Chapter XV: 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.