Democracy In America, Vol. 1
by Alexis de Toqueville
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
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[Footnote m: Even if we knew the exact pecuniary contributions of
every French and American citizen to the coffers of the State, we
should only come at a portion of the truth. Governments do not
only demand supplies of money, but they call for personal
services, which may be looked upon as equivalent to a given sum.
When a State raises an army, besides the pay of the troops, which
is furnished by the entire nation, each soldier must give up his
time, the value of which depends on the use he might make of it
if he were not in the service. The same remark applies to the
militia; the citizen who is in the militia devotes a certain
portion of valuable time to the maintenance of the public peace,
and he does in reality surrender to the State those earnings
which he is prevented from gaining. Many other instances might
be cited in addition to these. The governments of France and of
America both levy taxes of this kind, which weigh upon the
citizens; but who can estimate with accuracy their relative
amount in the two countries?

This, however, is not the last of the difficulties which
prevent us from comparing the expenditure of the Union with that
of France. The French Government contracts certain obligations
which do not exist in America, and vice versa. The French
Government pays the clergy; in America the voluntary principle
prevails. In America there is a legal provision for the poor; in
France they are abandoned to the charity of the public. The
French public officers are paid by a fixed salary; in America
they are allowed certain perquisites. In France contributions in
kind take place on very few roads; in America upon almost all the
thoroughfares: in the former country the roads are free to all
travellers; in the latter turnpikes abound. All these
differences in the manner in which contributions are levied in
the two countries enhance the difficulty of comparing their
expenditure; for there are certain expenses which the citizens
would not be subject to, or which would at any rate be much less
considerable, if the State did not take upon itself to act in the
name of the public.]

Hence we must conclude that it is no less difficult to
compare the social expenditure than it is to estimate the
relative wealth of France and America. I will even add that it
would be dangerous to attempt this comparison; for when
statistics are not based upon computations which are strictly
accurate, they mislead instead of guiding aright. The mind is
easily imposed upon by the false affectation of exactness, which
prevails even in the misstatements of science, and it adopts with
confidence errors which are dressed in the forms of mathematical
truth.

We abandon, therefore, our numerical investigation, with the
hope of meeting with data of another kind. In the absence of
positive documents, we may form an opinion as to the proportion
which the taxation of a people bears to its real prosperity, by
observing whether its external appearance is flourishing;
whether, after having discharged the calls of the State, the poor
man retains the means of subsistence, and the rich the means of
enjoyment; and whether both classes are contented with their
position, seeking, however, to ameliorate it by perpetual
exertions, so that industry is never in want of capital, nor
capital unemployed by industry. The observer who draws his
inferences from these signs will, undoubtedly, be led to the
conclusion that the American of the United States contributes a
much smaller portion of his income to the State than the citizen
of France. Nor, indeed, can the result be otherwise.

A portion of the French debt is the consequence of two
successive invasions; and the Union has no similar calamity to
fear. A nation placed upon the continent of Europe is obliged to
maintain a large standing army; the isolated position of the
Union enables it to have only 6,000 soldiers. The French have a
fleet of 300 sail; the Americans have 52 vessels. *n How, then,
can the inhabitants of the Union be called upon to contribute as
largely as the inhabitants of France? No parallel can be drawn
between the finances of two countries so differently situated.

[Footnote n: See the details in the Budget of the French Minister
of Marine; and for America, the National Calendar of 1833, p.
228. [But the public debt of the United States in 1870, caused
by the Civil War, amounted to $2,480,672,427; that of France was
more than doubled by the extravagance of the Second Empire and by
the war of 1870.]]

It is by examining what actually takes place in the Union,
and not by comparing the Union with France, that we may discover
whether the American Government is really economical. On casting
my eyes over the different republics which form the
confederation, I perceive that their Governments lack
perseverance in their undertakings, and that they exercise no
steady control over the men whom they employ. Whence I naturally
infer that they must often spend the money of the people to no
purpose, or consume more of it than is really necessary to their
undertakings. Great efforts are made, in accordance with the
democratic origin of society, to satisfy the exigencies of the
lower orders, to open the career of power to their endeavors, and
to diffuse knowledge and comfort amongst them. The poor are
maintained, immense sums are annually devoted to public
instruction, all services whatsoever are remunerated, and the
most subordinate agents are liberally paid. If this kind of
government appears to me to be useful and rational, I am
nevertheless constrained to admit that it is expensive.

Wherever the poor direct public affairs and dispose of the
national resources, it appears certain that, as they profit by
the expenditure of the State, they are apt to augment that
expenditure.

I conclude, therefore, without having recourse to inaccurate
computations, and without hazarding a comparison which might
prove incorrect, that the democratic government of the Americans
is not a cheap government, as is sometimes asserted; and I have
no hesitation in predicting that, if the people of the United
States is ever involved in serious difficulties, its taxation
will speedily be increased to the rate of that which prevails in
the greater part of the aristocracies and the monarchies of
Europe. *o

[Footnote o: [That is precisely what has since occurred.]]

Chapter XIII: Government Of The Democracy In America - Part III
Corruption And Vices Of The Rulers In A Democracy, And Consequent
Effects Upon Public Morality

In aristocracies rulers sometimes endeavor to corrupt the people
- In democracies rulers frequently show themselves to be corrupt
- In the former their vices are directly prejudicial to the
morality of the people - In the latter their indirect influence
is still more pernicious.

A distinction must be made, when the aristocratic and the
democratic principles mutually inveigh against each other, as
tending to facilitate corruption. In aristocratic governments
the individuals who are placed at the head of affairs are rich
men, who are solely desirous of power. In democracies statesmen
are poor, and they have their fortunes to make. The consequence
is that in aristocratic States the rulers are rarely accessible
to corruption, and have very little craving for money; whilst the
reverse is the case in democratic nations.

But in aristocracies, as those who are desirous of arriving
at the head of affairs are possessed of considerable wealth, and
as the number of persons by whose assistance they may rise is
comparatively small, the government is, if I may use the
expression, put up to a sort of auction. In democracies, on the
contrary, those who are covetous of power are very seldom
wealthy, and the number of citizens who confer that power is
extremely great. Perhaps in democracies the number of men who
might be bought is by no means smaller, but buyers are rarely to
be met with; and, besides, it would be necessary to buy so many
persons at once that the attempt is rendered nugatory.

Many of the men who have been in the administration in
France during the last forty years have been accused of making
their fortunes at the expense of the State or of its allies; a
reproach which was rarely addressed to the public characters of
the ancient monarchy. But in France the practice of bribing
electors is almost unknown, whilst it is notoriously and publicly
carried on in England. In the United States I never heard a man
accused of spending his wealth in corrupting the populace; but I
have often heard the probity of public officers questioned; still
more frequently have I heard their success attributed to low
intrigues and immoral practices.

If, then, the men who conduct the government of an
aristocracy sometimes endeavor to corrupt the people, the heads
of a democracy are themselves corrupt. In the former case the
morality of the people is directly assailed; in the latter an
indirect influence is exercised upon the people which is still
more to be dreaded.

As the rulers of democratic nations are almost always
exposed to the suspicion of dishonorable conduct, they in some
measure lend the authority of the Government to the base
practices of which they are accused. They thus afford an example
which must prove discouraging to the struggles of virtuous
independence, and must foster the secret calculations of a
vicious ambition. If it be asserted that evil passions are
displayed in all ranks of society, that they ascend the throne by
hereditary right, and that despicable characters are to be met
with at the head of aristocratic nations as well as in the sphere
of a democracy, this objection has but little weight in my
estimation. The corruption of men who have casually risen to
power has a coarse and vulgar infection in it which renders it
contagious to the multitude. On the contrary, there is a kind of
aristocratic refinement and an air of grandeur in the depravity
of the great, which frequently prevent it from spreading abroad.

The people can never penetrate into the perplexing labyrinth
of court intrigue, and it will always have difficulty in
detecting the turpitude which lurks under elegant manners,
refined tastes, and graceful language. But to pillage the public
purse, and to vend the favors of the State, are arts which the
meanest villain may comprehend, and hope to practice in his turn.

In reality it is far less prejudicial to witness the
immorality of the great than to witness that immorality which
leads to greatness. In a democracy private citizens see a man of
their own rank in life, who rises from that obscure position, and
who becomes possessed of riches and of power in a few years; the
spectacle excites their surprise and their envy, and they are led
to inquire how the person who was yesterday their equal is to-day
their ruler. To attribute his rise to his talents or his virtues
is unpleasant; for it is tacitly to acknowledge that they are
themselves less virtuous and less talented than he was. They are
therefore led (and not unfrequently their conjecture is a correct
one) to impute his success mainly to some one of his defects; and
an odious mixture is thus formed of the ideas of turpitude and
power, unworthiness and success, utility and dishonor.

Efforts Of Which A Democracy Is Capable

The Union has only had one struggle hitherto for its existence -
Enthusiasm at the commencement of the war - Indifference towards
its close - Difficulty of establishing military conscription or
impressment of seamen in America - Why a democratic people is
less capable of sustained effort than another.

I here warn the reader that I speak of a government which
implicitly follows the real desires of a people, and not of a
government which simply commands in its name. Nothing is so
irresistible as a tyrannical power commanding in the name of the
people, because, whilst it exercises that moral influence which
belongs to the decision of the majority, it acts at the same time
with the promptitude and the tenacity of a single man.

It is difficult to say what degree of exertion a democratic
government may be capable of making a crisis in the history of
the nation. But no great democratic republic has hitherto
existed in the world. To style the oligarchy which ruled over
France in 1793 by that name would be to offer an insult to the
republican form of government. The United States afford the
first example of the kind.

The American Union has now subsisted for half a century, in
the course of which time its existence has only once been
attacked, namely, during the War of Independence. At the
commencement of that long war, various occurrences took place
which betokened an extraordinary zeal for the service of the
country. *p But as the contest was prolonged, symptoms of private
egotism began to show themselves. No money was poured into the
public treasury; few recruits could be raised to join the army;
the people wished to acquire independence, but was very
ill-disposed to undergo the privations by which alone it could be
obtained. "Tax laws," says Hamilton in the "Federalist" (No.
12), "have in vain been multiplied; new methods to enforce the
collection have in vain been tried; the public expectation has
been uniformly disappointed and the treasuries of the States have
remained empty. The popular system of administration inherent in
the nature of popular government, coinciding with the real
scarcity of money incident to a languid and mutilated state of
trade, has hitherto defeated every experiment for extensive
collections, and has at length taught the different legislatures
the folly of attempting them."

[Footnote p: One of the most singular of these occurrences was
the resolution which the Americans took of temporarily abandoning
the use of tea. Those who know that men usually cling more to
their habits than to their life will doubtless admire this great
though obscure sacrifice which was made by a whole people.]

The United States have not had any serious war to carry on
ever since that period. In order, therefore, to appreciate the
sacrifices which democratic nations may impose upon themselves,
we must wait until the American people is obliged to put half its
entire income at the disposal of the Government, as was done by
the English; or until it sends forth a twentieth part of its
population to the field of battle, as was done by France. *q

[Footnote q: [The Civil War showed that when the necessity arose
the American people, both in the North and in the South, are
capable of making the most enormous sacrifices, both in money and
in men.]]

In America the use of conscription is unknown, and men are
induced to enlist by bounties. The notions and habits of the
people of the United States are so opposed to compulsory
enlistment that I do not imagine it can ever be sanctioned by the
laws. What is termed the conscription in France is assuredly the
heaviest tax upon the population of that country; yet how could a
great continental war be carried on without it? The Americans
have not adopted the British impressment of seamen, and they have
nothing which corresponds to the French system of maritime
conscription; the navy, as well as the merchant service, is
supplied by voluntary service. But it is not easy to conceive
how a people can sustain a great maritime war without having
recourse to one or the other of these two systems. Indeed, the
Union, which has fought with some honor upon the seas, has never
possessed a very numerous fleet, and the equipment of the small
number of American vessels has always been excessively expensive.

I have heard American statesmen confess that the Union will
have great difficulty in maintaining its rank on the seas without
adopting the system of impressment or of maritime conscription;
but the difficulty is to induce the people, which exercises the
supreme authority, to submit to impressment or any compulsory
system.

It is incontestable that in times of danger a free people
displays far more energy than one which is not so. But I incline
to believe that this is more especially the case in those free
nations in which the democratic element preponderates. Democracy
appears to me to be much better adapted for the peaceful conduct
of society, or for an occasional effort of remarkable vigor, than
for the hardy and prolonged endurance of the storms which beset
the political existence of nations. The reason is very evident;
it is enthusiasm which prompts men to expose themselves to
dangers and privations, but they will not support them long
without reflection. There is more calculation, even in the
impulses of bravery, than is generally attributed to them; and
although the first efforts are suggested by passion, perseverance
is maintained by a distinct regard of the purpose in view. A
portion of what we value is exposed, in order to save the
remainder.

But it is this distinct perception of the future, founded
upon a sound judgment and an enlightened experience, which is
most frequently wanting in democracies. The populace is more apt
to feel than to reason; and if its present sufferings are great,
it is to be feared that the still greater sufferings attendant
upon defeat will be forgotten.

Another cause tends to render the efforts of a democratic
government less persevering than those of an aristocracy. Not
only are the lower classes less awakened than the higher orders
to the good or evil chances of the future, but they are liable to
suffer far more acutely from present privations. The noble
exposes his life, indeed, but the chance of glory is equal to the
chance of harm. If he sacrifices a large portion of his income
to the State, he deprives himself for a time of the pleasures of
affluence; but to the poor man death is embellished by no pomp or
renown, and the imposts which are irksome to the rich are fatal
to him.

This relative impotence of democratic republics is, perhaps,
the greatest obstacle to the foundation of a republic of this
kind in Europe. In order that such a State should subsist in one
country of the Old World, it would be necessary that similar
institutions should be introduced into all the other nations.

I am of opinion that a democratic government tends in the
end to increase the real strength of society; but it can never
combine, upon a single point and at a given time, so much power
as an aristocracy or a monarchy. If a democratic country
remained during a whole century subject to a republican
government, it would probably at the end of that period be more
populous and more prosperous than the neighboring despotic
States. But it would have incurred the risk of being conquered
much oftener than they would in that lapse of years.

Self-Control Of The American Democracy

The American people acquiesces slowly, or frequently does not
acquiesce, in what is beneficial to its interests - The faults of
the American democracy are for the most part reparable.

The difficulty which a democracy has in conquering the
passions and in subduing the exigencies of the moment, with a
view to the future, is conspicuous in the most trivial
occurrences of the United States. The people, which is
surrounded by flatterers, has great difficulty in surmounting its
inclinations, and whenever it is solicited to undergo a privation
or any kind of inconvenience, even to attain an end which is
sanctioned by its own rational conviction, it almost always
refuses to comply at first. The deference of the Americans to
the laws has been very justly applauded; but it must be added
that in America the legislation is made by the people and for the
people. Consequently, in the United States the law favors those
classes which are most interested in evading it elsewhere. It
may therefore be supposed that an offensive law, which should not
be acknowledged to be one of immediate utility, would either not
be enacted or would not be obeyed.

In America there is no law against fraudulent bankruptcies;
not because they are few, but because there are a great number of
bankruptcies. The dread of being prosecuted as a bankrupt acts
with more intensity upon the mind of the majority of the people
than the fear of being involved in losses or ruin by the failure
of other parties, and a sort of guilty tolerance is extended by
the public conscience to an offence which everyone condemns in
his individual capacity. In the new States of the Southwest the
citizens generally take justice into their own hands, and murders
are of very frequent occurrence. This arises from the rude
manners and the ignorance of the inhabitants of those deserts,
who do not perceive the utility of investing the law with
adequate force, and who prefer duels to prosecutions.

Someone observed to me one day, in Philadelphia, that almost
all crimes in America are caused by the abuse of intoxicating
liquors, which the lower classes can procure in great abundance,
from their excessive cheapness. "How comes it," said I, "that
you do not put a duty upon brandy?" "Our legislators," rejoined
my informant, "have frequently thought of this expedient; but the
task of putting it in operation is a difficult one; a revolt
might be apprehended, and the members who should vote for a law
of this kind would be sure of losing their seats." "Whence I am
to infer," replied I, "that the drinking population constitutes
the majority in your country, and that temperance is somewhat
unpopular."

When these things are pointed out to the American statesmen,
they content themselves with assuring you that time will operate
the necessary change, and that the experience of evil will teach
the people its true interests. This is frequently true, although
a democracy is more liable to error than a monarch or a body of
nobles; the chances of its regaining the right path when once it
has acknowledged its mistake, are greater also; because it is
rarely embarrassed by internal interests, which conflict with
those of the majority, and resist the authority ofreason. But a
democracy can only obtain truth as the result of experience, and
many nations may forfeit their existence whilst they are awaiting
the consequences of their errors.

The great privilege of the Americans does not simply consist
in their being more enlightened than other nations, but in their
being able to repair the faults they may commit. To which it
must be added, that a democracy cannot derive substantial benefit
from past experience, unless it be arrived at a certain pitch of
knowledge and civilization. There are tribes and peoples whose
education has been so vicious, and whose character presents so
strange a mixture of passion, of ignorance, and of erroneous
notions upon all subjects, that they are unable to discern the
causes of their own wretchedness, and they fall a sacrifice to
ills with which they are unacquainted.

I have crossed vast tracts of country that were formerly
inhabited by powerful Indian nations which are now extinct; I
have myself passed some time in the midst of mutilated tribes,
which witness the daily decline of their numerical strength and
of the glory of their independence; and I have heard these
Indians themselves anticipate the impending doom of their race.
Every European can perceive means which would rescue these
unfortunate beings from inevitable destruction. They alone are
insensible to the expedient; they feel the woe which year after
year heaps upon their heads, but they will perish to a man
without accepting the remedy. It would be necessary to employ
force to induce them to submit to the protection and the
constraint of civilization.

The incessant revolutions which have convulsed the South
American provinces for the last quarter of a century have
frequently been adverted to with astonishment, and expectations
have been expressed that those nations would speedily return to
their natural state. But can it be affirmed that the turmoil of
revolution is not actually the most natural state of the South
American Spaniards at the present time? In that country society
is plunged into difficulties from which all its efforts are
insufficient to rescue it. The inhabitants of that fair portion
of the Western Hemisphere seem obstinately bent on pursuing the
work of inward havoc. If they fall into a momentary repose from
the effects of exhaustion, that repose prepares them for a fresh
state of frenzy. When I consider their condition, which
alternates between misery and crime, I should be inclined to
believe that despotism itself would be a benefit to them, if it
were possible that the words despotism and benefit could ever be
united in my mind.

Conduct Of Foreign Affairs By The American Democracy

Direction given to the foreign policy of the United States by
Washington and Jefferson - Almost all the defects inherent in
democratic institutions are brought to light in the conduct of
foreign affairs - Their advantages are less perceptible.

We have seen that the Federal Constitution entrusts the
permanent direction of the external interests of the nation to
the President and the Senate, *r which tends in some degree to
detach the general foreign policy of the Union from the control
of the people. It cannot therefore be asserted with truth that
the external affairs of State are conducted by the democracy.

[Footnote r: "The President," says the Constitution, Art. II,
sect. 2, Section 2, "shall have power, by and with the advice and
consent of the Senate, to make treaties, provided two-thirds of
the senators present concur." The reader is reminded that the
senators are returned for a term of six years, and that they are
chosen by the legislature of each State.]

The policy of America owes its rise to Washington, and after
him to Jefferson, who established those principles which it
observes at the present day. Washington said in the admirable
letter which he addressed to his fellow-citizens, and which may
be looked upon as his political bequest to the country: "The
great rule of conduct for us in regard to foreign nations is, in
extending our commercial relations, to have with them as little
political connection as possible. So far as we have already
formed engagements, let them be fulfilled with perfect good
faith. Here let us stop. Europe has a set of primary interests
which to us have none, or a very remote relation. Hence, she must
be engaged in frequent controversies, the causes of which are
essentially foreign to our concerns. Hence, therefore, it must
be unwise in us to implicate ourselves, by artificial ties, in
the ordinary vicissitudes of her politics, or the ordinary
combinations and collisions of her friendships or enmities. Our
detached and distant situation invites and enables us to pursue a
different course. If we remain one people, under an efficient
government, the period is not far off when we may defy material
injury from external annoyance; when we may take such an attitude
as will cause the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon to
be scrupulously respected; when belligerent nations, under the
impossibility of making acquisitions upon us, will not lightly
hazard the giving us provocation; when we may choose peace or
war, as our interest, guided by justice, shall counsel. Why
forego the advantages of so peculiar a situation? Why quit our
own to stand upon foreign ground? Why, by interweaving our
destiny with that of any part of Europe, entangle our peace and
prosperity in the toils of European ambition, rivalship,
interest, humor, or caprice? It is our true policy to steer
clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign
world; so far, I mean, as we are now at liberty to do it; for let
me not be understood as capable of patronizing infidelity to
existing engagements. I hold the maxim no less applicable to
public than to private affairs, that honesty is always the best
policy. I repeat it; therefore, let those engagements be
observed in their genuine sense; but in my opinion it is
unnecessary, and would be unwise, to extend them. Taking care
always to keep ourselves, by suitable establishments, in a
respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary
alliances for extraordinary emergencies." In a previous part of
the same letter Washington makes the following admirable and just
remark: "The nation which indulges towards another an habitual
hatred or an habitual fondness is in some degree a slave. It is
a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is
sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest."

The political conduct of Washington was always guided by
these maxims. He succeeded in maintaining his country in a state
of peace whilst all the other nations of the globe were at war;
and he laid it down as a fundamental doctrine, that the true
interest of the Americans consisted in a perfect neutrality with
regard to the internal dissensions of the European Powers.

Jefferson went still further, and he introduced a maxim into
the policy of the Union, which affirms that "the Americans ought
never to solicit any privileges from foreign nations, in order
not to be obliged to grant similar privileges themselves."

These two principles, which were so plain and so just as to
be adapted to the capacity of the populace, have greatly
simplified the foreign policy of the United States. As the Union
takes no part in the affairs of Europe, it has, properly
speaking, no foreign interests to discuss, since it has at
present no powerful neighbors on the American continent. The
country is as much removed from the passions of the Old World by
its position as by the line of policy which it has chosen, and it
is neither called upon to repudiate nor to espouse the
conflicting interests of Europe; whilst the dissensions of the
New World are still concealed within the bosom of the future.

The Union is free from all pre-existing obligations, and it
is consequently enabled to profit by the experience of the old
nations of Europe, without being obliged, as they are, to make
the best of the past, and to adapt it to their present
circumstances; or to accept that immense inheritance which they
derive from their forefathers - an inheritance of glory mingled
with calamities, and of alliances conflicting with national
antipathies. The foreign policy of the United States is reduced
by its very nature to await the chances of the future history of
the nation, and for the present it consists more in abstaining
from interference than in exerting its activity.

It is therefore very difficult to ascertain, at present,
what degree of sagacity the American democracy will display in
the conduct of the foreign policy of the country; and upon this
point its adversaries, as well as its advocates, must suspend
their judgment. As for myself I have no hesitation in avowing my
conviction, that it is most especially in the conduct of foreign
relations that democratic governments appear to me to be
decidedly inferior to governments carried on upon different
principles. Experience, instruction, and habit may almost always
succeed in creating a species of practical discretion in
democracies, and that science of the daily occurrences of life
which is called good sense. Good sense may suffice to direct the
ordinary course of society; and amongst a people whose education
has been provided for, the advantages of democratic liberty in
the internal affairs of the country may more than compensate for
the evils inherent in a democratic government. But such is not
always the case in the mutual relations of foreign nations.

Foreign politics demand scarcely any of those qualities
which a democracy possesses; and they require, on the contrary,
the perfect use of almost all those faculties in which it is
deficient. Democracy is favorable to the increase of the
internal resources of the State; it tends to diffuse a moderate
independence; it promotes the growth of public spirit, and
fortifies the respect which is entertained for law in all classes
of society; and these are advantages which only exercise an
indirect influence over the relations which one people bears to
another. But a democracy is unable to regulate the details of an
important undertaking, to persevere in a design, and to work out
its execution in the presence of serious obstacles. It cannot
combine its measures with secrecy, and it will not await their
consequences with patience. These are qualities which more
especially belong to an individual or to an aristocracy; and they
are precisely the means by which an individual people attains to
a predominant position.

If, on the contrary, we observe the natural defects of
aristocracy, we shall find that their influence is comparatively
innoxious in the direction of the external affairs of a State.
The capital fault of which aristocratic bodies may be accused is
that they are more apt to contrive their own advantage than that
of the mass of the people. In foreign politics it is rare for
the interest of the aristocracy to be in any way distinct from
that of the people.

The propensity which democracies have to obey the impulse of
passion rather than the suggestions of prudence, and to abandon a
mature design for the gratification of a momentary caprice, was
very clearly seen in America on the breaking out of the French
Revolution. It was then as evident to the simplest capacity as
it is at the present time that the interest of the Americans
forbade them to take any part in the contest which was about to
deluge Europe with blood, but which could by no means injure the
welfare of their own country. Nevertheless the sympathies of the
people declared themselves with so much violence in behalf of
France that nothing but the inflexible character of Washington,
and the immense popularity which he enjoyed, could have prevented
the Americans from declaring war against England. And even then,
the exertions which the austere reason of that great man made to
repress the generous but imprudent passions of his
fellow-citizens, very nearly deprived him of the sole recompense
which he had ever claimed - that of his country's love. The
majority then reprobated the line of policy which he adopted, and
which has since been unanimously approved by the nation. *s If
the Constitution and the favor of the public had not entrusted
the direction of the foreign affairs of the country to
Washington, it is certain that the American nation would at that
time have taken the very measures which it now condemns.

[Footnote s: See the fifth volume of Marshall's "Life of
Washington." In a government constituted like that of the United
States," he says, "it is impossible for the chief magistrate,
however firm he may be, to oppose for any length of time the
torrent of popular opinion; and the prevalent opinion of that day
seemed to incline to war. In fact, in the session of Congress
held at the time, it was frequently seen that Washington had lost
the majority in the House of Representatives." The violence of
the language used against him in public was extreme, and in a
political meeting they did not scruple to compare him indirectly
to the treacherous Arnold. "By the opposition," says Marshall,
"the friends of the administration were declared to be an
aristocratic and corrupt faction, who, from a desire to introduce
monarchy, were hostile to France and under the influence of
Britain; that they were a paper nobility, whose extreme
sensibility at every measure which threatened the funds, induced
a tame submission to injuries and insults, which the interests
and honor of the nation required them to resist."]

Almost all the nations which have ever exercised a powerful
influence upon the destinies of the world by conceiving,
following up, and executing vast designs - from the Romans to the
English - have been governed by aristocratic institutions. Nor
will this be a subject of wonder when we recollect that nothing
in the world has so absolute a fixity of purpose as an
aristocracy. The mass of the people may be led astray by
ignorance or passion; the mind of a king may be biased, and his
perseverance in his designs may be shaken - besides which a king
is not immortal - but an aristocratic body is too numerous to be
led astray by the blandishments of intrigue, and yet not numerous
enough to yield readily to the intoxicating influence of
unreflecting passion: it has the energy of a firm and enlightened
individual, added to the power which it derives from perpetuity.

Chapter XIV: Advantages American Society Derive From Democracy -
Part I

What The Real Advantages Are Which American Society Derives From
The Government Of The Democracy

Before I enter upon the subject of the present chapter I am
induced to remind the reader of what I have more than once
adverted to in the course of this book. The political
institutions of the United States appear to me to be one of the
forms of government which a democracy may adopt; but I do not
regard the American Constitution as the best, or as the only one,
which a democratic people may establish. In showing the
advantages which the Americans derive from the government of
democracy, I am therefore very far from meaning, or from
believing, that similar advantages can only be obtained from the
same laws.

General Tendency Of The Laws Under The Rule Of The American
Democracy, And Habits Of Those Who Apply Them

Defects of a democratic government easy to be discovered - Its
advantages only to be discerned by long observation - Democracy
in America often inexpert, but the general tendency of the laws
advantageous - In the American democracy public officers have no
permanent interests distinct from those of the majority - Result
of this state of things.

The defects and the weaknesses of a democratic government
may very readily be discovered; they are demonstrated by the most
flagrant instances, whilst its beneficial influence is less
perceptibly exercised. A single glance suffices to detect its
evil consequences, but its good qualities can only be discerned
by long observation. The laws of the American democracy are
frequently defective or incomplete; they sometimes attack vested
rights, or give a sanction to others which are dangerous to the
community; but even if they were good, the frequent changes which
they undergo would be an evil. How comes it, then, that the
American republics prosper and maintain their position?

In the consideration of laws a distinction must be carefully
observed between the end at which they aim and the means by which
they are directed to that end, between their absolute and their
relative excellence. If it be the intention of the legislator to
favor the interests of the minority at the expense of the
majority, and if the measures he takes are so combined as to
accomplish the object he has in view with the least possible
expense of time and exertion, the law may be well drawn up,
although its purpose be bad; and the more efficacious it is, the
greater is the mischief which it causes.

Democratic laws generally tend to promote the welfare of the
greatest possible number; for they emanate from the majority of
the citizens, who are subject to error, but who cannot have an
interest opposed to their own advantage. The laws of an
aristocracy tend, on the contrary, to concentrate wealth and
power in the hands of the minority, because an aristocracy, by
its very nature,
constitutes a minority. It may therefore be asserted, as a
general proposition, that the purpose of a democracy in the
conduct of its legislation is useful to a greater number of
citizens than that of an aristocracy. This is, however, the sum
total of its advantages.

Aristocracies are infinitely more expert in the science of
legislation than democracies ever can be. They are possessed of
a self-control which protects them from the errors of temporary
excitement, and they form lasting designs which they mature with
the assistance of favorable opportunities. Aristocratic
government proceeds with the dexterity of art; it understands how
to make the collective force of all its laws converge at the same
time to a given point. Such is not the case with democracies,
whose laws are almost always ineffective or inopportune. The
means of democracy are therefore more imperfect than those of
aristocracy, and the measures which it unwittingly adopts are
frequently opposed to its own cause; but the object it has in
view is more useful.

Let us now imagine a community so organized by nature, or by
its constitution, that it can support the transitory action of
bad laws, and that it can await, without destruction, the general
tendency of the legislation: we shall then be able to conceive
that a democratic government, notwithstanding its defects, will
be most fitted to conduce to the prosperity of this community.
This is precisely what has occurred in the United States; and I
repeat, what I have before remarked, that the great advantage of
the Americans consists in their being able to commit faults which
they may afterward repair.

An analogous observation may be made respecting public
officers. It is easy to perceive that the American democracy
frequently errs in the choice of the individuals to whom it
entrusts the power of the administration; but it is more
difficult to say why the State prospers under their rule. In the
first place it is to be remarked, that if in a democratic State
the governors have less honesty and less capacity than elsewhere,
the governed, on the other hand, are more enlightened and more
attentive to their interests. As the people in democracies is
more incessantly vigilant in its affairs and more jealous of its
rights, it prevents its representatives from abandoning that
general line of conduct which its own interest prescribes. In
the second place, it must be remembered that if the democratic
magistrate is more apt to misuse his power, he possesses it for a
shorter period of time. But there is yet another reason which is
still more general and conclusive. It is no doubt of importance
to the welfare of nations that they should be governed by men of
talents and virtue; but it is perhaps still more important that
the interests of those men should not differ from the interests
of the community at large; for, if such were the case, virtues of
a high order might become useless, and talents might be turned to
a bad account. I say that it is important that the interests of
the persons in authority should not conflict with or oppose the
interests of the community at large; but I do not insist upon
their having the same interests as the whole population, because
I am not aware that such a state of things ever existed in any
country.

No political form has hitherto been discovered which is
equally favorable to the prosperity and the development of all
the classes into which society is divided. These classes
continue to form, as it were, a certain number of distinct
nations in the same nation; and experience has shown that it is
no less dangerous to place the fate of these classes exclusively
in the hands of any one of them than it is to make one people the
arbiter of the destiny of another. When the rich alone govern,
the interest of the poor is always endangered; and when the poor
make the laws, that of the rich incurs very serious risks. The
advantage of democracy does not consist, therefore, as has
sometimes been asserted, in favoring the prosperity of all, but
simply in contributing to the well-being of the greatest possible
number.

The men who are entrusted with the direction of public
affairs in the United States are frequently inferior, both in
point of capacity and of morality, to those whom aristocratic
institutions would raise to power. But their interest is
identified and confounded with that of the majority of their
fellow-citizens. They may frequently be faithless and frequently
mistaken, but they will never systematically adopt a line of
conduct opposed to the will of the majority; and it is impossible
that they should give a dangerous or an exclusive tendency to the
government.

The mal-administration of a democratic magistrate is a mere
isolated fact, which only occurs during the short period for
which he is elected. Corruption and incapacity do not act as
common interests, which may connect men permanently with one
another. A corrupt or an incapable magistrate will not concert
his measures with another magistrate, simply because that
individual is as corrupt and as incapable as himself; and these
two men will never unite their endeavors to promote the
corruption and inaptitude of their remote posterity. The
ambition and the manoeuvres of the one will serve, on the
contrary, to unmask the other. The vices of a magistrate, in
democratic states, are usually peculiar to his own person.

But under aristocratic governments public men are swayed by
the interest of their order, which, if it is sometimes confounded
with the interests of the majority, is very frequently distinct
from them. This interest is the common and lasting bond which
unites them together; it induces them to coalesce, and to combine
their efforts in order to attain an end which does not always
ensure the greatest happiness of the greatest number; and it
serves not only to connect the persons in authority, but to unite
them to a considerable portion of the community, since a numerous
body of citizens belongs to the aristocracy, without being
invested with official functions. The aristocratic magistrate is
therefore constantly supported by a portion of the community, as
well as by the Government of which he is a member.

The common purpose which connects the interest of the
magistrates in aristocracies with that of a portion of their
contemporaries identifies it with that of future generations;
their influence belongs to the future as much as to the present.
The aristocratic magistrate is urged at the same time toward the
same point by the passions of the community, by his own, and I
may almost add by those of his posterity. Is it, then, wonderful
that he does not resist such repeated impulses? And indeed
aristocracies are often carried away by the spirit of their order
without being corrupted by it; and they unconsciously fashion
society to their own ends, and prepare it for their own
descendants.

The English aristocracy is perhaps the most liberal which
ever existed, and no body of men has ever, uninterruptedly,
furnished so many honorable and enlightened individuals to the
government of a country. It cannot, however, escape observation
that in the legislation of England the good of the poor has been
sacrificed to the advantage of the rich, and the rights of the
majority to the privileges of the few. The consequence is, that
England, at the present day, combines the extremes of fortune in
the bosom of her society, and her perils and calamities are
almost equal to her power and her renown. *a

[Footnote a: [The legislation of England for the forty years is
certainly not fairly open to this criticism, which was written
before the Reform Bill of 1832, and accordingly Great Britain has
thus far escaped and surmounted the perils and calamities to
which she seemed to be exposed.]]

In the United States, where the public officers have no
interests to promote connected with their caste, the general and
constant influence of the Government is beneficial, although the
individuals who conduct it are frequently unskilful and sometimes
contemptible. There is indeed a secret tendency in democratic
institutions to render the exertions of the citizens subservient
to the prosperity of the community, notwithstanding their private
vices and mistakes; whilst in aristocratic institutions there is
a secret propensity which, notwithstanding the talents and the
virtues of those who conduct the government, leads them to
contribute to the evils which oppress their fellow-creatures. In
aristocratic governments public men may frequently do injuries
which they do not intend, and in democratic states they produce
advantages which they never thought of.

Public Spirit In The United States

Patriotism of instinct - Patriotism of reflection - Their
different characteristics - Nations ought to strive to acquire
the second when the first has disappeared - Efforts of the
Americans to it - Interest of the individual intimately connected
with that of the country.

There is one sort of patriotic attachment which principally
arises from that instinctive, disinterested, and undefinable
feeling which connects the affections of man with his birthplace.
This natural fondness is united to a taste for ancient customs,
and to a reverence for ancestral traditions of the past; those
who cherish it love their country as they love the mansions of
their fathers. They enjoy the tranquillity which it affords
them; they cling to the peaceful habits which they have
contracted within its bosom; they are attached to the
reminiscences which it awakens, and they are even pleased by the
state of obedience in which they are placed. This patriotism is
sometimes stimulated by religious enthusiasm, and then it is
capable of making the most prodigious efforts. It is in itself a
kind of religion; it does not reason, but it acts from the
impulse of faith and of sentiment. By some nations the monarch
has been regarded as a personification of the country; and the
fervor of patriotism being converted into the fervor of loyalty,
they took a sympathetic pride in his conquests, and gloried in
his power. At one time, under the ancient monarchy, the French
felt a sort of satisfaction in the sense of their dependence upon
the arbitrary pleasure of their king, and they were wont to say
with pride, "We are the subjects of the most powerful king in the
world."

But, like all instinctive passions, this kind of patriotism
is more apt to prompt transient exertion than to supply the
motives of continuous endeavor. It may save the State in
critical circumstances, but it will not unfrequently allow the
nation to decline in the midst of peace. Whilst the manners of a
people are simple and its faith unshaken, whilst society is
steadily based upon traditional institutions whose legitimacy has
never been contested, this instinctive patriotism is wont to
endure.

But there is another species of attachment to a country
which is more rational than the one we have been describing. It
is perhaps less generous and less ardent, but it is more fruitful
and more lasting; it is coeval with the spread of knowledge, it
is nurtured by the laws, it grows by the exercise of civil
rights, and, in the end, it is confounded with the personal
interest of the citizen. A man comprehends the influence which
the prosperity of his country has upon his own welfare; he is
aware that the laws authorize him to contribute his assistance to
that prosperity, and he labors to promote it as a portion of his
interest in the first place, and as a portion of his right in the
second.

But epochs sometimes occur, in the course of the existence
of a nation, at which the ancient customs of a people are
changed, public morality destroyed, religious belief disturbed,
and the spell of tradition broken, whilst the diffusion of
knowledge is yet imperfect, and the civil rights of the community
are ill secured, or confined within very narrow limits. The
country then assumes a dim and dubious shape in the eyes of the
citizens; they no longer behold it in the soil which they
inhabit, for that soil is to them a dull inanimate clod; nor in
the usages of their forefathers, which they have been taught to
look upon as a debasing yoke; nor in religion, for of that they
doubt; nor in the laws, which do not originate in their own
authority; nor in the legislator, whom they fear and despise.
The country is lost to their senses, they can neither discover it
under its own nor under borrowed features, and they entrench
themselves within the dull precincts of a narrow egotism. They
are emancipated from prejudice without having acknowledged the
empire of reason; they are neither animated by the instinctive
patriotism of monarchical subjects nor by the thinking patriotism
of republican citizens; but they have stopped halfway between the
two, in the midst of confusion and of distress.

In this predicament, to retreat is impossible; for a people
cannot restore the vivacity of its earlier times, any more than a
man can return to the innocence and the bloom of childhood; such
things may be regretted, but they cannot be renewed. The only
thing, then, which remains to be done is to proceed, and to
accelerate the union of private with public interests, since the
period of disinterested patriotism is gone by forever.

I am certainly very far from averring that, in order to
obtain this result, the exercise of political rights should be
immediately granted to all the members of the community. But I
maintain that the most powerful, and perhaps the only, means of
interesting men in the welfare of their country which we still
possess is to make them partakers in the Government. At the
present time civic zeal seems to me to be inseparable from the
exercise of political rights; and I hold that the number of
citizens will be found to augment or to decrease in Europe in
proportion as those rights are extended.

In the United States the inhabitants were thrown but as
yesterday upon the soil which they now occupy, and they brought
neither customs nor traditions with them there; they meet each
other for the first time with no previous acquaintance; in short,
the instinctive love of their country can scarcely exist in their
minds; but everyone takes as zealous an interest in the affairs
of his township, his county, and of the whole State, as if they
were his own, because everyone, in his sphere, takes an active
part in the government of society.

The lower orders in the United States are alive to the
perception of the influence exercised by the general prosperity
upon their own welfare; and simple as this observation is, it is
one which is but too rarely made by the people. But in America
the people regards this prosperity as the result of its own
exertions; the citizen looks upon the fortune of the public as
his private interest, and he co-operates in its success, not so
much from a sense of pride or of duty, as from what I shall
venture to term cupidity.

It is unnecessary to study the institutions and the history
of the Americans in order to discover the truth of this remark,
for their manners render it sufficiently evident. As the
American participates in all that is done in his country, he
thinks himself obliged to defend whatever may be censured; for it
is not only his country which is attacked upon these occasions,
but it is himself. The consequence is, that his national pride
resorts to a thousand artifices, and to all the petty tricks of
individual vanity.

Nothing is more embarrassing in the ordinary intercourse of
life than this irritable patriotism of the Americans. A stranger
may be very well inclined to praise many of the institutions of
their country, but he begs permission to blame some of the
peculiarities which he observes - a permission which is, however,
inexorably refused. America is therefore a free country, in
which, lest anybody should be hurt by your remarks, you are not
allowed to speak freely of private individuals, or of the State,
of the citizens or of the authorities, of public or of private
undertakings, or, in short, of anything at all, except it be of
the climate and the soil; and even then Americans will be found
ready to defend either the one or the other, as if they had been
contrived by the inhabitants of the country.

In our times option must be made between the patriotism of
all and the government of a few; for the force and activity which
the first confers are irreconcilable with the guarantees of
tranquillity which the second furnishes.

Notion Of Rights In The United States

No great people without a notion of rights - How the notion of
rights can be given to people - Respect of rights in the United
States - Whence it arises.

After the idea of virtue, I know no higher principle than
that of right; or, to speak more accurately, these two ideas are
commingled in one. The idea of right is simply that of virtue
introduced into the political world. It is the idea of right
which enabled men to define anarchy and tyranny; and which taught
them to remain independent without arrogance, as well as to obey
without servility. The man who submits to violence is debased by
his compliance; but when he obeys the mandate of one who
possesses that right of authority which he acknowledges in a
fellow-creature, he rises in some measure above the person who
delivers the command. There are no great men without virtue, and
there are no great nations - it may almost be added that there
would be no society - without the notion of rights; for what is
the condition of a mass of rational and intelligent beings who
are only united together by the bond of force?

I am persuaded that the only means which we possess at the
present time of inculcating the notion of rights, and of
rendering it, as it were, palpable to the senses, is to invest
all the members of the community with the peaceful exercise of
certain rights: this is very clearly seen in children, who are
men without the strength and the experience of manhood. When a
child begins to move in the midst of the objects which surround
him, he is instinctively led to turn everything which he can lay
his hands upon to his own purposes; he has no notion of the
property of others; but as he gradually learns the value of
things, and begins to perceive that he may in his turn be
deprived of his possessions, he becomes more circumspect, and he
observes those rights in others which he wishes to have respected
in himself. The principle which the child derives from the
possession of his toys is taught to the man by the objects which
he may call his own. In America those complaints against
property in general which are so frequent in Europe are never
heard, because in America there are no paupers; and as everyone
has property of his own to defend, everyone recognizes the
principle upon which he holds it.

The same thing occurs in the political world. In America
the lowest classes have conceived a very high notion of political
rights, because they exercise those rights; and they refrain from
attacking those of other people, in order to ensure their own
from attack. Whilst in Europe the same classes sometimes
recalcitrate even against the supreme power, the American submits
without a murmur to the authority of the pettiest magistrate.

This truth is exemplified by the most trivial details of
national peculiarities. In France very few pleasures are
exclusively reserved for the higher classes; the poor are
admitted wherever the rich are received, and they consequently
behave with propriety, and respect whatever contributes to the
enjoyments in which they themselves participate. In England,
where wealth has a monopoly of amusement as well as of power,
complaints are made that whenever the poor happen to steal into
the enclosures which are reserved for the pleasures of the rich,
they commit acts of wanton mischief: can this be wondered at,
since care has been taken that they should have nothing to lose?
*b

[Footnote b: [This, too, has been amended by much larger
provisions for the amusements of the people in public parks,
gardens, museums, etc.; and the conduct of the people in these
places of amusement has improved in the same proportion.]]

The government of democracy brings the notion of political
rights to the level of the humblest citizens, just as the
dissemination of wealth brings the notion of property within the
reach of all the members of the community; and I confess that, to
my mind, this is one of its greatest advantages. I do not assert
that it is easy to teach men to exercise political rights; but I
maintain that, when it is possible, the effects which result from
it are highly important; and I add that, if there ever was a time
at which such an attempt ought to be made, that time is our own.
It is clear that the influence of religious belief is shaken, and
that the notion of divine rights is declining; it is evident that
public morality is vitiated, and the notion of moral rights is
also disappearing: these are general symptoms of the substitution
of argument for faith, and of calculation for the impulses of
sentiment. If, in the midst of this general disruption, you do
not succeed in connecting the notion of rights with that of
personal interest, which is the only immutable point in the human
heart, what means will you have of governing the world except by
fear? When I am told that, since the laws are weak and the
populace is wild, since passions are excited and the authority of
virtue is paralyzed, no measures must be taken to increase the
rights of the democracy, I reply, that it is for these very
reasons that some measures of the kind must be taken; and I am
persuaded that governments are still more interested in taking
them than society at large, because governments are liable to be
destroyed and society cannot perish.

I am not, however, inclined to exaggerate the example which
America furnishes. In those States the people are invested with
political rights at a time when they could scarcely be abused,
for the citizens were few in number and simple in their manners.
As they have increased, the Americans have not augmented the
power of the democracy, but they have, if I may use the
expression, extended its dominions. It cannot be doubted that the
moment at which political rights are granted to a people that had
before been without them is a very critical, though it be a
necessary one. A child may kill before he is aware of the value
of life; and he may deprive another person of his property before
he is aware that his own may be taken away from him. The lower
orders, when first they are invested with political rights,
stand, in relation to those rights, in the same position as the
child does to the whole of nature, and the celebrated adage may
then be applied to them, Homo puer robustus. This truth may even
be perceived in America. The States in which the citizens have
enjoyed their rights longest are those in which they make the
best use of them.

It cannot be repeated too often that nothing is more fertile
in prodigies than the art of being free; but there is nothing
more arduous than the apprenticeship of liberty. Such is not the
case with despotic institutions: despotism often promises to make
amends for a thousand previous ills; it supports the right, it
protects the oppressed, and it maintains public order. The nation
is lulled by the temporary prosperity which accrues to it, until
it is roused to a sense of its own misery. Liberty, on the
contrary, is generally established in the midst of agitation, it
is perfected by civil discord, and its benefits cannot be
appreciated until it is already old.

Chapter XIV: Advantages American Society Derive From Democracy -
Part II

Respect For The Law In The United States

Respect of the Americans for the law - Parental affection which
they entertain for it - Personal interest of everyone to increase
the authority of the law.

It is not always feasible to consult the whole people,
either directly or indirectly, in the formation of the law; but
it cannot be denied that, when such a measure is possible the
authority of the law is very much augmented. This popular origin,
which impairs the excellence and the wisdom of legislation,
contributes prodigiously to increase its power. There is an
amazing strength in the expression of the determination of a
whole people, and when it declares itself the imagination of
those who are most inclined to contest it is overawed by its
authority. The truth of this fact is very well known by parties,
and they consequently strive to make out a majority whenever they
can. If they have not the greater number of voters on their
side, they assert that the true majority abstained from voting;
and if they are foiled even there, they have recourse to the body
of those persons who had no votes to give.

In the United States, except slaves, servants, and paupers
in the receipt of relief from the townships, there is no class of
persons who do not exercise the elective franchise, and who do
not indirectly contribute to make the laws. Those who design to
attack the laws must consequently either modify the opinion of
the nation or trample upon its decision.

A second reason, which is still more weighty, may be further
adduced; in the United States everyone is personally interested
in enforcing the obedience of the whole community to the law; for
as the minority may shortly rally the majority to its principles,
it is interested in professing that respect for the decrees of
the legislator which it may soon have occasion to claim for its
own. However irksome an enactment may be, the citizen of the
United States complies with it, not only because it is the work
of the majority, but because it originates in his own authority,
and he regards it as a contract to which he is himself a party.

In the United States, then, that numerous and turbulent
multitude does not exist which always looks upon the law as its
natural enemy, and accordingly surveys it with fear and with fear
and with distrust. It is impossible, on the other hand, not to
perceive that all classes display the utmost reliance upon the
legislation of their country, and that they are attached to it by
a kind of parental affection.

I am wrong, however, in saying all classes; for as in
America the European scale of authority is inverted, the wealthy
are there placed in a position analogous to that of the poor in
the Old World, and it is the opulent classes which frequently
look upon the law with suspicion. I have already observed that
the advantage of democracy is not, as has been sometimes
asserted, that it protects the interests of the whole community,
but simply that it protects those of the majority. In the United
States, where the poor rule, the rich have always some reason to
dread the abuses of their power. This natural anxiety of the rich
may produce a sullen dissatisfaction, but society is not
disturbed by it; for the same reason which induces the rich to
withhold their confidence in the legislative authority makes them
obey its mandates; their wealth, which prevents them from making
the law, prevents them from withstanding it. Amongst civilized
nations revolts are rarely excited, except by such persons as
have nothing to lose by them; and if the laws of a democracy are
not always worthy of respect, at least they always obtain it; for
those who usually infringe the laws have no excuse for not
complying with the enactments they have themselves made, and by
which they are themselves benefited, whilst the citizens whose
interests might be promoted by the infraction of them are
induced, by their character and their stations, to submit to the
decisions of the legislature, whatever they may be. Besides
which, the people in America obeys the law not only because it
emanates from the popular authority, but because that authority
may modify it in any points which may prove vexatory; a law is
observed because it is a self-imposed evil in the first place,
and an evil of transient duration in the second.

Activity Which Pervades All The Branches Of The Body Politic In
The United States; Influence Which It Exercises Upon Society

More difficult to conceive the political activity which pervades
the United States than the freedom and equality which reign there
-  The great activity which perpetually agitates the legislative
bodies is only an episode to the general activity - Difficult for
an American to confine himself to his own business - Political
agitation extends to all social intercourse - Commercial activity
of the Americans partly attributable to this cause - Indirect
advantages which society derives from a democratic government.

On passing from a country in which free institutions are
established to one where they do not exist, the traveller is
struck by the change; in the former all is bustle and activity,
in the latter everything is calm and motionless. In the one,
amelioration and progress are the general topics of inquiry; in
the other, it seems as if the community only aspired to repose in
the enjoyment of the advantages which it has acquired.
Nevertheless, the country which exerts itself so strenuously to
promote its welfare is generally more wealthy and more prosperous
than that which appears to be so contented with its lot; and when
we compare them together, we can scarcely conceive how so many
new wants are daily felt in the former, whilst so few seem to
occur in the latter.

If this remark is applicable to those free countries in
which monarchical and aristocratic institutions subsist, it is
still more striking with regard to democratic republics. In
these States it is not only a portion of the people which is
busied with the amelioration of its social condition, but the
whole community is engaged in the task; and it is not the
exigencies and the convenience of a single class for which a
provision is to be made, but the exigencies and the convenience
of all ranks of life.

It is not impossible to conceive the surpassing liberty
which the Americans enjoy; some idea may likewise be formed of
the extreme equality which subsists amongst them, but the
political activity which pervades the United States must be seen
in order to be understood. No sooner do you set foot upon the
American soil than you are stunned by a kind of tumult; a
confused clamor is heard on every side; and a thousand
simultaneous voices demand the immediate satisfaction of their
social wants. Everything is in motion around you; here, the
people of one quarter of a town are met to decide upon the
building of a church; there, the election of a representative is
going on; a little further the delegates of a district are
posting to the town in order to consult upon some local
improvements; or in another place the laborers of a village quit
their ploughs to deliberate upon the project of a road or a
public school. Meetings are called for the sole purpose of
declaring their disapprobation of the line of conduct pursued by
the Government; whilst in other assemblies the citizens salute
the authorities of the day as the fathers of their country.
Societies are formed which regard drunkenness as the principal
cause of the evils under which the State labors, and which
solemnly bind themselves to give a constant example of
temperance. *c

[Footnote c: At the time of my stay in the United States the
temperance societies already consisted of more than 270,000
members, and their effect had been to diminish the consumption of
fermented liquors by 500,000 gallons per annum in the State of
Pennsylvania alone.]

The great political agitation of the American legislative
bodies, which is the only kind of excitement that attracts the
attention of foreign countries, is a mere episode or a sort of
continuation of that universal movement which originates in the
lowest classes of the people and extends successively to all the
ranks of society. It is impossible to spend more efforts in the
pursuit of enjoyment.

The cares of political life engross a most prominent place
in the occupation of a citizen in the United States, and almost
the only pleasure of which an American has any idea is to take a
part in the Government, and to discuss the part he has taken.
This feeling pervades the most trifling habits of life; even the
women frequently attend public meetings and listen to political
harangues as a recreation after their household labors. Debating
clubs are to a certain extent a substitute for theatrical
entertainments: an American cannot converse, but he can discuss;
and when he attempts to talk he falls into a dissertation. He
speaks to you as if he was addressing a meeting; and if he should
chance to warm in the course of the discussion, he will
infallibly say, "Gentlemen," to the person with whom he is
conversing.

In some countries the inhabitants display a certain
repugnance to avail themselves of the political privileges with
which the law invests them; it would seem that they set too high
a value upon their time to spend it on the interests of the
community; and they prefer to withdraw within the exact limits of
a wholesome egotism, marked out by four sunk fences and a
quickset hedge. But if an American were condemned to confine his
activity to his own affairs, he would be robbed of one half of
his existence; he would feel an immense void in the life which he
is accustomed to lead, and his wretchedness would be unbearable.
*d I am persuaded that, if ever a despotic government is
established in America, it will find it more difficult to
surmount the habits which free institutions have engendered than
to conquer the attachment of the citizens to freedom.

[Footnote d: The same remark was made at Rome under the first
Caesars. Montesquieu somewhere alludes to the excessive
despondency of certain Roman citizens who, after the excitement
of political life, were all at once flung back into the
stagnation of private life.]

This ceaseless agitation which democratic government has
introduced into the political world influences all social
intercourse. I am not sure that upon the whole this is not the
greatest advantage of democracy. And I am much less inclined to
applaud it for what it does than for what it causes to be done.
It is incontestable that the people frequently conducts
public business very ill; but it is impossible that the lower
orders should take a part in public business without extending
the circle of their ideas, and without quitting the ordinary
routine of their mental acquirements. The humblest individual
who is called upon to co-operate in the government of society
acquires a certain degree of self-respect; and as he possesses
authority, he can command the services of minds much more
enlightened than his own. He is canvassed by a multitude of
applicants, who seek to deceive him in a thousand different ways,
but who instruct him by their deceit. He takes a part in
political undertakings which did not originate in his own
conception, but which give him a taste for undertakings of the
kind. New ameliorations are daily pointed out in the property
which he holds in common with others, and this gives him the
desire of improving that property which is more peculiarly his
own. He is perhaps neither happier nor better than those who
came before him, but he is better informed and more active. I
have no doubt that the democratic institutions of the United
States, joined to the physical constitution of the country, are
the cause (not the direct, as is so often asserted, but the
indirect cause) of the prodigious commercial activity of the
inhabitants. It is not engendered by the laws, but the people
learns how to promote it by the experience derived from
legislation.

When the opponents of democracy assert that a single
individual performs the duties which he undertakes much better
than the government of the community, it appears to me that they
are perfectly right. The government of an individual, supposing
an equality of instruction on either side, is more consistent,
more persevering, and more accurate than that of a multitude, and
it is much better qualified judiciously to discriminate the
characters of the men it employs. If any deny what I advance,
they have certainly never seen a democratic government, or have
formed their opinion upon very partial evidence. It is true that
even when local circumstances and the disposition of the people
allow democratic institutions to subsist, they never display a
regular and methodical system of government. Democratic liberty
is far from accomplishing all the projects it undertakes, with
the skill of an adroit despotism. It frequently abandons them
before they have borne their fruits, or risks them when the
consequences may prove dangerous; but in the end it produces more
than any absolute government, and if it do fewer things well, it
does a greater number of things. Under its sway the transactions
of the public administration are not nearly so important as what
is done by private exertion. Democracy does not confer the most
skilful kind of government upon the people, but it produces that
which the most skilful governments are frequently unable to
awaken, namely, an all-pervading and restless activity, a
superabundant force, and an energy which is inseparable from it,
and which may, under favorable circumstances, beget the most
amazing benefits. These are the true advantages of democracy.

In the present age, when the destinies of Christendom seem
to be in suspense, some hasten to assail democracy as its foe
whilst it is yet in its early growth; and others are ready with
their vows of adoration for this new deity which is springing
forth from chaos: but both parties are very imperfectly
acquainted with the object of their hatred or of their desires;
they strike in the dark, and distribute their blows by mere
chance.

We must first understand what the purport of society and the
aim of government is held to be. If it be your intention to
confer a certain elevation upon the human mind, and to teach it
to regard the things of this world with generous feelings, to
inspire men with a scorn of mere temporal advantage, to give
birth to living convictions, and to keep alive the spirit of
honorable devotedness; if you hold it to be a good thing to
refine the habits, to embellish the manners, to cultivate the
arts of a nation, and to promote the love of poetry, of beauty,
and of renown; if you would constitute a people not unfitted to
act with power upon all other nations, nor unprepared for those
high enterprises which, whatever be the result of its efforts,
will leave a name forever famous in time - if you believe such to
be the principal object of society, you must avoid the government
of democracy, which would be a very uncertain guide to the end
you have in view.

But if you hold it to be expedient to divert the moral and
intellectual activity of man to the production of comfort, and to
the acquirement of the necessaries of life; if a clear
understanding be more profitable to man than genius; if your
object be not to stimulate the virtues of heroism, but to create
habits of peace; if you had rather witness vices than crimes and
are content to meet with fewer noble deeds, provided offences be
diminished in the same proportion; if, instead of living in the
midst of a brilliant state of society, you are contented to have
prosperity around you; if, in short, you are of opinion that the
principal object of a Government is not to confer the greatest
possible share of power and of glory upon the body of the nation,
but to ensure the greatest degree of enjoyment and the least
degree of misery to each of the individuals who compose it - if
such be your desires, you can have no surer means of satisfying
them than by equalizing the conditions of men, and establishing
democratic institutions.

But if the time be passed at which such a choice was
possible, and if some superhuman power impel us towards one or
the other of these two governments without consulting our wishes,
let us at least endeavor to make the best of that which is
allotted to us; and let us so inquire into its good and its evil
propensities as to be able to foster the former and repress the
latter to the utmost.

Chapter XV: Unlimited Power Of Majority, And Its Consequences -
Part I

Chapter Summary

Natural strength of the majority in democracies - Most of the
American Constitutions have increased this strength by artificial
means - How this has been done - Pledged delegates - Moral power
of the majority - Opinion as to its infallibility - Respect for
its rights, how augmented in the United States.

Unlimited Power Of The Majority In The United States, And Its
Consequences

The very essence of democratic government consists in the
absolute sovereignty of the majority; for there is nothing in
democratic States which is capable of resisting it. Most of the
American Constitutions have sought to increase this natural
strength of the majority by artificial means. *a

[Footnote a: We observed, in examining the Federal Constitution,
that the efforts of the legislators of the Union had been
diametrically opposed to the present tendency. The consequence
has been that the Federal Government is more independent in its
sphere than that of the States. But the Federal Government
scarcely ever interferes in any but external affairs; and the
governments of the State are in the governments of the States are
in reality the authorities which direct society in America.]

The legislature is, of all political institutions, the one
which is most easily swayed by the wishes of the majority. The
Americans determined that the members of the legislature should
be elected by the people immediately, and for a very brief term,
in order to subject them, not only to the general convictions,
but even to the daily passion, of their constituents. The
members of both houses are taken from the same class in society,
and are nominated in the same manner; so that the modifications
of the legislative bodies are almost as rapid and quite as
irresistible as those of a single assembly. It is to a
legislature thus constituted that almost all the authority of the
government has been entrusted.

But whilst the law increased the strength of those
authorities which of themselves were strong, it enfeebled more
and more those which were naturally weak. It deprived the
representatives of the executive of all stability and
independence, and by subjecting them completely to the caprices
of the legislature, it robbed them of the slender influence which
the nature of a democratic government might have allowed them to
retain. In several States the judicial power was also submitted
to the elective discretion of the majority, and in all of them
its existence was made to depend on the pleasure of the
legislative authority, since the representatives were empowered
annually to regulate the stipend of the judges.

Custom, however, has done even more than law. A proceeding
which will in the end set all the guarantees of representative
government at naught is becoming more and more general in the
United States; it frequently happens that the electors, who
choose a delegate, point out a certain line of conduct to him,
and impose upon him a certain number of positive obligations
which he is pledged to fulfil. With the exception of the tumult,
this comes to the same thing as if the majority of the populace
held its deliberations in the market-place.

Several other circumstances concur in rendering the power of
the majority in America not only preponderant, but irresistible.
The moral authority of the majority is partly based upon the
notion that there is more intelligence and more wisdom in a great
number of men collected together than in a single individual, and
that the quantity of legislators is more important than their
quality. The theory of equality is in fact applied to the
intellect of man: and human pride is thus assailed in its last
retreat by a doctrine which the minority hesitate to admit, and
in which they very slowly concur. Like all other powers, and
perhaps more than all other powers, the authority of the many
requires the sanction of time; at first it enforces obedience by
constraint, but its laws are not respected until they have long
been maintained.

The right of governing society, which the majority supposes
itself to derive from its superior intelligence, was introduced
into the United States by the first settlers, and this idea,
which would be sufficient of itself to create a free nation, has
now been amalgamated with the manners of the people and the minor
incidents of social intercourse.

The French, under the old monarchy, held it for a maxim
(which is still a fundamental principle of the English
Constitution) that the King could do no wrong; and if he did do
wrong, the blame was imputed to his advisers. This notion was
highly favorable to habits of obedience, and it enabled the
subject to complain of the law without ceasing to love and honor
the lawgiver. The Americans entertain the same opinion with
respect to the majority.

The moral power of the majority is founded upon yet another
principle, which is, that the interests of the many are to be
preferred to those of the few. It will readily be perceived that
the respect here professed for the rights of the majority must
naturally increase or diminish according to the state of parties.
When a nation is divided into several irreconcilable factions,
the privilege of the majority is often overlooked, because it is
intolerable to comply with its demands.

If there existed in America a class of citizens whom the
legislating majority sought to deprive of exclusive privileges
which they had possessed for ages, and to bring down from an
elevated station to the level of the ranks of the multitude, it
is probable that the minority would be less ready to comply with
its laws. But as the United States were colonized by men holding
equal rank amongst themselves, there is as yet no natural or
permanent source of dissension between the interests of its
different inhabitants.

There are certain communities in which the persons who
constitute the minority can never hope to draw over the majority
to their side, because they must then give up the very point
which is at issue between them. Thus, an aristocracy can never
become a majority whilst it retains its exclusive privileges, and
it cannot cede its privileges without ceasing to be an
aristocracy.

In the United States political questions cannot be taken up
in so general and absolute a manner, and all parties are willing
to recognize the right of the majority, because they all hope to
turn those rights to their own advantage at some future time.
The majority therefore in that country exercises a prodigious
actual authority, and a moral influence which is scarcely less
preponderant; no obstacles exist which can impede or so much as
retard its progress, or which can induce it to heed the
complaints of those whom it crushes upon its path. This state of
things is fatal in itself and dangerous for the future.

How The Unlimited Power Of The Majority Increases In America The
Instability Of Legislation And Administration Inherent In
Democracy The Americans increase the mutability of the laws which
is inherent in democracy by changing the legislature every year,
and by investing it with unbounded authority - The same effect is
produced upon the administration - In America social amelioration
is conducted more energetically but less perseveringly than in
Europe.

I have already spoken of the natural defects of democratic
institutions, and they all of them increase at the exact ratio of
the power of the majority. To begin with the most evident of them
all; the mutability of the laws is an evil inherent in democratic
government, because it is natural to democracies to raise men to
power in very rapid succession. But this evil is more or less
sensible in proportion to the authority and the means of action
which the legislature possesses.

In America the authority exercised by the legislative bodies
is supreme; nothing prevents them from accomplishing their wishes
with celerity, and with irresistible power, whilst they are
supplied by new representatives every year. That is to say, the
circumstances which contribute most powerfully to democratic
instability, and which admit of the free application of caprice
to every object in the State, are here in full operation. In
conformity with this principle, America is, at the present day,
the country in the world where laws last the shortest time.
Almost all the American constitutions have been amended within
the course of thirty years: there is therefore not a single
American State which has not modified the principles of its
legislation in that lapse of time. As for the laws themselves, a
single glance upon the archives of the different States of the
Union suffices to convince one that in America the activity of
the legislator never slackens. Not that the American democracy is
naturally less stable than any other, but that it is allowed to
follow its capricious propensities in the formation of the laws.
*b

[Footnote b: The legislative acts promulgated by the State of
Massachusetts alone, from the year 1780 to the present time,
already fill three stout volumes; and it must not be forgotten
that the collection to which I allude was published in 1823, when
many old laws which had fallen into disuse were omitted. The
State of Massachusetts, which is not more populous than a
department of France, may be considered as the most stable, the
most consistent, and the most sagacious in its undertakings of
the whole Union.]

The omnipotence of the majority, and the rapid as well as
absolute manner in which its decisions are executed in the United
States, has not only the effect of rendering the law unstable,
but it exercises the same influence upon the execution of the law
and the conduct of the public administration. As the majority is
the only power which it is important to court, all its projects
are taken up with the greatest ardor, but no sooner is its
attention distracted than all this ardor ceases; whilst in the
free States of Europe the administration is at once independent
and secure, so that the projects of the legislature are put into
execution, although its immediate attention may be directed to
other objects.

In America certain ameliorations are undertaken with much
more zeal and activity than elsewhere; in Europe the same ends
are promoted by much less social effort, more continuously
applied.

Some years ago several piou