The Rise of the Democracy

by Joseph Clayton

Spence died in 1814, and the movement for abolishing the landlords in favour of common ownership languished and stopped. The interesting thing about Spence's "Plan" is its anticipation of Henry George's propaganda for a Single Tax on Land Values, and the extinction of all other methods of raising national revenue, a propaganda that, in a modified form for the taxation of land values, has already earned the approval of the House of Commons.

Practical Politics and Democratic Ideals

Because we insist on the experimental character of our British political progress, and the steady refusal to accept speculative ideas and a priori deductions in politics, it does not follow that the services of the idealist are to be unrecognised.

The work of the idealist, whether he is a writer or a man of action—and sometimes, as in the case of Mazzini, he is both—is to stir the souls of men and shake them out of sluggish torpor, or rouse them from gross absorption in personal gain, and from dull, self-satisfied complacency. He is the prophet, the agitator, the pioneer, and after him follow the responsible statesmen, who rarely see far ahead or venture on new paths. Once or twice in the world's history the practical statesman is an idealist, as Abraham Lincoln was, but the combination of qualities is unusual. The political idealist gets his vision in solitary places, the democratic statesman gets his experience of men by rubbing shoulders with the crowd.

A democratic nation must have its seers and prophets, lest it forget its high calling to press forward, and so sink in the slough of contented ease. The preacher of ideals is the architect of a nation's hopes and desires, and the fulfilment of these hopes and desires will depend on the wisdom of its political builders—the practical politicians. Often enough the structural alterations are so extensive that the architect does not recognise his plan; and that is probably as it should be; for it is quite likely that the architect left out of account so simple a matter as the staircase in his house beautiful, and the builder is bound to adapt the plan to ordinary human needs.

The idealist has a faith in the future of his cause that exceeds the average faith, and in his sure confidence fails to understand why his neighbours will not follow at his call, or move more rapidly; and so he fails as a practical leader.

Here the work of the statesman and politician comes in. They are nearer to the mass of people, they hold their authority by election of the people, and they understand that the rate of speed must be slow. Under the guidance of their political leaders, the people are willing to move.

Sometimes the idealist is frankly revolutionary, is for beginning anew in politics, and starting society all over again. If the state of things is bad enough, he may get into power, as he did in France at the Revolution, and for a time the world will stagger at his doings. But there is no beginning de novo in politics, and the revolutions wrought by men who would give the world an entirely fresh start (to be distinguished from mere changes of dynasty, such as our English Revolution was) have their sandy foundations washed away by the floods of reaction.

There is no such absolute escape from the past for men or nations, and we can only build our new social and political order on the foundations of experience. But we may not be moved to build at all but for the prophet and the agitator, and therefore the instinct that makes governments slay or imprison the political agitator and suppress the writings of political prophets can be understood. For the existence of every government is threatened by prophets and agitators, and in self-defence it resists innovation. A healthy democracy will allow too many opportunities for popular expression to fear innovation; yet even under a democracy the prophets have been stoned—their sepulchres to be subsequently erected by public subscription and handsomely decorated.

Democracy owes too much to its prophets in the past not to rejoice at their presence in its midst. But it will prudently leave the direction of its public affairs to men who, less gifted it may be in finding new paths, are more experienced in making the roads that others have discovered fit for the heavy tread of multitudes.