MEDITATIONS ON POLITICS
“_In dealing with the State, we ought to remember that its
institutions are not aboriginal, though they existed before we were
born; that they are not superior to the citizen, that every one of
them was the act of a single man, every law and usage was a man’s
expedient to meet a particular case._”
What has been said of Emerson’s faith in the “Divine Newness” must
be taken into account when we read his essay on politics. Like the
Epistles of St. Paul, it contains some things hard to be understood,
“which they that are unlearned and unstable wrest to their own
destruction.” I have seen an anarchistic pamphlet which was made up
almost entirely of quotations from Emerson.
Indeed, on the face of it, it appears to be an argument not only
against political parties, but against government in general. This is
because doubt is thrown upon what we usually call the foundations of
organized society. Emerson did not believe that government had any
_foundations_. He did not think of it as a building solidly resting
upon a rock, and where one stone is fitted upon another. He thought of
the state as a living body perpetually being renewed and having a power
of motion. This organism so long as it is healthy can adapt itself to
all kinds of conditions. The aim of politics is not to prevent change,
but to prevent stagnation, which is death.
Before reading Emerson on Politics, read Burke’s wonderful tributes to
the British Constitution and diatribes on the French Revolution. To
Burke the British Constitution was a stately English mansion. It was
the home of ordered Liberty. Generations have worked upon this mighty
edifice. It was founded by the fathers; the new generations could
add to it. But let no vandal attempt to dislodge one stone. It must
be preserved in all its original beauty. The institution once formed
became itself the object of pious solicitude. It was not a tool to be
used, but a sacred symbol of the nation’s life.
Emerson did not feel that any political institution had such sanctity
as that. “To the young citizen,” he says, “organized society lies
in rigid repose, men and institutions rooted like oak trees to the
center around which all arrange themselves as best they can. But the
old statesman knows that society is fluid; there are no such roots
and centers, but any particle may suddenly become the center of the
movement and compel the system to gyrate around it.”
“That kind of government which prevails is the expression of what
cultivation exists in the society which permits it. The law is only a
memorandum. We are superstitious and esteem the statute somewhat. So
much life as it has in the character of living men is its force.”
He then considers the two objects for which governments exist--persons
and property. He shows how it is the tendency of the propertied classes
to get control of the government and make the laws. This is so even in
a democracy. The protection of property then becomes the business of
governments rather than the welfare of persons.
“Ordinarily our parties are parties of circumstances and not of
principle, as the planting interest in conflict with the commercial,
parties which are identical in their moral character, and which can
easily change ground with each other in many of their measures.”
The conservative party may be composed of kind-hearted and excellent
people, but it can never be trusted when property interests conflict
with personal rights. “The conservative party, composed of the most
moderate, able and cultivated part of the community, is timid and
merely defensive of property. It vindicates no right, it aspires to no
real good, it brands no crime, it proposes no generous policy, it does
not build, nor cherish the arts, nor foster religion, nor establish
schools, nor encourage science, nor emancipate the slave, nor befriend
the poor, or the Indian, or the immigrant.”
We Americans boast of our political institutions.
“But our institutions, though in coincidence with the spirit of the
age, have not any exemption from the practical defects which have
discredited other forms. Every actual state is corrupt. Good men must
not obey the laws too well. What satire on government can equal the
severity of censure conveyed in the word ‘politic,’ which for ages has
signified cunning, intimating that the state is a trick.
“We live in a very low state of the world and pay unwilling tribute to
governments founded on force.”
The essay ends with a glowing picture of a society of perfect freedom,
in which reliance would be put on moral forces alone, and “the private
citizen might be reasonable and a good neighbor without the hint of a
jail or confiscation.”
As we come to this conclusion, we say with a start, “This mild-spoken
gentleman has been saying something which sounds very much like what
the revolutionary radicals have been preaching with lamentable results.
He has brought us to the edge of the precipice of philosophic anarchy.”
Perhaps so, but the mild-mannered gentleman is not an anarchist, and it
has never entered his head to jump off the precipice. He has come to
look at the view and he intends to return home by way of the turnpike.
What Emerson has been saying is that political institutions are not
ends in themselves, and that it is a superstition to regard them as
such. They are expedients that are always capable of improvement.
The resort to physical coercion would not be necessary in a perfect
society. But in the meantime, what are we to do? Emerson’s common sense
makes answer.
“Let not the most conservative and timid fear anything from the
premature surrender of the bayonet and the system of force. For
according to the order of Nature, which is quite superior to our
will, it stands thus: there will always be a government of force
where men are selfish; and when they are pure enough to abjure the
code of force, they will be wise enough to see how the public ends
of the post-office, of the highway, of commerce, and the exchange of
property, of museums, libraries, institutions of art and science can
be answered.”
Emerson would agree with the philosophical anarchist in saying that a
society is possible in which men and women can regulate their affairs
without the consciousness of any coercive governmental force. He would
agree also that we ought to strive after such a free society. But when
it came to the practical question as to how to attain this ideal,
they would part company. The anarchist would say, “Let us abolish
government, and then we shall have a community of individuals each one
of whom will be a law unto himself.”
Emerson would say, “I can not follow you. You put the cart before the
horse. You have fallen into the political superstition against which
I have been protesting. You attribute to the _absence_ of government
power which the legalists attribute to governmental control. They
think that law can make men virtuous; you think that the lack of it
can perform the miracle. My attitude is that of Paul in regard to
the observance of the Jewish ceremonial law. ‘Circumcision availeth
nothing, and uncircumcision but the new creature.’”
“Yes,” the practical man would say, “that is all very well, but how
are you going to get the new creature? If we had better men, wise,
temperate, just, tolerant, we should not need so many laws; but how are
we to produce such personalities?”
At this point, the philosophy of the twentieth century would take issue
with the liberalism of the nineteenth century. We have more faith in
the power of institutions than had Emerson and his contemporaries. We
are trying the experiment of free government under much more difficult
conditions, The study of the social sciences has made us emphasize
cooperation. May not society through wise laws and well-conceived
institutions direct its own destinies?
To which Emerson would answer: “Yes, if society is composed of enough
wise and self-reliant individuals. But social progress depends on
individual progress. A man must be able to stand alone before he is
able to cooperate to any advantage.”
His faith in the destiny of America was founded on the belief that the
people were better than their politics. There was a power there to be
invoked in time of need. We are as yet only incompletely organized, but
the power is there. Little by little there will be created institutions
that will more adequately represent the aspirations of multitudes of
private persons.
“When I look at the constellations of cities which animate and
illustrate the land, and see how little the government has to do with
their daily life, how self-helped and self-directed all families
are--knots of people in purely natural societies--societies of
trade, of kindred blood, of habitual hospitality, house and house,
man acting on man by weight of opinion, of longer or better directed
industry, the refining influence of women, the invitation which
experience and permanent causes open to youth and labors--when I see
how much each virtuous and gifted person, whom all men consider, lives
affectionately with scores of excellent people who are not known far
from home, and perhaps with great reason reckons these people his
superiors in virtue and in the symmetry and force of their qualities,
I see what cubic values America has, and in these a better certificate
of civilization than great cities or enormous wealth.”
In regard to the definite political issues of the time, Emerson’s
sympathies were clearly expressed. Slavery was always an abomination
to him, but he was slow to identify himself with the abolitionists.
Their narrowness and intolerance offended his sense of fair play, while
their courage attracted him. When the issue became one of the right
to free speech, he stood squarely with them. Against the extension of
slavery he protested vigorously. When the Civil War came, Emerson threw
himself heartily into the side of the Union. Toward Lincoln himself
his attitude was one of doubt till the proclamation of emancipation
came. After that there was no one who did more to interpret the soul of
Lincoln to the people.
But in one thing Emerson differed from most of the New England
idealists. He did not put his trust in the respectable classes alone.
He delighted in the crude strength of the people. His conception of
American politics was that which Theodore Roosevelt so admirably
illustrated in the generation following. It was the magnificent
challenge to the reformer who was virile enough to meet all men on
their own ground and overcome them there.
“A timid man,” Emerson says, “listening to the alarmist in
Congress and in the newspapers and observing the profligacy of
party--sectional interests urged with a fury which shuts its eyes to
consequences, with a mind made up to desperate extremities, ballot in
one hand and rifle in the other, might easily believe that he and his
country had seen their best days and harden himself the best he can
against the coming ruin.”
But he believed that there were elements of strength which the timid
man did not take into account. The rough and ready politician was
likely to be more nearly right than the fastidious person who despairs
of the republic.
“Let these rough riders,--legislators in shirtsleeves,--Hoosier,
Sucker, Wolverine, Badger,--or whatever hard head Arkansas, Oregon,
or Utah sends, half orator, half assassin, to represent its wrath
and cupidity at Washington,--let these drive as they may; and the
disposition of territories and public lands, the necessity of
balancing and keeping at bay the snarling majorities of German, Irish,
and of native millions, will bestow promptness, address, and reason,
at last, on our buffalo-hunter, and authority and majesty of manners.
The instinct of the people is right. Men expect from good Whigs put
into offices by the respectability of the country, much less skill to
deal with Mexico, Spain, Britain, or with our own malcontent members,
than from some strong transgressor, like Jefferson, or Jackson, who
first conquers his own government, and then uses the same genius to
conquer the foreigner. The senators who dissented from Mr. Polk’s
Mexican war were not those who knew better, but those who, from
political position, could afford it; not Webster, but Benton and
Calhoun.
“These Hoosiers and Suckers are really better than the snivelling
opposition. Their wrath is at least of a bold and manly cast. They
see, against the unanimous declarations of the people, how much crime
the people will bear; they proceed from step to step, and they have
calculated but too justly upon their Excellencies, the New England
governors, and upon their Honours, the New England legislators. The
messages of the governors and the resolutions of the legislatures are
a proverb for expressing a sham virtuous indignation, which, in the
course of events, is sure to be belied.”
Wisdom is justified of her children and Emerson’s political teachings
bore fruit in a man of the next generation,--Theodore Roosevelt.
Roosevelt’s “strenuous life” was a popular exposition of the Emersonian
doctrine. The strong man is needed in a democracy. He must understand
the snarling majorities and the obstinate minorities. He must enjoy
the conflict. He must play the game. But he must at the same time have
a moral ideal of his own, simple and commanding. He must be not a
statuesque statesman but a rough and ready idealist.