.
| [An excerpt from the
book, Modern Democracy, published in 1941. This is from
Lecture I, "The Ideal"] |
Democracy, like liberty or science or progress, is a word with which we
are all so familiar that we rarely take the trouble to ask what we mean
by it. It is a term, as the devotees of semantics say, which has no "referent"
-- there is no precise or palpable thing or object which we all think of
when the word is pronounced. On the contrary, it is a word which
connotes different things to different people, a kind of conceptual
Gladstone bag which, with a little manipulation, can be made to
accommodate almost any collection of social facts we may wish to carry
about in it. In it we can as easily pack a dictatorship as any other
form of government. We have only to stretch the concept to include any
form of government supported by a majority of the people, for whatever
reasons and by whatever means of expressing assent, and before we know
it the empire of Napoleon, the Soviet regime of Stalin, and the Fascist
systems of Mussolini and Hitler are all safely in the bag. But if this
is what we mean by democracy, then virtually all forms of government are
democratic, since virtually all governments, except in times of
revolution, rest upon the explicit or implicit consent of the people. In
order to discuss democracy intelligently it will be necessary,
therefore, to define it, to attach to the word a sufficiently precise
meaning to avoid the confusion which is not infrequently the chief
result of such discussions.
All human institutions, we are told, have their ideal forms laid away
in heaven, and we do not need to be told that the actual institutions
conform but indifferently to these ideal counterparts. It would be
possible then to define democracy either in terms of the ideal or in
terms of the real form -- to define it as government of the people, by
the people, for the people; or to define it as government of the people,
by the politicians, for whatever pressure groups can get their interests
taken care of. But as a historian I am naturally disposed to be
satisfied with the meaning which, in the history of politics, men have
commonly attributed to the word -- a meaning, needless to say, which
derives partly from the experience and partly from the aspirations of
mankind. So regarded, the term democracy refers primarily to a form of
government, and it has always meant government by the many as opposed to
government by the one -- government by the people as opposed to
government by a tyrant, a dictator, or an absolute monarch. This is the
most general meaning of the word as men have commonly understood it.
In this antithesis there are, however, certain implications, always
tacitly understood, which give a more precise meaning to the term.
Peisistratus, for example, was supported by a majority of the people,
but his government was never regarded as a democracy for all that.
Caesar's power derived from a popular mandate, conveyed through
established republican forms, but that did not make his government any
the less a dictatorship. Napoleon called his government a democratic
empire, but no one, least of all Napoleon himself, doubted that he had
destroyed the last vestiges of the democratic republic. Since the Greeks
first used the term, the essential test of democratic government has
always been this: the source of political authority must be and remain
in the people and not in the ruler. A democratic government has always
meant one in which the citizens, or a sufficient number of them to
represent more or less effectively the common will, freely act from time
to time, and according to established forms, to appoint or recall the
magistrates and to enact or revoke the laws by which the community is
governed. This I take to be the meaning which history has impressed upon
the term democracy as a form of government.
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