, as so often at present, merely as a substitute for well-purposed individual and national action, they are precisely equivalent to an attempt to fly in a vacuum. 

That the direct practical value of a reform movement may be equaled orsurpassed by its indirect educational value is a sufficiently familiaridea--an idea admirably expressed ten years ago by Mr. John Jay Chapmanin the chapter on "Education" in his "Causes and Consequences. " But theidea in its familiar form is vitiated, because the educational effect ofreform is usually conceived as exclusively individual. Its effect_must_, indeed, be considered wholly as an individual matter, just solong as reform is interpreted merely as a process of purification. Fromthat point of view the collective purpose has already been fulfilled asfar as it can be fulfilled by collective organization, and the _only_remaining method of social amelioration is that of the self-improvementof its constituent members. As President Nicholas Murray Butler ofColumbia says, in his "True and False Democracy": "We must not losesight of the fact that the corporate or collective responsibility whichit (socialism) would substitute for individual initiative is only suchcorporate or collective responsibility as a group of these very sameindividuals could exercise. Therefore, socialism is primarily an attemptto overcome man's individual imperfections by adding them together, inthe hope that they will cancel each other. " But what is all organizationbut an attempt, not to overcome man's individual imperfections by addingthem together, so much as to make use of many men's varying individualabilities by giving each a sufficient sphere of exercise? While all menare imperfect, they are not all imperfect to the same extent. Some havemore courage, more ability, more insight, and more training than others;and an efficient organization can accomplish more than can a merecollection of individuals, precisely because it may represent a standardof performance far above that of the average individual. Its merit issimply that of putting the collective power of the group at the serviceof its ablest members; and the ablest members of the group will neverattain to an individual responsibility commensurate with their powers, until they are enabled to work efficiently towards the redemption of thecollective responsibility. The nation gives individuality an increasedscope and meaning by offering individuals a chance for effectiveservice, such as they could never attain under a system of collectiveirresponsibility. Thus under a system of collective responsibility theprocess of social improvement is absolutely identified with that ofindividual improvement. The antithesis is not between nationalism andindividualism, but between an individualism which is indiscriminate, andan individualism which is selective. 

II

CONDITIONS OF INDIVIDUAL EMANCIPATION

It is, then, essential to recognize that the individual American willnever obtain a sufficiently complete chance of self-expression, untilthe American nation has earnestly undertaken and measurably achieved therealization of its collective purpose. As we shall see presently, thecure for this individual sterility lies partly with the individualhimself or rather with the man who proposes to become an individual; andunder any plan of economic or social organization, the man who proposesto become an individual is a condition of national as well as individualimprovement. It is none the less true that any success in theachievement of the national purpose will contribute positively to theliberation of the individual, both by diminishing his temptations, improving his opportunities, and by enveloping him in an invigoratingrather than an enervating moral and intellectual atmosphere. 

It is the economic individualism of our existing national system whichinflicts the most serious damage on American individuality; and Americanindividual achievement in politics and science and the arts will remainpartially impoverished as long as our fellow-countrymen neglect orrefuse systematically to regulate the distribution of wealth in thenational interest. I am aware, of course, that the prevailing Americanconviction is absolutely contradictory of the foregoing assertion. Americans have always associated individual freedom with the unlimitedpopular enjoyment of all available economic opportunities. Yet it wouldbe far more true to say that the popular enjoyment of practicallyunrestricted economic opportunities is precisely the condition whichmakes for individual bondage. Neither does the bondage which such asystem fastens upon the individual exist only in the case of thoseindividuals who are victimized by the pressure of unlimited economiccompetition. Such victims exist, of course, in large numbers, and theywill come to exist in still larger number hereafter; but hitherto, atleast, the characteristic vice of the American system has not been thebondage imposed upon its victims. Much more insidious has been thebondage imposed upon the conquerors and their camp-followers. A man'sindividuality is as much compromised by success under the conditionsimposed by such a system as it is by failure. His actual occupation maytend to make his individuality real and fruitful; but the quality of thework is determined by a merely acquisitive motive, and the man himselfthereby usually debarred from obtaining any edifying personalindependence or any peculiar personal distinction. Different as Americanbusiness men are one from another in temperament, circumstances, andhabits, they have a way of becoming fundamentally very much alike. Theirindividualities are forced into a common mold, because the ultimatemeasure of the value of their work is the same, and is nothing but itsresults in cash. 

Consider for a moment what individuality and individual independencereally mean. A genuine individual must at least possess some specialquality which distinguishes him from other people, which unifies thesuccessive phases and the various aspects of his own life and whichresults in personal moral freedom. In what way and to what extent doesthe existing economic system contribute to the creation of such genuineindividuals? At its best it asks of every man who engages in a businessoccupation that he make as much money as he can, and the only conditionsit imposes on this pursuit of money are those contained in the law ofthe land and a certain conventional moral code. The pursuit of money isto arouse a man to individual activity, and law and custom determine theconditions to which the activity must conform. The man does not becomean individual merely by obeying the written and unwritten laws. Hebecomes an individual because the desire to make money releases hisenergy and intensifies his personal initiative. The kind of individualscreated by such an economic system are not distinguished one fromanother by any special purpose. They are distinguished by the energy andsuccess whereby the common purpose of making money is accompanied andfollowed. Some men show more enterprise and ingenuity in devising waysof making money than others, or they show more vigor and zeal in takingadvantage of the ordinary methods. These men are the kind of individualswhich the existing economic system tends to encourage; and critics ofthe existing system are denounced, because of the disastrous effect uponindividual initiative which would result from restricting individualeconomic freedom. 

But why should a man become an individual because he does what everybodyelse does, only with more energy and success? The individuality soacquired is merely that of one particle in a mass of similar particles. Some particles are bigger than others and livelier; but from asufficient distance they all look alike; and in substance and meaningthey all are alike. Their individual activity and history do not makethem less alike. It merely makes them bigger or smaller, livelier ormore inert. Their distinction from their fellows is quantitative; theunity of their various phases a matter of repetition; their independencewholly comparative. Such men are associated with their fellows in thepursuit of a common purpose, and they are divided from their fellows bythe energy and success with which that purpose is pursued. On the otherhand, a condition favorable to genuine individuality would be one inwhich men were divided from one another by special purposes, andreunited in so far as these individual purposes were excellently andsuccessfully achieved. 

The truth is that individuality cannot be dissociated from the pursuitof a disinterested object. It is a moral and intellectual quality, andit must be realized by moral and intellectual means. A man achievesindividual distinction, not by the enterprise and vigor with which heaccumulates money, but by the zeal and the skill with which he pursuesan exclusive interest--an interest usually, but not necessarily, connected with his means of livelihood. The purpose to which he isdevoted--such, for instance, as that of painting or of running arailroad--is not exclusive in the sense of being unique. But it becomesexclusive for the individual who adopts it, because of the single-mindedand disinterested manner in which it is pursued. A man makes the purposeexclusive for himself by the spirit and method in which the work isdone; and just in proportion as the work is thoroughly well done, aman's individuality begins to take substance and form. His individualquality does not depend merely on the display of superior enterpriseand energy, although, of course, he may and should be as enterprisingand as energetic as he can. It depends upon the actual excellence of thework in every respect, --an excellence which can best be achieved by theabsorbing and exclusive pursuit of that alone. A man's individuality isprojected into his work. He does not stop when he has earned enoughmoney, and he does not cease his improvements when they cease to bringin an immediate return. He is identified with his job, and by means ofthat identification his individuality becomes constructive. Hisachievement, just because of its excellence, has an inevitable and anunequivocal social value. The quality of a man's work reunites him withhis fellows. He may have been in appearance just as selfish as a man whospends most of his time in making money, but if his work has beenthoroughly well done, he will, in making himself an individual, havemade an essential contribution to national fulfillment. 

Of course, a great deal of very excellent work is accomplished under theexisting economic system; and by means of such work many a man becomesmore or less of an individual. But in so far as such is the case, it isthe work which individualizes and not the unrestricted competitivepursuit of money. In so far as the economic motive prevails, individuality is not developed; it is stifled. The man whose motive isthat of money-making will not make the work any more excellent than isdemanded by the largest possible returns; and frequently the largestpossible returns are to be obtained by indifferent work or by work whichhas absolutely no social value. The ordinary mercenary purpose alwayscompels a man to stop at a certain point, and consider something elsethan the excellence of his achievement. It does not make the individualindependent, except in so far as independence is merely a matter of cashin the bank; and for every individual on whom it bestows excessivepecuniary independence, there are many more who are by that verycircumstance denied any sort of liberation. Even pecuniary independenceis usually purchased at the price of moral and intellectual bondage. Such genuine individuality as can be detected in the existing socialsystem is achieved not because of the prevailing money-making motive, but in spite thereof. 

The ordinary answer to such criticisms is that while the existingsystem may have many faults, it certainly has proved an efficient meansof releasing individual energy; whereas the exercise of a positivenational responsibility for the wholesome distribution of wealth wouldtend to deprive the individual of any sufficient initiative. The claimis that the money-making motive is the only one which will really arousethe great majority of men, and to weaken it would be to rob the wholeeconomic system of its momentum. Just what validity this claim may havecannot, with our present experience, be definitely settled. That todeprive individuals suddenly of the opportunities they have so longenjoyed would be disastrous may be fully admitted. It may also beadmitted that any immediate and drastic attempt to substitute for thepresent system a national regulation of the distribution of wealth or anational responsibility for the management even of monopolies orsemi-monopolies would break down and would do little to promote eitherindividual or social welfare. But to conclude from any such admissionsthat a systematic policy of promoting individual and nationalamelioration should be abandoned in wholly unnecessary. That theexisting system has certain practical advantages, and is a fairexpression of the average moral standards of to-day is not only itschief merit, but also its chief and inexcusable defect. What ademocratic nation must do is not to accept human nature as it is, but tomove in the direction of its improvement. The question it must answeris: How can it contribute to the increase of American individuality? Thedefender of the existing system must be able to show either (1) that itdoes contribute to the increase of American individuality; or that (2)whatever its limitations, the substitution of some better system isimpossible. 

Of course, a great many defenders of the existing system willunequivocally declare that it does contribute effectually to theincrease of individuality, and it is this defense which is mostdangerous, because it is due, not to any candid consideration of thefacts, but to unreasoning popular prejudice and personalself-justification. The existing system contributes to the increase ofindividuality only in case individuality is deprived of all seriousmoral and intellectual meaning. In order to sustain their assertion theymust define individuality, not as a living ideal, but as thepsychological condition produced by any individual action. In the lightof such a definition every action performed by an individual wouldcontribute to individuality; and, conversely, every action performed bythe state, which conceivably could be left to individuals, woulddiminish individuality. Such a conception derives from the earlynineteenth century principles of an essential opposition between thestate and the individual; and it is a deduction from the commonconception of democracy as nothing but a finished political organizationin which the popular will prevails. As applied in the traditionalAmerican system this conception of individuality has resulted in thedifferentiation of an abundance of raw individual material, but the rawmaterial has been systematically encouraged to persist only on conditionthat it remained undeveloped. Properly speaking, it has not encouragedindividualism at all. Individuality is necessarily based on genuinediscrimination. It has encouraged particularism. While the particleshave been roused into activity, they all remain dominated bysubstantially the same forces of attraction and repulsion. But in orderthat one of the particles may fulfill the promise of a really separateexistence, he must pursue some special interest of his own. In that wayhe begins to realize his individuality, and in realizing hisindividuality he is coming to occupy a special niche in the nationalstructure. A national structure which encourages individuality asopposed to mere particularity is one which creates innumerable specialniches, adapted to all degrees and kinds of individual development. Theindividual becomes a nation in miniature, but devoted to the loyalrealization of a purpose peculiar to himself. The nation becomes anenlarged individual whose special purpose is that of human amelioration, and in whose life every individual should find some particular butessential function. 

It surely cannot be seriously claimed that the improvement of theexisting economic organization for the sake of contributing to theincrease of such genuine individuals is impossible. If genuineindividuality depends upon the pursuit of an exclusive interest, promoted most certainly and completely by a disinterested motive, itmust be encouraged by enabling men so far as possible to work fromdisinterested motives. Doubtless this is a difficult, but it is not animpossible task. It cannot be completely achieved until the whole basisof economic competition is changed. At present men compete chiefly forthe purpose of securing the most money to spend or to accumulate. Theymust in the end compete chiefly for the purpose of excelling in thequality of their work that of other men engaged in a similar occupation. And there are assuredly certain ways in which the state can diminish theundesirable competition and encourage the desirable competition. 

The several economic reforms suggested in the preceding chapter would, so far as they could be successfully introduced, promote moredisinterested economic work. These reforms would not, of course, entirely do away with the influence of selfish acquisitive motives inthe economic field, because such motives must remain powerful as long asprivate property continues to have a public economic function. But theywould at least diminish the number of cases in which the influence ofthe mercenary motive made against rather than for excellence of work. The system which most encourages mere cupidity is one which affords toomany opportunities for making "easy money, " and our American system has, of course, been peculiarly prolific of such opportunities. As long asindividuals are allowed to accumulate money from mines, urban realestate, municipal franchises, or semi-monopolies of any kind, just tothat extent will the economic system of the country be poisoned, and itsgeneral efficiency impaired. Men will inevitably seek to make money inthe easiest possible way, and as long as such easy ways exist fewerindividuals will accept cordially the necessity of earning their livingby the sheer excellence of achievement. On the other hand, in case suchopportunities of making money without earning it can be eliminated, there will be a much closer correspondence than there is at presentbetween the excellence of the work and the reward it would bring. Such acorrespondence would, of course, be far from exact. In all petty kindsof business innumerable opportunities would still exist of earning moremoney either by disregarding the quality of the work or sometimes byactually lowering it. But at any rate it would be work which would earnmoney, and not speculation or assiduous repose in an easy chair. 

In the same way, just in so far as industry became organized undernational control for the public benefit, there would be a much closercorrespondence between the quality of the work and the amount of thereward. In a well-managed corporation a man is promoted because he doesgood work, and has shown himself capable of assuming largerresponsibilities and exercising more power. His promotion brings with ita larger salary, and the chance of obtaining a larger salary doubtlesshas much to do with the excellence of the work; but at all events a manis not rewarded for doing bad work or for doing no work at all. Thesuccessful employee of a corporation has not become disinterested in hismotives. Presumably he will not do any more work than will contribute tohis personal advancement; and if the standard of achievement in hisoffice is at all relaxed, he will not be kept up to the mark by anexclusive and disinterested devotion to the work itself. Still, undersuch conditions a man might well become better than his own motives. Whenever the work itself was really interesting, he might becomeabsorbed in it by the very momentum of his habitual occupation, and thiswould be particularly the case provided his work assumed a technicalcharacter. In that case he would have to live up to the standard, notmerely of an office, but of a trade, a profession, a craft, an art, or ascience; and if those technical standards were properly exacting, hewould be kept up to the level of his best work by a motive which hadalmost become disinterested. He could not fall below the standard, eventhough he derived no personal profit from striving to live up to it, because the traditions and the honor of his craft would not let him. 

The proposed economic policy of reform, in so far as it were successful, would also tend to stimulate labor to more efficiency, and to diminishits grievances. The state would be lending assistance to the effort ofthe workingman to raise his standard of living, and to restrict thedemoralizing effect of competition among laborers who cannot afford tomake a stand on behalf of their own interest. It should, consequently, increase the amount of economic independence enjoyed by the averagelaborer, diminish his "class consciousness" by doing away with his classgrievances, and intensify his importance to himself as an individual. Itwould in every way help to make the individual workingman more of anindividual. His class interest would be promoted by the nation in sofar as such promotion was possible, and could be adjusted to a generalpolicy of national economic construction. His individual interest wouldbe left in his own charge; but he would have much more favorableopportunities of redeeming the charge by the excellence of hisindividual work than he has under the existing system. His conditionwould doubtless still remain in certain respects unsatisfactory, for thepurpose of a democratic nation must remain unfulfilled just in so far asthe national organization of labor does not enable all men to compete onapproximately equal terms for all careers. But a substantial step wouldbe made towards its improvement, and the road marked, perhaps, for stillfurther advance. 

Again, however, must the reader be warned that the important thing isthe constructive purpose, and not the means proposed for itsrealization. Whenever the attempt at its realization is made, it isprobable that other and unforeseen measures will be found necessary; andeven if a specific policy proposed were successfully tried, this wouldconstitute merely an advance towards the ultimate end. The ultimate endis the complete emancipation of the individual, and that result dependsupon his complete disinterestedness. He must become interestedexclusively in the excellence of his work; and he can never becomedisinterestedly interested in his work as long as heavy responsibilitiesand high achievements are supposed to be rewarded by increased pay. Theeffort equitably to adjust compensation to earnings is ultimately notonly impossible, but undesirable, because it necessarily would foul thewhole economic organization--so far as its efficiency depended on agenerous rivalry among individuals. The only way in which work can bemade entirely disinterested is to adjust its compensation to the needsof a normal and wholesome human life. 

Any substantial progress towards the attainment of complete individualdisinterestedness is far beyond the reach of contemporary collectiveeffort, but such disinterestedness should be clearly recognized as theeconomic condition both of the highest fulfillment which democracy canbestow upon the individual and of a thoroughly wholesome democraticorganization. Says Mr. John Jay Chapman in the chapter on "Democracy, "in his "Causes and Consequences": "It is thought that the peculiar meritof democracy lies in this: that it gives every man a chance to pursuehis own ends. The reverse is true. The merit lies in the assumptionimposed upon every man that he shall serve his fellow-men.... Theconcentration of every man on his own interests has been the danger andnot the safety of democracy, for democracy contemplates that every manshall think first of the state and next of himself.... Democracy assumesperfection in human nature. " But men will always continue chiefly topursue their own private ends as long as those ends are recognized bythe official national ideal as worthy of perpetuation and encouragement. If it be true that democracy is based upon the assumption that every manshall serve his fellow-men, the organization of democracy should begradually adapted to that assumption. The majority of men cannot be madedisinterested for life by exhortation, by religious services, by anyexpenditure of subsidized words, or even by a grave and manifest publicneed. They can be made permanently unselfish only by being helped tobecome disinterested in their individual purposes, and how can they bedisinterested except in a few little spots as long as their dailyoccupation consists of money seeking and spending in conformity with afew written and unwritten rules? In the complete democracy a man must insome way be made to serve the nation in the very act of contributing tohis own individual fulfillment. Not until his personal action isdictated by disinterested motives can there be any such harmony betweenprivate and public interests. To ask an individual citizen continuallyto sacrifice his recognized private interest to the welfare of hiscountrymen is to make an impossible demand, and yet just such acontinual sacrifice is apparently required of an individual in ademocratic state. The only entirely satisfactory solution of thedifficulty is offered by the systematic authoritative transformation ofthe private interest of the individual into a disinterested devotion toa special object. 

American public opinion has not as yet begun to understand the relationbetween the process of national education by means of a patient attemptto realize the national purpose and the corresponding process ofindividual emancipation and growth. It still believes that democracy isa happy device for evading collective responsibilities by passing themon to the individual; and as long as this belief continues to prevail, the first necessity of American educational advance is the arousing ofthe American intellectual conscience. Behind the tradition of nationalirresponsibility is the still deeper tradition of intellectualinsincerity in political matters. Americans are almost as much afraid ofconsistent and radical political thinking as are the English, and withnothing like as much justification. Jefferson offered them a seductiveexample of triumphant intellectual dishonesty, and of the sacrifice oftheory to practice, whenever such a sacrifice was convenient. Jefferson's example has been warmly approved by many subsequentintellectual leaders. Before Emerson and after, mere consistency hasbeen stigmatized as the preoccupation of petty minds; and our Americansuperiority to the necessity of making ideas square with practice, orone idea with another, has been considered as an exhibition ofremarkable political common sense. The light-headed Frenchmen reallybelieved in their ideas, and fell thereby into a shocking abyss ofanarchy and fratricidal bloodshed, whereas we have avoided any similarfate by preaching a "noble national theory" and then practicing it justas far as it suited our interests or was not too costly in time andmoney. No doubt, we also have had our domestic difficulties, and wereobliged to shed a good deal of American blood, because we resolutelyrefused to believe that human servitude was not entirely compatible withthe loftiest type of democracy; but then, the Civil War might have beenavoided if the Abolitionists had not erroneously insisted on beingconsistent. The way to escape similar trouble in the future is to go onpreaching ideality, and to leave its realization wholly to theindividual. We can then be "uplifted" by the words, while the resultingdeeds cannot do us, as individuals, any harm. We can continue tocelebrate our "noble national theory" and preserve our perfectdemocratic system until the end of time without making any of theindividual sacrifices or taking any of the collective risks, inseparablefrom a systematic attempt to make our words good. 

The foregoing state of mind is the great obstacle to the Americannational advance; and its exposure and uprooting is the primary need ofAmerican education. In agitating against the traditional disregard ofour full national responsibility, a critic will do well to dispense withthe caution proper to the consideration of specific practical problems. A radical theory does not demand in the interest of consistency anequally radical action. It only demands a sincere attempt to push theapplication of the theory as far as conditions will permit, and theemployment of means sufficient probably to accomplish the immediatepurpose. But in the endeavor to establish and popularize his theory, aradical critic cannot afford any similar concessions. His own opinionscan become established only by the displacement of the traditionalopinions; and the way to displace a traditional error is not to becompromising and conciliatory, but to be as uncompromising and asirritating as one's abilities and one's vision of the truth will permit. The critic in his capacity as agitator is living in a state of war withhis opponents; and the ethics of warfare are not the ethics ofstatesmanship. Public opinion can be reconciled to a constructivenational programme only by the agitation of what is from the traditionalstandpoint a body of revolutionary ideas. 

In vigorously agitating such a body of revolutionary ideas, the criticwould be doing more than performing a desirable public service. He wouldbe vindicating his own individual intellectual interest. The integrityand energy of American intellectual life has been impaired forgenerations by the tradition of national irresponsibility. Suchirresponsibility necessarily implies a sacrifice of individualintellectual and moral interests to individual and popular economicinterests. It could not persist except by virtue of intellectual andmoral conformity. The American intellectual habit has on the whole beenjust about as vigorous and independent as that of the domestic animals. The freedom of opinion of which we boast has consisted for the most partin uttering acceptable commonplaces with as much defiant conviction asif we were uttering the most daring and sublimest heresies. In makingthis parade of the uniform of intellectual independence, the American isnot consciously insincere. He is prepared to do battle for hisconvictions, but his really fundamental convictions he shares witheverybody else. His differences with his fellow-countrymen are those ofinterest and detail. When he breaks into a vehement proclamation of hisfaith, he is much like a bull, who has broken out of his stall, and goessnorting around the barnyard, tossing everybody within reach of hishorns. A bull so employed might well consider that he was offering theworld a fine display of aggressive individuality, whereas he had intruth been behaving after the manner of all bulls from the dawn ofdomestication. No doubt he is quite capable of being a dangerouscustomer, in case he can reach anybody with his horns; but on the otherhand how meekly can he be led back into the stall by the simple deviceof attaching a ring to his nose. His individuality always has a tenderspot, situated in much the same neighborhood as his personal economicinterests. If this tender spot is merely irritated, it will make himrage; but when seized with a firm grip he loses all his defiance andbecomes as aggressive an individual as a good milch cow. 

The American intellectual interest demands, consequently, a differentsort of assertion from the American economic or political interest. Economically and politically the need is for constructive regulation, implying the imposition of certain fruitful limitations upon traditionalindividual freedom. But the national intellectual development demandsabove all individual emancipation. American intelligence has still toissue its Declaration of Independence. It has still to proclaim that ina democratic system the intelligence has a discipline, an interest, anda will of its own, and that this special discipline and interest callfor a new conception both of individual and of national development. Forthe time being the freedom which Americans need is the freedom ofthought. The energy they need is the energy of thought. The moral unitythey need cannot be obtained without intensity and integrity of thought. 

III

ATTEMPTS AT INDIVIDUAL EMANCIPATION

Americans believe, of course, that they enjoy perfect freedom ofopinion, and so they do in form. There is no legal encouragement of anyone set of opinions. There is no legal discouragement of another set ofopinions. They have denied intellectual freedom to themselves bymethods very much more insidious than those employed by a despoticgovernment. A national tradition has been established which preventsindividuals from desiring freedom; and if they should desire and obtainit, they are prevented from using it. The freedom of American speech andthought has not been essentially different from the freedom of speechwhich a group of prisoners might enjoy during the term of theirimprisonment. The prisoners could, of course, think and talk much asthey pleased, but there was nobody but themselves to hear; and in theabsence both of an adequate material, discipline, and audience, both thewords and thoughts were without avail. The truth is, of course, thatintellectual individuality and independence were sacrificed for thebenefit of social homogeneity and the quickest possible development ofAmerican economic opportunities; and in this way a vital relation hasbeen established for Americans between the assertion of intellectualindependence or moral individuality and the adoption of a nationalizedeconomic and political system. 

During the Middle Period American individual intelligence did, indeed, struggle gallantly to attain freedom. The intellectual ferment at thattime was more active and more general than it is to-day. During thethree decades before the war, a remarkable outbreak of heresy occurredall over the East and middle West. Every convention of American life wasquestioned, except those unconscious conventions of feeling and thoughtwhich pervaded the intellectual and moral atmosphere. The Abolitionistagitation was the one practical political result of this ferment, butmany of these free-thinkers wished to emancipate the whites as well asthe blacks. They fearlessly challenged substantially all the establishedinstitutions of society. The institutions of marriage and the statefared frequently as ill as did property and the church. Radical, however, as they were in thought, they were by no means revolutionary inaction. The several brands of heresy differed too completely one fromanother to be melted into a single political agitation and programme. The need for action spent itself in the formation of socialisticcommunities of the most varied kind, the great majority of which weresoon either disbanded or transformed. But whatever its limitations theferment was symptomatic of a genuine revolt of the American spiritagainst the oppressive servitude of the individual intelligence to thesocial will, demanded by the popular democratic system and tradition. 

The revolt, however, with all the sincere enthusiasm it inspired, wascondemned to sterility. It accomplished nothing and could accomplishnothing for society, because it sought by individual or unofficialassociated action results which demanded official collective action; andit accomplished little even for the individual, because it was not theoutcome of any fruitful individual discipline. The emancipated idea wasusually defined by seeking the opposite of the conventional idea. Individuality was considered to be a matter of being somehow and anyhowdifferent from other people. There was no authentic intellectualdiscipline behind the agitation. The pioneer democrat with all hislimitations embodied the only living national body of opinion, and heremained untainted by this outburst of heresy. He deprived it of allvitality by depriving its separate explosions, Abolitionism excepted, ofall serious attention. He crushed it far more effectually byindifference than he would have by persecution. When the shock of theCivil War aroused Americans to a realization of the unpleasant politicalrealities sometimes associated with the neglect of a "noble nationaltheory, " the ferment subsided without leaving behind so much as a loafof good white bread. 

For practical political purposes it exhausted itself, as I have said, inAbolitionism, and in that movement both its strength and weakness arewrit plain. Its revolt on behalf of emancipation was courageous andsincere. The patriotism which inspired it recognized the need ofjustifying its protestantism by a better conception of democracy. Butthe heresy was as incoherent and as credulous as the antitheticorthodoxy. It sought to accomplish an intellectual revolution withoutorganizing either an army or an armament--just as the pioneer democratexpected to convert untutored enthusiasm into acceptable technical work, and a popular political and economic atomism into a substantiallysocialized community. In its meaning and effect, consequently, therevolt was merely negative and anti-national. It served a constructivedemocratic purpose only by the expensive and dubious means ofinstigating a Civil War. If any of the other heresies of the period, aswell as Abolitionism, had developed into an effective popular agitation, they could have obtained a similar success only by means of incurring asimilar danger. The intellectual ideals of the movement were noteducational, and its declaration of intellectual independence issued inas sterile a programme for the Republic of American thought as did theDeclaration of Political Independence for the American nationaldemocracy. 

In truth all these mid-century American heretics were not heretics atall in relation to really stupefying and perverting American tradition. They were sturdily rebellious against all manner of respectable methods, ideas, and institutions, but none of them dreamed of protesting againstthe real enemy of American intellectual independence. They never dreamedof associating the moral and intellectual emancipation of the individualwith the conscious fulfillment of the American national purpose and withthe patient and open-eyed individual and social discipline therebydemanded. They all shared the illusion of the pioneers that somehow aspecial Providential design was effective on behalf of the Americanpeople, which permitted them as individuals and as a society to achievetheir purposes by virtue of good intentions, exuberant enthusiasm, andenlightened selfishness. The New World and the new American idea hadreleased them from the bonds in which less fortunate Europeans wereentangled. Those bonds were not to be considered as the terms underwhich excellent individual and social purposes were necessarily to beachieved. They were bad habits, which the dead past had imposed upon theinhabitants of the Old World, and from which Americans could beemancipated by virtue of their abundant faith in human nature and theboundless natural opportunities of the new continent. 

Thus the American national ideal of the Middle Period was essentiallygeographical. The popular thinkers of that day were hypnotized by thereiterated suggestion of a new American world. Their fellow-countrymenhad obtained and were apparently making good use of a whollyunprecedented amount of political and economic freedom; and they jumpedto the conclusion that the different disciplinary methods which limitedboth individual and social action in Europe were unnecessary. Just asthe Jacksonian Democracy had finally vindicated American politicalindependence by doing away with the remnants of our earlier politicalcolonialism, so American moral and intellectual independence demanded asimilar vindication. This geographical protestantism was in a measureprovoked, if not justified, by the habit of colonial dependence uponEurope in matters of opinion, which so many well-educated Americans ofthat period continued to cherish. But it was based upon the illusionthat the economic and social conditions of the Middle Period, whichfavored temporarily a mixture of faith and irresponsibility, freedom andformlessness, would persist and could be translated into terms ofindividual intellectual and moral discipline. In truth, it was, ofcourse, a great mistake to conceive Americanism as intellectually andmorally a species of Newer-Worldliness. A national intellectual idealdid not divide us from Europe any more than did a national politicalideal. In both cases national independence had no meaning except in asystem of international, intellectual, moral, and political relations. American national independence was to be won, not by means of a perverseopposition to European intellectual and moral influence, but by apositive and a thorough-going devotion to our own national democraticideal. 

The national intellectual ideal could afford to be as indifferent to thesources of American intellectual life as the American political idealwas to the sources of American citizenship. The important thing was andis, not where our citizens or our special disciplinary ideals come from, but what use we make of them. Just as economic and political Americanismhas been broad enough and vital enough to make a place in the Americansocial economy for the hordes of European immigrants with their manydiverse national characteristics, so the intellectual basis ofAmericanism must be broad enough to include and vigorous enough toassimilate the special ideals and means of discipline necessary to everykind of intellectual or moral excellence. The technical ideals andstandards which the typical American of the Middle Period instinctivelyunder-valued are neither American nor European. They are merely thespecial forms whereby the several kinds of intellectual eminence are tobe obtained. They belong to the nature of the craft. Those forms andstandards were never sufficiently naturalized in America during theColonial Period, because the economic and social conditions of the timedid not justify such naturalization. The appropriate occasion for thetransfer was postponed until after American political independence hadbeen secured; and when occasion did not arise, the naturalness of thetransfer was perverted and obscured by political preconceptions. 

The foregoing considerations throw a new light upon the mistake made bythe American heretics of the Middle Period. In so far as their assertionof American intellectual independence was negative, it should not havebeen a protest against "feudalism, " social classification, social andindividual discipline, approved technical methods, or any of thosesocial forms and intellectual standards which so many Americans vaguelybelieved to be exclusively European. It should have been a protestagainst a sterile and demoralizing Americanism--the Americanism ofnational irresponsibility and indiscriminate individualism. The bondagefrom which Americans needed, and still need, emancipation is not fromEurope, but from the evasions, the incoherence, the impatience, and theeasy-going conformity of their own intellectual and moral traditions. Wedo not have to cross the Atlantic in order to hunt for the enemies ofAmerican national independence and fulfillment. They sit at ourpolitical fireside and toast their feet on its coals. They poisonAmerican patriotic feeling until it becomes, not a leaven, but a kind ofnational gelatine. They enshrine this American democratic ideal in atemple of canting words which serves merely as a cover for a religion ofpersonal profit. American moral and intellectual emancipation can beachieved only by a victory over the ideas, the conditions, and thestandards which make Americanism tantamount to collectiveirresponsibility and to the moral and intellectual subordination of theindividual to a commonplace popular average. 

The heretics of the Middle Period were not cowardly, but they wereintellectually irresponsible, undisciplined, and inexperienced. Sharing, as they did, most of the deeper illusions of their time, they did notvindicate their own individual intellectual independence, and theycontributed little or nothing to American national intellectualindependence. With the exception of a few of the men of letters who hadinherited a formative local tradition, their own personal careers wereexamples not of gradual individual fulfillment, but at best ofrepetition and at worst of degeneracy. Like the most brilliantcontemporary Whig politicians, such as Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, their intellectual individuality was gradually cheapened by the mannerin which it was expressed; and it is this fact which makes the case ofLincoln, both as a politician and a thinker, so unique and soextraordinary. The one public man of this period who did impose uponhimself a patient and a severe intellectual and moral discipline, whoreally did seek the excellent use of his own proper tools, is the manwho preëminently attained national intellectual and moral stature. Thedifference in social value between Lincoln and, say, William LloydGarrison can be measured by the difference in moral and intellectualdiscipline to which each of these men submitted. Lincoln sedulouslyturned to account every intellectual and moral opportunity which hislife afforded. Garrison's impatient temper and unbalanced mind made himthe enthusiastic advocate of a few distorted and limited ideas. Theconsequence was that Garrison, although apparently an arch-heretic, wasin reality the victim of the sterile American convention which makeswillful enthusiasm, energy, and good intentions a sufficient substitutefor necessary individual and collective training. Lincoln, on the otherhand, was in his whole moral and intellectual make-up a living protestagainst the aggressive, irresponsible, and merely practical Americanismof his day; while at the same time in the greatness of his love andunderstanding he never allowed his distinction to divide him from hisfellow-countrymen. His was the unconscious and constructive heresy whichlooked in the direction of national intellectual independence andnational moral union and good faith. 

IV

MEANS OF INDIVIDUAL EMANCIPATION

We are now in a position to define more clearly just how the Americanindividual can assert his independence, and how in asserting hisindependence he can contribute to American national fulfillment. Hecannot make any effective advance towards national fulfillment merely byeducating himself and his fellow-countrymen as individuals to a higherintellectual and moral level, because an essential condition of reallyedifying individual education is the gradual process of collectiveeducation by means of collective action and formative collectivediscipline. On the other hand, this task of collective education is farfrom being complete in itself. It necessarily makes far greater demandsupon the individual than does a system of comparative collectiveirresponsibility. It implies the selection of peculiarly competent, energetic, and responsible individuals to perform the peculiarlydifficult and exacting parts in a socially constructive drama; and itimplies, as a necessary condition of such leadership, a progressivelyhigher standard of individual training and achievement, unofficial aswell as official, throughout the whole community. The process ofeducating men of moral and intellectual stature sufficient for theperformance of important constructive work cannot be disentangled fromthe process of national fulfillment by means of intelligent collectiveaction. American nationality will never be fulfilled except under theleadership of such men; and the American nation will never obtain thenecessary leadership unless it seeks seriously the redemption of itsnational responsibility. 

Such being the situation in general, how can the duty and theopportunity of the individual at the present time best be defined? Is heobliged to sit down and wait until the edifying, economic, political, and social transformation has taken place? Or can he by his ownimmediate behavior do something effectual both to obtain individualemancipation and to accelerate the desirable process of socialreconstruction? This question has already been partially answered by thebetter American individual; and it is, I believe, being answered in theright way. The means which he is taking to reach a more desirablecondition of individual independence, and inferentially to add a littlesomething to the process of national fulfillment, consist primarily andchiefly in a thoroughly zealous and competent performance of his ownparticular job; and in taking this means of emancipation and fulfillmenthe is both building better and destroying better than he knows. 

The last generation of Americans has taken a better method of assertingtheir individual independence than that practiced by the heretics of theMiddle Period. Those who were able to gain leadership in business andpolitics sought to justify their success by building up elaborateindustrial and political organizations which gave themselves and theirsuccessors peculiar individual opportunities. On the other hand, the menof more specifically intellectual interests tacitly abandoned theNewer-Worldliness of their predecessors and began unconsciously butintelligently to seek the attainment of some excellence in theperformance of their own special work. In almost every case theydiscovered that the first step in the acquisition of the betterstandards of achievement was to go abroad. If their interests werescholarly or scientific, they were likely to matriculate at one of theGerman universities for the sake of studying under some eminentspecialist. If they were painters, sculptors, or architects, theyflocked to Paris, as the best available source of technical instructionin the arts. Wherever the better schools were supposed to be, there theAmerican pupils gathered; and the consequence was during the lastquarter of the nineteenth century a steady and considerable improvementin the standard of special work and the American schools of specialdiscipline. In this way there was domesticated a necessary condition andvehicle of the liberation and assertion of American individuality. 

A similar transformation has been taking place in the technical aspectsof American industry. In this field the individual has not been obligedto make his own opportunities to the same extent as in business, politics, and the arts. The opportunities were made for him by theindustrial development of the country. Efficient special work soonbecame absolutely necessary in the various branches of manufacture, inmining, and in the business of transportation; and in the beginning itwas frequently necessary to import from abroad expert specialists. Thetechnical schools of the country were wholly inadequate to supply thedemand either for the quantity or the quality of special work needed. When, for instance, the construction of railroads first began, the onlygood engineering school in the country was West Point, and theconsequence was that many army officers became railroad engineers. Butlittle by little the amount and the standard of technical instructionimproved; while at the same time the greater industrial organizationsthemselves trained their younger employees with ever increasingefficiency. Of late years even farming has become an occupation in whichspecial knowledge is supposed to have certain advantages. In every kindof practical work specialization, founded on a more or less arduouscourse of preparation, is coming to prevail; and in this wayindividuals, possessing the advantages of the necessary gifts anddiscipline, are obtaining definite and stimulating opportunities forpersonal efficiency and independence. 

It would be a grave mistake to conclude, however, that the battle isalready won--that the individual has already obtained in any departmentof practical or intellectual work sufficient personal independence orsufficiently edifying opportunities. The comparatively zealous andcompetent individual performer does not, of course, feel so much of analien in his social surroundings as he did a generation or two ago. Hecan usually obtain a certain independence of position, a certain amountof intelligent and formative appreciation, and a sufficientlysubstantial measure of reward. But he has still much to contend againstin his social, economic, and intellectual environment. His independenceis precarious. In some cases it is won with too little effort. In othercases it can be maintained only at too great a cost. His rewards, ifsubstantial, can be obtained as readily by sacrificing the integrity ofhis work as by remaining faithful thereto. The society in which helives, and which gives him his encouragement and support, has thelimitations of a clique. Its encouragement is too conscious; its supporttoo willful. Beyond a certain point its encouragement becomes indeedrelaxing rather than stimulating, and the aspiring individual is placedin the situation of having most to fear from the inhabitants of his ownhousehold. His intellectual and moral environment is lukewarm. He isencouraged to be an individual, but not too much of an individual. He isencouraged to do good work, but not to do always and uncompromisinglyhis best work. He is trusted, but he is not trusted enough. He believesin himself, but he does not believe as much in himself and in hismission as his own highest achievement demands. He is not sufficientlyempowered by the idea that just in so far as he does his best work, andonly his best work, he is contributing most to national as well aspersonal fulfillment. 

What the better American individual particularly needs, then, is acompleter faith in his own individual purpose and power--a clearerunderstanding of his own individual opportunities. He needs to do whathe has been doing, only more so, and with the conviction that thereby heis becoming not less but more of an American. His patriotism, instead ofbeing something apart from his special work, should be absolutelyidentified therewith, because no matter how much the eminence of hispersonal achievement may temporarily divide him from hisfellow-countrymen, he is, by attaining to such an eminence, helping inthe most effectual possible way to build the only fitting habitation fora sincere democracy. He is to make his contribution to individualimprovement primarily by making himself more of an individual. Theindividual as well as the nation must be educated and "uplifted" chieflyby what the individual can do for himself. Education, like charity, should begin at home. 

An individual can, then, best serve the cause of American individualityby effectually accomplishing his own individual emancipation--that is, by doing his own special work with ability, energy, disinterestedness, and excellence. The scope of the individual's opportunities at any onetime will depend largely upon society, but whatever they amount to, theindividual has no excuse for not making the most of them. Before he canbe of any service to his fellows, he must mold himself into thecondition and habit of being a good instrument. On this point there canbe no compromise. Every American who has the opportunity of doingfaithful and fearless work, and who proves faithless to it, belongs tothe perfect type of the individual anti-democrat. By cheapening his ownpersonality he has cheapened the one constituent of the national lifeover which he can exercise most effectual control; and thereafter, nomatter how superficially patriotic and well-intentioned he may be, hiswords and his actions are tainted and are in some measure corrupting intheir social effect. 

A question will, however, immediately arise as to the nature of thisdesirable individual excellence. It is all very well to say that a manshould do his work competently, faithfully, and fearlessly, but how arewe to define the standard of excellence? When a man is seeking to do hisbest, how shall he go about it? Success in any one of these individualpursuits demands that the individual make some sort of a personalimpression. He must seek according to the nature of the occupation amore or less numerous popular following. The excellence of a painter'swork does not count unless he can find at least a small group of patronswho will admire and buy it. The most competent architect can do nothingfor himself or for other people unless he attracts clients who willbuild his paper houses. The playwright needs even a larger following. Ifhis plays are to be produced, he must manage to amuse and to interestthousands of people. And the politician most of all depends upon anumerous and faithful body of admirers. Of what avail would hisindependence and competence be in case there were nobody to accept hisleadership? It is not enough, consequently, to assert that theindividual must emancipate himself by means of excellent anddisinterested work. His emancipation has no meaning, his career as anindividual no power, except with the support of a larger or smallerfollowing. Admitting the desirability of excellent work, what kind ofworkmanlike excellence will make the individual not merely independentand incorruptible, but powerful? In what way and to what end shall heuse the instrument, which he is to forge and temper, for his ownindividual benefit and hence for that of society?

These questions involve a real difficulty, and before we are throughthey must assuredly be answered; but they are raised at the presentstage of the discussion for the purpose of explicitly putting them asiderather than for the purpose of answering them. The individualinstruments must assuredly be forged and tempered to some good use, butbefore we discuss their employment let us be certain of the instrumentsthemselves. Whatever that employment may be and however much of afollowing its attainment may demand, the instrument must at any rate bethoroughly well made, and in the beginning it is necessary to insistupon merely instrumental excellence, because the American habit andtradition is to estimate excellence almost entirely by results. If theindividual will only obtain his following, there need be no closescrutiny as to his methods. The admirable architect is he who designsan admirably large number of buildings. The admirable playwright is hewho by whatever means makes the hearts of his numerous audiencespalpitate. The admirable politician is he who succeeds somehow or anyhowin gaining the largest area of popular confidence. This tradition is themost insidious enemy of American individual independence andfulfillment. Instead of declaring, as most Americans do, that a man may, if he can, do good work, but that he _must_ create a following, weshould declare that a man may, if he can, obtain a following, but thathe _must_ do good work. When he has done good work, he may not have doneall that is required of him; but if he fails to do good work, nothingelse counts. The individual democrat who has had the chance and who hasfailed in that essential respect is an individual sham, no matter howmuch of a shadow his figure casts upon the social landscape. 

The good work which for his own benefit the individual is required todo, means primarily technically competent work. The man who hasthoroughly mastered the knowledge and the craft essential to his ownspecial occupation is by way of being the well-forged and well-temperedinstrument. Little by little there have been developed in relation toall the liberal arts and occupations certain tested and approvedtechnical methods. The individual who proposes to occupy himself withany one of these arts must first master the foundation of knowledge, offormal traditions, and of manual practice upon which the superstructureis based. The danger that a part of this fund of technical knowledge andpractice may at any particular time be superannuated must be admitted;but the validity of the general rule is not affected thereby. The mostuseful and effective dissenters are those who were in the beginningchildren of the Faith. The individual who is too weak to assert himselfwith the help of an established technical tradition is assuredly tooweak to assert himself without it. The authoritative technical traditionassociated with any one of the arts of civilization is merely the netresult of the accumulated experience of mankind in a given region. Thatexperience may or may not have been exhaustive or adequately defined;but in any event its mastery by the individual is merely a matter ofpersonal and social economy. It helps to prevent the individual fromidentifying his whole personal career with unnecessary mistakes. Itprovides him with the most natural and serviceable vehicle forself-expression. It supplies him with a language which reduces to thelowest possible terms the inevitable chances of misunderstanding. It issociety's nearest approach to an authentic standard in relation to theliberal arts and occupations; and just so far as it is authentic societyis justified in imposing it on the individual. 

The perfect type of authoritative technical methods are those whichprevail among scientific men in respect to scientific work. No scientistas such has anything to gain by the use of inferior methods or by theproduction of inferior work. There is only one standard for allscientific investigators--the highest standard; and so far as a manfalls below that standard his inferiority is immediately reflected inhis reputation. Some scientists make, of course, small contributions tothe increase of knowledge, and some make comparatively largecontributions; but just in so far as a man makes any contribution atall, it is a real contribution, and nothing makes it real but the factthat it is recognized. In the Hall of Science exhibitors do not gettheir work hung upon the line because it tickles the public taste, orbecause it is "uplifting, " or because the jury is kindly and wishes togive the exhibitor a chance to earn a little second-rate reputation. Thesame standard is applied to everybody, and the jury is incorruptible. The exhibit is nothing if not true, or by way of becoming or beingrecognized as true. 

A technical standard in any one of the liberal or practical arts cannotbe applied as rigorously as can the standard of scientific truth, because the standard itself is not so authentic. In all these arts manydifferences of opinion exist among masters as to the methods and formswhich should be authoritative; and in so far as such is the case, theindividual must be allowed to make many apparently arbitrary personalchoices. The fact that a man has such choices to make is thecircumstance which most clearly distinguishes the practice of an artfrom that of a science, but this circumstance, instead of being anexcuse for technical irresponsibility or mere eclecticism, should, onthe contrary, stimulate the individual more completely to justify hischoice. In his work he is fighting the battle not merely of his ownpersonal career, but of a method, of a style, of an idea, or of anideal. The practice of the several arts need not suffer from diversityof standard, provided the several separate standards are themselvesincorruptible. In all the arts--and by the arts I mean all disinterestedand liberal practical occupations--the difficulty is not thatsufficiently authoritative standards do not exist, but that they are notapplied. The standard which is applied is merely that of thegood-enough. The juries are either too kindly or too lax or too muchcorrupted by the nature of their own work. They are prevented from beingincorruptible about the work of other people by a sub-consciousapprehension of the fate of their own performances--in case similarstandards were applied to themselves. Just in so far as the second-rateperformer is allowed to acquire any standing, he inevitably enters intoa conspiracy with his fellows to discourage exhibitions of genuine andconsiderable excellence, and, of course, to a certain extent hesucceeds. By the waste which he encourages of good human appreciation, by the confusion which he introduces into the popular criticalstandards, he helps to effect a popular discrimination against anygenuine superiority of achievement. 

Individual independence and fulfillment is conditioned on the technicalexcellence of the individual's work, because the most authentic standardis for the time being constituted by excellence of this kind. Anauthentic standard must be based either upon acquired knowledge or anaccepted ideal. Americans have no popularly accepted ideals which areanything but an embarrassment to the aspiring individual. In the courseof time some such ideals may be domesticated--in which case theconditions of individual excellence would be changed; but we are dealingwith the present and not with the future. Under current conditions theonly authentic standard must be based, not upon the social influence ofthe work, but upon its quality; and a standard of this kind, while itfalls short of being complete, must always persist as one indispensablecondition of final excellence. The whole body of acquired technicalexperience and practice has precisely the same authority as any otherbody of knowledge. The respect it demands is similar to the respectdemanded by science in all its forms. In this particular case thescience is neither complete nor entirely trustworthy, but it issufficiently complete and trustworthy for the individual's purpose, andcan be ignored only at the price of waste, misunderstanding, and partialinefficiency and sterility. 

A standard of uncompromising technical excellence contains, however, forthe purpose of this argument, a larger meaning than that which isusually attached to the phrase. A technically competent performance isordinarily supposed to mean one which displays a high degree of manualdexterity; and a man who has acquired such a degree of dexterity is alsosupposed to be the victim of his own mastery. No doubt such isfrequently the case; but in the present meaning the thoroughly competentindividual workman becomes necessarily very much more of an individualthan any man can be who is merely the creature of his own technicalfacility and preoccupation. I have used the word art not in the sensemerely of fine art, but in the sense of all liberal and disinterestedpractical work; and the excellent performance of that work demandscertain qualifications which are common to all the arts as well aspeculiar to the methods and materials of certain particular arts andcrafts. These qualifications are both moral and intellectual. Theyrequire that no one shall be admitted to the ranks of thoroughlycompetent performers until he is morally and intellectually, as well asscientifically and manually, equipped for excellent work, and theseappropriate moral and intellectual standards should be applied asincorruptibly as those born of specific technical practices. 

A craftsman whose merits do not go beyond technical facility is probablydeficient in both the intellectual and moral qualities essential to goodwork. The rule cannot be rigorously applied, because the boundariesbetween high technical proficiency and some very special examples ofgenuine mastery are often very indistinct. Still, the majority ofcraftsmen who are nothing more than, manually dexterous are rarelyeither sincere or disinterested in their personal attitude towards theiroccupation. They have not made themselves the sort of moral instrumentwhich is capable of eminent achievement, and whenever unmistakableexamples of such a lack of sincerity and conviction are distinguished, they should in the interest of a complete standard of special excellencemeet with the same reprobation as would manual incompetence. It mustnot be inferred, however, that the standard of moral judgment applied tothe individual in the performance of his particular work is identicalwith a comprehensive standard of moral practice. A man may be anacceptable individual instrument in the service of certain of the arts, even though he be in some other respects a tolerably objectionableperson. A single-minded and disinterested attempt to obtain mastery ofany particular occupation may in specific instances force a man toneglect certain admirable and in other relations essential qualities. Hemay be a faithless husband, a treacherous friend, a sturdy liar, or aprofessional bankrupt, without necessarily interfering with theexcellent performance of his special job. A man who breaks a road toindividual distinction by such questionable means may always be tainted;but he is a better public servant than would be some comparativelyimpeccable nonentity. It all depends on the nature and the requirementsof the particular task, and the extent to which a man has really madesacrifices in order to accomplish it. There are many special jobs whichabsolutely demand scrupulous veracity, loyalty in a man's personalrelations, or financial integrity. The politician who ruins his careerin climbing down a waterspout, or the engineer who prevents hisemployers from trusting his judgment and conscience in money matters, cannot plead in extenuation any other sort of instrumental excellence. They have deserved to fail, because they have trifled with their job;and it may be added that serious moral delinquencies are usually gravehindrances to a man's individual efficiency. 

From the intellectual point of view also technical competence meanssomething more than manual proficiency. Just as the master must possessthose moral qualities essential to the integrity of his work, so he mustpossess the corresponding intellectual qualities. All the liberal artsrequire, as a condition of mastery, a certain specific and considerablepower of intelligence; and this power of intelligence is to be sharplydistinguished from all-round intellectual ability. From our presentpoint of view its only necessary application concerns the problems of aman's special occupation. Every special performer needs the power ofcriticising the quality and the subject-matter of his own work. Unlesshe has great gifts or happens to be brought up and trained underpeculiarly propitious conditions, his first attempts to practice hisart will necessarily be experimental. He will be sure to commit manymistakes, not merely in the choice of alternative methods and theselection of his subject-matter, but in the extent to which hepersonally can approve or disapprove of his own achievements. Thethoroughly competent performer must at least possess the intellectualpower of profiting from this experience. A candid consideration of hisown experiments must guide him in the selection of the better methods, in the discrimination of the more appropriate subject-matter, in theavoidance of his own peculiar failings, and in the cultivation of hisown peculiar strength. The technical career of the master is up to acertain point always a matter of growth. The technical career of thesecond-rate man is always a matter of degeneration or at best ofrepetition. The former brings with it its own salient and special formof enlightenment based upon the intellectual power to criticise his ownexperience and the moral power to act on his own acquired insight. Tothis extent he becomes more of a man by the very process of becomingmore of a master. 

The intellectual power required to criticise one's own experience with aformative result will of course vary considerably in differentoccupations. Technical mastery of the occupation of playwriting, criticism, or statesmanship, will require more specifically intellectualqualities than will be demanded by the competent musician or painter. But no matter how much intelligence may be needed, the way in which itshould be used remains the same. Mere industry, aspiration, or a fluidrun of ideas make as meager an equipment for a politician, aphilanthropist, or a critic as they would for an architect; andabsolutely the most dangerous mistake which an individual can make isthat of confusing admirable intentions expressed in some inferior mannerwith genuine excellence of achievement. If such men succeed, they arecorrupting in their influence. If they fail, they learn nothing fromtheir failure, because they are always charging up to the public, instead of to themselves, the responsibility for their inferiority. 

The conclusion is that at the present time an individual American'sintentions and opinions are of less importance than his power of givingthem excellent and efficient expression. What the individual can do isto make himself a better instrument for the practice of someserviceable art; and by so doing he can scarcely avoid becoming also abetter instrument for the fulfillment of the American national Promise. To be sure, the American national Promise demands for its fulfillmentsomething more than efficient and excellent individual instruments. Itdemands, or will eventually demand, that these individuals shall loveand wish to serve their fellow-countrymen, and it will demandspecifically that in the service of their fellow-countrymen, they shallreorganize their country's economic, political, and social institutionsand ideas. Just how the making of competent individual instruments willof its own force assist the process of national reconstruction, we shallconsider presently; but the first truth to drive home is that allpolitical and social reorganization is a delusion, unless certainindividuals, capable of edifying practical leadership, have beendisciplined and trained; and such individuals must always and in somemeasure be a product of self-discipline. While not only admitting butproclaiming that the processes of individual and social improvement aremutually dependent, it is equally true that the initiative cannot beleft to collective action. The individual must begin and carry as far ashe can the work of his own emancipation; and for the present he has anexcuse for being tolerably unscrupulous in so doing. By the successfulassertion of his own claim to individual distinction and eminence, he isdoing more to revolutionize and reconstruct the American democracy thancan a regiment of professional revolutionists and reformers. 

Professional socialists may cherish the notion that their battle is wonas soon as they can secure a permanent popular majority in favor of asocialistic policy; but the constructive national democrat cannotlogically accept such a comfortable illusion. The action of a majoritycomposed of the ordinary type of convinced socialists could and would ina few years do more to make socialism impossible than could beaccomplished by the best and most prolonged efforts of a majority ofmalignant anti-socialists. The first French republicans made by theirbehavior another republic out of the question in France for almost sixtyyears; and the second republican majority did not do so very muchbetter. When the republic came in France it was founded by men who werenot theoretical democrats, but who understood that a republic was forthe time being the kind of government best adapted to the nationalFrench interest. These theoretical monarchists, but practicalrepublicans, were for the most part more able, more patriotic, andhigher-minded men than the convinced republicans; and in all probabilitya third republic, started without their coöperation, would also haveended in a dictatorship. Any substantial advance toward socialreorganization will in the same way be forced by considerations ofpublic welfare on a majority of theoretical anti-socialists, because itis among this class that the most competent and best disciplinedindividuals are usually to be found. The intellectual and moral abilityrequired, not merely to conceive, but to realize a policy of socialreorganization, is far higher than the ability to carry on an ordinarydemocratic government. When such a standard of individual competence hasbeen attained by a sufficient number of individuals and is applied toeconomic and social questions, some attempt at social reorganization isbound to be the result, --assuming, of course, the constructive relationalready admitted between democracy and the social problem. 

The strength and the weakness of the existing economic and social systemconsist, as we have observed, in the fact that it is based upon therealities of contemporary human nature. It is the issue of atime-honored tradition, an intense personal interest, and a method oflife so habitual that it has become almost instinctive. It cannot besuccessfully attacked by any body of hostile opinion, unless such a bodyof opinion is based upon a more salient individual and social interestand a more intense and vital method of life. The only alternativeinterest capable of putting up a sufficiently vigorous attack andpushing home an occasional victory is the interest of the individual inhis own personal independence and fulfillment--an interest which, as wehave seen, can only issue from integrity and excellence of individualachievement. An interest of this kind is bound in its social influenceto make for social reorganization, because such reorganization is insome measure a condition and accompaniment of its own self-expression;and the strength of its position and the superiority of its weapons areso decisive that they should gradually force the existing system to giveway. The defenses of that system have vulnerable points; and itsdefenders are disunited except in one respect. They would be able torepel any attack delivered along their whole line; but their bindinginterest is selfish and tends under certain conditions to divide themone from another without bestowing on the divided individuals the energyof independence and self-possession. Their position can be attacked atits weaker points, not only without meeting with combined resistance, but even with the assistance of some of their theoretical allies. Manyconvinced supporters of the existing order are men of superior merit, who are really fighting against their own better individual interests;and they need only to taste the exhilaration of freedom in order betterto understand its necessary social and economical conditions. Others, although men of inferior achievement, are patriotic and well-intentionedin feeling; and they may little by little be brought to believe thatpatriotism in a democracy demands the sacrifice of selfish interests andthe regeneration of individual rights. Men of this stamp can be madewilling prisoners by able and aggressive leaders whose achievements havegiven them personal authority and whose practical programme is basedupon a sound knowledge of the necessary limits of immediate nationalaction. The disinterested and competent individual is formed forconstructive leadership, just as the less competent and independent, butwell-intentioned, individual is formed more or less faithfully to followon behind. Such leadership, in a country whose traditions and ideals aresincerely democratic, can scarcely go astray. 

V

CONSTRUCTIVE INDIVIDUALISM

The preceding section was concluded with a statement, which the majorityof its readers will find extremely questionable and which assuredlydemands some further explanation. Suppose it to be admitted thatindividual Americans do seek the increase of their individuality bycompetent and disinterested special work. In what way will such work andthe sort of individuality thereby developed exercise a decisiveinfluence on behalf of social amelioration? We have already expresslydenied that a desire to succor their fellow-countrymen or an ideal ofsocial reorganization is at the present time a necessary ingredient inthe make-up of these formative individuals. Their individual excellencehas been defined exclusively in terms of high but special technicalcompetence; and the manner in which these varied and frequentlyantagonistic individual performers are to coöperate towards sociallyconstructive results must still remain a little hazy. How are theseeminent specialists, each of whom is admittedly pursuing unscrupulouslyhis own special purpose, to be made serviceable in a coherent nationaldemocratic organization? How, indeed, are these specialists to get atthe public whom they are supposed to lead? Many very competentcontemporary Americans might claim that the real difficulty in relationto the social influence of the expert specialist has been sedulouslyevaded. The admirably competent individual cannot exercise anyconstructive social influence, unless he becomes popular; and thecurrent American standards being what they are, how can an individualbecome popular without more or less insidious and baleful compromises?The gulf between individual excellence and effective popular influencestill remains to be bridged; and until it is bridged, an essential stageis lacking in the transition from an individually formative result toone that is also socially formative. 

Undoubtedly, a gulf does exist in the country between individualexcellence and effective popular influence. Many excellent specialistsexercise a very small amount of influence, and many individuals whoexercise apparently a great deal of influence are conspicuously lackingin any kind of excellence. The responsibility for this condition isusually fastened upon the Philistine American public, which refuses torecognize genuine eminence and which showers rewards upon anysecond-rate performer who tickles its tastes and prejudices. But it isat least worth inquiring whether the responsibility should not befastened, not upon the followers, but upon the supposed leaders. TheAmerican people are what the circumstances, the traditional leadership, and the interests of American life have made them. They cannot beexpected to be any better than they are, until they have beensufficiently shown the way; and they cannot be blamed for being as badas they are, until it is proved that they have deliberately rejectedbetter leadership. No such proof has ever been offered. 

Some disgruntled Americans talk as if in a democracy the path of theaspiring individual should be made peculiarly safe and easy. As soon asany young man appears whose ideals are perched a little higher thanthose of his neighbors, and who has acquired some knack of performance, he should apparently be immediately taken at his own valuation andloaded with rewards and opportunities. The public should take off itshat and ask him humbly to step into the limelight and show himself offfor the popular edification. He should not be obliged to make himselfinteresting to the public. They should immediately make themselvesinterested in him, and bolt whatever he chooses to offer them as thevery meat and wine of the mind. But surely one does not need to urgevery emphatically that popularity won upon such easy terms would bedemoralizing to any but very highly gifted and very cool-headed men. TheAmerican people are absolutely right in insisting that an aspirant forpopular eminence shall be compelled to make himself interesting to them, and shall not be welcomed as a fountain of excellence and enlightenmentuntil he has found some means of forcing his meat and his wine downtheir reluctant throats. And if the aspiring individual accepts thiscondition as tantamount to an order that he must haul down the flag ofhis own individual purpose in order to obtain popular appreciation andreward, it is he who is unworthy to lead, not they who are unworthy ofbeing led. The problem and business of his life is precisely that ofkeeping his flag flying at any personal cost or sacrifice; and if hisown particular purpose demands that his flying flag shall be loyallysaluted, it is his own business also to see that his flag is well worthyof a popular salutation. In occasional instances these two aspects of aspecial performer's business may prove to be incompatible. Every realadventure must be attended by risks. Every real battle involves acertain number of casualties. But better the risk and the wounded andthe dead than sham battles and unearned victories. 

There is only one way in which popular standards and preferences can beimproved. The men whose standards are higher must learn to express theirbetter message in a popularly interesting manner. The people will neverbe converted to the appreciation of excellent special performances byargumentation, reproaches, lectures, associations, or persuasion. Theywill rally to the good thing, only because the good thing has been madeto look good to them; and so far as individual Americans are not capableof making their good things look good to a sufficient number of theirfellow-countrymen, they will on the whole deserve any neglect from whichthey may suffer. They themselves constitute the only efficient source ofreally formative education. In so far as a public is lacking, a publicmust be created. They must mold their followers after their ownlikeness--as all aspirants after the higher individual eminence havealways been obliged to do. 

The manner in which the result is to be brought about may be traced byconsidering the case of the contemporary American architect--a casewhich is typical because, while popular architectural preferences areinferior, the very existence of the architect depends upon his abilityto please a considerable number of clients. The average well-trainedarchitect in good standing meets this situation by designing as well ashe can, consistent with the building-up an abundant and lucrativepractice. There are doubtless certain things which he would not do evento get or keep a job; but on the whole it is not unfair to say that hisfirst object is to get and to keep the job, and his second to do goodwork. The consequence is that, in compromising the integrity of hiswork, he necessarily builds his own practice upon a shifting foundation. His work belongs to the well-populated class of the good-enough. It canhave little distinctive excellence; and it cannot, by its peculiar forceand quality, attract a clientele. Presumably, it has the merit ofsatisfying prevailing tastes; but the architect, who is designing onlyas well as popular tastes will permit, suffers under one seriousdisadvantage. There are hundreds of his associates who can do it just aswell; and he is necessarily obliged to face demoralizing competition. Inasmuch as it is not his work itself that counts, he is obliged tobuild up his clientele by other means. He is obliged to make himselfpersonally popular, to seek social influence and private "pulls"; andhis whole life becomes that of a man who is selling his personalityinstead of fulfilling it. His relations with his clients suffer from thesame general condition. They have come to him, not because they areparticularly attracted by his work and believe in it, but, as a rule, because of some accidental and arbitrary reason. His position, consequently, is lacking in independence and authority. He has notenough personal prestige as a designer to insist upon having his own wayin all essential matters. He tends to become too much of an agent, employed for the purpose of carrying out another man's wishes, insteadof a professional expert, whose employer trusts his judgment and leansloyally on his advice. 

Take, on the other hand, the case of the exceptional architect whoinsists upon doing his very best. Assuming sufficient ability andtraining, the work of the man who does his very best is much more likelyto possess some quality of individual merit, which more or less sharplydistinguishes it from that of other architects. He has a monopoly of hisown peculiar qualities. Such merit may not be noticed by many people;but it will probably be noticed by a few. The few who are attracted willreceive a more than usually vivid impression. They will talk, and beginto create a little current of public opinion favorable to the designer. The new clients who come to him will be influenced either by theirappreciation of the actual merit of the work or by this approving bodyof opinion. They will come, that is, because they want _him_ and believein his work. His own personal position, consequently, becomes much moreindependent and authoritative than is usually the case. He is much lesslikely to be embarrassed by ignorant and irrelevant interference. He cancontinue to turn out designs genuinely expressive of his own individualpurpose. If he be an intelligent as well as a sincere and gifteddesigner, his work will, up to a certain point, grow in distinction andindividuality; and as good or better examples of it become morenumerous, it will attract and hold an increasing body of approvingopinion. The designer will in this way have gradually created his ownspecial public. He will be molding and informing the architectural tasteand preference of his admirers. Without in any way compromising his ownstandards, he will have brought himself into a constructive relationwith a part at least of the public, and the effect of his work will soonextend beyond the sphere of his own personal clientele. In so far as hehas succeeded in popularizing a better quality of architectural work, hewould be by way of strengthening the hands of all of his associates whowere standing for similar ideals and methods. 

It would be absurd to claim that every excellent and competent specialperformer who sticks incorruptibly to his individual purpose andstandard can succeed in creating a special public, molded somewhat byhis personal influence. The ability to succeed is not given toeverybody. It cannot always be obtained by sincere industry and able andsingle-minded work. The qualities needed in addition to those mentionedwill vary in different occupations and according to the accidentalcircumstances of different cases; but they are not always the qualitieswhich a man can acquire. Men will fail who have deserved to succeed andwho might have succeeded with a little more tenacity or under slightlymore favorable conditions. Men who have deserved to fail will succeedbecause of certain collateral but partly irrelevant merits--just as anarchitect may succeed who is ingenious about making his clients' housescomfortable and building them cheap. In a thousand different ways anindividual enterprise, conceived and conducted with faith and ability, may prove to be abortive. Moreover, the sacrifices necessary to successare usually genuine sacrifices. The architect who wishes to build up areally loyal following by really good work must deliberately reject manypossible jobs; and he must frequently spend upon the accepted jobs moremoney than is profitable. But the foregoing is merely tantamount tosaying, as we have said, that the adventure involves a real risk. Aresolute, intelligent man undertakes a doubtful and difficultenterprise, not because it is sure to succeed, but because if itsucceeds, it is worth the risk and the cost, and such is the case withthe contemporary American adventurer. The individual independence, appreciation, and fulfillment which he secures in the event of successare assuredly worth a harder and a more dangerous fight than the one bywhich frequently he is confronted. In any particular case a man, as wehave admitted, may put up a good fight without securing the fruits ofvictory, and his adventure may end, not merely in defeat, but inself-humiliation. But if any general tendency exists to shirk, or toback down, or to place the responsibility for personal ineptitude on thepublic, it means, not that the fight was hopeless, but that the warriorswere lacking in the necessary will and ability. 

The case of the statesman, the man of letters, the philanthropist, orthe reformer does not differ essentially from that of the architect. They may need for their particular purposes a larger or a smallerpopular following, a larger or smaller amount of moral courage, and amore or less peculiar kind of intellectual efficiency; but whereverthere is any bridge to be built between their own purposes and standardsand those of the public, they must depend chiefly upon their ownresources for its construction. The best that society can do to assistthem at present is to establish good schools of preliminary instruction. For the rest it is the particular business of the exceptional individualto impose himself on the public; and the necessity he is under ofcreating his own following may prove to be helpful to him as his ownexceptional achievements are to his followers. The fact that he isobliged to make a public instead of finding one ready-made, or insteadof being able by the subsidy of a prince to dispense with one--thisnecessity will in the long run tend to keep his work vital and human. The danger which every peculiarly able individual specialist runs isthat of overestimating the value of his own purpose and achievements, and so of establishing a false and delusive relation between his ownworld and the larger world of human affairs and interests. Such a dangercannot be properly checked by the conscious moral and intellectualeducation of the individual, because when he is filled too full ofamiable intentions and ideas, he is by way of attenuating his individualimpulse and power. But the individual who is forced to create his ownpublic is forced also to make his own special work attractive to apublic; and when he succeeds in accomplishing this result withouthauling down his personal flag, his work tends to take on a more normaland human character. 

It tends, that is, to be socially as well as individually formative. Thepeculiarly competent individual is obliged to accept theresponsibilities of leadership with its privileges and fruits. There isno escape from the circle by which he finds himself surrounded. Hecannot obtain the opportunities, the authority, and the independencewhich he needs for his own individual fulfillment, unless he builds up afollowing; and he cannot build up a secure personal following withoutmaking his peculiar performances appeal to some general human interest. The larger and more general the interest he can arouse, the more secureand the more remunerative his personal independence becomes. It by nomeans necessarily follows that he will increase his following byincreasing the excellence of his work, or that he will not frequentlyfind it difficult to keep his following without allowing his work todeteriorate. No formula, reconciling the individual and the popularinterest, can be devised which will work automatically. Thereconciliation must always remain a matter of victorious individual ornational contrivance. But it is none the less true that the chance offruitful reconciliation always exists, and in a democracy it shouldexist under peculiarly wholesome conditions. The essential nature of ademocracy compels it to insist that individual power of all kinds, political, economic, or intellectual, shall not be perversely andirresponsibly exercised. The individual democrat is obliged no less toinsist in his own interest that the responsible exercise of power shallnot be considered equivalent to individual mediocrity and dependence. These two demands will often conflict; but the vitality of a democracyhangs upon its ability to keep both of them vigorous and assertive. Justin so far as individual democrats find ways of asserting theirindependence in the very act of redeeming their responsibility, thesocial body of which they form a part is marching toward the goal ofhuman betterment. 

It cannot be claimed, however, that the foregoing account of therelation between the individual and a nationalized democracy is even yetentirely satisfactory. No relation can be satisfactory which impliessuch a vast amount of individual suffering and defeat and such a hugewaste of social and individual effort. The relation is only assatisfactory as it can be made under the circumstances. The individualcannot be immediately transformed by individual purpose and action intoa consummate social type, any more than society can be immediatelytransformed by purposive national action into a consummate residence forthe individual. In both cases amelioration is a matter of intelligentexperimental contrivance based upon the nature of immediate conditionsand equipped with every available resource and weapon. In both casesthese experiments must be indefinitely continued, their lessons candidlylearned, and the succeeding experiments based upon past failures andachievements. Throughout the whole task of experimental educationaladvance the different processes of individual and social ameliorationwill be partly opposed, partly supplementary, and partly parallel; butin so far as any genuine advance is made, the opposition should be lesscostly, and coöperation, if not easier, at least more remunerative. 

The peculiar kind of individual self-assertion which has been outlinedin the foregoing sections of this chapter has been adapted, not toperfect, but to actual moral, social, and intellectual conditions. Forthe present Americans must cultivate competent individual independencesomewhat unscrupulously, because their peculiar democratic tradition hashitherto discouraged and under-valued a genuinely individualisticpractice and ideal. In order to restore the balance, the individual mustemancipate himself at a considerable sacrifice and by somewhat forciblemeans; and to a certain extent he must continue those sacrificesthroughout the whole of his career. He must proclaim and, if able, hemust assert his own leadership, but he must be always somewhat on hisguard against his followers. He must always keep in mind that the veryleadership which is the fruit of his mastery and the condition of hisindependence is also, considering the nature and disposition of hisaverage follower, a dangerous temptation; and while he must not for thatreason scorn popular success, he must always conscientiously reckon itsactual cost. And just because a leader cannot wholly trust himself tohis following, so the followers must always keep a sharp lookout lesttheir leaders be leading them astray. For the kind of leadership whichwe have postulated above is by its very definition and nature liable tobecome perverse and distracting. 

But just in so far as the work of social and individual ameliorationadvances, the condition will be gradually created necessary to completermutual confidence between the few exceptional leaders and the many"plain people. " At present the burden of establishing any genuine meansof communication rests very heavily upon the exceptionally ableindividual. But after a number of exceptionally able individuals haveimposed their own purposes and standards and created a following, theywill have made the task of their successors easier. Higher technicalstandards and more adequate forms of expression will have become betterestablished. The "public" will have learned to expect and to appreciatemore simple and appropriate architectural forms, more sincere andbetter-formed translations of life in books and on the stage, and moreindependent and better equipped political leadership. The "public, " thatis, instead of being as much satisfied as it is at present with cheapforms and standards, will be prepared to assume part of the expense ofestablishing better forms and methods of social intercourse. In this waya future generation of leaders may be enabled to conquer a followingwith a smaller individual expenditure of painful sacrifices and wastedeffort. They can take for granted a generally higher technical andformal tradition, and they themselves will be freed from anover-conscious preoccupation with the methods and the mechanism of theirwork. Their attention will naturally be more than ever concentrated onthe proper discrimination of their subject-matter; and just in so far asthey are competent to create an impression or a following, thatimpression should be more profound and the following more loyal and moreworthy of loyalty. 

Above all, a substantial improvement in the purposes and standards ofindividual self-expression should create a more bracing intellectualatmosphere. Better standards will serve not only as guides but asweapons. In so far as they are embodied in competent performances, theyare bound also to be applied in the critical condemnation of inferiorwork; and the critic himself will assume a much more important practicaljob than he now has. Criticism is a comparatively neglected art amongAmericans, because a sufficient number of people do not care whether andwhen the current practices are really good or bad. The practice ofbetter standards and their appreciation will give the critic both a moresubstantial material for his work and a larger public. It will be hisduty to make the American public conscious of the extent of theindividual successes or failures and the reasons therefor; and in casehis practice improves with that of the other arts, he should become amore important performer, not only because of his better opportunitiesand public, but because of his increase of individual prowess. He shouldnot only be better equipped for the performance of his work and thecreation of a public following, but he should have a more definite andresolute conviction of the importance of his own job. It is the businessof the competent individual as a type to force society to recognize themeaning and the power of his own special purposes. It is the specialbusiness of the critic to make an ever larger portion of the publicconscious of these expressions of individual purpose, of their relationsone to another, of their limitations, and of their promises. He not onlypopularizes and explains for the benefit of a larger public thesubstance and significance of admirable special performance, but heshould in a sense become the standard bearer of the whole movement. 

The function of the critic hereafter will consist in part of carrying onan incessant and relentless warfare on the prevailing Americanintellectual insincerity. He can make little headway unless he issustained by a large volume of less expressly controversial individualintellectual self-expression; but on the other hand, there are manyserious obstructions to any advancing intellectual movement, which heshould and must overthrow. In so doing he has every reason to be moreunscrupulous and aggressive even than his brethren-in-arms. He must stabaway at the gelatinous mass of popular indifference, sentimentality, andcomplacency, even though he seems quite unable to penetrate to the quickand draw blood. For the time the possibility of immediate constructiveachievement in his own special field is comparatively small, and he isthe less responsible for the production of any substantial effect, orthe building up of any following except a handful of free lances likehimself. He need only assure himself of his own competence with his ownpeculiar tools, his own good-humored sincerity, and hisdisinterestedness in the pursuit of his legitimate purposes, in order tofeel fully justified in pushing his strokes home. In all seriouswarfare, people have to be really wounded for some good purpose; and inthis particular fight there may be some chance that not only a goodcause, but the very victim of the blow, may possibly be benefited by itsdelivery. The stabbing of a mass of public opinion into someconsciousness of its active torpor, particularly when many particles ofthe mass are actively torpid because of admirable patrioticintentions, --that is a job which needs sharp weapons, intense personaldevotion, and a positive indifference to consequences. 

Yet if the American national Promise is ever to be fulfilled, a morecongenial and a more interesting task will also await thecritic--meaning by the word "critic" the voice of the specificintellectual interest, the lover of wisdom, the seeker of the truth. Every important human enterprise has its meaning, even though theconduct of the affair demands more than anything else a hard andinextinguishable faith. Such a faith will imply a creed; and itsrealizations will go astray unless the faithful are made conscious ofthe meaning of their performances or failures. The most essential andedifying business of the critic will always consist in building up "apile of better thoughts, " based for the most part upon the truthresident in the lives of their predecessors and contemporaries, but notwithout its outlook toward an immediate and even remote future. Therecan be nothing final about the creed unless there be something finalabout the action and purposes of which it is the expression. It must beconstantly modified in order to define new experiences and renewed inorder to meet unforeseen emergencies. But it should grow, just in so faras the enterprise itself makes new conquests and unfolds new aspects oftruth. Democracy is an enterprise of this kind. It may prove to be themost important moral and social enterprise as yet undertaken by mankind;but it is still a very young enterprise, whose meaning and promise is byno means clearly understood. It is continually meeting unforeseenemergencies and gathering an increasing experience. The fundamental dutyof a critic in a democracy is to see that the results of theseexperiences are not misinterpreted and that the best interpretation isembodied in popular doctrinal form. The critic consequently is not somuch the guide as the lantern which illuminates the path. He may notpretend to know the only way or all the ways; but he should know as muchas can be known about the traveled road. 

Men endowed with high moral gifts and capable of exceptional moralachievements have also their special part to play in the building of anenduring democratic structure. In the account which has been given ofthe means and conditions of democratic fulfillment, the importance ofthis part has been under-estimated; but the under-estimate has beendeliberate. It is very easy and in a sense perfectly true to declarethat democracy needs for its fulfillment a peculiarly high standard ofmoral behavior; and it is even more true to declare that a democraticscheme of moral values reaches its consummate expression in the religionof human brotherhood. Such a religion can be realized only through theloving-kindness which individuals feel toward their fellow-men andparticularly toward their fellow-countrymen; and it is through suchfeelings that the network of mutual loyalties and responsibilities wovenin a democratic nation become radiant and expansive. Whenever anindividual democrat, like Abraham Lincoln, emerges, who succeeds inoffering an example of specific efficiency united with supremekindliness of feeling, he qualifies as a national hero of consummatevalue. But--at present--a profound sense of human brotherhood is nosubstitute for specific efficiency. The men most possessed by intensebrotherly feelings usually fall into an error, as Tolstoy has done, asto the way in which those feelings can be realized. Consummate faithitself is no substitute for good work. Back of any work of moralconversion must come a long and slow process of social reorganizationand individual emancipation; and not until the reorganization has beenpartly accomplished, and the individual released, disciplined andpurified, will the soil be prepared for the crowning work of somedemocratic Saint Francis. 

Hence, in the foregoing account of a possible democratic fulfillment, attention has been concentrated on that indispensable phase of the workwhich can be attained by conscious means. Until this work is measurablyaccomplished no evangelist can do more than convert a few men for a fewyears. But it has been admitted throughout that the task of individualand social regeneration must remain incomplete and impoverished, untilthe conviction and the feeling of human brotherhood enters intopossession of the human spirit. The laborious work of individual andsocial fulfillment may eventually be transfigured by an outburst ofenthusiasm--one which is not the expression of a mood, but which issubstantially the finer flower of an achieved experience and a livingtradition. If such a moment ever arrives, it will be partly the creationof some democratic evangelist--some imitator of Jesus who will reveal tomen the path whereby they may enter into spiritual possession of theirindividual and social achievements, and immeasurably increase them byvirtue of personal regeneration. 

Be it understood, however, that no prophecy of any such consummatemoment has been made. Something of the kind may happen, in case theAmerican or any other democracy seeks patiently and intelligently tomake good a complete and a coherent democratic ideal. For better orworse, democracy cannot be disentangled from an aspiration toward humanperfectibility, and hence from the adoption of measures looking in thedirection of realizing such an aspiration. It may be that the attemptwill not be seriously made, or that, if it is, nothing will come of it. Mr. George Santayana concludes a chapter on "Democracy" in his "Reasonin Society" with the following words: "For such excellence to growgeneral mankind must be notably transformed. If a noble and civilizeddemocracy is to subsist, the common citizen must be something of a saintand something of a hero. We see, therefore, how justly flattering andprofound, and at the same time how ominous, was Montesquieu's sayingthat the principle of democracy is virtue. " The principle of democracy_is_ virtue, and when we consider the condition of contemporarydemocracies, the saying may seem to be more ominous than flattering. Butif a few hundred years from now it seems less ominous, the threat willbe removed in only one way. The common citizen can become something of asaint and something of a hero, not by growing to heroic proportions inhis own person, but by the sincere and enthusiastic imitation of heroesand saints, and whether or not he will ever come to such imitation willdepend upon the ability of his exceptional fellow-countrymen to offerhim acceptable examples of heroism and saintliness. 

INDEX

A

Abolitionism, the good American democratic view of, 49; belief of supporters of, regarding slavery, 78-79; a just estimate of work of, 80-81; perverted conception of democracy held by party of, 80-81, 86; baleful spirit of, inherited by Republicans, and its later effects, 95; was the one practical result of the struggle of American intelligence for emancipation, during the Middle Period, 422; strength and weakness of the intellectual ferment shown by, 423. 

Administrative reform in states, 333 ff. 

"Admirable Crichton, " trait of the English character illustrated by, 14. 

Africans, as proper subjects for colonizing, 259. 

Agricultural community, the Middle West at first primarily a, 62-63; passage from, into an urban and industrial community, 101; the transformation of Great Britain from an, to an industrial community, 234. 

Agricultural laborers, effect of organization of labor on, 396. 

"American Farmer, Letters of an, " 8-9, 10. 

Apprentices to trades, 391. 

Architects, illustration drawn from, of improvement of popular standards, 444-445. 

Aristocracy in British political system, 231-232; loss of ground by Great Britain traceable to, 233-235; resignation of economic responsibility by, a betrayal of the national interest, 234-235. 

Armies, essential and justifiable under present conditions, 256 ff. , 264. 

Arts, technical standard in practice of, 434-435. 

Asiatics, as proper subjects for colonizing, 259. 

Association, necessity of, for nations as well as for individuals, 263-264; the modern nation the best machinery for raising level of human, 284; necessity of, in case of laboring classes, 388. 

Australian ballot, professional politicians uninjured by, 341; question of desirability of, 341-342. 

Austria, policy of Bismarck toward, 248-249. 

Austria-Hungary, effect of disintegration of, on Germany, 253; unstable condition of, renders disarmament impossible, 257; secondary position of, in Europe, and reasons, 311. 

B

Balance of Power, development of doctrine of, 220. 

Bank, National, Hamilton's policy in creating, 39; reasons for hostility of Jacksonian Democrats to, 57; view of, held by Republicans, 57-58; campaign of Jackson and his followers against, 58-59; Whigs' failure in attempt to re-charter, 68. 

Bank examiners, difference between Federal commissions and, 363-364. 

Birth-rate, lowering of, in France, 245. 

Bismarck, Otto von, 8, 242, 256; personal career of, 247; unification of Germany by, 247-249; course of, as Imperial Chancellor, 249 ff. ; inheritance left to German Empire by, in the way of overbearing attitude to domestic and foreign opponents, 251; provoking of Germany's two wars by, was justifiable, 256; quoted on what constitutes the real nation, 265-266. 

"Boss, " the coming of the, 118-121; character and position of the, 122; dealings of, with big corporations, 122-124; his specialized leadership fills a real and permanent need, 124-125; is the unofficial ruler of his community, 125; is the logical outcome of a certain conception of the democratic state, 148-149; method proposed for destroying the, 338-341; Australian ballot and system of direct primaries have no injurious effect on, 341-343. 

Bourbon monarchy, the, 219-220; cause of downfall of, 220. 

Bryan, William J. , 136, 144, 151; particular consideration of, as a reformer, 156 ff. ; special reforms advocated by, 156-158; incoherence in political thinking shown by, 158-159; policy of, toward large corporations, 358. 

Business man, origins of the typical American, 106-108; business regarded as warfare by, 107-108; relation between railroads and the, 109-111; rise of, in Great Britain, and relations with aristocracy, 234-235. 

Butler, Nicholas Murray, quoted, 408. 

C

Cabinet, or executive council, suggested for governors, 338-339. 

Calhoun, John, a leader of the Whigs, 66-67, 79, 82. 

Canada, question of coöperation of, in establishment of a peaceful international system, 303-304; desirability of greater commercial freedom between United States and, 304-305; preparing the way for closer political association, 305-306; lines along which treaty between United States, Great Britain, and, might be made, 306. 

Carnegie, Andrew, 202, 402. 

Catholic Church, as a bond between Western European states, 217; losing battle of, with political authority, 283. 

Central America, opportunity for improving international political conditions in, 303. 

Centralization, nationality and, 272-279; demand for more rather than less, because of growing centralization of American activity, 274-275; increase in, injurious to certain aspects of traditional American democracy, 276; perniciousness of prejudice against, 278-279. 

Chapman, John Jay, work by, cited, 408; quoted, 418. 

Checks and balances, system of, 33, 316; system of, proves especially unsuitable for state governments, 323-324. 

China, questions raised concerning American foreign policy by, 309-310. 

Christianity a common bond between early European states, 217 ff. 

Church, change in function of the, resulting from change in modern nations, 283. 

Cities, relations of state governments to, 347-348; as fields for economically and socially constructive experimentation, 349; home rule in, 348-350; policy of, toward public service corporations, 372-373; measures to be taken against monopolies in, 374. 

City states, Greek and mediæval, 215. 

Civil service reform, 143; disappointing results of, 334-335; causes of partial failure of, 335-337. 

Civil War, a case of a justifiable war, 255-256; as a surgical operation, 269. 

Class discrimination, 129, 191. 

Clay, Henry, Whig doctrine of, 52, 66; reason for failure of ideas of, 69-70; as a believer in compromises, 76; an example of cheapening of intellectual individuality of leaders during Middle Period, 427. 

Cleveland, Grover, 168. 

Colonial expansion, the principle of nationality not hostile to, 259; incompatibility of, for European powers, with aggrandizement at home, 260-262; not a cause of wars, but the contrary, 260-261; question of what are limits of a practicable, 262-263; is accomplishing a work without which a permanent international settlement would be impossible, 263; validity of, even for a democracy, 308; of the United States, 308-310. 

Commerce, question of control of, by state or Federal government, 351-357. 

Commissions, supervision of corporations by, 360-361; the objection to government by, 362; false principle involved in government by, in that commissions make the laws which they administer, 364; public ownership contrasted with government by, 366; the great objection to government by, in its effect on the capable industrial manager, 368. 

Communal state, the mediæval, 215, 216. 

Communities, religious, 283; various brands of socialistic, during American Middle Period, 422. 

Competition, wastes of, lessened by big corporations, 115; restriction of, by labor unions, 127, 386-388; coöperation substituted for, by big corporations, 359. 

Compromise, erected into an ultimate principle by British governing class, 234, 238; in America in the interests of harmony, to be avoided, 269-270. 

Congressional usurpation, danger to American people from, 69. 

Constabulary, state, 344-345. 

Constitution, the Federal, founders of, displayed distrust of democracy, 33-34; despite error of Federalists, has proved an instrument capable of flexible development, 34-35; legal restrictions in, 35; defect of unmodifiability of, 36; on the whole a successful achievement, 36-37; an accomplishment of the leaders of opinion rather than of the body of the people, 38; sanctioning of slavery by, 72; power bestowed on lawyers by, 132-134; immutability of, regarded as a fault in the American system, 200; serious changes in, not to be thought of, at present, 316; in all respects but one is not in need of immediate amendment, 351; distinction made in, between state and inter-state commerce is irrelevant to real facts of industry and trade, 351-352; will in the end have to dispense with the distinction, 356-357. 

Constitutions of states, 119. 

Constitutional Unionists, belief of, concerning slavery, 78; present-day lawyers compared to, 137. 

Corporation lawyers, 136. 

Corporations, growth of big, 110-116; dealings between big, 113-114; fights between, prelude closer agreement, 114; decrease in wastes of competition by, 115; profits of, disproportionate to their services, 115; equivocal position in respect to the law, 115-116; unprecedented power wielded by, 116; political corruption and social disintegration the result of, 117; the political "Boss" and the, 122-124; similarities and dissimilarities of labor unions and, 130-131, 386; agitation against and its varying character, 143; Federal regulation of, advocated by W. J. Bryan, 158; problem of control of, 351 ff. ; interference of state governments with railroad, insurance, and other corporations, 352-355; exclusive Federal control of, an essential to their proper conduct, 355-356; two courses that may be followed in policy of central government toward, 357; W. J. Bryan's suggested policy toward, 358; the Roosevelt-Taft programme, of recognition tempered by regulation, 358-360; tendency of, to substitute coöperation for competition, 359; supervision of, by commissions, 360-361; danger of impairing efficiency of, by depriving them of freedom, 362-363; laws which should be made for, on repeal of Sherman Anti-Trust Law, 364; the proposed remedy for management of, is one more way of shirking the ultimate problem, 367; disposal of question of excessive profits of, 370; state taxation of, one means of control, 370; American municipal policy toward public service corporations, 372-373; the question of public ownership, 375-379 (_see_ Public ownership); necessity for uniformity in taxation of, 385. _See_ Municipal corporations _and_ Public service corporations. 

Council, legislative and administrative, suggested for state governments, 329-330; appointment of an executive council or cabinet by the governor, 338. 

Courts, failure of American criminal and civil, 318; protection of inter-state corporations by Federal, 355-356; decisions of, on labor questions, 394. 

Crèvecoeur, Hector St. John de, quoted, 8-9. 

Criminal justice, failure of American, 318; reform of, by states, 344-345. 

Criminals, treatment of, by states, 345-346. 

Critics and criticism in America, 450-451; broadening of the work of, 451-452. 

Crazier, John B. , quoted, 15-16. 

Cuba, relations between United States and, 303, 308. 

Cumberland Road, the, 67. 

D

Debt, national, Hamilton's belief in good effects of, 40-41. 

Democracy, as represented by Republicans at close of Revolution, 28-29, 30-31; Federalists' antagonism to, 32-33; misfortune of founding national government on distrust of, 33-34; misunderstanding of, as an ideal, in 1786, 34; Hamilton's distrust of, 41; Jefferson the leader of, against Hamilton and his policies, 42-43; Jefferson's view of, as extreme individualism, 43; real policy of Jeffersonian, as revealed upon triumph of his party, 46-49; Jeffersonian, becomes reconciled with Federalism, 46-47; fifty-year sway of Jeffersonian tradition, 48; questionable results of triumph of Jeffersonian, 50-51; existence of a genuine American, proved by War of 1812, 54-55 (_see_ Democracy, Jacksonian); slavery as an institution of, 80 ff. ; work of Abolitionists in the name of, 80-81; Abolitionists' perverted conception of, 80-81, 86; Lincoln an example of the kind of human excellence to be fashioned by, 89; Lincoln's realization of his ideal of a, 94; the labor union and the tradition of, 126 ff. ; the American, and the social problem, 138-140; the ordinary conception of, as a matter of popular government, 176-180; the true meaning of, 176 ff. ; and discrimination, 185-193; the real definition of, 207 ff. ; a superior form of political organization in so far as liberty and equality make for human brotherhood, 207-208; principles of nationality and, in England, 230 ff. ; and nationality in France, 239 ff. ; principles of, and of nationality in America, 267 ff. ; and peace, 308 ff. 

Democracy, Jacksonian (or Western), 52 ff. ; suspected by Hamilton, appreciated by Jefferson, 52-53; disapproves Jefferson's policy of peaceful warfare, 53; forces Madison into second war with England, 53-54; the first genuinely national body of Americans, 54-55; characteristics of, 55-56; reasons for hostility of, to office-holding clique and the National Bank, 57; causes leading to introduction of spoils system by, 57, 59-60; error of views of, 60-61; the first body of Americans genuinely democratic in feeling, 61-62; the true point of view in studying the, 63-65; reason for triumph of, over Whigs, 69-70; attitude of, toward slavery, 73-74, 84; in 1850 Stephen A. Douglas becomes leader of, 84; rally to Lincoln's standard, 86; made to understand for the first time by Lincoln that American nationality is a living principle, 88. 

Direct primaries, fallacy of system of, 342-343. 

Disarmament, undesirability of, under present conditions in Europe, 257; a partial, would be fatal, 264. 

Discrimination, democracy and, 185-193; class, in certain legislative acts, 191-192; constructive, 193 ff. 

Distribution of wealth, improvement in, 209-210; in France, 244-245; equalization of, by graduated inheritance tax, 381-385. 

Divorces, the matter of, 346. 

Douglas, Stephen. A. , 84-86, 281. 

E

Economic liberty of the individual, 201-206. 

Economy, national _vs. _ international, 235. 

Education, chaotic condition of American system of, 318; opportunity for state activities concerning, 346; individual _vs. _ collective, 399 ff. ; is the real vehicle of improvement, by which the American is trained for his democracy, 400; American faith in, characterized by superstition, 400-402; popular interest in, does not give importance to the word of the educated man, 403; what constitutes the real education of the individual, 403-405; efficiency of national, similarly, depends on a nation's ability to profit by experience, 405; education of the individual cannot accomplish the work of collective national, 407; value of a reform movement for, 408; the work of collective, not complete in itself, but followed by certain implications, 428. 

Elzbacher, O. , quoted, 235. 

Emancipation, conditions of individual, 409 ff. ; attempts at individual, 421 ff. ; means of individual, 427 ff. 

Embargo, Jefferson's policy of commercial, 42; disapproved by Jackson and Western Democrats, 53. 

England, faith of Englishmen in, 2; an early example of political efficiency found in, 217; increase of national efficiency of, by attention strictly to her own affairs, 219; national development of, as contrasted with France, 220-221; principles of nationality and of democracy in, 230 ff. ; national efficiency of, until recently, 231; aristocracy in political system of, 231-232; causes and remedies of loss of ground by, 232 ff. ; the principle of compromise carried too far by aristocracy of, 234, 238; political and social subserviency in, resulting in political privilege and social favoritism, 236-237; national idea of, is a matter of freedom, 267. 

Equality, stress laid by Jeffersonian Democrats on, 44; sacrifice of liberty for, by Jeffersonian Democrats, 44-45; desire for, of Jacksonian Democracy, leads to war on office-holding clique and the National Bank, 57; economic and social, in France, and questionable results, 245. 

Equal rights, the Jeffersonian principle of, 44 ff. ; tradition of, results in bosses and trusts, 148-150; the slogan of all parties, 151; Roosevelt's inconsistency on the point of, 172; the principle of, is the expression of an essential aspect of democracy, 180; insufficiency of the principle, 181; inequalities which have resulted from doctrine of, 182-183; grievances resulting from doctrine, 185; interference with, in Pure Food Laws, factory legislation, Inter-state Commerce Acts, etc. , 191-192; subordinated and made helpful to the principle of human brotherhood, 207-208; a logical application of, would wrongly support competition against coöperation, 359. 

"Era of good feeling, " 51. 

Evangelization, law of, 282. 

Executives of states, proposed administrative system for, 338-341. 

F

Factory legislation, justifiable class discrimination in, 191. 

Faguet, Emile, quoted, 193, 208. 

Farmers, necessity of organization not felt by, 126; present position of British, 235. 

Farming, improvement of, in Prussia, 250; value of specialization in, 430. 

Farm laborers, 396. 

Fashoda incident, 260. 

Federalism, at close of Revolutionary War, represented by Hamilton, 28-29; class which supported, 30; views held by supporters of, of anti-Federalists, 32-33; supporters of, founded national government on distrust of democracy, 33; error and misfortune of so doing, 33-34; the Hamiltonian brand of, shown in constructive legislation following framing of Constitution, 39; reconciliation of Republicanism and, 46-47; doubtful results of combination of Republicanism and, 50-51; Whig doctrine of Clay contrasted with Hamilton's Federalism, 52. 

_Federalist_, Hamilton's, quotation from, 37. 

Federalists, the Whigs an improvement on, 67. _See_ Federalism. 

Financial policy of Hamilton, 39. 

Foreign policy, of Great Britain, 8; of European states, 254-264; natural method of arriving at a definite, as shown by England and France, 257-258; bearing of colonial expansion on, 260-262; relation between national domestic policy and, 310. 

Foreign policy, American, 289 ff. ; the Monroe Doctrine in, 291-297; of Jeffersonian Republicans, 292; wisdom of continued policy of isolation, 298, 310; correct policy would be to make American system stand for peace, 299; international system advocated for South and Central America, and Mexico, 300-303; the question of relations with Canada, 303-306; suggested treaty bearing on relations between United States, Canada, and Great Britain, 306; systematic development of, an absolute necessity, 306-307; colonial expansion, 308-309; questions of, raised by future of China, 309-310; isolation of United States is only comparative, under modern conditions, 310. 

Fortunes, the inheritors of great, 204, 382-384. 

France, faith of Frenchmen in, 2; origins of national state in, 218, 219; effect of Revolution on national principle in, 223-224; lack of representative institutions a defect in its government to-day, 228; democracy and nationality in, 239 ff. ; a Republic proved to be best form of government for, 241-242; democracy not thoroughly nationalized in, 242-243; economic problem in, 244-245; lack of national spirit in official domestic policy, 243-244; failure of, as a colonial power as long as striving for European aggrandizement, 261; national idea of, is democratic but is rendered difficult and its value limited, 268. 

Franchises, American municipal policy toward public service corporations', 372-375. 

Freedom, American tradition of, 421-422; the failure to attain, 422 ff. 

Free trade in Great Britain, 234. 

French Revolution, the, 222 ff. 

G

Garrison, William Lloyd, mental attitude and policy of, contrasted with Lincoln's, 95, 427. 

George, Henry, Jr. , cited, 151. 

Germany, effect of religious wars and lack of national policy in, during early development, 219; nationality in, increased after Napoleon, 225; outstripping of England by, industrially, 232, 233; relation between democracy and nationality in, 246 ff. ; system of protection, state ownership of railways, improvement in farming, etc. , 250; result of "paternalism" has been industrial expansion surpassing other European states, 250-251; position of, not so high as ten years ago, 251; the Social Democrats, 251-252; dubious international standing of, 252-253; is the power which has most to gain from a successful war, 252-253; is the cause of a better understanding between England, France, and Russia, 253-254; effect of success or failure of foreign policy on domestic policy, 254; further consideration of international position of, and bearing on disarmament question, 256-259; colonial expansion of, despite her expectation of European aggrandizement, 261; danger of this policy, 261-262; national idea of, turns upon the principle of official leadership toward a goal of national greatness, 267-268. 

Governors of states, 119; suggested reforms relative to administration of, 338 ff. ; "House of, " proposed, 347. 

Great Britain, effect of position of, on domestic and foreign policy, 8, 261; question whether colonial expansion of, has been carried too far, 262; relations between Canada and, 305-306; suggested arrangement between United States and, relative to Canada, 306. _See_ England. 

H

Hamilton, Alexander, doctrines of, versus those of Jefferson, 28-29, 45-46, 153; insight and energy of, saved states from disunion, 37; quoted on the Constitution, 37; importance of work of, in constructive legislation, 38-39; broad view taken by, of governmental functions, 39-40; doubtful theory of, regarding national debt, 40-41; reasons for loss of popularity and influence of, 41-42; philosophy of, concerning liberty and the method of protecting it, 44; Roosevelt's improvement on principle of, 169; adaptability of doctrines of, to democracy without injury to themselves, 214; foreign policy of, 289-290, 292-293. 

Harriman, Edward, 202. 

Hearst, William R. , 136, 151, 155; as a reformer, 142, 143-144; radicalism of, 163; inconsistencies, factiousness, and dangerous revolutionary spirit of, 164-166; viewed as the logical punishment upon the American people for their sins of wrong tradition, 166. 

Heresies of American Middle Period, and sterile results of, 422-426. 

Hill, James J. , 202. 

Hodder, Alfred, quoted, 144, 160, 162. 

Holland, possible incorporation of, with German Empire, 253. 

Holy Alliance, political system established by, 226; Monroe Doctrine the American retort to, 291. 

Home rule, municipal, 347-350. 

"House of Governors, " proposed, 347. 

Howe, Frederic C. , 151. 

Hughes, Governor, 135. 

Human brotherhood, liberty and equality subordinated to principle of, in ideal democracy, 207-208; the only method of realizing the religion of, 453. 

I

Ideal, necessity of an individual and a national, 5-6. 

Income taxation, 384-385. 

Individual emancipation, conditions of, 409 ff. ; attempts at, 421 ff. ; means of, 427 ff. 

Individualism, found in both Federalists and Republicans at close of Revolution, 32; free play allowed to, through triumph of Jefferson and defeat of Hamilton, 49; attitude of the pioneer Western Democrat toward, 64-65; disappearance of political, in the machine, 117-125; encouragement of, and restriction of central authority, result in the "Boss" and the "tainted" millionaire, 148-149; abandonment of the Jeffersonian conception of, necessary for real reform, 152-154; in education, as opposed to collective education, 399-409; damage to American individuality from existing system of economic, 409 ff. ; method of exercising influence of, on behalf of social amelioration, 441 ff. 

Individuality, place of, in Middle West of pioneer days, 63-65; disappearance of, in work of the specialist in later development of the country, 102-103; injury to, from, existing system of economic individualism, 409-410; real meaning of, and of individual independence, 410 ff. ; question of how a democratic nation can contribute to increase of, 413. 

Industrial corporations, regulation, of, 378-379. _See_ Corporations. 

Industrial legislation, class discrimination in, 191. 

Inheritance tax, a graduated, 381-385. 

Inheritors of fortunes, 204, 382-384. 

Initiative, movement in favor of, in state governments, 320. 

Insane asylums, improvement of, as a function of the state, 345. 

Institutional reform, 315 ff. 

Insurance companies, attempted regulation of, by various state governments, 355. 

Internal improvements, the Whig policy of, 66; failure of, 67-68. 

International relations of European states, 254-264. _See_ England, France, Germany, _and_ Russia. 

International socialism, a mistake, 210-211. 

International system, a stable American, 300 ff. ; coöperation of Latin-American states and Mexico in, 300-303; place to be held by Canada in, 303-306; systematic effort to establish, a plain and inevitable consequence of the democratic national principle, 307; peace in an, 311-312. 

Inter-state commerce, question of state or Federal control of, 351-357; policy to be followed by central government toward, 357-368. 

Inter-state Commerce Law, 112-113; an example of class legislation, 191. 

Isolation, loss to an individual or a nation from, far more than the gain, 263-264; comparative nature of, of United States, 310-311; religious sanctity given to tradition of, of United States, 313. 

Italy, national feeling in, after Napoleonic epoch, 225. 

J

Jackson, Andrew, the Democracy of, 52; quarrelsome spirit of, contrasted with Lincoln's magnanimity, 96. _See_ Democracy, Jacksonian. 

Jefferson, Thomas, doctrines of, versus those of Hamilton, 28-29; as leader of the democracy the opponent of Hamilton, 42; foreign policy of, 42, 53, 290, 292; view of democracy as extreme individualism, 43; stress laid by, on equality, 43-44; sacrifice of liberty for equality by, 44-45; fundamental difference between Hamilton and, 45-46; conduct of, on assumption of power, 46-47; Democracy of Jackson contrasted with Republicanism of, 52; mutual appreciation of Western pioneer Democrats and, 52-53; traces of work of, found in failure of Whigs against Jacksonian Democrats, 71; wherein Lincoln differed from, 95; necessity of transformation of doctrines of, before they can be nationalized, 153, 214; theory and practice of, contrasted with Roosevelt's theory and practice, 170; an example of triumphant intellectual dishonesty, 419. 

Jerome, William Travers, as a reformer, 143-144, 155, 184; personality of, 160; special class of reform advocated by, 160-161; lack of success in other than municipal political field, 161-162. 

Jesus, intention of, in preaching non-resistance, 282. 

Judges, election of state, 119; life tenure of office of Federal, 200; as creatures of a political machine, 318. 

Justice, state reform of criminal, 344-345. 

L

Labor problem, the, 385-398. 

Labor unions, 126 ff. , 385 ff. ; danger from aggressive and unscrupulous unionism, 128-129; revolutionary purpose of, in demanding class discrimination, 129-130; parallelism between big corporations and, 130, 386; divergence from corporations, 131; legal recognition of, demanded, and discrimination in their favor by the state, 386-387; economic and social amelioration of laboring class by, 387; association of laborers in, a necessity under present conditions, and the non-union man a species of industrial derelict, 387-389; conditions to which unions should conform, 390-391; the correct policy towards, 390; preference to be given to, by state and municipal governments, but discrimination to be made between "bad" and "good" unions, 394; effect of proposed constructive organization of, on non-union laborers, 395; on farm laborers, 396. 

Latin-American states, coöperation of, in establishment of a stable international system, 300-303; necessity first for improvement in domestic condition of, 302-303. 

Law, big corporations and the, 115-116. 

Lawyers, function of, in American political system, 131 ff. ; tendency of, to specialize, 134-135; those who now figure in political life, 135-136; corporation lawyers, 136; position occupied by, in relation to modern economic and political problem, 137. 

Legislative organization, failure of American, 319-320; causes, 321-324; suggested remedy, 327-331; quality of membership of, should be improved, 328-329; preparation of measures for consideration by, 330-331. 

"Letters of an American Farmer, " 8-9, 10. 

Liberty, Hamilton's theory concerning, as contrasted with Jeffersonian Democrats', 44-45; bearing of worship of so-called, on behavior of factions at time of slavery crisis, 79; responsibility of a democracy for personal, 193 ff. ; economic, of the individual, 201-206; subordinated and made helpful to the principle of human brotherhood, 207-208. 

Liberty and union, Hamilton's idea of, 44-45; prevailing view of, during "era of good feeling, " 51. 

Life insurance companies, attempted regulation of, by various state governments, 355. 

Lincoln, Abraham, first appearance of, in debates with Douglas, 85-86; service of, in seeing straighter and thinking harder than did his contemporaries, 87; makes the Western Democracy understand for the first time that American nationality is a living principle, 88; peculiar service rendered by and wherein his greatness lay, 88-89; the personal worth of, 89; early career and surroundings of, 89-90; wherein he differed from the average Western Democrat, 90-91; training and development of his intellect, 91-92; further consideration of his character, 94 ff. ; contrasted with Jefferson, 95; with Garrison, 95, 427; with Jackson, 96; necessity for emphasis of the difference between, and his contemporary fellow-countrymen, 98-99; national intellectual and moral stature of, 427. 

Low, Seth, as a reformer, 143. 

Lynching, cause of, 318; method of stopping, 344. 

M

Machinery, place of, in American economic development, 108. 

Machines, political, 117 ff. ; created to satisfy a real need, 124-125; power of, felt in the courts, 318; corruption and incompetence of state legislative organizations traceable to, 321; complete reform of local administrative systems necessary for breaking power of, 334; civil service reform has not retarded progress of, 335. 

McClellan, George B. , as a reformer, 143. 

Madison, James, conduct of second war with England by, 53-54. 

Manufacturing, Hamilton's policy in encouraging, 39. 

Merit system in offices, 143; disappointing results of establishment of, 334-337. 

Mexico, coöperation, of, in establishment of stable international system, 303. 

Middle Ages, city states of the, 215; origins of the national state found in, 217 ff. 

Middle class, rise of, in Great Britain, 234-235, 239. 

Militarism and nationality, 254 ff. 

Millionaire, the "tainted, " a result of extreme individualism, 149. 

"Money Power, " Jacksonian Democracy's attitude toward, 59. 

Monopolies, suggested measures against, in municipalities, 374. 

Monroe Doctrine, the, 290 ff. ; accepted as the corollary of policy contained in Washington's Farewell Address, 291; the American retort to the Holy Alliance, 291-292; American democratic idea converted into a dangerously aggressive principle by, 293-294; results to United States of attempting to enforce, 296-297; implies an incompatibility between American and European institutions which does not exist, 297; continued adherence to, will involve United States in fruitless wars, 299-300; necessity of forestalling inevitable future objections to, 307. 

Morgan, J. Pierpont, 202. 

Mugwumps, 141. 

Muirhead, James, quoted, 18-19. 

Municipal corporations, relations of state governments to, 347-348. 

Municipal reform, 143. _See_ Cities. 

Münsterberg, Hugo, quoted, 3. 

N

Napoleon, 224, 225, 259. 

National Bank, the, 39, 57-58, 68. 

Nationality, slavery and American, 72 ff. ; proposed doing away with, by international socialism, a mistake, 210-211; origins of the modern system, 215 ff. ; development of principle of, in European states, 215-221; efficiency resulting from, but also abuses, 221-222; creed of French Revolutionists inimical to spirit of, 222-223; increased force of principle, resulting from abuses of French under Napoleon, 225; bearing of Treaty of Vienna and political system of the Holy Alliance on, 225-226; true meaning of, first understood after revolutionary epoch of 1848, 226-230; no universal and perfect machinery for securing, experience shows, 229-230; relation between principles of, and principles of democracy, 230; principle of, and of democracy, in England, 230 ff. ; democracy and, in France, 239 ff. ; relation between democracy and, in Germany, 246 ff. ; schism created in German, by the Social Democrats, 251; militarism and, 254 ff. ; colonial expansion is proper to principle of, 259; international relations a condition of, 263-264; important position of tradition in principle of, 265-266; principles of, and of democracy, in America, 267 ff. ; and centralization, 272-279. 

Nationalization, meaning of process of, 274. 

Non-interference, policy of, 312-313. 

Non-resistance, doctrine of, not meant for this world, 282. 

Non-union laborers, 387-389; effect on, of proposed constructive organization of labor, 395. 

O

Old age pensions in England, 239. 

Opportunity, necessity of enjoyment of, by individuals, 203. 

Order, maintenance of, as a state function, 344-345. 

Oregon, the initiative in, 328. 

Ore lands, lease of, to United States Steel Corporation, 114. 

P

Pan-Americanism, 313-314. 

Parker, Alton B. , 163. 

Paternalism, German, 250. 

Patriotism, national, 2; American, contrasted with that of other nations 2-3. 

Peace, democracy and, 308 ff. 

Pensions, old age, in England, 239; military, in United States, 274. 

Philippines, questions concerning American acquisition of, 308-309. 

Poland, partition of, 222. 

Police force, state, 344-345. 

Political specialist. _See_ "Boss. "

Politics, separation of the business man from, 117; specialized organization of, 118-121. 

Popular sovereignty, Stephen A. Douglas's theory of, 84-86; criticism of democracy defined as, 176-178; principle of, as represented by French Revolutionaries, 223-224; principle of national sovereignty not to be confused with, 265-266; the essential condition of democracy, 269-270; definition of the phrase, 279 ff. ; is equivalent for Americans to the phrase "national Sovereignty, " 280; misconceptions of, notably Douglas's error, 281. 

Porto Rico, relations between United States and, 308. 

Poverty, as a social danger in a democratic state, 205. 

Prisons, improvement of, as a function of the state, 345. 

Profits of corporations, disposal of question of excessive, 370. 

Property, preservation of institution of private, 209. 

Protection, Whig policy of, and its defeat, 68; Bismarck's policy of, 250. 

Public ownership, 366-367; municipal, 372-375; the portion of railroad property properly subject to, 376-377; another plan of, regarding railroads, 377-378. 

Public Service Commissions of New York State, 360-361; principal objection to, 368. 

Public service corporations holding municipal franchises, should be subject to cities only, 349; municipal policy toward, 372-373. 

Pure Food Bill, class discrimination in, 191. 

R

Railroads, conditions of growth of American, 109; the granting of rebates by, 110-111; public ownership of, advocated by W. J. Bryan, 158; state ownership of, in Prussia, 250; constructive organization of, in United States, 351 ff. ; domination of, in politics of states, 352-353; undesirability of state supervision of, and danger to roads themselves, 353-354; ignorant and unwise legislation by states concerning, 354-355; substitution of control of central government for state control, 356-357; policy to be followed by central government toward 357 ff. ; law should be passed providing for agreements between roads, and mergers, 364-305; freedom should be left to, to make rates and schedules, and develop their traffic, 365-366; public ownership of, 366; regulation of, by Federal commissions a doubtful step, 360-363, 368; process of combination among, and results, 375-376; value of monopoly possessed by, could be secured to the community by Federal government taking possession of terminals, right of way, tracks, and stations, 376-377; the alternative plan, of government appropriation of roads, and its working out, 377-378. _See_ Corporations. 

Real estate tax, 385. 

Rebates, 109, 110-113, 357. 

Recall, principle of the, 332-333; employment of the, in suggested administrative system, 338, 340. 

Referendum, movement in favor of, in state governments, 320; pros and cons of the, 327-328. 

Reform, course of the movement, 141-142; variety in kinds of, 142-143; variety found in exponents of, 143-144; function of, according to the reformers, 144-145; disappointment of hopes for, and reasons, 145-147; a better understanding of meaning of, and of the function of reformers, necessary to successful correction of abuses, 147; causes of need for, 148-150; wrong conceptions of, and intellectual awakening essential for, 150; true methods for accomplishing, 152-154; state institutional, 315 ff. ; policy of drift should not be allowed in, 315-316; state administrative, 333 ff. ; impossibility of accomplishing, by Australian ballot, direct primary system, and similar devices, 341-343; direct practical value of a movement for, may be surpassed by its indirect educational value, 408. 

Reich, Emil, quoted, 1. 

Religious wars, bearing of, on national development of European states, 219. 

Republicanism, represented by Jefferson, 28-29, 30, 31; identified with political disorder and social instability by Federalists, 32-33; opposition of, to Federalism as represented by Hamilton, 42-46; alliance of Federalists and party of, 46-47; effects of combination, 50-51; Jefferson's Republicanism contrasted with Jackson's Democracy, 52; views held by supporters of, on slavery question, 78. 

Republican party, causes leading to organization of the modern, 83; its claims to being the first genuinely national party, 83-84; rescue of, by Roosevelt, 171. 

Revolutions, question of, 210. 

Rockefeller, John D. , 111-112, 114, 115. 

Roman Empire, the, 216. 

Roosevelt, Theodore, 86, 136, 155; as a reformer, 142, 167; nationalization of reform by, 168-170; policy of, compared with Hamiltonian creed, 169; theory and practice of, contrasted with Jefferson's, 170; the rescue of the Republican party by, 171; vulnerability of, on the point of equal rights, 172; has really been building better than he knew or will admit, 173-174; criticism of, as a national reformer, 174-175. 

Roosevelt-Taft programme, of recognition of corporations, tempered by regulation, 358-359; how best to carry out, 359-360. 

Root, Elihu, 135; international system indicated by, 301. 

Russia, faith of Russians in, 2; international situation of, at present, 253, 256-257, 258; weakness of, exposed, 311. 

S

Saloon licenses, 385. 

Santayana, George, quoted, 454. 

Scientists, methods of, a perfect type of authoritative technical methods, 434. 

Sherman Anti-Trust Law, a bar to proper treatment of corporate aggrandizement, 274; as an expensive attempt to save the life of the small competitor who cannot hold his own, should be repealed, 359. 

Slaveholders, an impartial estimate of, 81-82. 

Slavery, effect of introduction of factor of, on Democrats and Whigs, 72; sanctioned by the Constitution, and results, 72-73; attitude of the two political parties toward, 73-74; shirking of the question, and compromises, 74; brings out inconsistency of alliance between Jeffersonian democracy and American nationality as embodied in Constitutional Union, 75; Webster's attitude on the question, 75-77; American people separated into five parties by, 77; attitude of Constitutional Unionists toward, 78; beliefs of Abolitionists, Southern Democrats, Northern Democrats, and Republicans, 78-79; body of public opinion looking to de-nationalizing slavery, which was organized into the Republican party, 83-84. 

Smythe, William, 151. 

Social Democrats, party of, in Germany, 251. 

Socialism, weakness of, 210; idea of an international, a mistake, 210-211. 

Socialists, doctrine preached by extreme, in France, 243. 

Social problem, democracy and the, 138-140. 

South America, bearing of Monroe Doctrine on, and possible complications resulting from, 294-296. 

Spain, religious wars of, 219; national feeling in, increased by abuses of Napoleon, 225. 

Specialization, contempt for, in Middle West of pioneer days, 63-65; necessity for, resulting from industrial development, 102-103; of the American business man, 105 ff. , 117; of the politician, 117 ff. ; labor unions a decisive instance of, 126 ff. ; among lawyers, 134-135; regarded as a revolt from the national democratic tradition, 138-139; perils of, to American social organization, 139; part to be played in individual emancipation by, 427-441. 

Spoils system, causes of introduction of, 57, 59-60; effect of, opposite of that intended, 60-61; civil service reform and the, 143. 

"Square deal, " Roosevelt's, 20, 151, 172. 

Standard of living, a constantly higher, for wage-earners, 206; labor unions an effective machinery for raising, 387. 

Standard Oil Company, attempted regulation of, by various states, 355. 

Standards, in scientific work and in liberal or practical arts, 434-435; acquirement of authentic, 435-436; of technical excellence, 436-437; only way of improving popular, for men of higher standards, 443-444. 

State, development of the national, 215 ff. ; increasing political efficiency of, shown to be proportioned to responsible exercise of powers, 217-220. 

State governments, reorganization of, in democratic spirit, after Revolutionary War, 31; lack of success of American, 317; failure of criminal and civil courts, 318; chaotic condition of tax systems and educational systems, 318-319; incompetent and frequently dishonest financial and economic legislation, 319; fault lies partly in existing standards of morality, but in part also is result of unwise organization, 319; demand for reorganization of, 319-320; movement in favor of initiative and referendum in, 320, 327-328; wrong diagnosis of causes of legislative corruption and incompetence, 320-321; reasons for failure of, 321 ff. ; disadvantages of system of checks and balances in, 323-324; failure of, to be imputed chiefly to lack of a centralized responsible organization, 324; improvement in legislatures necessary, 326-329; plan suggested for improvement of, 328-331; administrative reform in, 333 ff. ; maintenance of order by, 344; reorganization of criminal laws by, 344-345; improvement of prisons and insane asylums by, 345; possible activities of, in relation to labor, educational questions, etc. , 346; method of attaining their maximum usefulness, 347; relation of, to cities, 347-349; questions such as regulation of commerce, control of corporations, distribution of wealth, and prevention of poverty outside of field of activities of, 350; domination of railroads in, 352-353; interference of, with railroad, insurance, and other corporations, 353-355. 

Steffens, Lincoln, 163. 

Sterilization of criminals, 345. 

Strikes, 127-128, 392. 

Suffrage, advantages and disadvantages of a limited, 198-199. 

Supreme Court, power of the, 132-133; success of, in the American political system, 134; question of life tenure of office of judges of, 200. 

T

Taft, President, 135. 

Tammany Hall, 125, 151. 

Tariff, an example of class legislation, 191; Federal authorities responsible for, 274; first duty of United States to revise, 305. 

Tariff reform, 142-143. 

Taxation, remedying excessive profits of corporations by, 370; as a weapon of municipalities against monopolies, 374; use of power of, to equalize distribution of wealth and raise money for governmental expenses, 381; of inheritances, 382-385; of incomes, 384-385; real estate and saloon, 385. 

Tax systems, state, chaotic condition of, 318. 

Technical schools, growth of, 429-430. 

Tobacco manufacture, regulation of, by government, 379. 

Tolstoy, pernicious results of triumph of democracy of, 282; led into error by brotherly feelings, 453. 

Trade schools, 391. 

Tradition, force of accumulated national, in forming a people into a state, 227, 259; the national, of England, Germany, France, and America, 267-270; necessity of emancipation of nations from, 279. 

Trust funds, evils of, 383-384. 

Trusts. _See_ Corporations. 

U

Un-Americanism, the reforming spirit wrongly called, 49. 

Unification, of Germany by Bismarck, 247-249; wars which helped toward, were justifiable, 256. 

Unionism, labor. _See_ Labor unions. 

United States Steel Corporation, lease of ore lands by, 114. 

V

Vienna, Treaty of, 225. 

Virtue, the principle of democracy, 454. 

Voting, for state representatives, 329; American systems of, 341-343. 

W

Wage-earners, increasing standard of living for, 206; weakness of socialistic programme for, 210-211. _See_ Labor unions. 

War of 1812 and its lessons, 53-55. 

Wars, justifiability of, 255-256; likelihood of more, before establishment of a stable European situation, 257. 

Washington, foreign policy contained in Farewell Address of, 290. 

Wealth, necessity of opportunity for acquiring, 203; improvement in the distribution of, 209-210; distribution of, in France, 244-245; equalization of distribution of, by graduated inheritance tax, 381-385. 

Webster, Daniel, 52, 427; reason for failure of ideas of, 69-70; representative of behavior of public opinion as regarded slavery question during the Middle Period, 75-77. 

Wells, H. G. , quoted, 4. 

Whigs, standards represented by, against Jacksonian or Western Democracy, 65-67; wherein they improved on the Federalists, 67; policy of internal improvements, 66; its failure, 67-68; failure regarding re-chartering of National Bank, 68; and regarding policy of protection, 68; complete failure in fight against Federal executive, 68-69; reason for failures, 69-70; attitude of, toward slavery, 73-74. 

Workingmen, party composed of, in Germany, 251.