Protection and Communism

by Frédéric Bastiat

But to what purpose is it to insist upon these general ideas? Why should I show the absurdity of Communism, since you have done so yourself (except as to one of its aspects, and, as I think, practically the most threatening) much better than it was in my power to effect?

Perhaps you will say to me that the principle of the system of Protection is not opposed to the principle of property. See, then, the means by which this system operates.

These are two: by the aid of premiums or bounties, or by restriction.

As to the first, that is evident. I defy any one to maintain that the end of the system of premiums, pushed to its legitimate conclusion, is not absolute Communism. Men work under protection of the public authority, as you say, charged to secure to each one his own—suum cuique. But in this instance the state, with the most philanthropic intentions in the world, undertakes a task altogether new and different, and, according to me, not only exclusive, but destructive of the first. It constitutes itself the judge of profits; it decides that this interest is not sufficiently remunerated, and that that is too much so; it stands as the distributor of fortunes, and makes, as M. Billault phrases it, the pendulum of civilization oscillate from the liberty of individual action to its opposite. Consequently it imposes upon the community at large a contribution for the purpose of making a present, under the name of premiums, to the exporters of a particular kind of produce. The pretext is to favour industry; it ought to say, one particular interest at the expense of all the others. I shall not stop to show that it stimulates the off-shoot at the expense of that branch which bears the fruit; but I ask you, on entering on this course, does it not justify every interest to come and claim a premium, if it can prove that the profits gained by it are not as much as those obtained by other interests? Is it not the duty of the state to listen, to entertain, to give ear to every demand, and to do justice between the applicants. I do not believe it; but those who do so, should have the courage to put their thoughts in this form, and to say—Government is not charged to render property secure, but to distribute it equally. In other words, there is no such thing as property.

I only discuss here a question of principle. If I wished to investigate the subject of premiums for exportation, as shown in their economical effects, I could place them in the most ridiculous light, for they are nothing more than a gratuitous gift made by France to foreigners. It is not the seller who receives it, but the purchaser, in virtue of that law which you yourself have stated with regard to taxes; the consumer in the end supports all the charges, as he reaps all the advantages of production. Thus we are brought to the subject of premiums, one of the most mortifying and mystifying things possible. Some foreign governments have reasoned thus: 'If we raise our import duties to a figure equal to the premium paid by the tax-payers in France, it is clear that nothing will be changed as regards our consumers, for the net price will remain the same. The goods reduced by five francs on the French frontier, will pay five francs more at the German frontier; it is an infallible means of paying our public expenses out of the French Treasury.' But other governments, they assure me, have been more ingenious still. They have said to themselves, 'The premium given by France is properly a present she makes us; but if we raise the duty, no reason would exist why more of those particular goods should be imported than in past times; we ourselves place a limit on the generosity of these excellent French people; let us abolish, on the contrary, provisionally, these duties; let us encourage, for instance, an unusual introduction of cloths, since every yard brings with it an absolute gift.' In the first case, our premiums have gone to the foreign exchequer; in the second they have profited, but upon a larger scale, private individuals.

Let us pass on to restriction.

I am a workman—a joiner, for example—I have a little workshop, tools, some materials. All these things incontestably belong to me, for I have made them, or, which comes to the same thing, I have bought and paid for them. Still more, I have strong arms, some intelligence, and plenty of good will. On this foundation I endeavour to provide for my own wants and for those of my family. Remark, that I cannot directly produce anything which is useful to me, neither iron, nor wood, nor bread, nor wine, nor meat, nor stuffs, &c., but I can produce the value of them. Finally, these things must, so to speak, circulate under another form, from my saw and my plane. It is my interest to receive honestly the largest possible quantity in exchange for the produce of my labour. I say honestly, because it is not my desire to infringe on the property or the liberty of any one. But I also demand that my own property and liberty be held equally inviolable. The other workmen and I, agreed upon this point, impose upon ourselves some sacrifices; we give up a portion of our labour to some men called public functionaries, because theirs is the special function to secure our labour and its produce from every injury that might befal either from within or from without.

Matters being thus arranged, I prepare to put my intelligence, my arms, my saw, and plane into activity. Naturally my eyes are always fixed on those things necessary to my existence, and which it is my duty to produce indirectly in creating what is equal to them in value. The problem is, that I should produce them in the most advantageous manner possible. Consequently I look at values generally, or what, in other words, may be called the current or market price of articles. I am satisfied, judging from these materials in my possession, that my means for obtaining the largest quantity possible of fuel, for example, with the smallest possible quantity of labour, is to make a piece of furniture, to send it to a Belgian, who will give me in return some coal.

But there is in France a workman who extracts coal from the earth. Now, it so happens that the officials, whom the miner and I contribute to pay for preserving to each of us his freedom of labour, and the free disposal of its produce (which is property), it so happens, I say, that these officials have become newly enlightened and assumed other duties. They have taken it into their heads to compare my labour with that of the miner. Consequently, they have forbidden me to warm myself with Belgian fuel: and when I go to the frontier with my piece of furniture to receive the coal, I find it prohibited from entering France, which comes to the same thing as if they prohibited my piece of furniture from going out. I then reason with myself—if we had never paid the government in order to save us the trouble of defending our own property, would the miner have had the right to go to the frontier to prohibit me from making an advantageous exchange, on the ground that it would be better for him that this exchange should not be effected? Assuredly not. If he had made so unjust an attempt, we would have joined issue on the spot, he, urged on by his unjust pretensions, I, strong in my right of legitimate defence.

We have appointed and paid a public officer for the special purpose of preventing such contests. How does it happen, then, that I find the miner and him concurring in restraining my liberty and hampering my industry, in limiting the field of my exertions? If the public officer had taken my part, I might have conceived his right; he would have derived it from my own; for lawful defence is, indeed, a right. But on what principle should he aid the miner in his injustice? I learn, then, that the public officer has changed his nature. He is no longer a simple mortal invested with rights delegated to him by other men, who, consequently, possess them. No. He is a being superior to humanity, drawing his right from himself, and, amongst these rights, he arrogates to himself that of calculating our profits, of holding the balance between our various circumstances and conditions. It is very well, say I; in that case, I will overwhelm him with claims and demands, while I see a richer man than myself in the country. He will not listen to you, it may be said to me, for if he listen to you, he will be a Communist, and he takes good care not to forget that his duty is to secure properties, not to destroy them.