GOVERNMENT AND LAW
GOVERNMENT and Law, in their very essence, consist
of restrictions on freedom, and freedom is the
greatest of political goods.[46] A hasty reasoner might
conclude without further ado that Law and government
are evils which must be abolished if freedom
is our goal. But this consequence, true or false, cannot
be proved so simply. In this chapter we shall
examine the arguments of Anarchists against law and
the State. We shall proceed on the assumption that
freedom is the supreme aim of a good social system;
but on this very basis we shall find the Anarchist
contentions very questionable.
[46] I do not say freedom is the greatest of ALL goods: the best
things come from within--they are such things as creative art,
and love, and thought. Such things can be helped or hindered
by political conditions, but not actually produced by them; and
freedom is, both in itself and in its relation to these other goods
the best thing that political and economic conditions can secure.
Respect for the liberty of others is not a natural
impulse with most men: envy and love of power lead
ordinary human nature to find pleasure in interferences
with the lives of others. If all men's actions
were wholly unchecked by external authority, we
should not obtain a world in which all men would be
free. The strong would oppress the weak, or the
majority would oppress the minority, or the lovers
of violence would oppress the more peaceable people.
I fear it cannot be said that these bad impulses are
WHOLLY due to a bad social system, though it must
be conceded that the present competitive organization
of society does a great deal to foster the worst
elements in human nature. The love of power is an
impulse which, though innate in very ambitious men,
is chiefly promoted as a rule by the actual experience
of power. In a world where none could acquire
much power, the desire to tyrannize would be much
less strong than it is at present. Nevertheless, I
cannot think that it would be wholly absent, and
those in whom it would exist would often be men of
unusual energy and executive capacity. Such men,
if they are not restrained by the organized will of
the community, may either succeed in establishing
a despotism, or, at any rate, make such a vigorous
attempt as can only be defeated through a period
of prolonged disturbance. And apart from the love
or political power, there is the love of power over
individuals. If threats and terrorism were not prevented
by law, it can hardly be doubted that cruelty would
be rife in the relations of men and women, and of
parents and children. It is true that the habits of
a community can make such cruelty rare, but these
habits, I fear, are only to be produced through the
prolonged reign of law. Experience of backwoods
communities, mining camps and other such places
seems to show that under new conditions men easily
revert to a more barbarous attitude and practice.
It would seem, therefore, that, while human nature
remains as it is, there will be more liberty for all in a
community where some acts of tyranny by individuals
are forbidden, than in a community where the law
leaves each individual free to follow his every impulse.
But, although the necessity of some form of government
and law must for the present be conceded, it is
important to remember that all law and government
is in itself in some degree an evil, only justifiable when
it prevents other and greater evils. Every use of the
power of the State needs, therefore, to be very closely
scrutinized, and every possibility of diminishing its
power is to be welcomed provided it does not lead to
a reign of private tyranny.
The power of the State is partly legal, partly
economic: acts of a kind which the State dislikes can
be punished by the criminal law, and individuals who
incur the displeasure of the State may find it hard
to earn a livelihood.
The views of Marx on the State are not very
clear. On the one hand he seems willing,, like the
modern State Socialists, to allow great power to the
State, but on the other hand he suggests that when
the Socialist revolution has been consummated, the
State, as we know it, will disappear. Among the
measures which are advocated in the Communist
Manifesto as immediately desirable, there are several
which would very greatly increase the power of
the existing State. For example, ``Centralization
of credit in the hands of the State, by means of a
national bank with State capital and an exclusive
monopoly;'' and again, ``Centralization of the
means of communication and transport in the hands
of the State.'' But the Manifesto goes on to say:
When, in the course of development, class distinctions
have disappeared, and all production has been concentrated
in the hands of a vast association of the whole
nation, the public power will lose its political character.
Political power, properly so called, is merely the organised
power of one class for oppressing another. If the
proletariat during its contest with the bourgeoisie is
compelled, by the force of circumstances, to organize
itself as a class, if, by means of a revolution, it makes
itself the ruling class, and, as such, sweeps away by
force the old conditions of production, then it will,
along with these conditions, have swept away the conditions
for the existence of class antagonisms, and of
classes generally, and will thereby have abolished its
own supremacy as a class.
In place of the old bourgeois society, with its classes
and class antagonisms, we shall have an association, in
which; the free development of each is the condition for
the free development of all.[47]
[47] Communist Manifesto, p. 22.
This attitude Marx preserved in essentials
throughout his life. Accordingly, it is not to be
wondered at that his followers, so far as regards their
immediate aims, have in the main become out-and-out
State Socialists. On the other hand, the Syndicalists,
who accept from Marx the doctrine of the class
war, which they regard as what is really vital in his
teaching, reject the State with abhorrence and wish
to abolish it wholly, in which respect they are at one
with the Anarchists. The Guild Socialists, though
some persons in this country regard them as extremists,
really represent the English love of compromise.
The Syndicalist arguments as to the dangers inherent
in the power of the State have made them dissatisfied
with the old State Socialism, but they are
unable to accept the Anarchist view that society can
dispense altogether with a central authority.
Accordingly they propose that there should be two
co-equal instruments of Government in a community,
the one geographical, representing the consumers,
and essentially the continuation of the democratic
State; the other representing the producers, organized,
not geographically, but in guilds, after the
manner of industrial unionism. These two author-
ities will deal with different classes of questions.
Guild Socialists do not regard the industrial authority
as forming part of the State, for they contend
that it is the essence of the State to be geographical;
but the industrial authority will resemble the present
State in the fact that it will have coercive powers,
and that its decrees will be enforced, when necessary.
It is to be suspected that Syndicalists also, much as
they object to the existing State, would not object
to coercion of individuals in an industry by the
Trade Union in that industry. Government within
the Trade Union would probably be quite as strict
as State government is now. In saying this we are
assuming that the theoretical Anarchism of Syndicalist
leaders would not survive accession to power,
but I am afraid experience shows that this is not a
very hazardous assumption.
Among all these different views, the one which
raises the deepest issue is the Anarchist contention
that all coercion by the community is unnecessary.
Like most of the things that Anarchists say, there
is much more to be urged in support of this view
than most people would suppose at first sight. Kropotkin,
who is its ablest exponent, points out how
much has been achieved already by the method of free
agreement. He does not wish to abolish government
in the sense of collective decisions: what he does wish
to abolish is the system by which a decision is en-
forced upon those who oppose it.[48] The whole system
of representative government and majority rule is
to him a bad thing.[49] He points to such instances
as the agreements among the different railway systems
of the Continent for the running of through
expresses and for co-operation generally. He points
out that in such cases the different companies or
authorities concerned each appoint a delegate, and that
the delegates suggest a basis of agreement, which has
to be subsequently ratified by each of the bodies ap-
pointing them. The assembly of delegates has no
coercive power whatever, and a majority can do
nothing against a recalcitrant minority. Yet this has
not prevented the conclusion of very elaborate systems
of agreements. By such methods, so Anarchists
contend, the USEFUL functions of government can be
carried out without any coercion. They maintain
that the usefulness of agreement is so patent as to
make co-operation certain if once the predatory
motives associated with the present system of private
property were removed.
[48] ``On the other hand, the STATE has also been confused with
GOVERNMENT. As there can be no State without government, it
has been sometimes said that it is the absence of government,
and not the abolition of the State, that should be the aim.
``It seems to me, however, that State and government represent
two ideas of a different kind. The State idea implies quite
another idea to that of government. It not only includes the
existence of a power placed above society, but also a territorial
concentration and a concentration of many functions of the life
of society in the hands of a few or even of all. It implies new
relations among the members of society.
``This characteristic distinction, which perhaps escapes
notice at first sight, appears clearly when the origin of the State
is studied.'' Kropotkin, ``The State.'' p. 4.
[49] Representative government has accomplished its historical
mission; it has given a mortal blow to Court-rule; and by
its debates it has awakened public interest in public questions.
But, to see in it the government of the future Socialist society,
is to commit a gross error. Each economical phase of life
implies its own political phase; and it is impossible to touch the
very basis of the present economical life--private property--
without a corresponding change in the very basis of the political
organization. Life already shows in which direction the change
will be made. Not in increasing the powers of the State, but
in resorting to free organization and free federation in all those
branches which are now considered as attributes of the State.''
Kropotkin, ``Anarchist Communism,'' pp. 28-29.
Attractive as this view is, I cannot resist the
conclusion that it results from impatience and
represents the attempt to find a short-cut toward the
ideal which all humane people desire.
Let us begin with the question of private crime.[50]
Anarchists maintain that the criminal is manufactured
by bad social conditions and would disappear
in such a world as they aim at creating.[51] No doubt
there is a great measure of truth in this view. There
would be little motive to robbery, for example, in an
Anarchist world, unless it were organized on a large
scale by a body of men bent on upsetting the Anarchist
regime. It may also be conceded that impulses
toward criminal violence could be very largely eliminated
by a better education. But all such contentions,
it seems to me, have their limitations. To take
an extreme case, we cannot suppose that there would
be no lunatics in an Anarchist community, and some
of these lunatics would, no doubt, be homicidal.
Probably no one would argue that they ought to be
left at liberty. But there are no sharp lines in nature;
from the homicidal lunatic to the sane man
of violent passions there is a continuous gradation.
Even in the most perfect community there will be
men and women, otherwise sane, who will feel an
impulse to commit murder from jealousy. These are
now usually restrained by the fear of punishment,
but if this fear were removed, such murders would
probably become much more common, as may be
seen from the present behavior of certain soldiers
on leave. Moreover, certain kinds of conduct arouse
public hostility, and would almost inevitably lead to
lynching, if no other recognized method of punishment
existed. There is in most men a certain natural
vindictiveness, not always directed against the worst
members of the community. For example, Spinoza
was very nearly murdered by the mob because he was
suspected of undue friendliness to France at a time
when Holland was at war with that country. Apart
from such cases, there would be the very real danger
of an organized attempt to destroy Anarchism
and revive ancient oppressions. Is it to be supposed,
for example, that Napoleon, if he had been born into
such a community as Kropotkin advocates, would
have acquiesced tamely in a world where his genius
could find no scope? I cannot see what should prevent
a combination of ambitious men forming themselves
into a private army, manufacturing their own
munitions, and at last enslaving the defenseless citizens,
who had relied upon the inherent attractiveness
of liberty. It would not be consistent with the principles
of Anarchism for the community to interfere
with the drilling of a private army, no matter what
its objects might be (though, of course, an opposing
private army might be formed by men with different
views). Indeed, Kropotkin instances the old volunteers
in Great Britain as an example of a movement
on Anarchist lines.[52] Even if a predatory army were
not formed from within, it might easily come from a
neighboring nation, or from races on the borderland
of civilization. So long as the love of power exists,
I do not see how it can be prevented from finding an
outlet in oppression except by means of the organized
force of the community.
[50] On this subject there is an excellent discussion in the
before-mentioned work of Monsieur Naquet.
[51] ``As to the third--the chief--objection, which maintains
the necessity of a government for punishing those who break the
law of society, there is so much to say about it that it hardly can
be touched incidentally. The more we study the question, the
more we are brought to the conclusion that society itself is
responsible for the anti-social deeds perpetrated in its midst, and
that no punishment, no prisons, and no hangmen can diminish
the numbers of such deeds; nothing short of a reorganization of
society itself. Three-quarters of all the acts which are brought
every year before our courts have their origin, either directly or
indirectly, in the present disorganized state of society with
regard to the production and distribution of wealth--not in the
perversity of human nature. As to the relatively few anti-social
deeds which result from anti-social inclinations of separate
individuals, it is not by prisons, nor even by resorting to the
hangmen, that we can diminish their numbers. By our prisons,
we merely multiply them and render them worse. By our detectives,
our `price of blood,' our executions, and our jails, we
spread in society such a terrible flow of basest passions and
habits, that he who should realize the effects of these institutions
to their full extent, would be frightened by what society is
doing under the pretext of maintaining morality. We must
search for other remedies, and the remedies have been indicated
long since.'' Kropotkin, ``Anarchist Communism,'' pp. 31-32.
[52] ``Anarchist Communism,'' p. 27.
The conclusion, which appears to be forced upon
us, is that the Anarchist ideal of a community in
which no acts are forbidden by law is not, at any
rate for the present, compatible with the stability of
such a world as the Anarchists desire. In order to
obtain and preserve a world resembling as closely
as possible that at which they aim, it will still be
necessary that some acts should be forbidden by
law. We may put the chief of these under three
heads:
1. Theft.
2. Crimes of violence.
3. The creation of organizations intended to subvert
the Anarchist regime by force.
We will briefly recapitulate what has been said
already as to the necessity of these prohibitions.
1. Theft.--It is true that in an Anarchist world
there will be no destitution, and therefore no thefts
motivated by starvation. But such thefts are at present
by no means the most considerable or the most
harmful. The system of rationing, which is to be
applied to luxuries, will leave many men with fewer
luxuries than they might desire. It will give
opportunities for peculation by those who are in control
of the public stores, and it will leave the possibility of
appropriating such valuable objects of art as would
naturally be preserved in public museums. It may
be contended that such forms of theft would be prevented
by public opinion. But public opinion is not
greatly operative upon an individual unless it is the
opinion of his own group. A group of men combined
for purposes of theft might readily defy the public
opinion of the majority unless that public opinion
made itself effective by the use of force against them.
Probably, in fact, such force would be applied
through popular indignation, but in that case we
should revive the evils of the criminal law with the
added evils of uncertainty, haste and passion, which
are inseparable from the practice of lynching. If,
as we have suggested, it were found necessary to provide
an economic stimulus to work by allowing fewer
luxuries to idlers, this would afford a new motive for
theft on their part and a new necessity for some form
of criminal law.
2. Crimes of Violence.--Cruelty to children,
crimes of jealousy, rape, and so forth, are almost
certain to occur in any society to some extent. The
prevention of such acts is essential to the existence
of freedom for the weak. If nothing were done to
hinder them, it is to be feared that the customs of a
society would gradually become rougher, and that
acts which are now rare would cease to be so. If
Anarchists are right in maintaining that the existence
of such an economic system as they desire would
prevent the commission of crimes of this kind, the
laws forbidding them would no longer come into
operation, and would do no harm to liberty. If, on
the other hand, the impulse to such actions persisted,
it would be necessary that steps should be taken to
restrain men from indulging it.
3. The third class of difficulties is much the most
serious and involves much the most drastic interference
with liberty. I do not see how a private army
could be tolerated within an Anarchist community,
and I do not see how it could be prevented except by
a general prohibition of carrying arms. If there
were no such prohibition, rival parties would organize
rival forces, and civil war would result. Yet, if there
is such a prohibition, it cannot well be carried out
without a very considerable interference with individual
liberty. No doubt, after a time, the idea of
using violence to achieve a political object might die
down, as the practice of duelling has done. But such
changes of habit and outlook are facilitated by legal
prohibition, and would hardly come about without
it. I shall not speak yet of the international aspect
of this same problem, for I propose to deal with that
in the next chapter, but it is clear that the same
considerations apply with even greater force to the
relations between nations.
If we admit, however reluctantly, that a criminal
law is necessary and that the force of the community
must be brought to bear to prevent certain kinds of
actions, a further question arises: How is crime to be
treated? What is the greatest measure of humanity
and respect for freedom that is compatible with the
recognition of such a thing as crime? The first thing
to recognize is that the whole conception of guilt or
sin should be utterly swept away. At present, the
criminal is visited with the displeasure of the community:
the sole method applied to prevent the occurrence
of crime is the infliction of pain upon the
criminal. Everything possible is done to break his
spirit and destroy his self-respect. Even those
pleasures which would be most likely to have a civilizing
effect are forbidden to him, merely on the ground
that they are pleasures, while much of the suffering
inflicted is of a kind which can only brutalize and
degrade still further. I am not speaking, of course,
of those few penal institutions which have made a
serious study of reforming the criminal. Such
institutions, especially in America, have been proved
capable of achieving the most remarkable results, but
they remain everywhere exceptional. The broad rule
is still that the criminal is made to feel the displeasure
of society. He must emerge from such a treatment
either defiant and hostile, or submissive and cringing,
with a broken spirit and a loss of self-respect.
Neither of these results is anything but evil. Nor
can any good result be achieved by a method of treatment
which embodies reprobation.
When a man is suffering from an infectious disease
he is a danger to the community, and it is necessary
to restrict his liberty of movement. But no one
associates any idea of guilt with such a situation.
On the contrary, he is an object of commiseration to
his friends. Such steps as science recommends are
taken to cure him of his disease, and he submits as
a rule without reluctance to the curtailment of liberty
involved meanwhile. The same method in spirit ought
to be shown in the treatment of what is called
``crime.'' It is supposed, of course, that the criminal
is actuated by calculations of self-interest, and
that the fear of punishment, by supplying a contrary
motive of self-interest affords the best deterrent,
The dog, to gain some private end,
Went mad and bit the man.
This is the popular view of crime; yet no dog goes
mad from choice, and probably the same is true of the
great majority of criminals, certainly in the case
of crimes of passion. Even in cases where self-interest
is the motive, the important thing is to prevent
the crime, not to make the criminal suffer. Any
suffering which may be entailed by the process of
prevention ought to be regarded as regrettable, like the
pain involved in a surgical operation. The man who
commits a crime from an impulse to violence ought
to be subjected to a scientific psychological treatment,
designed to elicit more beneficial impulses. The
man who commits a crime from calculations of self-
interest ought to be made to feel that self-interest
itself, when it is fully understood, can be better served
by a life which is useful to the community than by one
which is harmful. For this purpose it is chiefly necessary
to widen his outlook and increase the scope of his
desires. At present, when a man suffers from insufficient
love for his fellow-creatures, the method of
curing him which is commonly adopted seems scarcely
designed to succeed, being, indeed, in essentials, the
same as his attitude toward them. The object of
the prison administration is to save trouble, not to
study the individual case. He is kept in captivity in
a cell from which all sight of the earth is shut out: he
is subjected to harshness by warders, who have too
often become brutalized by their occupation.[53] He is
solemnly denounced as an enemy to society. He is
compelled to perform mechanical tasks, chosen for
their wearisomeness. He is given no education and no
incentive to self-improvement. Is it to be wondered
at if, at the end of such a course of treatment, his
feelings toward the community are no more friendly
than they were at the beginning?
[53] This was written before the author had any personal
experience of the prison system. He personally met with
nothing but kindness at the hands of the prison officials.
Severity of punishment arose through vindictiveness
and fear in an age when many criminals escaped
justice altogether, and it was hoped that savage
sentences would outweigh the chance of escape in the
mind of the criminal. At present a very large part
of the criminal law is concerned in safeguarding the
rights of property, that is to say--as things are
now--the unjust privileges of the rich. Those whose
principles lead them into conflict with government,
like Anarchists, bring a most formidable indictment
against the law and the authorities for the unjust
manner in which they support the status quo. Many
of the actions by which men have become rich are far
more harmful to the community than the obscure
crimes of poor men, yet they go unpunished because
they do not interfere with the existing order. If the
power of the community is to be brought to bear to
prevent certain classes of actions through the agency
of the criminal law, it is as necessary that these
actions should really be those which are harmful to
the community, as it is that the treatment of ``criminals''
should be freed from the conception of guilt
and inspired by the same spirit as is shown in the
treatment of disease. But, if these two conditions
were fulfilled, I cannot help thinking that a society
which preserved the existence of law would be preferable
to one conducted on the unadulterated principles
of Anarchism.
So far we have been considering the power which
the State derives from the criminal law. We have
every reason to think that this power cannot be
entirely abolished, though it can be exercised in a
wholly different spirit, without the vindictiveness and
the moral reprobation which now form its essence.
We come next to the consideration of the economic
power of the State and the influence which it
can exert through its bureaucracy. State Socialists
argue as if there would be no danger to liberty in a
State not based upon capitalism. This seems to me an
entire delusion. Given an official caste, however selected,
there are bound to be a set of men whose whole
instincts will drive them toward tyranny. Together
with the natural love of power, they will have a rooted
conviction (visible now in the higher ranks of the
Civil Service) that they alone know enough to be able
to judge what is for the good of the community. Like
all men who administer a system, they will come to
feel the system itself sacrosanct. The only changes
they will desire will be changes in the direction of
further regulations as to how the people are to
enjoy the good things kindly granted to them by their
benevolent despots. Whoever thinks this picture overdrawn
must have failed to study the influence and
methods of Civil Servants at present. On every matter
that arises, they know far more than the general
public about all the DEFINITE facts involved; the one
thing they do not know is ``where the shoe pinches.''
But those who know this are probably not skilled in
stating their case, not able to say off-hand exactly
how many shoes are pinching how many feet, or what
is the precise remedy required. The answer prepared
for Ministers by the Civil Service is accepted by the
``respectable'' public as impartial, and is regarded
as disposing of the case of malcontents except on a
first-class political question on which elections may
be won or lost. That at least is the way in which
things are managed in England. And there is every
reason to fear that under State Socialism the power
of officials would be vastly greater than it is at
present.
Those who accept the orthodox doctrine of democracy
contend that, if ever the power of capital were
removed, representative institutions would suffice to
undo the evils threatened by bureaucracy. Against
this view, Anarchists and Syndicalists have directed
a merciless criticism. French Syndicalists especially,
living, as they do, in a highly democratized country,
have had bitter experience of the way in which the
power of the State can be employed against a
progressive minority. This experience has led them to
abandon altogether the belief in the divine right of
majorities. The Constitution that they would desire
would be one which allowed scope for vigorous minorities,
conscious of their aims and prepared to work
for them. It is undeniable that, to all who care for
progress, actual experience of democratic representative
Government is very disillusioning. Admitting--
as I think we must--that it is preferable to any
PREVIOUS form of Government, we must yet acknowledge
that much of the criticism directed against it by
Anarchists and Syndicalists is thoroughly justified.
Such criticism would have had more influence if
any clear idea of an alternative to parliamentary
democracy had been generally apprehended. But it
must be confessed that Syndicalists have not presented
their case in a way which is likely to attract
the average citizen. Much of what they say amounts
to this: that a minority, consisting of skilled workers
in vital industries, can, by a strike, make the economic
life of the whole community impossible, and can in
this way force their will upon the nation. The action
aimed at is compared to the seizure of a power
station, by which a whole vast system can be paralyzed.
Such a doctrine is an appeal to force, and
is naturally met by an appeal to force on the other
side. It is useless for the Syndicalists to protest that
they only desire power in order to promote liberty:
the world which they are seeking to establish does not,
as yet, appeal to the effective will of the community,
and cannot be stably inaugurated until it does do so.
Persuasion is a slow process, and may sometimes
be accelerated by violent methods; to this extent such
methods may be justified. But the ultimate goal of
any reformer who aims at liberty can only be reached
through persuasion. The attempt to thrust liberty
by force upon those who do not desire what we consider
liberty must always prove a failure; and Syndicalists,
like other reformers, must ultimately rely
upon persuasion for success.
But it would be a mistake to confuse aims with
methods: however little we may agree with the proposal
to force the millennium on a reluctant community
by starvation, we may yet agree that much of
what the Syndicalists desire to achieve is desirable.
Let us dismiss from our minds such criticisms of
parliamentary government as are bound up with the
present system of private property, and consider
only those which would remain true in a collectivist
community. Certain defects seem inherent in the
very nature of representative institutions. There is
a sense of self-importance, inseparable from success
in a contest for popular favor. There is an all-but
unavoidable habit of hypocrisy, since experience
shows that the democracy does not detect insincerity
in an orator, and will, on the other hand, be shocked
by things which even the most sincere men may think
necessary. Hence arises a tone of cynicism among
elected representatives, and a feeling that no man
can retain his position in politics without deceit.
This is as much the fault of the democracy as of the
representatives, but it seems unavoidable so long as
the main thing that all bodies of men demand of their
champions is flattery. However the blame may be
apportioned, the evil must be recognized as one which
is bound to occur in the existing forms of democracy.
Another evil, which is especially noticeable in large
States, is the remoteness of the seat of government
from many of the constituencies--a remoteness which
is psychological even more than geographical. The
legislators live in comfort, protected by thick walls
and innumerable policemen from the voice of the
mob; as time goes on they remember only dimly the
passions and promises of their electoral campaign;
they come to feel it an essential part of statesmanship
to consider what are called the interests of the community
as a whole, rather than those of some discontented
group; but the interests of the community as
a whole are sufficiently vague to be easily seen to
coincide with self-interest. All these causes lead
Parliaments to betray the people, consciously or
unconsciously; and it is no wonder if they have produced
a certain aloofness from democratic theory in the
more vigorous champions of labor.
Majority rule, as it exists in large States, is
subject to the fatal defect that, in a very great number
of questions, only a fraction of the nation have
any direct interest or knowledge, yet the others have
an equal voice in their settlement. When people have
no direct interest in a question they are very apt
to be influenced by irrelevant considerations; this is
shown in the extraordinary reluctance to grant autonomy
to subordinate nations or groups. For this
reason, it is very dangerous to allow the nation as a
whole to decide on matters which concern only a small
section, whether that section be geographical or
industrial or defined in any other way. The best
cure for this evil, so far as can be seen at present,
lies in allowing self-government to every important
group within a nation in all matters that affect that
group much more than they affect the rest of the
community. The government of a group, chosen by
the group, will be far more in touch with its constituents,
far more conscious of their interests, than a
remote Parliament nominally representing the whole
country. The most original idea in Syndicalism--
adopted and developed by the Guild Socialists--is the
idea of making industries self-governing units so far
as their internal affairs are concerned. By this
method, extended also to such other groups as have
clearly separable interests, the evils which have shown
themselves in representative democracy can, I believe,
be largely overcome.
Guild Socialists, as we have seen, have another
suggestion, growing naturally out of the autonomy
of industrial guilds, by which they hope to limit the
power of the State and help to preserve individual
liberty. They propose that, in addition to Parliament,
elected (as at present) on a territorial basis
and representing the community as consumers, there
shall also be a ``Guild Congress,'' a glorified successor
of the present Trade Union Congress, which
shall consist of representatives chosen by the Guilds,
and shall represent the community as producers.
This method of diminishing the excessive power
of the State has been attractively set forth by Mr.
G. D. H. Cole in his ``Self-Government in Industry.''[54]
``Where now,'' he says, ``the State passes a Factory
Act, or a Coal Mines Regulation Act, the Guild Congress
of the future will pass such Acts, and its power
of enforcing them will be the same as that of the
State'' (p. 98). His ultimate ground for advocating
this system is that, in his opinion, it will tend to preserve
individual liberty: ``The fundamental reason
for the preservation, in a democratic Society, of both
the industrial and the political forms of Social organization
is, it seems to me, that only by dividing the
vast power now wielded by industrial capitalism can
the individual hope to be free'' (p. 91).
[54] Bell, 1917.
Will the system suggested by Mr. Cole have this
result? I think it is clear that it would, in this
respect, be an improvement on the existing system.
Representative government cannot but be improved
by any method which brings the representatives into
closer touch with the interests concerned in their
legislation; and this advantage probably would be
secured by handing over questions of production to
the Guild Congress. But if, in spite of the safeguards
proposed by the Guild Socialists, the Guild Congress
became all-powerful in such questions, if resistance
to its will by a Guild which felt ill-used became practically
hopeless, I fear that the evils now connected
with the omnipotence of the State would soon reappear.
Trade Union officials, as soon as they become
part of the governing forces in the country, tend to
become autocratic and conservative; they lose touch
with their constituents and gravitate, by a psychological
sympathy, into co-operation with the powers
that be. Their formal installation in authority
through the Guilds Congress would accelerate this
process. They would soon tend to combine, in effect
if not obviously, with those who wield authority in
Parliament. Apart from occasional conflicts, comparable
to the rivalry of opposing financiers which
now sometimes disturbs the harmony of the capitalist
world, there would, at most times, be agreement
between the dominant personalities in the two
Houses. And such harmony would filch away from
the individual the liberty which he had hoped to
secure by the quarrels of his masters.
There is no method, if we are not mistaken, by
which a body representing the whole community,
whether as producers or consumers or both, can
alone be a sufficient guardian of individual liberty.
The only way of preserving sufficient liberty (and
even this will be inadequate in the case of very small
minorities) is the organization of citizens with special
interests into groups, determined to preserve autonomy
as regards their internal affairs, willing to
resist interference by a strike if necessary, and
sufficiently powerful (either in themselves or through
their power of appealing to public sympathy) to be
able to resist the organized forces of government
successfully when their cause is such as many men
think just. If this method is to be successful we
must have not only suitable organizations but also
a diffused respect for liberty, and an absence of
submissiveness to government both in theory and practice.
Some risk of disorder there must be in such a
society, but this risk is as nothing compared to the
danger of stagnation which is inseparable from an
all-powerful central authority.
We may now sum up our discussion of the powers
of Government.
The State, in spite of what Anarchists urge, seems
a necessary institution for certain purposes. Peace
and war, tariffs, regulation of sanitary conditions
and of the sale of noxious drugs, the preservation of
a just system of distribution: these, among others,
are functions which could hardly be performed in
a community in which there was no central government.
Take, for example, the liquor traffic, or
the opium traffic in China. If alcohol could be
obtained at cost price without taxation, still more
if it could be obtained for nothing, as Anarchists
presumably desire, can we believe that there would not
be a great and disastrous increase of drunkenness?
China was brought to the verge of ruin by opium,
and every patriotic Chinaman desired to see the traffic
in opium restricted. In such matters freedom is
not a panacea, and some degree of legal restriction
seems imperative for the national health.
But granting that the State, in some form, must
continue, we must also grant, I think, that its powers
ought to be very strictly limited to what is absolutely
necessary. There is no way of limiting its
powers except by means of groups which are jealous
of their privileges and determined to preserve their
autonomy, even if this should involve resistance to
laws decreed by the State, when these laws interfere in
the internal affairs of a group in ways not warranted
by the public interest. The glorification of the State,
and the doctrine that it is every citizen's duty to serve
the State, are radically against progress and against
liberty. The State, though at present a source of
much evil, is also a means to certain good things,
and will be needed so long as violent and destructive
impulses remain common. But it is MERELY a means,
and a means which needs to be very carefully and
sparingly used if it is not to do more harm than good.
It is not the State, but the community, the worldwide
community of all human beings present and
future, that we ought to serve. And a good community
does not spring from the glory of the State,
but from the unfettered development of individuals:
from happiness in daily life, from congenial work
giving opportunity for whatever constructiveness
each man or woman may possess, from free personal
relations embodying love and taking away the roots
of envy in thwarted capacity from affection, and
above all from the joy of life and its expression in
the spontaneous creations of art and science. It is
these things that make an age or a nation worthy
of existence, and these things are not to be secured
by bowing down before the State. It is the individual
in whom all that is good must be realized, and the
free growth of the individual must be the supreme end
of a political system which is to re-fashion the world.