Democracy in America — Volume 2 by Alexis de Tocqueville
Chapter XIX: That Almost All The Americans Follow Industrial Callings
1974 words | Chapter 41
Agriculture is, perhaps, of all the useful arts that which improves most
slowly amongst democratic nations. Frequently, indeed, it would seem
to be stationary, because other arts are making rapid strides towards
perfection. On the other hand, almost all the tastes and habits which
the equality of condition engenders naturally lead men to commercial and
industrial occupations.
Suppose an active, enlightened, and free man, enjoying a competency, but
full of desires: he is too poor to live in idleness; he is rich enough
to feel himself protected from the immediate fear of want, and he thinks
how he can better his condition. This man has conceived a taste for
physical gratifications, which thousands of his fellow-men indulge in
around him; he has himself begun to enjoy these pleasures, and he is
eager to increase his means of satisfying these tastes more completely.
But life is slipping away, time is urgent--to what is he to turn? The
cultivation of the ground promises an almost certain result to his
exertions, but a slow one; men are not enriched by it without patience
and toil. Agriculture is therefore only suited to those who have already
large, superfluous wealth, or to those whose penury bids them only seek
a bare subsistence. The choice of such a man as we have supposed is soon
made; he sells his plot of ground, leaves his dwelling, and embarks in
some hazardous but lucrative calling. Democratic communities abound
in men of this kind; and in proportion as the equality of conditions
becomes greater, their multitude increases. Thus democracy not only
swells the number of workingmen, but it leads men to prefer one kind
of labor to another; and whilst it diverts them from agriculture, it
encourages their taste for commerce and manufactures. *a
[Footnote a: It has often been remarked that manufacturers and
mercantile men are inordinately addicted to physical gratifications, and
this has been attributed to commerce and manufactures; but that is,
I apprehend, to take the effect for the cause. The taste for physical
gratifications is not imparted to men by commerce or manufactures,
but it is rather this taste which leads men to embark in commerce and
manufactures, as a means by which they hope to satisfy themselves more
promptly and more completely. If commerce and manufactures increase the
desire of well-being, it is because every passion gathers strength in
proportion as it is cultivated, and is increased by all the efforts made
to satiate it. All the causes which make the love of worldly welfare
predominate in the heart of man are favorable to the growth of commerce
and manufactures. Equality of conditions is one of those causes; it
encourages trade, not directly by giving men a taste for business, but
indirectly by strengthening and expanding in their minds a taste for
prosperity.]
This spirit may be observed even amongst the richest members of the
community. In democratic countries, however opulent a man is supposed to
be, he is almost always discontented with his fortune, because he finds
that he is less rich than his father was, and he fears that his sons
will be less rich than himself. Most rich men in democracies are
therefore constantly haunted by the desire of obtaining wealth, and they
naturally turn their attention to trade and manufactures, which appear
to offer the readiest and most powerful means of success. In this
respect they share the instincts of the poor, without feeling the
same necessities; say rather, they feel the most imperious of all
necessities, that of not sinking in the world.
In aristocracies the rich are at the same time those who govern. The
attention which they unceasingly devote to important public affairs
diverts them from the lesser cares which trade and manufactures
demand. If the will of an individual happens, nevertheless, to turn his
attention to business, the will of the body to which he belongs will
immediately debar him from pursuing it; for however men may declaim
against the rule of numbers, they cannot wholly escape their sway; and
even amongst those aristocratic bodies which most obstinately refuse to
acknowledge the rights of the majority of the nation, a private majority
is formed which governs the rest. *b
[Footnote b: Some aristocracies, however, have devoted themselves
eagerly to commerce, and have cultivated manufactures with success. The
history of the world might furnish several conspicuous examples. But,
generally speaking, it may be affirmed that the aristocratic principle
is not favorable to the growth of trade and manufactures. Moneyed
aristocracies are the only exception to the rule. Amongst such
aristocracies there are hardly any desires which do not require wealth
to satisfy them; the love of riches becomes, so to speak, the high road
of human passions, which is crossed by or connected with all lesser
tracks. The love of money and the thirst for that distinction which
attaches to power, are then so closely intermixed in the same souls,
that it becomes difficult to discover whether men grow covetous from
ambition, or whether they are ambitious from covetousness. This is
the case in England, where men seek to get rich in order to arrive at
distinction, and seek distinctions as a manifestation of their wealth.
The mind is then seized by both ends, and hurried into trade and
manufactures, which are the shortest roads that lead to opulence.
This, however, strikes me as an exceptional and transitory circumstance.
When wealth is become the only symbol of aristocracy, it is very
difficult for the wealthy to maintain sole possession of political
power, to the exclusion of all other men. The aristocracy of birth and
pure democracy are at the two extremes of the social and political state
of nations: between them moneyed aristocracy finds its place. The latter
approximates to the aristocracy of birth by conferring great privileges
on a small number of persons; it so far belongs to the democratic
element, that these privileges may be successively acquired by all. It
frequently forms a natural transition between these two conditions
of society, and it is difficult to say whether it closes the reign of
aristocratic institutions, or whether it already opens the new era of
democracy.]
In democratic countries, where money does not lead those who possess it
to political power, but often removes them from it, the rich do not
know how to spend their leisure. They are driven into active life by the
inquietude and the greatness of their desires, by the extent of their
resources, and by the taste for what is extraordinary, which is almost
always felt by those who rise, by whatsoever means, above the crowd.
Trade is the only road open to them. In democracies nothing is more
great or more brilliant than commerce: it attracts the attention of
the public, and fills the imagination of the multitude; all energetic
passions are directed towards it. Neither their own prejudices, nor
those of anybody else, can prevent the rich from devoting themselves
to it. The wealthy members of democracies never form a body which has
manners and regulations of its own; the opinions peculiar to their class
do not restrain them, and the common opinions of their country urge them
on. Moreover, as all the large fortunes which are to be met with in a
democratic community are of commercial growth, many generations must
succeed each other before their possessors can have entirely laid aside
their habits of business.
Circumscribed within the narrow space which politics leave them, rich
men in democracies eagerly embark in commercial enterprise: there they
can extend and employ their natural advantages; and indeed it is even by
the boldness and the magnitude of their industrial speculations that we
may measure the slight esteem in which productive industry would have
been held by them, if they had been born amidst an aristocracy.
A similar observation is likewise applicable to all men living in
democracies, whether they be poor or rich. Those who live in the midst
of democratic fluctuations have always before their eyes the phantom of
chance; and they end by liking all undertakings in which chance plays a
part. They are therefore all led to engage in commerce, not only for
the sake of the profit it holds out to them, but for the love of the
constant excitement occasioned by that pursuit.
The United States of America have only been emancipated for half a
century [in 1840] from the state of colonial dependence in which they
stood to Great Britain; the number of large fortunes there is small, and
capital is still scarce. Yet no people in the world has made such rapid
progress in trade and manufactures as the Americans: they constitute at
the present day the second maritime nation in the world; and although
their manufactures have to struggle with almost insurmountable natural
impediments, they are not prevented from making great and daily
advances. In the United States the greatest undertakings and
speculations are executed without difficulty, because the whole
population is engaged in productive industry, and because the poorest
as well as the most opulent members of the commonwealth are ready to
combine their efforts for these purposes. The consequence is, that a
stranger is constantly amazed by the immense public works executed by a
nation which contains, so to speak, no rich men. The Americans arrived
but as yesterday on the territory which they inhabit, and they have
already changed the whole order of nature for their own advantage. They
have joined the Hudson to the Mississippi, and made the Atlantic Ocean
communicate with the Gulf of Mexico, across a continent of more than
five hundred leagues in extent which separates the two seas. The longest
railroads which have been constructed up to the present time are in
America. But what most astonishes me in the United States, is not so
much the marvellous grandeur of some undertakings, as the innumerable
multitude of small ones. Almost all the farmers of the United States
combine some trade with agriculture; most of them make agriculture
itself a trade. It seldom happens that an American farmer settles for
good upon the land which he occupies: especially in the districts of the
Far West he brings land into tillage in order to sell it again, and not
to farm it: he builds a farmhouse on the speculation that, as the state
of the country will soon be changed by the increase of population, a
good price will be gotten for it. Every year a swarm of the inhabitants
of the North arrive in the Southern States, and settle in the parts
where the cotton plant and the sugar-cane grow. These men cultivate the
soil in order to make it produce in a few years enough to enrich them;
and they already look forward to the time when they may return home
to enjoy the competency thus acquired. Thus the Americans carry their
business-like qualities into agriculture; and their trading passions are
displayed in that as in their other pursuits.
The Americans make immense progress in productive industry, because they
all devote themselves to it at once; and for this same reason they are
exposed to very unexpected and formidable embarrassments. As they are
all engaged in commerce, their commercial affairs are affected by
such various and complex causes that it is impossible to foresee
what difficulties may arise. As they are all more or less engaged in
productive industry, at the least shock given to business all private
fortunes are put in jeopardy at the same time, and the State is shaken.
I believe that the return of these commercial panics is an endemic
disease of the democratic nations of our age. It may be rendered less
dangerous, but it cannot be cured; because it does not originate in
accidental circumstances, but in the temperament of these nations.
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