Democracy In America, Volume 1 (of 2)

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


From the time when the exercise of the intellect became the source of
strength and of wealth, it is impossible not to consider every addition
to science, every fresh truth, and every new idea as a germ of power
placed within the reach of the people. Poetry, eloquence, and memory,
the grace of wit, the glow of imagination, the depth of thought, and all
the gifts which are bestowed by Providence with an equal hand, turned
to the advantage of the democracy; and even when they were in the
possession of its adversaries they still served its cause by throwing
into relief the natural greatness of man; its conquests spread,
therefore, with those of civilization and knowledge, and literature
became an arsenal where the poorest and the weakest could always find
weapons to their hand.

In perusing the pages of our history, we shall scarcely meet with a
single great event, in the lapse of seven hundred years, which has not
turned to the advantage of equality. The Crusades and the wars of the
English decimated the nobles and divided their possessions; the erection
of communities introduced an element of democratic liberty into the
bosom of feudal monarchy; the invention of fire-arms equalized the
villein and the noble on the field of battle; printing opened the same
resources to the minds of all classes; the post was organized so as to
bring the same information to the door of the poor man's cottage and to
the gate of the palace; and Protestantism proclaimed that all men are
alike able to find the road to heaven. The discovery of America offered
a thousand new paths to fortune, and placed riches and power within
the reach of the adventurous and the obscure. If we examine what has
happened in France at intervals of fifty years, beginning with the
eleventh century, we shall invariably perceive that a twofold revolution
has taken place in the state of society. The noble has gone down on the
social ladder, and the roturier has gone up; the one descends as the
other rises. Every half century brings them nearer to each other, and
they will very shortly meet.

Nor is this phenomenon at all peculiar to France. Whithersoever we turn
our eyes we shall witness the same continual revolution throughout the
whole of Christendom. The various occurrences of national existence have
everywhere turned to the advantage of democracy; all men have aided it
by their exertions: those who have intentionally labored in its cause,
and those who have served it unwittingly; those who have fought for
it and those who have declared themselves its opponents, have all
been driven along in the same track, have all labored to one end, some
ignorantly and some unwillingly; all have been blind instruments in the
hands of God.

The gradual development of the equality of conditions is therefore a
providential fact, and it possesses all the characteristics of a divine
decree: it is universal, it is durable, it constantly eludes all human
interference, and all events as well as all men contribute to its
progress. Would it, then, be wise to imagine that a social impulse which
dates from so far back can be checked by the efforts of a generation? Is
it credible that the democracy which has annihilated the feudal system
and vanquished kings will respect the citizen and the capitalist? Will
it stop now that it has grown so strong and its adversaries so weak?
None can say which way we are going, for all terms of comparison are
wanting: the equality of conditions is more complete in the Christian
countries of the present day than it has been at any time or in any part
of the world; so that the extent of what already exists prevents us from
foreseeing what may be yet to come.

The whole book which is here offered to the public has been written
under the impression of a kind of religious dread produced in the
author's mind by the contemplation of so irresistible a revolution,
which has advanced for centuries in spite of such amazing obstacles, and
which is still proceeding in the midst of the ruins it has made. It is
not necessary that God himself should speak in order to disclose to
us the unquestionable signs of His will; we can discern them in the
habitual course of nature, and in the invariable tendency of events: I
know, without a special revelation, that the planets move in the orbits
traced by the Creator's finger. If the men of our time were led by
attentive observation and by sincere reflection to acknowledge that the
gradual and progressive development of social equality is at once the
past and future of their history, this solitary truth would confer the
sacred character of a Divine decree upon the change. To attempt to
check democracy would be in that case to resist the will of God; and
the nations would then be constrained to make the best of the social lot
awarded to them by Providence.

The Christian nations of our age seem to me to present a most alarming
spectacle; the impulse which is bearing them along is so strong that it
cannot be stopped, but it is not yet so rapid that it cannot be guided:
their fate is in their hands; yet a little while and it may be so no
longer. The first duty which is at this time imposed upon those who
direct our affairs is to educate the democracy; to warm its faith,
if that be possible; to purify its morals; to direct its energies;
to substitute a knowledge of business for its inexperience, and an
acquaintance with its true interests for its blind propensities; to
adapt its government to time and place, and to modify it in compliance
with the occurrences and the actors of the age. A new science of
politics is indispensable to a new world. This, however, is what we
think of least; launched in the middle of a rapid stream, we obstinately
fix our eyes on the ruins which may still be described upon the shore we
have left, whilst the current sweeps us along, and drives us backwards
towards the gulf.

In no country in Europe has the great social revolution which I have
been describing made such rapid progress as in France; but it has always
been borne on by chance. The heads of the State have never had any
forethought for its exigencies, and its victories have been obtained
without their consent or without their knowledge. The most powerful, the
most intelligent, and the most moral classes of the nation have never
attempted to connect themselves with it in order to guide it. The people
has consequently been abandoned to its wild propensities, and it has
grown up like those outcasts who receive their education in the
public streets, and who are unacquainted with aught but the vices and
wretchedness of society. The existence of a democracy was seemingly
unknown, when on a sudden it took possession of the supreme power.
Everything was then submitted to its caprices; it was worshipped as the
idol of strength; until, when it was enfeebled by its own excesses, the
legislator conceived the rash project of annihilating its power, instead
of instructing it and correcting its vices; no attempt was made to fit
it to govern, but all were bent on excluding it from the government.

The consequence of this has been that the democratic revolution has been
effected only in the material parts of society, without that concomitant
change in laws, ideas, customs, and manners which was necessary to
render such a revolution beneficial. We have gotten a democracy, but
without the conditions which lessen its vices and render its natural
advantages more prominent; and although we already perceive the evils it
brings, we are ignorant of the benefits it may confer.

While the power of the Crown, supported by the aristocracy, peaceably
governed the nations of Europe, society possessed, in the midst of its
wretchedness, several different advantages which can now scarcely be
appreciated or conceived. The power of a part of his subjects was an
insurmountable barrier to the tyranny of the prince; and the monarch,
who felt the almost divine character which he enjoyed in the eyes of
the multitude, derived a motive for the just use of his power from the
respect which he inspired. High as they were placed above the people,
the nobles could not but take that calm and benevolent interest in
its fate which the shepherd feels towards his flock; and without
acknowledging the poor as their equals, they watched over the destiny of
those whose welfare Providence had entrusted to their care. The people
never having conceived the idea of a social condition different from its
own, and entertaining no expectation of ever ranking with its chiefs,
received benefits from them without discussing their rights. It grew
attached to them when they were clement and just, and it submitted
without resistance or servility to their exactions, as to the inevitable
visitations of the arm of God. Custom, and the manners of the time,
had moreover created a species of law in the midst of violence, and
established certain limits to oppression. As the noble never suspected
that anyone would attempt to deprive him of the privileges which
he believed to be legitimate, and as the serf looked upon his own
inferiority as a consequence of the immutable order of nature, it is
easy to imagine that a mutual exchange of good-will took place between
two classes so differently gifted by fate. Inequality and wretchedness
were then to be found in society; but the souls of neither rank of men
were degraded. Men are not corrupted by the exercise of power or debased
by the habit of obedience, but by the exercise of a power which they
believe to be illegal and by obedience to a rule which they consider
to be usurped and oppressive. On one side was wealth, strength, and
leisure, accompanied by the refinements of luxury, the elegance of
taste, the pleasures of wit, and the religion of art. On the other was
labor and a rude ignorance; but in the midst of this coarse and ignorant
multitude it was not uncommon to meet with energetic passions, generous
sentiments, profound religious convictions, and independent virtues. The
body of a State thus organized might boast of its stability, its power,
and, above all, of its glory.

But the scene is now changed, and gradually the two ranks mingle; the
divisions which once severed mankind are lowered, property is divided,
power is held in common, the light of intelligence spreads, and the
capacities of all classes are equally cultivated; the State becomes
democratic, and the empire of democracy is slowly and peaceably
introduced into the institutions and the manners of the nation. I can
conceive a society in which all men would profess an equal attachment
and respect for the laws of which they are the common authors; in which
the authority of the State would be respected as necessary, though not
as divine; and the loyalty of the subject to its chief magistrate would
not be a passion, but a quiet and rational persuasion. Every individual
being in the possession of rights which he is sure to retain, a kind of
manly reliance and reciprocal courtesy would arise between all classes,
alike removed from pride and meanness. The people, well acquainted
with its true interests, would allow that in order to profit by the
advantages of society it is necessary to satisfy its demands. In this
state of things the voluntary association of the citizens might supply
the individual exertions of the nobles, and the community would be alike
protected from anarchy and from oppression.

I admit that, in a democratic State thus constituted, society will not
be stationary; but the impulses of the social body may be regulated and
directed forwards; if there be less splendor than in the halls of an
aristocracy, the contrast of misery will be less frequent also; the
pleasures of enjoyment may be less excessive, but those of comfort will
be more general; the sciences may be less perfectly cultivated, but
ignorance will be less common; the impetuosity of the feelings will be
repressed, and the habits of the nation softened; there will be more
vices and fewer crimes. In the absence of enthusiasm and of an
ardent faith, great sacrifices may be obtained from the members of a
commonwealth by an appeal to their understandings and their experience;
each individual will feel the same necessity for uniting with his
fellow-citizens to protect his own weakness; and as he knows that if
they are to assist he must co-operate, he will readily perceive that his
personal interest is identified with the interest of the community. The
nation, taken as a whole, will be less brilliant, less glorious, and
perhaps less strong; but the majority of the citizens will enjoy a
greater degree of prosperity, and the people will remain quiet, not
because it despairs of amelioration, but because it is conscious of the
advantages of its condition. If all the consequences of this state of
things were not good or useful, society would at least have appropriated
all such as were useful and good; and having once and for ever
renounced the social advantages of aristocracy, mankind would enter into
possession of all the benefits which democracy can afford.

But here it may be asked what we have adopted in the place of those
institutions, those ideas, and those customs of our forefathers which
we have abandoned. The spell of royalty is broken, but it has not been
succeeded by the majesty of the laws; the people has learned to despise
all authority, but fear now extorts a larger tribute of obedience than
that which was formerly paid by reverence and by love.

I perceive that we have destroyed those independent beings which were
able to cope with tyranny single-handed; but it is the Government
that has inherited the privileges of which families, corporations, and
individuals have been deprived; the weakness of the whole community has
therefore succeeded that influence of a small body of citizens, which,
if it was sometimes oppressive, was often conservative. The division
of property has lessened the distance which separated the rich from the
poor; but it would seem that the nearer they draw to each other, the
greater is their mutual hatred, and the more vehement the envy and the
dread with which they resist each other's claims to power; the notion of
Right is alike insensible to both classes, and Force affords to both the
only argument for the present, and the only guarantee for the future.
The poor man retains the prejudices of his forefathers without their
faith, and their ignorance without their virtues; he has adopted
the doctrine of self-interest as the rule of his actions, without
understanding the science which controls it, and his egotism is no less
blind than his devotedness was formerly. If society is tranquil, it is
not because it relies upon its strength and its well-being, but because
it knows its weakness and its infirmities; a single effort may cost it
its life; everybody feels the evil, but no one has courage or energy
enough to seek the cure; the desires, the regret, the sorrows, and the
joys of the time produce nothing that is visible or permanent, like the
passions of old men which terminate in impotence.

We have, then, abandoned whatever advantages the old state of things
afforded, without receiving any compensation from our present condition;
we have destroyed an aristocracy, and we seem inclined to survey its
ruins with complacency, and to fix our abode in the midst of them.

The phenomena which the intellectual world presents are not less
deplorable. The democracy of France, checked in its course or abandoned
to its lawless passions, has overthrown whatever crossed its path, and
has shaken all that it has not destroyed. Its empire on society has
not been gradually introduced or peaceably established, but it has
constantly advanced in the midst of disorder and the agitation of a
conflict. In the heat of the struggle each partisan is hurried beyond
the limits of his opinions by the opinions and the excesses of his
opponents, until he loses sight of the end of his exertions, and holds a
language which disguises his real sentiments or secret instincts. Hence
arises the strange confusion which we are witnessing. I cannot recall to
my mind a passage in history more worthy of sorrow and of pity than the
scenes which are happening under our eyes; it is as if the natural bond
which unites the opinions of man to his tastes and his actions to
his principles was now broken; the sympathy which has always been
acknowledged between the feelings and the ideas of mankind appears to
be dissolved, and all the laws of moral analogy to be dissolved, and all
the laws of moral analogy to be abolished.

Zealous Christians may be found amongst us whose minds are nurtured in
the love and knowledge of a future life, and who readily espouse
the cause of human liberty as the source of all moral greatness.
Christianity, which has declared that all men are equal in the sight of
God, will not refuse to acknowledge that all citizens are equal in the
eye of the law. But, by a singular concourse of events, religion is
entangled in those institutions which democracy assails, and it is not
unfrequently brought to reject the equality it loves, and to curse that
cause of liberty as a foe which it might hallow by its alliance.

By the side of these religious men I discern others whose looks are
turned to the earth more than to Heaven; they are the partisans of
liberty, not only as the source of the noblest virtues, but more
especially as the root of all solid advantages; and they sincerely
desire to extend its sway, and to impart its blessings to mankind. It
is natural that they should hasten to invoke the assistance of religion,
for they must know that liberty cannot be established without morality,
nor morality without faith; but they have seen religion in the ranks of
their adversaries, and they inquire no further; some of them attack it
openly, and the remainder are afraid to defend it.

In former ages slavery has been advocated by the venal and
slavish-minded, whilst the independent and the warm-hearted were
struggling without hope to save the liberties of mankind. But men of
high and generous characters are now to be met with, whose opinions are
at variance with their inclinations, and who praise that servility which
they have themselves never known. Others, on the contrary, speak in
the name of liberty, as if they were able to feel its sanctity and its
majesty, and loudly claim for humanity those rights which they have
always disowned. There are virtuous and peaceful individuals whose
pure morality, quiet habits, affluence, and talents fit them to be the
leaders of the surrounding population; their love of their country is
sincere, and they are prepared to make the greatest sacrifices to its
welfare, but they confound the abuses of civilization with its benefits,
and the idea of evil is inseparable in their minds from that of novelty.

Not far from this class is another party, whose object is to materialize
mankind, to hit upon what is expedient without heeding what is just,
to acquire knowledge without faith, and prosperity apart from virtue;
assuming the title of the champions of modern civilization, and placing
themselves in a station which they usurp with insolence, and from
which they are driven by their own unworthiness. Where are we then?
The religionists are the enemies of liberty, and the friends of liberty
attack religion; the high-minded and the noble advocate subjection,
and the meanest and most servile minds preach independence; honest and
enlightened citizens are opposed to all progress, whilst men without
patriotism and without principles are the apostles of civilization and
of intelligence. Has such been the fate of the centuries which have
preceded our own? and has man always inhabited a world like the present,
where nothing is linked together, where virtue is without genius, and
genius without honor; where the love of order is confounded with a taste
for oppression, and the holy rites of freedom with a contempt of law;
where the light thrown by conscience on human actions is dim, and
where nothing seems to be any longer forbidden or allowed, honorable
or shameful, false or true? I cannot, however, believe that the Creator
made man to leave him in an endless struggle with the intellectual
miseries which surround us: God destines a calmer and a more certain
future to the communities of Europe; I am unacquainted with His designs,
but I shall not cease to believe in them because I cannot fathom them,
and I had rather mistrust my own capacity than His justice.

There is a country in the world where the great revolution which I am
speaking of seems nearly to have reached its natural limits; it has
been effected with ease and simplicity, say rather that this country
has attained the consequences of the democratic revolution which we
are undergoing without having experienced the revolution itself. The
emigrants who fixed themselves on the shores of America in the beginning
of the seventeenth century severed the democratic principle from all
the principles which repressed it in the old communities of Europe, and
transplanted it unalloyed to the New World. It has there been allowed to
spread in perfect freedom, and to put forth its consequences in the laws
by influencing the manners of the country.

It appears to me beyond a doubt that sooner or later we shall arrive,
like the Americans, at an almost complete equality of conditions. But I
do not conclude from this that we shall ever be necessarily led to draw
the same political consequences which the Americans have derived from
a similar social organization. I am far from supposing that they have
chosen the only form of government which a democracy may adopt; but the
identity of the efficient cause of laws and manners in the two countries
is sufficient to account for the immense interest we have in becoming
acquainted with its effects in each of them.

It is not, then, merely to satisfy a legitimate curiosity that I have
examined America; my wish has been to find instruction by which we may
ourselves profit. Whoever should imagine that I have intended to write a
panegyric will perceive that such was not my design; nor has it been
my object to advocate any form of government in particular, for I am
of opinion that absolute excellence is rarely to be found in any
legislation; I have not even affected to discuss whether the social
revolution, which I believe to be irresistible, is advantageous or
prejudicial to mankind; I have acknowledged this revolution as a fact
already accomplished or on the eve of its accomplishment; and I have
selected the nation, from amongst those which have undergone it, in
which its development has been the most peaceful and the most complete,
in order to discern its natural consequences, and, if it be possible, to
distinguish the means by which it may be rendered profitable. I confess
that in America I saw more than America; I sought the image of democracy
itself, with its inclinations, its character, its prejudices, and its
passions, in order to learn what we have to fear or to hope from its
progress.

In the first part of this work I have attempted to show the tendency
given to the laws by the democracy of America, which is abandoned almost
without restraint to its instinctive propensities, and to exhibit the
course it prescribes to the Government and the influence it exercises on
affairs. I have sought to discover the evils and the advantages which
it produces. I have examined the precautions used by the Americans to
direct it, as well as those which they have not adopted, and I have
undertaken to point out the causes which enable it to govern society.
I do not know whether I have succeeded in making known what I saw in
America, but I am certain that such has been my sincere desire, and that
I have never, knowingly, moulded facts to ideas, instead of ideas to
facts.

Whenever a point could be established by the aid of written documents,
I have had recourse to the original text, and to the most authentic and
approved works. I have cited my authorities in the notes, and anyone may
refer to them. Whenever an opinion, a political custom, or a remark on
the manners of the country was concerned, I endeavored to consult the
most enlightened men I met with. If the point in question was important
or doubtful, I was not satisfied with one testimony, but I formed my
opinion on the evidence of several witnesses. Here the reader must
necessarily believe me upon my word. I could frequently have quoted names
which are either known to him, or which deserve to be so, in proof of
what I advance; but I have carefully abstained from this practice. A
stranger frequently hears important truths at the fire-side of his host,
which the latter would perhaps conceal from the ear of friendship;
he consoles himself with his guest for the silence to which he is
restricted, and the shortness of the traveller's stay takes away all
fear of his indiscretion. I carefully noted every conversation of this
nature as soon as it occurred, but these notes will never leave my
writing-case; I had rather injure the success of my statements than
add my name to the list of those strangers who repay the generous
hospitality they have received by subsequent chagrin and annoyance.