The Difficulties of Democracy
Joseph Dana Miller
[Reprinted in Land and Freedom,
September-October 1937
from the International Journal of Ethics]
Joseph Dana Miller was during this period
Editor of Land and Freedom. Many of the editorials
published were unsigned. It is therefore possible that Miller was
not the author of this article, although the content is thought to
be consistent with his own perspectives as Editor. |
"Of all forms of government democracy is the most
difficult." Sir Henry Sumner Maine.
"The difficulties of popular government which arise from the
modern military spirit and from the modern growth of irreconcilable
parties could not perhaps have been determined without actual
experience. But there are other difficulties which might have been
divined because they proceed from the inherent nature of democracy."
Sir Henry Sumner Maine.
Democracy contemplates no more than other forms of government all
seek to justify themselves as serving best the happiness of the
people. Democracy claims for itself no other raison d'etre than a
tempered monarchy or an honest despotism. We have learned that it is
best that power should proceed from below rather than from above, and
that it is not safe to vest large powers in any branch of government
or any group of persons. And we trust that the practical application
of this theory of government will give us all greater happiness, and
that civilization and progress are indissolubly connected with it.
Yet what we have termed the difficulties of democracy remain. We have
assumed that what stands in its path are obstacles placed there by its
foes, when in fact the chief difficulties are inherent in democracy
itself. We have assumed that all that it was necessary to do was to
place power in the hands of the people, and liberty would be an
accomplished fact. We have assumed that democracy would be attained by
smashing institutions that impeded it, and that all the rest was a
triumphant march.
But democracy is not so much a system of people's power as a state of
social consciousness. But even with this all is not attained, since
the practical difficulties that remain, defects of knowledge,
unconscious bias, failure of governmental machinery, or the natural
propensity of men to grasp power and of others to yield power to those
who authoritatively assert it, are appalling to whoever will think of
the possibility of a pure democracy.
It is seldom we reflect how young democracy really is. We look in
vain for any satisfactory democratic teachings among the most eminent
of the philosophers and thinkers. Democratic tendencies in their
writings we may discern readily enough, with suggestions for more
liberal laws, but of democracy, as we of today understand it as a
fundamental concept, hardly a trace. It might be thought that here and
there some thinker philosophically detached from his times would have
announced the discovery of democratic tenets. But no. Aristotle, who
discovered more than one important law of human association, could
never get away from the institution of slavery, founding the argument
for its necessity upon the deceptive analogy of the subordination of
body to soul, of appetite to intellect, of the lower animals to man,
and save the mark! of females to males. We search the often
illuminating but always confused pages of Aristotle's "Politics"
for what we of today know as democracy. Even Milton's ideal republic
was an aristocracy. The real teachers of democracy have only been
rescued from obscurity within a time to which the memory of men now
living may travel back. Even great democrats like Mazzini have not yet
come into their own.
Democracy is thus without a body of doctrine to which it may
successfully appeal. Nor has it anything but the most imperfect
historic examples at which to point. The democracy of Athens was a
rather exclusive government of intellectuals based on slavery; the
republican cities of the Adriatic and even the Swiss cantons were
administered in accordance with aristocratic principles; even
Cromwell's commonwealth was a modified dictatorship. The French
Revolution alone at its inception provided the world with an example
of democracy, but it was more an aspiration than an experience.
It has been said that "the remedy for the ills of democracy is
more democracy." There is truth in this, but not the whole truth.
Those who are perplexed or disappointed at the results of democracy
should realize that the course of development through which
civilizations and peoples must pass as analogous to that which
confronts the infant learning to walk. Democracy will stumble and lean
upon rotten pillars long before it learns to walk alone. Like the
Israelites it will return every now and then to its idols, and set up
brazen images of demagogues before which it will prostrate itself, so
that the very friends of democracy will despair of its future.
The ills of democracy, then, are not all to be remedied by more
democracy. For they are inherent in democracy. The methods by which it
seeks to express itself will be found to be halting, inarticulate,
stammering. Universal suffrage will not of itself bring democracy any
nearer, nor will the Initiative, Referendum and Recall. For these
offer no guaranty that the rights of minorities will be any safer.
Indeed there seems to be some reason for believing that the rights of
minorities have been established and secured in fundamental law, by
constitutional and court decisions in the making of which majorities
have had little or nothing to do.
Until democracy shall agree as to what democracy is we shall not move
any nearer to its attainment. We have certain democratic shibboleths
such as "All men are born equal," "Governments derive
their just powers from the consent of the governed," and "No
taxation without representation." We have of course never lived
up to any of them. We denied the first by the institution of slavery,
the second by our policy in the Philippines, the third by the denial
to women of the suffrage. Democracy is like religion; men seldom live
up to its professions.
If we have learned to believe whole-heartedly in democracy, wherefore
our distrust of her? Is it that our doubts speak more strongly than
our faith? We hear that China has become a republic, or that the
Persians have established a parliamentary form of government. We
sympathize, but we do so with caution. We say: It may be well to wait.
Maybe they are not yet ready for democracy. "Not ready for
democracy?" says someone, indignantly; "are not the ills of
democracy to be cured by more democracy?" Maybe; but then again
it may be best to wait. There was Mexico with her Madero the history
is too recent to need more than just its mention. Perhaps democracy is
a lesson to be learned, learned through suffering and travail reached
through long and tortuous journeying.* Maybe it is not something that
springs full-armed and perfected like Minerva from the head of
Jupiter. Maybe the cure for the ills of democracy is not only more
democracy, but more knowledge and more love.
Why not recognize that democracy grows only as public opinion grows
in intelligence and toleration? Public opinion as a governing force
was born hardly more than a hundred years ago. Its advent was heralded
in France by the ferment of revolution, in America by the Declaration
of Independence, in England by the Reform Bills. But none, even among
the more intelligent and well-meaning statesmen of the time anterior
to this, reckoned with public opinion as a governing force. For there
was no such thing. Government to the masses of men merely personified
itself in the ruling power, and all but the very few were gathered
under the personal standards now of one leader, and now of another.
Perhaps conservatives and democrats do not differ so much as to the
right of public opinion to govern in the modern constitutional state.
Where they differ is rather on the question of the distribution of
power, one side holding that the interests of the state are best
conserved by powers lodged with the possessors of a moderate amount of
property. The argument is that the stability of the state is thus more
fully assured. It must not be forgotten that even the ideals of an
aristocracy really contemplate the public welfare, however inimical to
such ideals may be the practical administration of the aristocratic
state.
Let it be remembered that no a priori justification of democracy can
be entertained. Let us dismiss from our minds all such predilection
founded upon early education, frothy sentiment, or the rhodomontade of
the mere demagogue. Aristocracy and democracy seeking the same goal
urge different paths to its attainment. Let us test each working
method by its results. We shall find that aristocracy has failed to
justify itself. But we shall not there- fore conclude that democracy
is not without its grave difficulties. We shall find that these are
many, that it has not fulfilled its promises, and that of all
governments it is the one most prone to respond to the weaknesses of
humanity and to fall below the highest tests of intellectual worth.
The friends of democracy have failed in not always clearly
formulating the relations of democracy to the individual. So they have
been compelled to face the sneers of their opponents at "the
sacred fifty-one per cent," and the more serious arguments cited
from the known tyrannies of majorities. There have been real friends
of liberty who have distrusted democracy because they have
contemplated it from only one side, having favorable eyes only for
those forms of liberty that have been imposed upon the masses by the
gifted individuals of the race. They have not duly considered those
forms of liberty which have developed from below the most lasting ones
indeed rising from the barely articulate aspirations of the masses and
resistlessly impelling the living currents of our progress. From this
partial view of the advance of the race has arisen the age- long
controversy between the friends of democracy and those of its
opponents who have loved liberty quite as sincerely.
Even majority rule itself is not a principle; it is working method
only. It is better that the majority should rule even when wrong. For
the minority, "the saving remnant," may not hope to control
a corrupt or ignorant majority any more than that same majority may
hope to rise at once out of its ignorance and corruption. But it will
rise out of it in time. Time is the important element.
As Matthew Arnold has said in that wonderful essay entitled "Numbers";
"Immanuel and His reign, for the eighth century before Christ,
were fantastic. Immanuel and the remnant could not come to reign under
the conditions there and then offered them ; the thing was impossible."
For, of course, though we accept majority rule as a working method,
it is no more true than it ever was that the majority really govern.
For "the saving remnant," the active, enlightened,
progressive spirits of a community, are under majority rule its real
governors if they are numerically powerful enough. Society presents
itself somewhat in this light as regards its governing elements. Two
dominant forces confront each other, one with the lust of
self-aggrandisement fortified by shrewd intellectual purpose and the
possession of special privilege, the other armed chiefly with moral
power seeking a better state. Between these two battling elements,
which are the real forces of social government, are the majority under
universal suffrage, sitting as arbiters or jury, animated by passions
and impulses noble or the reverse, and swayed now by one side and now
by the other.
Consider the course of elections. We imagine the issues are fairly
and clearly drawn. These may be the tariff, anti-imperialism, the
currency what you will. The campaign draws to a close; we are on the
very eve of the day when these questions are to be decided by vote.
What can be clearer than that they are to be determined in accordance
with democratic methods and procedure by the vote of all the people?
The final decision may not be a wise one, but we are at least to have
an authoritative vote on great questions of party policy which the
people have gravely weighed and considered.
But to what degree are these questions so decided? We have all heard
of "the psychology of the crowd." Some "Burchardism"
or Morey Letter Forgery, some belated or scandalous rumor affecting
the private life of the candidate sprung at the last moment in the
campaign, too late to be successfully refuted, decides the issue, and
a great party is swept from power and great and momentous policies
deferred. These frequently, and not the issues, are the explanation of
the recurring swing of the political pendulum.
It is impossible even to indicate the infinite number of
considerations consisting of prejudices, friendships, traditions,
sudden apprehensions, et al, that determine elections. We think the
issues determine them. But to the extent to which these considerations
tend to obscure the "issues" are we face to face with what I
have called "the difficulties of democracy."
What are the motives which chiefly animate the voters at election
time? Men do not vote because of questions of small gains for
themselves. This is why the democratic party appeal for the remission
of tariff taxes was so long unavailing. Voters even when they had lost
faith in protection, were not greatly concerned if sugar cost a penny
more per pound, or cloth a few cents more per yard. Nor had they the
patience to follow the argument for increased production and commerce
through the remission of these taxes. But what seems a hopeless view
of the possibilities of democracy in considering the apathy of the
citizens in the mass on questions such as these is in reality its
chief hope. For men in the mass are mainly influenced by their
considerations of right and wrong. Only in this way can they be
strongly moved; and it is this ground that is the practical
justification of a working democracy.
The friends of the Initiative and Referendum think to solve these
difficulties by a system of direct voting upon measures. But they have
borrowed new difficulties for those discarded. For as Austin has
pointed out in his "Jurisprudence," while the people are
good judges of the moral principles involved in legislation they are
poor judges of the practical results of law-making.
The proceedings of a legislature involve the consideration of
thousands of bills, on only a small percentage of which can
representatives be said to have expressed an opinion. Not infrequently
it happens that legislatures are called upon to pass upon questions
which were not at all questions in preceding elections. In such cases
legislators must pass upon matters in relation to which they have
received no instructions.
But the difficulty does not end here. Social relations have become so
complex that highly technical statutes have to be framed to regulate
them, and the ordinary legislature in the nature of things is made up
of men who are only partially educated in the meaning of legal
phraseology. They are therefore compelled to accept the
interpretations furnished by people who are not disinterested. This
state of affairs gives the "lobby" its power. Sometimes the "lobby"
is made up of agents of special interests and sometimes of men
employed by more or less public spirited bodies seeking their ends for
what they believe to be the public welfare. These are the men who try
to have legislators accept their interpretation of the laws they are
called upon to enact. And it is upon such representation that laws are
passed, for it may well be doubted whether any laws are fully
understood by even a small minority of the men who enact them.
The difficulty is not diminished but rather increased by referring
such matters to referendum. For there will be lobbyists for the people
as well as for the legislators. The great mass of the people can no
more comprehend the language of proposed laws than can their
representatives. They must take the explanation of those who set
themselves up as guides of public opinion. And very often such men are
as untrustworthy as any other.
Theoretically we conceive of democracy as a system in which all men
shall have a voice in determining the character of the laws under
which we live. But how shall we exercise this power directly or
indirectly? If indirectly there is danger that the reins of government
will slip into the hands of privilege, and the laws become in reality
government by the few. Perceiving this the friends of the Initiative
and Referendum would resort to direct legislation. But the difficulty
of obtaining an expression of their will from democracies composed of
widely differing social elements must be recognized. The numbers to be
reckoned with are one difficulty; local interests are another;
unreasoning party traditions another; the failure of all but a few
minds to grasp the essentials of legislative proposals is another.
These difficulties are increased rather than diminished by the method
of submitting such measures to popular vote.
One of the gravest objections to the continuous direct appeal to the
people on legislative matters, in addition to the unnecessary strain
it puts upon democracy, is the fact that men in the mass are not
influenced by reason, but by emotion and sentiment. This is not a fact
upon which we need to commiserate humanity, but one indeed over which
to exult, since it enables mankind more clearly to apprehend the
abstract principles of Justice, Freedom and Right, before which the
unaided reason is apt to falter. But the concrete matters of
legislation that need for their proper consideration the colder
calculations of precedent and incidence, are not so easily resolvable
by men acting through the ballot. Deliberate analysis is not possible
to the many acting in this way. Plebiscites will be much nearer to the
moral truth of a great principle than to its concrete application.
Another of the difficulties, of democracy is the selection of the
right men to direct affairs. The honesty and efficiency of official
functionaries are as important as the laws. Even good laws may be
administered by incapable officials in a way to nullify them, and if
laws are bad it is really better that we have honest men to enforce
them, since the baneful effects of such laws will then be more clearly
shown. This is a phase of democracy which our too enthusiastic friends
of the Initiative and Referendum too often ignore. As important as our
legislation therefore is the character of our nominating system.
Largely because of prevailing nominating systems political power
tends to gravitate into the hands of groups of men at the head of
which we find the "boss," that phenomenon of democracy who
is yet its antithesis. It is the few the more gifted who must lead in
science and literature. Correspondingly, a few must lead in the
politics of a democracy, but owing to the immaturity of political
thought, these are not the highly gifted nor even the highly moral
Another danger is the tendency of large industrial, (especially of
semi-public,) corporations, to assert a power independent of the
state. This is peculiarly the case with those corporations which
possess powers to exclude competition, either by the nature of the
functions they perform, or by the direct conferring upon them of such
powers by the state. Democracies are less vigilant in detecting such
forms of infringement which stronger governments, being jealous of
their prerogatives, are quick to suppress. Until democracy shall
perceive the nature and use of public functions, and the degree of
ownership or control it may safely and legitimately exercise over
them, they must remain a constant menace to the stability and
continuance of democracy.
It is useless to deny, too, that the checks and balances which from
the very beginnings of government have been urged as essential, were
not intended to guard democracies from a danger that is very real the
power that tends to further increase of power and because of this,
that one branch of government tends constantly to usurp functions
which belong to other branches.
If it be the tendency of power to aggrandize power, then it must be
no less true of majorities than minorities. Democracies with universal
suffrage, unenlightened by the severest knowledge, are likely to
encroach upon the liberties of minorities. Indeed this is one of the
chief difficulties to be guarded against. Though liberty is always to
be preferred, liberty without knowledge must degenerate into license,
and hence the inevitable reactions and loss of liberty. The remedy is
not in those self imposed restraints upon democracy, but in the
enlightenment without which democracy is no more to be preferred than
any other form of government.
Party spirit is another of the difficulties of democracy. It is a
melancholy history, that of the United States in the more than fifty
years of domination by the superstition of party loyalty. It is no
exaggeration to say that the long life of both the Federals and Whigs,
as well as that of the Republican and Democratic parties in later
years, was due neither to the merits of the arguments advanced, nor to
any far-sighted leadership of party statesmen.
It is well that we learn in the consideration of this subject that
forms of government have not the importance they seem to have.
Democratic forms do not of themselves insure democracy. That is,
unconsciously, the very grounds of the objection on which the
opponents of universal suffrage rest their case, and the friends of
universal suffrage, in combating the arguments of their opponents,
miss the point in the same way. For universal suffrage is not
democracy, but only one of the modes to its attainment.
And now we come to the most serious of all the difficulties that
democracy must face. Given an electorate with a large proportion of
its members steeped in poverty, and thus open to the temptation of
bribery, neither universal suffrage, direct legislation, nor any
perfection of purely political forms in the direction of democracy,
will avail. Where opportunities for employment are a boon for which
men must struggle and sue, and are thus the easy prey of vote-buyers
on election day, or demagogues with their insidious appeal at all
times, the forms of democracy may indeed exist, but the spirit has
long since fled.
Despite some appearances to the contrary we have not yet passed this
danger. Our friends of the Direct Legislation movement tell us that "You
can buy the legislature, but you cannot buy the people." But
unfortunately we have more than one example of purchasable
electorates. Then, too, electorates are open to certain insidious
forms of appeal even when not directly purchasable, to which
legislatures are immune. This is obviously true when the balance of
power is in the hands of those whose bitter necessities make a few
dollars on election day, or some little job with the city government,
a great temptation. It is not necessary that the entire community
should be corrupt; a small number may often be sufficient to decide
the issue between democracy on the one hand, and demagoguery or
plutocracy on the other. These elements in a democracy constitute its
constant menace.
Until society is composed of men and women who have sufficient
leisure to study and digest public questions the will of the majority
can be little more than the cry of the demagogue. Most people, as
society is now constituted, cannot pass intelligently upon general
legislative questions. Nor can these questions be safely left to any
class in the community, as history abundantly testifies. Power so
lodged has always been used for the selfish interest of the ruling
class.
Hence the hope of a true democracy must consist in struggling toward
a society in which the masses of men will have such living conditions
as will permit them to devote much of the energy now directed to
making a livelihood to the determination of public questions.
It may be objected that men who have abundant leisure do not now so
occupy their minds. But this objection holds good only as leisure is a
limited and not a general possession. Poverty and wealth are alike
temptations to dissipation, in one case to woo forgetfulness, in the
other to occupy idleness.
It may be safely affirmed that democracy is only possible under
conditions where inequalities of fortune are not greater than
inequality of human intelligence and character. A system which tends
to accentuate human inequality by giving to him that hath while
robbing him who is poorly endowed makes democratic government
impossible or impotent to work out its true destiny.
In conclusion, reasoners for or against democracy know nothing of its
true genesis, its actual life, or its real significance who know not
the Economic Man. Political democracy is conditioned upon economic
independence, is influenced by the flux of social forces more than by
governmental forms. A portion of the people deprived of the
opportunity of making a livelihood the unemployed have more power to
determine whether democracies shall live or die than the most
perfectly framed hypothesis of your political reformer. For not on
forms does democracy so much depend as on the relation of Man to his
Job. Those who would establish democracy must found it on the equality
of economic opportunity.
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