Democracy In America, Volume 1 (of 2)

A >> Alexis de Toqueville >> Democracy In America, Volume 1 (of 2)


This is precisely what occurred in America; when the democratic party
got the upper hand, it took exclusive possession of the conduct of
affairs, and from that time the laws and the customs of society have
been adapted to its caprices. At the present day the more affluent
classes of society are so entirely removed from the direction of
political affairs in the United States that wealth, far from conferring
a right to the exercise of power, is rather an obstacle than a means of
attaining to it. The wealthy members of the community abandon the lists,
through unwillingness to contend, and frequently to contend in vain,
against the poorest classes of their fellow citizens. They concentrate
all their enjoyments in the privacy of their homes, where they occupy
a rank which cannot be assumed in public; and they constitute a private
society in the State, which has its own tastes and its own pleasures.
They submit to this state of things as an irremediable evil, but they
are careful not to show that they are galled by its continuance; it
is even not uncommon to hear them laud the delights of a republican
government, and the advantages of democratic institutions when they
are in public. Next to hating their enemies, men are most inclined to
flatter them.

Mark, for instance, that opulent citizen, who is as anxious as a Jew of
the Middle Ages to conceal his wealth. His dress is plain, his demeanor
unassuming; but the interior of his dwelling glitters with luxury, and
none but a few chosen guests whom he haughtily styles his equals are
allowed to penetrate into this sanctuary. No European noble is more
exclusive in his pleasures, or more jealous of the smallest advantages
which his privileged station confers upon him. But the very same
individual crosses the city to reach a dark counting-house in the centre
of traffic, where every one may accost him who pleases. If he meets his
cobbler upon the way, they stop and converse; the two citizens discuss
the affairs of the State in which they have an equal interest, and they
shake hands before they part.

But beneath this artificial enthusiasm, and these obsequious attentions
to the preponderating power, it is easy to perceive that the wealthy
members of the community entertain a hearty distaste to the democratic
institutions of their country. The populace is at once the object
of their scorn and of their fears. If the maladministration of the
democracy ever brings about a revolutionary crisis, and if monarchical
institutions ever become practicable in the United States, the truth of
what I advance will become obvious.

The two chief weapons which parties use in order to ensure success are
the public press and the formation of associations.




Chapter XI: Liberty Of The Press In The United States

Chapter Summary

Difficulty of restraining the liberty of the press--Particular reasons
which some nations have to cherish this liberty--The liberty of the
press a necessary consequence of the sovereignty of the people as it is
understood in America--Violent language of the periodical press in the
United States--Propensities of the periodical press--Illustrated by the
United States--Opinion of the Americans upon the repression of the abuse
of the liberty of the press by judicial prosecutions--Reasons for which
the press is less powerful in America than in France.

Liberty Of The Press In The United States

The influence of the liberty of the press does not affect political
opinions alone, but it extends to all the opinions of men, and it
modifies customs as well as laws. In another part of this work I shall
attempt to determinate the degree of influence which the liberty of
the press has exercised upon civil society in the United States, and to
point out the direction which it has given to the ideas, as well as the
tone which it has imparted to the character and the feelings, of the
Anglo-Americans, but at present I purpose simply to examine the effects
produced by the liberty of the press in the political world.

I confess that I do not entertain that firm and complete attachment to
the liberty of the press which things that are supremely good in their
very nature are wont to excite in the mind; and I approve of it more
from a recollection of the evils it prevents than from a consideration
of the advantages it ensures.

If any one could point out an intermediate and yet a tenable position
between the complete independence and the entire subjection of the
public expression of opinion, I should perhaps be inclined to adopt it;
but the difficulty is to discover this position. If it is your intention
to correct the abuses of unlicensed printing and to restore the use of
orderly language, you may in the first instance try the offender by
a jury; but if the jury acquits him, the opinion which was that of a
single individual becomes the opinion of the country at large. Too much
and too little has therefore hitherto been done. If you proceed, you
must bring the delinquent before a court of permanent judges. But even
here the cause must be heard before it can be decided; and the very
principles which no book would have ventured to avow are blazoned
forth in the pleadings, and what was obscurely hinted at in a single
composition is then repeated in a multitude of other publications.
The language in which a thought is embodied is the mere carcass of the
thought, and not the idea itself; tribunals may condemn the form, but
the sense and spirit of the work is too subtle for their authority. Too
much has still been done to recede, too little to attain your end; you
must therefore proceed. If you establish a censorship of the press, the
tongue of the public speaker will still make itself heard, and you have
only increased the mischief. The powers of thought do not rely, like the
powers of physical strength, upon the number of their mechanical agents,
nor can a host of authors be reckoned like the troops which compose an
army; on the contrary, the authority of a principle is often increased
by the smallness of the number of men by whom it is expressed. The
words of a strong-minded man, which penetrate amidst the passions of a
listening assembly, have more power than the vociferations of a thousand
orators; and if it be allowed to speak freely in any public place,
the consequence is the same as if free speaking was allowed in every
village. The liberty of discourse must therefore be destroyed as well
as the liberty of the press; this is the necessary term of your efforts;
but if your object was to repress the abuses of liberty, they have
brought you to the feet of a despot. You have been led from the extreme
of independence to the extreme of subjection without meeting with a
single tenable position for shelter or repose.

There are certain nations which have peculiar reasons for cherishing the
liberty of the press, independently of the general motives which I have
just pointed out. For in certain countries which profess to enjoy the
privileges of freedom every individual agent of the Government may
violate the laws with impunity, since those whom he oppresses cannot
prosecute him before the courts of justice. In this case the liberty of
the press is not merely a guarantee, but it is the only guarantee, of
their liberty and their security which the citizens possess. If the
rulers of these nations propose to abolish the independence of the
press, the people would be justified in saying: Give us the right of
prosecuting your offences before the ordinary tribunals, and perhaps we
may then waive our right of appeal to the tribunal of public opinion.

But in the countries in which the doctrine of the sovereignty of the
people ostensibly prevails, the censorship of the press is not only
dangerous, but it is absurd. When the right of every citizen to
co-operate in the government of society is acknowledged, every citizen
must be presumed to possess the power of discriminating between the
different opinions of his contemporaries, and of appreciating the
different facts from which inferences may be drawn. The sovereignty of
the people and the liberty of the press may therefore be looked upon
as correlative institutions; just as the censorship of the press and
universal suffrage are two things which are irreconcilably opposed, and
which cannot long be retained among the institutions of the same people.
Not a single individual of the twelve millions who inhabit the territory
of the United States has as yet dared to propose any restrictions to
the liberty of the press. The first newspaper over which I cast my eyes,
upon my arrival in America, contained the following article:

In all this affair the language of Jackson has been that of a heartless
despot, solely occupied with the preservation of his own authority.
Ambition is his crime, and it will be his punishment too: intrigue is
his native element, and intrigue will confound his tricks, and will
deprive him of his power: he governs by means of corruption, and his
immoral practices will redound to his shame and confusion. His conduct
in the political arena has been that of a shameless and lawless
gamester. He succeeded at the time, but the hour of retribution
approaches, and he will be obliged to disgorge his winnings, to throw
aside his false dice, and to end his days in some retirement, where he
may curse his madness at his leisure; for repentance is a virtue with
which his heart is likely to remain forever unacquainted.

It is not uncommonly imagined in France that the virulence of the
press originates in the uncertain social condition, in the political
excitement, and the general sense of consequent evil which prevail in
that country; and it is therefore supposed that as soon as society has
resumed a certain degree of composure the press will abandon its present
vehemence. I am inclined to think that the above causes explain the
reason of the extraordinary ascendency it has acquired over the nation,
but that they do not exercise much influence upon the tone of its
language. The periodical press appears to me to be actuated by passions
and propensities independent of the circumstances in which it is placed,
and the present position of America corroborates this opinion.

America is perhaps, at this moment, the country of the whole world
which contains the fewest germs of revolution; but the press is not less
destructive in its principles than in France, and it displays the same
violence without the same reasons for indignation. In America, as
in France, it constitutes a singular power, so strangely composed of
mingled good and evil that it is at the same time indispensable to the
existence of freedom, and nearly incompatible with the maintenance of
public order. Its power is certainly much greater in France than in the
United States; though nothing is more rare in the latter country than to
hear of a prosecution having been instituted against it. The reason
of this is perfectly simple: the Americans, having once admitted
the doctrine of the sovereignty of the people, apply it with perfect
consistency. It was never their intention to found a permanent state
of things with elements which undergo daily modifications; and there
is consequently nothing criminal in an attack upon the existing laws,
provided it be not attended with a violent infraction of them. They
are moreover of opinion that courts of justice are unable to check
the abuses of the press; and that as the subtilty of human language
perpetually eludes the severity of judicial analysis, offences of this
nature are apt to escape the hand which attempts to apprehend them. They
hold that to act with efficacy upon the press it would be necessary to
find a tribunal, not only devoted to the existing order of things, but
capable of surmounting the influence of public opinion; a tribunal which
should conduct its proceedings without publicity, which should pronounce
its decrees without assigning its motives, and punish the intentions
even more than the language of an author. Whosoever should have the
power of creating and maintaining a tribunal of this kind would waste
his time in prosecuting the liberty of the press; for he would be the
supreme master of the whole community, and he would be as free to
rid himself of the authors as of their writings. In this question,
therefore, there is no medium between servitude and extreme license; in
order to enjoy the inestimable benefits which the liberty of the press
ensures, it is necessary to submit to the inevitable evils which it
engenders. To expect to acquire the former and to escape the latter
is to cherish one of those illusions which commonly mislead nations
in their times of sickness, when, tired with faction and exhausted by
effort, they attempt to combine hostile opinions and contrary principles
upon the same soil.

The small influence of the American journals is attributable to several
reasons, amongst which are the following:

The liberty of writing, like all other liberty, is most formidable
when it is a novelty; for a people which has never been accustomed to
co-operate in the conduct of State affairs places implicit confidence
in the first tribune who arouses its attention. The Anglo-Americans
have enjoyed this liberty ever since the foundation of the settlements;
moreover, the press cannot create human passions by its own power,
however skillfully it may kindle them where they exist. In America
politics are discussed with animation and a varied activity, but they
rarely touch those deep passions which are excited whenever the positive
interest of a part of the community is impaired: but in the United
States the interests of the community are in a most prosperous
condition. A single glance upon a French and an American newspaper is
sufficient to show the difference which exists between the two nations
on this head. In France the space allotted to commercial advertisements
is very limited, and the intelligence is not considerable, but the most
essential part of the journal is that which contains the discussion of
the politics of the day. In America three-quarters of the enormous sheet
which is set before the reader are filled with advertisements, and the
remainder is frequently occupied by political intelligence or trivial
anecdotes: it is only from time to time that one finds a corner devoted
to passionate discussions like those with which the journalists of
France are wont to indulge their readers.

It has been demonstrated by observation, and discovered by the innate
sagacity of the pettiest as well as the greatest of despots, that the
influence of a power is increased in proportion as its direction
is rendered more central. In France the press combines a twofold
centralization; almost all its power is centred in the same spot, and
vested in the same hands, for its organs are far from numerous. The
influence of a public press thus constituted, upon a sceptical nation,
must be unbounded. It is an enemy with which a Government may sign an
occasional truce, but which it is difficult to resist for any length of
time.

Neither of these kinds of centralization exists in America. The United
States have no metropolis; the intelligence as well as the power of the
country are dispersed abroad, and instead of radiating from a point,
they cross each other in every direction; the Americans have established
no central control over the expression of opinion, any more than over
the conduct of business. These are circumstances which do not depend on
human foresight; but it is owing to the laws of the Union that there
are no licenses to be granted to printers, no securities demanded from
editors as in France, and no stamp duty as in France and formerly in
England. The consequence of this is that nothing is easier than to set
up a newspaper, and a small number of readers suffices to defray the
expenses of the editor.

The number of periodical and occasional publications which appears
in the United States actually surpasses belief. The most enlightened
Americans attribute the subordinate influence of the press to this
excessive dissemination; and it is adopted as an axiom of political
science in that country that the only way to neutralize the effect of
public journals is to multiply them indefinitely. I cannot conceive
that a truth which is so self-evident should not already have been more
generally admitted in Europe; it is comprehensible that the persons who
hope to bring about revolutions by means of the press should be desirous
of confining its action to a few powerful organs, but it is perfectly
incredible that the partisans of the existing state of things, and the
natural supporters of the law, should attempt to diminish the influence
of the press by concentrating its authority. The Governments of Europe
seem to treat the press with the courtesy of the knights of old; they
are anxious to furnish it with the same central power which they have
found to be so trusty a weapon, in order to enhance the glory of their
resistance to its attacks.

In America there is scarcely a hamlet which has not its own newspaper.
It may readily be imagined that neither discipline nor unity of
design can be communicated to so multifarious a host, and each one is
consequently led to fight under his own standard. All the political
journals of the United States are indeed arrayed on the side of the
administration or against it; but they attack and defend in a thousand
different ways. They cannot succeed in forming those great currents of
opinion which overwhelm the most solid obstacles. This division of the
influence of the press produces a variety of other consequences which
are scarcely less remarkable. The facility with which journals can be
established induces a multitude of individuals to take a part in
them; but as the extent of competition precludes the possibility of
considerable profit, the most distinguished classes of society are
rarely led to engage in these undertakings. But such is the number of
the public prints that, even if they were a source of wealth, writers
of ability could not be found to direct them all. The journalists of
the United States are usually placed in a very humble position, with a
scanty education and a vulgar turn of mind. The will of the majority is
the most general of laws, and it establishes certain habits which form
the characteristics of each peculiar class of society; thus it dictates
the etiquette practised at courts and the etiquette of the bar. The
characteristics of the French journalist consist in a violent, but
frequently an eloquent and lofty, manner of discussing the politics
of the day; and the exceptions to this habitual practice are only
occasional. The characteristics of the American journalist consist in
an open and coarse appeal to the passions of the populace; and he
habitually abandons the principles of political science to assail the
characters of individuals, to track them into private life, and disclose
all their weaknesses and errors.

Nothing can be more deplorable than this abuse of the powers of thought;
I shall have occasion to point out hereafter the influence of the
newspapers upon the taste and the morality of the American people, but
my present subject exclusively concerns the political world. It cannot
be denied that the effects of this extreme license of the press tend
indirectly to the maintenance of public order. The individuals who
are already in the possession of a high station in the esteem of their
fellow-citizens are afraid to write in the newspapers, and they are thus
deprived of the most powerful instrument which they can use to excite
the passions of the multitude to their own advantage. *a

[Footnote a: They only write in the papers when they choose to address
the people in their own name; as, for instance, when they are called
upon to repel calumnious imputations, and to correct a misstatement of
facts.]

The personal opinions of the editors have no kind of weight in the
eyes of the public: the only use of a journal is, that it imparts the
knowledge of certain facts, and it is only by altering or distorting
those facts that a journalist can contribute to the support of his own
views.

But although the press is limited to these resources, its influence
in America is immense. It is the power which impels the circulation of
political life through all the districts of that vast territory. Its eye
is constantly open to detect the secret springs of political designs,
and to summon the leaders of all parties to the bar of public opinion.
It rallies the interests of the community round certain principles, and
it draws up the creed which factions adopt; for it affords a means of
intercourse between parties which hear, and which address each other
without ever having been in immediate contact. When a great number of
the organs of the press adopt the same line of conduct, their influence
becomes irresistible; and public opinion, when it is perpetually
assailed from the same side, eventually yields to the attack. In the
United States each separate journal exercises but little authority, but
the power of the periodical press is only second to that of the people.
*b

[Footnote b: See Appendix, P.]

The opinions established in the United States under the empire of the
liberty of the press are frequently more firmly rooted than those which
are formed elsewhere under the sanction of a censor.

In the United States the democracy perpetually raises fresh individuals
to the conduct of public affairs; and the measures of the administration
are consequently seldom regulated by the strict rules of consistency or
of order. But the general principles of the Government are more stable,
and the opinions most prevalent in society are generally more durable
than in many other countries. When once the Americans have taken up an
idea, whether it be well or ill founded, nothing is more difficult than
to eradicate it from their minds. The same tenacity of opinion has been
observed in England, where, for the last century, greater freedom of
conscience and more invincible prejudices have existed than in all the
other countries of Europe. I attribute this consequence to a cause which
may at first sight appear to have a very opposite tendency, namely, to
the liberty of the press. The nations amongst which this liberty exists
are as apt to cling to their opinions from pride as from conviction.
They cherish them because they hold them to be just, and because they
exercised their own free-will in choosing them; and they maintain them
not only because they are true, but because they are their own. Several
other reasons conduce to the same end.

It was remarked by a man of genius that "ignorance lies at the two ends
of knowledge." Perhaps it would have been more correct to have said,
that absolute convictions are to be met with at the two extremities, and
that doubt lies in the middle; for the human intellect may be considered
in three distinct states, which frequently succeed one another. A man
believes implicitly, because he adopts a proposition without inquiry. He
doubts as soon as he is assailed by the objections which his inquiries
may have aroused. But he frequently succeeds in satisfying these doubts,
and then he begins to believe afresh: he no longer lays hold on a truth
in its most shadowy and uncertain form, but he sees it clearly before
him, and he advances onwards by the light it gives him. *c

[Footnote c: It may, however, be doubted whether this rational
and self-guiding conviction arouses as much fervor or enthusiastic
devotedness in men as their first dogmatical belief.]

When the liberty of the press acts upon men who are in the first of
these three states, it does not immediately disturb their habit of
believing implicitly without investigation, but it constantly modifies
the objects of their intuitive convictions. The human mind continues
to discern but one point upon the whole intellectual horizon, and
that point is in continual motion. Such are the symptoms of sudden
revolutions, and of the misfortunes which are sure to befall those
generations which abruptly adopt the unconditional freedom of the press.

The circle of novel ideas is, however, soon terminated; the touch
of experience is upon them, and the doubt and mistrust which their
uncertainty produces become universal. We may rest assured that the
majority of mankind will either believe they know not wherefore, or will
not know what to believe. Few are the beings who can ever hope to
attain to that state of rational and independent conviction which true
knowledge can beget in defiance of the attacks of doubt.

It has been remarked that in times of great religious fervor men
sometimes change their religious opinions; whereas in times of general
scepticism everyone clings to his own persuasion. The same thing takes
place in politics under the liberty of the press. In countries where all
the theories of social science have been contested in their turn, the
citizens who have adopted one of them stick to it, not so much because
they are assured of its excellence, as because they are not convinced of
the superiority of any other. In the present age men are not very ready
to die in defence of their opinions, but they are rarely inclined to
change them; and there are fewer martyrs as well as fewer apostates.