natural interest in the small man, his economic weaknesses and burdens;
every member of society must have equal right and opportunity to work
out his career. It does not contradict this that the Democrats believed
in slavery. In the Southern states the negro had come in the course of
generations to be looked on as property, as a possession to be held and
utilized in a special way, and any feeling of personal responsibility
was of a patriarchal and not a political nature. The peculiarly
democratic element in the position taken was the demand that the slavery
question be left with the separate states to decide. As soon as fellow
citizens were concerned, the anti-centralist party held true to its
principles of looking out for the members on the periphery of society.
In this way the party favoured the progressive income tax, and has
always espoused any cause which would assist the working-man against the
superior force of protected capital, or the farmer against the
machinations of the stock market. The exaggerated notions as to the
silver standard of currency originated outside of the Democratic party,
and have intrinsically nothing to do with democracy. But as soon as a
considerable part of the people from one cause or another began really
to believe that nothing but a silver currency could relieve the
condition of the artisans and farmers, it became logically necessary for
the party which opposed centralization to adopt and foster this panacea,
however senseless it might seem to the more thoughtful elements within
the party. And it was no less necessary for the party which upholds
federal authority to oppose unconditionally anything which would
endanger the coinage and credit of the country. The gold standard is
specifically a Republican doctrine only when it is understood to
repudiate and oppose all risky experimenting with bimetallism.
In the new imperialistic movement, on the other hand, it was the
Democrats who were put on the defensive. Any one who leans toward
individualism must instinctively lean away from militarism, which makes
for strength at the centre; from aggressive movements to annex new
lands, whereby the owners are deprived of their natural rights to manage
their own affairs, and from any meddling with international politics,
for this involves necessarily increased discretionary powers for the
central government. It is not that the Democrats care less for the
greatness of their fatherland, but they despise that jingo patriotism
which abandons the traditions of the country by bringing foreign peoples
into subjection. It is left for the centralists to meet the new
situation squarely, undertake new responsibilities, and convince the
nation that it is strong and mature enough now to play a decisive rôle
in the politics of the world. And thus the two great parties are by no
manner of means two rudderless derelicts carried hither and thither by
the currents ever since the Civil War, but, rather, great three-deckers
following without swerve their appointed courses.
The parties have sometimes been distinguished as conservative and
liberal, but this is rather a reminiscence of conditions in Europe. Both
of the parties are really conservative, as results from both the
American character and the nature of the party organization. Even in the
most radical Democratic gathering the great appeal is never made in
behalf of some advantageous or brilliant innovation but on the grounds
of adherence to the old, reliable, and well-nigh sacred party
principles. If either party is at present departing from the traditions
of the past, it is the Republican party, which has always figured as the
more conservative of the two. Yet such a distinction is partly true,
since the centralists in conformity to their principles must specially
maintain the Federal authority and precedent, while the Democratic party
is more naturally inclined to give ear to discontented spirits, clever
innovators, and fantastic reformers, lest some decentralizing energy
should be suppressed. So the Republican party gains a fundamental and
cheerful complacence with the prevailing order of things, while the
Democratic party, even when it is in power, can never come quite to
rest. The contrast is not that between rich and poor; the Democratic
party has its quota of millionaires, and the Republican has, for
instance, in its negro clientage many of the poorest in the land. But
the Republican party is filled with self-satisfaction and the
consciousness of power and success, while the Democrats are forever
measuring the actual according to an ideal which can never be realized.
Like all centralists, the Republicans are essentially opportunists and
matter-of-fact politicians; and the Democrats, like all
anti-centralists, are idealists and enthusiasts. It has been well said
that a Democratic committee is conducted like a debating club, but a
Republican like a meeting of the stockholders in a corporation.
These facts clearly hint at a certain personal factor which influences
the citizen’s allegiance to one or other of the parties. In meeting a
man on a journey one has very soon the impression, though one may often
be mistaken, as to what party he belongs to, although he may not have
spoken a word about politics. But more distinctive than the personal
bias are the groupings by classes and regions which have come about
during the course of time. In the North and West the Republicans have
the majority among the educated classes, but in the South the educated
people are Democrats, particularly since the negro population there
holds to the old abolition party, so that the whites are the more ready
to be on the other side. The lower classes are moved by the most diverse
motives; the farmer is inclined to be Republican and the artisan of the
cities Democratic; Protestants are more often Republicans and Catholics
Democrats, a partition which began with the early identification of the
Puritan clergy of New England with the Republican party. This resulted
in an affiliation of Catholicism and Democracy which has had very
important consequences, particularly in municipal politics; the Irish,
who are invariably Catholics, vote with the Democratic party. The
Germans and Swedes, specially in the West, are mostly Republicans. In
these ways the most complicated combinations have come about,
particularly in the Middle West, where many of the larger states are
always uncertain at election time. In the elections of the State of New
York, the Democrats and Republicans have been alternately successful.
Very often the capital city votes differently from the rural districts,
as in Massachusetts, which is a stalwart Republican state, although
Boston, owing to the Irish population, is Democratic.
* * * * *
These considerations as to the groupings of the party adherents bring us
directly to our second question—who are the party politicians? We have
aimed to refute the assertion that the parties are without their
principles, but there is the further assertion that the politicians are
without principles. In asking whether politics are really in the hands
of unscrupulous men, one should first ascertain whether there are any
honourable motives which would lead a man to devote himself thereto. And
it appears that nowhere else are there such powerful inducements for a
conscientious man to go into politics. First of all there is the best
possible motive, the wish to see one’s country governed according to
one’s own ideas of justice and progress, and the desire to work in this
way for the honour, security, and welfare of the nation. Any one who has
witnessed the American presidential elections once or twice will be
convinced that the overwhelming majority of voters casts its votes in a
truly ethical spirit, although, of course, the moral feeling is now
more, now less, profound. At times when technical matters are chiefly
the order of the day, or at best matters of expediency, enthusiasm for a
party victory has to be kept up in other ways; but when it comes to
questions of the national solidarity and honour, or of justice and
freedom, then really high ethical enthusiasm holds place before all
other political motives. In fact, the keen party spirit of the American
is rather in danger of making him feel a virtuous indignation against
the opposing party, even in regard to purely technical issues, as if it
had fallen into mere frivolity or been criminally irresponsible. And in
this way the American is never at a loss for a moral stream of some sort
to keep the political mill-wheel turning.
After patriotic enthusiasm come the economic and social motives which
even the most high-flown idealist would not designate as corrupt. It is
not only just, but it is actually the ideal of politics that every
portion of the population, every class and calling, as well as every
geographical section, should see its peculiar interests brought up for
political debate. It is possible for an equilibrium of all existing
forces to be reached only when all elements alike are aware of their
chance to assert themselves. Nothing could be gained if agriculture were
to become political sponsor for the industrial interests, or if industry
were to assume the care and protection of agriculture. A due and proper
emphasis by the respective interests of their own needs will always be
an honourable and, for the public welfare, useful incentive to political
efficiency. It is not to be doubted that in this way American politics
have always induced millions of citizens to the liveliest participation.
As we have seen, free-trade and protective tariff grew out of the chief
demands of the two parties; but this does not prevent the same party
opposition from standing in a way for the diverse and partly
contradictory interests of Northern industry and Southern plantation
life. Hence the parties are immediately interested in trade and
commerce. In a similar way the interests of the West have been bound up
in bimetallism schemes, while the commercial integrity of the East
depends on a gold currency. Legislation affecting trusts and banks and
the policy of expansion touch some of the deepest economic problems, and
summon all those concerned to come forward and play their part. The same
holds true of social interests. The negro, struggling against
legislation aimed directly at himself, seeks social protection through
the Republican party, while the Irish, Swedes, and Russians also look
for political recognition to advance their social interests.
Now these moral, social, and economic motives interest the citizen of
every land in politics; but there are other considerations here in
play, which, although no less honourable, figure less importantly in
Germany for example. First of all stands loyalty to the traditions of
one’s party. The son joins the party of his father, and is true to it
for life. In this way many are held in the party net who otherwise
might not agree to its general tenets. In a country where there are
many parties with only slight shades of difference, where, say, the
national-liberals are only a step removed from the independents or the
independent-conservatives, each new election period offers the voter a
free choice between parties. But where there are only two camps a
party loyalty is developed which leaves very much less to personal
inclination, and makes possible a firm party discipline. Then the
citizen may come to say of his party as of his fatherland, “It may be
right or wrong, it is still my party.” A man like Hoar may use all the
force of his rhetoric to condemn imperialism and to stigmatize it as a
crime, and he may leave no stone unturned to bring his own Republican
party to abandon the imperialistic policy, and yet, if his
recommendations are officially outvoiced, he will not falter in
supporting the regular candidates of his party, imperialists though
they be, as against the anti-imperialist Democratic candidates. The
typical American will rather wait for his own party to take up and
correct the evils which he most deplores than go over to the other
party which may be already working for the same reforms.
To be sure, there are Americans who account this point of view narrow or
even culpable, and who reserve the right of judging the programmes of
both parties afresh each time and of casting their lot on the side which
they find to be right. The example of Carl Schurz will be readily
recalled, who in 1896 delivered notable speeches in favour of McKinley
against Bryan, but came out in 1900 for Bryan as against McKinley. He
was a Republican on the first occasion, because at that time the
question of currency was in the foreground, and he thought it paramount
to preserve the gold standard, while in the next election he went over
to the Democrats because the question of expansion had come to the fore,
and he preferred the short-sighted silver policy to the unrighteous
programme of war and subjugation. The number of such independent
politicians is not small, and among them are many of the finest
characters in the land. Behind them comes the considerable class of
voters who may be won over to either party by momentary considerations
of business prosperity, by any popular agitation for the sake of being
with the crowd, by personal sympathies or antipathies, or merely through
discontent with the prevailing régime. If there were not an appreciable
part of the people to oscillate in this way between the parties, the
elections would fall out the same way from year to year, the result
could always be told beforehand, and neither party would have any
incentive to active effort; in short, political life would stagnate.
Thus the citizens who owe no party allegiance but take sides according
to the merits of the case are very efficient practically: in a way they
represent the conscience of the country, and yet three-fourths of the
population would look on their political creed with suspicion, or,
indeed, contempt. They would insist that the American system needs great
parties, and that parties cannot be practically effective if there is no
discipline in their organization—that is, if the minority of their
membership is not ready to submit cheerfully to the will of the
majority. If any man wishes to make reforms, he should first set about
to reform his party. Whereas, if on every difference of opinion he goes
over to the enemy’s camp, he simply destroys all respect for the weight
of a majority, and therewith undermines all democracy. It is as if a
party, which found itself defeated at the polls, should start a
revolution; whereas it is the pride of the American people to accept
without protest the government which the majority has chosen. And so
party allegiance is taken as the mark of political maturity, and the men
who hold themselves superior to their parties are influential at the
polls, but in the party camps they see their arguments held in light
esteem. They are mistrusted by the popular mind.
In addition to all this the American happens to be a born politician. On
the one hand the mere technique of politics fascinates him; every boy is
acquainted with parliamentary forms, and to frame amendments or file
demurrers appeals vastly to his fancy. It is an hereditary trait. On the
other hand, he finds in the party the most diversified social
environment which he may hope to meet. Aside from his church, the farmer
or artisan finds his sole social inspiration in his party, where the
political assemblies and contact with men of like opinions with himself
make him feel vividly that he is a free and equal participant in the
mighty game. Moreover, local interests cannot be separated from those of
the state, nor these from the affairs of the whole country; for the
party lines are drawn even in the smallest community, and dominate
public discussions whether great or small, so that even those who feel
no interest in national questions but are concerned only with local
reforms, perhaps the school system or the police board, find themselves,
nevertheless, drawn into the machinery of the great national parties.
Yet another motive induces the American to enter politics, a motive
which is neither good nor bad. Party politics have for many an aspect of
sport, as can be easily understood from the Anglo-Saxon delight in
competition and the nearly equal strength of the two parties. All the
marks of sport can be seen in the daily calculations and the ridiculous
wagers which are made, and in the prevalent desire to be on the side of
the winner. Not otherwise can the parades, torch-light processions, and
other demonstrations be explained, which are supposed to inspire the
indifferent or wavering with the conviction that this party and not the
other will come out victorious.
The American, it is seen, has ample inducements to engage in the
activities of party, from the noblest patriotic enthusiasm down to the
mere excitement over a sport. And it is doubtless these various motives
which sustain the parties in their activity and supply such an
inexhaustible sum of energy to the nation’s politics. By them the masses
are kept busily turning the political wheels and so provided with a
political schooling such as they get in no other country.
But we have seen that to enlist in the service of a political party
means more than to discuss and vote conscientiously, to work on
committees, or to contribute to the party treasury. Every detail of
elections, local or national, in every part of the country, has to be
planned and worked out by the party organization; and particularly in
the matter of nomination of candidates by the members of the party, the
work of arranging and agitating one scheme or another has become a
veritable science, demanding far more than merely amateur ability. It
must not be forgotten that in questions of a majority the American
complacent good humour is put aside. The party caucuses are managed on
such business-like methods that even in the most stormy debates the
minutest points of expediency are kept well in mind. If the several
interests are not represented with all that expertness with which an
attorney at court would plead the cause of a client, their case is as
good as lost. The managers have to study and know the least details, be
acquainted with personal and local conditions, with the attitude of the
press, of the officials, and of the other party leaders. Those members
of the organization who conduct the large federal sections and so deal
with more than local affairs, have to be at once lawyers, financiers,
generals, and diplomats. Shrewd combinations have to be devised in which
city, state, and national questions are nicely interwoven and matters of
personal tact and abstract right made to play into each other; and these
arrangements must be carried out with an energy and discretion that will
require the undivided attention of any man who hopes to succeed at the
business. Thus the American conditions demand in the way of organization
and agitation such an outlay of strength as could not be expected of the
citizens of any country, except in times of war, unless in addition to
patriotic motives some more concrete inducements should be offered. And
thus there are certain advantages and rewards accruing to the men who
devote themselves to this indispensable work.
The first of these inducements is, presumably, honour. The personal
distinctions which may be gotten in politics cannot easily be estimated
after German standards. There are both credits and debits which the
German does not suspect. To the former belongs the important fact that
all offices up to the very highest can be reached only by the way of
party politics. The positions of president, ambassadors, governors,
senators, ministers, and so forth are all provided with salaries, but
such inadequate ones as compared with the scale of living which is
expected of the incumbents that no one would even accept any of these
positions for the sake of the remuneration. In most cases an actual
financial sacrifice has to be made, since the holding of office is not
an assured career, but rather a brief interruption of one’s private
business. It is to be remembered, moreover, that a civil office carries
no pension. And thus it frequently happens that a man ends his political
career because he has spent all of his money, or because he feels it a
duty to secure his financial position. Reed, who was in a way the most
important Republican leader, gave up his position as speaker of the
House of Representatives and broke off all political entanglements in
order to become partner in a law firm. In the same way Harrison, on
retiring from the presidency, resumed his practice of law, and Day
resigned the secretaryship of state because his financial resources were
not adequate. An ambassador hardly expects his salary to be more than a
fraction of his expenditures. Now this circumstance need excite no pity,
since there is an abundance of rich men in America, and the Senate has
been nicknamed the Millionaire’s Club; but it should serve to show that
honour, prestige, and influence are the real incentives to a political
career, and not the “almighty dollar,” as certain detractors would have
one believe. There are persons, to be sure, who have gotten money in
politics, but they are few and insignificant beside those who have been
in politics because they had money. The political career in America thus
offers greater social rewards than in Germany, where the holding of
office is divorced from politics, where the government is an hereditary
monarchy and strongly influenced by an hereditary aristocracy, and where
even the merest mayor or city councilman must have his appointment
confirmed by the government.
Since the social premiums of the political life are so many and so
important it may seem astonishing that this career does not attract all
the best strength of the nation, and even embarrass the parties with an
overplus of great men. The reasons why it does not are as follows:
Firstly, distinctions due merely to office or position have not in a
democratic country the same exclusive value which they have with an
aristocratic nation. The feeling of social equality is much stronger,
and all consideration and regard are paid to a man’s personal qualities
rather than to his station. A land which knows no nobility, titles, or
orders is unschooled in these artificial distinctions, and while there
is some social differentiation it is incomparably less. One looks for
one’s neighbour to be a gentleman, and is not concerned to find out what
he does during office hours. The reputation and influence which are
earned in political life are much more potent than any honour deriving
from position. But here is found a second retarding factor: the
structure of American politics does not conduce to fame. In Germany the
party leaders are constantly in the public eye; they deliver important
speeches in the Reichstag or the Landtag, and their oratorical
achievements are read in every home. In America the debates of Congress
are very little read, and those of the state legislatures almost not at
all; the work of government is done in committees. The speeches of the
Senate are the most likely to become known, and yet no one becomes
famous in America through his parliamentary utterances, and public
sentiment is seldom influenced by oratorical performances at Washington.
In the third place, every American party officer must have served in the
ranks and worked his way up. It is not every man’s business to spend his
time with the disagreeable minutiæ of the local party organization; and
even if he does not dislike the work, he may well object to the society
with which he is thrown in these lower political strata. A fourth and
perhaps the principal item comes in here. In its lowest departments
politics can be made to yield a pecuniary return, and for this reason
attracts undesirable and perhaps unscrupulous elements whose mere
co-operation is enough to disgust better men and to give the purely
political career a lower status in public opinion than might be expected
in such a thoroughly political community.