It is a well-known fact that when words have been long and vigorously
used they gather within and around themselves varied meanings. Some
parts of these meanings are remnants of historic, and possibly outworn,
experience; other parts are the result of more or less deliberate
perversion under the stress of deep feelings aroused by opposition and
fighting. This is especially the fate of words in any way associated
with politics. Think how battered and useless for purposes of ordinary
discussion "democrat" and "republican" or "socialist" have become in
America!
In the struggle of the last fifty years over woman's suffrage, most of
the words involved have undergone such transformations; and so many
prejudices have become associated with them, that no one can think or
speak clearly and fairly to-day in these terms. "Woman's Rights,"
"enfranchisement," "Votes for Women," "suffragette," "polls," "ballot,"
"political issues," and many other words, have gone through this
destructive process.
To read some of the most popular literature on this subject one might
imagine that women had all deserted home and fireside, babies and
baking, and were lined up, struggling fiercely to deposit certain
printed slips, called votes or ballots, dealing with esoteric mysteries
understood only by men like Mr. Bryan or Mr. Roosevelt, in ballot-boxes.
These receptacles are supposed to be behind, or very near, lawless
saloons, where gangs of hoodlums are waiting to assault the bearers of
these mysterious tickets. Thus Miss Seawell writes in the _Atlantic
Monthly_ for September, 1910: "The trouble would begin with the mere
attempt of women to deposit their ballots. A dozen ruffians at a single
polling-place would prevent a single woman from depositing a single
vote. There can be no doubt that this means would be used by the rougher
element and that the polls would become a scene of preordained riot and
disorder." Of course, such statements could not appear in a leading
magazine, in a land where women have been voting quietly for many years,
were it not for the perversity of the words which the author tries to
use, but which really use her. In other periodicals, equally
respectable, one learns that women, goaded on by the intolerable
political tyranny of men, have agreed as one soul to advance, with
ballots in their hands, and sweep graft and greed, drink and all other
human wrongs, into the sea of oblivion forever. Of course, this is
nonsense, or worse, and in this chapter I should like to turn away from
this warfare, leaving even the battered and prejudiced-soaked words
alone, as much as may be possible, and simply ask: What is political
life, not as defined in books, but as actually lived by a
self-respecting farmer or merchant of our acquaintance? What qualities
does political life presuppose in a participant? How does its use affect
him? What does it enable him to accomplish? What is the relation of a
woman--not some militant or unsexed ogre, nor a female breeding animal
in a harem, but our own sisters, wives and daughters as they really
are--what is their relation to this mysterious process?
If one approaches the political life of our modern democracies in this
simple spirit of inquiry it would seem that the first requisite for
participation is the ability to form sound judgments concerning
political matters; and all matters are now becoming political which
affect the welfare of the community. Certainly the citizen cannot devise
political machinery nor select candidates to work such machinery, much
less "cast a ballot," until he knows what he wants done. What are some
of the questions, then, on which he must form judgments?
First of all, he must be prepared to think intelligently about
protecting his life and property. He must know something of the danger
of foreign invasion, of the consequent need of a navy and standing army.
He must make up his mind whether it is necessary to spend $123,000,000
yearly on an American navy and $156,000,000 on an American army, as we
are at present doing, that we may be ready to fight England, Germany or
Japan if at any time we want to do so. He must ask himself whether this
money might not better be used in fighting ignorance, crime, poverty and
disease.
The would-be citizen must also think about protecting himself from
assault as he walks about the streets; about protecting his house from
thieves as he lies asleep at night. He must have thought about the
careless use of cars, automobiles, firearms and explosives in general.
He must consider the danger from fires, contagion, diseases, mobs; he
must think intelligently about contaminated water and impure foods. All
these things are necessary for the physical well-being of the community
life. Of course, if either man or woman cannot think intelligently about
these things, he ought not to have control of them; he should leave such
matters to those who can think of them.
In the second place, the would-be citizen must have fairly sound
judgments on questions of raising and spending necessary revenue. What
are the effects of direct and indirect taxation? Would a heavy tax on
land force unused lands, including mines and waterways, into use? Should
a man with a cash income of $50,000 a year pay more to support
government than one with a cash income of $500? What are the objections
to an income tax? How does it work in England, where it has been fairly
tried? Should a great corporation pay taxes in proportion to its wealth,
and in places where the wealth is protected by the law? If so, how can
it be reached? Should churches, museums, libraries and schools be taxed;
if not, why not? Should taxes be laid on flour, meat and eggs, on woolen
cloth, on silks, velvets, ostrich plumes and diamonds? Should taxes be
laid on whiskey, wines, tobacco, cigars and race-tracks? Should taxes be
devised, or continued, to protect such infant industries as now handle
our kerosene oil, meat, sugar and steel? Surely no one who cannot form
independent judgments on these matters should presume to direct them
through voting.
But not only must a nation raise revenue in the wisest and most
equitable manner possible, and spend it effectively and economically,
but it must also care for its present possessions. So the would-be
citizen must know about the wealth in which he wants to share. What do
the national, State and municipal governments own? How should the vast
domains of land, the onetime inexhaustible forests, the mines of coal
and metal, the waterways and water-powers, the special privileges and
franchises belonging to the people be used? Should they be thrown away,
gambled away, given away as favors, rented, sold, or handled directly by
the people? On what terms or under what guarantees should they be turned
over to individuals or companies, if this is to be done? Those who
cannot form judgments on these matters should not be entrusted with such
vast responsibility, be they men or women.
Questions of our foreign relations must also occupy the thought of the
citizen. Are foreign entanglements necessary or desirable? If so, with
what European or Asiatic nations should we seek to strengthen our
friendship? Are our interests nearly identical with those of England? If
we formed a close defensive alliance with her should we be thereby
aiding universal peace as much as we might by maintaining more generally
friendly relations with all European powers? Would an alliance with
England probably draw us into her troubles, if she has any, in Egypt or
India? How would such an alliance affect our relation with England's
present ally, Japan? Are we fitted by the genius of our institutions
and by our experience to handle a foreign empire? If not, what should
we do with the Philippines?
So, too, those who are to direct the destinies of the country must think
out what our relations are to be with Latin America. In the past some
statesman, a Richelieu or a Bismarck, had a policy and led his nation to
it by devious paths of indirection. But now that each citizen is a king,
he must have a policy for his realm. Are our republican neighbors to the
south to be increasingly recognized as under our protection and
direction? If so, how are we to maintain the peace and secure payment of
their foreign debts? All these problems are bound up with the management
of the Panama Canal. They confront us in different forms in connection
with immigration, especially of Asiatics.
Our institutional life must also be regulated by the citizens, and so
they must have judgments about each of its details. They must know what
they think about the family, forms of legal marriage and divorce, and
the care of children when the family fails. The Church must be
considered and protected; possibly it should be encouraged; and
possibly its unwarranted assumption should sometimes be checked. Schools
must be founded, supported, directed. Art galleries, museums and clubs
must be chartered, and then controlled; and so must all the other
institutions of our modern society. The would-be citizen must be able to
think about all this work.
Industries, on which our individual and collective well-being depend,
must be encouraged by special favors, limited to the public good,
protected from violence, inspected in the interest of employees. Hours
must be regulated, disputes settled, conditions of labor and safety
secured. Children should be protected against employers' greed; and
working women must receive special consideration, if the race of strong
men is to continue. Here again the citizen must have judgments, or the
power to make judgments, as new needs arise.
Then, too, there is a tradition of government, established by the
fathers and modified by experience, which should be understood by the
citizens. It recognizes certain rights as being reserved by the
individual States, and others as belonging to the national government.
The would-be citizen should be acquainted with this tradition so that he
can determine how far it is desirable to adopt a new nationalism. He
will have to pass judgment on the control of interstate commerce,
national or State control of public lands, national divorce and liquor
laws, national food inspection, and other practical subjects which may
destroy the older balance of power so jealously guarded by our earlier
statesmen. The citizen must make up his mind if this is desirable.
Newer political theories must also receive the citizens' attention. Many
people believe that wealth created by the people can be enjoyed by the
people only when they control the sources of supply and the means of
production and distribution. The citizen should know whether these
socialist tendencies should be favored or suppressed. There are others
who believe that government is unnecessary, and that men and women can
be happy and effective only when formal laws are abrogated. The citizen
must determine whether he will allow those who hold such doctrines to
express them; or whether he will suppress their meetings and forbid
them to enter the country. These are but a few of the subjects
concerning which the citizen must think, but they are typical and they
may represent the rest.
In the last analysis, it is these judgments on political matters which
govern a modern democracy, whatever the laws on the statute books may
be, and whatever machinery of government may be established.
Not long since, I visited one of our States where the laws forbid any
one to make or sell, as a beverage, any intoxicating liquors, within the
State. At the leading hotel, in the large city where I stopped, beer and
whiskey signs were displayed outside the entrance; and at an open bar,
in the center of the hotel, four bartenders were dispensing all kinds of
drinks, while at the tables of the hotel restaurant, liquors were openly
bought and drunk. There are many indictments standing against this
hotel, but in two test cases juries have refused to convict the
proprietors. I am told it is the same in all of the principal hotels in
the larger cities of this State. In this same State, the laws forbid the
manufacture or sale of cigarettes, but they are openly displayed and
sold in nearly all cigar stores. In the same State, whites and blacks
live under the same laws, but blacks seldom vote; they do not use the
parks, attend white people's meetings nor ride with the whites in public
conveyances. And yet the city was quiet and orderly and I felt as safe
in person and property as though the laws on the statute books, instead
of the judgments in the public mind, were being obeyed. Since this form
of public opinion is so powerful, it is well that it should be
intelligent.
Granted, then, that the candidate for citizen honors is prepared to pass
judgment on such matters as we have indicated, he must next be prepared
to devise and control means to carry these judgments into effect. Here
he approaches the problems of statescraft. He must have in his mind a
general scheme of government, with a sense of legislative, judicial and
executive functions. He must realize the value of a constitution, as a
point of departure; and have a theory as to safe ways of modifying it.
He must have fairly clear notions of legislation, and of the kinds of
laws that are desirable and effective. He should know how far
representative legislative bodies can be trusted to express the will of
the people; and he should have studied the working of the initiative and
the referendum. It is also desirable that he should know the theory of
two chambers, and should have ideas as to how the members of the second
chamber, if there is to be one, should be chosen.
The candidate for citizen honors should know something of the
organization of the judicial branch of government. He should know
something of the powers and duties of local magistrates, of county,
State and national courts. He should recognize the difference between
civil and criminal jurisdiction. He should have an opinion as to whether
judges should be elected or appointed, and if appointed, who should
select them. He should realize the grave dangers that surround a corrupt
judiciary, and he should know the means by which a court is enabled to
maintain its standing and authority.
So of the executive power, he should see its relation to the other
powers, from the constable to the president. He should know the
qualities required in a good executive and should be able to
distinguish them in possible candidates. He should know that when the
executive is lax the best of laws fall into abeyance, and he should know
how such officers can be held up, through criticism by public opinion
and penalties, to the fulfilment of duties. The recall should have been
considered.
In the third place, the citizen should know how to select the right kind
of people to carry his political judgments into effect. Possibly, under
a representative form of government, this is the most necessary
qualification for a good voter. Many of the matters with which modern
government must deal are technical, and the citizen here, as in his
private affairs, must rest on the judgment of those he employs. And yet,
in general, he must know what he wants.
He must know the general laws that govern the organization of parties;
and he should be somewhat acquainted with the psychology of crowds. He
should know how candidates are selected under the convention or caucus
system; he should have an independent judgment on direct primaries.
In selecting men, the citizen must be able to recognize general ability
and intellectual fitness. It is at this point that modern democracies
are most apt to go wrong. The standards by which we measure men and
women are most imperfect; and we are prone to let one good or bad
quality overshadow all others. Thus in an extended study on school
children's attitude toward Queen Victoria in England, and toward
President McKinley in America, made while these rulers were alive, we
found that less than twenty per cent. mentioned any kind of political
ability, nor did they often mention their general ability, nor their
honesty. They admired them primarily because they were "good and kind."
In other words the school children of these two lands approve their
rulers because, in a vague general way, they like them.[43] The
significance of the study lies in the fact that in all democracies a
large number of the voters live on an intellectual plane represented by
these school children.
[43] EARL BARNES, _Studies in Education_, Vol. II, pp. _5-80_.
Philadelphia, 1902.
This conclusion is borne out by the judgment of Miss Jane Addams who,
writing of foreign voters about Hull House, says: "The desire of the
Italian and Polish and Hungarian voters in an American city to be
represented by 'a good man' is not a whit less strenuous than that of
the best native stock. Only their idea of the good man is somewhat
different. He must be good according to their highest standard of
goodness. He must be kind to the poor, not only in a general way, but
with particular and unfailing attention to their every want and
misfortune. Their joys he must brighten and their sorrows he must
alleviate. In emergency, in catastrophe, in misunderstanding with
employers and with the law, he must be their strong tower of help. Let
him in all these things fill up their ideal of the 'good man' and he has
their votes at his absolute disposal."[44]
[44] JANE ADDAMS, _Democracy_, p. 221. New York: The Macmillan Co.,
1902.
To be a safe citizen one must be able to go beyond this kindly feeling
and ask, Does the candidate know enough to do what I want done? Has he
the honesty to resist the temptation to exploit me? Has he the
leadership to command the best efforts of the subordinates in his
department? Has he serious defects that may cause his failure? Is he an
opportune man for the time and place?
This selection is made very difficult to-day by the misrepresentation of
interested individuals and political parties; and especially by the
reports in the press, which seek to discredit candidates they oppose,
and to gloss over or deny defects in their chosen leaders. Thus the
whole public atmosphere in the midst of a campaign is intended to
confuse and bewilder the citizen who is honestly seeking the best
candidate. Only ripened intelligence, experience with men and women, and
ability to judge conflicting evidence, can enable the voter to select
wisely.
In the last place, if the citizen knows what he wants, how to devise the
governmental machinery to get it, and how to select the right men to see
that it is done, he must register his desire by a vote; and then watch
his servant carefully to see if he justifies the trust imposed in him.
If he does not, then the citizen must criticise, threaten, and, if
necessary, finally dismiss the unfaithful employee. Only one who can
fulfil all these functions can be considered a desirable citizen from
the point of view of a modern democracy. "Eternal vigilance is the price
of liberty."
And why should one desire to undertake this arduous responsibility? In
the first place, because he wants the public work well done, as he
understands it; and the only way to have it done in this manner is to
attend to it himself. If he does not attend to it, some one else will do
so; and if the intelligent citizens do not look after it then the public
business will be exploited by individuals, or groups, in their own
interest; and, before the citizen realizes what is happening, he will be
deprived of that political liberty to secure which millions of men and
women have struggled and suffered and even given their lives in the
years which lie behind us.
And yet possibly the most important value of participation in political
life to-day is the byproduct of continuous education which it gives.
Modern political life has probably done more to train the men involved
in it than have schools or churches. Business and industries alone might
claim to be its rivals. In a despotism, all the events of public life
are uncertain and seemingly accidental, depending as they do on the
caprice of an individual. This discourages thought among the masses,
paralyzes action, and breeds inertia and hopelessness. At best, it gives
rise to periods of desperation and violence; at its worst, it gives us
the hopeless masses of Mohammedan lands. In a free democracy, on the
other hand, those who participate are in a continuous process of
education, judging, selecting, willing, and always with regard to
realities that affect daily life. Citizenship gives one a continuous
laboratory course of training in the art of right living.
Nor can the full value of this continuous training be obtained by the
onlooker, no matter how intelligent he may be. For full growth of mind
and spirit one must participate; just as in athletics one must leave the
spectator's bench and play the game if one would develop one's own
powers. Participation means love, hate, devotion and sacrifice, and only
when all these powers of the soul are brought into play, together with
the judgment, is the character strengthened and life more abundantly
obtained.
It must be evident to any one who has carefully followed this analysis
that hardly any of the adult male voters in our modern democracies have
the qualifications of good citizens. How, then, is good government
achieved? It is not achieved. We have very bad government. Everywhere
there is waste and inefficiency. Wealth is unjustly divided; great
corporations seize public utilities and exploit them for private gain;
enormous sums are squandered on unnecessary and dangerous battle-ships
and soldiers; in building a single State Capitol, $3,500,000 was
recently stolen, not only wasting public wealth, but corrupting public
morals; in some parts of our land little children still drive the wheels
of industry; and it is everywhere cheaper to scrap-heap men and women
than machines; most of our cities are ugly and badly ruled; drunkenness,
gambling and prostitution are common; life is not always secure from
lawless attack; and the machinery of justice is clogged and moves
slowly. Part of our intelligent adult population has no direct share in
the government under which it must live. We have just such a government
as we should expect where incompetent people decide such vast issues of
life.
But, on the other hand, we are vastly better off than any great people
has ever been before us. The mistakes are our own; they are made by us
who participate in government, and we are learning from them. Those who
exploit us may be called to account; and frequently they are caught and
punished. Of those who stole the millions in Harrisburg, nearly a score
have died disgraced, or are in prison or exile; and $1,300,000 has been
returned to the treasury of the State. Even when those who betray us are
not caught red-handed we learn to distrust and then to despise them.
They pass their last years in exile, and when their statues are erected
in our State Houses they are memorials of shame. Thus we learn the art
of living, we who participate in political action.
The whole business of a modern democracy is to educate itself through
doing, and we are all at school. If the bills are heavy, they are our
bills; and we are steadily learning how to make them less. In the past
no one learned. "The Bourbons learned nothing, and forgot nothing;" and
the common people were too discouraged to think. It is on these lines
that our modern democracies must be judged, not as efficient and
economical political machines, but as educational institutions. Judged
by this standard, we believe ourselves to be the triumph of the ages.
Nor can it be possible for people to enter political life fully prepared
for its duties. Even when a young man approaches a business career we do
not ask that he shall possess a knowledge of the business before
beginning. If he has general preparation, and a desire to learn, he is
admitted to share in its responsibilities, and then learns as he goes
along. It is the same in political life; few young men at twenty-one or
foreigners at the time of naturalization, have the knowledge indicated
in the preceding pages. If they have general preparation and a desire to
learn, we admit them to participation, and they learn through doing.
Years ago, while discussing education with an English statesman, he
asked whom I considered the leaders of education in his country. Knowing
his Tory instincts, I replied, "Bradlaugh, Annie Besant, William T.
Stead, John Burns and Keir Hardie." He laughed contemptuously: "Why
those people," he said, "are merely educating themselves in public." The
statement was true and far-reaching; that is what we are all doing in
our modern democracies; and that is at the same time our weakness and
our glory.