and political theorists played in supplying the patriotic party in
America with logical arguments and philosophic reasons for the practical
course which they followed. The doctrines of John Locke and Algernon
Sidney were congenial and sustaining to men who had already resolved to
govern themselves. From Holland aid and comfort came in the works of
Grotius. Italy gave inspiration and support in the books of Beccaria and
Burlamaqui on the essential principles of liberty. The French intellect,
already preparing for another revolution, did much to clarify and
rationalize American thought through the sober and searching writings of
Montesquieu, and perhaps even more to supply it with enthusiastic
eloquence through the dithyrambic theories of Rousseau. The doctrines
of natural law, and the rights of man, and the pursuit of happiness,
were freely used by the patriotic orators to enforce their appeals to
the people. It is impossible not to recognize the voice of the famous
Genevese in the words of Alexander Hamilton: "The sacred rights of men
are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty records. They
are written as with a sunbeam in the whole volume of human nature by the
hand of divinity itself, and can never be erased by mortal power."
But it still remains true that the mainspring of American independence
is not to be found in any philosophic system or in any political theory.
It was a vital impulse, a common sentiment in the soul of a people
conscious of the ability and the determination to manage their own
affairs. The logic which they followed was the logic of events and
results. They were pragmatists. The spirit of self-reliance led them on,
reluctantly, inevitably, step by step, through remonstrance,
recalcitrance, resistance, until they came to the republic.
"Permit us to be as free as yourselves," they said to the people of
Great Britain, "and we shall ever esteem a union with you to be our
greatest glory and our greatest happiness." "No," answered Parliament.
"Protect us as a loving father," they said to the king, "and forbid a
licentious ministry any longer to riot in the ruins of mankind." "No,"
answered the king. "Very well, then," said the colonists, "we are, and
of right ought to be, free and independent. We have governed ourselves.
We are able to govern ourselves. We shall continue to govern ourselves,
under such forms as we already possess; and when these are not
sufficient, _we will make such forms as shall, in the opinion of the
representatives of the people, best conduce to the happiness and safety
of their constituents in particular and of America in general_."
This resolution of the Continental Congress, on May 10, 1776, gives the
key-note of all subsequent American history. Republicanism was not
adopted because it was the only conceivable, or rational, or legitimate,
form of government. It was continued, enlarged, organized, consolidated,
because it was the form in which the spirit of self-reliance in the
whole people found itself most at home, most happy and secure.
The federal Union of the States was established, after long and fierce
argument, under the pressure of necessity, because it was evidently the
only way to safeguard the permanence and freedom of those States, as
well as to "establish justice, ensure domestic tranquillity, provide for
the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the
blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity."
The Amendments to the Constitution which were adopted in 1791 (and
without the promise of which the original document never would have been
accepted) were of the nature of a Bill of Rights, securing to every
citizen liberty of conscience and speech, protection against arbitrary
arrest, imprisonment, or deprivation of property, and especially
reserving to the respective States or to the people all powers not
delegated to the United States.
The division of the general government into three branches--legislative,
executive, and judicial; the strict delimitation of the powers committed
to these three branches; the careful provision of checks and
counterchecks intended to prevent the predominance of any one branch
over the others; all these are features against which political
theorists and philosophers may bring, and have brought, strong
arguments. They hinder quick action; they open the way to contests of
authority; they are often a serious drawback in international diplomacy.
But they express the purpose of a self-reliant people not to let the
ultimate power pass from their hands to any one of the instruments which
they have created. And for this purpose they have worked well, and are
still in working order. For this reason the Americans are proud of them
to a degree which other nations sometimes think unreasonable, and
attached to them with a devotion which other nations do not always
understand.
Do not mistake me. In saying that American republicanism is not the
product of philosophical argument, of abstract theory, of reasoned
conviction, I do not mean to say that Americans do not believe in it.
They do.
Now and then you will find one of them who says that he would prefer a
monarchy or an aristocracy. But you may be sure that he is an eccentric,
or a man with a grievance against the custom-house, or a fond person who
feels confident of his own place in the royal family or at least in the
nobility. You may safely leave him out in trying to understand the real
Spirit of America.
The people as a whole believe in the republic very firmly, and at times
very passionately. And the vital reason for this belief is because it
springs out of life and is rooted in life. It comes from that spirit of
self-reliance which has been and is still the strongest American
characteristic, in the individual, the community, and the nation.
It seems to me that we must apprehend this in order to comprehend many
things that are fundamental in the life of America and the character of
her people. Let me speak of a few of these things, and try to show how
they have their roots in this quality of self-reliance.
Take, for example, the singular political construction of the
nation,--a thing which Europeans find it almost impossible to understand
without a long residence in America. It is a united country composed of
States which have a distinct individual life and a carefully guarded
sovereignty.
Massachusetts, New York, Virginia, Illinois, Texas, California, even the
little States like Rhode Island and Maryland, are political entities
just as real, just as conscious of their own being, as the United
States, of which each of them forms an integral part. They have their
own laws, their own courts, their own systems of domestic taxation,
their own flags, their own militia, their own schools and universities.
"The American citizen." Professor Münsterberg rightly says, "in daily
life is first of all a member of his special State."
This distinction of local life is not to be traced to an original
allegiance to different owners or lords, a duke of Savoy or Burgundy, a
king of Prussia or Saxony. It is quite unlike the difference among the
provinces of the French republic or the states of the German Empire. It
is primarily the result of a local spirit of self-reliance, a habit of
self-direction, in the people who have worked together to build up these
States, to develop their resources, to give them shape and substance.
This is the true explanation of State pride, and of the sense of an
individual life in the different commonwealths which compose the
nation.
Every one knows that this feeling was so strong immediately after the
Revolution that it nearly made the Union impossible. Every one knows
that this feeling was so strong in the middle of the nineteenth century
that it nearly destroyed the Union. But every one does not know that
this feeling is still extant and active,--an essential and potent factor
in the political life of America.
The Civil War settled once for all the open and long-disputed question
of the nature of the tie which binds the States together. The Union may
be a compact, but it is an indissoluble compact. The United States is
not a confederacy. It is a nation. Yet the local sovereignty of the
States which it embraces has not been touched. The spirit of
self-reliance in each commonwealth guards its rights jealously, and the
law of the nation protects them.
It was but a little while ago that a proposal was made in Congress to
unite the territories of Arizona and New Mexico and admit them to the
Union as one State. But the people of Arizona protested. They did not
wish to be mixed up with people of New Mexico, for whom they professed
dislike and even contempt. They would rather stay out than come in under
such conditions. The protest was sufficient to block the proposed
action.
I have been reading lately a series of recent decisions by the Supreme
Court, touching on various questions, like the right of one State to
make the C.O.D. shipment of whiskey from another State a penal offence,
or the right of the United States to interfere with the State of
Colorado in the use of the water of the Arkansas River for purposes of
irrigation. In all of these decisions, whether on whiskey or on water, I
find that the great principle laid down by Chief Justice Marshall is
clearly admitted and sustained: "The Government of the United States is
one of enumerated powers." Further powers can be obtained only by a new
grant from the people. "One cardinal rule," says Justice Brewer,
"underlying all the relations of the States to each other is that of
equality of right. Each State stands on the same level with all the
rest. It can impose its own legislation on none of the others, and is
bound to yield its own views to none."
Now it is evident that this peculiar structure of the nation necessarily
permits, perhaps implies, a constant rivalry between two forms of the
spirit of self-reliance,--the local form and the general form.
Emphasize the one, and you have a body of public opinion which moves in
the direction of strengthening, enhancing, perhaps enlarging, the powers
given to the central government. Emphasize the other, and you have a
body of public opinion which opposes every encroachment upon the powers
reserved to the local governments, and seeks to strengthen the whole by
fortifying the parts of which it is composed.
Here you have the two great political parties of America. They are
called to-day the Republican and the Democratic. But the names mean
nothing. In fact, the party which now calls itself Democratic bore the
name of Republican down to 1832; and those who were called successively
Federalists and Whigs did not finally take the name of Republicans until
1860. In reality, political opinion, or perhaps it would be more correct
to say political feeling, divides on this great question of the
centralization or the division of power. The controversy lies between
the two forms of the spirit of self-reliance; that which is embodied in
the consciousness of the whole nation and that which is embodied in the
consciousness of each community. The Democrats naturally speak for the
latter; the Republicans for the former.
Of course in our campaigns and elections the main issue is often
confused and beclouded. New problems and disputes arise in which the
bearing of proposed measures is not clear. The parties have come to be
great physical organizations, with vested interests to defend, with an
outward life to perpetuate. Like all human institutions, both of them
have the instinct of self-preservation. They both try to follow the tide
of popular sentiments. They both insert planks in their platforms which
seem likely to win votes. Sometimes they both hit upon the same planks,
and it is very difficult to determine the original ownership.
At present, for example, the great industrial and commercial trusts and
corporations are very unpopular. The Democrats and the Republicans both
declare their intention to correct and restrain them. Each party claims
to be the original friend of the people, the real St. George who will
certainly slay the Dragon of Trusts. Thus we have had the amusing
spectacle of Mr. Bryan commending and praising Mr. Roosevelt for his
conversion to truly Democratic principles and policies, and adding that
the Democrats were the right men to carry them out, while Mr. Taft
insisted that the popular measures were essentially Republican, and that
his party was the only one which could be trusted to execute them wisely
and safely.
But, in spite of these temporary bewilderments, you will find, in the
main, that the Republicans have a tendency towards centralizing
measures, and therefore incline to favour national banks, a protective
tariff, enlargement of executive functions, colonial expansion, a
greater naval and military establishment, and a consequent increase of
national expenditure; while the Democrats, as a rule, are on the side of
non-centralizing measures, and therefore inclined to favour a large and
elastic currency, free trade or tariff for revenue only, strict
interpretation of the Constitution, an army and navy sufficient for
police purposes, a progressive income tax, and a general policy of
national economy.
The important thing to remember is that these two forms of the spirit of
self-reliance, the general and the local, still exist side by side in
American political life, and that it is probably a good thing to have
them represented in two great parties, in order that a due balance may
be kept between them.
The tendency to centralization has been in the lead, undoubtedly, during
the last forty years. It is in accord with what is called the spirit of
the age. But the other tendency is still deep and strong in
America,--stronger I believe than anywhere else in the world. The most
valuable rights of the citizen (except in territories and colonies), his
personal freedom, family relations, and property, are still protected
mainly by the State in which he lives and of which he is a member,--a
State which is politically unknown to any foreign nation, and which
exists only for the other States which are united with it!
A curious condition of affairs! Yet it is real. It is historically
accountable. It belongs to the Spirit of America. For the people of that
country think with Tocqueville that "Those who dread the license of the
mob, and those who fear absolute power, ought alike to desire the
gradual development of provincial liberties."
This is the way in which America was made. This is how Americans wish to
keep it. An attempt of either party in power to destroy the principle
for which the other stands would certainly fail. The day when it seemed
possible to dissolve the Union is past. The day when the Union will
absorb and obliterate the States is not in sight.
But it is not only in this relation of the States and the nation that
you may see the workings of the spirit of which I am speaking. Within
each State the spirit of self-reliance is developed and cherished in
city, county, and township. Public improvements, roads and streets,
police, education,--these are the important things which, as a rule, the
State leaves to the local community. The city, the county, the township,
attend to them. They must be paid for out of the local pocket. And the
local talent of the citizens feels able and entitled to regulate them.
Sometimes it is well done. Sometimes it is very badly done. But the
doing of it is a privilege which a self-reliant people would be loath to
resign.
Each man wishes to have his share in the discussion. The habit of
argument is universal. The confidence in the ultimate judgment of the
community is general. The assurance of ability to lead is frequent. And
through the local office, the small task, the way lies open to larger
duties and positions in the State and the nation.
It is not true that every native-born newsboy in America thinks that he
_can_ become President. But he knows that he _may_ if he can; and
perhaps it is this knowledge, or perhaps it is something in his blood,
that often encourages him to try how far he can go on the way. I suppose
it is true that there are more ambitious boys in America than in any
other country of the world.
At the same time this spirit of self-reliance works in another and
different direction. Within the seemingly complicated politics of
nation, State, and town, each typical American is a person who likes to
take care of himself, to have his own way, to manage his own affairs. He
is not inclined to rely upon the State for aid and comfort. He wants not
as much government as possible, but as little. He dislikes interference.
Sometimes he resents control. He is an individual, a person, and he
feels very strongly that personal freedom is what he most needs, and
that he is able to make good use of a large amount of it.
Now it is evident that such a spirit as this has its weakness as well as
its strength. It leads easily to overconfidence, to ignorant
self-assurance, to rashness in undertaking tasks, and to careless haste
in performing them.
It is good to be a person, but not good that every person should think
himself a personage. It is good to be ready for any duty, but not good
to undertake any duty without making ready for it.
There are many Americans who have too little respect for special
training, and too much confidence in their power to solve the problems
of philosophy and statesmanship extemporaneously.
No doubt there is a popular tendency to disregard exceptional powers and
attainments, and to think that one man is as good as another. No doubt
you can find in America some cases of self-reliance so hypertrophied
that it amounts to impudence towards the laws of the universe. This is
socially disagreeable, politically dangerous, and morally regrettable.
Yet we must not forget the other side. The spirit of self-reliance is
not to be judged by its failures, but by its successes.
It has enabled America to assert an independence which the rest of the
world, except France, thought impossible; to frame a government which
the rest of the world, including France, thought impracticable; and to
survive civil storms and perils which all the world thought fatal. It
has animated the American people with a large and cheerful optimism
which takes for granted that great things are worth doing, and tries to
do them. It has made it easier to redeem a continent from the ancient
wilderness and to build on new ground a civilized state sufficient to
itself.
The spirit of self-reliance has fallen into mistakes, but it has shunned
delays, evasions, and despairs. It has begotten explorers, pioneers,
inventors. It has trained masters of industry in the school of action.
It has saved the poor man from the fetters of his poverty, and delivered
the lowly man from the prison of his obscurity.
Perhaps it has spoiled the worst material; but it has made the most of
the average material; and it has bettered the best material. It has
developed in such leaders as Franklin, Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln,
Lee, Grant, and Cleveland a very noble and excellent manhood, calm,
steady, equal to all emergencies.
Somehow it has brought out of the turmoil of events and conflicts the
soul of an adult people, ready to trust itself and to advance into the
new day without misgiving.
III
FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY
III
FAIR PLAY AND DEMOCRACY
It is no mistake to think of America as a democratic country. But if you
wish to understand the nature and quality of the democracy which
prevails there,--its specific marks, its peculiarities, and perhaps its
inconsistencies,--you must trace it to its source in _the spirit of fair
play_. Therefore it will be profitable to study this spirit a little
more carefully, to define it a little more clearly, and to consider some
illustrations of its working in American institutions, society, and
character.
The spirit of fair play, in its deepest origin, is a kind of religion.
It is true that religious organizations have not always shown it so that
it could be identified by people outside. But this has been the fault of
the organizations. At bottom, fair play is a man's recognition of the
fact that he is not alone in the universe, that the world was not made
for his private benefit, that the law of being is a benevolent justice
which must regard and rule him as well as his fellow-men with sincere
impartiality, and that any human system or order which interferes with
this impartiality is contrary to the will of the Supreme Wisdom and
Love. Is not this a kind of religion, and a very good kind? Do we not
instinctively recognize a Divine authority in its voice when it says:
"Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto
them"?
But in its practical operation in everyday affairs this spirit is not
always conscious of its deep origin. It is not usually expressed in
terms of religion, any more than an ordinary weighing-machine is
inscribed with the formula of gravitation. It appears simply as the wish
to conduct trade with just weights and measures, to live in a State
which affords equal protection and opportunity to all its citizens, to
play a game in which the rules are the same for every player, and a good
stroke counts, no matter who makes it.
The Anglo-Saxon race has fallen into the habit of claiming this spirit
of fair play as its own peculiar property. The claim does not illustrate
the quality which it asserts. Certainly no one can defend the
proposition that the growth of this spirit in America was due
exclusively, or even chiefly, to English influence. It was in New
England and in Virginia that ecclesiastical intolerance and social
exclusiveness were most developed. In the middle colonies like New York,
Pennsylvania, and Delaware, where the proportion of colonists from
Holland, France, and Germany was much larger, a more liberal and
tolerant spirit prevailed.
But, after all, it must be acknowledged that in the beginning there was
no part of America where the spirit of self-reliance really carried with
it that necessary complement,--the spirit of fair play. This was a thing
of much slower growth. Indeed, it was not until the American people,
passionately desiring self-rule, were brought into straits where they
needed the help of every man to fight for independence, that they began
to feel the right of every man to share equally in the benefits and
privileges of that self-rule.
I pass by the discussion of the reasons why this second trait in the
soul of the people developed later than the first. I pass by the
tempting opportunity to describe the absurd pretensions of colonial
aristocracy. I pass by the familiar theme of the inflexible prejudices
of Puritan theocracy, which led men to interpret liberty of conscience
as the right to practise their own form of worship and to persecute all
others. I pass by the picturesque and neglected spectacle of the
violence of the mobs which shouted for liberty--a violence which reminds
one of the saying of Rivarol that "the crowd never believes that it has
liberty until it attacks the liberties of others." All this I pass by
for want of time, and come at once to the classic utterance of the
spirit of fair play in America--I mean the Declaration of Independence.
If I must apologize for discussing a document so familiar, it is because
familiarity, not being illuminated by intelligence, has bred in these
latter days a certain kind of contempt. A false interpretation has led
the enthusiastic admirers of the Declaration of Independence to complain
that it has been abandoned, and its scornful despisers to say that it
ought to be abandoned. The Declaration, in fact, has been as variously
and as absurdly explained as the writings of St. Paul, of whom a French
critic said that "the only man of the second century who understood St.
Paul was Marcion, and he _mis_understood him."
Take the famous sentence from the beginning of that document. "We hold
these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal; that
they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that
among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; that to
secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving
their just powers from the consent of the governed; that whenever any
form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of
the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute a new form of
government, laying its foundations on such principles and organizing its
power in such form as to them shall seem most likely to effect their
safety and happiness."
Now what have we here? A defence of revolution, no doubt, but not a
sweeping and unqualified defence. It is carefully guarded and limited by
the condition that revolution is justified only when government becomes
destructive of its own ends,--the security and the happiness of the
people.