IX
It is not necessary to extend this discussion into further detail since we are concerned only to indicate a direction rather than to describe a finished product. It may, moreover, be justly questioned whether the business of government can range to any fruitful purpose beyond the common economic, hygienic and educational concerns of the community, and such derivative and concomitant operations as they require for their effectual conduct. In any case it would appear that the remaining interests of life abut on the legitimate province of government only at minor and somewhat special points. These particular interests are for the most part of the “spiritual” order—religious and cultural; and from the nature of the case it were best to leave them to go their own way in peace so long as they may not equitably be charged with encroaching upon the general welfare. Such matters as the property of a religious society or an author’s copyright represent the kind of point at which the spiritual interests come into some sort of relation with the state; and these are essentially matters in the state-regulation of which the chief care should be to avoid anything that may interfere with independence and freedom of thought.
For when all is said and done, it is in this particular region that we must look for the actual and characteristic fruits of a democratic order. The real wealth of a community consists in the capacity it possesses and acquires for activity of a creative kind; its true riches are “the riches of the mind.” And in a sense we may say that the business of government is to set the house-keeping machinery moving so smoothly and efficiently that there will be real wayleave for the spiritual business of life. Just as the best physical condition of a man is that in which he is least aware of his body, so the best government is that which makes the governed least conscious of its operation. Here as elsewhere, magna ars celare artem. But is there any guarantee that such a state-organisation as is here pleaded for will be any more friendly to freedom of thought than the existing type? So far as the traditional state is concerned, it regards freedom of thought largely as a concession which is not quite congruous with the postulates upon which it habitually acts. Freedom of thought has been wrested from the state by main force; and then only with the understood proviso that the state is empowered on due occasion to withdraw the concession. The habit of free thought has however become so ingrained in the idea of democratic progress that there is now only one due occasion on which the state can interfere with it with any prospect of success—that is, in the event of war. Still from the standpoint of the state, freedom of thought is a regrettable, though, as things are, unavoidable defect in its machinery. It interferes sadly with the uniformitarian programme of the typical governmental mind. But this grudging toleration of freedom of thought is an inheritance from the dynastic period when it was necessary to have a population easily mobilisable for whatever adventure the dynast might plan, or whatever necessity of defence might be laid on him. The dynastic tradition required a regimentated people; and we have outgrown the dynastic tradition without discarding all its characteristic modes of working. This is in part to be accounted for by the fact that the continued existence of dynastic pretensions and the consequent danger of dynastic adventures of a predatory kind has necessitated the survival of dynastic ideas and practices as a measure of insurance even in communities that have discarded the dynastic principle. There will be no secure freedom of thought anywhere so long as the world contains any powerful survival of the dynastic tradition.
Latterly the dynastic tradition has (for patent reasons) been the enemy; but it is not unlikely that the downfall of the dynastic tradition may do no more than clear the decks for another more recent predatory institution, not less ominous for human well-being, which may secure the reversion of all the stock-in-trade and goodwill of its predecessor in the matter of national prestige and honour and the like. This is that commercial imperialism which has already insinuated itself into the folds of whatever mantle the dynastic tradition is still able to wear—so much so that it is popularly believed to be impossible to define the frontier at which dynastic pretensions end and commercial chauvinism begins. In any case it is sure that as the dynastic institution falls into desuetude, this commercial imperialism will make a strenuous effort to step into its shoes and arm itself with its weapons. There may be some difference between the person who seeks to gobble up the face of the earth and his brother who seeks to gobble up the markets of the earth. But for practical purposes they belong to the same class and will use the same methods. The nations will be persuaded to maintain sufficient military establishments to protect national capital when it is sent upon profitable adventures beyond the frontier; and the prospect of national prosperity and jealousy for national prestige will be worked for all that they are worth in support of these projects. With the net result that the attention of the state will be chiefly directed in the future as in the past to the furtherance of particularist national interests, and the consequent need of centralised power in the state for the easy regimentation of the people in case of emergency will remain as a permanent arrest on democratic development. And all this is the more tragic in that the “national” interests alleged to be engaged are in point of fact the interests only of the capitalist class. The rest of the nation stands to gain nothing material from these operations.
This latter danger can, however, be dealt with by the simple expedient of declaring that the capital goes out of the country at its own risk. It is, anyhow, preposterous to assume that capital has any inherent right to seek national protection when it travels abroad on private ventures of its own. That should be as clear as daylight; and its recognition would remove one of the main sources of international trouble. But it would also release the community from a good deal of the present wasteful and distracting preoccupation with the business incidental to the chances of international trouble, and leave it free to concern itself with the more vital matters of its inner life. And most of all, with the passing of the dynastic danger, this refusal to under-write the risks of profit-seeking capitalistic adventures abroad would remove the chief reason for that residual embargo on utter freedom of thought which must exist in a community which has to be held in readiness for swift regimentation. Men will never be wholly free until the possibility of war has disappeared from the earth.
With the diminution of the chances of international friction, the urgency of domestic uniformity will in great part disappear; and democratic life may be counted upon to express itself in a free and unlimited variation of thought and interest. At the same time it is obvious that the present doctrine of property-rights within the community entails a serious limitation upon the freedom of the mind. Notice has already been taken of the effect of the property-privilege as it operates in the hands of the capitalist employer upon the freedom of the worker; but the hindrance to freedom ranges far beyond this region. In domestic legislation, the rights of property have virtually been “the law and the prophets”; and modern states have shown themselves more jealous for the defence of vested interests than the culture of the national life. It may be indeed that they have not perceived that these two things were different, not to say opposed. But how far these vested interests enter into the counsels of the state is evident from the fact that it has tended to treat any doctrine which assails them as criminal; and crimes against property are almost invariably treated with greater severity than crimes against the person. While these class rights are still recognised as entitled to the corporate protection of the community, there will be a region within which freedom of thought will be still frowned upon and so far as may be denied. The sun is too high in the heavens to permit of persecution save in sporadic cases; and it would seem that this is the last ditch in which privilege is still entrenched in its retreat before the advance of freedom. Lese-majesté has ceased to be a dangerous crime; the heretic in religion enjoys his heresies unmolested; and the accident of noble birth has ceased to confer a privilege. The “divine rights” of property will presently go the way of the divine right of kings; and then democracy will have all its enemies under its feet, unless there may be lurking beyond the frontier some unforeseen and unforeseeable enemy. Yet this enemy too the spirit of democracy may be trusted to subdue.
Entire freedom of thought is contingent upon the ultimate disappearance of all forms of special and exclusive privilege, whether it appertains to monarchy, aristocracy or property; and freedom of thought is still tolerated grudgingly because government is contaminated by a survival of habits of thought derived from the doctrine of special inherent and sacred rights. The type of government pleaded for in these pages is one which assumes that no special interest shall have precedence over the good of the social whole, and which requires that every separate interest shall be subordinated to and co-ordinated into a general scheme of social welfare. The rights of property will be subject to such curtailment as the common good requires. And since therefore the main causes of existing limitations on freedom of thought will have disappeared, there seems to be no reason why this type of government should at any time take it upon itself to repress or to control thought. To this statement one exception may require to be made parenthetically, namely, that the continuance of sources of international trouble that may eventuate in war will probably necessitate occasional interference with freedom of thought and action. This matter we shall consider in more detail presently. Meantime, it is not rash to believe that in a state of the type here indicated, there will not only be any disposition to set bounds upon independent thought but a definite tendency to encourage it. It may conceivably come to conceive of national “prestige” in terms of perfect and untrammelled intellectual freedom.
Three conditions seem to be necessary to such an end. The first has to do with national education the aim of which should be to make every individual capable of thinking for himself and imparting to him a social vision which will discipline and fructify his thought. To this matter also we shall need to return at a later point.
The second condition is the provision of opportunities of free public discussion. To this subject some reference has already been made; and nothing more extended need now be added, save only, perhaps, the thought that the encouragement of free public discussion is the proper safeguard against the vagaries and dangers of a suppressed and inarticulate dissent. Let the new thing be brought into the Agora as it was in old Athens; and the daylight will declare whether it be gold or stubble.
The third condition is the full and unconditional recognition of the right of association,—the only proviso being that no association shall have private or occult or undeclared purposes. A strong tendency to the formation of social groups of various kinds, political, cultural, religious, recreational, should be hailed as a sign of life in the community. And even if the association be formed for the promulgation of the view of a dissenting minority, it should be as frankly encouraged as any other. For no view ever gains a considerable following which does not embody some fact or truth of experience which is necessary to the wholeness of life.
Chapter VIII.
A DEMOCRATIC WORLD.[[44]]
“We believe in association—which is but the reduction to action of our faith in one sole God, and one sole law, and one sole aim—as the only means we possess of realising the truth; as the method of progress; the path leading towards perfection. The highest possible degree of human progress will correspond to the discovery and application of the vastest formula of association.
We believe, therefore, in the Holy Alliance of the Peoples as the vastest formula of association possible in our epoch;—in the liberty and equality of the peoples without which no true association can exist; in nationality, which is the conscience of the peoples, and which, by assigning to them their part in the work of association, their function in humanity, constitutes their mission upon earth, that is to say, their individuality, without which neither liberty nor equality is possible; in the sacred Fatherland, cradle of nationality, altar and worship of the individuals of which each people is composed.
And, as we believe in humanity as the sole interpreter of the law of God, so do we believe in the people of every state as the sole master, sole sovereign, and sole interpreter of the law of humanity, which governs every national mission. We believe in the people, one and indivisible, recognising neither castes nor privileges, neither proletariat nor aristocracy, whether landed or financial; but simply an aggregate of faculties and forces consecrated to the well-being of all, to the administration of the common substance and possession, the terrestrial globe.”—
Mazzini.
[44]. This chapter was written some time before the League of Nations plan adopted at the Peace Conference was issued. It is, in spite of a few points which might require modification, allowed to stand as it was written, since the general course of the argument still appears to be sound, especially as it raises points in relation to which the official scheme will most certainly require great changes.
“Come, read the meaning of the deep!
The use of winds and waters learn!
’Tis not to make the mother weep
For sons that never will return.
’Tis not to make the nations show
Contempt for all whom seas divide;
’Tis not to pamper war and woe
Nor feed traditionary pride;
It is to knit with loving life
The interests of land to land,
To join in far-seen fellowship
The tropic and the polar strand.
And more, for Knowledge crowns the gain
Of intercourse with other souls,
And wisdom travels not in vain
The plunging spaces of the poles.
O may our voice have power to say
How soon the wrecking discords cease,
When every wandering wave is gay
With golden argosies of peace.”
—George Meredith.
DEMOCRACY can only thrive in a democratic setting; and while any powerful remnants of the dynastic tradition survive in the world, it is unlikely that democracy will be able to reach the full term of its own development. For the dynastic tradition is from the nature of the case of an incurably predatory character; and democracy will be arrested in its self-realisation by so much of the dynastic habit of thought and way of life as it may be necessary to retain in order to gain immunity from attack. It has been one of the commonplaces of the Great War that the democratic countries have been compelled to defend themselves against Prussianism by adopting the familiar Prussian methods of repression and regimentation. And what the war has actually provoked is always potentially present. So long as there are dynastic nations with highly centralised and omnicompetent authority and consequently in a more or less advanced state of preparation for military enterprise, it is not to be expected that their democratic neighbours will leave themselves at their mercy; and the common democratic rights of freedom—whether of the person or of thought—have to be so far permanently subject to curtailment and even entire suspension in the event of war. It is easy to say that once the danger is past, the former liberties will be automatically restored; but it does not so work out in actual fact. For authority is ever loth to relinquish any advantage it has gained; and there are always parties in every community who either on selfish or academic grounds are favourable to the curtailment of democratic rights. The restoration of these rights has commonly to be effected against the opposition of parties interested in their curtailment. It is a matter of common knowledge that powerful interests are already at work, for instance, to secure that the hard-won privileges of the Trade Unions shall not be restored to them; and we may expect to find very considerable and dangerous opposition to the re-establishment of those civil liberties which were suspended “for the duration of the war.” It is not likely, however, that this opposition can be long maintained. But it is certain that it will be some time after the close of the war before the domestic liberties of the democratic countries will be restored to the point which they had reached at the beginning of the war; and by so much democratic advance will have been retarded.