Democracy in America — Volume 2 by Alexis de Tocqueville
Chapter IV: That The Americans Combat The Effects Of Individualism By
1603 words | Chapter 26
Free Institutions
Despotism, which is of a very timorous nature, is never more secure of
continuance than when it can keep men asunder; and all is influence
is commonly exerted for that purpose. No vice of the human heart is so
acceptable to it as egotism: a despot easily forgives his subjects for
not loving him, provided they do not love each other. He does not ask
them to assist him in governing the State; it is enough that they do not
aspire to govern it themselves. He stigmatizes as turbulent and
unruly spirits those who would combine their exertions to promote the
prosperity of the community, and, perverting the natural meaning of
words, he applauds as good citizens those who have no sympathy for any
but themselves. Thus the vices which despotism engenders are precisely
those which equality fosters. These two things mutually and perniciously
complete and assist each other. Equality places men side by side,
unconnected by any common tie; despotism raises barriers to keep
them asunder; the former predisposes them not to consider their
fellow-creatures, the latter makes general indifference a sort of public
virtue.
Despotism then, which is at all times dangerous, is more particularly to
be feared in democratic ages. It is easy to see that in those same ages
men stand most in need of freedom. When the members of a community are
forced to attend to public affairs, they are necessarily drawn from
the circle of their own interests, and snatched at times from
self-observation. As soon as a man begins to treat of public affairs
in public, he begins to perceive that he is not so independent of his
fellow-men as he had at first imagined, and that, in order to obtain
their support, he must often lend them his co-operation.
When the public is supreme, there is no man who does not feel the value
of public goodwill, or who does not endeavor to court it by drawing to
himself the esteem and affection of those amongst whom he is to live.
Many of the passions which congeal and keep asunder human hearts,
are then obliged to retire and hide below the surface. Pride must be
dissembled; disdain dares not break out; egotism fears its own self.
Under a free government, as most public offices are elective, the men
whose elevated minds or aspiring hopes are too closely circumscribed in
private life, constantly feel that they cannot do without the population
which surrounds them. Men learn at such times to think of their
fellow-men from ambitious motives; and they frequently find it, in a
manner, their interest to forget themselves.
I may here be met by an objection derived from electioneering intrigues,
the meannesses of candidates, and the calumnies of their opponents.
These are opportunities for animosity which occur the oftener the more
frequent elections become. Such evils are doubtless great, but they are
transient; whereas the benefits which attend them remain. The desire
of being elected may lead some men for a time to violent hostility; but
this same desire leads all men in the long run mutually to support
each other; and if it happens that an election accidentally severs two
friends, the electoral system brings a multitude of citizens permanently
together, who would always have remained unknown to each other. Freedom
engenders private animosities, but despotism gives birth to general
indifference.
The Americans have combated by free institutions the tendency of
equality to keep men asunder, and they have subdued it. The legislators
of America did not suppose that a general representation of the whole
nation would suffice to ward off a disorder at once so natural to the
frame of democratic society, and so fatal: they also thought that
it would be well to infuse political life into each portion of the
territory, in order to multiply to an infinite extent opportunities of
acting in concert for all the members of the community, and to make them
constantly feel their mutual dependence on each other. The plan was a
wise one. The general affairs of a country only engage the attention of
leading politicians, who assemble from time to time in the same places;
and as they often lose sight of each other afterwards, no lasting ties
are established between them. But if the object be to have the local
affairs of a district conducted by the men who reside there, the same
persons are always in contact, and they are, in a manner, forced to be
acquainted, and to adapt themselves to one another.
It is difficult to draw a man out of his own circle to interest him in
the destiny of the State, because he does not clearly understand what
influence the destiny of the State can have upon his own lot. But if it
be proposed to make a road cross the end of his estate, he will see at
a glance that there is a connection between this small public affair and
his greatest private affairs; and he will discover, without its being
shown to him, the close tie which unites private to general interest.
Thus, far more may be done by intrusting to the citizens the
administration of minor affairs than by surrendering to them the control
of important ones, towards interesting them in the public welfare, and
convincing them that they constantly stand in need one of the other in
order to provide for it. A brilliant achievement may win for you the
favor of a people at one stroke; but to earn the love and respect of
the population which surrounds you, a long succession of little services
rendered and of obscure good deeds--a constant habit of kindness, and
an established reputation for disinterestedness--will be required.
Local freedom, then, which leads a great number of citizens to value the
affection of their neighbors and of their kindred, perpetually brings
men together, and forces them to help one another, in spite of the
propensities which sever them.
In the United States the more opulent citizens take great care not to
stand aloof from the people; on the contrary, they constantly keep on
easy terms with the lower classes: they listen to them, they speak to
them every day. They know that the rich in democracies always stand in
need of the poor; and that in democratic ages you attach a poor man to
you more by your manner than by benefits conferred. The magnitude of
such benefits, which sets off the difference of conditions, causes a
secret irritation to those who reap advantage from them; but the charm
of simplicity of manners is almost irresistible: their affability
carries men away, and even their want of polish is not always
displeasing. This truth does not take root at once in the minds of the
rich. They generally resist it as long as the democratic revolution
lasts, and they do not acknowledge it immediately after that revolution
is accomplished. They are very ready to do good to the people, but
they still choose to keep them at arm's length; they think that is
sufficient, but they are mistaken. They might spend fortunes thus
without warming the hearts of the population around them;--that
population does not ask them for the sacrifice of their money, but of
their pride.
It would seem as if every imagination in the United States were upon
the stretch to invent means of increasing the wealth and satisfying
the wants of the public. The best-informed inhabitants of each district
constantly use their information to discover new truths which may
augment the general prosperity; and if they have made any such
discoveries, they eagerly surrender them to the mass of the people.
When the vices and weaknesses, frequently exhibited by those who
govern in America, are closely examined, the prosperity of the people
occasions--but improperly occasions--surprise. Elected magistrates do
not make the American democracy flourish; it flourishes because the
magistrates are elective.
It would be unjust to suppose that the patriotism and the zeal which
every American displays for the welfare of his fellow-citizens are
wholly insincere. Although private interest directs the greater part
of human actions in the United States as well as elsewhere, it does
not regulate them all. I must say that I have often seen Americans make
great and real sacrifices to the public welfare; and I have remarked
a hundred instances in which they hardly ever failed to lend faithful
support to each other. The free institutions which the inhabitants of
the United States possess, and the political rights of which they make
so much use, remind every citizen, and in a thousand ways, that he lives
in society. They every instant impress upon his mind the notion that it
is the duty, as well as the interest of men, to make themselves useful
to their fellow-creatures; and as he sees no particular ground of
animosity to them, since he is never either their master or their slave,
his heart readily leans to the side of kindness. Men attend to the
interests of the public, first by necessity, afterwards by choice: what
was intentional becomes an instinct; and by dint of working for the good
of one's fellow citizens, the habit and the taste for serving them is at
length acquired.
Many people in France consider equality of conditions as one evil, and
political freedom as a second. When they are obliged to yield to the
former, they strive at least to escape from the latter. But I contend
that in order to combat the evils which equality may produce, there is
only one effectual remedy--namely, political freedom.
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