But by what means will multiplication be restrained?
Malthus points out two general obstacles to indefinite
multiplication, which he has denominated the ‹preventive› and
‹repressive checks›.
As population can be kept down below the level of its physiological
tendency only by a diminution of the number of births, or an increase
of the number of deaths, the nomenclature of Malthus is undoubtedly
correct.
Moreover, when the conditions as regards space and nourishment
are such that population cannot go beyond a certain figure, it is
evident that the destructive check has more power, in proportion as
the preventive check has less. To allege that the number of births
may increase without an increase in the number of deaths, while the
means of subsistence are stationary, would be to fall into a manifest
contradiction.
Nor is it less evident, ‹à priori›, and independently of other
grave economic considerations, that in such a situation voluntary
self-restraint is preferable to forced repression.
As far as we have yet gone, then, the theory of Malthus is in all
respects incontestable.
He was wrong, perhaps, in adopting this period of twenty-five years
as the limit of human fecundity, although it holds good in the
United States. I am convinced that in assuming this period he wished
to avoid the imputation of exaggeration, or of dealing in pure
abstractions. “How can they pretend,” he may have thought, “that I
give too much latitude to ‹the possible› if I found my principle on
what ‹actually› takes place?” He did not consider that by mixing up
in this way the ‹virtual› and the ‹real›, and representing as the
measure of ‹the law of multiplication›, without reference to ‹the
law of limitation›, a period which is the result of ‹facts governed
by both laws›, he should expose himself to be misunderstood. This
is what has actually happened. His geometrical and arithmetical
progressions have been laughed at; he has been reproached for taking
the United States as a type of the rest of the world; in a word, the
confusion he has given rise to by mixing up these two distinct laws,
has been seized upon to confute the one by the other.
When we seek to discover the abstract power of propagation, we must
put aside for the moment all consideration of the physical and
moral checks arising from deficiency of space, food, or comfortable
circumstances. But the question once proposed in these terms, it is
quite superfluous to attempt an exact solution. This power, in the
human race, as in all organized existences, surpasses, [p407] in an
enormous proportion, all the phenomena of rapid multiplication that
we have observed in the past, or can ever observe in the future. Take
wheat, for example: allowing five stalks for every seed, and five
grains for every stalk, one grain has the virtual power of producing
four hundred millions of grains in five years. Or take the canine
race, and suppose four puppies to each litter, and six years of
fecundity, we shall find that one couple may in twelve years produce
eight millions of cubs.
As regards the human race, assuming sixteen as the age of puberty,
and fecundity to cease at thirty, each couple might give birth to
eight children. It is making a large deduction to reduce this number
to one-half on account of premature deaths, since we are reasoning
on the supposition of absolute comfort and all wants satisfied,
which greatly limits the amount of mortality. However, let us state
the premises in this way, and they give us in twenty-five years
2—4—8—16—32—64—128—256—512, etc.; in short, two millions in two
centuries.
If we make the calculation on the basis adopted by Euler, the period
of doubling will be twelve years and a half. Eight such periods will
make exactly a century, and the increase in that space of time will
be as 512:2.
At no era, and in no country, have we ever observed the numbers of
the human race increase with this frightful rapidity. According
to the book of Genesis, the Hebrews who entered Egypt amounted to
seventy couples;[87] and we find from the book of Numbers that when
Moses numbered the people, two centuries afterwards, they amounted
to six hundred thousand men above twenty-one years of age,[88] which
supposes a population of two millions at least. From this we may
infer that the period of doubling was fourteen years. Statistical
tables can scarcely be admitted to control biblical facts. Shall we
say that six hundred thousand men “able to go to war” supposes a
population larger than two millions, and infer from that a period of
doubling less than Euler has calculated? In that case, we should cast
doubt either on the census of Moses or on the calculations of Euler.
All that we contend for is, that it should not be pretended that
the Hebrews multiplied with greater rapidity than it is possible to
multiply.
After this example, which is probably that in which ‹actual›
fecundity approximates most nearly to ‹virtual› fecundity, we have
[p408] the case of the United States of America, where we know that
the population doubles in less than twenty-five years.
It is unnecessary to pursue such researches further. It is sufficient
to know that in our species, as in all, the organic power of
multiplication is superior to the actual multiplication. Moreover, it
would involve a contradiction to assert that the actual surpasses the
virtual.
Alongside of this absolute power, which it is unnecessary to
determine more exactly, and which we may safely regard as uniform,
there exists, as we have said, another force, which limits,
compresses, suspends, to a certain extent, the action of the first,
and opposes to it obstacles of different kinds, varying with times
and places, with the occupations, the manners, the laws, or the
religion of different nations.
I denominate this second force ‹the law of limitation›; and it is
evident that the progress of population in each country, and in each
class, is the result of the combined action of these two laws.
But in what does this law of limitation consist? We may say in a very
general way that the propagation of life is restrained or prevented
by the difficulty of sustaining life. This idea, which we have
already expressed in the terms of the formula of Malthus, it is of
importance to develop farther, for it is the essential part of our
subject.[89]
Organized existences, which are indued with life, but without
feeling, are entirely passive in this struggle between the two
principles. As regards vegetables, it is strictly true that the
number of each species is limited by the means of subsistence. The
profusion of germs is infinite, but the resources of space and
territorial fertility are not so. These germs injure or destroy one
another; they fail to grow, or they take root and come to maturity
only to the extent that the soil allows of. Animals are endued
with feeling, but they would seem in general to be destitute of
foresight. They breed, increase, and multiply without regard to the
fate of their offspring. Death, premature death, alone limits their
multiplication, and maintains the equilibrium between their numbers
and their means of subsistence.
M. de Lamennais, in his inimitable language, thus addresses the
people:—
“There is room enough in the world for all, and God has made it
fertile enough to supply the wants of all.” And, further on, he
says,—“The Author of the universe has not assigned a worse [p409]
condition to man than to the inferior animals. Are not all invited to
the rich banquet of nature? Is one alone excluded?” And, again, he
adds,—“Plants extend their roots from one field to another, in a soil
which nourishes them all, and all grow there in peace; none of them
absorbs the sap of another.”
In all this we see only fallacious declamation, which serves as the
basis of dangerous conclusions; and we cannot help regretting that an
eloquence so admirable should be devoted to giving popular currency
to the most fatal of errors.
It is not true that no plant robs another of its sap, and that all
extend their roots in the soil without injury. Hundreds of millions
of vegetable germs fall every year upon the ground, derive from it
a beginning of vitality, and then die stifled by plants stronger,
ranker, hardier than themselves. It is not true that all animals
which are born are invited to the banquet of nature, and that none
of them is excluded. Wild beasts devour one another; and of domestic
animals man destroys a countless number. Nothing, in fact, is better
calculated than this to show the existence and relations of these two
principles—that of multiplication and that of limitation. Why have we
in this country so many oxen and sheep, notwithstanding the havoc we
make? Why are there so few bears and wolves, although we slaughter
far fewer of them, and they are so organized as to be capable of
multiplying much faster? The reason is, that man prepares subsistence
for the one class of animals, and takes it away from the other class.
As regards each, he so arranges the law of limitation as to leave
more or less latitude to the law of increase.
Thus, as regards both vegetables and animals, the limiting force
appears only in one form, that of ‹destruction›. But man is indued
with reason and foresight, and this new element modifies, and even
changes, the mode of action of this force, so far as he is concerned.
Undoubtedly, in as far as he is a being provided with material
organs, or, to speak plainly, in as far as he is an animal, the
law of limitation, in the form of destruction, applies to him. It
is impossible that the numbers of men can exceed their means of
subsistence; for to assert that more men existed than had the means
of existing, would imply a contradiction. If, then, his reason and
foresight are lulled asleep, he becomes a vegetable, he becomes a
brute. In that case, he will inevitably multiply in virtue of the
great physiological law which governs all organized nature; and, in
that case, it is equally inevitable that he should perish in virtue
of that law of limitation the action of which he has ignored. [p410]
But if he exercise foresight, this second law comes within the sphere
of his will. He modifies and directs it. It is, in fact, no longer
the same law. It is no longer a blind, but an intelligent force; it
is no longer a mere natural, it has become a social law. Man is the
centre in which these two principles, matter and intelligence, meet,
unite, and are blended; he belongs exclusively neither to the one
nor to the other. As regards the human race, the ‹law of limitation›
is manifested in both its aspects, and maintains population at the
necessary level by the double action of foresight and destruction.
These two actions are not of uniform intensity. On the contrary,
the one is enlarged in proportion as the other is restrained. The
thing to be accomplished, the point to be reached is limitation;
and it is so more or less by means of ‹repression›, or by means of
‹prevention›, according as man is brutish or spiritual, according as
he is more allied to matter or to mind, according as he has in him
more of vegetative or of moral life. The law may be external to him,
or internal, but it must exist somewhere.
We do not form a just idea of the vast domain of foresight, which the
translator of Malthus has much circumscribed, by giving currency to
that vague and inadequate expression, ‹moral restraint› [‹contrainte
morale›], which he has still farther limited by the definition he has
given of it, namely, “The virtue which consists in not marrying, when
one has not the means of ‹maintaining› a family, and yet living in
chastity.” The obstacles which intelligent human society opposes to
possible multiplication take many other forms besides that of moral
restraint thus defined. What means, for example, the pure and holy
ignorance of early life, the only ignorance which it is criminal
to dissipate, which every one respects, and over which the timid
mother watches as over hidden treasure? What means the modesty which
succeeds that ignorance, that mysterious defence of the young female,
which intimidates whilst it enchants her lover, and prolongs, while
it embellishes, the innocent season of courtship? The veil which
is thus interposed at first between ignorance and truth, and then
between truth and happiness, is a marvellous thing, and in aught save
this would be absurd. What means that power of opinion which imposes
such severe laws on the relations of the sexes, stigmatizes the
slightest transgression of those laws, and visits it not only on the
erring feebleness which succumbs, but, from generation to generation,
on the unhappy offspring? What mean that sensitive honour, that rigid
reserve, so generally admired even by those who have cast it off,
those institutions, those [p411] restraints of etiquette, those
precautions of all sorts—if they are not the action of that ‹law of
limitation› manifested in an intelligent, moral, and ‹preventive›
shape—in a shape, consequently, which is peculiar to man?
Let these barriers be once overturned—let mankind, in what regards
the sexes, be no longer concerned either with etiquette or with
fortune, or with the future, or with opinion, or with manners—let men
lower themselves to the rank of vegetables or animals,—can we doubt
that for the former, as for the latter, the power of multiplication
would act with a force to necessitate the instant intervention of
the ‹law of limitation›, manifested under such circumstances in a
physical, brutal, and ‹repressive› shape; that is to say, by the
action of indigence, disease, and death?
It is impossible to deny that, but for foresight and moral
considerations, marriage would, in most cases, be contracted at
an early age, or immediately after puberty. If we fix this age at
sixteen, and if the registers of a given country show that marriages
on an average, do not take place before four-and-twenty, we have then
eight years deducted by ‹the law of limitation›, in its moral and
preventive form, from the action of the law of multiplication; and
if we add to this figure the necessary allowance for those who never
marry, we shall be convinced that the Creator has not degraded man to
the level of the beasts that perish, but, on the contrary, has given
him the power to transform the ‹repressive› into the ‹preventive›
limitation.
It is singular enough that the spiritualist school and the
materialist school should have, as it were, changed sides on this
great question: the former fulminating against foresight, and
endeavouring to set up the principle of animal nature; the latter
exalting the moral part of man, and enforcing the dominion of reason
over passion and appetite.
The truth is, the subject is not rightly understood. Let a father
consult the most orthodox clergyman he can find as to the management
of his family, the counsels he will receive are just those which
science has exalted into ‹principles›, and which, as such, the
clergyman might probably repudiate. “Keep your daughter in strict
seclusion,” the old minister will say; “conceal from her as much
as you can the seductions of the world; cultivate, as you would a
precious flower, that holy ignorance, that heavenly modesty, which
are at once her charm and her defence. Wait until an eligible match
presents itself; and labour in the meantime to secure her an adequate
fortune. Consider that a poor and improvident marriage brings along
with it much suffering and many dangers. Recall [p412] those old
proverbs which embody the wisdom of nations, and which assure us that
comfortable circumstances constitute the surest guarantee of union
and domestic peace. Why be in a hurry? Would you have your daughter
at five-and-twenty burdened with a family which she cannot maintain
and educate suitably to your rank in life? Would you have her
husband, feeling the inadequacy of his income to support his family,
fall into affliction and despair, and finally, perhaps, betake
himself to riot and debauchery? The subject which now occupies you is
the most important which can come under your consideration. Weigh it
well and maturely; and avoid precipitation,” etc.
Suppose that the father, borrowing the language of M. de Lamennais,
should reply: “In the beginning God addressed to all men the command
to increase and multiply, and replenish the earth and subdue it. And
yet you would persuade a young woman to live single, renounce family
ties, and give up and abandon the chaste happiness of married life,
and the holy joys of maternity; and all this for no better reason
than a sordid fear of poverty.” Think you the old clergyman would
have no reply to this?
God, he might say, has not commanded man to increase and multiply
without discretion and without prudence; to act with as little regard
to the future as the inferior animals. He has not indued man with
reason, in order that he may cease to use it in the most solemn and
important circumstances. He has commanded man, no doubt, to increase,
but in order to increase he must live, and in order to live he must
have the means of living. In the command to increase, therefore,
there is implied another command, namely, to prepare for his
offspring the means of subsistence. Religion has not placed celibacy
in the catalogue of crimes. So far from that, she has ranked it as
a virtue, which she honours and sanctifies. We must not think that
we violate the commandment of God when we are preparing to fulfil it
with prudence, and with a view to the future good, happiness, and
dignity of our family.
Now this reasoning, or reasoning of a similar kind, which we hear
repeated every day, and which regulates the conduct of every moral
and enlightened family, what is it but the application of a general
doctrine to particular cases? Or rather, what is that doctrine, but
the generalization of reasoning which applies to every particular
case? The spiritualist who repudiates, on principle, the intervention
of preventive limitation, is like the natural philosopher who should
say to us, “Act in every case as if gravity existed, but don’t admit
gravitation in theory.” [p413]
In our observations hitherto we have followed the theory of Malthus;
but there is one attribute of humanity to which it seems to me
that most of our authors have not assigned that importance which
it merits, and which plays an important part in the phenomena
relative to population, resolves many of the problems to which this
great question has given rise, and gives birth in the mind of the
philanthropist to a confidence and serenity which false science
had banished; this attribute, which is comprised, indeed, in the
notions of reason and foresight, is man’s ‹perfectibility›. Man is
perfectible; he is susceptible of amelioration and of deterioration;
and if, in a strict sense, he can remain stationary, he can also
mount and descend without limit the endless ladder of civilisation.
This holds true not only of individuals, but of families, nations,
and races.
It is from not having taken into account all the power of this
progressive principle, that Malthus has landed us in those
discouraging consequences which have rendered his theory generally
repulsive.
For, regarding the ‹preventive check›, in a somewhat ascetic and not
very attractive light, he could hardly attribute much force to it.
Hence he concludes that it is the ‹repressive› check which generally
operates; in other words, vice, poverty, war, crime, etc.
This, as I think, is an error; and we are about to see that the
‹limitative› force presents itself not only in the shape of an effort
of chastity, an act of self-control, but also, and above all, as a
condition of happiness, an instructive movement which prevents men
from degrading themselves and their families.
Population, it has been said, tends to keep on a level with the means
of subsistence. I should say that, for this expression ‹means of
subsistence›, formerly in universal use, J. B. Say has substituted
another which is much more correct, namely, ‹means of existence›.
At first sight it would seem that subsistence alone enters into the
question, but it is not so. ‹Man does not live by bread alone›, and a
reference to facts shows us clearly that population is arrested, or
retarded, when the aggregate of all the means of existence, including
clothing, lodging, and other things which climate or even habit
renders necessary, come to be awanting.
We should say, then, that population tends to keep on a level with
the ‹means of existence›.
But do these means constitute something which is fixed, absolute,
and uniform? Certainly not. In proportion as civilisation advances,
the range of man’s wants is enlarged, having regard even to simple
‹subsistence›. Regarded as a perfectible being the ‹means of [p414]
existence›, among which we comprehend the satisfaction of moral and
intellectual, as well as physical wants, admit of as many degrees
as there are degrees in civilisation itself, in other words, of
infinite degrees. Undoubtedly, there is an inferior limit—to appease
hunger, to shelter oneself from cold to some extent, is one condition
of life, and this limit we may perceive among American savages or
European paupers. But a superior limit I know not—in fact, there is
none. Natural wants satisfied, others spring up, which are factitious
at first, if you will, but which habit renders natural in their turn,
and, after these, others still, and so on without assignable limit.
At each step, then, which man takes on the road of civilisation,
his wants embrace a wider and more extended circle, and the ‹means
of existence›, the point where the laws of ‹multiplication› and
‹limitation› meet, is removed and elevated. For although man is
susceptible of deterioration as well as of improvement, he aspires
after the one and shuns the other. His efforts all tend to maintain
the rank he has gained, and to rise still higher; and ‹habit›, which
has been so well called a second nature, performs the part of the
valves of our arterial system, by checking every retrograde tendency.
It is very natural, then, that the intelligent and moral control
which man exercises over his own multiplication should partake of the
nature of these efforts to rise, and be combined and mixed up with
his progressive tendencies.
The consequences which result from this organization are numerous.
We shall confine ourselves to pointing out a few of them. First of
all, we admit with the Economists that population and the means of
existence come to an equilibrium; but the last of these terms being
infinitely flexible, and varying with civilisation and habits, we
cannot admit that in comparing nations and classes, population
is proportionate to ‹production›, as J. B. Say[90] affirms, or
to ‹income›, as is represented by M. de Sismondi. And then every
advancing step of culture implies greater foresight, and the moral
and preventive check comes to neutralize the repressive one more and
more as civilisation is realized in society at large, or in one or
other of its sections. Hence it follows that each step of progress
tends to a new step in the same direction, ‹vires acquirit eundo›;
seeing that better circumstances and greater foresight engender one
another in indefinite succession. For the same reason, when men, from
whatever cause, follow a retrograde course, narrower circumstances
and want of foresight become reciprocally cause and effect, [p415]
and retrogression and decay would have no limit had society not
been indued with that curative force, that ‹vis medicatrix›, which
Providence has vouchsafed to all organized bodies. Observe, too,
that at each step of this retrograde movement, the action of the law
of limitation in its destructive form becomes at once more painful
and more apparent. At first, it is only deterioration and sinking
in the social scale; then it is poverty, famine, disorder, war,
death;—painful but infallible teachers.
I should like to pause here to show how well this theory explains
facts, and how well facts in their turn justify the theory. When,
in the case of a nation or a class, the means of existence have
descended to that inferior limit at which they come to be confounded
with the means of pure subsistence, as in China, in Ireland, and
among the lowest and poorest class of every country, the smallest
oscillations of population, or of the supply of food, are tantamount
to death. In this respect facts confirm the scientific induction.
Famine has not for a long period visited Europe, and we attribute the
absence of this scourge to a multitude of causes. The most general
of these causes undoubtedly is, that the ‹means of existence›, by
reason of social progress, have risen far above the ‹means of mere
subsistence›. When years of scarcity come, we are thus enabled to
give up many enjoyments before encroaching on the first necessaries
of life. Not so in such countries as China or Ireland, where men
have nothing in the world but a little rice or a few potatoes. When
the rice or potato crops fail, they have absolutely no means of
purchasing other food.
A third consequence of human perfectibility we must notice here,
because it tends to modify the doctrine of Malthus in its most
afflicting phase. The formula which we have attributed to that
economist is, that “Population tends to keep on a level with the
means of subsistence.” We should say that he has gone much farther,
and that his true formula, that from which he has drawn his most
distressing conclusions, is this: “Population tends ‹to go beyond›
the means of subsistence.” Had Malthus by this simply meant to say
that in the human race the power of propagating life is superior to
the power of sustaining life, there could have been no controversy.
But this is not what he means. He affirms that, taking into account
absolute fecundity on the one hand, and, on the other, limitation,
as manifested in the two forms, repressive and preventive, the
result is still the tendency of population to go beyond the means of
subsistence.[91] This holds true of every species [p416] of living
creatures, except the human race. Man is an intelligent being, and
can make an unlimited use of the preventive check. He is perfectible,
seeks after improvement, and shuns deterioration. Progress is his
normal state, and progress presupposes a more and more enlightened
exercise of the preventive check; and then ‹the means of existence
increase more rapidly than population›. This effect not only flows
from the principle of perfectibility, but is confirmed by ‹fact›,
since on all sides the range of satisfactions is extended. Were it
true, as Malthus asserts, that along with every addition to the means
of subsistence there is a still greater addition to the population,
the misery of our race would be fatally—inevitably—progressive;
society would begin with civilisation and end with barbarism. The
contrary is the fact; and we must conclude that the law of limitation
has had sufficient force to restrain the multiplication of men, and
keep it below the multiplication of products.
It may be seen from what has been said how vast and how difficult the
question of population is. We may regret, no doubt, that a precise
formula has not been given to it, and we regret still more that we
find ourselves unable to propose one. But we may see how repugnant
the narrow limits of a dogmatic axiom are to such a subject. It is
a vain endeavour to try to express, in the form of an inflexible
equation, the relations of data so essentially variable. Allow me to
recapitulate these data.
(1.) ‹The law of increase or multiplication.›—The absolute, virtual,
physiological power which resides in the human race to propagate
life, apart from the consideration of the difficulty of sustaining
life. This first datum, the only one susceptible of anything like
precision, is the only one in which precision is superfluous; for
what matters it where the superior limit of multiplication is
placed in the hypothesis, if it can never be attained in the actual
condition of man, which is to sustain life with the sweat of his brow.
(2.) There is a ‹limit›, then, to the law of multiplication. What is
that limit? The means of existence, it is replied. But what are the
means of existence? The aggregate of satisfactions or enjoyments,
which cannot be exactly defined. They vary with times, places, races,
ranks, manners, opinions, habits, and consequently the limit we are
in search of is shifted or displaced.
(3.) Last of all, it may be asked, in what consists the force which
[p417] restrains population within this limit, which is itself
movable? As far as man is concerned, it is twofold: a force which
‹represses›, and a force which ‹prevents›. Now, the action of the
first, incapable as it is in itself of being accurately measured, is,
moreover, entirely subordinated to the action of the second, which
depends on the degree of civilisation, on the power and prevalence of
habits, on the tendency of political and religious institutions, on
the organization of property, of labour, of family relations, etc.
Between the law of multiplication and the law of limitation, then, it
is impossible to establish an equation from which could be deduced
the actual population. In algebra ‹a› and ‹b› represent determinate
quantities which are numbered and measured, and of which we can fix
the proportions; but ‹means of existence›, ‹moral government of the
will›, ‹inevitable action of mortality›, these are the three data of
the problem of population, data which are flexible in themselves,
and which partake somewhat, moreover, of the astonishing flexibility
of the subject to which they have reference—man—that being whom
Montaigne describes as so fluctuating and so variable. It is not
surprising, then, that in desiring to give to this equation a
precision of which it is incapable, economists have rather divided
men’s minds than brought them into unison, and this because there
is not one of the terms of their formulas which is not open to a
multitude of objections, both in reasoning and in fact.
We shall now proceed to say something on the practical application
of the doctrine of population, for application not only elucidates
doctrine, but is the true fruit of the tree of science.
Labour, as we have said, is the only subject of exchange. In
order to obtain utility (unless the utility which nature gives us
gratuitously), we must be at the pains to produce it, or remunerate
another who takes the pains for us. Man creates, and can create,
nothing; he arranges, disposes, or transports things for a useful
purpose; he cannot do this without exertion, and the result of this
exertion becomes his property. If he gives away his property, he
has right to recompense, in the shape of a service which is judged
equivalent after free discussion. Such is the principle of value,
of remuneration, of exchange—a principle which is not the less true
because it is simple. Into what we denominate ‹products›, there
enter divers degrees of ‹natural utility›, and divers degrees of
‹artificial utility›; the latter, which alone implies labour, is
alone the subject of human bargains and transactions; and without
questioning in the least the celebrated and suggestive formula of J.
B. Say, that “products are exchanged for products,” I esteem it more
[p418] rigorously scientific to say that ‹labour is exchanged for
labour›, or, better still, that ‹services are exchanged for services›.
It must not be inferred from this, however, that quantities of labour
are exchanged for each other in the ratio of their duration or of
their intensity; or that the man who transfers to another an hour’s
labour, or even the man who labours with the greatest intensity, who,
as it were, pushes the needle of the dynamometer up to 100 degrees,
can always stipulate for an equal effort in return. ‹Duration› and
‹intensity› are, no doubt, two of the elements taken into account in
the appreciation of labour; but they are not the only ones; for we
must consider, besides, that labour may be more or less repugnant,
dangerous, difficult, intelligent, that it may imply more or less
foresight, and may even be more or less successful. When transactions
are free, and property completely secured, each has entire control
over his own labour, and, consequently, need only dispose of it at
his own price. The limit to his compliance is the point at which it
is more advantageous to reserve his labour than to exchange it; the
limit to his exactions is the point at which the other party to the
bargain finds it his interest not to make the exchange.
There are in Society as many ‹strata›, if I may use the expression,
as there are degrees in the scale of remuneration. The worst
remunerated of all labour is that which approximates most nearly to
brute force. This is an arrangement of Providence which is just,
useful, and inevitable. The mere manual labourer soon reaches that
‹limit to his exactions› of which I have just spoken, for everybody
can perform this kind of muscular automatic labour; and the ‹limit
to his compliance› is also soon reached, for he is incapable of
the intelligent labour which his own wants require. ‹Duration› and
‹intensity›, which are attributes of matter, are the sole elements
of the remuneration of this species of unskilled material labour;
and that is the reason why it is usually paid ‹by the day›. All
industrial progress consists in this, namely, in replacing in
each product a certain amount of ‹artificial›, and, consequently,
‹onerous utility›, by the same amount of ‹natural›, and, therefore,
‹gratuitous utility›. Hence it follows that if there be one class
of society more interested than another in free competition, it
is the labouring class. What would be the fate of these men if
natural agents, and new processes and instruments of production,
were not brought continually, by means of competition, to confer
‹gratuitously›, on all, the results of their co-operation? The mere
day-labourer knows not how to make available in the production of the
commodities he has occasion for, heat, gravitation, or elasticity;
[p419] nor can he discover the processes, nor does he possess the
instruments, by which these forces are rendered useful. When such
discoveries are new, the labour of inventors, who are men of the
highest intelligence, is well remunerated; in other words, that
labour is the equivalent of a large amount of rude unskilled labour;
or, again, to change the expression, his product is ‹dear›. But
competition interposes, the product falls in price, the co-operation
of natural agents is no longer profitable to the producer, but to the
consumer, and the labour which has made them available approximates,
as regards remuneration, to that labour which is estimated by
mere duration. Thus, the common fund of gratuitous wealth goes on
constantly increasing. Products of every kind tend, day after day, to
become again invested,—and they are in reality invested,—with that
condition of ‹gratuitousness› which characterizes our supply of air,
and light, and water. The general level of humanity thus continues
to rise, and to equalize itself; and, apart from the operation of
the law of population, the lowest class of society is that whose
amelioration is virtually the most rapid. We have said, apart from
the operation of the law of population; and this brings us back to
the subject we are now examining.
Figure to yourself a basin into which an orifice which is constantly
enlarging admits a constantly increasing supply of water. If we look
only to this circumstance, we conclude that the level of the water in
the basin is continually rising. But if the sides of the basin are
flexible, and capable of contracting and expanding, it is evident
that the height of the water will depend on the manner in which this
new circumstance is combined with the other. The level of the water
will sink, however great may be the supply running into the basin,
if the capacity of the basin itself is enlarged still more rapidly.
It will rise, if the circle of the reservoir is enlarged only
proportionally and very slowly, higher still if it remain fixed, and
highest of all if it is narrowed or contracted.
This is a picture of the social class whose destinies we are now
considering, and which constitutes, it must be allowed, the great
mass of mankind. The water which comes into the basin through the
elastic orifice represents their remuneration, or the objects fitted
to supply their wants and to sustain life. The flexibility of the
sides of the basin represents the movement of population. It is
certain[92] that the means of existence overtake our population in
a constantly increasing progression, but then it is equally certain
that their numbers may increase in a still superior progression.
The life of this class, then, will be more or less happy, more or
less [p420] comfortable, according as the law of limitation, in its
moral, intelligent, and preventive form, shall circumscribe, to a
greater or less extent, the absolute law of multiplication. There is
a limit to the increase of the numbers of the working class. That
limit is the point at which the progressive fund of remuneration
becomes insufficient for their maintenance. But there is no limit
to their possible amelioration, because of the two elements which
constitute it, the one, wealth, is constantly increasing, and the
other, population, is under their own control.
What we have just said with reference to the lowest social grade,
the class of mere manual labourers, is applicable also to each of
the superior grades, when classified in relation to one another, in
an inverse proportion, so to speak, to the rudeness and materiality
of their occupations. Taking each class simply by itself, all are
subjected to the same general laws. In all there is a struggle
between the physiological power of multiplication, and the moral
power of limitation. The only respect in which one class differs from
another is with reference to the point where these two forces meet,
the height to which the limit between the two laws may be raised by
remuneration or be fixed by the habits of the labourers—this limit we
have denominated the ‹means of existence›.
But if we consider the various classes, no longer each by itself, but
in their reciprocal relations, I think we can discern the influence
of two principles acting in an inverse sense, and this without doubt
is the explanation of the actual condition of mankind. We have
shown how all the economic phenomena, and especially the law of
competition, tend to an equality of conditions. Theoretically this
appears to us incontestable. Seeing that no natural advantage, no
ingenious process, none of the instruments by which such processes
are made available, can remain permanently with producers, as
such; and seeing that the results of such natural advantages or
discoveries, by an irresistible law of Providence, tend to become
the common, gratuitous, and, consequently, equal, patrimony of all
men, it is evident that the poorest class is the one which derives
the greatest ‹relative› profit from this admirable arrangement of
the laws of the social economy. Just as the poor man is as liberally
treated as the rich man with reference to the air he breathes, in
the same way he becomes equal to the rich man, as regards all that
portion of the value of commodities which progress is constantly
annihilating. Essentially, then, the human race has a very marked
tendency towards ‹equality›. I do not speak of a tendency of
aspiration, but a tendency of realization. And yet equality is not
realized, or is realized so slowly, that in comparing two distant
[p421] epochs we are scarcely sensible of the progress. Indeed we
are so little sensible of it, that many able men deny it altogether,
although in this they are certainly mistaken. Now, what is the cause
which retards this fusion of classes on a common and progressive
level?
In searching for the cause we need not, I think, look farther than
the various degrees of ‹foresight› which each class exercises as
regards the increase of population. The law of limitation, as has
been already said, in as far as it is ‹moral› and ‹preventive›,
we have under our own control. Man, as we have also said, is
perfectible, and in proportion to his progress in improvement, he
pays a more intelligent regard to this law. The superior classes,
then, in proportion as they are more enlightened, are led to make
greater exertions, and submit to greater sacrifices, in order to
maintain their respective numbers on a level with the means of
existence which their position in society demands.
Were we sufficiently far advanced in statistics, we should probably
have this theoretical deduction converted into certainty, and have
it proved by fact that marriages are less hasty and precocious among
the higher than among the lower classes of society. If it be so, it
is easy to see that in the general market, to which all classes bring
their respective services, and in which labour of every kind is the
subject of exchange, unskilled labour will be supplied in greater
abundance than skilled labour; and this explains the continuance of
that inequality of conditions, which so many, and such powerful,
causes of another kind tend constantly to efface.
The theory which we have now briefly explained leads us to the
practical conclusion that the best forms of philanthropy, the best
social institutions, are those which, while acting in accordance with
the Providential plan, as revealed to us by the social harmonies—I
mean the plan of progressive equality—shall cause to descend among
all ranks of society, and especially the lowest ranks, knowledge,
discretion, morality, and foresight.
I say institutions, because, in fact, foresight results as much from
the necessities of position as from resolutions purely intellectual.
There are certain organizations of property, or, I should rather
say, of industry, which are more favourable than others to what
economists call a knowledge of the market, and, consequently, to
‹foresight›. It seems certain, for example, that ‹métayage› is much
more efficacious than ‹fermage›[93] (the latter necessitating [p422]
the employment of day labourers) in interposing a preventive obstacle
to the exuberance of population among the lower classes. A family
of ‹métayers› is in a much more likely situation than a family of
day-labourers to experience the inconveniences of hasty marriages and
improvident multiplication.
I have also used the expression, “forms of philanthropy.” In fact,
almsgiving may effect a local and present good, but its influence
must be limited even where it is not prejudicial to the happiness of
the labouring classes; for it does not develop, but, on the contrary,
may paralyze, that virtue which is most fitted to elevate the
condition of the labourer, namely, ‹foresight›. To disseminate sound
ideas, and, above all, to induce those habits which mark a certain
degree of self-respect, is the greatest and most permanent good which
we can confer upon the lower orders.
The ‹means of existence›, we cannot too often repeat, do not
constitute a fixed quantity; they depend upon the state of manners,
of opinion, and of habits. Whatever rank a man holds in the social
scale, he has as much repugnance to descend from the position to
which he has been accustomed as can be felt by men of an inferior
grade. Perhaps there is even greater suffering in the mind of the
aristocrat, the noble scions of whose house are lost among the
‹bourgeoisie›, than in that of the citizen whose sons become manual
labourers, or in that of manual labourers whose children are reduced
to pauperism. The ‹habit›, then, of enjoying a certain amount of
material prosperity and a certain rank in life, is the strongest
stimulant to the exercise of foresight; and if the working classes
shall once raise themselves to the possession of a higher amount
of enjoyment, and be unwilling again to descend in the social
scale, then, in order to maintain themselves in that position, and
preserve wages in keeping with their new habits, they must employ the
infallible means of preventive limitation.
It is for this reason that I regard as one of the finest
manifestations of philanthropy the resolution which appears to have
been taken in England by many of the proprietors and manufacturers,
to pull down cottages of mud and thatch, and substitute for them
brick houses, neat, spacious, well lighted, well aired, and
conveniently furnished. Were such a measure to become general,
it [p423] would elevate the tone of the working classes. It would
convert into real wants what are nowadays regarded as comparative
luxuries; it would raise that limit which we have denominated
the ‹means of existence›, and, by consequence, the ‹standard of
remuneration›, from its present low rate. And why not? The lower
orders in civilized countries are much above the lower orders among
savages. They have raised themselves so far; and why should they not
raise themselves still more?
We must not, however, deceive ourselves on this subject; progress
can be but very slow, since to some extent it must be ‹general›.
In certain parts of the world it might perhaps be realized rapidly
if the people exercised no influence over each other; but this is
not so. There is a great law of solidarity for the human race, in
progress as well as in deterioration. If in England, for example,
the condition of the working classes were sensibly improved, in
consequence of a general rise of wages, French industry would have
more chances of surpassing its rival, and by its advance would
moderate the progressive movement manifested on the other side of the
Channel. It would seem that, beyond certain limits, Providence has
not designed that one people should rise above another. And thus, in
the great aggregate of human society, as in its most minute details,
we always find that admirable and inflexible forces tend to confer,
in the long-run, on the masses, individual or collective advantages,
and to bring back all temporary manifestations of superiority to a
common level, which, like that of the ocean when the tide flows, is
always equalizing itself and always advancing.
To conclude, perfectibility, which is the distinctive characteristic
of man, being given, and the action of competition and the law of
limitation being known, the fate of the human race, as regards
its worldly destinies, may be thus summed up:—‹1st›, Simultaneous
elevation of all the social ranks, or of the general level of
humanity; ‹2d›, Indefinite approximation of conditions, and
successive annihilation of the distances which separate classes, as
far as consistent with absolute justice; ‹3d›, Relative diminution
of the numbers of the lowest and highest orders, and extension of
intermediate classes. It may be said that these laws must lead
to absolute equality. No more than the constant approximation of
asymptotical lines can finally load to their junction. . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* * * * *
This chapter, the greater part of which was written in 1846,
does not perhaps express with sufficient clearness the author’s
opposition to the ideas of Malthus. [p424]
Bastiat explains here very clearly the unperceived and naturally
preventive action of individual motive,—the progressive desire for
happiness, the ambition of men to better their condition; and the
habit which causes each to regard the competence he has gained as
a necessity,—‹an inferior limit of the means of existence›, below
which no one would willingly see his family reduced. But this is in
some measure the negative view of the law. It only shows that in
every society founded upon the institutions of property and family,
population ceases to be a ‹danger›.
It remains to be shown that ‹population is in itself a force›, and
to prove the necessary increase of productive power which results
from the density of population. This, as the author has himself said
(p. 113), is the important element neglected by Malthus, and which
discloses harmony, where Malthus discovered discordance.
From the premises indicated in the chapter ‹on Exchange›, premises
which he proposed to himself to develop in treating of population,
the conclusion which Bastiat wished to draw was decidedly
anti-Malthusian. We find it stated in one of the last notes which he
wrote, and he recommends its being insisted on:—
“In the chapter on Exchange it has been demonstrated that, in a
state of isolation, man’s wants surpass his faculties, and that, in
the social state, his faculties surpass his wants.
“This excess of faculties over wants proceeds from exchange, which
is—association of efforts—separation of occupations.
“Thence an action and a reaction of causes and effects, in a circle
of progress which is infinite.
“The superiority of faculties over wants, creating for each
generation an excess of wealth, permits it to rear a more numerous
offspring. A generation more numerous implies a better and more
marked separation of occupations, and a new degree of superiority
given to faculties over wants.
“This exhibits an admirable harmony.
“Thus, at a given epoch, the general aggregate of wants being
represented by 100, and that of faculties by 110, the excess of 10
is thus divided,—5, for example, goes to the amelioration of men’s
condition, to the provoking of wants of a more elevated character,
to the development of self-respect, etc.,—and 5 to the augmentation
of their numbers.
“The wants of the second generation are 110,—namely, 5 more in
quantity, and 5 more in quality.
“But for that very reason (for the double reason of the more
complete physical, intellectual, and moral development, and of
the greater density of population, which renders production more
easy), the faculties have also increased in power. They will be
represented, for example, by the figures 120 or 130.
“New excess, new division, etc.
“And let us not fear the ‹trop plein›. The elevation of wants,
which is nothing else than the sentiment of dignity, is a natural
limit. . . . .”
«Editor.» [p425]
XVII.
PRIVATE AND PUBLIC SERVICES.
‹Services› are exchanged for ‹services›.
The ‹equivalence› of ‹services› results from voluntary exchange, and
the free bargaining and discussion which precede it.
In other words, each ‹service› rendered to society is ‹worth› as much
as any other service of which it constitutes the equivalent, provided
‹supply› and ‹demand› are in all respects perfectly ‹free›.
It is in vain to carp and refine upon it; it is impossible to
conceive the idea of value without associating with it the idea of
liberty.
When the equivalence of services is not impaired by violence,
restriction, or fraud, we may pronounce that ‹justice› prevails.
I do not mean to say that the human race will then have reached
the extreme limit of improvement, for liberty does not exclude the
errors of individual appreciations—man is frequently the dupe of his
judgments and passions, nor are his desires always arranged in the
most rational order. We have seen that the value of a service may be
appreciated without there being any reasonable proportion between
its value and its utility; and this arises from our giving certain
desires precedence over others It is the progress of intelligence,
of good sense, and of manners, which establishes this fair and just
proportion by putting each service, if I may so express myself, in
its right moral place. A frivolous object, a puerile show, an immoral
pleasure, may have much value in one country, and may be despised
or repudiated in another. The equivalence of services, then, is a
different thing from a just appreciation of their utility. But still,
as regards this, it is liberty and the sense of responsibility which
correct and improve our tastes, our desires, our satisfactions, and
our appreciations.
In all countries of the world, there exists one class of services,
which, as regards the manner in which they are distributed and
[p426] remunerated, accomplishes an evolution quite different from
that of private or free services. I allude to ‹public services›.
When a want assumes a character so universal and so uniform that one
can describe it as a ‹public want›, it may be convenient for those
people who form part of the same agglomeration (be it district,
province, or country) to provide for the satisfaction of that want by
collective action, or a collective delegation of power. In that case,
they name functionaries whose duty it is to render to the community,
and distribute among them, the service in question, and whose
remuneration they provide for by a contribution which is, at least in
principle, proportionate to the means of each member of the society.
In reality, the primordial elements of the social economy are
not necessarily impaired or set aside by this peculiar form of
exchange,—above all, when the consent of all parties is assumed. It
still resolves itself into a transmission of efforts, a transmission
of services. These functionaries labour to satisfy the wants of the
taxpayers, and the taxpayers labour to satisfy the wants of the
functionaries. The relative value of their reciprocal services is
determined by a method which we shall have afterwards to examine; but
the essential principles of the exchange, speaking in the abstract at
least, remain intact.
Those authors, then, are wrong, who, influenced by their dislike of
unjust and oppressive taxes, regard as ‹lost› all values devoted to
the public service.[94] This unqualified condemnation will not bear
examination. In so far as ‹loss› or ‹gain› is concerned, the public
service, scientifically considered, differs in nothing from ‹private
service›. Whether I protect my field myself, or pay a man for
protecting it or pay the State for causing it to be protected, there
is always a sacrifice with a corresponding benefit. In both ways, no
doubt, I lose this amount of labour, but I gain security. It is not a
loss, but an exchange.
Will it be said that I give a material object, and receive in return
a thing without body or form? This is just to fall back upon the
erroneous theory of value. As long as we attribute value to matter,
not to services, we must regard every public service as being
without value, or lost. Afterwards, when we begin to shift [p427]
about between what is true and what is false, on the subject of
value, we shift about between what is true and what is false on the
subject of taxation.
If taxation is not necessarily a loss, still less is it necessarily
spoliation.[95] No doubt, in modern societies, spoliation by means
of taxation is perpetrated on a great scale. We shall afterwards see
that it is one of the most active of those causes which disturb the
equivalence of services and the harmony of interests. But the best
way of combating and eradicating the abuses of taxation, is to steer
clear of that exaggeration which would represent all taxation as
being ‹essentially›, and ‹in itself›, spoliation.
Thus, considered in themselves, in their own nature, in their normal
state, and apart from abuses, ‹public services›, like ‹private
services›, resolve themselves into pure exchanges.
But the modes in which, in these two forms of exchange, services are
compared, bargained for, and transmitted, the modes in which they are
brought to an equilibrium or equivalence, and in which their relative
value is manifested, are so different in themselves, and in their
effects, that the reader will bear with me if I dwell at some length
on this difficult subject, one of the most interesting which can be
presented to the consideration of the economist and the statesman. It
is here, in truth, that we have the connecting link between politics
and social economy. It is here that we discover the origin and
tendency of the most fatal error which has ever infected the science,
the error of confounding society with Government; society being the
grand ‹whole›, which includes both private and public services, and
Government, the fraction which includes public services alone.
Unfortunately, when, by following the teaching of Rousseau, and his
apt scholars the French republicans, we employ indifferently the
words Government and Society, we pronounce, implicitly, beforehand,
and without examination, that the State can and ought to absorb
private exertion altogether, along with individual liberty and
responsibility. We conclude that all private services ought to be
converted into public services. We conclude that the social order
is a conventional and contingent fact which owes its existence to
the law. We pronounce the lawgiver [p428] omnipotent, and mankind
powerless, as having forfeited their rights.
In fact, we see public services, or governmental action, extended
or restrained according to circumstances of time and place, from
the Communism of Sparta, or the Missions of Paraguay, to the
individualism of the United States, and the centralization of France.
The question which presents itself on the threshold of Politics, as a
science, then, is this:—
What are the services which should remain in the domain of private
activity? And what are the services which should fall within that of
public or collective activity?