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diff --git a/6456.txt b/6456.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62924f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/6456.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11406 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Public Opinion, by Walter Lippmann + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + +Title: Public Opinion + +Author: Walter Lippmann + +Posting Date: October 3, 2014 [EBook #6456] +Release Date: September, 2004 +[This file was first posted on December 15, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUBLIC OPINION *** + + + + +Produced by David Phillips, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + +PUBLIC OPINION + +BY + +WALTER LIPPMANN + + +TO +FAYE LIPPMANN + +Wading River, +Long Island. +1921. + +_"Behold! human beings living in a sort of underground den, +which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all across +the den; they have been here from their childhood, and have their +legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only +see before them; for the chains are arranged in such a manner as +to prevent them from turning round their heads. At a distance +above and behind them the light of a fire is blazing, and between +the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will +see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen +which marionette players have before them, over which they show +the puppets. + +I see, he said. + +And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying +vessels, which appear over the wall; also figures of men and +animals, made of wood and stone and various materials; and some +of the prisoners, as you would expect, are talking, and some of +them are silent? + +This is a strange image, he said, and they are strange prisoners. + +Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, +or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the +opposite wall of the cave? + +True, he said: how could they see anything but the shadows if +they were never allowed to move their heads? + +And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they +would see only the shadows? + +Yes, he said. + +And if they were able to talk with one another, would they not +suppose that they were naming what was actually before them?"_ +--The Republic of Plato, Book Seven. (Jowett Translation.) + + +CONTENTS + +PART I. INTRODUCTION + +I. The World Outside and the Pictures in Our Heads + +PART II. APPROACHES TO THE WORLD OUTSIDE + +II. Censorship and Privacy + +III. Contact and Opportunity + +IV. Time and Attention + +V. Speed, Words, and Clearness + +PART III. STEREOTYPES + +VI. Stereotypes + +VII. Stereotypes as Defense + +VIII. Blind Spots and Their Value + +IX. Codes and Their Enemies + +X. The Detection of Stereotypes + +PART IV. INTERESTS + +XI. The Enlisting of Interest + +XII. Self-Interest Reconsidered + +PART V. THE MAKING OF A COMMON WILL + +XIII. The Transfer of Interest + +XIV. Yes or No + +XV. Leaders and the Rank and File + +PART VI. THE IMAGE OF DEMOCRACY + +XVI. The Self-Centered Man + +XVII. The Self-Contained Community + +XVIII. The Role of Force, Patronage, and Privilege + +XIX. The Old Image in a New Form: Guild Socialism + +XX. A New Image + +PART VII. NEWSPAPERS + +XXI. The Buying Public + +XXII. The Constant Reader + +XXIII. The Nature of News + +XXIV. News, Truth, and a Conclusion + +PART VIII. ORGANIZED INTELLIGENCE + +XXV. The Entering Wedge + +XXVI. Intelligence Work + +XXVII. The Appeal to the Public + +XXVIII. The Appeal to Reason + + + + +PART I + +INTRODUCTION + +CHAPTER I + +THE WORLD OUTSIDE AND THE PICTURES +IN OUR HEADS + + + + +CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION + +THE WORLD OUTSIDE AND THE PICTURES +IN OUR HEADS + +There is an island in the ocean where in 1914 a few Englishmen, +Frenchmen, and Germans lived. No cable reaches that island, and the +British mail steamer comes but once in sixty days. In September it had +not yet come, and the islanders were still talking about the latest +newspaper which told about the approaching trial of Madame Caillaux +for the shooting of Gaston Calmette. It was, therefore, with more than +usual eagerness that the whole colony assembled at the quay on a day +in mid-September to hear from the captain what the verdict had been. +They learned that for over six weeks now those of them who were +English and those of them who were French had been fighting in behalf +of the sanctity of treaties against those of them who were Germans. +For six strange weeks they had acted as if they were friends, when in +fact they were enemies. + +But their plight was not so different from that of most of the +population of Europe. They had been mistaken for six weeks, on the +continent the interval may have been only six days or six hours. There +was an interval. There was a moment when the picture of Europe on +which men were conducting their business as usual, did not in any way +correspond to the Europe which was about to make a jumble of their +lives. There was a time for each man when he was still adjusted to an +environment that no longer existed. All over the world as late as July +25th men were making goods that they would not be able to ship, buying +goods they would not be able to import, careers were being planned, +enterprises contemplated, hopes and expectations entertained, all in +the belief that the world as known was the world as it was. Men were +writing books describing that world. They trusted the picture in their +heads. And then over four years later, on a Thursday morning, came the +news of an armistice, and people gave vent to their unutterable relief +that the slaughter was over. Yet in the five days before the real +armistice came, though the end of the war had been celebrated, several +thousand young men died on the battlefields. + +Looking back we can see how indirectly we know the environment in +which nevertheless we live. We can see that the news of it comes to us +now fast, now slowly; but that whatever we believe to be a true +picture, we treat as if it were the environment itself. It is harder +to remember that about the beliefs upon which we are now acting, but +in respect to other peoples and other ages we flatter ourselves that +it is easy to see when they were in deadly earnest about ludicrous +pictures of the world. We insist, because of our superior hindsight, +that the world as they needed to know it, and the world as they did +know it, were often two quite contradictory things. We can see, too, +that while they governed and fought, traded and reformed in the world +as they imagined it to be, they produced results, or failed to produce +any, in the world as it was. They started for the Indies and found +America. They diagnosed evil and hanged old women. They thought they +could grow rich by always selling and never buying. A caliph, obeying +what he conceived to be the Will of Allah, burned the library at +Alexandria. + +Writing about the year 389, St. Ambrose stated the case for the +prisoner in Plato's cave who resolutely declines to turn his head. "To +discuss the nature and position of the earth does not help us in our +hope of the life to come. It is enough to know what Scripture states. +'That He hung up the earth upon nothing' (Job xxvi. 7). Why then argue +whether He hung it up in air or upon the water, and raise a +controversy as to how the thin air could sustain the earth; or why, if +upon the waters, the earth does not go crashing down to the bottom?... +Not because the earth is in the middle, as if suspended on even +balance, but because the majesty of God constrains it by the law of +His will, does it endure stable upon the unstable and the void." +[Footnote: Hexaemeron, i. cap 6, quoted in _The Mediaeval Mind_, +by Henry Osborn Taylor, Vol. i, p. 73.] + +It does not help us in our hope of the life to come. It is enough to +know what Scripture states. Why then argue? But a century and a half +after St. Ambrose, opinion was still troubled, on this occasion by the +problem of the antipodes. A monk named Cosmas, famous for his +scientific attainments, was therefore deputed to write a Christian +Topography, or "Christian Opinion concerning the World." [Footnote: +Lecky, _Rationalism in Europe_, Vol. I, pp. 276-8.] It is clear +that he knew exactly what was expected of him, for he based all his +conclusions on the Scriptures as he read them. It appears, then, that +the world is a flat parallelogram, twice as broad from east to west as +it is long from north to south., In the center is the earth surrounded +by ocean, which is in turn surrounded by another earth, where men +lived before the deluge. This other earth was Noah's port of +embarkation. In the north is a high conical mountain around which +revolve the sun and moon. When the sun is behind the mountain it is +night. The sky is glued to the edges of the outer earth. It consists +of four high walls which meet in a concave roof, so that the earth is +the floor of the universe. There is an ocean on the other side of the +sky, constituting the "waters that are above the firmament." The space +between the celestial ocean and the ultimate roof of the universe +belongs to the blest. The space between the earth and sky is inhabited +by the angels. Finally, since St. Paul said that all men are made to +live upon the "face of the earth" how could they live on the back +where the Antipodes are supposed to be? With such a passage before +his eyes, a Christian, we are told, should not 'even speak of the +Antipodes.'" [Footnote: _Id._] + +Far less should he go to the Antipodes; nor should any Christian +prince give him a ship to try; nor would any pious mariner wish to +try. For Cosmas there was nothing in the least absurd about his map. +Only by remembering his absolute conviction that this was the map of +the universe can we begin to understand how he would have dreaded +Magellan or Peary or the aviator who risked a collision with the +angels and the vault of heaven by flying seven miles up in the air. In +the same way we can best understand the furies of war and politics by +remembering that almost the whole of each party believes absolutely in +its picture of the opposition, that it takes as fact, not what is, but +what it supposes to be the fact. And that therefore, like Hamlet, it +will stab Polonius behind the rustling curtain, thinking him the king, +and perhaps like Hamlet add: + + "Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! + I took thee for thy better; take thy fortune." + +2 + +Great men, even during their lifetime, are usually known to the public +only through a fictitious personality. Hence the modicum of truth in +the old saying that no man is a hero to his valet. There is only a +modicum of truth, for the valet, and the private secretary, are often +immersed in the fiction themselves. Royal personages are, of course, +constructed personalities. Whether they themselves believe in their +public character, or whether they merely permit the chamberlain to +stage-manage it, there are at least two distinct selves, the public +and regal self, the private and human. The biographies of great people +fall more or less readily into the histories of these two selves. The +official biographer reproduces the public life, the revealing memoir +the other. The Charnwood Lincoln, for example, is a noble portrait, +not of an actual human being, but of an epic figure, replete with +significance, who moves on much the same level of reality as Aeneas or +St. George. Oliver's Hamilton is a majestic abstraction, the sculpture +of an idea, "an essay" as Mr. Oliver himself calls it, "on American +union." It is a formal monument to the state-craft of federalism, +hardly the biography of a person. Sometimes people create their own +facade when they think they are revealing the interior scene. The +Repington diaries and Margot Asquith's are a species of +self-portraiture in which the intimate detail is most revealing as an +index of how the authors like to think about themselves. + +But the most interesting kind of portraiture is that which arises +spontaneously in people's minds. When Victoria came to the throne, +says Mr. Strachey, [Footnote: Lytton Strachey, _Queen Victoria_, +p. 72.] "among the outside public there was a great wave of +enthusiasm. Sentiment and romance were coming into fashion; and the +spectacle of the little girl-queen, innocent, modest, with fair hair +and pink cheeks, driving through her capital, filled the hearts of the +beholders with raptures of affectionate loyalty. What, above all, +struck everybody with overwhelming force was the contrast between +Queen Victoria and her uncles. The nasty old men, debauched and +selfish, pigheaded and ridiculous, with their perpetual burden of +debts, confusions, and disreputabilities--they had vanished like the +snows of winter and here at last, crowned and radiant, was the +spring." + +M. Jean de Pierrefeu [Footnote: Jean de Pierrefeu, _G. Q. G. Trois +ans au Grand Quartier General_, pp 94-95.] saw hero-worship at +first hand, for he was an officer on Joffre's staff at the moment of +that soldier's greatest fame: + +"For two years, the entire world paid an almost divine homage to the +victor of the Marne. The baggage-master literally bent under the +weight of the boxes, of the packages and letters which unknown people +sent him with a frantic testimonial of their admiration. I think that +outside of General Joffre, no commander in the war has been able to +realize a comparable idea of what glory is. They sent him boxes of +candy from all the great confectioners of the world, boxes of +champagne, fine wines of every vintage, fruits, game, ornaments and +utensils, clothes, smoking materials, inkstands, paperweights. Every +territory sent its specialty. The painter sent his picture, the +sculptor his statuette, the dear old lady a comforter or socks, the +shepherd in his hut carved a pipe for his sake. All the manufacturers +of the world who were hostile to Germany shipped their products, +Havana its cigars, Portugal its port wine. I have known a hairdresser +who had nothing better to do than to make a portrait of the General +out of hair belonging to persons who were dear to him; a professional +penman had the same idea, but the features were composed of thousands +of little phrases in tiny characters which sang the praise of the +General. As to letters, he had them in all scripts, from all +countries, written in every dialect, affectionate letters, grateful, +overflowing with love, filled with adoration. They called him Savior +of the World, Father of his Country, Agent of God, Benefactor of +Humanity, etc.... And not only Frenchmen, but Americans, Argentinians, +Australians, etc. etc.... Thousands of little children, without their +parents' knowledge, took pen in hand and wrote to tell him their love: +most of them called him Our Father. And there was poignancy about +their effusions, their adoration, these sighs of deliverance that +escaped from thousands of hearts at the defeat of barbarism. To all +these naif little souls, Joffre seemed like St. George crushing the +dragon. Certainly he incarnated for the conscience of mankind the +victory of good over evil, of light over darkness. + +Lunatics, simpletons, the half-crazy and the crazy turned their +darkened brains toward him as toward reason itself. I have read the +letter of a person living in Sydney, who begged the General to save +him from his enemies; another, a New Zealander, requested him to send +some soldiers to the house of a gentleman who owed him ten pounds and +would not pay. + +Finally, some hundreds of young girls, overcoming the timidity of +their sex, asked for engagements, their families not to know about it; +others wished only to serve him." + +This ideal Joffre was compounded out of the victory won by him, his +staff and his troops, the despair of the war, the personal sorrows, +and the hope of future victory. But beside hero-worship there is the +exorcism of devils. By the same mechanism through which heroes are +incarnated, devils are made. If everything good was to come from +Joffre, Foch, Wilson, or Roosevelt, everything evil originated in the +Kaiser Wilhelm, Lenin and Trotsky. They were as omnipotent for evil as +the heroes were omnipotent for good. To many simple and frightened +minds there was no political reverse, no strike, no obstruction, no +mysterious death or mysterious conflagration anywhere in the world of +which the causes did not wind back to these personal sources of evil. + +3 + +Worldwide concentration of this kind on a symbolic personality is rare +enough to be clearly remarkable, and every author has a weakness for +the striking and irrefutable example. The vivisection of war reveals +such examples, but it does not make them out of nothing. In a more +normal public life, symbolic pictures are no less governant of +behavior, but each symbol is far less inclusive because there are so +many competing ones. Not only is each symbol charged with less feeling +because at most it represents only a part of the population, but even +within that part there is infinitely less suppression of individual +difference. The symbols of public opinion, in times of moderate +security, are subject to check and comparison and argument. They come +and go, coalesce and are forgotten, never organizing perfectly the +emotion of the whole group. There is, after all, just one human +activity left in which whole populations accomplish the union sacree. +It occurs in those middle phases of a war when fear, pugnacity, and +hatred have secured complete dominion of the spirit, either to crush +every other instinct or to enlist it, and before weariness is felt. + +At almost all other times, and even in war when it is deadlocked, a +sufficiently greater range of feelings is aroused to establish +conflict, choice, hesitation, and compromise. The symbolism of public +opinion usually bears, as we shall see, [Footnote: Part V.] the marks +of this balancing of interest. Think, for example, of how rapidly, +after the armistice, the precarious and by no means successfully +established symbol of Allied Unity disappeared, how it was followed +almost immediately by the breakdown of each nation's symbolic picture +of the other: Britain the Defender of Public Law, France watching at +the Frontier of Freedom, America the Crusader. And think then of how +within each nation the symbolic picture of itself frayed out, as party +and class conflict and personal ambition began to stir postponed +issues. And then of how the symbolic pictures of the leaders gave way, +as one by one, Wilson, Clemenceau, Lloyd George, ceased to be the +incarnation of human hope, and became merely the negotiators and +administrators for a disillusioned world. + +Whether we regret this as one of the soft evils of peace or applaud it +as a return to sanity is obviously no matter here. Our first concern +with fictions and symbols is to forget their value to the existing +social order, and to think of them simply as an important part of the +machinery of human communication. Now in any society that is not +completely self-contained in its interests and so small that everyone +can know all about everything that happens, ideas deal with events +that are out of sight and hard to grasp. Miss Sherwin of Gopher +Prairie, [Footnote: See Sinclair Lewis, _Main Street_.] is aware +that a war is raging in France and tries to conceive it. She has never +been to France, and certainly she has never been along what is now the +battlefront. + +Pictures of French and German soldiers she has seen, but it is +impossible for her to imagine three million men. No one, in fact, can +imagine them, and the professionals do not try. They think of them as, +say, two hundred divisions. But Miss Sherwin has no access to the +order of battle maps, and so if she is to think about the war, she +fastens upon Joffre and the Kaiser as if they were engaged in a +personal duel. Perhaps if you could see what she sees with her mind's +eye, the image in its composition might be not unlike an Eighteenth +Century engraving of a great soldier. He stands there boldly unruffled +and more than life size, with a shadowy army of tiny little figures +winding off into the landscape behind. Nor it seems are great men +oblivious to these expectations. M. de Pierrefeu tells of a +photographer's visit to Joffre. The General was in his "middle class +office, before the worktable without papers, where he sat down to +write his signature. Suddenly it was noticed that there were no maps +on the walls. But since according to popular ideas it is not possible +to think of a general without maps, a few were placed in position for +the picture, and removed soon afterwards." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, +p. 99.] + +The only feeling that anyone can have about an event he does not +experience is the feeling aroused by his mental image of that event. +That is why until we know what others think they know, we cannot truly +understand their acts. I have seen a young girl, brought up in a +Pennsylvania mining town, plunged suddenly from entire cheerfulness +into a paroxysm of grief when a gust of wind cracked the kitchen +window-pane. For hours she was inconsolable, and to me incomprehensible. +But when she was able to talk, it transpired that if a window-pane +broke it meant that a close relative had died. She was, therefore, +mourning for her father, who had frightened her into running away +from home. The father was, of course, quite thoroughly alive as a +telegraphic inquiry soon proved. But until the telegram came, the +cracked glass was an authentic message to that girl. Why it was +authentic only a prolonged investigation by a skilled psychiatrist +could show. But even the most casual observer could see that the girl, +enormously upset by her family troubles, had hallucinated a complete +fiction out of one external fact, a remembered superstition, and a +turmoil of remorse, and fear and love for her father. + +Abnormality in these instances is only a matter of degree. When an +Attorney-General, who has been frightened by a bomb exploded on his +doorstep, convinces himself by the reading of revolutionary literature +that a revolution is to happen on the first of May 1920, we recognize +that much the same mechanism is at work. The war, of course, furnished +many examples of this pattern: the casual fact, the creative +imagination, the will to believe, and out of these three elements, a +counterfeit of reality to which there was a violent instinctive +response. For it is clear enough that under certain conditions men +respond as powerfully to fictions as they do to realities, and that in +many cases they help to create the very fictions to which they +respond. Let him cast the first stone who did not believe in the +Russian army that passed through England in August, 1914, did not +accept any tale of atrocities without direct proof, and never saw a +plot, a traitor, or a spy where there was none. Let him cast a stone +who never passed on as the real inside truth what he had heard someone +say who knew no more than he did. + +In all these instances we must note particularly one common factor. It +is the insertion between man and his environment of a pseudo-environment. +To that pseudo-environment his behavior is a response. But because it +_is_ behavior, the consequences, if they are acts, operate not in +the pseudo-environment where the behavior is stimulated, but in the +real environment where action eventuates. If the behavior is not a +practical act, but what we call roughly thought and emotion, it may +be a long time before there is any noticeable break in the texture of +the fictitious world. But when the stimulus of the pseudo-fact results +in action on things or other people, contradiction soon develops. +Then comes the sensation of butting one's head against a stone wall, +of learning by experience, and witnessing Herbert Spencer's tragedy +of the murder of a Beautiful Theory by a Gang of Brutal Facts, the +discomfort in short of a maladjustment. For certainly, at the level of +social life, what is called the adjustment of man to his environment +takes place through the medium of fictions. + +By fictions I do not mean lies. I mean a representation of the +environment which is in lesser or greater degree made by man himself. +The range of fiction extends all the way from complete hallucination +to the scientists' perfectly self-conscious use of a schematic model, +or his decision that for his particular problem accuracy beyond a +certain number of decimal places is not important. A work of fiction +may have almost any degree of fidelity, and so long as the degree of +fidelity can be taken into account, fiction is not misleading. In +fact, human culture is very largely the selection, the rearrangement, +the tracing of patterns upon, and the stylizing of, what William James +called "the random irradiations and resettlements of our +ideas." [Footnote: James, _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. II, p. +638] The alternative to the use of fictions is direct exposure to the +ebb and flow of sensation. That is not a real alternative, for however +refreshing it is to see at times with a perfectly innocent eye, +innocence itself is not wisdom, though a source and corrective of +wisdom. For the real environment is altogether too big, too complex, +and too fleeting for direct acquaintance. We are not equipped to deal +with so much subtlety, so much variety, so many permutations and +combinations. And although we have to act in that environment, we have +to reconstruct it on a simpler model before we can manage with it. To +traverse the world men must have maps of the world. Their persistent +difficulty is to secure maps on which their own need, or someone +else's need, has not sketched in the coast of Bohemia. + +4 + +The analyst of public opinion must begin then, by recognizing the +triangular relationship between the scene of action, the human picture +of that scene, and the human response to that picture working itself +out upon the scene of action. It is like a play suggested to the +actors by their own experience, in which the plot is transacted in the +real lives of the actors, and not merely in their stage parts. The +moving picture often emphasizes with great skill this double drama of +interior motive and external behavior. Two men are quarreling, +ostensibly about some money, but their passion is inexplicable. Then +the picture fades out and what one or the other of the two men sees +with his mind's eye is reenacted. Across the table they were +quarreling about money. In memory they are back in their youth when +the girl jilted him for the other man. The exterior drama is +explained: the hero is not greedy; the hero is in love. + +A scene not so different was played in the United States Senate. At +breakfast on the morning of September 29, 1919, some of the Senators +read a news dispatch in the _Washington Post_ about the landing +of American marines on the Dalmatian coast. The newspaper said: + +FACTS NOW ESTABLISHED + +"The following important facts appear already _established_. The +orders to Rear Admiral Andrews commanding the American naval forces in +the Adriatic, came from the British Admiralty via the War Council and +Rear Admiral Knapps in London. The approval or disapproval of the +American Navy Department was not asked.... + +WITHOUT DANIELS' KNOWLEDGE + +"Mr. Daniels was admittedly placed in a peculiar position when cables +reached here stating that the forces over which he is presumed to have +exclusive control were carrying on what amounted to naval warfare +without his knowledge. It was fully realized that the _British +Admiralty might desire to issue orders to Rear Admiral Andrews_ to +act on behalf of Great Britain and her Allies, because the situation +required sacrifice on the part of some nation if D'Annunzio's +followers were to be held in check. + +"It was further realized that _under the new league of nations plan +foreigners would be in a position to direct American Naval forces in +emergencies_ with or without the consent of the American Navy +Department...." etc. (Italics mine). + +The first Senator to comment is Mr. Knox of Pennsylvania. Indignantly +he demands investigation. In Mr. Brandegee of Connecticut, who spoke +next, indignation has already stimulated credulity. Where Mr. Knox +indignantly wishes to know if the report is true, Mr. Brandegee, a +half a minute later, would like to know what would have happened if +marines had been killed. Mr. Knox, interested in the question, forgets +that he asked for an inquiry, and replies. If American marines had +been killed, it would be war. The mood of the debate is still +conditional. Debate proceeds. Mr. McCormick of Illinois reminds the +Senate that the Wilson administration is prone to the waging of small +unauthorized wars. He repeats Theodore Roosevelt's quip about "waging +peace." More debate. Mr. Brandegee notes that the marines acted "under +orders of a Supreme Council sitting somewhere," but he cannot recall +who represents the United States on that body. The Supreme Council is +unknown to the Constitution of the United States. Therefore Mr. New of +Indiana submits a resolution calling for the facts. + +So far the Senators still recognize vaguely that they are discussing a +rumor. Being lawyers they still remember some of the forms of +evidence. But as red-blooded men they already experience all the +indignation which is appropriate to the fact that American marines +have been ordered into war by a foreign government and without the +consent of Congress. Emotionally they want to believe it, because they +are Republicans fighting the League of Nations. This arouses the +Democratic leader, Mr. Hitchcock of Nebraska. He defends the Supreme +Council: it was acting under the war powers. Peace has not yet been +concluded because the Republicans are delaying it. Therefore the +action was necessary and legal. Both sides now assume that the report +is true, and the conclusions they draw are the conclusions of their +partisanship. Yet this extraordinary assumption is in a debate over a +resolution to investigate the truth of the assumption. It reveals how +difficult it is, even for trained lawyers, to suspend response until +the returns are in. The response is instantaneous. The fiction is +taken for truth because the fiction is badly needed. + +A few days later an official report showed that the marines were not +landed by order of the British Government or of the Supreme Council. +They had not been fighting the Italians. They had been landed at the +request of the Italian Government to protect Italians, and the +American commander had been officially thanked by the Italian +authorities. The marines were not at war with Italy. They had acted +according to an established international practice which had nothing +to do with the League of Nations. + +The scene of action was the Adriatic. The picture of that scene in the +Senators' heads at Washington was furnished, in this case probably +with intent to deceive, by a man who cared nothing about the Adriatic, +but much about defeating the League. To this picture the Senate +responded by a strengthening of its partisan differences over the +League. + +5 + +Whether in this particular case the Senate was above or below its +normal standard, it is not necessary to decide. Nor whether the Senate +compares favorably with the House, or with other parliaments. At the +moment, I should like to think only about the world-wide spectacle of +men acting upon their environment, moved by stimuli from their +pseudo-environments. For when full allowance has been made for +deliberate fraud, political science has still to account for such +facts as two nations attacking one another, each convinced that it is +acting in self-defense, or two classes at war each certain that it +speaks for the common interest. They live, we are likely to say, in +different worlds. More accurately, they live in the same world, but +they think and feel in different ones. + +It is to these special worlds, it is to these private or group, or +class, or provincial, or occupational, or national, or sectarian +artifacts, that the political adjustment of mankind in the Great +Society takes place. Their variety and complication are impossible to +describe. Yet these fictions determine a very great part of men's +political behavior. We must think of perhaps fifty sovereign +parliaments consisting of at least a hundred legislative bodies. With +them belong at least fifty hierarchies of provincial and municipal +assemblies, which with their executive, administrative and legislative +organs, constitute formal authority on earth. But that does not begin +to reveal the complexity of political life. For in each of these +innumerable centers of authority there are parties, and these parties +are themselves hierarchies with their roots in classes, sections, +cliques and clans; and within these are the individual politicians, +each the personal center of a web of connection and memory and fear +and hope. + +Somehow or other, for reasons often necessarily obscure, as the result +of domination or compromise or a logroll, there emerge from these +political bodies commands, which set armies in motion or make peace, +conscript life, tax, exile, imprison, protect property or confiscate +it, encourage one kind of enterprise and discourage another, +facilitate immigration or obstruct it, improve communication or censor +it, establish schools, build navies, proclaim "policies," and +"destiny," raise economic barriers, make property or unmake it, bring +one people under the rule of another, or favor one class as against +another. For each of these decisions some view of the facts is taken +to be conclusive, some view of the circumstances is accepted as the +basis of inference and as the stimulus of feeling. What view of the +facts, and why that one? + +And yet even this does not begin to exhaust the real complexity. The +formal political structure exists in a social environment, where there +are innumerable large and small corporations and institutions, +voluntary and semi-voluntary associations, national, provincial, urban +and neighborhood groupings, which often as not make the decision that +the political body registers. On what are these decisions based? + +"Modern society," says Mr. Chesterton, "is intrinsically insecure +because it is based on the notion that all men will do the same thing +for different reasons.... And as within the head of any convict may be +the hell of a quite solitary crime, so in the house or under the hat +of any suburban clerk may be the limbo of a quite separate philosophy. +The first man may be a complete Materialist and feel his own body as a +horrible machine manufacturing his own mind. He may listen to his +thoughts as to the dull ticking of a clock. The man next door may be a +Christian Scientist and regard his own body as somehow rather less +substantial than his own shadow. He may come almost to regard his own +arms and legs as delusions like moving serpents in the dream of +delirium tremens. The third man in the street may not be a Christian +Scientist but, on the contrary, a Christian. He may live in a fairy +tale as his neighbors would say; a secret but solid fairy tale full of +the faces and presences of unearthly friends. The fourth man may be a +theosophist, and only too probably a vegetarian; and I do not see why +I should not gratify myself with the fancy that the fifth man is a +devil worshiper.... Now whether or not this sort of variety is +valuable, this sort of unity is shaky. To expect that all men for all +time will go on thinking different things, and yet doing the same +things, is a doubtful speculation. It is not founding society on a +communion, or even on a convention, but rather on a coincidence. Four +men may meet under the same lamp post; one to paint it pea green as +part of a great municipal reform; one to read his breviary in the +light of it; one to embrace it with accidental ardour in a fit of +alcoholic enthusiasm; and the last merely because the pea green post +is a conspicuous point of rendezvous with his young lady. But to +expect this to happen night after night is unwise...." [Footnote: G. +K. Chesterton, "The Mad Hatter and the Sane Householder," _Vanity +Fair_, January, 1921, p. 54] + +For the four men at the lamp post substitute the governments, the +parties, the corporations, the societies, the social sets, the trades +and professions, universities, sects, and nationalities of the world. +Think of the legislator voting a statute that will affect distant +peoples, a statesman coming to a decision. Think of the Peace +Conference reconstituting the frontiers of Europe, an ambassador in a +foreign country trying to discern the intentions of his own government +and of the foreign government, a promoter working a concession in a +backward country, an editor demanding a war, a clergyman calling on +the police to regulate amusement, a club lounging-room making up its +mind about a strike, a sewing circle preparing to regulate the +schools, nine judges deciding whether a legislature in Oregon may fix +the working hours of women, a cabinet meeting to decide on the +recognition of a government, a party convention choosing a candidate +and writing a platform, twenty-seven million voters casting their +ballots, an Irishman in Cork thinking about an Irishman in Belfast, a +Third International planning to reconstruct the whole of human +society, a board of directors confronted with a set of their +employees' demands, a boy choosing a career, a merchant estimating +supply and demand for the coming season, a speculator predicting the +course of the market, a banker deciding whether to put credit behind a +new enterprise, the advertiser, the reader of advertisments.... Think +of the different sorts of Americans thinking about their notions of +"The British Empire" or "France" or "Russia" or "Mexico." It is not so +different from Mr. Chesterton's four men at the pea green lamp post. + +6 + +And so before we involve ourselves in the jungle of obscurities about +the innate differences of men, we shall do well to fix our attention +upon the extraordinary differences in what men know of the world. +[Footnote: _Cf_. Wallas, _Our Social Heritage_, pp. 77 _et seq_.] +I do not doubt that there are important biological differences. Since +man is an animal it would be strange if there were not. But as +rational beings it is worse than shallow to generalize at all +about comparative behavior until there is a measurable similarity +between the environments to which behavior is a response. + +The pragmatic value of this idea is that it introduces a much needed +refinement into the ancient controversy about nature and nurture, +innate quality and environment. For the pseudo-environment is a hybrid +compounded of "human nature" and "conditions." To my mind it shows the +uselessness of pontificating about what man is and always will be from +what we observe man to be doing, or about what are the necessary +conditions of society. For we do not know how men would behave in +response to the facts of the Great Society. All that we really know is +how they behave in response to what can fairly be called a most +inadequate picture of the Great Society. No conclusion about man or +the Great Society can honestly be made on evidence like that. + +This, then, will be the clue to our inquiry. We shall assume that what +each man does is based not on direct and certain knowledge, but on +pictures made by himself or given to him. If his atlas tells him that +the world is flat he will not sail near what he believes to be the +edge of our planet for fear of falling off. If his maps include a +fountain of eternal youth, a Ponce de Leon will go in quest of it. If +someone digs up yellow dirt that looks like gold, he will for a time +act exactly as if he had found gold. The way in which the world is +imagined determines at any particular moment what men will do. It does +not determine what they will achieve. It determines their effort, +their feelings, their hopes, not their accomplishments and results. +The very men who most loudly proclaim their "materialism" and their +contempt for "ideologues," the Marxian communists, place their entire +hope on what? On the formation by propaganda of a class-conscious +group. But what is propaganda, if not the effort to alter the picture +to which men respond, to substitute one social pattern for another? +What is class consciousness but a way of realizing the world? National +consciousness but another way? And Professor Giddings' consciousness +of kind, but a process of believing that we recognize among the +multitude certain ones marked as our kind? + +Try to explain social life as the pursuit of pleasure and the +avoidance of pain. You will soon be saying that the hedonist begs the +question, for even supposing that man does pursue these ends, the +crucial problem of why he thinks one course rather than another likely +to produce pleasure, is untouched. Does the guidance of man's +conscience explain? How then does he happen to have the particular +conscience which he has? The theory of economic self-interest? But how +do men come to conceive their interest in one way rather than another? +The desire for security, or prestige, or domination, or what is +vaguely called self-realization? How do men conceive their security, +what do they consider prestige, how do they figure out the means of +domination, or what is the notion of self which they wish to realize? +Pleasure, pain, conscience, acquisition, protection, enhancement, +mastery, are undoubtedly names for some of the ways people act. There +may be instinctive dispositions which work toward such ends. But no +statement of the end, or any description of the tendencies to seek it, +can explain the behavior which results. The very fact that men +theorize at all is proof that their pseudo-environments, their +interior representations of the world, are a determining element in +thought, feeling, and action. For if the connection between reality +and human response were direct and immediate, rather than indirect and +inferred, indecision and failure would be unknown, and (if each of us +fitted as snugly into the world as the child in the womb), Mr. Bernard +Shaw would not have been able to say that except for the first nine +months of its existence no human being manages its affairs as well as +a plant. + +The chief difficulty in adapting the psychoanalytic scheme to +political thought arises in this connection. The Freudians are +concerned with the maladjustment of distinct individuals to other +individuals and to concrete circumstances. They have assumed that if +internal derangements could be straightened out, there would be little +or no confusion about what is the obviously normal relationship. But +public opinion deals with indirect, unseen, and puzzling facts, and +there is nothing obvious about them. The situations to which public +opinions refer are known only as opinions. The psychoanalyst, on the +other hand, almost always assumes that the environment is knowable, +and if not knowable then at least bearable, to any unclouded +intelligence. This assumption of his is the problem of public opinion. +Instead of taking for granted an environment that is readily known, +the social analyst is most concerned in studying how the larger +political environment is conceived, and how it can be conceived more +successfully. The psychoanalyst examines the adjustment to an X, +called by him the environment; the social analyst examines the X, +called by him the pseudo-environment. + +He is, of course, permanently and constantly in debt to the new +psychology, not only because when rightly applied it so greatly helps +people to stand on their own feet, come what may, but because the +study of dreams, fantasy and rationalization has thrown light on how +the pseudo-environment is put together. But he cannot assume as his +criterion either what is called a "normal biological career" +[Footnote: Edward J. Kempf, _Psychopathology_, p. 116.] within +the existing social order, or a career "freed from religious +suppression and dogmatic conventions" outside. [Footnote: _Id_., +p. 151.] What for a sociologist is a normal social career? Or one +freed from suppressions and conventions? Conservative critics do, to +be sure, assume the first, and romantic ones the second. But in +assuming them they are taking the whole world for granted. They are +saying in effect either that society is the sort of thing which +corresponds to their idea of what is normal, or the sort of thing +which corresponds to their idea of what is free. Both ideas are merely +public opinions, and while the psychoanalyst as physician may perhaps +assume them, the sociologist may not take the products of existing +public opinion as criteria by which to study public opinion. + +7 + +The world that we have to deal with politically is out of reach, out +of sight, out of mind. It has to be explored, reported, and imagined. +Man is no Aristotelian god contemplating all existence at one glance. +He is the creature of an evolution who can just about span a +sufficient portion of reality to manage his survival, and snatch what +on the scale of time are but a few moments of insight and happiness. +Yet this same creature has invented ways of seeing what no naked eye +could see, of hearing what no ear could hear, of weighing immense +masses and infinitesimal ones, of counting and separating more items +than he can individually remember. He is learning to see with his mind +vast portions of the world that he could never see, touch, smell, +hear, or remember. Gradually he makes for himself a trustworthy +picture inside his head of the world beyond his reach. + +Those features of the world outside which have to do with the behavior +of other human beings, in so far as that behavior crosses ours, is +dependent upon us, or is interesting to us, we call roughly public +affairs. The pictures inside the heads of these human beings, the +pictures of themselves, of others, of their needs, purposes, and +relationship, are their public opinions. Those pictures which are +acted upon by groups of people, or by individuals acting in the name +of groups, are Public Opinion with capital letters. And so in the +chapters which follow we shall inquire first into some of the reasons +why the picture inside so often misleads men in their dealings with +the world outside. Under this heading we shall consider first the +chief factors which limit their access to the facts. They are the +artificial censorships, the limitations of social contact, the +comparatively meager time available in each day for paying attention +to public affairs, the distortion arising because events have to be +compressed into very short messages, the difficulty of making a small +vocabulary express a complicated world, and finally the fear of facing +those facts which would seem to threaten the established routine of +men's lives. + +The analysis then turns from these more or less external limitations +to the question of how this trickle of messages from the outside is +affected by the stored up images, the preconceptions, and prejudices +which interpret, fill them out, and in their turn powerfully direct +the play of our attention, and our vision itself. From this it +proceeds to examine how in the individual person the limited messages +from outside, formed into a pattern of stereotypes, are identified +with his own interests as he feels and conceives them. In the +succeeding sections it examines how opinions are crystallized into +what is called Public Opinion, how a National Will, a Group Mind, a +Social Purpose, or whatever you choose to call it, is formed. + +The first five parts constitute the descriptive section of the book. +There follows an analysis of the traditional democratic theory of +public opinion. The substance of the argument is that democracy in its +original form never seriously faced the problem which arises because +the pictures inside people's heads do not automatically correspond +with the world outside. And then, because the democratic theory is +under criticism by socialist thinkers, there follows an examination of +the most advanced and coherent of these criticisms, as made by the +English Guild Socialists. My purpose here is to find out whether these +reformers take into account the main difficulties of public opinion. +My conclusion is that they ignore the difficulties, as completely as +did the original democrats, because they, too, assume, and in a much +more complicated civilization, that somehow mysteriously there exists +in the hearts of men a knowledge of the world beyond their reach. + +I argue that representative government, either in what is ordinarily +called politics, or in industry, cannot be worked successfully, no +matter what the basis of election, unless there is an independent, +expert organization for making the unseen facts intelligible to those +who have to make the decisions. I attempt, therefore, to argue that +the serious acceptance of the principle that personal representation +must be supplemented by representation of the unseen facts would alone +permit a satisfactory decentralization, and allow us to escape from +the intolerable and unworkable fiction that each of us must acquire a +competent opinion about all public affairs. It is argued that the +problem of the press is confused because the critics and the +apologists expect the press to realize this fiction, expect it to make +up for all that was not foreseen in the theory of democracy, and that +the readers expect this miracle to be performed at no cost or trouble +to themselves. The newspapers are regarded by democrats as a panacea +for their own defects, whereas analysis of the nature of news and of +the economic basis of journalism seems to show that the newspapers +necessarily and inevitably reflect, and therefore, in greater or +lesser measure, intensify, the defective organization of public +opinion. My conclusion is that public opinions must be organized for +the press if they are to be sound, not by the press as is the case +today. This organization I conceive to be in the first instance the +task of a political science that has won its proper place as +formulator, in advance of real decision, instead of apologist, critic, +or reporter after the decision has been made. I try to indicate that +the perplexities of government and industry are conspiring to give +political science this enormous opportunity to enrich itself and to +serve the public. And, of course, I hope that these pages will help a +few people to realize that opportunity more vividly, and therefore to +pursue it more consciously. + + + + +PART II + +APPROACHES TO THE WORLD OUTSIDE + + +CHAPTER 2. CENSORSHIP AND PRIVACY + " 3. CONTACT AND OPPORTUNITY + " 4. TIME AND ATTENTION + " 5. SPEED, WORDS, AND CLEARNESS + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CENSORSHIP AND PRIVACY + +1 + +The picture of a general presiding over an editorial conference at the +most terrible hour of one of the great battles of history seems more +like a scene from The Chocolate Soldier than a page from life. Yet we +know at first hand from the officer who edited the French communiques +that these conferences were a regular part of the business of war; +that in the worst moment of Verdun, General Joffre and his cabinet met +and argued over the nouns, adjectives, and verbs that were to be +printed in the newspapers the next morning. + +"The evening communique of the twenty-third (February 1916)" says M. +de Pierrefeu, [Footnote: _G. Q. G_., pp. 126-129.] "was edited in +a dramatic atmosphere. M. Berthelot, of the Prime Minister's office, +had just telephoned by order of the minister asking General Pelle to +strengthen the report and to emphasize the proportions of the enemy's +attack. It was necessary to prepare the public for the worst outcome +in case the affair turned into a catastrophe. This anxiety showed +clearly that neither at G. H. Q. nor at the Ministry of War had the +Government found reason for confidence. As M. Berthelot spoke, General +Pelle made notes. He handed me the paper on which he had written the +Government's wishes, together with the order of the day issued by +General von Deimling and found on some prisoners, in which it was +stated that this attack was the supreme offensive to secure peace. +Skilfully used, all this was to demonstrate that Germany was letting +loose a gigantic effort, an effort without precedent, and that from +its success she hoped for the end of the war. The logic of this was +that nobody need be surprised at our withdrawal. When, a half hour +later, I went down with my manuscript, I found gathered together in +Colonel Claudel's office, he being away, the major-general, General +Janin, Colonel Dupont, and Lieutenant-Colonel Renouard. Fearing that I +would not succeed in giving the desired impression, General Pelle had +himself prepared a proposed communique. I read what I had just done. +It was found to be too moderate. General Pelle's, on the other hand, +seemed too alarming. I had purposely omitted von Deimling's order of +the day. To put it into the communique _would be to break with the +formula to which the public was accustomed_, would be to transform +it into a kind of pleading. It would seem to say: 'How do you suppose +we can resist?' There was reason to fear that the public would be +distracted by this change of tone and would believe that everything +was lost. I explained my reasons and suggested giving Deimling's text +to the newspapers in the form of a separate note. + +"Opinion being divided, General Pelle went to ask General de Castelnau +to come and decide finally. The General arrived smiling, quiet and +good humored, said a few pleasant words about this new kind of +literary council of war, and looked at the texts. He chose the simpler +one, gave more weight to the first phrase, inserted the words 'as had +been anticipated,' which supply a reassuring quality, and was flatly +against inserting von Deimling's order, but was for transmitting it to +the press in a special note ... " General Joffre that evening read the +communique carefully and approved it. + +Within a few hours those two or three hundred words would be read all +over the world. They would paint a picture in men's minds of what was +happening on the slopes of Verdun, and in front of that picture people +would take heart or despair. The shopkeeper in Brest, the peasant in +Lorraine, the deputy in the Palais Bourbon, the editor in Amsterdam or +Minneapolis had to be kept in hope, and yet prepared to accept +possible defeat without yielding to panic. They are told, therefore, +that the loss of ground is no surprise to the French Command. They are +taught to regard the affair as serious, but not strange. Now, as a +matter of fact, the French General Staff was not fully prepared for +the German offensive. Supporting trenches had not been dug, +alternative roads had not been built, barbed wire was lacking. But to +confess that would have aroused images in the heads of civilians that +might well have turned a reverse into a disaster. The High Command +could be disappointed, and yet pull itself together; the people at +home and abroad, full of uncertainties, and with none of the +professional man's singleness of purpose, might on the basis of a +complete story have lost sight of the war in a melee of faction and +counter-faction about the competence of the officers. Instead, +therefore, of letting the public act on all the facts which the +generals knew, the authorities presented only certain facts, and these +only in such a way as would be most likely to steady the people. + +In this case the men who arranged the pseudo-environment knew what the +real one was. But a few days later an incident occurred about which +the French Staff did not know the truth. The Germans announced +[Footnote: On February 26, 1916. Pierrefeu, _G. Q. G._, pp. 133 +_et seq_.] that on the previous afternoon they had taken Fort +Douaumont by assault. At French headquarters in Chantilly no one +could understand this news. For on the morning of the twenty-fifth, +after the engagement of the XXth corps, the battle had taken a turn +for the better. Reports from the front said nothing about Douaumont. +But inquiry showed that the German report was true, though no one as +yet knew how the fort had been taken. In the meantime, the German +communique was being flashed around the world, and the French had to +say something. So headquarters explained. "In the midst of total +ignorance at Chantilly about the way the attack had taken place, we +imagined, in the evening communique of the 26th, a plan of the attack +which certainly had a thousand to one chance of being true." The +communique of this imaginary battle read: + +"A bitter struggle is taking place around Fort de Douaumont which is +an advanced post of the old defensive organization of Verdun. The +position taken this morning by the enemy, _after several +unsuccessful assaults that cost him very heavy losses_, has been +reached again and passed by our troops whom the enemy has not been +able to drive back." [Footnote: This is my own translation: the +English translation from London published in the New York Times of +Sunday, Feb. 27, is as follows: + +London, Feb. 26 (1916). A furious struggle has been in progress around +Fort de Douaumont which is an advance element of the old defensive +organization of Verdun fortresses. The position captured this morning +by the enemy after several fruitless assaults which cost him extremely +heavy losses, [Footnote: The French text says "pertes tres elevees." +Thus the English translation exaggerates the original text.] was +reached again and gone beyond by our troops, which all the attempts of +the enemy have not been able to push back."] + +What had actually happened differed from both the French and German +accounts. While changing troops in the line, the position had somehow +been forgotten in a confusion of orders. Only a battery commander and +a few men remained in the fort. Some German soldiers, seeing the door +open, had crawled into the fort, and taken everyone inside prisoner. A +little later the French who were on the slopes of the hill were +horrified at being shot at from the fort. There had been no battle at +Douaumont and no losses. Nor had the French troops advanced beyond it +as the communiques seemed to say. They were beyond it on either side, +to be sure, but the fort was in enemy hands. + +Yet from the communique everyone believed that the fort was half +surrounded. The words did not explicitly say so, but "the press, as +usual, forced the pace." Military writers concluded that the Germans +would soon have to surrender. In a few days they began to ask +themselves why the garrison, since it lacked food, had not yet +surrendered. "It was necessary through the press bureau to request +them to drop the encirclement theme." [Footnote: Pierrefeu, _op. +cit._, pp. 134-5.] + +2 + +The editor of the French communique tells us that as the battle +dragged out, his colleagues and he set out to neutralize the +pertinacity of the Germans by continual insistence on their terrible +losses. It is necessary to remember that at this time, and in fact +until late in 1917, the orthodox view of the war for all the Allied +peoples was that it would be decided by "attrition." Nobody believed +in a war of movement. It was insisted that strategy did not count, or +diplomacy. It was simply a matter of killing Germans. The general +public more or less believed the dogma, but it had constantly to be +reminded of it in face of spectacular German successes. + +"Almost no day passed but the communique.... ascribed to the Germans +with some appearance of justice heavy losses, extremely heavy, spoke +of bloody sacrifices, heaps of corpses, hecatombs. Likewise the +wireless constantly used the statistics of the intelligence bureau at +Verdun, whose chief, Major Cointet, had invented a method of +calculating German losses which obviously produced marvelous results. +Every fortnight the figures increased a hundred thousand or so. These +300,000, 400,000, 500,000 casualties put out, divided into daily, +weekly, monthly losses, repeated in all sorts of ways, produced a +striking effect. Our formulae varied little: 'according to prisoners +the German losses in the course of the attack have been considerable' ... +'it is proved that the losses' ... 'the enemy exhausted by his losses +has not renewed the attack' ... Certain formulae, later abandoned +because they had been overworked, were used each day: 'under +our artillery and machine gun fire' ... 'mowed down by our artillery +and machine gun fire' ... Constant repetition impressed the neutrals +and Germany itself, and helped to create a bloody background in spite +of the denials from Nauen (the German wireless) which tried vainly to +destroy the bad effect of this perpetual repetition." [Footnote: _Op. +cit._, pp. 138-139.] + +The thesis of the French Command, which it wished to establish +publicly by these reports, was formulated as follows for the guidance +of the censors: + +"This offensive engages the active forces of our opponent whose +manpower is declining. We have learned that the class of 1916 is +already at the front. There will remain the 1917 class already being +called up, and the resources of the third category (men above +forty-five, or convalescents). In a few weeks, the German forces +exhausted by this effort, will find themselves confronted with all the +forces of the coalition (ten millions against seven millions)." +[Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. 147.] + +According to M. de Pierrefeu, the French command had converted itself +to this belief. "By an extraordinary aberration of mind, only the +attrition of the enemy was seen; it appeared that our forces were not +subject to attrition. General Nivelle shared these ideas. We saw the +result in 1917." + +We have learned to call this propaganda. A group of men, who can +prevent independent access to the event, arrange the news of it to +suit their purpose. That the purpose was in this case patriotic does +not affect the argument at all. They used their power to make the +Allied publics see affairs as they desired them to be seen. The +casualty figures of Major Cointet which were spread about the world +are of the same order. They were intended to provoke a particular kind +of inference, namely that the war of attrition was going in favor of +the French. But the inference is not drawn in the form of argument. It +results almost automatically from the creation of a mental picture of +endless Germans slaughtered on the hills about Verdun. By putting the +dead Germans in the focus of the picture, and by omitting to mention +the French dead, a very special view of the battle was built up. It +was a view designed to neutralize the effects of German territorial +advances and the impression of power which the persistence of the +offensive was making. It was also a view that tended to make the +public acquiesce in the demoralizing defensive strategy imposed upon +the Allied armies. For the public, accustomed to the idea that war +consists of great strategic movements, flank attacks, encirclements, +and dramatic surrenders, had gradually to forget that picture in favor +of the terrible idea that by matching lives the war would be won. +Through its control over all news from the front, the General Staff +substituted a view of the facts that comported with this strategy. + +The General Staff of an army in the field is so placed that within +wide limits it can control what the public will perceive. It controls +the selection of correspondents who go to the front, controls their +movements at the front, reads and censors their messages from the +front, and operates the wires. The Government behind the army by its +command of cables and passports, mails and custom houses and blockades +increases the control. It emphasizes it by legal power over +publishers, over public meetings, and by its secret service. But in +the case of an army the control is far from perfect. There is always +the enemy's communique, which in these days of wireless cannot be kept +away from neutrals. Above all there is the talk of the soldiers, which +blows back from the front, and is spread about when they are on +leave. [Footnote: For weeks prior to the American attack at St. Mihiel +and in the Argonne-Meuse, everybody in France told everybody else the +deep secret.] An army is an unwieldy thing. And that is why the naval +and diplomatic censorship is almost always much more complete. Fewer +people know what is going on, and their acts are more easily +supervised. + +3 + +Without some form of censorship, propaganda in the strict sense of the +word is impossible. In order to conduct a propaganda there must be +some barrier between the public and the event. Access to the real +environment must be limited, before anyone can create a +pseudo-environment that he thinks wise or desirable. For while people +who have direct access can misconceive what they see, no one else can +decide how they shall misconceive it, unless he can decide where they +shall look, and at what. The military censorship is the simplest form +of barrier, but by no means the most important, because it is known to +exist, and is therefore in certain measure agreed to and discounted. + +At different times and for different subjects some men impose and +other men accept a particular standard of secrecy. The frontier +between what is concealed because publication is not, as we say, +"compatible with the public interest" fades gradually into what is +concealed because it is believed to be none of the public's business. +The notion of what constitutes a person's private affairs is elastic. +Thus the amount of a man's fortune is considered a private affair, and +careful provision is made in the income tax law to keep it as private +as possible. The sale of a piece of land is not private, but the price +may be. Salaries are generally treated as more private than wages, +incomes as more private than inheritances. A person's credit rating is +given only a limited circulation. The profits of big corporations are +more public than those of small firms. Certain kinds of conversation, +between man and wife, lawyer and client, doctor and patient, priest +and communicant, are privileged. Directors' meetings are generally +private. So are many political conferences. Most of what is said at a +cabinet meeting, or by an ambassador to the Secretary of State, or at +private interviews, or dinner tables, is private. Many people regard +the contract between employer and employee as private. There was a +time when the affairs of all corporations were held to be as private +as a man's theology is to-day. There was a time before that when his +theology was held to be as public a matter as the color of his eyes. +But infectious diseases, on the other hand, were once as private as +the processes of a man's digestion. The history of the notion of +privacy would be an entertaining tale. Sometimes the notions violently +conflict, as they did when the bolsheviks published the secret +treaties, or when Mr. Hughes investigated the life insurance +companies, or when somebody's scandal exudes from the pages of Town +Topics to the front pages of Mr. Hearst's newspapers. + +Whether the reasons for privacy are good or bad, the barriers exist. +Privacy is insisted upon at all kinds of places in the area of what is +called public affairs. It is often very illuminating, therefore, to +ask yourself how you got at the facts on which you base your opinion. +Who actually saw, heard, felt, counted, named the thing, about which +you have an opinion? Was it the man who told you, or the man who told +him, or someone still further removed? And how much was he permitted +to see? When he informs you that France thinks this and that, what +part of France did he watch? How was he able to watch it? Where was he +when he watched it? What Frenchmen was he permitted to talk to, what +newspapers did he read, and where did they learn what they say? You +can ask yourself these questions, but you can rarely answer them. They +will remind you, however, of the distance which often separates your +public opinion from the event with which it deals. And the reminder is +itself a protection. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +CONTACT AND OPPORTUNITY + +1 + +While censorship and privacy intercept much information at its source, +a very much larger body of fact never reaches the whole public at all, +or only very slowly. For there are very distinct limits upon the +circulation of ideas. + +A rough estimate of the effort it takes to reach "everybody" can be +had by considering the Government's propaganda during the war. +Remembering that the war had run over two years and a half before +America entered it, that millions upon millions of printed pages had +been circulated and untold speeches had been delivered, let us turn to +Mr. Creel's account of his fight "for the minds of men, for the +conquest of their convictions" in order that "the gospel of +Americanism might be carried to every corner of the globe." +[Footnote: George Creel, _How We Advertised America._] + +Mr. Creel had to assemble machinery which included a Division of News +that issued, he tells us, more than six thousand releases, had to +enlist seventy-five thousand Four Minute Men who delivered at least +seven hundred and fifty-five thousand, one hundred and ninety speeches +to an aggregate of over three hundred million people. Boy scouts +delivered annotated copies of President Wilson's addresses to the +householders of America. Fortnightly periodicals were sent to six +hundred thousand teachers. Two hundred thousand lantern slides were +furnished for illustrated lectures. Fourteen hundred and thirty-eight +different designs were turned out for posters, window cards, newspaper +advertisements, cartoons, seals and buttons. The chambers of commerce, +the churches, fraternal societies, schools, were used as channels of +distribution. Yet Mr. Creel's effort, to which I have not begun to do +justice, did not include Mr. McAdoo's stupendous organization for the +Liberty Loans, nor Mr. Hoover's far reaching propaganda about food, +nor the campaigns of the Red Cross, the Y. M. C. A., Salvation Army, +Knights of Columbus, Jewish Welfare Board, not to mention the +independent work of patriotic societies, like the League to Enforce +Peace, the League of Free Nations Association, the National Security +League, nor the activity of the publicity bureaus of the Allies and of +the submerged nationalities. + +Probably this is the largest and the most intensive effort to carry +quickly a fairly uniform set of ideas to all the people of a nation. +The older proselyting worked more slowly, perhaps more surely, but +never so inclusively. Now if it required such extreme measures to +reach everybody in time of crisis, how open are the more normal +channels to men's minds? The Administration was trying, and while the +war continued it very largely succeeded, I believe, in creating +something that might almost be called one public opinion all over +America. But think of the dogged work, the complicated ingenuity, the +money and the personnel that were required. Nothing like that exists +in time of peace, and as a corollary there are whole sections, there +are vast groups, ghettoes, enclaves and classes that hear only vaguely +about much that is going on. + +They live in grooves, are shut in among their own affairs, barred out +of larger affairs, meet few people not of their own sort, read little. +Travel and trade, the mails, the wires, and radio, railroads, +highways, ships, motor cars, and in the coming generation aeroplanes, +are, of course, of the utmost influence on the circulation of ideas. +Each of these affects the supply and the quality of information and +opinion in a most intricate way. Each is itself affected by technical, +by economic, by political conditions. Every time a government relaxes +the passport ceremonies or the customs inspection, every time a new +railway or a new port is opened, a new shipping line established, +every time rates go up or down, the mails move faster or more slowly, +the cables are uncensored and made less expensive, highways built, or +widened, or improved, the circulation of ideas is influenced. Tariff +schedules and subsidies affect the direction of commercial enterprise, +and therefore the nature of human contracts. And so it may well +happen, as it did for example in the case of Salem, Massachusetts, +that a change in the art of shipbuilding will reduce a whole city from +a center where international influences converge to a genteel +provincial town. All the immediate effects of more rapid transit are +not necessarily good. It would be difficult to say, for example, that +the railroad system of France, so highly centralized upon Paris, has +been an unmixed blessing to the French people. + +It is certainly true that problems arising out of the means of +communication are of the utmost importance, and one of the most +constructive features of the program of the League of Nations has been +the study given to railroad transit and access to the sea. The +monopolizing of cables, [Footnote: Hence the wisdom of taking Yap +seriously.] of ports, fuel stations, mountain passes, canals, straits, +river courses, terminals, market places means a good deal more than +the enrichment of a group of business men, or the prestige of a +government. It means a barrier upon the exchange of news and opinion. +But monopoly is not the only barrier. Cost and available supply are +even greater ones, for if the cost of travelling or trading is +prohibitive, if the demand for facilities exceeds the supply, the +barriers exist even without monopoly. + +2 + +The size of a man's income has considerable effect on his access to +the world beyond his neighborhood. With money he can overcome almost +every tangible obstacle of communication, he can travel, buy books and +periodicals, and bring within the range of his attention almost any +known fact of the world. The income of the individual, and the income +of the community determine the amount of communication that is +possible. But men's ideas determine how that income shall be spent, +and that in turn affects in the long run the amount of income they +will have. Thus also there are limitations, none the less real, +because they are often self-imposed and self-indulgent. + +There are portions of the sovereign people who spend most of their +spare time and spare money on motoring and comparing motor cars, on +bridge-whist and post-mortems, on moving-pictures and potboilers, +talking always to the same people with minute variations on the same +old themes. They cannot really be said to suffer from censorship, or +secrecy, the high cost or the difficulty of communication. They suffer +from anemia, from lack of appetite and curiosity for the human scene. +Theirs is no problem of access to the world outside. Worlds of +interest are waiting for them to explore, and they do not enter. + +They move, as if on a leash, within a fixed radius of acquaintances +according to the law and the gospel of their social set. Among men the +circle of talk in business and at the club and in the smoking car is +wider than the set to which they belong. Among women the social set +and the circle of talk are frequently almost identical. It is in the +social set that ideas derived from reading and lectures and from the +circle of talk converge, are sorted out, accepted, rejected, judged +and sanctioned. There it is finally decided in each phase of a +discussion which authorities and which sources of information are +admissible, and which not. + +Our social set consists of those who figure as people in the phrase +"people are saying"; they are the people whose approval matters most +intimately to us. In big cities among men and women of wide interests +and with the means for moving about, the social set is not so rigidly +defined. But even in big cities, there are quarters and nests of +villages containing self-sufficing social sets. In smaller communities +there may exist a freer circulation, a more genuine fellowship from +after breakfast to before dinner. But few people do not know, +nevertheless, which set they really belong to, and which not. + +Usually the distinguishing mark of a social set is the presumption +that the children may intermarry. To marry outside the set involves, +at the very least, a moment of doubt before the engagement can be +approved. Each social set has a fairly clear picture of its relative +position in the hierarchy of social sets. Between sets at the same +level, association is easy, individuals are quickly accepted, +hospitality is normal and unembarrassed. But in contact between sets +that are "higher" or "lower," there is always reciprocal hesitation, a +faint malaise, and a consciousness of difference. To be sure in a +society like that of the United States, individuals move somewhat +freely out of one set into another, especially where there is no +racial barrier and where economic position changes so rapidly. + +Economic position, however, is not measured by the amount of income. +For in the first generation, at least, it is not income that +determines social standing, but the character of a man's work, and it +may take a generation or two before this fades out of the family +tradition. Thus banking, law, medicine, public utilities, newspapers, +the church, large retailing, brokerage, manufacture, are rated at a +different social value from salesmanship, superintendence, expert +technical work, nursing, school teaching, shop keeping; and those, in +turn, are rated as differently from plumbing, being a chauffeur, +dressmaking, subcontracting, or stenography, as these are from being a +butler, lady's maid, a moving picture operator, or a locomotive +engineer. And yet the financial return does not necessarily coincide +with these gradations. + +3 + +Whatever the tests of admission, the social set when formed is not a +mere economic class, but something which more nearly resembles a +biological clan. Membership is intimately connected with love, +marriage and children, or, to speak more exactly, with the attitudes +and desires that are involved. In the social set, therefore, opinions +encounter the canons of Family Tradition, Respectability, Propriety, +Dignity, Taste and Form, which make up the social set's picture of +itself, a picture assiduously implanted in the children. In this +picture a large space is tacitly given to an authorized version of +what each set is called upon inwardly to accept as the social standing +of the others. The more vulgar press for an outward expression of the +deference due, the others are decently and sensitively silent about +their own knowledge that such deference invisibly exists. But that +knowledge, becoming overt when there is a marriage, a war, or a social +upheaval, is the nexus of a large bundle of dispositions classified by +Trotter [Footnote: W. Trotter, Instincts of the Herd in War and Peace.] +under the general term instinct of the herd. + +Within each social set there are augurs like the van der Luydens and +Mrs. Manson Mingott in "The Age of Innocence," [Footnote: Edith +Wharton, _The Age of Innocence._] who are recognized as the +custodians and the interpreters of its social pattern. You are made, +they say, if the van der Luydens take you up. The invitations to their +functions are the high sign of arrival and status. The elections to +college societies, carefully graded and the gradations universally +accepted, determine who is who in college. The social leaders, +weighted with the ultimate eugenic responsibility, are peculiarly +sensitive. Not only must they be watchfully aware of what makes for +the integrity of their set, but they have to cultivate a special gift +for knowing what other social sets are doing. They act as a kind of +ministry of foreign affairs. Where most of the members of a set live +complacently within the set, regarding it for all practical purposes +as the world, the social leaders must combine an intimate knowledge of +the anatomy of their own set with a persistent sense of its place in +the hierarchy of sets. + +The hierarchy, in fact, is bound together by the social leaders. At +any one level there is something which might almost be called a social +set of the social leaders. But vertically the actual binding together +of society, in so far as it is bound together at all by social +contact, is accomplished by those exceptional people, frequently +suspect, who like Julius Beaufort and Ellen Olenska in "The Age of +Innocence" move in and out. Thus there come to be established personal +channels from one set to another, through which Tarde's laws of +imitation operate. But for large sections of the population there are +no such channels. For them the patented accounts of society and the +moving pictures of high life have to serve. They may develop a social +hierarchy of their own, almost unnoticed, as have the Negroes and the +"foreign element," but among that assimilated mass which always +considers itself the "nation," there is in spite of the great +separateness of sets, a variety of personal contacts through which a +circulation of standards takes place. + +Some of the sets are so placed that they become what Professor Ross +has called "radiant points of conventionality." [Footnote: Ross, +_Social Psychology_, Ch. IX, X, XI.] Thus the social superior is +likely to be imitated by the social inferior, the holder of power is +imitated by subordinates, the more successful by the less successful, +the rich by the poor, the city by the country. But imitation does not +stop at frontiers. The powerful, socially superior, successful, rich, +urban social set is fundamentally international throughout the western +hemisphere, and in many ways London is its center. It counts among its +membership the most influential people in the world, containing as it +does the diplomatic set, high finance, the upper circles of the army +and the navy, some princes of the church, a few great newspaper +proprietors, their wives and mothers and daughters who wield the +scepter of invitation. It is at once a great circle of talk and a real +social set. But its importance comes from the fact that here at last +the distinction between public and private affairs practically +disappears. The private affairs of this set are public matters, and +public matters are its private, often its family affairs. The +confinements of Margot Asquith like the confinements of royalty are, +as the philosophers say, in much the same universe of discourse as a +tariff bill or a parliamentary debate. + +There are large areas of governments in which this social set is not +interested, and in America, at least, it has exercised only a +fluctuating control over the national government. But its power in +foreign affairs is always very great, and in war time its prestige is +enormously enhanced. That is natural enough because these +cosmopolitans have a contact with the outer world that most people do +not possess. They have dined with each other in the capitals, and +their sense of national honor is no mere abstraction; it is a concrete +experience of being snubbed or approved by their friends. To Dr. +Kennicott of Gopher Prairie it matters mighty little what Winston +thinks and a great deal what Ezra Stowbody thinks, but to Mrs. Mingott +with a daughter married to the Earl of Swithin it matters a lot when +she visits her daughter, or entertains Winston himself. Dr. Kennicott +and Mrs. Mingott are both socially sensitive, but Mrs. Mingott is +sensitive to a social set that governs the world, while Dr. +Kennicott's social set governs only in Gopher Prairie. But in matters +that effect the larger relationships of the Great Society, Dr. +Kennicott will often be found holding what he thinks is purely his own +opinion, though, as a matter of fact, it has trickled down to Gopher +Prairie from High Society, transmuted on its passage through the +provincial social sets. + +4 + +It is no part of our inquiry to attempt an account of the social +tissue. We need only fix in mind how big is the part played by the +social set in our spiritual contact with the world, how it tends to +fix what is admissible, and to determine how it shall be judged. +Affairs within its immediate competence each set more or less +determines for itself. Above all it determines the detailed +administration of the judgment. But the judgment itself is formed on +patterns [Footnote: _Cf_. Part III] that may be inherited from +the past, transmitted or imitated from other social sets. The highest +social set consists of those who embody the leadership of the Great +Society. As against almost every other social set where the bulk of +the opinions are first hand only about local affairs, in this Highest +Society the big decisions of war and peace, of social strategy and the +ultimate distribution of political power, are intimate experiences +within a circle of what, potentially at least, are personal +acquaintances. + +Since position and contact play so big a part in determining what can +be seen, heard, read, and experienced, as well as what it is +permissible to see, hear, read, and know, it is no wonder that moral +judgment is so much more common than constructive thought. Yet in +truly effective thinking the prime necessity is to liquidate +judgments, regain an innocent eye, disentangle feelings, be curious +and open-hearted. Man's history being what it is, political opinion on +the scale of the Great Society requires an amount of selfless +equanimity rarely attainable by any one for any length of time. We are +concerned in public affairs, but immersed in our private ones. The +time and attention are limited that we can spare for the labor of not +taking opinions for granted, and we are subject to constant +interruption. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TIME AND ATTENTION + +NATURALLY it is possible to make a rough estimate only of the amount +of attention people give each day to informing themselves about public +affairs. Yet it is interesting that three estimates that I have +examined agree tolerably well, though they were made at different +times, in different places, and by different methods. [Footnote: July, +1900. D. F. Wilcox, _The American Newspaper: A Study in Social +Psychology_, Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social +Science, vol. xvi, p. 56. (The statistical tables are reproduced in +James Edward Rogers, _The American Newspaper_.) + +1916 (?) W. D. Scott, _The Psychology of Advertising_, pp. +226-248. See also Henry Foster Adams, _Advertising and its Mental +Laws_, Ch. IV. + +1920 _Newspaper Reading Habits of College Students_, by Prof. +George Burton Hotchkiss and Richard B. Franken, published by the +Association of National Advertisers, Inc., 15 East 26th Street, New +York City.] + +A questionnaire was sent by Hotchkiss and Franken to 1761 men and +women college students in New York City, and answers came from all but +a few. Scott used a questionnaire on four thousand prominent business +and professional men in Chicago and received replies from twenty-three +hundred. Between seventy and seventy-five percent of all those who +replied to either inquiry thought they spent a quarter of an hour a +day reading newspapers. Only four percent of the Chicago group guessed +at less than this and twenty-five percent guessed at more. Among the +New Yorkers a little over eight percent figured their newspaper +reading at less than fifteen minutes, and seventeen and a half at +more. + +Very few people have an accurate idea of fifteen minutes, so the +figures are not to be taken literally. Moreover, business men, +professional people, and college students are most of them liable to a +curious little bias against appearing to spend too much time over the +newspapers, and perhaps also to a faint suspicion of a desire to be +known as rapid readers. All that the figures can justly be taken to +mean is that over three quarters of those in the selected groups rate +rather low the attention they give to printed news of the outer world. + +These time estimates are fairly well confirmed by a test which is less +subjective. Scott asked his Chicagoans how many papers they read each +day, and was told that + + 14 percent read but one paper + 46 " " two papers + 21 " " three papers + 10 " " four papers + 3 " " five papers + 2 " " six papers + 3 " " all the papers (eight + at the time of this inquiry). + +The two- and three-paper readers are sixty-seven percent, which comes +fairly close to the seventy-one percent in Scott's group who rate +themselves at fifteen minutes a day. The omnivorous readers of from +four to eight papers coincide roughly with the twenty-five percent who +rated themselves at more than fifteen minutes. + +2 + +It is still more difficult to guess how the time is distributed. The +college students were asked to name "the five features which interest +you most." Just under twenty percent voted for "general news," just +under fifteen for editorials, just under twelve for "politics," a +little over eight for finance, not two years after the armistice a +little over six for foreign news, three and a half for local, nearly +three for business, and a quarter of one percent for news about +"labor." A scattering said they were most interested in sports, +special articles, the theatre, advertisements, cartoons, book reviews, +"accuracy," music, "ethical tone," society, brevity, art, stories, +shipping, school news, "current news," print. Disregarding these, +about sixty-seven and a half percent picked as the most interesting +features news and opinion that dealt with public affairs. + +This was a mixed college group. The girls professed greater interest +than the boys in general news, foreign news, local news, politics, +editorials, the theatre, music, art, stories, cartoons, +advertisements, and "ethical tone." The boys on the other hand were +more absorbed in finance, sports, business page, "accuracy" and +"brevity." These discriminations correspond a little too closely with +the ideals of what is cultured and moral, manly and decisive, not to +make one suspect the utter objectivity of the replies. + +Yet they agree fairly well with the replies of Scott's Chicago +business and professional men. They were asked, not what features +interested them most, but why they preferred one newspaper to another. +Nearly seventy-one percent based their conscious preference on local +news (17.8%), or political (15.8%) or financial (11.3%), or foreign +(9.5%), or general (7.2%), or editorials (9%). The other thirty +percent decided on grounds not connected with public affairs. They +ranged from not quite seven who decided for ethical tone, down to one +twentieth of one percent who cared most about humor. + +How do these preferences correspond with the space given by newspapers +to various subjects? Unfortunately there are no data collected on this +point for the newspapers read by the Chicago and New York groups at +the time the questionnaires were made. But there is an interesting +analysis made over twenty years ago by Wilcox. He studied one hundred +and ten newspapers in fourteen large cities, and classified the +subject matter of over nine thousand columns. + +Averaged for the whole country the various newspaper matter was found +to fill: + + { (a) War News 17.9 + { { Foreign 1.2 + { (b) General " 21.8 { Politics 6.4 +I. News 55.3 { { Crime 3.1 + { { Misc. 11.1 + { + { { Business 8.2 + { (c) Special " 15.6 { Sport 5.1 + { Society 2.3 + +II. Illustrations 3.1 + +III. Literature 2.4 + { (a) Editorials 3.9 +IV. Opinion 7.1 { (b) Letters & Exchange 3.2 + +V. Advertisements 32.1 + + +In order to bring this table into a fair comparison, it is necessary +to exclude the space given to advertisements, and recompute the +percentages. For the advertisements occupied only an infinitesimal +part of the conscious preference of the Chicago group or the college +group. I think this is justifiable for our purposes because the press +prints what advertisements it can get, [Footnote: Except those which it +regards as objectionable, and those which, in rare instances, are +crowded out.] whereas the rest of the paper is designed to the taste +of its readers. The table would then read: + + {War News 26.4- + { {Foreign 1.8- + I. News 81.4+{General News 32.0+ {Political 9.4+ + { {Crime 4.6- + { {Misc. 16.3+ + { + { {Business 12.1- + {Special " 23.0- {Sporting 7.5+ + {Society 3.3- + II. Illustrations 4.6- +III. Literature 3.5+ + IV. Opinion 10.5- {Editorials 5.8- + {Letters 4.7+ + + +In this revised table if you add up the items which may be supposed to +deal with public affairs, that is to say war, foreign, political, +miscellaneous, business news, and opinion, you find a total of 76.5% +of the edited space devoted in 1900 to the 70.6% of reasons given by +Chicago business men in 1916 for preferring a particular newspaper, +and to the five features which most interested 67.5% of the New York +College students in 1920. + +This would seem to show that the tastes of business men and college +students in big cities to-day still correspond more or less to the +averaged judgments of newspaper editors in big cities twenty years +ago. Since that time the proportion of features to news has +undoubtedly increased, and so has the circulation and the size of +newspapers. Therefore, if to-day you could secure accurate replies +from more typical groups than college students or business and +professional men, you would expect to find a smaller percentage of +time devoted to public affairs, as well as a smaller percentage of +space. On the other hand you would expect to find that the average man +spends more than the quarter of an hour on his newspaper, and that +while the percentage of space given to public affairs is less than +twenty years ago the net amount is greater. + +No elaborate deductions are to be drawn from these figures. They help +merely to make somewhat more concrete our notions of the effort that +goes day by day into acquiring the data of our opinions. The +newspapers are, of course, not the only means, but they are certainly +the principal ones. Magazines, the public forum, the chautauqua, the +church, political gatherings, trade union meetings, women's clubs, and +news serials in the moving picture houses supplement the press. But +taking it all at the most favorable estimate, the time each day is +small when any of us is directly exposed to information from our +unseen environment. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SPEED, WORDS, AND CLEARNESS + +1 + +The unseen environment is reported to us chiefly by words. These words +are transmitted by wire or radio from the reporters to the editors who +fit them into print. Telegraphy is expensive, and the facilities are +often limited. Press service news is, therefore, usually coded. Thus a +dispatch which reads,-- + +"Washington, D. C. June I.--The United States regards the question of +German shipping seized in this country at the outbreak of hostilities +as a closed incident," + +may pass over the wires in the following form: + +"Washn i. The Uni Stas rgds tq of Ger spg seized in ts cou at t outbk +o hox as a clod incident." [Footnote: Phillip's Code.] + +A news item saying: + +"Berlin, June 1, Chancellor Wirth told the Reichstag to-day in +outlining the Government's program that 'restoration and +reconciliation would be the keynote of the new Government's policy.' +He added that the Cabinet was determined disarmament should be carried +out loyally and that disarmament would not be the occasion of the +imposition of further penalties by the Allies." + +may be cabled in this form: + +"Berlin 1. Chancellor Wirth told t Reichstag tdy in outlining the gvts +pgn tt qn restoration & reconciliation wd b the keynote f new gvts +policy. qj He added ttt cabinet ws dtmd disarmament sd b carried out +loyally & tt disarmament wd n b. the ocan f imposition of further +penalties bi t alis." + +In this second item the substance has been culled from a long speech +in a foreign tongue, translated, coded, and then decoded. The +operators who receive the messages transcribe them as they go along, +and I am told that a good operator can write fifteen thousand or even +more words per eight hour day, with a half an hour out for lunch and +two ten minute periods for rest. + +2 + +A few words must often stand for a whole succession of acts, thoughts, +feelings and consequences. We read: + +"Washington, Dec. 23--A statement charging Japanese military +authorities with deeds more 'frightful and barbarous' than anything +ever alleged to have occurred in Belgium during the war was issued +here to-day by the Korean Commission, based, the Commission said, on +authentic reports received by it from Manchuria." + +Here eyewitnesses, their accuracy unknown, report to the makers of +'authentic reports'; they in turn transmit these to a commission five +thousand miles away. It prepares a statement, probably much too long +for publication, from which a correspondent culls an item of print +three and a half inches long. The meaning has to be telescoped in such +a way as to permit the reader to judge how much weight to give to the +news. + +It is doubtful whether a supreme master of style could pack all the +elements of truth that complete justice would demand into a hundred +word account of what had happened in Korea during the course of +several months. For language is by no means a perfect vehicle of +meanings. Words, like currency, are turned over and over again, to +evoke one set of images to-day, another to-morrow. There is no +certainty whatever that the same word will call out exactly the same +idea in the reader's mind as it did in the reporter's. Theoretically, +if each fact and each relation had a name that was unique, and if +everyone had agreed on the names, it would be possible to communicate +without misunderstanding. In the exact sciences there is an approach +to this ideal, and that is part of the reason why of all forms of +world-wide cooperation, scientific inquiry is the most effective. + +Men command fewer words than they have ideas to express, and language, +as Jean Paul said, is a dictionary of faded metaphors. [Footnote: +Cited by White, _Mechanisms of Character Formation._] The +journalist addressing half a million readers of whom he has only a dim +picture, the speaker whose words are flashed to remote villages and +overseas, cannot hope that a few phrases will carry the whole burden +of their meaning. "The words of Lloyd George, badly understood and +badly transmitted," said M. Briand to the Chamber of Deputies, +[Footnote: Special Cable to _The New York Times,_ May 25, 1921, +by Edwin L, James. ] "seemed to give the Pan-Germanists the idea that +the time had come to start something." A British Prime Minister, +speaking in English to the whole attentive world, speaks his own +meaning in his own words to all kinds of people who will see their +meaning in those words. No matter how rich or subtle--or rather the +more rich and the more subtle that which he has to say, the more his +meaning will suffer as it is sluiced into standard speech and then +distributed again among alien minds. [Footnote: In May of 1921, +relations between England and France were strained by the insurrection +of M. Korfanty in Upper Silesia. The London Correspondence of the +_Manchester Guardian_ (May 20, 1921), contained the following +item: + +"The Franco-English Exchange in Words. + +"In quarters well acquainted with French ways and character I find a +tendency to think that undue sensibility has been shown by our press +and public opinion in the lively and at times intemperate language of +the French press through the present crisis. The point was put to me +by a well-informed neutral observer in the following manner. + +"Words, like money, are tokens of value. They represent meaning, +therefore, and just as money, their representative value goes up and +down. The French word 'etonnant' was used by Bossuet with a terrible +weight of meaning which it has lost to-day. A similar thing can be +observed with the English word 'awful.' Some nations constitutionally +tend to understate, others to overstate. What the British Tommy called +an unhealthy place could only be described by an Italian soldier by +means of a rich vocabulary aided with an exuberant mimicry. Nations +that understate keep their word-currency sound. Nations that overstate +suffer from inflation in their language. + +"Expressions such as 'a distinguished scholar,' 'a clever writer,' +must be translated into French as 'a great savant,' 'an exquisite +master.' It is a mere matter of exchange, just as in France one pound +pays 46 francs, and yet one knows that that does not increase its +value at home. Englishmen reading the French press should endeavour to +work out a mental operation similar to that of the banker who puts +back francs into pounds, and not forget in so doing that while in +normal times the change was 25 it is now 46 on account of the war. For +there is a war fluctuation on word exchanges as well as on money +exchanges. + +"The argument, one hopes, works both ways, and Frenchmen do not fail +to realize that there is as much value behind English reticence as +behind their own exuberance of expression."] + +Millions of those who are watching him can read hardly at all. +Millions more can read the words but cannot understand them. Of those +who can both read and understand, a good three-quarters we may assume +have some part of half an hour a day to spare for the subject. To them +the words so acquired are the cue for a whole train of ideas on which +ultimately a vote of untold consequences may be based. Necessarily the +ideas which we allow the words we read to evoke form the biggest part +of the original data of our opinions. The world is vast, the +situations that concern us are intricate, the messages are few, the +biggest part of opinion must be constructed in the imagination. + +When we use the word "Mexico" what picture does it evoke in a resident +of New York? Likely as not, it is some composite of sand, cactus, oil +wells, greasers, rum-drinking Indians, testy old cavaliers flourishing +whiskers and sovereignty, or perhaps an idyllic peasantry a la Jean +Jacques, assailed by the prospect of smoky industrialism, and fighting +for the Rights of Man. What does the word "Japan" evoke? Is it a vague +horde of slant-eyed yellow men, surrounded by Yellow Perils, picture +brides, fans, Samurai, banzais, art, and cherry blossoms? Or the word +"alien"? According to a group of New England college students, writing +in the year 1920, an alien was the following: [Footnote: _The New +Republic_: December 29, 1920, p. 142. ] + +"A person hostile to this country." +"A person against the government." +"A person who is on the opposite side." +"A native of an unfriendly country." +"A foreigner at war." +"A foreigner who tries to do harm to the country he is in." +"An enemy from a foreign land." +"A person against a country." etc.... + +Yet the word alien is an unusually exact legal term, far more exact +than words like sovereignty, independence, national honor, rights, +defense, aggression, imperialism, capitalism, socialism, about which +we so readily take sides "for" or "against." + +3 + +The power to dissociate superficial analogies, attend to differences +and appreciate variety is lucidity of mind. It is a relative faculty. +Yet the differences in lucidity are extensive, say as between a newly +born infant and a botanist examining a flower. To the infant there is +precious little difference between his own toes, his father's watch, +the lamp on the table, the moon in the sky, and a nice bright yellow +edition of Guy de Maupassant. To many a member of the Union League +Club there is no remarkable difference between a Democrat, a +Socialist, an anarchist, and a burglar, while to a highly +sophisticated anarchist there is a whole universe of difference +between Bakunin, Tolstoi, and Kropotkin. These examples show how +difficult it might be to secure a sound public opinion about de +Maupassant among babies, or about Democrats in the Union League Club. + +A man who merely rides in other people's automobiles may not rise to +finer discrimination than between a Ford, a taxicab, and an +automobile. But let that same man own a car and drive it, let him, as +the psychoanalysts would say, project his libido upon automobiles, and +he will describe a difference in carburetors by looking at the rear +end of a car a city block away. That is why it is often such a relief +when the talk turns from "general topics" to a man's own hobby. It is +like turning from the landscape in the parlor to the ploughed field +outdoors. It is a return to the three dimensional world, after a +sojourn in the painter's portrayal of his own emotional response to +his own inattentive memory of what he imagines he ought to have seen. + +We easily identify, says Ferenczi, two only partially similar things: +[Footnote: Internat. Zeitschr, f. Arztl. Psychoanalyse, 1913. +Translated and republished by Dr. Ernest Jones in S. Ferenczi, +_Contributions to Psychoanalysis_, Ch. VIII, _Stages in the +Development of the Sense of Reality_.] the child more easily than +the adult, the primitive or arrested mind more readily than the +mature. As it first appears in the child, consciousness seems to be an +unmanageable mixture of sensations. The child has no sense of time, +and almost none of space, it reaches for the chandelier with the same +confidence that it reaches for its mother's breast, and at first with +almost the same expectation. Only very gradually does function define +itself. To complete inexperience this is a coherent and +undifferentiated world, in which, as someone has said of a school of +philosophers, all facts are born free and equal. Those facts which +belong together in the world have not yet been separated from those +which happen to lie side by side in the stream of consciousness. + +At first, says Ferenczi, the baby gets some of the things it wants by +crying for them. This is "the period of magical hallucinatory +omnipotence." In its second phase the child points to the things it +wants, and they are given to it. "Omnipotence by the help of magic +gestures." Later, the child learns to talk, asks for what it wishes, +and is partially successful. "The period of magic thoughts and magic +words." Each phase may persist for certain situations, though overlaid +and only visible at times, as for example, in the little harmless +superstitions from which few of us are wholly free. In each phase, +partial success tends to confirm that way of acting, while failure +tends to stimulate the development of another. Many individuals, +parties, and even nations, rarely appear to transcend the magical +organization of experience. But in the more advanced sections of the +most advanced peoples, trial and error after repeated failure has led +to the invention of a new principle. The moon, they learn, is not +moved by baying at it. Crops are not raised from the soil by spring +festivals or Republican majorities, but by sunlight, moisture, seeds, +fertilizer, and cultivation. [Footnote: Ferenczi, being a pathologist, +does not describe this maturer period where experience is organized as +equations, the phase of realism on the basis of science.] + +Allowing for the purely schematic value of Ferenczi's categories of +response, the quality which we note as critical is the power to +discriminate among crude perceptions and vague analogies. This power +has been studied under laboratory conditions. [Footnote: See, for +example, Diagnostische Assoziation Studien, conducted at the +Psychiatric University Clinic in Zurich under the direction of Dr. C. +G. Jung. These tests were carried on principally under the so-called +Krapelin-Aschaffenburg classification. They show reaction time, +classify response to the stimulant word as inner, outer, and clang, +show separate results for the first and second hundred words, for +reaction time and reaction quality when the subject is distracted by +holding an idea in mind, or when he replies while beating time with a +metronome. Some of the results are summarized in Jung, _Analytical +Psychology_, Ch. II, transl. by Dr. Constance E. Long.] The Zurich +Association Studies indicate clearly that slight mental fatigue, an +inner disturbance of attention or an external distraction, tend to +"flatten" the quality of the response. An example of the very "flat" +type is the clang association (cat-hat), a reaction to the sound and +not to the sense of the stimulant word. One test, for example, shows a +9% increase of clang in the second series of a hundred reactions. Now +the clang is almost a repetition, a very primitive form of analogy. + +4 + +If the comparatively simple conditions of a laboratory can so readily +flatten out discrimination, what must be the effect of city life? In +the laboratory the fatigue is slight enough, the distraction rather +trivial. Both are balanced in measure by the subject's interest and +self-consciousness. Yet if the beat of a metronome will depress +intelligence, what do eight or twelve hours of noise, odor, and heat +in a factory, or day upon day among chattering typewriters and +telephone bells and slamming doors, do to the political judgments +formed on the basis of newspapers read in street-cars and subways? Can +anything be heard in the hubbub that does not shriek, or be seen in +the general glare that does not flash like an electric sign? The life +of the city dweller lacks solitude, silence, ease. The nights are +noisy and ablaze. The people of a big city are assaulted by incessant +sound, now violent and jagged, now falling into unfinished rhythms, +but endless and remorseless. Under modern industrialism thought goes +on in a bath of noise. If its discriminations are often flat and +foolish, here at least is some small part of the reason. The sovereign +people determines life and death and happiness under conditions where +experience and experiment alike show thought to be most difficult. +"The intolerable burden of thought" is a burden when the conditions +make it burdensome. It is no burden when the conditions are favorable. +It is as exhilarating to think as it is to dance, and just as natural. + +Every man whose business it is to think knows that he must for part of +the day create about himself a pool of silence. But in that +helter-skelter which we flatter by the name of civilization, the +citizen performs the perilous business of government under the worst +possible conditions. A faint recognition of this truth inspires the +movement for a shorter work day, for longer vacations, for light, air, +order, sunlight and dignity in factories and offices. But if the +intellectual quality of our life is to be improved that is only the +merest beginning. So long as so many jobs are an endless and, for the +worker, an aimless routine, a kind of automatism using one set of +muscles in one monotonous pattern, his whole life will tend towards an +automatism in which nothing is particularly to be distinguished from +anything else unless it is announced with a thunderclap. So long as he +is physically imprisoned in crowds by day and even by night his +attention will flicker and relax. It will not hold fast and define +clearly where he is the victim of all sorts of pother, in a home which +needs to be ventilated of its welter of drudgery, shrieking children, +raucous assertions, indigestible food, bad air, and suffocating +ornament. + +Occasionally perhaps we enter a building which is composed and +spacious; we go to a theatre where modern stagecraft has cut away +distraction, or go to sea, or into a quiet place, and we remember how +cluttered, how capricious, how superfluous and clamorous is the +ordinary urban life of our time. We learn to understand why our addled +minds seize so little with precision, why they are caught up and +tossed about in a kind of tarantella by headlines and catch-words, why +so often they cannot tell things apart or discern identity in apparent +differences. + +5 + +But this external disorder is complicated further by internal. +Experiment shows that the speed, the accuracy, and the intellectual +quality of association is deranged by what we are taught to call +emotional conflicts. Measured in fifths of a second, a series of a +hundred stimuli containing both neutral and hot words may show a +variation as between 5 and 32 or even a total failure to respond at +all. [Footnote: Jung, _Clark Lectures_.] Obviously our public +opinion is in intermittent contact with complexes of all sorts; with +ambition and economic interest, personal animosity, racial prejudice, +class feeling and what not. They distort our reading, our thinking, +our talking and our behavior in a great variety of ways. + +And finally since opinions do not stop at the normal members of +society, since for the purposes of an election, a propaganda, a +following, numbers constitute power, the quality of attention is still +further depressed. The mass of absolutely illiterate, of +feeble-minded, grossly neurotic, undernourished and frustrated +individuals, is very considerable, much more considerable there is +reason to think than we generally suppose. Thus a wide popular appeal +is circulated among persons who are mentally children or barbarians, +people whose lives are a morass of entanglements, people whose +vitality is exhausted, shut-in people, and people whose experience has +comprehended no factor in the problem under discussion. The stream of +public opinion is stopped by them in little eddies of misunderstanding, +where it is discolored with prejudice and far fetched analogy. + +A "broad appeal" takes account of the quality of association, and is +made to those susceptibilities which are widely distributed. A +"narrow" or a "special" appeal is one made to those susceptibilities +which are uncommon. But the same individual may respond with very +different quality to different stimuli, or to the same stimuli at +different times. Human susceptibilities are like an alpine country. +There are isolated peaks, there are extensive but separated plateaus, +and there are deeper strata which are quite continuous for nearly all +mankind. Thus the individuals whose susceptibilities reach the +rarefied atmosphere of those peaks where there exists an exquisitive +difference between Frege and Peano, or between Sassetta's earlier and +later periods, may be good stanch Republicans at another level of +appeal, and when they are starving and afraid, indistinguishable from +any other starving and frightened person. No wonder that the magazines +with the large circulations prefer the face of a pretty girl to any +other trade mark, a face, pretty enough to be alluring, but innocent +enough to be acceptable. For the "psychic level" on which the stimulus +acts determines whether the public is to be potentially a large or a +small one. + +6 + +Thus the environment with which our public opinions deal is refracted +in many ways, by censorship and privacy at the source, by physical and +social barriers at the other end, by scanty attention, by the poverty +of language, by distraction, by unconscious constellations of feeling, +by wear and tear, violence, monotony. These limitations upon our +access to that environment combine with the obscurity and complexity +of the facts themselves to thwart clearness and justice of perception, +to substitute misleading fictions for workable ideas, and to deprive +us of adequate checks upon those who consciously strive to mislead. + + + + +PART III + +STEREOTYPES + +CHAPTER 6. STEREOTYPES + " 7. STEREOTYPES AS DEFENSE + " 8. BLIND SPOTS AND THEIR VALUE + " 9. CODES AND THEIR ENEMIES + " 10. THE DETECTION OF STEREOTYPES + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +STEREOTYPES + +1 + +Each of us lives and works on a small part of the earth's surface, +moves in a small circle, and of these acquaintances knows only a few +intimately. Of any public event that has wide effects we see at best +only a phase and an aspect. This is as true of the eminent insiders +who draft treaties, make laws, and issue orders, as it is of those who +have treaties framed for them, laws promulgated to them, orders given +at them. Inevitably our opinions cover a bigger space, a longer reach +of time, a greater number of things, than we can directly observe. +They have, therefore, to be pieced together out of what others have +reported and what we can imagine. + +Yet even the eyewitness does not bring back a naeve picture of the +scene. [Footnote: _E. g. cf._ Edmond Locard, _L'Enquete Criminelle +et les Methodes Scientifiques._ A great deal of interesting material has +been gathered in late years on the credibility of the witness, which +shows, as an able reviewer of Dr. Locard's book says in _The +Times_ (London) Literary Supplement (August 18, 1921), that +credibility varies as to classes of witnesses and classes of events, +and also as to type of perception. Thus, perceptions of touch, odor, +and taste have low evidential value. Our hearing is defective and +arbitrary when it judges the source and direction of sound, and in +listening to the talk of other people "words which are not heard will +be supplied by the witness in all good faith. He will have a theory of +the purport of the conversation, and will arrange the sounds he heard +to fit it." Even visual perceptions are liable to great error, as in +identification, recognition, judgment of distance, estimates of +numbers, for example, the size of a crowd. In the untrained observer, +the sense of time is highly variable. All these original weaknesses +are complicated by tricks of memory, and the incessant creative +quality of the imagination. _Cf_. also Sherrington, _The Integrative +Action of the Nervous System_, pp. 318-327. + +The late Professor Hugo Muensterberg wrote a popular book on this +subject called _On the Witness Stand_.] For experience seems to +show that he himself brings something to the scene which later he +takes away from it, that oftener than not what he imagines to be the +account of an event is really a transfiguration of it. Few facts in +consciousness seem to be merely given. Most facts in consciousness +seem to be partly made. A report is the joint product of the knower +and known, in which the role of the observer is always selective and +usually creative. The facts we see depend on where we are placed, and +the habits of our eyes. + +An unfamiliar scene is like the baby's world, "one great, blooming, +buzzing confusion." [Footnote: Wm. James, _Principles of +Psychology_, Vol. I, p. 488.] This is the way, says Mr. John Dewey, +[Footnote: John Dewey, _How We Think_, pg 121.] that any new +thing strikes an adult, so far as the thing is really new and strange. +"Foreign languages that we do not understand always seem jibberings, +babblings, in which it is impossible to fix a definite, clear-cut, +individualized group of sounds. The countryman in the crowded street, +the landlubber at sea, the ignoramus in sport at a contest between +experts in a complicated game, are further instances. Put an +inexperienced man in a factory, and at first the work seems to him a +meaningless medley. All strangers of another race proverbially look +alike to the visiting stranger. Only gross differences of size or +color are perceived by an outsider in a flock of sheep, each of which +is perfectly individualized to the shepherd. A diffusive blur and an +indiscriminately shifting suction characterize what we do not +understand. The problem of the acquisition of meaning by things, or +(stated in another way) of forming habits of simple apprehension, is +thus the problem of introducing (1) _definiteness_ and _distinction_ +and (2) _consistency_ or _stability_ of meaning into what is +otherwise vague and wavering." + +But the kind of definiteness and consistency introduced depends upon +who introduces them. In a later passage [Footnote: _op. cit._, p. +133.] Dewey gives an example of how differently an experienced layman +and a chemist might define the word metal. "Smoothness, hardness, +glossiness, and brilliancy, heavy weight for its size ... the +serviceable properties of capacity for being hammered and pulled +without breaking, of being softened by heat and hardened by cold, of +retaining the shape and form given, of resistance to pressure and +decay, would probably be included" in the layman's definition. But the +chemist would likely as not ignore these esthetic and utilitarian +qualities, and define a metal as "any chemical element that enters +into combination with oxygen so as to form a base." + +For the most part we do not first see, and then define, we define +first and then see. In the great blooming, buzzing confusion of the +outer world we pick out what our culture has already defined for us, +and we tend to perceive that which we have picked out in the form +stereotyped for us by our culture. Of the great men who assembled at +Paris to settle the affairs of mankind, how many were there who were +able to see much of the Europe about them, rather than their +commitments about Europe? Could anyone have penetrated the mind of M. +Clemenceau, would he have found there images of the Europe of 1919, or +a great sediment of stereotyped ideas accumulated and hardened in a +long and pugnacious existence? Did he see the Germans of 1919, or the +German type as he had learned to see it since 1871? He saw the type, +and among the reports that came to him from Germany, he took to heart +those reports, and, it seems, those only, which fitted the type that +was in his mind. If a junker blustered, that was an authentic German; +if a labor leader confessed the guilt of the empire, he was not an +authentic German. + +At a Congress of Psychology in Goettingen an interesting experiment was +made with a crowd of presumably trained observers. [Footnote: A. von +Gennep, _La formation des legendes_, pp. 158-159. Cited F. van +Langenhove, _The Growth of a Legend_, pp. 120-122.] + +"Not far from the hall in which the Congress was sitting there was a +public fete with a masked ball. Suddenly the door of the hall was +thrown open and a clown rushed in madly pursued by a negro, revolver +in hand. They stopped in the middle of the room fighting; the clown +fell, the negro leapt upon him, fired, and then both rushed out of the +hall. The whole incident hardly lasted twenty seconds. + +"The President asked those present to write immediately a report since +there was sure to be a judicial inquiry. Forty reports were sent in. +Only one had less than 20% of mistakes in regard to the principal +facts; fourteen had 20% to 40% of mistakes; twelve from 40% to 50%; +thirteen more than 50%. Moreover in twenty-four accounts 10% of the +details were pure inventions and this proportion was exceeded in ten +accounts and diminished in six. Briefly a quarter of the accounts were +false. + +"It goes without saying that the whole scene had been arranged and +even photographed in advance. The ten false reports may then be +relegated to the category of tales and legends; twenty-four accounts +are half legendary, and six have a value approximating to exact +evidence." + +Thus out of forty trained observers writing a responsible account of a +scene that had just happened before their eyes, more than a majority +saw a scene that had not taken place. What then did they see? One +would suppose it was easier to tell what had occurred, than to invent +something which had not occurred. They saw their stereotype of such a +brawl. All of them had in the course of their lives acquired a series +of images of brawls, and these images flickered before their eyes. In +one man these images displaced less than 20% of the actual scene, in +thirteen men more than half. In thirty-four out of the forty observers +the stereotypes preempted at least one-tenth of the scene. + +A distinguished art critic has said [Footnote: Bernard Berenson, +_The Central Italian Painters of the Renaissance_, pp. 60, _et +seq_.] that "what with the almost numberless shapes assumed by an +object. ... What with our insensitiveness and inattention, things +scarcely would have for us features and outlines so determined and +clear that we could recall them at will, but for the stereotyped +shapes art has lent them." The truth is even broader than that, for +the stereotyped shapes lent to the world come not merely from art, in +the sense of painting and sculpture and literature, but from our moral +codes and our social philosophies and our political agitations as +well. Substitute in the following passage of Mr. Berenson's the words +'politics,' 'business,' and 'society,' for the word 'art' and the +sentences will be no less true: "... unless years devoted to the study +of all schools of art have taught us also to see with our own eyes, we +soon fall into the habit of moulding whatever we look at into the +forms borrowed from the one art with which we are acquainted. There is +our standard of artistic reality. Let anyone give us shapes and colors +which we cannot instantly match in our paltry stock of hackneyed forms +and tints, and we shake our heads at his failure to reproduce things +as we know they certainly are, or we accuse him of insincerity." + +Mr. Berenson speaks of our displeasure when a painter "does not +visualize objects exactly as we do," and of the difficulty of +appreciating the art of the Middle Ages because since then "our manner +of visualizing forms has changed in a thousand ways." [Footnote: +_Cf._ also his comment on _Dante's Visual Images, and his Early +Illustrators_ in _The Study and Criticism of Italian Art_ (First +Series), p. 13. "_We_ cannot help dressing Virgil as a Roman, +and giving him a 'classical profile' and 'statuesque carriage,' but +Dante's visual image of Virgil was probably no less mediaeval, no +more based on a critical reconstruction of antiquity, than his entire +conception of the Roman poet. Fourteenth Century illustrators make +Virgil look like a mediaeval scholar, dressed in cap and gown, and +there is no reason why Dante's visual image of him should have been +other than this."] He goes on to show how in regard to the human +figure we have been taught to see what we do see. "Created by +Donatello and Masaccio, and sanctioned by the Humanists, the new canon +of the human figure, the new cast of features ... presented to the +ruling classes of that time the type of human being most likely to win +the day in the combat of human forces... Who had the power to break +through this new standard of vision and, out of the chaos of things, +to select shapes more definitely expressive of reality than those +fixed by men of genius? No one had such power. People had perforce to +see things in that way and in no other, and to see only the shapes +depicted, to love only the ideals presented...." [Footnote: _The +Central Italian Painters_, pp. 66-67.] + +2 + +If we cannot fully understand the acts of other people, until we know +what they think they know, then in order to do justice we have to +appraise not only the information which has been at their disposal, +but the minds through which they have filtered it. For the accepted +types, the current patterns, the standard versions, intercept +information on its way to consciousness. Americanization, for example, +is superficially at least the substitution of American for European +stereotypes. Thus the peasant who might see his landlord as if he were +the lord of the manor, his employer as he saw the local magnate, is +taught by Americanization to see the landlord and employer according +to American standards. This constitutes a change of mind, which is, in +effect, when the inoculation succeeds, a change of vision. His eye +sees differently. One kindly gentlewoman has confessed that the +stereotypes are of such overweening importance, that when hers are not +indulged, she at least is unable to accept the brotherhood of man and +the fatherhood of God: "we are strangely affected by the clothes we +wear. Garments create a mental and social atmosphere. What can be +hoped for the Americanism of a man who insists on employing a London +tailor? One's very food affects his Americanism. What kind of American +consciousness can grow in the atmosphere of sauerkraut and Limburger +cheese? Or what can you expect of the Americanism of the man whose +breath always reeks of garlic?" [Footnote: Cited by Mr. Edward Hale +Bierstadt, _New Republic_, June 1 1921 p. 21.] + +This lady might well have been the patron of a pageant which a friend +of mine once attended. It was called the Melting Pot, and it was given +on the Fourth of July in an automobile town where many foreign-born +workers are employed. In the center of the baseball park at second +base stood a huge wooden and canvas pot. There were flights of steps +up to the rim on two sides. After the audience had settled itself, and +the band had played, a procession came through an opening at one side +of the field. It was made up of men of all the foreign nationalities +employed in the factories. They wore their native costumes, they were +singing their national songs; they danced their folk dances, and +carried the banners of all Europe. The master of ceremonies was the +principal of the grade school dressed as Uncle Sam. He led them to the +pot. He directed them up the steps to the rim, and inside. He called +them out again on the other side. They came, dressed in derby hats, +coats, pants, vest, stiff collar and polka-dot tie, undoubtedly, said +my friend, each with an Eversharp pencil in his pocket, and all +singing the Star-Spangled Banner. + +To the promoters of this pageant, and probably to most of the actors, +it seemed as if they had managed to express the most intimate +difficulty to friendly association between the older peoples of +America and the newer. The contradiction of their stereotypes +interfered with the full recognition of their common humanity. The +people who change their names know this. They mean to change +themselves, and the attitude of strangers toward them. + +There is, of course, some connection between the scene outside and the +mind through which we watch it, just as there are some long-haired men +and short-haired women in radical gatherings. But to the hurried +observer a slight connection is enough. If there are two bobbed heads +and four beards in the audience, it will be a bobbed and bearded +audience to the reporter who knows beforehand that such gatherings are +composed of people with these tastes in the management of their hair. +There is a connection between our vision and the facts, but it is +often a strange connection. A man has rarely looked at a landscape, +let us say, except to examine its possibilities for division into +building lots, but he has seen a number of landscapes hanging in the +parlor. And from them he has learned to think of a landscape as a rosy +sunset, or as a country road with a church steeple and a silver moon. +One day he goes to the country, and for hours he does not see a single +landscape. Then the sun goes down looking rosy. At once he recognizes +a landscape and exclaims that it is beautiful. But two days later, +when he tries to recall what he saw, the odds are that he will +remember chiefly some landscape in a parlor. + +Unless he has been drunk or dreaming or insane he did see a sunset, +but he saw in it, and above all remembers from it, more of what the +oil painting taught him to observe, than what an impressionist +painter, for example, or a cultivated Japanese would have seen and +taken away with him. And the Japanese and the painter in turn will +have seen and remembered more of the form they had learned, unless +they happen to be the very rare people who find fresh sight for +mankind. In untrained observation we pick recognizable signs out of +the environment. The signs stand for ideas, and these ideas we fill +out with our stock of images. We do not so much see this man and that +sunset; rather we notice that the thing is man or sunset, and then see +chiefly what our mind is already full of on those subjects. + +3 + +There is economy in this. For the attempt to see all things freshly +and in detail, rather than as types and generalities, is exhausting, +and among busy affairs practically out of the question. In a circle of +friends, and in relation to close associates or competitors, there is +no shortcut through, and no substitute for, an individualized +understanding. Those whom we love and admire most are the men and +women whose consciousness is peopled thickly with persons rather than +with types, who know us rather than the classification into which we +might fit. For even without phrasing it to ourselves, we feel +intuitively that all classification is in relation to some purpose not +necessarily our own; that between two human beings no association has +final dignity in which each does not take the other as an end in +himself. There is a taint on any contact between two people which does +not affirm as an axiom the personal inviolability of both. + +But modern life is hurried and multifarious, above all physical +distance separates men who are often in vital contact with each other, +such as employer and employee, official and voter. There is neither +time nor opportunity for intimate acquaintance. Instead we notice a +trait which marks a well known type, and fill in the rest of the +picture by means of the stereotypes we carry about in our heads. He is +an agitator. That much we notice, or are told. Well, an agitator is +this sort of person, and so _he_ is this sort of person. He is an +intellectual. He is a plutocrat. He is a foreigner. He is a "South +European." He is from Back Bay. He is a Harvard Man. How different +from the statement: he is a Yale Man. He is a regular fellow. He is a +West Pointer. He is an old army sergeant. He is a Greenwich Villager: +what don't we know about him then, and about her? He is an +international banker. He is from Main Street. + +The subtlest and most pervasive of all influences ere those which +create and maintain the repertory of stereotypes. We are told about +the world before we see it. We imagine most things before we +experience them. And those preconceptions, unless education has made +us acutely aware, govern deeply the whole process of perception. They +mark out certain objects as familiar or strange, emphasizing the +difference, so that the slightly familiar is seen as very familiar, +and the somewhat strange as sharply alien. They are aroused by small +signs, which may vary from a true index to a vague analogy. Aroused, +they flood fresh vision with older images, and project into the world +what has been resurrected in memory. Were there no practical +uniformities in the environment, there would be no economy and only +error in the human habit of accepting foresight for sight. But there +are uniformities sufficiently accurate, and the need of economizing +attention is so inevitable, that the abandonment of all stereotypes +for a wholly innocent approach to experience would impoverish human +life. + +What matters is the character of the stereotypes, and the gullibility +with which we employ them. And these in the end depend upon those +inclusive patterns which constitute our philosophy of life. If in that +philosophy we assume that the world is codified according to a code +which we possess, we are likely to make our reports of what is going +on describe a world run by our code. But if our philosophy tells us +that each man is only a small part of the world, that his intelligence +catches at best only phases and aspects in a coarse net of ideas, +then, when we use our stereotypes, we tend to know that they are only +stereotypes, to hold them lightly, to modify them gladly. We tend, +also, to realize more and more clearly when our ideas started, where +they started, how they came to us, why we accepted them. All useful +history is antiseptic in this fashion. It enables us to know what +fairy tale, what school book, what tradition, what novel, play, +picture, phrase, planted one preconception in this mind, another in +that mind. + +4 + +Those who wish to censor art do not at least underestimate this +influence. They generally misunderstand it, and almost always they are +absurdly bent on preventing other people from discovering anything not +sanctioned by them. But at any rate, like Plato in his argument about +the poets, they feel vaguely that the types acquired through fiction +tend to be imposed on reality. Thus there can be little doubt that the +moving picture is steadily building up imagery which is then evoked by +the words people read in their newspapers. In the whole experience of +the race there has been no aid to visualization comparable to the +cinema. If a Florentine wished to visualize the saints, he could go to +the frescoes in his church, where he might see a vision of saints +standardized for his time by Giotto. If an Athenian wished to +visualize the gods he went to the temples. But the number of objects +which were pictured was not great. And in the East, where the spirit +of the second commandment was widely accepted, the portraiture of +concrete things was even more meager, and for that reason perhaps the +faculty of practical decision was by so much reduced. In the western +world, however, during the last few centuries there has been an +enormous increase in the volume and scope of secular description, the +word picture, the narrative, the illustrated narrative, and finally +the moving picture and, perhaps, the talking picture. + +Photographs have the kind of authority over imagination to-day, which +the printed word had yesterday, and the spoken word before that. They +seem utterly real. They come, we imagine, directly to us without human +meddling, and they are the most effortless food for the mind +conceivable. Any description in words, or even any inert picture, +requires an effort of memory before a picture exists in the mind. But +on the screen the whole process of observing, describing, reporting, +and then imagining, has been accomplished for you. Without more +trouble than is needed to stay awake the result which your imagination +is always aiming at is reeled off on the screen. The shadowy idea +becomes vivid; your hazy notion, let us say, of the Ku Klux Klan, +thanks to Mr. Griffiths, takes vivid shape when you see the Birth of a +Nation. Historically it may be the wrong shape, morally it may be a +pernicious shape, but it is a shape, and I doubt whether anyone who +has seen the film and does not know more about the Ku Klux Klan than +Mr. Griffiths, will ever hear the name again without seeing those +white horsemen. + +5 + +And so when we speak of the mind of a group of people, of the French +mind, the militarist mind, the bolshevik mind, we are liable to +serious confusion unless we agree to separate the instinctive +equipment from the stereotypes, the patterns, and the formulae which +play so decisive a part in building up the mental world to which the +native character is adapted and responds. Failure to make this +distinction accounts for oceans of loose talk about collective minds, +national souls, and race psychology. To be sure a stereotype may be so +consistently and authoritatively transmitted in each generation from +parent to child that it seems almost like a biological fact. In some +respects, we may indeed have become, as Mr. Wallas says, [Footnote: +Graham Wallas, _Our Social Heritage_, p. 17.] biologically +parasitic upon our social heritage. But certainly there is not the +least scientific evidence which would enable anyone to argue that men +are born with the political habits of the country in which they are +born. In so far as political habits are alike in a nation, the first +places to look for an explanation are the nursery, the school, the +church, not in that limbo inhabited by Group Minds and National Souls. +Until you have thoroughly failed to see tradition being handed on from +parents, teachers, priests, and uncles, it is a solecism of the worst +order to ascribe political differences to the germ plasm. + +It is possible to generalize tentatively and with a decent humility +about comparative differences within the same category of education +and experience. Yet even this is a tricky enterprise. For almost no +two experiences are exactly alike, not even of two children in the +same household. The older son never does have the experience of being +the younger. And therefore, until we are able to discount the +difference in nurture, we must withhold judgment about differences of +nature. As well judge the productivity of two soils by comparing their +yield before you know which is in Labrador and which in Iowa, whether +they have been cultivated and enriched, exhausted, or allowed to run +wild. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STEREOTYPES AS DEFENSE + +1 + +THERE is another reason, besides economy of effort, why we so often +hold to our stereotypes when we might pursue a more disinterested +vision. The systems of stereotypes may be the core of our personal +tradition, the defenses of our position in society. + +They are an ordered, more or less consistent picture of the world, to +which our habits, our tastes, our capacities, our comforts and our +hopes have adjusted themselves. They may not be a complete picture of +the world, but they are a picture of a possible world to which we are +adapted. In that world people and things have their well-known places, +and do certain expected things. We feel at home there. We fit in. We +are members. We know the way around. There we find the charm of the +familiar, the normal, the dependable; its grooves and shapes are where +we are accustomed to find them. And though we have abandoned much that +might have tempted us before we creased ourselves into that mould, +once we are firmly in, it fits as snugly as an old shoe. + +No wonder, then, that any disturbance of the stereotypes seems like an +attack upon the foundations of the universe. It is an attack upon the +foundations of _our_ universe, and, where big things are at +stake, we do not readily admit that there is any distinction between +our universe and the universe. A world which turns out to be one in +which those we honor are unworthy, and those we despise are noble, is +nerve-racking. There is anarchy if our order of precedence is not the +only possible one. For if the meek should indeed inherit the earth, if +the first should be last, if those who are without sin alone may cast +a stone, if to Caesar you render only the things that are Caesar's, +then the foundations of self-respect would be shaken for those who +have arranged their lives as if these maxims were not true. A pattern +of stereotypes is not neutral. It is not merely a way of substituting +order for the great blooming, buzzing confusion of reality. It is not +merely a short cut. It is all these things and something more. It is +the guarantee of our self-respect; it is the projection upon the world +of our own sense of our own value, our own position and our own +rights. The stereotypes are, therefore, highly charged with the +feelings that are attached to them. They are the fortress of our +tradition, and behind its defenses we can continue to feel ourselves +safe in the position we occupy. + +2 + +When, for example, in the fourth century B. C., Aristotle wrote his +defense of slavery in the face of increasing skepticism, [Footnote: +Zimmern: _Greek Commonwealth_. See his footnote, p. 383.] the +Athenian slaves were in great part indistinguishable from free +citizens Mr. Zimmern quotes an amusing passage from the Old Oligarch +explaining the good treatment of the slaves. "Suppose it were legal +for a slave to be beaten by a citizen, it would frequently happen that +an Athenian might be mistaken for a slave or an alien and receive a +beating;--since the Athenian people is not better clothed than the +slave or alien, nor in personal appearance is there any superiority." +This absence of distinction would naturally tend to dissolve the +institution. If free men and slaves looked alike, what basis was there +for treating them so differently? It was this confusion which +Aristotle set himself to clear away in the first book of his Politics. +With unerring instinct he understood that to justify slavery he must +teach the Greeks a way of _seeing_ their slaves that comported +with the continuance of slavery. + +So, said Aristotle, there are beings who are slaves by nature. +[Footnote: _Politics_, Bk. 1, Ch. 5.] "He then is by nature +formed a slave, who is fitted to become the chattel of another person, +_and on that account is so_." All this really says is that +whoever happens to be a slave is by nature intended to be one. +Logically the statement is worthless, but in fact it is not a +proposition at all, and logic has nothing to do with it. It is a +stereotype, or rather it is part of a stereotype. The rest follows +almost immediately. After asserting that slaves perceive reason, but +are not endowed with the use of it, Aristotle insists that "it is the +intention of nature to make the bodies of slaves and free men +different from each other, that the one should be robust for their +necessary purposes, but the other erect; useless indeed for such +servile labours, but fit for civil life... It is clear then that some +men are free by nature, and others are slaves. ..." + +If we ask ourselves what is the matter with Aristotle's argument, we +find that he has begun by erecting a great barrier between himself and +the facts. When he had said that those who are slaves are by nature +intended to be slaves, he at one stroke excluded the fatal question +whether those particular men who happened to be slaves were the +particular men intended by nature to be slaves. For that question +would have tainted each case of slavery with doubt. And since the fact +of being a slave was not evidence that a man was destined to be one, +no certain test would have remained. Aristotle, therefore, excluded +entirely that destructive doubt. Those who are slaves are intended to +be slaves. Each slave holder was to look upon his chattels as natural +slaves. When his eye had been trained to see them that way, he was to +note as confirmation of their servile character the fact that they +performed servile work, that they were competent to do servile work, +and that they had the muscles to do servile work. + +This is the perfect stereotype. Its hallmark is that it precedes the +use of reason; is a form of perception, imposes a certain character on +the data of our senses before the data reach the intelligence. The +stereotype is like the lavender window-panes on Beacon Street, like +the door-keeper at a costume ball who judges whether the guest has an +appropriate masquerade. There is nothing so obdurate to education or +to criticism as the stereotype. It stamps itself upon the evidence in +the very act of securing the evidence. That is why the accounts of +returning travellers are often an interesting tale of what the +traveller carried abroad with him on his trip. If he carried chiefly +his appetite, a zeal for tiled bathrooms, a conviction that the +Pullman car is the acme of human comfort, and a belief that it is +proper to tip waiters, taxicab drivers, and barbers, but under no +circumstances station agents and ushers, then his Odyssey will be +replete with good meals and bad meals, bathing adventures, +compartment-train escapades, and voracious demands for money. Or if he +is a more serious soul he may while on tour have found himself at +celebrated spots. Having touched base, and cast one furtive glance at +the monument, he buried his head in Baedeker, read every word through, +and moved on to the next celebrated spot; and thus returned with a +compact and orderly impression of Europe, rated one star, or two. + +In some measure, stimuli from the outside, especially when they are +printed or spoken words, evoke some part of a system of stereotypes, +so that the actual sensation and the preconception occupy +consciousness at the same time. The two are blended, much as if we +looked at red through blue glasses and saw green. If what we are +looking at corresponds successfully with what we anticipated, the +stereotype is reinforced for the future, as it is in a man who knows +in advance that the Japanese are cunning and has the bad luck to run +across two dishonest Japanese. + +If the experience contradicts the stereotype, one of two things +happens. If the man is no longer plastic, or if some powerful interest +makes it highly inconvenient to rearrange his stereotypes, he pooh- +poohs the contradiction as an exception that proves the rule, +discredits the witness, finds a flaw somewhere, and manages to forget +it. But if he is still curious and open-minded, the novelty is taken +into the picture, and allowed to modify it. Sometimes, if the incident +is striking enough, and if he has felt a general discomfort with his +established scheme, he may be shaken to such an extent as to distrust +all accepted ways of looking at life, and to expect that normally a +thing will not be what it is generally supposed to be. In the extreme +case, especially if he is literary, he may develop a passion for +inverting the moral canon by making Judas, Benedict Arnold, or Caesar +Borgia the hero of his tale. + +3 + +The role played by the stereotype can be seen in the German tales +about Belgian snipers. Those tales curiously enough were first refuted +by an organization of German Catholic priests known as Pax. [Footnote: +Fernand van Langenhove, _The Growth of a Legend._ The author is a +Belgian sociologist.] The existence of atrocity stories is itself not +remarkable, nor that the German people gladly believed them. But it is +remarkable that a great conservative body of patriotic Germans should +have set out as early as August 16, 1914, to contradict a collection +of slanders on the enemy, even though such slanders were of the utmost +value in soothing the troubled conscience of their fellow countrymen. +Why should the Jesuit order in particular have set out to destroy a +fiction so important to the fighting morale of Germany? + +I quote from M. van Langenhove's account: + +"Hardly had the German armies entered Belgium when strange rumors +began to circulate. They spread from place to place, they were +reproduced by the press, and they soon permeated the whole of Germany. +It was said that the Belgian people, _instigated by the clergy,_ +had intervened perfidiously in the hostilities; had attacked by +surprise isolated detachments; had indicated to the enemy the +positions occupied by the troops; that old men, and even children, had +been guilty of horrible atrocities upon wounded and defenseless German +soldiers, tearing out their eyes and cutting off fingers, nose or +ears; _that the priests from their pulpits had exhorted the people +to commit these crimes, promising them as a reward the kingdom of +heaven, and had even taken the lead in this barbarity._ + +"Public credulity accepted these stories. The highest powers in the +state welcomed them without hesitation and endorsed them with their +authority... + +"In this way public opinion in Germany was disturbed and a lively +indignation manifested itself, _directed especially against the +priests_ who were held responsible for the barbarities attributed +to the Belgians... By a natural diversion _the anger_ to which +they were a prey _was directed_ by the Germans _against the +Catholic clergy generally._ Protestants allowed the old religious +hatred to be relighted in their minds and delivered themselves to +attacks against Catholics. A new _Kulturkampf_ was let loose. + +"The Catholics did not delay in taking action against this hostile +attitude." (Italics mine) [Footnote: _Op. cit._, pp. 5-7] + +There may have been some sniping. It would be extraordinary if every +angry Belgian had rushed to the library, opened a manual of +international law, and had informed himself whether he had a right to +take potshot at the infernal nuisance tramping through his streets. It +would be no less extraordinary if an army that had never been under +fire, did not regard every bullet that came its way as unauthorized, +because it was inconvenient, and indeed as somehow a violation of the +rules of the Kriegspiel, which then constituted its only experience of +war. One can imagine the more sensitive bent on convincing themselves +that the people to whom they were doing such terrible things must be +terrible people. And so the legend may have been spun until it reached +the censors and propagandists, who, whether they believed it or not, +saw its value, and let it loose on the German civilians. They too were +not altogether sorry to find that the people they were outraging were +sub-human. And, above all, since the legend came from their heroes, +they were not only entitled to believe it, they were unpatriotic if +they did not. + +But where so much is left to the imagination because the scene of +action is lost in the fog of war, there is no check and no control. +The legend of the ferocious Belgian priests soon tapped an old hatred. +For in the minds of most patriotic protestant Germans, especially of +the upper classes, the picture of Bismarck's victories included a long +quarrel with the Roman Catholics. By a process of association, Belgian +priests became priests, and hatred of Belgians a vent for all their +hatreds. These German protestants did what some Americans did when +under the stress of war they created a compound object of hatred out +of the enemy abroad and all their opponents at home. Against this +synthetic enemy, the Hun in Germany and the Hun within the Gate, they +launched all the animosity that was in them. + +The Catholic resistance to the atrocity tales was, of course, +defensive. It was aimed at those particular fictions which aroused +animosity against all Catholics, rather than against Belgian Catholics +alone. The _Informations Pax_, says M. van Langenhove, had only +an ecclesiastical bearing and "confined their attention almost +exclusively to the reprehensible acts attributed to the priests." And +yet one cannot help wondering a little about what was set in motion in +the minds of German Catholics by this revelation of what Bismarck's +empire meant in relation to them; and also whether there was any +obscure connection between that knowledge and the fact that the +prominent German politician who was willing in the armistice to sign +the death warrant of the empire was Erzberger, [Footnote: Since this +was written, Erzberger has been assassinated.] the leader of the +Catholic Centre Party. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BLIND SPOTS AND THEIR VALUE + +1 + +I HAVE been speaking of stereotypes rather than ideals, because the +word ideal is usually reserved for what we consider the good, the true +and the beautiful. Thus it carries the hint that here is something to +be copied or attained. But our repertory of fixed impressions is wider +than that. It contains ideal swindlers, ideal Tammany politicians, +ideal jingoes, ideal agitators, ideal enemies. Our stereotyped world +is not necessarily the world we should like it to be. It is simply the +kind of world we expect it to be. If events correspond there is a +sense of familiarity, and we feel that we are moving with the movement +of events. Our slave must be a slave by nature, if we are Athenians +who wish to have no qualms. If we have told our friends that we do +eighteen holes of golf in 95, we tell them after doing the course in +110, that we are not ourselves to-day. That is to say, we are not +acquainted with the duffer who foozled fifteen strokes. + +Most of us would deal with affairs through a rather haphazard and +shifting assortment of stereotypes, if a comparatively few men in each +generation were not constantly engaged in arranging, standardizing, +and improving them into logical systems, known as the Laws of +Political Economy, the Principles of Politics, and the like. Generally +when we write about culture, tradition, and the group mind, we are +thinking of these systems perfected by men of genius. Now there is no +disputing the necessity of constant study and criticism of these +idealized versions, but the historian of people, the politician, and +the publicity man cannot stop there. For what operates in history is +not the systematic idea as a genius formulated it, but shifting +imitations, replicas, counterfeits, analogies, and distortions in +individual minds. + +Thus Marxism is not necessarily what Karl Marx wrote in Das Kapital, +but whatever it is that all the warring sects believe, who claim to be +the faithful. From the gospels you cannot deduce the history of +Christianity, nor from the Constitution the political history of +America. It is Das Kapital as conceived, the gospels as preached and +the preachment as understood, the Constitution as interpreted and +administered, to which you have to go. For while there is a +reciprocating influence between the standard version and the current +versions, it is these current versions as distributed among men which +affect their behavior. [Footnote: But unfortunately it is ever so much +harder to know this actual culture than it is to summarize and to +comment upon the works of genius. The actual culture exists in people +far too busy to indulge in the strange trade of formulating their +beliefs. They record them only incidentally, and the student rarely +knows how typical are his data. Perhaps the best he can do is to +follow Lord Bryce's suggestion [_Modern Democracies_, Vol. i, p. +156] that he move freely "among all sorts and conditions of men," to +seek out the unbiassed persons in every neighborhood who have skill in +sizing up. "There is a _flair_ which long practise and 'sympathetic +touch' bestow. The trained observer learns how to profit by small +indications, as an old seaman discerns, sooner than the landsman, +the signs of coming storm." There is, in short, a vast amount of +guess work involved, and it is no wonder that scholars, who enjoy +precision, so often confine their attentions to the neater formulations +of other scholars.] + +"The theory of Relativity," says a critic whose eyelids, like the Lady +Lisa's, are a little weary, "promises to develop into a principle as +adequate to universal application as was the theory of Evolution. This +latter theory, from being a technical biological hypothesis, became an +inspiring guide to workers in practically every branch of knowledge: +manners and customs, morals, religions, philosophies, arts, steam +engines, electric tramways--everything had 'evolved.' 'Evolution' +became a very general term; it also became imprecise until, in many +cases, the original, definite meaning of the word was lost, and the +theory it had been evoked to describe was misunderstood. We are hardy +enough to prophesy a similar career and fate for the theory of +Relativity. The technical physical theory, at present imperfectly +understood, will become still more vague and dim. History repeats +itself, and Relativity, like Evolution, after receiving a number of +intelligible but somewhat inaccurate popular expositions in its +scientific aspect, will be launched on a world-conquering career. We +suggest that, by that time, it will probably be called _Relativismus_. +Many of these larger applications will doubtless be justified; some will +be absurd and a considerable number will, we imagine, reduce to truisms. +And the physical theory, the mere seed of this mighty growth, will become +once more the purely technical concern of scientific men." [Footnote: +_The Times_ (London), _Literary Supplement_, June 2, 1921, p. +352. Professor Einstein said when he was in America in 1921 that +people tended to overestimate the influence of his theory, and to +under-estimate its certainty.] + +But for such a world-conquering career an idea must correspond, +however imprecisely, to something. Professor Bury shows for how long a +time the idea of progress remained a speculative toy. "It is not +easy," he writes, [Footnote: J. B. Bury, _The Idea of Progress_, +p. 324.] "for a new idea of the speculative order to penetrate and +inform the general consciousness of a community until it has assumed +some external and concrete embodiment, or is recommended by some +striking material evidence. In the case of Progress both these +conditions were fulfilled (in England) in the period 1820-1850." The +most striking evidence was furnished by the mechanical revolution. +"Men who were born at the beginning of the century had seen, before +they had passed the age of thirty, the rapid development of steam +navigation, the illumination of towns and houses by gas, the opening +of the first railway." In the consciousness of the average householder +miracles like these formed the pattern of his belief in the +perfectibility of the human race. + +Tennyson, who was in philosophical matters a fairly normal person, +tells us that when he went by the first train from Liverpool to +Manchester (1830) he thought that the wheels ran in grooves. Then he +wrote this line: + +"Let the great world spin forever down the ringing grooves of +change." [Footnote: 2 Tennyson, _Memoir by his Son_, Vol. I, p. +195. Cited by Bury, _op. cit_., p. 326.] + +And so a notion more or less applicable to a journey between Liverpool +and Manchester was generalized into a pattern of the universe "for +ever." This pattern, taken up by others, reinforced by dazzling +inventions, imposed an optimistic turn upon the theory of evolution. +That theory, of course, is, as Professor Bury says, neutral between +pessimism and optimism. But it promised continual change, and the +changes visible in the world marked such extraordinary conquests of +nature, that the popular mind made a blend of the two. Evolution first +in Darwin himself, and then more elaborately in Herbert Spencer, was a +"progress towards perfection." + +2 + +The stereotype represented by such words as "progress" and +"perfection" was composed fundamentally of mechanical inventions. And +mechanical it has remained, on the whole, to this day. In America more +than anywhere else, the spectacle of mechanical progress has made so +deep an impression, that it has suffused the whole moral code. An +American will endure almost any insult except the charge that he is +not progressive. Be he of long native ancestry, or a recent immigrant, +the aspect that has always struck his eye is the immense physical +growth of American civilization. That constitutes a fundamental +stereotype through which he views the world: the country village will +become the great metropolis, the modest building a skyscraper, what is +small shall be big; what is slow shall be fast; what is poor shall be +rich; what is few shall be many; whatever is shall be more so. + +Not every American, of course, sees the world this way. Henry Adams +didn't, and William Allen White doesn't. But those men do, who in the +magazines devoted to the religion of success appear as Makers of +America. They mean just about that when they preach evolution, +progress, prosperity, being constructive, the American way of doing +things. It is easy to laugh, but, in fact, they are using a very great +pattern of human endeavor. For one thing it adopts an impersonal +criterion; for another it adopts an earthly criterion; for a third it +is habituating men to think quantitatively. To be sure the ideal +confuses excellence with size, happiness with speed, and human nature +with contraption. Yet the same motives are at work which have ever +actuated any moral code, or ever will. The desire for the biggest, the +fastest, the highest, or if you are a maker of wristwatches or +microscopes the smallest; the love in short of the superlative and the +"peerless," is in essence and possibility a noble passion. + +Certainly the American version of progress has fitted an extraordinary +range of facts in the economic situation and in human nature. It +turned an unusual amount of pugnacity, acquisitiveness, and lust of +power into productive work. Nor has it, until more recently perhaps, +seriously frustrated the active nature of the active members of the +community. They have made a civilization which provides them who made +it with what they feel to be ample satisfaction in work, mating and +play, and the rush of their victory over mountains, wildernesses, +distance, and human competition has even done duty for that part of +religious feeling which is a sense of communion with the purpose of +the universe. The pattern has been a success so nearly perfect in the +sequence of ideals, practice, and results, that any challenge to it is +called un-American. + +And yet, this pattern is a very partial and inadequate way of +representing the world. The habit of thinking about progress as +"development" has meant that many aspects of the environment were +simply neglected. With the stereotype of "progress" before their eyes, +Americans have in the mass seen little that did not accord with that +progress. They saw the expansion of cities, but not the accretion of +slums; they cheered the census statistics, but refused to consider +overcrowding; they pointed with pride to their growth, but would not +see the drift from the land, or the unassimilated immigration. They +expanded industry furiously at reckless cost to their natural +resources; they built up gigantic corporations without arranging for +industrial relations. They grew to be one of the most powerful nations +on earth without preparing their institutions or their minds for the +ending of their isolation. They stumbled into the World War morally +and physically unready, and they stumbled out again, much +disillusioned, but hardly more experienced. + +In the World War the good and the evil influence of the American +stereotype was plainly visible. The idea that the war could be won by +recruiting unlimited armies, raising unlimited credits, building an +unlimited number of ships, producing unlimited munitions, and +concentrating without limit on these alone, fitted the traditional +stereotype, and resulted in something like a physical miracle. +[Footnote: I have in mind the transportation and supply of two million +troops overseas. Prof. Wesley Mitchell points out that the total +production of goods after our entrance into the war did not greatly +increase in volume over that of the year 1916; but that production for +war purposes did increase.] But among those most affected by the +stereotype, there was no place for the consideration of what the +fruits of victory were, or how they were to be attained. Therefore, +aims were ignored, or regarded as automatic, and victory was +conceived, because the stereotype demanded it, as nothing but an +annihilating victory in the field. In peace time you did not ask what +the fastest motor car was for, and in war you did not ask what the +completest victory was for. Yet in Paris the pattern did not fit the +facts. In peace you can go on endlessly supplanting small things with +big ones, and big ones with bigger ones; in war when you have won +absolute victory, you cannot go on to a more absolute victory. You +have to do something on an entirely different pattern. And if you lack +such a pattern, the end of the war is to you what it was to so many +good people, an anticlimax in a dreary and savorless world. + +This marks the point where the stereotype and the facts, that cannot +be ignored, definitely part company. There is always such a point, +because our images of how things behave are simpler and more fixed +than the ebb and flow of affairs. There comes a time, therefore, when +the blind spots come from the edge of vision into the center. Then +unless there are critics who have the courage to sound an alarm, and +leaders capable of understanding the change, and a people tolerant by +habit, the stereotype, instead of economizing effort, and focussing +energy as it did in 1917 and 1918, may frustrate effort and waste +men's energy by blinding them, as it did for those people who cried +for a Carthaginian peace in 1919 and deplored the Treaty of Versailles +in 1921. + +3 + +Uncritically held, the stereotype not only censors out much that needs +to be taken into account, but when the day of reckoning comes, and the +stereotype is shattered, likely as not that which it did wisely take +into account is ship-wrecked with it. That is the punishment assessed +by Mr. Bernard Shaw against Free Trade, Free Contract, Free +Competition, Natural Liberty, Laissez-faire, and Darwinism. A hundred +years ago, when he would surely have been one of the tartest advocates +of these doctrines, he would not have seen them as he sees them +to-day, in the Infidel Half Century, [Footnote: _Back to +Methuselah_. Preface.] to be excuses for "'doing the other fellow +down' with impunity, all interference by a guiding government, all +organization except police organization to protect legalized fraud +against fisticuffs, all attempt to introduce human purpose and design +and forethought into the industrial welter being 'contrary to the laws +of political economy'" He would have seen, then, as one of the +pioneers of the march to the plains of heaven [Footnote: _The +Quintessence of Ibsenism_] that, of the kind of human purpose and +design and forethought to be found in a government like that of Queen +Victoria's uncles, the less the better. He would have seen, not the +strong doing the weak down, but the foolish doing the strong down. He +would have seen purposes, designs and forethoughts at work, +obstructing invention, obstructing enterprise, obstructing what he +would infallibly have recognized as the next move of Creative +Evolution. + +Even now Mr. Shaw is none too eager for the guidance of any guiding +government he knows, but in theory he has turned a full loop against +laissez-faire. Most advanced thinking before the war had made the same +turn against the established notion that if you unloosed everything, +wisdom would bubble up, and establish harmony. Since the war, with its +definite demonstration of guiding governments, assisted by censors, +propagandists, and spies, Roebuck Ramsden and Natural Liberty have +been readmitted to the company of serious thinkers. + +One thing is common to these cycles. There is in each set of +stereotypes a point where effort ceases and things happen of their own +accord, as you would like them to. The progressive stereotype, +powerful to incite work, almost completely obliterates the attempt to +decide what work and why that work. Laissez-faire, a blessed release +from stupid officialdom, assumes that men will move by spontaneous +combustion towards a pre-established harmony. Collectivism, an +antidote to ruthless selfishness, seems, in the Marxian mind, to +suppose an economic determinism towards efficiency and wisdom on the +part of socialist officials. Strong government, imperialism at home +and abroad, at its best deeply conscious of the price of disorder, +relies at last on the notion that all that matters to the governed +will be known by the governors. In each theory there is a spot of +blind automatism. + +That spot covers up some fact, which if it were taken into account, +would check the vital movement that the stereotype provokes. If the +progressive had to ask himself, like the Chinaman in the joke, what he +wanted to do with the time he saved by breaking the record, if the +advocate of laissez-faire had to contemplate not only free and +exuberant energies of men, but what some people call their human +nature, if the collectivist let the center of his attention be +occupied with the problem of how he is to secure his officials, if the +imperialist dared to doubt his own inspiration, you would find more +Hamlet and less Henry the Fifth. For these blind spots keep away +distracting images, which with their attendant emotions, might cause +hesitation and infirmity of purpose. Consequently the stereotype not +only saves time in a busy life and is a defense of our position in +society, but tends to preserve us from all the bewildering effect of +trying to see the world steadily and see it whole. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +CODES AND THEIR ENEMIES + +ANYONE who has stood at the end of a railroad platform waiting for a +friend, will recall what queer people he mistook for him. The shape of +a hat, a slightly characteristic gait, evoked the vivid picture in his +mind's eye. In sleep a tinkle may sound like the pealing of a great +bell; the distant stroke of a hammer like a thunderclap. For our +constellations of imagery will vibrate to a stimulus that is perhaps +but vaguely similar to some aspect of them. They may, in +hallucination, flood the whole consciousness. They may enter very +little into perception, though I am inclined to think that such an +experience is extremely rare and highly sophisticated, as when we gaze +blankly at a familiar word or object, and it gradually ceases to be +familiar. Certainly for the most part, the way we see things is a +combination of what is there and of what we expected to find. The +heavens are not the same to an astronomer as to a pair of lovers; a +page of Kant will start a different train of thought in a Kantian and +in a radical empiricist; the Tahitian belle is a better looking person +to her Tahitian suitor than to the readers of the _National +Geographic Magazine_. + +Expertness in any subject is, in fact, a multiplication of the number +of aspects we are prepared to discover, plus the habit of discounting +our expectations. Where to the ignoramus all things look alike, and +life is just one thing after another, to the specialist things are +highly individual. For a chauffeur, an epicure, a connoisseur, a +member of the President's cabinet, or a professor's wife, there are +evident distinctions and qualities, not at all evident to the casual +person who discusses automobiles, wines, old masters, Republicans, and +college faculties. + +But in our public opinions few can be expert, while life is, as Mr. +Bernard Shaw has made plain, so short. Those who are expert are so on +only a few topics. Even among the expert soldiers, as we learned +during the war, expert cavalrymen were not necessarily brilliant with +trench-warfare and tanks. Indeed, sometimes a little expertness on a +small topic may simply exaggerate our normal human habit of trying to +squeeze into our stereotypes all that can be squeezed, and of casting +into outer darkness that which does not fit. + +Whatever we recognize as familiar we tend, if we are not very careful, +to visualize with the aid of images already in our mind. Thus in the +American view of Progress and Success there is a definite picture of +human nature and of society. It is the kind of human nature and the +kind of society which logically produce the kind of progress that is +regarded as ideal. And then, when we seek to describe or explain +actually successful men, and events that have really happened, we read +back into them the qualities that are presupposed in the stereotypes. + + +These qualities were standardized rather innocently by the older +economists. They set out to describe the social system under which +they lived, and found it too complicated for words. So they +constructed what they sincerely hoped was a simplified diagram, not so +different in principle and in veracity from the parallelogram with +legs and head in a child's drawing of a complicated cow. The scheme +consisted of a capitalist who had diligently saved capital from his +labor, an entrepreneur who conceived a socially useful demand and +organized a factory, a collection of workmen who freely contracted, +take it or leave it, for their labor, a landlord, and a group of +consumers who bought in the cheapest market those goods which by the +ready use of the pleasure-pain calculus they knew would give them the +most pleasure. The model worked. The kind of people, which the model +assumed, living in the sort of world the model assumed, invariably +cooperated harmoniously in the books where the model was described. + +With modification and embroidery, this pure fiction, used by +economists to simplify their thinking, was retailed and popularized +until for large sections of the population it prevailed as the +economic mythology of the day. It supplied a standard version of +capitalist, promoter, worker and consumer in a society that was +naturally more bent on achieving success than on explaining it. The +buildings which rose, and the bank accounts which accumulated, were +evidence that the stereotype of how the thing had been done was +accurate. And those who benefited most by success came to believe they +were the kind of men they were supposed to be. No wonder that the +candid friends of successful men, when they read the official +biography and the obituary, have to restrain themselves from asking +whether this is indeed their friend. + +2 + +To the vanquished and the victims, the official portraiture was, of +course, unrecognizable. For while those who exemplified progress did +not often pause to inquire whether they had arrived according to the +route laid down by the economists, or by some other just as +creditable, the unsuccessful people did inquire. "No one," says +William James, [Footnote: _The Letters of William James,_ Vol. I, +p.65] "sees further into a generalization than his own knowledge of +detail extends." The captains of industry saw in the great trusts +monuments of (their) success; their defeated competitors saw the +monuments of (their) failure. So the captains expounded the economies +and virtues of big business, asked to be let alone, said they were the +agents of prosperity, and the developers of trade. The vanquished +insisted upon the wastes and brutalities of the trusts, and called +loudly upon the Department of Justice to free business from +conspiracies. In the same situation one side saw progress, economy, +and a splendid development; the other, reaction, extravagance, and a +restraint of trade. Volumes of statistics, anecdotes about the real +truth and the inside truth, the deeper and the larger truth, were +published to prove both sides of the argument. + +For when a system of stereotypes is well fixed, our attention is +called to those facts which support it, and diverted from those which +contradict. So perhaps it is because they are attuned to find it, that +kindly people discover so much reason for kindness, malicious people +so much malice. We speak quite accurately of seeing through +rose-colored spectacles, or with a jaundiced eye. If, as Philip +Littell once wrote of a distinguished professor, we see life as +through a class darkly, our stereotypes of what the best people and +the lower classes are like will not be contaminated by understanding. +What is alien will be rejected, what is different will fall upon +unseeing eyes. We do not see what our eyes are not accustomed to take +into account. Sometimes consciously, more often without knowing it, we +are impressed by those facts which fit our philosophy. + +3 + +This philosophy is a more or less organized series of images for +describing the unseen world. But not only for describing it. For +judging it as well. And, therefore, the stereotypes are loaded with +preference, suffused with affection or dislike, attached to fears, +lusts, strong wishes, pride, hope. Whatever invokes the stereotype is +judged with the appropriate sentiment. Except where we deliberately +keep prejudice in suspense, we do not study a man and judge him to be +bad. We see a bad man. We see a dewy morn, a blushing maiden, a +sainted priest, a humorless Englishman, a dangerous Red, a carefree +bohemian, a lazy Hindu, a wily Oriental, a dreaming Slav, a volatile +Irishman, a greedy Jew, a 100% American. In the workaday world that is +often the real judgment, long in advance of the evidence, and it +contains within itself the conclusion which the evidence is pretty +certain to confirm. Neither justice, nor mercy, nor truth, enter into +such a judgment, for the judgment has preceded the evidence. Yet a +people without prejudices, a people with altogether neutral vision, is +so unthinkable in any civilization of which it is useful to think, +that no scheme of education could be based upon that ideal. Prejudice +can be detected, discounted, and refined, but so long as finite men +must compress into a short schooling preparation for dealing with a +vast civilization, they must carry pictures of it around with them, +and have prejudices. The quality of their thinking and doing will +depend on whether those prejudices are friendly, friendly to other +people, to other ideas, whether they evoke love of what is felt to be +positively good, rather than hatred of what is not contained in their +version of the good. + +Morality, good taste and good form first standardize and then +emphasize certain of these underlying prejudices. As we adjust +ourselves to our code, we adjust the facts we see to that code. +Rationally, the facts are neutral to all our views of right and wrong. +Actually, our canons determine greatly what we shall perceive and how. + +For a moral code is a scheme of conduct applied to a number of typical +instances. To behave as the code directs is to serve whatever purpose +the code pursues. It may be God's will, or the king's, individual +salvation in a good, solid, three dimensional paradise, success on +earth, or the service of mankind. In any event the makers of the code +fix upon certain typical situations, and then by some form of +reasoning or intuition, deduce the kind of behavior which would +produce the aim they acknowledge. The rules apply where they apply. + +But in daily living how does a man know whether his predicament is the +one the law-giver had in mind? He is told not to kill. But if his +children are attacked, may he kill to stop a killing? The Ten +Commandments are silent on the point. Therefore, around every code +there is a cloud of interpreters who deduce more specific cases. +Suppose, then, that the doctors of the law decide that he may kill in +self-defense. For the next man the doubt is almost as great; how does +he know that he is defining self-defense correctly, or that he has not +misjudged the facts, imagined the attack, and is really the aggressor? +Perhaps he has provoked the attack. But what is a provocation? Exactly +these confusions infected the minds of most Germans in August, 1914. + +Far more serious in the modern world than any difference of moral code +is the difference in the assumptions about facts to which the code is +applied. Religious, moral and political formulae are nothing like so +far apart as the facts assumed by their votaries. Useful discussion, +then, instead of comparing ideals, reexamines the visions of the +facts. Thus the rule that you should do unto others as you would have +them do unto you rests on the belief that human nature is uniform. Mr. +Bernard Shaw's statement that you should not do unto others what you +would have them do unto you, because their tastes may be different, +rests on the belief that human nature is not uniform. The maxim that +competition is the life of trade consists of a whole tome of +assumptions about economic motives, industrial relations, and the +working of a particular commercial system. The claim that America will +never have a merchant marine, unless it is privately owned and +managed, assumes a certain proved connection between a certain kind of +profit-making and incentive. The justification by the bolshevik +propagandist of the dictatorship, espionage, and the terror, because +"every state is an apparatus of violence" [Footnote: See _Two Years +of Conflict on the Internal Front_, published by the Russian +Socialist Federated Soviet Republic, Moscow, 1920. Translated by +Malcolm W. Davis for the _New York Evening Post_, January 15, +1921.] is an historical judgment, the truth of which is by no means +self-evident to a non-communist. + +At the core of every moral code there is a picture of human nature, a +map of the universe, and a version of history. To human nature (of the +sort conceived), in a universe (of the kind imagined), after a history +(so understood), the rules of the code apply. So far as the facts of +personality, of the environment and of memory are different, by so far +the rules of the code are difficult to apply with success. Now every +moral code has to conceive human psychology, the material world, and +tradition some way or other. But in the codes that are under the +influence of science, the conception is known to be an hypothesis, +whereas in the codes that come unexamined from the past or bubble up +from the caverns of the mind, the conception is not taken as an +hypothesis demanding proof or contradiction, but as a fiction accepted +without question. In the one case, man is humble about his beliefs, +because he knows they are tentative and incomplete; in the other he is +dogmatic, because his belief is a completed myth. The moralist who +submits to the scientific discipline knows that though he does not +know everything, he is in the way of knowing something; the dogmatist, +using a myth, believes himself to share part of the insight of +omniscience, though he lacks the criteria by which to tell truth from +error. For the distinguishing mark of a myth is that truth and error, +fact and fable, report and fantasy, are all on the same plane of +credibility. + +The myth is, then, not necessarily false. It might happen to be wholly +true. It may happen to be partly true. If it has affected human +conduct a long time, it is almost certain to contain much that is +profoundly and importantly true. What a myth never contains is the +critical power to separate its truths from its errors. For that power +comes only by realizing that no human opinion, whatever its supposed +origin, is too exalted for the test of evidence, that every opinion is +only somebody's opinion. And if you ask why the test of evidence is +preferable to any other, there is no answer unless you are willing to +use the test in order to test it. + +4 + +The statement is, I think, susceptible of overwhelming proof, that +moral codes assume a particular view of the facts. Under the term +moral codes I include all kinds: personal, family, economic, +professional, legal, patriotic, international. At the center of each +there is a pattern of stereotypes about psychology, sociology, and +history. The same view of human nature, institutions or tradition +rarely persists through all our codes. Compare, for example, the +economic and the patriotic codes. There is a war supposed to affect +all alike. Two men are partners in business. One enlists, the other +takes a war contract. The soldier sacrifices everything, perhaps even +his life. He is paid a dollar a day, and no one says, no one believes, +that you could make a better soldier out of him by any form of +economic incentive. That motive disappears out of his human nature. +The contractor sacrifices very little, is paid a handsome profit over +costs, and few say or believe that he would produce the munitions if +there were no economic incentive. That may be unfair to him. The point +is that the accepted patriotic code assumes one kind of human nature, +the commercial code another. And the codes are probably founded on +true expectations to this extent, that when a man adopts a certain +code he tends to exhibit the kind of human nature which the code +demands. + +That is one reason why it is so dangerous to generalize about human +nature. A loving father can be a sour boss, an earnest municipal +reformer, and a rapacious jingo abroad. His family life, his business +career, his politics, and his foreign policy rest on totally different +versions of what others are like and of how he should act. These +versions differ by codes in the same person, the codes differ somewhat +among persons in the same social set, differ widely as between social +sets, and between two nations, or two colors, may differ to the point +where there is no common assumption whatever. That is why people +professing the same stock of religious beliefs can go to war. The +element of their belief which determines conduct is that view of the +facts which they assume. + +That is where codes enter so subtly and so pervasively into the making +of public opinion. The orthodox theory holds that a public opinion +constitutes a moral judgment on a group of facts. The theory I am +suggesting is that, in the present state of education, a public +opinion is primarily a moralized and codified version of the facts. I +am arguing that the pattern of stereotypes at the center of our codes +largely determines what group of facts we shall see, and in what light +we shall see them. That is why, with the best will in the world, the +news policy of a journal tends to support its editorial policy; why a +capitalist sees one set of facts, and certain aspects of human nature, +literally sees them; his socialist opponent another set and other +aspects, and why each regards the other as unreasonable or perverse, +when the real difference between them is a difference of perception. +That difference is imposed by the difference between the capitalist +and socialist pattern of stereotypes. "There are no classes in +America," writes an American editor. "The history of all hitherto +existing society is the history of class struggles," says the +Communist Manifesto. If you have the editor's pattern in your mind, +you will see vividly the facts that confirm it, vaguely and +ineffectively those that contradict. If you have the communist +pattern, you will not only look for different things, but you will see +with a totally different emphasis what you and the editor happen to +see in common. + +5 + +And since my moral system rests on my accepted version of the facts, +he who denies either my moral judgments or my version of the facts, is +to me perverse, alien, dangerous. How shall I account for him? The +opponent has always to be explained, and the last explanation that we +ever look for is that he sees a different set of facts. Such an +explanation we avoid, because it saps the very foundation of our own +assurance that we have seen life steadily and seen it whole. It is +only when we are in the habit of recognizing our opinions as a partial +experience seen through our stereotypes that we become truly tolerant +of an opponent. Without that habit, we believe in the absolutism of +our own vision, and consequently in the treacherous character of all +opposition. For while men are willing to admit that there are two +sides to a "question," they do not believe that there are two sides to +what they regard as a "fact." And they never do believe it until after +long critical education, they are fully conscious of how second-hand +and subjective is their apprehension of their social data. + +So where two factions see vividly each its own aspect, and contrive +their own explanations of what they see, it is almost impossible for +them to credit each other with honesty. If the pattern fits their +experience at a crucial point, they no longer look upon it as an +interpretation. They look upon it as "reality." It may not resemble +the reality, except that it culminates in a conclusion which fits a +real experience. I may represent my trip from New York to Boston by a +straight line on a map, just as a man may regard his triumph as the +end of a straight and narrow path. The road by which I actually went +to Boston may have involved many detours, much turning and twisting, +just as his road may have involved much besides pure enterprise, labor +and thrift. But provided I reach Boston and he succeeds, the airline +and the straight path will serve as ready made charts. Only when +somebody tries to follow them, and does not arrive, do we have to +answer objections. If we insist on our charts, and he insists on +rejecting them, we soon tend to regard him as a dangerous fool, and he +to regard us as liars and hypocrites. Thus we gradually paint +portraits of each other. For the opponent presents himself as the man +who says, evil be thou my good. He is an annoyance who does not fit +into the scheme of things. Nevertheless he interferes. And since that +scheme is based in our minds on incontrovertible fact fortified by +irresistible logic, some place has to be found for him in the scheme. +Rarely in politics or industrial disputes is a place made for him by +the simple admission that he has looked upon the same reality and seen +another aspect of it. That would shake the whole scheme. + +Thus to the Italians in Paris Fiume was Italian It was not merely a +city that it would be desirable to include within the Italian kingdom. +It was Italian. They fixed their whole mind upon the Italian majority +within the legal boundaries of the city itself. The American +delegates, having seen more Italians in New York than there are in +Fiume, without regarding New York as Italian, fixed their eyes on +Fiume as a central European port of entry. They saw vividly the +Jugoslavs in the suburbs and the non-Italian hinterland. Some of the +Italians in Paris were therefore in need of a convincing explanation +of the American perversity. They found it in a rumor which started, no +one knows where, that an influential American diplomat was in the +snares of a Jugoslav mistress. She had been seen.... He had been +seen.... At Versailles just off the boulevard. ... The villa with the +large trees. + +This is a rather common way of explaining away opposition. In their +more libelous form such charges rarely reach the printed page, and a +Roosevelt may have to wait years, or a Harding months, before he can +force an issue, and end a whispering campaign that has reached into +every circle of talk. Public men have to endure a fearful amount of +poisonous clubroom, dinner table, boudoir slander, repeated, +elaborated, chuckled over, and regarded as delicious. While this sort +of thing is, I believe, less prevalent in America than in Europe, yet +rare is the American official about whom somebody is not repeating a +scandal. + +Out of the opposition we make villains and conspiracies. If prices go +up unmercifully the profiteers have conspired; if the newspapers +misrepresent the news, there is a capitalist plot; if the rich are too +rich, they have been stealing; if a closely fought election is lost, +the electorate was corrupted; if a statesman does something of which +you disapprove, he has been bought or influenced by some discreditable +person. If workingmen are restless, they are the victims of agitators; +if they are restless over wide areas, there is a conspiracy on foot. +If you do not produce enough aeroplanes, it is the work of spies; if +there is trouble in Ireland, it is German or Bolshevik "gold." And if +you go stark, staring mad looking for plots, you see all strikes, the +Plumb plan, Irish rebellion, Mohammedan unrest, the restoration of +King Constantine, the League of Nations, Mexican disorder, the +movement to reduce armaments, Sunday movies, short skirts, evasion of +the liquor laws, Negro self-assertion, as sub-plots under some +grandiose plot engineered either by Moscow, Rome, the Free Masons, the +Japanese, or the Elders of Zion. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DETECTION OF STEREOTYPES + +1 + +Skilled diplomatists, compelled to talk out loud to the warring +peoples, learned how to use a large repertory of stereotypes. They +were dealing with a precarious alliance of powers, each of which was +maintaining its war unity only by the most careful leadership. The +ordinary soldier and his wife, heroic and selfless beyond anything in +the chronicles of courage, were still not heroic enough to face death +gladly for all the ideas which were said by the foreign offices of +foreign powers to be essential to the future of civilization. There +were ports, and mines, rocky mountain passes, and villages that few +soldiers would willingly have crossed No Man's Land to obtain for +their allies. + +Now it happened in one nation that the war party which was in control +of the foreign office, the high command, and most of the press, had +claims on the territory of several of its neighbors. These claims were +called the Greater Ruritania by the cultivated classes who regarded +Kipling, Treitschke, and Maurice Barres as one hundred percent +Ruritanian. But the grandiose idea aroused no enthusiasm abroad. So +holding this finest flower of the Ruritanian genius, as their poet +laureate said, to their hearts, Ruritania's statesmen went forth to +divide and conquer. They divided the claim into sectors. For each +piece they invoked that stereotype which some one or more of their +allies found it difficult to resist, because that ally had claims for +which it hoped to find approval by the use of this same stereotype. + +The first sector happened to be a mountainous region inhabited by +alien peasants. Ruritania demanded it to complete her natural +geographical frontier. If you fixed your attention long enough on the +ineffable value of what is natural, those alien peasants just +dissolved into fog, and only the slope of the mountains was visible. +The next sector was inhabited by Ruritanians, and on the principle +that no people ought to live under alien rule, they were re-annexed. +Then came a city of considerable commercial importance, not inhabited +by Ruritanians. But until the Eighteenth Century it had been part of +Ruritania, and on the principle of Historic Right it was annexed. +Farther on there was a splendid mineral deposit owned by aliens and +worked by aliens. On the principle of reparation for damage it was +annexed. Beyond this there was a territory inhabited 97% by aliens, +constituting the natural geographical frontier of another nation, +never historically a part of Ruritania. But one of the provinces which +had been federated into Ruritania had formerly traded in those +markets, and the upper class culture was Ruritanian. On the principle +of cultural superiority and the necessity of defending civilization, +the lands were claimed. Finally, there was a port wholly disconnected +from Ruritania geographically, ethnically, economically, historically, +traditionally. It was demanded on the ground that it was needed for +national defense. + +In the treaties that concluded the Great War you can multiply examples +of this kind. Now I do not wish to imply that I think it was possible +to resettle Europe consistently on any one of these principles. I am +certain that it was not. The very use of these principles, so +pretentious and so absolute, meant that the spirit of accommodation +did not prevail and that, therefore, the substance of peace was not +there. For the moment you start to discuss factories, mines, +mountains, or even political authority, as perfect examples of some +eternal principle or other, you are not arguing, you are fighting. +That eternal principle censors out all the objections, isolates the +issue from its background and its context, and sets going in you some +strong emotion, appropriate enough to the principle, highly +inappropriate to the docks, warehouses, and real estate. And having +started in that mood you cannot stop. A real danger exists. To meet it +you have to invoke more absolute principles in order to defend what is +open to attack. Then you have to defend the defenses, erect buffers, +and buffers for the buffers, until the whole affair is so scrambled +that it seems less dangerous to fight than to keep on talking. + +There are certain clues which often help in detecting the false +absolutism of a stereotype. In the case of the Ruritanian propaganda +the principles blanketed each other so rapidly that one could readily +see how the argument had been constructed. The series of +contradictions showed that for each sector that stereotype was +employed which would obliterate all the facts that interfered with the +claim. Contradiction of this sort is often a good clue. + +2 + +Inability to take account of space is another. In the spring of 1918, +for example, large numbers of people, appalled by the withdrawal of +Russia, demanded the "reestablishment of an Eastern Front." The war, +as they had conceived it, was on two fronts, and when one of them +disappeared there was an instant demand that it be recreated. The +unemployed Japanese army was to man the front, substituting for the +Russian. But there was one insuperable obstacle. Between Vladivostok +and the eastern battleline there were five thousand miles of country, +spanned by one broken down railway. Yet those five thousand miles +would not stay in the minds of the enthusiasts. So overwhelming was +their conviction that an eastern front was needed, and so great their +confidence in the valor of the Japanese army, that, mentally, they had +projected that army from Vladivostok to Poland on a magic carpet. In +vain our military authorities argued that to land troops on the rim of +Siberia had as little to do with reaching the Germans, as climbing +from the cellar to the roof of the Woolworth building had to do with +reaching the moon. + +The stereotype in this instance was the war on two fronts. Ever since +men had begun to imagine the Great War they had conceived Germany held +between France and Russia. One generation of strategists, and perhaps +two, had lived with that visual image as the starting point of all +their calculations. For nearly four years every battle-map they saw +had deepened the impression that this was the war. When affairs took a +new turn, it was not easy to see them as they were then. They were +seen through the stereotype, and facts which conflicted with it, such +as the distance from Japan to Poland, were incapable of coming vividly +into consciousness. + +It is interesting to note that the American authorities dealt with the +new facts more realistically than the French. In part, this was +because (previous to 1914) they had no preconception of a war upon the +continent; in part because the Americans, engrossed in the +mobilization of their forces, had a vision of the western front which +was itself a stereotype that excluded from _their_ consciousness +any very vivid sense of the other theatres of war. In the spring of +1918 this American view could not compete with the traditional French +view, because while the Americans believed enormously in their own +powers, the French at that time (before Cantigny and the Second Marne) +had the gravest doubts. The American confidence suffused the American +stereotype, gave it that power to possess consciousness, that +liveliness and sensible pungency, that stimulating effect upon the +will, that emotional interest as an object of desire, that congruity +with the activity in hand, which James notes as characteristic of what +we regard as "real." [Footnote: _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. +II, p. 300.] The French in despair remained fixed on their accepted +image. And when facts, gross geographical facts, would not fit with +the preconception, they were either censored out of mind, or the facts +were themselves stretched out of shape. Thus the difficulty of the +Japanese reaching the Germans five thousand miles away was, in +measure, overcome by bringing the Germans more than half way to meet +them. Between March and June 1918, there was supposed to be a German +army operating in Eastern Siberia. This phantom army consisted of some +German prisoners actually seen, more German prisoners thought about, +and chiefly of the delusion that those five thousand intervening miles +did not really exist. [Footnote: See in this connection Mr. Charles +Grasty's interview with Marshal Foch, _New York Times_, February +26, 1918. "Germany is walking through Russia. America and Japan, who +are in a position to do so, should go to meet her in Siberia." See +also the resolution by Senator King of Utah, June 10, 1918, and Mr. +Taft's statement in the _New York Times_, June 11, 1918, and the +appeal to America on May 5, 1918, by Mr. A. J. Sack, Director of the +Russian Information Bureau: "If Germany were in the Allied place... +she would have 3,000,000 fighting on the East front within a year."] + +3 + +A true conception of space is not a simple matter. If I draw a +straight line on a map between Bombay and Hong Kong and measure the +distance, I have learned nothing whatever about the distance I should +have to cover on a voyage. And even if I measure the actual distance +that I must traverse, I still know very little until I know what ships +are in the service, when they run, how fast they go, whether I can +secure accommodation and afford to pay for it. In practical life space +is a matter of available transportation, not of geometrical planes, as +the old railroad magnate knew when he threatened to make grass grow in +the streets of a city that had offended him. If I am motoring and ask +how far it is to my destination, I curse as an unmitigated booby the +man who tells me it is three miles, and does not mention a six mile +detour. It does me no good to be told that it is three miles if you +walk. I might as well be told it is one mile as the crow flies. I do +not fly like a crow, and I am not walking either. I must know that it +is nine miles for a motor car, and also, if that is the case, that six +of them are ruts and puddles. I call the pedestrian a nuisance who +tells me it is three miles and think evil of the aviator who told me +it was one mile. Both of them are talking about the space they have to +cover, not the space I must cover. + +In the drawing of boundary lines absurd complications have arisen +through failure to conceive the practical geography of a region. Under +some general formula like self-determination statesmen have at various +times drawn lines on maps, which, when surveyed on the spot, ran +through the middle of a factory, down the center of a village street, +diagonally across the nave of a church, or between the kitchen and +bedroom of a peasant's cottage. There have been frontiers in a grazing +country which separated pasture from water, pasture from market, and +in an industrial country, railheads from railroad. On the colored +ethnic map the line was ethnically just, that is to say, just in the +world of that ethnic map. + +4 + +But time, no less than space, fares badly. A common example is that of +the man who tries by making an elaborate will to control his money +long after his death. "It had been the purpose of the first William +James," writes his great-grandson Henry James, [Footnote: _The +Letters of William James_, Vol. I, p. 6.] "to provide that his +children (several of whom were under age when he died) should qualify +themselves by industry and experience to enjoy the large patrimony +which he expected to bequeath to them, and with that in view he left a +will which was a voluminous compound of restraints and instructions. +He showed thereby how great were both his confidence in his own +judgment and his solicitude for the moral welfare of his descendants." +The courts upset the will. For the law in its objection to +perpetuities recognizes that there are distinct limits to the +usefulness of allowing anyone to impose his moral stencil upon an +unknown future. But the desire to impose it is a very human trait, so +human that the law permits it to operate for a limited time after +death. + +The amending clause of any constitution is a good index of the +confidence the authors entertained about the reach of their opinions +in the succeeding generations. There are, I believe, American state +constitutions which are almost incapable of amendment. The men who +made them could have had but little sense of the flux of time: to them +the Here and Now was so brilliantly certain, the Hereafter so vague or +so terrifying, that they had the courage to say how life should run +after they were gone. And then because constitutions are difficult to +amend, zealous people with a taste for mortmain have loved to write on +this imperishable brass all kinds of rules and restrictions that, +given any decent humility about the future, ought to be no more +permanent than an ordinary statute. + +A presumption about time enters widely into our opinions. To one +person an institution which has existed for the whole of his conscious +life is part of the permanent furniture of the universe: to another it +is ephemeral. Geological time is very different from biological time. +Social time is most complex. The statesman has to decide whether to +calculate for the emergency or for the long run. Some decisions have +to be made on the basis of what will happen in the next two hours; +others on what will happen in a week, a month, a season, a decade, +when the children have grown up, or their children's children. An +important part of wisdom is the ability to distinguish the +time-conception that properly belongs to the thing in hand. The person +who uses the wrong time-conception ranges from the dreamer who ignores +the present to the philistine who can see nothing else. A true scale +of values has a very acute sense of relative time. + +Distant time, past and future, has somehow to be conceived. But as +James says, "of the longer duration we have no direct 'realizing' +sense." [Footnote: _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. I, p. 638.] +The longest duration which we immediately feel is what is called the +"specious present." It endures, according to Titchener, for about six +seconds. [Footnote: Cited by Warren, _Human Psychology_, p. 255.] +"All impressions within this period of time are present to us _at +once_. This makes it possible for us to perceive changes and events +as well as stationary objects. The perceptual present is supplemented +by the ideational present. Through the combination of perceptions with +memory images, entire days, months, and even years of the past are +brought together into the present." + +In this ideational present, vividness, as James said, is proportionate +to the number of discriminations we perceive within it. Thus a +vacation in which we were bored with nothing to do passes slowly while +we are in it, but seems very short in memory. Great activity kills +time rapidly, but in memory its duration is long. On the relation +between the amount we discriminate and our time perspective James has +an interesting passage: [Footnote: _Op. cit._, Vol. I, p. 639.] + +"We have every reason to think that creatures may possibly differ +enormously in the amounts of duration which they intuitively feel, and +in the fineness of the events that may fill it. Von Baer has indulged +in some interesting computations of the effect of such differences in +changing the aspect of Nature. Suppose we were able, within the length +of a second, to note 10,000 events distinctly, instead of barely 10 as +now; [Footnote: In the moving picture this effect is admirably produced +by the ultra-rapid camera.] if our life were then destined to hold the +same number of impressions, it might be 1000 times as short. We should +live less than a month, and personally know nothing of the change of +seasons. If born in winter, we should believe in summer as we now +believe in the heats of the carboniferous era. The motions of organic +beings would be so slow to our senses as to be inferred, not seen. The +sun would stand still in the sky, the moon be almost free from change, +and so on. But now reverse the hypothesis and suppose a being to get +only one 1000th part of the sensations we get in a given time, and +consequently to live 1000 times as long. Winters and summers will be +to him like quarters of an hour. Mushrooms and the swifter growing +plants will shoot into being so rapidly as to appear instantaneous +creations; annual shrubs will rise and fall from the earth like +restless boiling water springs; the motions of animals will be as +invisible as are to us the movements of bullets and cannon-balls; the +sun will scour through the sky like a meteor, leaving a fiery trail +behind him, etc." + +5 + +In his Outline of History Mr. Wells has made a gallant effort to +visualize "the true proportions of historical to geological time" +[Footnote: 1 Vol. II, p. 605. See also James Harvey Robinson, _The +New History,_ p. 239.] On a scale which represents the time from +Columbus to ourselves by three inches of space, the reader would have +to walk 55 feet to see the date of the painters of the Altamara caves, +550 feet to see the earlier Neanderthalers, a mile or so to the last +of the dinosaurs. More or less precise chronology does not begin until +after 1000 B.C., and at that time "Sargon I of the Akkadian-Sumerian +Empire was a remote memory,... more remote than is Constantine the +Great from the world of the present day.... Hammurabi had been dead a +thousand years... Stonehedge in England was already a thousand years +old." + +Mr. Wells was writing with a purpose. "In the brief period of ten +thousand years these units (into which men have combined) have grown +from the small family tribe of the early neolithic culture to the vast +united realms--vast yet still too small and partial--of the present +time." Mr. Wells hoped by changing the time perspective on our present +problems to change the moral perspective. Yet the astronomical measure +of time, the geological, the biological, any telescopic measure which +minimizes the present is not "more true" than a microscopic. Mr. +Simeon Strunsky is right when he insists that "if Mr. Wells is +thinking of his subtitle, The Probable Future of Mankind, he is +entitled to ask for any number of centuries to work out his solution. +If he is thinking of the salvaging of this western civilization, +reeling under the effects of the Great War, he must think in decades +and scores of years." [Footnote: In a review of _The Salvaging of +Civilization, The Literary Review of the N. Y. Evening Post_, June +18, 1921, p. 5.] It all depends upon the practical purpose for which +you adopt the measure. There are situations when the time perspective +needs to be lengthened, and others when it needs to be shortened. + +The man who says that it does not matter if 15,000,000 Chinese die of +famine, because in two generations the birthrate will make up the +loss, has used a time perspective to excuse his inertia. A person who +pauperizes a healthy young man because he is sentimentally +overimpressed with an immediate difficulty has lost sight of the +duration of the beggar's life. The people who for the sake of an +immediate peace are willing to buy off an aggressive empire by +indulging its appetite have allowed a specious present to interfere +with the peace of their children. The people who will not be patient +with a troublesome neighbor, who want to bring everything to a +"showdown" are no less the victims of a specious present. + +6 + +Into almost every social problem the proper calculation of time +enters. Suppose, for example, it is a question of timber. Some trees +grow faster than others. Then a sound forest policy is one in which +the amount of each species and of each age cut in each season is made +good by replanting. In so far as that calculation is correct the +truest economy has been reached. To cut less is waste, and to cut more +is exploitation. But there may come an emergency, say the need for +aeroplane spruce in a war, when the year's allowance must be exceeded. +An alert government will recognize that and regard the restoration of +the balance as a charge upon the future. + +Coal involves a different theory of time, because coal, unlike a tree, +is produced on the scale of geological time. The supply is limited. +Therefore a correct social policy involves intricate computation of +the available reserves of the world, the indicated possibilities, the +present rate of use, the present economy of use, and the alternative +fuels. But when that computation has been reached it must finally be +squared with an ideal standard involving time. Suppose, for example, +that engineers conclude that the present fuels are being exhausted at +a certain rate; that barring new discoveries industry will have to +enter a phase of contraction at some definite time in the future. We +have then to determine how much thrift and self-denial we will use, +after all feasible economies have been exercised, in order not to rob +posterity. But what shall we consider posterity? Our grandchildren? +Our great grandchildren? Perhaps we shall decide to calculate on a +hundred years, believing that to be ample time for the discovery of +alternative fuels if the necessity is made clear at once. The figures +are, of course, hypothetical. But in calculating that way we shall be +employing what reason we have. We shall be giving social time its +place in public opinion. Let us now imagine a somewhat different case: +a contract between a city and a trolley-car company. The company says +that it will not invest its capital unless it is granted a monopoly of +the main highway for ninety-nine years. In the minds of the men who +make that demand ninety-nine years is so long as to mean "forever." +But suppose there is reason to think that surface cars, run from a +central power plant on tracks, are going out of fashion in twenty +years. Then it is a most unwise contract to make, for you are +virtually condemning a future generation to inferior transportation. +In making such a contract the city officials lack a realizing sense of +ninety-nine years. Far better to give the company a subsidy now in +order to attract capital than to stimulate investment by indulging a +fallacious sense of eternity. No city official and no company official +has a sense of real time when he talks about ninety-nine years. + +Popular history is a happy hunting ground of time confusions. To the +average Englishman, for example, the behavior of Cromwell, the +corruption of the Act of Union, the Famine of 1847 are wrongs suffered +by people long dead and done by actors long dead with whom no living +person, Irish or English, has any real connection. But in the mind of +a patriotic Irishman these same events are almost contemporary. His +memory is like one of those historical paintings, where Virgil and +Dante sit side by side conversing. These perspectives and +foreshortenings are a great barrier between peoples. It is ever so +difficult for a person of one tradition to remember what is +contemporary in the tradition of another. + +Almost nothing that goes by the name of Historic Rights or Historic +Wrongs can be called a truly objective view of the past. Take, for +example, the Franco-German debate about Alsace-Lorraine. It all +depends on the original date you select. If you start with the Rauraci +and Sequani, the lands are historically part of Ancient Gaul. If you +prefer Henry I, they are historically a German territory; if you take +1273 they belong to the House of Austria; if you take 1648 and the +Peace of Westphalia, most of them are French; if you take Louis XIV +and the year 1688 they are almost all French. If you are using the +argument from history you are fairly certain to select those dates in +the past which support your view of what should be done now. + +Arguments about "races" and nationalities often betray the same +arbitrary view of time. During the war, under the influence of +powerful feeling, the difference between "Teutons" on the one hand, +and "Anglo-Saxons" and French on the other, was popularly believed to +be an eternal difference. They had always been opposing races. Yet a +generation ago, historians, like Freeman, were emphasizing the common +Teutonic origin of the West European peoples, and ethnologists would +certainly insist that the Germans, English, and the greater part of +the French are branches of what was once a common stock. The general +rule is: if you like a people to-day you come down the branches to the +trunk; if you dislike them you insist that the separate branches are +separate trunks. In one case you fix your attention on the period +before they were distinguishable; in the other on the period after +which they became distinct. And the view which fits the mood is taken +as the "truth." + +An amiable variation is the family tree. Usually one couple are +appointed the original ancestors, if possible, a couple associated +with an honorific event like the Norman Conquest. That couple have no +ancestors. They are not descendants. Yet they were the descendants of +ancestors, and the expression that So-and-So was the founder of his +house means not that he is the Adam of his family, but that he is the +particular ancestor from whom it is desirable to start, or perhaps the +earliest ancestor of which there is a record. But genealogical tables +exhibit a deeper prejudice. Unless the female line happens to be +especially remarkable descent is traced down through the males. The +tree is male. At various moments females accrue to it as itinerant +bees light upon an ancient apple tree. + +7 + +But the future is the most illusive time of all. Our temptation here +is to jump over necessary steps in the sequence; and as we are +governed by hope or doubt, to exaggerate or to minimize the time +required to complete various parts of a process. The discussion of the +role to be exercised by wage-earners in the management of industry is +riddled with this difficulty. For management is a word that covers +many functions. [Footnote: Cf. Carter L. Goodrich, The Frontier of +Control.] Some of these require no training; some require a little +training; others can be learned only in a lifetime. And the truly +discriminating program of industrial democratization would be one +based on the proper time sequence, so that the assumption of +responsibility would run parallel to a complementary program of +industrial training. The proposal for a sudden dictatorship of the +proletariat is an attempt to do away with the intervening time of +preparation; the resistance to all sharing of responsibility an +attempt to deny the alteration of human capacity in the course of +time. Primitive notions of democracy, such as rotation in office, and +contempt for the expert, are really nothing but the old myth that the +Goddess of Wisdom sprang mature and fully armed from the brow of Jove. +They assume that what it takes years to learn need not be learned at +all. + +Whenever the phrase "backward people" is used as the basis of a +policy, the conception of time is a decisive element. The Covenant of +the League of Nations says, [Footnote: Article XIX.] for example, that +"the character of the mandate must differ according to the stage of +the development of the people," as well as on other grounds. Certain +communities, it asserts, "have reached a stage of development" where +their independence can be provisionally recognized, subject to advice +and assistance "until such time as they are able to stand alone." The +way in which the mandatories and the mandated conceive that time will +influence deeply their relations. Thus in the case of Cuba the +judgment of the American government virtually coincided with that of +the Cuban patriots, and though there has been trouble, there is no +finer page in the history of how strong powers have dealt with the +weak. Oftener in that history the estimates have not coincided. Where +the imperial people, whatever its public expressions, has been deeply +convinced that the backwardness of the backward was so hopeless as not +to be worth remedying, or so profitable that it was not desirable to +remedy it, the tie has festered and poisoned the peace of the world. +There have been a few cases, very few, where backwardness has meant to +the ruling power the need for a program of forwardness, a program with +definite standards and definite estimates of time. Far more +frequently, so frequently in fact as to seem the rule, backwardness +has been conceived as an intrinsic and eternal mark of inferiority. +And then every attempt to be less backward has been frowned upon as +the sedition, which, under these conditions, it undoubtedly is. In our +own race wars we can see some of the results of the failure to realize +that time would gradually obliterate the slave morality of the Negro, +and that social adjustment based on this morality would begin to break +down. + +It is hard not to picture the future as if it obeyed our present +purposes, to annihilate whatever delays our desire, or immortalize +whatever stands between us and our fears. + +8 + +In putting together our public opinions, not only do we have to +picture more space than we can see with our eyes, and more time than +we can feel, but we have to describe and judge more people, more +actions, more things than we can ever count, or vividly imagine. We +have to summarize and generalize. We have to pick out samples, and +treat them as typical. + +To pick fairly a good sample of a large class is not easy. The problem +belongs to the science of statistics, and it is a most difficult +affair for anyone whose mathematics is primitive, and mine remain +azoic in spite of the half dozen manuals which I once devoutly +imagined that I understood. All they have done for me is to make me a +little more conscious of how hard it is to classify and to sample, how +readily we spread a little butter over the whole universe. + +Some time ago a group of social workers in Sheffield, England, started +out to substitute an accurate picture of the mental equipment of the +workers of that city for the impressionistic one they had. [Footnote: +_The Equipment of the Worker_.] They wished to say, with some +decent grounds for saying it, how the workers of Sheffield were +equipped. They found, as we all find the moment we refuse to let our +first notion prevail, that they were beset with complications. Of the +test they employed nothing need be said here except that it was a +large questionnaire. For the sake of the illustration, assume that the +questions were a fair test of mental equipment for English city life. +Theoretically, then, those questions should have been put to every +member of the working class. But it is not so easy to know who are the +working class. However, assume again that the census knows how to +classify them. Then there were roughly 104,000 men and 107,000 women +who ought to have been questioned. They possessed the answers which +would justify or refute the casual phrase about the "ignorant workers" +or the "intelligent workers." But nobody could think of questioning +the whole two hundred thousand. + +So the social workers consulted an eminent statistician, Professor +Bowley. He advised them that not less than 408 men and 408 women would +prove to be a fair sample. According to mathematical calculation this +number would not show a greater deviation from the average than 1 in +22. [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. 65.] They had, therefore, to +question at least 816 people before they could pretend to talk about +the average workingman. But which 816 people should they approach? "We +might have gathered particulars concerning workers to whom one or +another of us had a pre-inquiry access; we might have worked through +philanthropic gentlemen and ladies who were in contact with certain +sections of workers at a club, a mission, an infirmary, a place of +worship, a settlement. But such a method of selection would produce +entirely worthless results. The workers thus selected would not be in +any sense representative of what is popularly called 'the average run +of workers;' they would represent nothing but the little coteries to +which they belonged. + +"The right way of securing 'victims,' to which at immense cost of time +and labour we rigidly adhered, is to get hold of your workers by some +'neutral' or 'accidental' or 'random' method of approach." This they +did. And after all these precautions they came to no more definite +conclusion than that on their classification and according to their +questionnaire, among 200,000 Sheffield workers "about one quarter" +were "well equipped," "approaching three-quarters" were "inadequately +equipped" and that "about one-fifteenth" were "mal-equipped." + +Compare this conscientious and almost pedantic method of arriving at +an opinion, with our usual judgments about masses of people, about the +volatile Irish, and the logical French, and the disciplined Germans, +and the ignorant Slavs, and the honest Chinese, and the untrustworthy +Japanese, and so on and so on. All these are generalizations drawn +from samples, but the samples are selected by a method that +statistically is wholly unsound. Thus the employer will judge labor by +the most troublesome employee or the most docile that he knows, and +many a radical group has imagined that it was a fair sample of the +working class. How many women's views on the "servant question" are +little more than the reflection of their own treatment of their +servants? The tendency of the casual mind is to pick out or stumble +upon a sample which supports or defies its prejudices, and then to +make it the representative of a whole class. + +A great deal of confusion arises when people decline to classify +themselves as we have classified them. Prophecy would be so much +easier if only they would stay where we put them. But, as a matter of +fact, a phrase like the working class will cover only some of the +truth for a part of the time. When you take all the people, below a +certain level of income, and call them the working class, you cannot +help assuming that the people so classified will behave in accordance +with your stereotype. Just who those people are you are not quite +certain. Factory hands and mine workers fit in more or less, but farm +hands, small farmers, peddlers, little shop keepers, clerks, servants, +soldiers, policemen, firemen slip out of the net. The tendency, when +you are appealing to the "working class," is to fix your attention on +two or three million more or less confirmed trade unionists, and treat +them as Labor; the other seventeen or eighteen million, who might +qualify statistically, are tacitly endowed with the point of view +ascribed to the organized nucleus. How very misleading it was to +impute to the British working class in 1918-1921 the point of view +expressed in the resolutions of the Trades Union Congress or in the +pamphlets written by intellectuals. + +The stereotype of Labor as Emancipator selects the evidence which +supports itself and rejects the other. And so parallel with the real +movements of working men there exists a fiction of the Labor Movement, +in which an idealized mass moves towards an ideal goal. The fiction +deals with the future. In the future possibilities are almost +indistinguishable from probabilities and probabilities from +certainties. If the future is long enough, the human will might turn +what is just conceivable into what is very likely, and what is likely +into what is sure to happen. James called this the faith ladder, and +said that "it is a slope of goodwill on which in the larger questions +of life men habitually live." [Footnote: William James, _Some +Problems of Philosophy_, p. 224.] + +"1. There is nothing absurd in a certain view of the world being true, +nothing contradictory; + +2. It _might_ have been true under certain conditions; + +3. It _may_ be true even now; + +4. It is _fit_ to be true; + +5. It _ought_ to be true; + +6. It _must_ be true; + +7. It _shall_ be true, at any rate true for me." + +And, as he added in another place, [Footnote: _A Pluralistic +Universe_, p. 329.] "your acting thus may in certain special cases +be a means of making it securely true in the end." Yet no one would +have insisted more than he, that, so far as we know how, we must avoid +substituting the goal for the starting point, must avoid reading back +into the present what courage, effort and skill might create in the +future. Yet this truism is inordinately difficult to live by, because +every one of us is so little trained in the selection of our samples. + +If we believe that a certain thing ought to be true, we can almost +always find either an instance where it is true, or someone who +believes it ought to be true. It is ever so hard when a concrete fact +illustrates a hope to weigh that fact properly. When the first six +people we meet agree with us, it is not easy to remember that they may +all have read the same newspaper at breakfast. And yet we cannot send +out a questionnaire to 816 random samples every time we wish to +estimate a probability. In dealing with any large mass of facts, the +presumption is against our having picked true samples, if we are +acting on a casual impression. + +9 + +And when we try to go one step further in order to seek the causes and +effects of unseen and complicated affairs, haphazard opinion is very +tricky. There are few big issues in public life where cause and effect +are obvious at once. They are not obvious to scholars who have devoted +years, let us say, to studying business cycles, or price and wage +movements, or the migration and the assimilation of peoples, or the +diplomatic purposes of foreign powers. Yet somehow we are all supposed +to have opinions on these matters, and it is not surprising that the +commonest form of reasoning is the intuitive, post hoc ergo propter +hoc. + +The more untrained a mind, the more readily it works out a theory that +two things which catch its attention at the same time are causally +connected. We have already dwelt at some length on the way things +reach our attention. We have seen that our access to information is +obstructed and uncertain, and that our apprehension is deeply +controlled by our stereotypes; that the evidence available to our +reason is subject to illusions of defense, prestige, morality, space, +time, and sampling. We must note now that with this initial taint, +public opinions are still further beset, because in a series of events +seen mostly through stereotypes, we readily accept sequence or +parallelism as equivalent to cause and effect. + +This is most likely to happen when two ideas that come together arouse +the same feeling. If they come together they are likely to arouse the +same feeling; and even when they do not arrive together a powerful +feeling attached to one is likely to suck out of all the corners of +memory any idea that feels about the same. Thus everything painful +tends to collect into one system of cause and effect, and likewise +everything pleasant. + +"IId IIm (1675) This day I hear that G[od] has shot an arrow into the +midst of this Town. The small pox is in an ordinary ye sign of the +Swan, the ordinary Keepers name is Windsor. His daughter is sick of +the disease. It is observable that this disease begins at an alehouse, +to testify God's displeasure agt the sin of drunkenness & yt of +multiplying alehouses!" [Footnote: _The Heart of the Puritan_, p. +177, edited by Elizabeth Deering Hanscom.] + +Thus Increase Mather, and thus in the year 1919 a distinguished +Professor of Celestial Mechanics discussing the Einstein theory: + +"It may well be that.... Bolshevist uprisings are in reality the +visible objects of some underlying, deep, mental disturbance, +world-wide in character.... This same spirit of unrest has invaded +science." [Footnote: Cited in _The New Republic_, Dec. 24, 1919, +p. 120.] + +In hating one thing violently, we readily associate with it as cause +or effect most of the other things we hate or fear violently. They may +have no more connection than smallpox and alehouses, or Relativity and +Bolshevism, but they are bound together in the same emotion. In a +superstitious mind, like that of the Professor of Celestial Mechanics, +emotion is a stream of molten lava which catches and imbeds whatever +it touches. When you excavate in it you find, as in a buried city, all +sorts of objects ludicrously entangled in each other. Anything can be +related to anything else, provided it feels like it. Nor has a mind in +such a state any way of knowing how preposterous it is. Ancient fears, +reinforced by more recent fears, coagulate into a snarl of fears where +anything that is dreaded is the cause of anything else that is +dreaded. + +10 + +Generally it all culminates in the fabrication of a system of all +evil, and of another which is the system of all good. Then our love of +the absolute shows itself. For we do not like qualifying +adverbs. [Footnote: _Cf_. Freud's discussion of absolutism in +dreams, _Interpretation of Dreams_, Chapter VI, especially pp. +288, _et seq_.] They clutter up sentences, and interfere with +irresistible feeling. We prefer most to more, least to less, we +dislike the words rather, perhaps, if, or, but, toward, not quite, +almost, temporarily, partly. Yet nearly every opinion about public +affairs needs to be deflated by some word of this sort. But in our +free moments everything tends to behave absolutely,--one hundred +percent, everywhere, forever. + +It is not enough to say that our side is more right than the enemy's, +that our victory will help democracy more than his. One must insist +that our victory will end war forever, and make the world safe for +democracy. And when the war is over, though we have thwarted a greater +evil than those which still afflict us, the relativity of the result +fades out, the absoluteness of the present evil overcomes our spirit, +and we feel that we are helpless because we have not been +irresistible. Between omnipotence and impotence the pendulum swings. + +Real space, real time, real numbers, real connections, real weights +are lost. The perspective and the background and the dimensions of +action are clipped and frozen in the stereotype. + + + + +PART IV + +INTERESTS + +CHAPTER 11. THE ENLISTING OF INTEREST + " 12. SELF-INTEREST RECONSIDERED + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ENLISTING OF INTEREST + +I + +BUT the human mind is not a film which registers once and for all each +impression that comes through its shutters and lenses. The human mind +is endlessly and persistently creative. The pictures fade or combine, +are sharpened here, condensed there, as we make them more completely +our own. They do not lie inert upon the surface of the mind, but are +reworked by the poetic faculty into a personal expression of +ourselves. We distribute the emphasis and participate in the action. + +In order to do this we tend to personalize quantities, and to +dramatize relations. As some sort of allegory, except in acutely +sophisticated minds, the affairs of the world are represented. Social +Movements, Economic Forces, National Interests, Public Opinion are +treated as persons, or persons like the Pope, the President, Lenin, +Morgan or the King become ideas and institutions. The deepest of all +the stereotypes is the human stereotype which imputes human nature to +inanimate or collective things. + +The bewildering variety of our impressions, even after they have been +censored in all kinds of ways, tends to force us to adopt the greater +economy of the allegory. So great is the multitude of things that we +cannot keep them vividly in mind. Usually, then, we name them, and let +the name stand for the whole impression. But a name is porous. Old +meanings slip out and new ones slip in, and the attempt to retain the +full meaning of the name is almost as fatiguing as trying to recall +the original impressions. Yet names are a poor currency for thought. +They are too empty, too abstract, too inhuman. And so we begin to see +the name through some personal stereotype, to read into it, finally to +see in it the incarnation of some human quality. + +Yet human qualities are themselves vague and fluctuating. They are +best remembered by a physical sign. And therefore, the human qualities +we tend to ascribe to the names of our impressions, themselves tend to +be visualized in physical metaphors. The people of England, the +history of England, condense into England, and England becomes John +Bull, who is jovial and fat, not too clever, but well able to take +care of himself. The migration of a people may appear to some as the +meandering of a river, and to others like a devastating flood. The +courage people display may be objectified as a rock; their purpose as +a road, their doubts as forks of the road, their difficulties as ruts +and rocks, their progress as a fertile valley. If they mobilize their +dread-naughts they unsheath a sword. If their army surrenders they are +thrown to earth. If they are oppressed they are on the rack or under +the harrow. + +When public affairs are popularized in speeches, headlines, plays, +moving pictures, cartoons, novels, statues or paintings, their +transformation into a human interest requires first abstraction from +the original, and then animation of what has been abstracted. We +cannot be much interested in, or much moved by, the things we do not +see. Of public affairs each of us sees very little, and therefore, +they remain dull and unappetizing, until somebody, with the makings of +an artist, has translated them into a moving picture. Thus the +abstraction, imposed upon our knowledge of reality by all the +limitations of our access and of our prejudices, is compensated. Not +being omnipresent and omniscient we cannot see much of what we have to +think and talk about. Being flesh and blood we will not feed on words +and names and gray theory. Being artists of a sort we paint pictures, +stage dramas and draw cartoons out of the abstractions. + +Or, if possible, we find gifted men who can visualize for us. For +people are not all endowed to the same degree with the pictorial +faculty. Yet one may, I imagine, assert with Bergson that the +practical intelligence is most closely adapted to spatial +qualities. [Footnote: _Creative Evolution_, Chs. III, IV.] A +"clear" thinker is almost always a good visualizer. But for that same +reason, because he is "cinematographic," he is often by that much +external and insensitive. For the people who have intuition, which is +probably another name for musical or muscular perception, often +appreciate the quality of an event and the inwardness of an act far +better than the visualizer. They have more understanding when the +crucial element is a desire that is never crudely overt, and appears +on the surface only in a veiled gesture, or in a rhythm of speech. +Visualization may catch the stimulus and the result. But the +intermediate and internal is often as badly caricatured by a +visualizer, as is the intention of the composer by an enormous soprano +in the sweet maiden's part. + +Nevertheless, though they have often a peculiar justice, intuitions +remain highly private and largely incommunicable. But social +intercourse depends on communication, and while a person can often +steer his own life with the utmost grace by virtue of his intuitions, +he usually has great difficulty in making them real to others. When he +talks about them they sound like a sheaf of mist. For while intuition +does give a fairer perception of human feeling, the reason with its +spatial and tactile prejudice can do little with that perception. +Therefore, where action depends on whether a number of people are of +one mind, it is probably true that in the first instance no idea is +lucid for practical decision until it has visual or tactile value. But +it is also true, that no visual idea is significant to us until it has +enveloped some stress of our own personality. Until it releases or +resists, depresses or enhances, some craving of our own, it remains +one of the objects which do not matter. + +2 + +Pictures have always been the surest way of conveying an idea, and +next in order, words that call up pictures in memory. But the idea +conveyed is not fully our own until we have identified ourselves with +some aspect of the picture. The identification, or what Vernon Lee has +called empathy, [Footnote: _Beauty and Ugliness_.] may be almost +infinitely subtle and symbolic. The mimicry may be performed without +our being aware of it, and sometimes in a way that would horrify those +sections of our personality which support our self-respect. In +sophisticated people the participation may not be in the fate of the +hero, but in the fate of the whole idea to which both hero and villain +are essential. But these are refinements. + +In popular representation the handles for identification are almost +always marked. You know who the hero is at once. And no work promises +to be easily popular where the marking is not definite and the choice +clear. [Footnote: A fact which bears heavily on the character of news. +_Cf_. Part VII.] But that is not enough. The audience must have +something to do, and the contemplation of the true, the good and the +beautiful is not something to do. In order not to sit inertly in the +presence of the picture, and this applies as much to newspaper stories +as to fiction and the cinema, the audience must be exercised by the +image. Now there are two forms of exercise which far transcend all +others, both as to ease with which they are aroused, and eagerness +with which stimuli for them are sought. They are sexual passion and +fighting, and the two have so many associations with each other, blend +into each other so intimately, that a fight about sex outranks every +other theme in the breadth of its appeal. There is none so engrossing +or so careless of all distinctions of culture and frontiers. + +The sexual motif figures hardly at all in American political imagery. +Except in certain minor ecstasies of war, in an occasional scandal, or +in phases of the racial conflict with Negroes or Asiatics, to speak of +it at all would seem far-fetched. Only in moving pictures, novels, and +some magazine fiction are industrial relations, business competition, +politics, and diplomacy tangled up with the girl and the other woman. +But the fighting motif appears at every turn. Politics is interesting +when there is a fight, or as we say, an issue. And in order to make +politics popular, issues have to be found, even when in truth and +justice, there are none,--none, in the sense that the differences of +judgment, or principle, or fact, do not call for the enlistment of +pugnacity. [Footnote: _Cf_. Frances Taylor Patterson, _Cinema +Craftsmanship_, pp. 31-32. "III. If the plot lacks suspense: 1. Add +an antagonist, 2. Add an obstacle, 3. Add a problem, 4. Emphasize one +of the questions in the minds of the spectator.,.."] + +But where pugnacity is not enlisted, those of us who are not directly +involved find it hard to keep up our interest. For those who are +involved the absorption may be real enough to hold them even when no +issue is involved. They may be exercised by sheer joy in activity, or +by subtle rivalry or invention. But for those to whom the whole +problem is external and distant, these other faculties do not easily +come into play. In order that the faint image of the affair shall mean +something to them, they must be allowed to exercise the love of +struggle, suspense, and victory. + +Miss Patterson [Footnote: _Op. cit._, pp. 6-7.] insists that +"suspense... constitutes the difference between the masterpieces in +the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the pictures at the Rivoli or the +Rialto Theatres." Had she made it clear that the masterpieces lack +either an easy mode of identification or a theme popular for this +generation, she would be wholly right in saying that this "explains +why the people straggle into the Metropolitan by twos and threes and +struggle into the Rialto and Rivoli by hundreds. The twos and threes +look at a picture in the Art Museum for less than ten minutes--unless +they chance to be art students, critics, or connoisseurs. The hundreds +in the Rivoli or the Rialto look at the picture for more than an hour. +As far as beauty is concerned there can be no comparison of the merits +of the two pictures. Yet the motion picture draws more people and +holds them at attention longer than do the masterpieces, not through +any intrinsic merit of its own, but because it depicts unfolding +events, the outcome of which the audience is breathlessly waiting. It +possesses the element of struggle, which never fails to arouse +suspense." + +In order then that the distant situation shall not be a gray flicker +on the edge of attention, it should be capable of translation into +pictures in which the opportunity for identification is recognizable. +Unless that happens it will interest only a few for a little while. It +will belong to the sights seen but not felt, to the sensations that +beat on our sense organs, and are not acknowledged. We have to take +sides. We have to be able to take sides. In the recesses of our being +we must step out of the audience on to the stage, and wrestle as the +hero for the victory of good over evil. We must breathe into the +allegory the breath of our life. + +3 + +And so, in spite of the critics, a verdict is rendered in the old +controversy about realism and romanticism. Our popular taste is to +have the drama originate in a setting realistic enough to make +identification plausible and to have it terminate in a setting +romantic enough to be desirable, but not so romantic as to be +inconceivable. In between the beginning and the end the canons are +liberal, but the true beginning and the happy ending are landmarks. +The moving picture audience rejects fantasy logically developed, +because in pure fantasy there is no familiar foothold in the age of +machines. It rejects realism relentlessly pursued because it does not +enjoy defeat in a struggle that has become its own. + +What will be accepted as true, as realistic, as good, as evil, as +desirable, is not eternally fixed. These are fixed by stereotypes, +acquired from earlier experiences and carried over into judgment of +later ones. And, therefore, if the financial investment in each film +and in popular magazines were not so exorbitant as to require instant +and widespread popularity, men of spirit and imagination would be able +to use the screen and the periodical, as one might dream of their +being used, to enlarge and to refine, to verify and criticize the +repertory of images with which our imaginations work. But, given the +present costs, the men who make moving pictures, like the church and +the court painters of other ages, must adhere to the stereotypes that +they find, or pay the price of frustrating expectation. The +stereotypes can be altered, but not in time to guarantee success when +the film is released six months from now. + +The men who do alter the stereotypes, the pioneering artists and +critics, are naturally depressed and angered at managers and editors +who protect their investments. They are risking everything, then why +not the others? That is not quite fair, for in their righteous fury +they have forgotten their own rewards, which are beyond any that their +employers can hope to feel. They could not, and would not if they +could, change places. And they have forgotten another thing in the +unceasing war with Philistia. They have forgotten that they are +measuring their own success by standards that artists and wise men of +the past would never have dreamed of invoking. They are asking for +circulations and audiences that were never considered by any artist +until the last few generations. And when they do not get them, they +are disappointed. + +Those who catch on, like Sinclair Lewis in "Main Street," are men who +have succeeded in projecting definitely what great numbers of other +people were obscurely trying to say inside their heads. "You have said +it for me." They establish a new form which is then endlessly copied +until it, too, becomes a stereotype of perception. The next pioneer +finds it difficult to make the public see Main Street any other way. +And he, like the forerunners of Sinclair Lewis, has a quarrel with the +public. + +This quarrel is due not only to the conflict of stereotypes, but to +the pioneering artist's reverence for his material. Whatever the plane +he chooses, on that plane he remains. If he is dealing with the +inwardness of an event he follows it to its conclusion regardless of +the pain it causes. He will not tag his fantasy to help anyone, or cry +peace where there is no peace. There is his America. But big audiences +have no stomach for such severity. They are more interested in +themselves than in anything else in the world. The selves in which +they are interested are the selves that have been revealed by schools +and by tradition. They insist that a work of art shall be a vehicle +with a step where they can climb aboard, and that they shall ride, not +according to the contours of the country, but to a land where for an +hour there are no clocks to punch and no dishes to wash. To satisfy +these demands there exists an intermediate class of artists who are +able and willing to confuse the planes, to piece together a +realistic-romantic compound out of the inventions of greater men, and, +as Miss Patterson advises, give "what real life so rarely does-the +triumphant resolution of a set of difficulties; the anguish of virtue +and the triumph of sin... changed to the glorifications of virtue and +the eternal punishment of its enemy." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. +46. "The hero and heroine must in general possess youth, beauty, +goodness, exalted self-sacrifice, and unalterable constancy."] + +4 + +The ideologies of politics obey these rules. The foothold of realism +is always there. The picture of some real evil, such as the German +threat or class conflict, is recognizable in the argument. There is a +description of some aspect of the world which is convincing because it +agrees with familiar ideas. But as the ideology deals with an unseen +future, as well as with a tangible present, it soon crosses +imperceptibly the frontier of verification. In describing the present +you are more or less tied down to common experience. In describing +what nobody has experienced you are bound to let go. You stand at +Armageddon, more or less, but you battle for the Lord, perhaps.... A +true beginning, true according to the standards prevailing, and a +happy ending. Every Marxist is hard as nails about the brutalities of +the present, and mostly sunshine about the day after the dictatorship. +So were the war propagandists: there was not a bestial quality in +human nature they did not find everywhere east of the Rhine, or west +of it if they were Germans. The bestiality was there all right. But +after the victory, eternal peace. Plenty of this is quite cynically +deliberate. For the skilful propagandist knows that while you must +start with a plausible analysis, you must not keep on analyzing, +because the tedium of real political accomplishment will soon destroy +interest. So the propagandist exhausts the interest in reality by a +tolerably plausible beginning, and then stokes up energy for a long +voyage by brandishing a passport to heaven. + +The formula works when the public fiction enmeshes itself with a +private urgency. But once enmeshed, in the heat of battle, the +original self and the original stereotype which effected the junction +may be wholly lost to sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +SELF-INTEREST RECONSIDERED + +1 + +THEREFORE, the identical story is not the same story to all who hear +it. Each will enter it at a slightly different point, since no two +experiences are exactly alike; he will reenact it in his own way, and +transfuse it with his own feelings. Sometimes an artist of compelling +skill will force us to enter into lives altogether unlike our own, +lives that seem at first glance dull, repulsive, or eccentric. But +that is rare. In almost every story that catches our attention we +become a character and act out the role with a pantomime of our own. +The pantomime may be subtle or gross, may be sympathetic to the story, +or only crudely analogous; but it will consist of those feelings which +are aroused by our conception of the role. And so, the original theme +as it circulates, is stressed, twisted, and embroidered by all the +minds through which it goes. It is as if a play of Shakespeare's were +rewritten each time it is performed with all the changes of emphasis +and meaning that the actors and audience inspired. + +Something very like that seems to have happened to the stories in the +sagas before they were definitively written down. In our time the +printed record, such as it is, checks the exuberance of each +individual's fancy. But against rumor there is little or no checks and +the original story, true or invented, grows wings and horns, hoofs and +beaks, as the artist in each gossip works upon it. The first +narrator's account does not keep its shape and proportions. It is +edited and revised by all who played with it as they heard it, used it +for day dreams, and passed it on. [Footnote: For an interesting +example, see the case described by C. J. Jung, _Zentralblatt fuer +Psychoanalyse_, 1911, Vol. I, p. 81. Translated by Constance Long, +in _Analytical Psychology_, Ch. IV.] + +Consequently the more mixed the audience, the greater will be the +variation in the response. For as the audience grows larger, the +number of common words diminishes. Thus the common factors in the +story become more abstract. This story, lacking precise character of +its own, is heard by people of highly varied character. They give it +their own character. + +2 + +The character they give it varies not only with sex and age, race and +religion and social position, but within these cruder classifications, +according to the inherited and acquired constitution of the +individual, his faculties, his career, the progress of his career, an +emphasized aspect of his career, his moods and tenses, or his place on +the board in any of the games of life that he is playing. What reaches +him of public affairs, a few lines of print, some photographs, +anecdotes, and some casual experience of his own, he conceives through +his set patterns and recreates with his own emotions. He does not take +his personal problems as partial samples of the greater environment. +He takes his stories of the greater environment as a mimic enlargement +of his private life. + +But not necessarily of that private life as he would describe it to +himself. For in his private life the choices are narrow, and much of +himself is squeezed down and out of sight where it cannot directly +govern his outward behavior. And thus, beside the more average people +who project the happiness of their own lives into a general good will, +or their unhappiness into suspicion and hate, there are the outwardly +happy people who are brutal everywhere but in their own circle, as +well as the people who, the more they detest their families, their +friends, their jobs, the more they overflow with love for mankind. + +As you descend from generalities to detail, it becomes more apparent +that the character in which men deal with their affairs is not fixed. +Possibly their different selves have a common stem and common +qualities, but the branches and the twigs have many forms. Nobody +confronts every situation with the same character. His character +varies in some degree through the sheer influence of time and +accumulating memory, since he is not an automaton. His character +varies, not only in time, but according to circumstance. The legend of +the solitary Englishman in the South Seas, who invariably shaves and +puts on a black tie for dinner, bears witness to his own intuitive and +civilized fear of losing the character which he has acquired. So do +diaries, and albums, and souvenirs, old letters, and old clothes, and +the love of unchanging routine testify to our sense of how hard it is +to step twice in the Heraclitan river. + +There is no one self always at work. And therefore it is of great +importance in the formation of any public opinion, what self is +engaged. The Japanese ask the right to settle in California. Clearly +it makes a whole lot of difference whether you conceive the demand as +a desire to grow fruit or to marry the white man's daughter. If two +nations are disputing a piece of territory, it matters greatly whether +the people regard the negotiations as a real estate deal, an attempt +to humiliate them, or, in the excited and provocative language which +usually enclouds these arguments, as a rape. For the self which takes +charge of the instincts when we are thinking about lemons or distant +acres is very different from the self which appears when we are +thinking even potentially as the outraged head of a family. In one +case the private feeling which enters into the opinion is tepid, in +the other, red hot. And so while it is so true as to be mere tautology +that "self-interest" determines opinion, the statement is not +illuminating, until we know which self out of many selects and directs +the interest so conceived. + +Religious teaching and popular wisdom have always distinguished +several personalities in each human being. They have been called the +Higher and Lower, the Spiritual and the Material, the Divine and the +Carnal; and although we may not wholly accept this classification, we +cannot fail to observe that distinctions exist. Instead of two +antithetic selves, a modern man would probably note a good many not so +sharply separated. He would say that the distinction drawn by +theologians was arbitrary and external, because many different selves +were grouped together as higher provided they fitted into the +theologian's categories, but he would recognize nevertheless that here +was an authentic clue to the variety of human nature. + +We have learned to note many selves, and to be a little less ready to +issue judgment upon them. We understand that we see the same body, but +often a different man, depending on whether he is dealing with a +social equal, a social inferior, or a social superior; on whether he +is making love to a woman he is eligible to marry, or to one whom he +is not; on whether he is courting a woman, or whether he considers +himself her proprietor; on whether he is dealing with his children, +his partners, his most trusted subordinates, the boss who can make him +or break him; on whether he is struggling for the necessities of life, +or successful; on whether he is dealing with a friendly alien, or a +despised one; on whether he is in great danger, or in perfect +security; on whether he is alone in Paris or among his family in +Peoria. + +People differ widely, of course, in the consistency of their +characters, so widely that they may cover the whole gamut of +differences between a split soul like Dr. Jekyll's and an utterly +singleminded Brand, Parsifal, or Don Quixote. If the selves are too +unrelated, we distrust the man; if they are too inflexibly on one +track we find him arid, stubborn, or eccentric. In the repertory of +characters, meager for the isolated and the self-sufficient, highly +varied for the adaptable, there is a whole range of selves, from that +one at the top which we should wish God to see, to those at the bottom +that we ourselves do not dare to see. There may be octaves for the +family,--father, Jehovah, tyrant,--husband, proprietor, male,--lover, +lecher,--for the occupation,--employer, master, exploiter,--competitor, +intriguer, enemy,--subordinate, courtier, snob. Some never come out +into public view. Others are called out only by exceptional circumstances. +But the characters take their form from a man's conception of the +situation in which he finds himself. If the environment to which he +is sensitive happens to be the smart set, he will imitate the character +he conceives to be appropriate. That character will tend to act as +modulator of his bearing, his speech, his choice of subjects, his +preferences. Much of the comedy of life lies here, in the way people +imagine their characters for situations that are strange to them: the +professor among promoters, the deacon at a poker game, the +cockney in the country, the paste diamond among real diamonds. + +3 + +Into the making of a man's characters there enters a variety of +influences not easily separated. [Footnote: For an interesting sketch +of the more noteworthy early attempts to explain character, see the +chapter called "The Antecedents of the Study of Character and +Temperament," in Joseph Jastrow's _The Psychology of Conviction_.] +The analysis in its fundamentals is perhaps still as doubtful as it +was in the fifth century B. C. when Hippocrates formulated the +doctrine of the humors, distinguished the sanguine, the +melancholic, the choleric, and the phlegmatic dispositions, and +ascribed them to the blood, the black bile, the yellow bile, and the +phlegm. The latest theories, such as one finds them in Cannon, +[Footnote: _Bodily Changes in Pleasure, Pain and Anger_.] Adler, +[Footnote: _The Neurotic Constitution_.] Kempf, [Footnote: _The +Autonomic Functions and the Personality; Psychopathology. Cf_. also +Louis Berman: _The Glands Regulating Personality_.] appear to +follow much the same scent, from the outward behavior and the inner +consciousness to the physiology of the body. But in spite of an +immensely improved technique, no one would be likely to claim that +there are settled conclusions which enable us to set apart nature from +nurture, and abstract the native character from the acquired. It is +only in what Joseph Jastrow has called the slums of psychology that +the explanation of character is regarded as a fixed system to be +applied by phrenologists, palmists, fortune-tellers, mind-readers, and +a few political professors. There you will still find it asserted that +"the Chinese are fond of colors, and have their eyebrows much vaulted" +while "the heads of the Calmucks are depressed from above, but very +large laterally, about the organ which gives the inclination to +acquire; and this nation's propensity to steal, etc., is admitted." +[Footnote: _Jastrow, op. cit._, p. 156.] + +The modern psychologists are disposed to regard the outward behavior +of an adult as an equation between a number of variables, such as the +resistance of the environment, repressed cravings of several +maturities, and the manifest personality. [Footnote: Formulated by +Kempf, _Psychopathology_, p. 74, as follows: + +Manifest wishes } + over } +Later Repressed Wishes } + Over } opposed by the resistance of the +Adolescent Repressed Wishes } environment=Behavior + Over } +Preadolescent Repressed Wishes } +] They permit us to suppose, though I have not seen the notion +formulated, that the repression or control of cravings is fixed not in +relation to the whole person all the time, but more or less in respect +to his various selves. There are things he will not do as a patriot +that he will do when he is not thinking of himself as a patriot. No +doubt there are impulses, more or less incipient in childhood, that +are never exercised again in the whole of a man's life, except as they +enter obscurely and indirectly into combination with other impulses. +But even that is not certain, since repression is not irretrievable. +For just as psychoanalysis can bring to the surface a buried impulse, +so can social situations. [Footnote: _Cf._ the very interesting +book of Everett Dean Martin, _The Behavior of Crowds_. + +Also Hobbes, _Leviathan_, Part II, Ch. 25. "For the passions of +men, which asunder are moderate, as the heat of one brand, in an +assembly are like many brands, that inflame one another, especially +when they blow one another with orations...." + +LeBon, _The Crowd_, elaborates this observation of Hobbes's.] It +is only when our surroundings remain normal and placid, when what is +expected of us by those we meet is consistent, that we live without +knowledge of many of our dispositions. When the unexpected occurs, we +learn much about ourselves that we did not know. + +The selves, which we construct with the help of all who influence us, +prescribe which impulses, how emphasized, how directed, are +appropriate to certain typical situations for which we have learned +prepared attitudes. For a recognizable type of experience, there is a +character which controls the outward manifestations of our whole +being. Murderous hate is, for example, controlled in civil life. +Though you choke with rage, you must not display it as a parent, +child, employer, politician. You would not wish to display a +personality that exudes murderous hate. You frown upon it, and the +people around you also frown. But if a war breaks out, the chances are +that everybody you admire will begin to feel the justification of +killing and hating. At first the vent for these feelings is very +narrow. The selves which come to the front are those which are attuned +to a real love of country, the kind of feeling that you find in Rupert +Brooke, and in Sir Edward Grey's speech on August 3,1914, and in +President Wilson's address to Congress on April 2, 1917. The reality +of war is still abhorred, and what war actually means is learned but +gradually. For previous wars are only transfigured memories. In that +honeymoon phase, the realists of war rightly insist that the nation is +not yet awake, and reassure each other by saying: "Wait for the +casualty lists." Gradually the impulse to kill becomes the main +business, and all those characters which might modify it, +disintegrate. The impulse becomes central, is sanctified, and +gradually turns unmanageable. It seeks a vent not alone on the idea of +the enemy, which is all the enemy most people actually see during the +war, but upon all the persons and objects and ideas that have always +been hateful. Hatred of the enemy is legitimate. These other hatreds +have themselves legitimized by the crudest analogy, and by what, once +having cooled off, we recognize as the most far-fetched analogy. It +takes a long time to subdue so powerful an impulse once it goes loose. +And therefore, when the war is over in fact, it takes time and +struggle to regain self-control, and to deal with the problems of +peace in civilian character. + +Modern war, as Mr. Herbert Croly has said, is inherent in the +political structure of modern society, but outlawed by its ideals. For +the civilian population there exists no ideal code of conduct in war, +such as the soldier still possesses and chivalry once prescribed. The +civilians are without standards, except those that the best of them +manage to improvise. The only standards they possess make war an +accursed thing. Yet though the war may be a necessary one, no moral +training has prepared them for it. Only their higher selves have a +code and patterns, and when they have to act in what the higher +regards as a lower character profound disturbance results. + +The preparation of characters for all the situations in which men may +find themselves is one function of a moral education. Clearly then, it +depends for its success upon the sincerity and knowledge with which +the environment has been explored. For in a world falsely conceived, +our own characters are falsely conceived, and we misbehave. So the +moralist must choose: either he must offer a pattern of conduct for +every phase of life, however distasteful some of its phases may be, or +he must guarantee that his pupils will never be confronted by the +situations he disapproves. Either he must abolish war, or teach people +how to wage it with the greatest psychic economy; either he must +abolish the economic life of man and feed him with stardust and dew, +or he must investigate all the perplexities of economic life and offer +patterns of conduct which are applicable in a world where no man is +self-supporting. But that is just what the prevailing moral culture so +generally refuses to do. In its best aspects it is diffident at the +awful complication of the modern world. In its worst, it is just +cowardly. Now whether the moralists study economics and politics and +psychology, or whether the social scientists educate the moralists is +no great matter. Each generation will go unprepared into the modern +world, unless it has been taught to conceive the kind of personality +it will have to be among the issues it will most likely meet. + +4 + +Most of this the naive view of self-interest leaves out of account. It +forgets that self and interest are both conceived somehow, and that +for the most part they are conventionally conceived. The ordinary +doctrine of self-interest usually omits altogether the cognitive +function. So insistent is it on the fact that human beings finally +refer all things to themselves, that it does not stop to notice that +men's ideas of all things and of themselves are not instinctive. They +are acquired. + +Thus it may be true enough, as James Madison wrote in the tenth paper +of the Federalist, that "a landed interest, a manufacturing interest, +a mercantile interest, a moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, +grow up of necessity in civilized nations, and divide them into +different classes, actuated by different sentiments and views." But if +you examine the context of Madison's paper, you discover something +which I think throws light upon that view of instinctive fatalism, +called sometimes the economic interpretation of history. Madison was +arguing for the federal constitution, and "among the numerous +advantages of the union" he set forth "its tendency to break and +control the violence of faction." Faction was what worried Madison. +And the causes of faction he traced to "the nature of man," where +latent dispositions are "brought into different degrees of activity, +according to the different circumstances of civil society. A zeal for +different opinions concerning religion, concerning government and many +other points, as well of speculation as of practice; an attachment to +different leaders ambitiously contending for preeminence and power, or +to persons of other descriptions whose fortunes have been interesting +to the human passions, have, in turn, divided mankind into parties, +inflamed them with mutual animosity, and rendered them much more +disposed to vex and oppress each other, than to cooperate for their +common good. So strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into +mutual animosities, that where no substantial occasion presents +itself, the most frivolous and fanciful distinctions have been +sufficient to kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most +violent conflicts. But the _most common_ and _durable_ source +of factions has been the various and unequal distribution of property." + +Madison's theory, therefore, is that the propensity to faction may be +kindled by religious or political opinions, by leaders, but most +commonly by the distribution of property. Yet note that Madison claims +only that men are divided by their relation to property. He does not +say that their property and their opinions are cause and effect, but +that differences of property are the causes of differences of opinion. +The pivotal word in Madison's argument is "different." From the +existence of differing economic situations you can tentatively infer a +probable difference of opinions, but you cannot infer what those +opinions will necessarily be. + +This reservation cuts radically into the claims of the theory as that +theory is usually held. That the reservation is necessary, the +enormous contradiction between dogma and practice among orthodox +socialists bears witness. They argue that the next stage in social +evolution is the inevitable result of the present stage. But in order +to produce that inevitable next stage they organize and agitate to +produce "class consciousness." Why, one asks, does not the economic +situation produce consciousness of class in everybody? It just +doesn't, that is all. And therefore the proud claim will not stand +that the socialist philosophy rests on prophetic insight into destiny. +It rests on an hypothesis about human nature. [Footnote: _Cf._ +Thorstein Veblen, "The Socialist Economics of Karl Marx and His +Followers," in _The Place of Science in Modern Civilization,_ +esp. pp. 413-418.] + +The socialist practice is based on a belief that if men are +economically situated in different ways, they can then be induced to +hold certain views. Undoubtedly they often come to believe, or can be +induced to believe different things, as they are, for example, +landlords or tenants, employees or employers, skilled or unskilled +laborers, wageworkers or salaried men, buyers or sellers, farmers or +middle-men, exporters or importers, creditors or debtors. Differences +of income make a profound difference in contact and opportunity. Men +who work at machines will tend, as Mr. Thorstein Veblen has so +brilliantly demonstrated, [Footnote: _The Theory of Business +Enterprise_.] to interpret experience differently from handicraftsmen +or traders. If this were all that the materialistic conception of politics +asserted, the theory would be an immensely valuable hypothesis that +every interpreter of opinion would have to use. But he would often +have to abandon the theory, and he would always have to be on +guard. For in trying to explain a certain public opinion, it is rarely +obvious which of a man's many social relations is effecting a particular +opinion. Does Smith's opinion arise from his problems as a landlord, +an importer, an owner of railway shares, or an employer? Does +Jones's opinion, Jones being a weaver in a textile mill, come from +the attitude of his boss, the competition of new immigrants, his wife's +grocery bills, or the ever present contract with the firm which is +selling him a Ford car and a house and lot on the instalment plan? +Without special inquiry you cannot tell. The economic determinist +cannot tell. + +A man's various economic contacts limit or enlarge the range of his +opinions. But which of the contacts, in what guise, on what theory, +the materialistic conception of politics cannot predict. It can +predict, with a high degree of probability, that if a man owns a +factory, his ownership will figure in those opinions which seem to +have some bearing on that factory. But how the function of being an +owner will figure, no economic determinist as such, can tell you. +There is no fixed set of opinions on any question that go with being +the owner of a factory, no views on labor, on property, on management, +let alone views on less immediate matters. The determinist can predict +that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the owner will resist +attempts to deprive him of ownership, or that he will favor +legislation which he thinks will increase his profits. But since there +is no magic in ownership which enables a business man to know what +laws will make him prosper, there is no chain of cause and effect +described in economic materialism which enables anyone to prophesy +whether the owner will take a long view or a short one, a competitive +or a cooperative. + +Did the theory have the validity which is so often claimed for it, it +would enable us to prophesy. We could analyze the economic interests +of a people, and deduce what the people was bound to do. Marx tried +that, and after a good guess about the trusts, went wholly wrong. The +first socialist experiment came, not as he predicted, out of the +culmination of capitalist development in the West, but out of the +collapse of a pre-capitalist system in the East. Why did he go wrong? +Why did his greatest disciple, Lenin, go wrong? Because the Marxians +thought that men's economic position would irresistibly produce a +clear conception of their economic interests. They thought they +themselves possessed that clear conception, and that what they knew +the rest of mankind would learn. The event has shown, not only that a +clear conception of interest does not arise automatically in everyone, +but that it did not arise even in Marx and Lenin themselves. After all +that Marx and Lenin have written, the social behavior of mankind is +still obscure. It ought not to be, if economic position alone +determined public opinion. Position ought, if their theory were +correct, not only to divide mankind into classes, but to supply each +class with a view of its interest and a coherent policy for obtaining +it. Yet nothing is more certain than that all classes of men are in +constant perplexity as to what their interests are. [Footnote: As a +matter of fact, when it came to the test, Lenin completely abandoned +the materialistic interpretation of politics. Had he held sincerely to +the Marxian formula when he seized power in 1917, he would have said +to himself: according to the teachings of Marx, socialism will develop +out of a mature capitalism... here am I, in control of a nation that +is only entering upon a capitalist development... it is true that I am +a socialist, but I am a scientific socialist... it follows that for +the present all idea of a socialist republic is out of the question... +we must advance capitalism in order that the evolution which Marx +predicted may take place. But Lenin did nothing of the sort. Instead +of waiting for evolution to evolve, he tried by will, force, and +education, to defy the historical process which his philosophy +assumed. + +Since this was written Lenin has abandoned communism on the ground +that Russia does not possess the necessary basis in a mature +capitalism. He now says that Russia must create capitalism, which will +create a proletariat, which will some day create communism. This is at +least consistent with Marxist dogma. But it shows how little +determinism there is in the opinions of a determinist.] + +This dissolves the impact of economic determinism. For if our economic +interests are made up of our variable concepts of those interests, +then as the master key to social processes the theory fails. That +theory assumes that men are capable of adopting only one version of +their interest, and that having adopted it, they move fatally to +realize it. It assumes the existence of a specific class interest. +That assumption is false. A class interest can be conceived largely or +narrowly, selfishly or unselfishly, in the light of no facts, some +facts, many facts, truth and error. And so collapses the Marxian +remedy for class conflicts. That remedy assumes that if all property +could be held in common, class differences would disappear. The +assumption is false. Property might well be held in common, and yet +not be conceived as a whole. The moment any group of people failed to +see communism in a communist manner, they would divide into classes on +the basis of what they saw. + +In respect to the existing social order Marxian socialism emphasizes +property conflict as the maker of opinion, in respect to the loosely +defined working class it ignores property conflict as the basis of +agitation, in respect to the future it imagines a society without +property conflict, and, therefore, without conflict of opinion. Now in +the existing social order there may be more instances where one man +must lose if another is to gain, than there would be under socialism, +but for every case where one must lose for another to gain, there are +endless cases where men simply imagine the conflict because they are +uneducated. And under socialism, though you removed every instance of +absolute conflict, the partial access of each man to the whole range +of facts would nevertheless create conflict. A socialist state will +not be able to dispense with education, morality, or liberal science, +though on strict materialistic grounds the communal ownership of +properties ought to make them superfluous. The communists in Russia +would not propagate their faith with such unflagging zeal if economic +determinism were alone determining the opinion of the Russian people. + +5 + +The socialist theory of human nature is, like the hedonistic calculus, +an example of false determinism. Both assume that the unlearned +dispositions fatally but intelligently produce a certain type of +behavior. The socialist believes that the dispositions pursue the +economic interest of a class; the hedonist believes that they pursue +pleasure and avoid pain. Both theories rest on a naive view of +instinct, a view, defined by James, [Footnote: _Principles of +Psychology_, Vol. II, p. 383.] though radically qualified by him, +as "the faculty of acting in such a way as to produce certain ends, +without foresight of the ends and without previous education in the +performance." + +It is doubtful whether instinctive action of this sort figures at all +in the social life of mankind. For as James pointed out: [Footnote: +_Op. cit._, Vol. II, p. 390.] "every instinctive act in an animal +with memory must cease to be 'blind' after being once repeated." +Whatever the equipment at birth, the innate dispositions are from +earliest infancy immersed in experience which determines what shall +excite them as stimulus. "They become capable," as Mr. McDougall +says, [Footnote: Introduction to _Social Psychology_, Fourth +Edition, pp. 31-32.] "of being initiated, not only by the perception +of objects of the kind which directly excite the innate disposition, +the natural or native excitants of the instinct, but also by ideas of +such objects, and by perceptions and by ideas of objects of other +kinds." [Footnote: "Most definitions of instincts and instinctive +actions take account only of their conative aspects... and it is a +common mistake to ignore the cognitive and affective aspects of the +instinctive mental process." Footnote _op. cit._, p. 29.] + +It is only the "central part of the disposition" [Footnote: p. 34.] +says Mr. McDougall further, "that retains its specific character and +remains common to all individuals and all situations in which the +instinct is excited." The cognitive processes, and the actual bodily +movements by which the instinct achieves its end may be indefinitely +complicated. In other words, man has an instinct of fear, but what he +will fear and how he will try to escape, is determined not from birth, +but by experience. + +If it were not for this variability, it would be difficult to conceive +the inordinate variety of human nature. But when you consider that all +the important tendencies of the creature, his appetites, his loves, +his hates, his curiosity, his sexual cravings, his fears, and +pugnacity, are freely attachable to all sorts of objects as stimulus, +and to all kinds of objects as gratification, the complexity of human +nature is not so inconceivable. And when you think that each new +generation is the casual victim of the way a previous generation was +conditioned, as well as the inheritor of the environment that +resulted, the possible combinations and permutations are enormous. + +There is no prima facie case then for supposing that because persons +crave some particular thing, or behave in some particular way, human +nature is fatally constituted to crave that and act thus. The craving +and the action are both learned, and in another generation might be +learned differently. Analytic psychology and social history unite in +supporting this conclusion. Psychology indicates how essentially +casual is the nexus between the particular stimulus and the particular +response. Anthropology in the widest sense reinforces the view by +demonstrating that the things which have excited men's passions, and +the means which they have used to realize them, differ endlessly from +age to age and from place to place. + +Men pursue their interest. But how they shall pursue it is not fatally +determined, and, therefore, within whatever limits of time this planet +will continue to support human life, man can set no term upon the +creative energies of men. He can issue no doom of automatism. He can +say, if he must, that for his life there will be no changes which he +can recognize as good. But in saying that he will be confining his +life to what he can see with his eye, rejecting what he might see with +his mind; he will be taking as the measure of good a measure which is +only the one he happens to possess. He can find no ground for +abandoning his highest hopes and relaxing his conscious effort unless +he chooses to regard the unknown as the unknowable, unless he elects +to believe that what no one knows no one will know, and that what +someone has not yet learned no one will ever be able to teach. + + + + +PART V + +THE MAKING OF A COMMON WILL + +CHAPTER 13. THE TRANSFER OF INTEREST + " 14. YES OR NO + " 15. LEADERS AND THE RANK AND FILE + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE TRANSFER OF INTEREST + +This goes to show that there are many variables in each man's +impressions of the invisible world. The points of contact vary, the +stereotyped expectations vary, the interest enlisted varies most +subtly of all. The living impressions of a large number of people are +to an immeasurable degree personal in each of them, and unmanageably +complex in the mass. How, then, is any practical relationship +established between what is in people's heads and what is out there +beyond their ken in the environment? How in the language of democratic +theory, do great numbers of people feeling each so privately about so +abstract a picture, develop any common will? How does a simple and +constant idea emerge from this complex of variables? How are those +things known as the Will of the People, or the National Purpose, or +Public Opinion crystallized out of such fleeting and casual imagery? + +That there is a real difficulty here was shown by an angry tilt in the +spring of 1921 between the American Ambassador to England and a very +large number of other Americans. Mr. Harvey, speaking at a British +dinner table, had assured the world without the least sign of +hesitancy what were the motives of Americans in 1917. [Footnote: _New +York Times_, May 20, 1921.] As he described them, they were not the +motives which President Wilson had insisted upon when _he_ +enunciated the American mind. Now, of course, neither Mr. Harvey nor +Mr. Wilson, nor the critics and friends of either, nor any one else, +can know quantitatively and qualitatively what went on in thirty or +forty million adult minds. But what everybody knows is that a war was +fought and won by a multitude of efforts, stimulated, no one knows in +what proportion, by the motives of Wilson and the motives of Harvey +and all kinds of hybrids of the two. People enlisted and fought, +worked, paid taxes, sacrificed to a common end, and yet no one can +begin to say exactly what moved each person to do each thing that he +did. It is no use, then, Mr. Harvey telling a soldier who thought this +was a war to end war that the soldier did not think any such thing. +The soldier who thought that _thought that_. And Mr. Harvey, who +thought something else, thought _something else_. + +In the same speech Mr. Harvey formulated with equal clarity what the +voters of 1920 had in their minds. That is a rash thing to do, and, if +you simply assume that all who voted your ticket voted as you did, +then it is a disingenuous thing to do. The count shows that sixteen +millions voted Republican, and nine millions Democratic. They voted, +says Mr. Harvey, for and against the League of Nations, and in support +of this claim, he can point to Mr. Wilson's request for a referendum, +and to the undeniable fact that the Democratic party and Mr. Cox +insisted that the League was the issue. But then, saying that the +League was the issue did not make the League the issue, and by +counting the votes on election day you do not know the real division +of opinion about the League. There were, for example, nine million +Democrats. Are you entitled to believe that all of them are staunch +supporters of the League? Certainly you are not. For your knowledge of +American politics tells you that many of the millions voted, as they +always do, to maintain the existing social system in the South, and +that whatever their views on the League, they did not vote to express +their views. Those who wanted the League were no doubt pleased that +the Democratic party wanted it too. Those who disliked the League may +have held their noses as they voted. But both groups of Southerners +voted the same ticket. + +Were the Republicans more unanimous? Anybody can pick Republican +voters enough out of his circle of friends to cover the whole gamut of +opinion from the irreconcilability of Senators Johnson and Knox to the +advocacy of Secretary Hoover and Chief Justice Taft. No one can say +definitely how many people felt in any particular way about the +League, nor how many people let their feelings on that subject +determine their vote. When there are only two ways of expressing a +hundred varieties of feeling, there is no certain way of knowing what +the decisive combination was. Senator Borah found in the Republican +ticket a reason for voting Republican, but so did President Lowell. +The Republican majority was composed of men and women who thought a +Republican victory would kill the League, plus those who thought it +the most practical way to secure the League, plus those who thought it +the surest way offered to obtain an amended League. All these voters +were inextricably entangled with their own desire, or the desire of +other voters to improve business, or put labor in its place, or to +punish the Democrats for going to war, or to punish them for not +having gone sooner, or to get rid of Mr. Burleson, or to improve the +price of wheat, or to lower taxes, or to stop Mr. Daniels from +outbuilding the world, or to help Mr. Harding do the same thing. + +And yet a sort of decision emerged; Mr. Harding moved into the White +House. For the least common denominator of all the votes was that the +Democrats should go and the Republicans come in. That was the only +factor remaining after all the contradictions had cancelled each other +out. But that factor was enough to alter policy for four years. The +precise reasons why change was desired on that November day in 1920 +are not recorded, not even in the memories of the individual voters. +The reasons are not fixed. They grow and change and melt into other +reasons, so that the public opinions Mr. Harding has to deal with are +not the opinions that elected him. That there is no inevitable +connection between an assortment of opinions and a particular line of +action everyone saw in 1916. Elected apparently on the cry that he +kept us out of war, Mr. Wilson within five months led the country into +war. + +The working of the popular will, therefore, has always called for +explanation. Those who have been most impressed by its erratic working +have found a prophet in M. LeBon, and have welcomed generalizations +about what Sir Robert Peel called "that great compound of folly, +weakness, prejudice, wrong feeling, right feeling, obstinacy and +newspaper paragraphs which is called public opinion." Others have +concluded that since out of drift and incoherence, settled aims do +appear, there must be a mysterious contrivance at work somewhere over +and above the inhabitants of a nation. They invoke a collective soul, +a national mind, a spirit of the age which imposes order upon random +opinion. An oversoul seems to be needed, for the emotions and ideas in +the members of a group do not disclose anything so simple and so +crystalline as the formula which those same individuals will accept as +a true statement of their Public Opinion. + +2 + +But the facts can, I think, be explained more convincingly without the +help of the oversoul in any of its disguises. After all, the art of +inducing all sorts of people who think differently to vote alike is +practiced in every political campaign. In 1916, for example, the +Republican candidate had to produce Republican votes out of many +different kinds of Republicans. Let us look at Mr. Hughes' first +speech after accepting the nomination. [Footnote: Delivered at Carnegie +Hall, New York City, July 31, 1916.] The context is still clear enough +in our minds to obviate much explanation; yet the issues are no longer +contentious. The candidate was a man of unusually plain speech, who +had been out of politics for several years and was not personally +committed on the issues of the recent past. He had, moreover, none of +that wizardry which popular leaders like Roosevelt, Wilson, or Lloyd +George possess, none of that histrionic gift by which such men +impersonate the feelings of their followers. From that aspect of +politics he was by temperament and by training remote. But yet he knew +by calculation what the politician's technic is. He was one of those +people who know just how to do a thing, but who can not quite do it +themselves. They are often better teachers than the virtuoso to whom +the art is so much second nature that he himself does not know how he +does it. The statement that those who can, do; those who cannot, +teach, is not nearly so much of a reflection on the teacher as it +sounds. + +Mr. Hughes knew the occasion was momentous, and he had prepared his +manuscript carefully. In a box sat Theodore Roosevelt just back from +Missouri. All over the house sat the veterans of Armageddon in various +stages of doubt and dismay. On the platform and in the other boxes the +ex-whited sepulchres and ex-second-story men of 1912 were to be seen, +obviously in the best of health and in a melting mood. Out beyond the +hall there were powerful pro-Germans and powerful pro-Allies; a war +party in the East and in the big cities; a peace party in the middle +and far West. There was strong feeling about Mexico. Mr. Hughes had to +form a majority against the Democrats out of people divided into all +sorts of combinations on Taft vs. Roosevelt, pro-Germans vs. +pro-Allies, war vs. neutrality, Mexican intervention vs. +non-intervention. + +About the morality or the wisdom of the affair we are, of course, not +concerned here. Our only interest is in the method by which a leader +of heterogeneous opinion goes about the business of securing a +homogeneous vote. + +"This _representative_ gathering is a happy augury. It means the +strength of _reunion._ It means that the party of _Lincoln_ +is restored...." + +The italicized words are binders: _Lincoln_ in such a speech has +of course, no relation to Abraham Lincoln. It is merely a stereotype +by which the piety which surrounds that name can be transferred to the +Republican candidate who now stands in his shoes. Lincoln reminds the +Republicans, Bull Moose and Old Guard, that before the schism they had +a common history. About the schism no one can afford to speak. But it +is there, as yet unhealed. + +The speaker must heal it. Now the schism of 1912 had arisen over +domestic questions; the reunion of 1916 was, as Mr. Roosevelt had +declared, to be based on a common indignation against Mr. Wilson's +conduct of international affairs. But international affairs were also +a dangerous source of conflict. It was necessary to find an opening +subject which would not only ignore 1912 but would avoid also the +explosive conflicts of 1916. The speaker skilfully selected the spoils +system in diplomatic appointments. "Deserving Democrats" was a +discrediting phrase, and Mr. Hughes at once evokes it. The record +being indefensible, there is no hesitation in the vigor of the attack. +Logically it was an ideal introduction to a common mood. + +Mr. Hughes then turns to Mexico, beginning with an historical review. +He had to consider the general sentiment that affairs were going badly +in Mexico; also, a no less general sentiment that war should be +avoided; and two powerful currents of opinion, one of which said +President Wilson was right in not recognizing Huerta, the other which +preferred Huerta to Carranza, and intervention to both. Huerta was the +first sore spot in the record... + +"He was certainly in fact the head of the Government in Mexico." + +But the moralists who regarded Huerta as a drunken murderer had to be +placated. + +"Whether or not he should be recognized was a question to be +determined in the exercise of a sound discretion, but according to +correct principles." + +So instead of saying that Huerta should have been recognized, the +candidate says that correct principles ought to be applied. Everybody +believes in correct principles, and everybody, of course, believes he +possesses them. To blur the issue still further President Wilson's +policy is described as "intervention." It was that in law, perhaps, +but not in the sense then currently meant by the word. By stretching +the word to cover what Mr. Wilson had done, as well as what the real +interventionists wanted, the issue between the two factions was to be +repressed. + +Having got by the two explosive points "_Huerta_" and +"_intervention_" by letting the words mean all things to all men, +the speech passes for a while to safer ground. The candidate tells the +story of Tampico, Vera Cruz, Villa, Santa Ysabel, Columbus and +Carrizal. Mr. Hughes is specific, either because the facts as known +from the newspapers are irritating, or because the true explanation +is, as for example in regard to Tampico, too complicated. No contrary +passions could be aroused by such a record. But at the end the +candidate had to take a position. His audience expected it. The +indictment was Mr. Roosevelt's. Would Mr. Hughes adopt his remedy, +intervention? + +"The nation has no policy of aggression toward Mexico. We have no +desire for any part of her territory. We wish her to have peace, +stability and prosperity. We should be ready to aid her in binding up +her wounds, in relieving her from starvation and distress, in giving +her in every practicable way the benefits of our disinterested +friendship. The conduct of this administration has created +difficulties which we shall have to surmount.... _We shall have to +adopt a new policy,_ a policy of _firmness_ and consistency +through which alone we can promote an enduring _friendship._" + +The theme friendship is for the non-interventionists, the theme "new +policy" and "firmness" is for the interventionists. On the +non-contentious record, the detail is overwhelming; on the issue +everything is cloudy. + +Concerning the European war Mr. Hughes employed an ingenious formula: + +"I stand for the unflinching maintenance of _all_ American rights +on land and sea." + +In order to understand the force of that statement at the time it was +spoken, we must remember how each faction during the period of +neutrality believed that the nations it opposed in Europe were alone +violating American rights. Mr. Hughes seemed to say to the pro-Allies: +I would have coerced Germany. But the pro-Germans had been insisting +that British sea power was violating most of our rights. The formula +covers two diametrically opposed purposes by the symbolic phrase +"American rights." + +But there was the Lusitania. Like the 1912 schism, it was an +invincible obstacle to harmony. + +"... I am confident that there would have been no destruction of +American lives by the sinking of the Lusitania." + +Thus, what cannot be compromised must be obliterated, when there is a +question on which we cannot all hope to get together, let us pretend +that it does not exist. About the future of American relations with +Europe Mr. Hughes was silent. Nothing he could say would possibly +please the two irreconcilable factions for whose support he was +bidding. + +It is hardly necessary to say that Mr. Hughes did not invent this +technic and did not employ it with the utmost success. But he +illustrated how a public opinion constituted out of divergent opinions +is clouded; how its meaning approaches the neutral tint formed out of +the blending of many colors. Where superficial harmony is the aim and +conflict the fact, obscurantism in a public appeal is the usual +result. Almost always vagueness at a crucial point in public debate is +a symptom of cross-purposes. + +3 + +But how is it that a vague idea so often has the power to unite deeply +felt opinions? These opinions, we recall, however deeply they may be +felt, are not in continual and pungent contact with the facts they +profess to treat. On the unseen environment, Mexico, the European war, +our grip is slight though our feeling may be intense. The original +pictures and words which aroused it have not anything like the force +of the feeling itself. The account of what has happened out of sight +and hearing in a place where we have never been, has not and never can +have, except briefly as in a dream or fantasy, all the dimensions of +reality. But it can arouse all, and sometimes even more emotion than +the reality. For the trigger can be pulled by more than one stimulus. + +The stimulus which originally pulled the trigger may have been a +series of pictures in the mind aroused by printed or spoken words. +These pictures fade and are hard to keep steady; their contours and +their pulse fluctuate. Gradually the process sets in of knowing what +you feel without being entirely certain why you feel it. The fading +pictures are displaced by other pictures, and then by names or +symbols. But the emotion goes on, capable now of being aroused by the +substituted images and names. Even in severe thinking these +substitutions take place, for if a man is trying to compare two +complicated situations, he soon finds exhausting the attempt to hold +both fully in mind in all their detail. He employs a shorthand of +names and signs and samples. He has to do this if he is to advance at +all, because he cannot carry the whole baggage in every phrase through +every step he takes. But if he forgets that he has substituted and +simplified, he soon lapses into verbalism, and begins to talk about +names regardless of objects. And then he has no way of knowing when +the name divorced from its first thing is carrying on a misalliance +with some other thing. It is more difficult still to guard against +changelings in casual politics. + +For by what is known to psychologists as conditioned response, an +emotion is not attached merely to one idea. There are no end of things +which can arouse the emotion, and no end of things which can satisfy +it. This is particularly true where the stimulus is only dimly and +indirectly perceived, and where the objective is likewise indirect. +For you can associate an emotion, say fear, first with something +immediately dangerous, then with the idea of that thing, then with +something similar to that idea, and so on and on. The whole structure +of human culture is in one respect an elaboration of the stimuli and +responses of which the original emotional capacities remain a fairly +fixed center. No doubt the quality of emotion has changed in the +course of history, but with nothing like the speed, or elaboration, +that has characterized the conditioning of it. + +People differ widely in their susceptibility to ideas. There are some +in whom the idea of a starving child in Russia is practically as vivid +as a starving child within sight. There are others who are almost +incapable of being excited by a distant idea. There are many +gradations between. And there are people who are insensitive to facts, +and aroused only by ideas. But though the emotion is aroused by the +idea, we are unable to satisfy the emotion by acting ourselves upon +the scene itself. The idea of the starving Russian child evokes a +desire to feed the child. But the person so aroused cannot feed it. He +can only give money to an impersonal organization, or to a +personification which he calls Mr. Hoover. His money does not reach +that child. It goes to a general pool from which a mass of children +are fed. And so just as the idea is second hand, so are the effects of +the action second hand. The cognition is indirect, the conation is +indirect, only the effect is immediate. Of the three parts of the +process, the stimulus comes from somewhere out of sight, the response +reaches somewhere out of sight, only the emotion exists entirely +within the person. Of the child's hunger he has only an idea, of the +child's relief he has only an idea, but of his own desire to help he +has a real experience. It is the central fact of the business, the +emotion within himself, which is first hand. + +Within limits that vary, the emotion is transferable both as regards +stimulus and response. Therefore, if among a number of people, +possessing various tendencies to respond, you can find a stimulus +which will arouse the same emotion in many of them, you can substitute +it for the original stimuli. If, for example, one man dislikes the +League, another hates Mr. Wilson, and a third fears labor, you may be +able to unite them if you can find some symbol which is the antithesis +of what they all hate. Suppose that symbol is Americanism. The first +man may read it as meaning the preservation of American isolation, or +as he may call it, independence; the second as the rejection of a +politician who clashes with his idea of what an American president +should be, the third as a call to resist revolution. The symbol in +itself signifies literally no one thing in particular, but it can be +associated with almost anything. And because of that it can become the +common bond of common feelings, even though those feelings were +originally attached to disparate ideas. + +When political parties or newspapers declare for Americanism, +Progressivism, Law and Order, Justice, Humanity, they hope to +amalgamate the emotion of conflicting factions which would surely +divide, if, instead of these symbols, they were invited to discuss a +specific program. For when a coalition around the symbol has been +effected, feeling flows toward conformity under the symbol rather than +toward critical scrutiny of the measures. It is, I think, convenient +and technically correct to call multiple phrases like these symbolic. +They do not stand for specific ideas, but for a sort of truce or +junction between ideas. They are like a strategic railroad center +where many roads converge regardless of their ultimate origin or their +ultimate destination. But he who captures the symbols by which public +feeling is for the moment contained, controls by that much the +approaches of public policy. And as long as a particular symbol has +the power of coalition, ambitious factions will fight for possession. +Think, for example, of Lincoln's name or of Roosevelt's. A leader or +an interest that can make itself master of current symbols is master +of the current situation. There are limits, of course. Too violent +abuse of the actualities which groups of people think the symbol +represents, or too great resistance in the name of that symbol to new +purposes, will, so to speak, burst the symbol. In this manner, during +the year 1917, the imposing symbol of Holy Russia and the Little +Father burst under the impact of suffering and defeat. + +4 + +The tremendous consequences of Russia's collapse were felt on all the +fronts and among all the peoples. They led directly to a striking +experiment in the crystallization of a common opinion out of the +varieties of opinion churned up by the war. The Fourteen Points were +addressed to all the governments, allied, enemy, neutral, and to all +the peoples. They were an attempt to knit together the chief +imponderables of a world war. Necessarily this was a new departure, +because this was the first great war in which all the deciding +elements of mankind could be brought to think about the same ideas, or +at least about the same names for ideas, simultaneously. Without +cable, radio, telegraph, and daily press, the experiment of the +Fourteen Points would have been impossible. It was an attempt to +exploit the modern machinery of communication to start the return to a +"common consciousness" throughout the world. + +But first we must examine some of the circumstances as they presented +themselves at the end of 1917. For in the form which the document +finally assumed, all these considerations are somehow represented. +During the summer and autumn a series of events had occurred which +profoundly affected the temper of the people and the course of the +war. In July the Russians had made a last offensive, had been +disastrously beaten, and the process of demoralization which led to +the Bolshevik revolution of November had begun. Somewhat earlier the +French had suffered a severe and almost disastrous defeat in Champagne +which produced mutinies in the army and a defeatist agitation among +the civilians. England was suffering from the effects of the submarine +raids, from the terrible losses of the Flanders battles, and in +November at Cambrai the British armies met a reverse that appalled the +troops at the front and the leaders at home. Extreme war weariness +pervaded the whole of western Europe. + +In effect, the agony and disappointment had jarred loose men's +concentration on the accepted version of the war. Their interests were +no longer held by the ordinary official pronouncements, and their +attention began to wander, fixing now upon their own suffering, now +upon their party and class purposes, now upon general resentments +against the governments. That more or less perfect organization of +perception by official propaganda, of interest and attention by the +stimuli of hope, fear, and hatred, which is called morale, was by way +of breaking down. The minds of men everywhere began to search for new +attachments that promised relief. + +Suddenly they beheld a tremendous drama. On the Eastern front there +was a Christmas truce, an end of slaughter, an end of noise, a promise +of peace. At Brest-Litovsk the dream of all simple people had come to +life: it was possible to negotiate, there was some other way to end +the ordeal than by matching lives with the enemy. Timidly, but with +rapt attention, people began to turn to the East. Why not, they asked? +What is it all for? Do the politicians know what they are doing? Are +we really fighting for what they say? Is it possible, perhaps, to +secure it without fighting? Under the ban of the censorship, little of +this was allowed to show itself in print, but, when Lord Lansdowne +spoke, there was a response from the heart. The earlier symbols of the +war had become hackneyed, and had lost their power to unify. Beneath +the surface a wide schism was opening up in each Allied country. + +Something similar was happening in Central Europe. There too the +original impulse of the war was weakened; the union sacree was broken. +The vertical cleavages along the battle front were cut across by +horizontal divisions running in all kinds of unforeseeable ways. The +moral crisis of the war had arrived before the military decision was +in sight. All this President Wilson and his advisers realized. They +had not, of course, a perfect knowledge of the situation, but what I +have sketched they knew. + +They knew also that the Allied Governments were bound by a series of +engagements that in letter and in spirit ran counter to the popular +conception of what the war was about. The resolutions of the Paris +Economic Conference were, of course, public property, and the network +of secret treaties had been published by the Bolsheviks in November of +1917. [Footnote: President Wilson stated at his conference with the +Senators that he had never heard of these treaties until he reached +Paris. That statement is perplexing. The Fourteen Points, as the text +shows, could not have been formulated without a knowledge of the +secret treaties. The substance of those treaties was before the +President when he and Colonel House prepared the final published text +of the Fourteen Points.] Their terms were only vaguely known to the +peoples, but it was definitely believed that they did not comport with +the idealistic slogan of self-determination, no annexations and no +indemnities. Popular questioning took the form of asking how many +thousand English lives Alsace-Lorraine or Dalmatia were worth, how +many French lives Poland or Mesopotamia were worth. Nor was such +questioning entirely unknown in America. The whole Allied cause had +been put on the defensive by the refusal to participate at +Brest-Litovsk. + +Here was a highly sensitive state of mind which no competent leader +could fail to consider. The ideal response would have been joint +action by the Allies. That was found to be impossible when it was +considered at the Interallied Conference of October. But by December +the pressure had become so great that Mr. George and Mr. Wilson were +moved independently to make some response. The form selected by the +President was a statement of peace terms under fourteen heads. The +numbering of them was an artifice to secure precision, and to create +at once the impression that here was a business-like document. The +idea of stating "peace terms" instead of "war aims" arose from the +necessity of establishing a genuine alternative to the Brest-Litovsk +negotiations. They were intended to compete for attention by +substituting for the spectacle of Russo-German parleys the much +grander spectacle of a public world-wide debate. + +Having enlisted the interest of the world, it was necessary to hold +that interest unified and flexible for all the different possibilities +which the situation contained. The terms had to be such that the +majority among the Allies would regard them as worth while. They had +to meet the national aspirations of each people, and yet to limit +those aspirations so that no one nation would regard itself as a +catspaw for another. The terms had to satisfy official interests so as +not to provoke official disunion, and yet they had to meet popular +conceptions so as to prevent the spread of demoralization. They had, +in short, to preserve and confirm Allied unity in case the war was to +go on. + +But they had also to be the terms of a possible peace, so that in case +the German center and left were ripe for agitation, they would have a +text with which to smite the governing class. The terms had, +therefore, to push the Allied governors nearer to their people, drive +the German governors away from their people, and establish a line of +common understanding between the Allies, the non-official Germans, and +the subject peoples of Austria-Hungary. The Fourteen Points were a +daring attempt to raise a standard to which almost everyone might +repair. If a sufficient number of the enemy people were ready there +would be peace; if not, then the Allies would be better prepared to +sustain the shock of war. + +All these considerations entered into the making of the Fourteen +Points. No one man may have had them all in mind, but all the men +concerned had some of them in mind. Against this background let us +examine certain aspects of the document. The first five points and the +fourteenth deal with "open diplomacy," "freedom of the seas," "equal +trade opportunities," "reduction of armaments," no imperialist +annexation of colonies, and the League of Nations. They might be +described as a statement of the popular generalizations in which +everyone at that time professed to believe. But number three is more +specific. It was aimed consciously and directly at the resolutions of +the Paris Economic Conference, and was meant to relieve the German +people of their fear of suffocation. + +Number six is the first point dealing with a particular nation. It was +intended as a reply to Russian suspicion of the Allies, and the +eloquence of its promises was attuned to the drama of Brest-Litovsk. +Number seven deals with Belgium, and is as unqualified in form and +purpose as was the conviction of practically the whole world, +including very large sections of Central Europe. Over number eight we +must pause. It begins with an absolute demand for evacuation and +restoration of French territory, and then passes on to the question of +Alsace-Lorraine. The phrasing of this clause most perfectly +illustrates the character of a public statement which must condense a +vast complex of interests in a few words. "And the wrong done to +France by Prussia in 1871 in the matter of Alsace-Lorraine, which has +unsettled the peace of the world for nearly fifty years, should be +righted. ..." Every word here was chosen with meticulous care. The +wrong done should be righted; why not say that Alsace-Lorraine should +be restored? It was not said, because it was not certain that all of +the French _at that time_ would fight on indefinitely for +reannexation if they were offered a plebiscite; and because it was +even less certain whether the English and Italians would fight on. The +formula had, therefore, to cover both contingencies. The word +"righted" guaranteed satisfaction to France, but did not read as a +commitment to simple annexation. But why speak of the wrong done by +_Prussia_ in _1871_? The word Prussia was, of course, intended +to remind the South Germans that Alsace-Lorraine belonged not to +them but to Prussia. Why speak of peace unsettled for "fifty years," +and why the use of "1871"? In the first place, what the French and +the rest of the world remembered was 1871. That was the nodal +point of their grievance. But the formulators of the Fourteen Points +knew that French officialdom planned for more than the Alsace-Lorraine +of 1871. The secret memoranda that had passed between the Czar's +ministers and French officials in 1916 covered the annexation of the +Saar Valley and some sort of dismemberment of the Rhineland. It was +planned to include the Saar Valley under the term "Alsace-Lorraine" +because it had been part of Alsace-Lorraine in 1814, though it had +been detached in 1815, and was no part of the territory at the close +of the Franco-Prussian war. The official French formula for annexing +the Saar was to subsume it under "Alsace-Lorraine" meaning the +Alsace-Lorraine of 1814-1815. By insistence on "1871" the President +was really defining the ultimate boundary between Germany and France, +was adverting to the secret treaty, and was casting it aside. + +Number nine, a little less subtly, does the same thing in respect to +Italy. "Clearly recognizable lines of nationality" are exactly what +the lines of the Treaty of London were not. Those lines were partly +strategic, partly economic, partly imperialistic, partly ethnic. The +only part of them that could possibly procure allied sympathy was that +which would recover the genuine Italia Irredenta. All the rest, as +everyone who was informed knew, merely delayed the impending Jugoslav +revolt. + +5 + +It would be a mistake to suppose that the apparently unanimous +enthusiasm which greeted the Fourteen Points represented agreement on +a program. Everyone seemed to find something that he liked and +stressed this aspect and that detail. But no one risked a discussion. +The phrases, so pregnant with the underlying conflicts of the +civilized world, were accepted. They stood for opposing ideas, but +they evoked a common emotion. And to that extent they played a part in +rallying the western peoples for the desperate ten months of war which +they had still to endure. + +As long as the Fourteen Points dealt with that hazy and happy future +when the agony was to be over, the real conflicts of interpretation +were not made manifest. They were plans for the settlement of a wholly +invisible environment, and because these plans inspired all groups +each with its own private hope, all hopes ran together as a public +hope. For harmonization, as we saw in Mr. Hughes's speech, is a +hierarchy of symbols. As you ascend the hierarchy in order to include +more and more factions you may for a time preserve the emotional +connection though you lose the intellectual. But even the emotion +becomes thinner. As you go further away from experience, you go higher +into generalization or subtlety. As you go up in the balloon you throw +more and more concrete objects overboard, and when you have reached +the top with some phrase like the Rights of Humanity or the World Made +Safe for Democracy, you see far and wide, but you see very little. Yet +the people whose emotions are entrained do not remain passive. As the +public appeal becomes more and more all things to all men, as the +emotion is stirred while the meaning is dispersed, their very private +meanings are given a universal application. Whatever you want badly is +the Rights of Humanity. For the phrase, ever more vacant, capable of +meaning almost anything, soon comes to mean pretty nearly everything. +Mr. Wilson's phrases were understood in endlessly different ways in +every corner of the earth. No document negotiated and made of public +record existed to correct the confusion. [Footnote: The American +interpretation of the fourteen points was explained to the allied +statesmen just before the armistice.] And so, when the day of +settlement came, everybody expected everything. The European authors +of the treaty had a large choice, and they chose to realize those +expectations which were held by those of their countrymen who wielded +the most power at home. + +They came down the hierarchy from the Rights of Humanity to the Rights +of France, Britain and Italy. They did not abandon the use of symbols. +They abandoned only those which after the war had no permanent roots +in the imagination of their constituents. They preserved the unity of +France by the use of symbolism, but they would not risk anything for +the unity of Europe. The symbol France was deeply attached, the symbol +Europe had only a recent history. Nevertheless the distinction between +an omnibus like Europe and a symbol like France is not sharp. The +history of states and empires reveals times when the scope of the +unifying idea increases and also times when it shrinks. One cannot say +that men have moved consistently from smaller loyalties to larger +ones, because the facts will not bear out the claim. The Roman Empire +and the Holy Roman Empire bellied out further than those national +unifications in the Nineteenth Century from which believers in a World +State argue by analogy. Nevertheless, it is probably true that the +real integration has increased regardless of the temporary inflation +and deflation of empires. + +6 + +Such a real integration has undoubtedly occurred in American history. +In the decade before 1789 most men, it seems, felt that their state +and their community were real, but that the confederation of states +was unreal. The idea of their state, its flag, its most conspicuous +leaders, or whatever it was that represented Massachusetts, or +Virginia, were genuine symbols. That is to say, they were fed by +actual experiences from childhood, occupation, residence, and the +like. The span of men's experience had rarely traversed the imaginary +boundaries of their states. The word Virginian was related to pretty +nearly everything that most Virginians had ever known or felt. It was +the most extensive political idea which had genuine contact with their +experience. + +Their experience, not their needs. For their needs arose out of their +real environment, which in those days was at least as large as the +thirteen colonies. They needed a common defense. They needed a +financial and economic regime as extensive as the Confederation. But +as long as the pseudo-environment of the state encompassed them, the +state symbols exhausted their political interest. An interstate idea, +like the Confederation, represented a powerless abstraction. It was an +omnibus, rather than a symbol, and the harmony among divergent groups, +which the omnibus creates, is transient. + +I have said that the idea of confederation was a powerless +abstraction. Yet the need of unity existed in the decade before the +Constitution was adopted. The need existed, in the sense that affairs +were askew unless the need of unity was taken into account. Gradually +certain classes in each colony began to break through the state +experience. Their personal interests led across the state lines to +interstate experiences, and gradually there was constructed in their +minds a picture of the American environment which was truly national +in scope. For them the idea of federation became a true symbol, and +ceased to be an omnibus. The most imaginative of these men was +Alexander Hamilton. It happened that he had no primitive attachment to +any one state, for he was born in the West Indies, and had, from the +very beginning of his active life, been associated with the common +interests of all the states. Thus to most men of the time the question +of whether the capital should be in Virginia or in Philadelphia was of +enormous importance, because they were locally minded. To Hamilton +this question was of no emotional consequence; what he wanted was the +assumption of the state debts because they would further nationalize +the proposed union. So he gladly traded the site of the capitol for +two necessary votes from men who represented the Potomac district. To +Hamilton the Union was a symbol that represented all his interests and +his whole experience; to White and Lee from the Potomac, the symbol of +their province was the highest political entity they served, and they +served it though they hated to pay the price. They agreed, says +Jefferson, to change their votes, "White with a revulsion of stomach +almost convulsive." [Footnote: _Works,_ Vol. IX, p. 87. Cited by +Beard, _Economic Origins of Jeffersonian Democracy,_ p. 172.] + +In the crystallizing of a common will, there is always an Alexander +Hamilton at work. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +YES OR NO + +1 + +Symbols are often so useful and so mysteriously powerful that the word +itself exhales a magical glamor. In thinking about symbols it is +tempting to treat them as if they possessed independent energy. Yet no +end of symbols which once provoked ecstasy have quite ceased to affect +anybody. The museums and the books of folklore are full of dead +emblems and incantations, since there is no power in the symbol, +except that which it acquires by association in the human mind. The +symbols that have lost their power, and the symbols incessantly +suggested which fail to take root, remind us that if we were patient +enough to study in detail the circulation of a symbol, we should +behold an entirely secular history. + +In the Hughes campaign speech, in the Fourteen Points, in Hamilton's +project, symbols are employed. But they are employed by somebody at a +particular moment. The words themselves do not crystallize random +feeling. The words must be spoken by people who are strategically +placed, and they must be spoken at the opportune moment. Otherwise +they are mere wind. The symbols must be earmarked. For in themselves +they mean nothing, and the choice of possible symbols is always so +great that we should, like the donkey who stood equidistant between +two bales of hay, perish from sheer indecision among the symbols that +compete for our attention. + +Here, for example, are the reasons for their vote as stated by certain +private citizens to a newspaper just before the election of 1920. + +For Harding: + +"The patriotic men and women of to-day, who cast their ballots for +Harding and Coolidge will be held by posterity to have signed our +Second Declaration of Independence." + +Mr. Wilmot--, inventor. + +"He will see to it that the United States does not enter into +'entangling alliances,' Washington as a city will benefit by changing +the control of the government from the Democrats to the Republicans." + +Mr. Clarence--, salesman. + +For Cox: + +"The people of the United States realize that it is our duty pledged +on the fields of France, to join the League of Nations. We must +shoulder our share of the burden of enforcing peace throughout the +world." + +Miss Marie--, stenographer. + +"We should lose our own respect and the respect of other nations were +we to refuse to enter the League of Nations in obtaining international +peace." + +Mr. Spencer--, statistician. + +The two sets of phrases are equally noble, equally true, and almost +reversible. Would Clarence and Wilmot have admitted for an instant +that they intended to default in our duty pledged on the fields of +France; or that they did not desire international peace? Certainly +not. Would Marie and Spencer have admitted that they were in favor of +entangling alliances or the surrender of American independence? They +would have argued with you that the League was, as President Wilson +called it, a disentangling alliance, as well as a Declaration of +Independence for all the world, plus a Monroe Doctrine for the planet. + +2 + +Since the offering of symbols is so generous, and the meaning that can +be imputed is so elastic, how does any particular symbol take root in +any particular person's mind? It is planted there by another human +being whom we recognize as authoritative. If it is planted deeply +enough, it may be that later we shall call the person authoritative +who waves that symbol at us. But in the first instance symbols are +made congenial and important because they are introduced to us by +congenial and important people. + +For we are not born out of an egg at the age of eighteen with a +realistic imagination; we are still, as Mr. Shaw recalls, in the era +of Burge and Lubin, where in infancy we are dependent upon older +beings for our contacts. And so we make our connections with the outer +world through certain beloved and authoritative persons. They are the +first bridge to the invisible world. And though we may gradually +master for ourselves many phases of that larger environment, there +always remains a vaster one that is unknown. To that we still relate +ourselves through authorities. Where all the facts are out of sight a +true report and a plausible error read alike, sound alike, feel alike. + +Except on a few subjects where our own knowledge is great, we cannot +choose between true and false accounts. So we choose between +trustworthy and untrustworthy reporters. [Footnote: See an +interesting, rather quaint old book: George Cornewall Lewis, _An +Essay on the Influence of Authority in Matters of Opinion_.] + +Theoretically we ought to choose the most expert on each subject. But +the choice of the expert, though a good deal easier than the choice of +truth, is still too difficult and often impracticable. The experts +themselves are not in the least certain who among them is the most +expert. And at that, the expert, even when we can identify him, is, +likely as not, too busy to be consulted, or impossible to get at. But +there are people whom we can identify easily enough because they are +the people who are at the head of affairs. Parents, teachers, and +masterful friends are the first people of this sort we encounter. Into +the difficult question of why children trust one parent rather than +another, the history teacher rather than the Sunday school teacher, we +need not try to enter. Nor how trust gradually spreads through a +newspaper or an acquaintance who is interested in public affairs to +public personages. The literature of psychoanalysis is rich in +suggestive hypothesis. + +At any rate we do find ourselves trusting certain people, who +constitute our means of junction with pretty nearly the whole realm of +unknown things. Strangely enough, this fact is sometimes regarded as +inherently undignified, as evidence of our sheep-like, ape-like +nature. But complete independence in the universe is simply +unthinkable. If we could not take practically everything for granted, +we should spend our lives in utter triviality. The nearest thing to a +wholly independent adult is a hermit, and the range of a hermit's +action is very short. Acting entirely for himself, he can act only +within a tiny radius and for simple ends. If he has time to think +great thoughts we can be certain that he has accepted without +question, before he went in for being a hermit, a whole repertory of +painfully acquired information about how to keep warm and how to keep +from being hungry, and also about what the great questions are. + +On all but a very few matters for short stretches in our lives, the +utmost independence that we can exercise is to multiply the +authorities to whom we give a friendly hearing. As congenital amateurs +our quest for truth consists in stirring up the experts, and forcing +them to answer any heresy that has the accent of conviction. In such a +debate we can often judge who has won the dialectical victory, but we +are virtually defenseless against a false premise that none of the +debaters has challenged, or a neglected aspect that none of them has +brought into the argument. We shall see later how the democratic +theory proceeds on the opposite assumption and assumes for the +purposes of government an unlimited supply of self-sufficient +individuals. + +The people on whom we depend for contact with the outer world are +those who seem to be running it. [Footnote: _Cf._ Bryce, _Modern +Democracies_ Vol. II, pp. 544-545.] They may be running only a +very small part of the world. The nurse feeds the child, bathes it, and +puts it to bed. That does not constitute the nurse an authority on +physics, zoology, and the Higher Criticism. Mr. Smith runs, or at least +hires, the man who runs the factory. That does not make him an +authority on the Constitution of the United States, nor on the effects +\of the Fordney tariff. Mr. Smoot runs the Republican party in the State +of Utah. That in itself does not prove he is the best man to consult +about taxation. But the nurse may nevertheless determine for a while +what zoology the child shall learn, Mr. Smith will have much to say on +what the Constitution shall mean to his wife, his secretary, and perhaps +even to his parson, and who shall define the limits of Senator Smoot's +authority? + +The priest, the lord of the manor, the captains and the kings, the +party leaders, the merchant, the boss, however these men are chosen, +whether by birth, inheritance, conquest or election, they and their +organized following administer human affairs. They are the officers, +and although the same man may be field marshal at home, second +lieutenant at the office, and scrub private in politics, although in many +institutions the hierarchy of rank is vague or concealed, yet in every +institution that requires the cooperation of many persons, some such +hierarchy exists. [Footnote: _Cf._ M. Ostrogorski, _Democracy and the +Organization of Political Parties, passim;_ R. Michels, _Political Parties, +passim;_ and Bryce, _Modern Democracies,_ particularly Chap. +LXXV; also Ross, _Principles of Sociology,_ Chaps. XXII-XXIV. ] +In American politics we call it a machine, or "the organization." + +3 + +There are a number of important distinctions between the members of +the machine and the rank and file. The leaders, the steering committee +and the inner circle, are in direct contact with their environment. +They may, to be sure, have a very limited notion of what they ought to +define as the environment, but they are not dealing almost wholly with +abstractions. There are particular men they hope to see elected, +particular balance sheets they wish to see improved, concrete +objectives that must be attained. I do not mean that they escape the +human propensity to stereotyped vision. Their stereotypes often make +them absurd routineers. But whatever their limitations, the chiefs are +in actual contact with some crucial part of that larger environment. +They decide. They give orders. They bargain. And something definite, +perhaps not at all what they imagined, actually happens. + +Their subordinates are not tied to them by a common conviction. That +is to say the lesser members of a machine do not dispose their loyalty +according to independent judgment about the wisdom of the leaders. In +the hierarchy each is dependent upon a superior and is in turn +superior to some class of his dependents. What holds the machine +together is a system of privileges. These may vary according to the +opportunities and the tastes of those who seek them, from nepotism and +patronage in all their aspects to clannishness, hero-worship or a +fixed idea. They vary from military rank in armies, through land and +services in a feudal system, to jobs and publicity in a modern +democracy. That is why you can breakup a particular machine by +abolishing its privileges. But the machine in every coherent group is, +I believe, certain to reappear. For privilege is entirely relative, +and uniformity is impossible. Imagine the most absolute communism of +which your mind is capable, where no one possessed any object that +everyone else did not possess, and still, if the communist group had +to take any action whatever, the mere pleasure of being the friend of +the man who was going to make the speech that secured the most votes, +would, I am convinced, be enough to crystallize an organization of +insiders around him. + +It is not necessary, then, to invent a collective intelligence in +order to explain why the judgments of a group are usually more +coherent, and often more true to form than the remarks of the man in +the street. One mind, or a few can pursue a train of thought, but a +group trying to think in concert can as a group do little more than +assent or dissent. The members of a hierarchy can have a corporate +tradition. As apprentices they learn the trade from the masters, who +in turn learned it when they were apprentices, and in any enduring +society, the change of personnel within the governing hierarchies is +slow enough to permit the transmission of certain great stereotypes +and patterns of behavior. From father to son, from prelate to novice, +from veteran to cadet, certain ways of seeing and doing are taught. +These ways become familiar, and are recognized as such by the mass of +outsiders. + +4 + +Distance alone lends enchantment to the view that masses of human +beings ever cooperate in any complex affair without a central machine +managed by a very few people. "No one," says Bryce, [Footnote: _Op. +cit._, Vol. II, p. 542.] "can have had some years' experience of +the conduct of affairs in a legislature or an administration without +observing how extremely small is the number of persons by whom the +world is governed." He is referring, of course, to affairs of state. +To be sure if you consider all the affairs of mankind the number of +people who govern is considerable, but if you take any particular +institution, be it a legislature, a party, a trade union, a +nationalist movement, a factory, or a club, the number of those who +govern is a very small percentage of those who are theoretically +supposed to govern. + +Landslides can turn one machine out and put another in; revolutions +sometimes abolish a particular machine altogether. The democratic +revolution set up two alternating machines, each of which in the +course of a few years reaps the advantage from the mistakes of the +other. But nowhere does the machine disappear. Nowhere is the idyllic +theory of democracy realized. Certainly not in trades unions, nor in +socialist parties, nor in communist governments. There is an inner +circle, surrounded by concentric circles which fade out gradually into +the disinterested or uninterested rank and file. + +Democrats have never come to terms with this commonplace of group +life. They have invariably regarded it as perverse. For there are two +visions of democracy: one presupposes the self-sufficient individual; +the other an Oversoul regulating everything. + +Of the two the Oversoul has some advantage because it does at least +recognize that the mass makes decisions that are not spontaneously +born in the breast of every member. But the Oversoul as presiding +genius in corporate behavior is a superfluous mystery if we fix our +attention upon the machine. The machine is a quite prosaic reality. It +consists of human beings who wear clothes and live in houses, who can +be named and described. They perform all the duties usually assigned +to the Oversoul. + +5 + +The reason for the machine is not the perversity of human nature. It +is that out of the private notions of any group no common idea emerges +by itself. For the number of ways is limited in which a multitude of +people can act directly upon a situation beyond their reach. Some of +them can migrate, in one form or another, they can strike or boycott, +they can applaud or hiss. They can by these means occasionally resist +what they do not like, or coerce those who obstruct what they desire. +But by mass action nothing can be constructed, devised, negotiated, or +administered. A public as such, without an organized hierarchy around +which it can gather, may refuse to buy if the prices are too high, or +refuse to work if wages are too low. A trade union can by mass action +in a strike break an opposition so that the union officials can +negotiate an agreement. It may win, for example, the _right_ to +joint control. But it cannot exercise the right except through an +organization. A nation can clamor for war, but when it goes to war it +must put itself under orders from a general staff. + +The limit of direct action is for all practical purposes the power to +say Yes or No on an issue presented to the mass. [Footnote: _Cf_. +James, _Some Problems of Philosophy_, p. 227. "But for most of +our emergencies, fractional solutions are impossible. Seldom can we +act fractionally." _Cf_. Lowell, _Public Opinion and Popular +Government_, pp. 91, 92.] For only in the very simplest cases does +an issue present itself in the same form spontaneously and +approximately at the same time to all the members of a public. There +are unorganized strikes and boycotts, not merely industrial ones, +where the grievance is so plain that virtually without leadership the +same reaction takes place in many people. But even in these +rudimentary cases there are persons who know what they want to do more +quickly than the rest, and who become impromptu ringleaders. Where +they do not appear a crowd will mill about aimlessly beset by all its +private aims, or stand by fatalistically, as did a crowd of fifty +persons the other day, and watch a man commit suicide. + +For what we make out of most of the impressions that come to us from +the invisible world is a kind of pantomime played out in revery. The +number of times is small that we consciously decide anything about +events beyond our sight, and each man's opinion of what he could +accomplish if he tried, is slight. There is rarely a practical issue, +and therefore no great habit of decision. This would be more evident +were it not that most information when it reaches us carries with it +an aura of suggestion as to how we ought to feel about the news. That +suggestion we need, and if we do not find it in the news we turn to +the editorials or to a trusted adviser. The revery, if we feel +ourselves implicated, is uncomfortable until we know where we stand, +that is, until the facts have been formulated so that we can feel Yes +or No in regard to them. + +When a number of people all say Yes they may have all kinds of reasons +for saying it. They generally do. For the pictures in their minds are, +as we have already noted, varied in subtle and intimate ways. But this +subtlety remains within their minds; it becomes represented publicly +by a number of symbolic phrases which carry the individual emotion +after evacuating most of the intention. The hierarchy, or, if it is a +contest, then the two hierarchies, associate the symbols with a +definite action, a vote of Yes or No, an attitude pro or con. Then +Smith who was against the League and Jones who was against Article X, +and Brown who was against Mr. Wilson and all his works, each for his +own reason, all in the name of more or less the same symbolic phrase, +register a vote _against_ the Democrats by voting for the +Republicans. A common will has been expressed. + +A concrete choice had to be presented, the choice had to be connected, +by the transfer of interest through the symbols, with individual +opinion. The professional politicians learned this long before the +democratic philosophers. And so they organized the caucus, the +nominating convention, and the steering committee, as the means of +formulating a definite choice. Everyone who wishes to accomplish +anything that requires the cooperation of a large number of people +follows their example. Sometimes it is done rather brutally as when +the Peace Conference reduced itself to the Council of Ten, and the +Council of Ten to the Big Three or Four; and wrote a treaty which the +minor allies, their own constituents, and the enemy were permitted to +take or leave. More consultation than that is generally possible and +desirable. But the essential fact remains that a small number of heads +present a choice to a large group. + +6 + +The abuses of the steering committee have led to various proposals +such as the initiative, referendum and direct primary. But these +merely postponed or obscured the need for a machine by complicating +the elections, or as H. G. Wells once said with scrupulous accuracy, +the selections. For no amount of balloting can obviate the need of +creating an issue, be it a measure or a candidate, on which the voters +can say Yes, or No. There is, in fact, no such thing as "direct +legislation." For what happens where it is supposed to exist? The +citizen goes to the polls, receives a ballot on which a number of +measures are printed, almost always in abbreviated form, and, if he +says anything at all, he says Yes or No. The most brilliant amendment +in the world may occur to him. He votes Yes or No on that bill and no +other. You have to commit violence against the English language to +call that legislation. I do not argue, of course, that there are no +benefits, whatever you call the process. I think that for certain +kinds of issues there are distinct benefits. But the necessary +simplicity of any mass decision is a very important fact in view of +the inevitable complexity of the world in which those decisions +operate. The most complicated form of voting that anyone proposes is, +I suppose, the preferential ballot. Among a number of candidates +presented the voter under that system, instead of saying yes to one +candidate and no to all the others, states the order of his choice. +But even here, immensely more flexible though it is, the action of the +mass depends upon the quality of the choices presented. [Footnote: +_Cf._ H. J. Laski, _Foundations of Sovereignty,_ p. 224. "... +proportional representation... by leading, as it seems to lead, to the +group system... may deprive the electors of their choice of leaders." +The group system undoubtedly tends, as Mr. Laski says, to make the +selection of the executive more indirect, but there is no doubt also +that it tends to produce legislative assemblies in which currents of +opinion are more fully represented. Whether that is good or bad +cannot be determined a priori. But one can say that successful +cooperation and responsibility in a more accurately representative +assembly require a higher organization of political intelligence and +political habit, than in a rigid two-party house. It is a more complex +political form and may therefore work less well.] And those choices +are presented by the energetic coteries who hustle about with +petitions and round up the delegates. The Many can elect after the Few +have nominated. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +LEADERS AND THE RANK AND FILE + +I + +BECAUSE of their transcendent practical importance, no successful +leader has ever been too busy to cultivate the symbols which organize +his following. What privileges do within the hierarchy, symbols do for +the rank and file. They conserve unity. From the totem pole to the +national flag, from the wooden idol to God the Invisible King, from +the magic word to some diluted version of Adam Smith or Bentham, +symbols have been cherished by leaders, many of whom were themselves +unbelievers, because they were focal points where differences merged. +The detached observer may scorn the "star-spangled" ritual which +hedges the symbol, perhaps as much as the king who told himself that +Paris was worth a few masses. But the leader knows by experience that +only when symbols have done their work is there a handle he can use to +move a crowd. In the symbol emotion is discharged at a common target, +and the idiosyncrasy of real ideas blotted out. No wonder he hates +what he calls destructive criticism, sometimes called by free spirits +the elimination of buncombe. "Above all things," says Bagehot, "our +royalty is to be reverenced, and if you begin to poke about it you +cannot reverence it." [Footnote: _The English Constitution,_ p. +127. D. Appleton & Company, 1914.] For poking about with clear +definitions and candid statements serves all high purposes known to +man, except the easy conservation of a common will. Poking about, as +every responsible leader suspects, tends to break the transference of +emotion from the individual mind to the institutional symbol. And the +first result of that is, as he rightly says, a chaos of individualism +and warring sects. The disintegration of a symbol, like Holy Russia, +or the Iron Diaz, is always the beginning of a long upheaval. + +These great symbols possess by transference all the minute and +detailed loyalties of an ancient and stereotyped society. They evoke +the feeling that each individual has for the landscape, the furniture, +the faces, the memories that are his first, and in a static society, +his only reality. That core of images and devotions without which he +is unthinkable to himself, is nationality. The great symbols take up +these devotions, and can arouse them without calling forth the +primitive images. The lesser symbols of public debate, the more casual +chatter of politics, are always referred back to these proto-symbols, +and if possible associated with them. The question of a proper fare on +a municipal subway is symbolized as an issue between the People and +the Interests, and then the People is inserted in the symbol American, +so that finally in the heat of a campaign, an eight cent fare becomes +unAmerican. The Revolutionary fathers died to prevent it. Lincoln +suffered that it might not come to pass, resistance to it was implied +in the death of those who sleep in France. + +Because of its power to siphon emotion out of distinct ideas, the +symbol is both a mechanism of solidarity, and a mechanism of +exploitation. It enables people to work for a common end, but just +because the few who are strategically placed must choose the concrete +objectives, the symbol is also an instrument by which a few can fatten +on many, deflect criticism, and seduce men into facing agony for +objects they do not understand. + +Many aspects of our subjection to symbols are not flattering if we +choose to think of ourselves as realistic, self-sufficient, and +self-governing personalities. Yet it is impossible to conclude that +symbols are altogether instruments of the devil. In the realm of +science and contemplation they are undoubtedly the tempter himself. +But in the world of action they may be beneficent, and are sometimes a +necessity. The necessity is often imagined, the peril manufactured. +But when quick results are imperative, the manipulation of masses +through symbols may be the only quick way of having a critical thing +done. It is often more important to act than to understand. It is +sometimes true that the action would fail if everyone understood it. +There are many affairs which cannot wait for a referendum or endure +publicity, and there are times, during war for example, when a nation, +an army, and even its commanders must trust strategy to a very few +minds; when two conflicting opinions, though one happens to be right, +are more perilous than one opinion which is wrong. The wrong opinion +may have bad results, but the two opinions may entail disaster by +dissolving unity. [Footnote: Captain Peter S. Wright, Assistant +Secretary of the Supreme War Council, _At the Supreme War +Council,_ is well worth careful reading on secrecy and unity of +command, even though in respect to the allied leaders he wages a +passionate polemic.] + +Thus Foch and Sir Henry Wilson, who foresaw the impending disaster to +Cough's army, as a consequence of the divided and scattered reserves, +nevertheless kept their opinions well within a small circle, knowing +that even the risk of a smashing defeat was less certainly +destructive, than would have been an excited debate in the newspapers. +For what matters most under the kind of tension which prevailed in +March, 1918, is less the rightness of a particular move than the +unbroken expectation as to the source of command. Had Foch "gone to +the people" he might have won the debate, but long before he could +have won it, the armies which he was to command would have dissolved. +For the spectacle of a row on Olympus is diverting and destructive. + +But so also is a conspiracy of silence. Says Captain Wright: "It is in +the High Command and not in the line, that the art of camouflage is +most practiced, and reaches to highest flights. All chiefs everywhere +are now kept painted, by the busy work of numberless publicists, so as +to be mistaken for Napoleons--at a distance....It becomes almost +impossible to displace these Napoleons, whatever their incompetence, +because of the enormous public support created by hiding or glossing +failure, and exaggerating or inventing success.... But the most +insidious and worst effect of this so highly organized falsity is on +the generals themselves: modest and patriotic as they mostly are, and +as most men must be to take up and follow the noble profession of +arms, they themselves are ultimately affected by these universal +illusions, and reading it every morning in the paper, they also grow +persuaded they are thunderbolts of war and infallible, however much +they fail, and that their maintenance in command is an end so sacred +that it justifies the use of any means.... These various conditions, +of which this great deceit is the greatest, at last emancipate all +General Staffs from all control. They no longer live for the nation: +the nation lives, or rather dies, for them. Victory or defeat ceases +to be the prime interest. What matters to these semi-sovereign +corporations is whether dear old Willie or poor old Harry is going to +be at their head, or the Chantilly party prevail over the Boulevard +des Invalides party." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, pp. 98, 101-105.] + +Yet Captain Wright who can be so eloquent and so discerning about the +dangers of silence is forced nevertheless to approve the silence of +Foch in not publicly destroying the illusions. There is here a +complicated paradox, arising as we shall see more fully later on, +because the traditional democratic view of life is conceived, not for +emergencies and dangers, but for tranquillity and harmony. And so +where masses of people must cooperate in an uncertain and eruptive +environment, it is usually necessary to secure unity and flexibility +without real consent. The symbol does that. It obscures personal +intention, neutralizes discrimination, and obfuscates individual +purpose. It immobilizes personality, yet at the same time it +enormously sharpens the intention of the group and welds that group, +as nothing else in a crisis can weld it, to purposeful action. It +renders the mass mobile though it immobilizes personality. The symbol +is the instrument by which in the short run the mass escapes from its +own inertia, the inertia of indecision, or the inertia of headlong +movement, and is rendered capable of being led along the zigzag of a +complex situation. + +2 + +But in the longer run, the give and take increases between the leaders +and the led. The word most often used to describe the state of mind in +the rank and file about its leaders is morale. That is said to be good +when the individuals do the part allotted to them with all their +energy; when each man's whole strength is evoked by the command from +above. It follows that every leader must plan his policy with this in +mind. He must consider his decision not only on "the merits," but also +in its effect on any part of his following whose continued support he +requires. If he is a general planning an attack, he knows that his +organized military units will scatter into mobs if the percentage of +casualties rises too high. + +In the Great War previous calculations were upset to an extraordinary +degree, for "out of every nine men who went to France five became +casualties." [Footnote: _Op. cit_., p. 37. Figures taken by +Captain Wright from the statistical abstract of the war in the +Archives of the War Office. The figures refer apparently to the +English losses alone, possibly to the English and French.] The limit +of endurance was far greater than anyone had supposed. But there was a +limit somewhere. And so, partly because of its effect on the enemy, +but also in great measure because of its effect on the troops and +their families, no command in this war dared to publish a candid +statement of its losses. In France the casualty lists were never +published. In England, America, and Germany publication of the losses +of a big battle were spread out over long periods so as to destroy a +unified impression of the total. Only the insiders knew until long +afterwards what the Somme had cost, or the Flanders battles; +[Footnote: _Op cit._, p. 34, the Somme cost nearly 500,000 +casualties; the Arras and Flanders offensives of 1917 cost 650,000 +British casualties.] and Ludendorff undoubtedly had a very much more +accurate idea of these casualties than any private person in London, +Paris or Chicago. All the leaders in every camp did their best to +limit the amount of actual war which any one soldier or civilian could +vividly conceive. But, of course, among old veterans like the French +troops of 1917, a great deal more is known about war than ever reaches +the public. Such an army begins to judge its commanders in terms of +its own suffering. And then, when another extravagant promise of +victory turns out to be the customary bloody defeat, you may find that +a mutiny breaks out over some comparatively minor blunder, [Footnote: +The Allies suffered many bloodier defeats than that on the Chemin des +Dames.] like Nivelle's offensive of 1917, because it is a cumulative +blunder. Revolutions and mutinies generally follow a small sample of a +big series of evils. [Footnote: _Cf._ Pierrefeu's account, _op. +cit._, on the causes of the Soissons mutinies, and the method +adopted by Petain to deal with them. Vol. I, Part III, _et seq._] + +The incidence of policy determines the relation between leader and +following. If those whom he needs in his plan are remote from the +place where the action takes place, if the results are hidden or +postponed, if the individual obligations are indirect or not yet due, +above all if assent is an exercise of some pleasurable emotion, the +leader is likely to have a free hand. Those programs are immediately +most popular, like prohibition among teetotalers, which do not at once +impinge upon the private habits of the followers. That is one great +reason why governments have such a free hand in foreign affairs. Most +of the frictions between two states involve a series of obscure and +long-winded contentions, occasionally on the frontier, but far more +often in regions about which school geographies have supplied no +precise ideas. In Czechoslovakia America is regarded as the Liberator; +in American newspaper paragraphs and musical comedy, in American +conversation by and large, it has never been finally settled whether +the country we liberated is Czechoslavia or Jugoslovakia. + +In foreign affairs the incidence of policy is for a very long time +confined to an unseen environment. Nothing that happens out there is +felt to be wholly real. And so, because in the ante-bellum period, +nobody has to fight and nobody has to pay, governments go along +according to their lights without much reference to their people. In +local affairs the cost of a policy is more easily visible. And +therefore, all but the most exceptional leaders prefer policies in +which the costs are as far as possible indirect. + +They do not like direct taxation. They do not like to pay as they go. +They like long term debts. They like to have the voters believe that +the foreigner will pay. They have always been compelled to calculate +prosperity in terms of the producer rather than in terms of the +consumer, because the incidence on the consumer is distributed over so +many trivial items. Labor leaders have always preferred an increase of +money wages to a decrease in prices. There has always been more +popular interest in the profits of millionaires, which are visible but +comparatively unimportant, than in the wastes of the industrial +system, which are huge but elusive. A legislature dealing with a +shortage of houses, such as exists when this is written, illustrates +this rule, first by doing nothing to increase the number of houses, +second by smiting the greedy landlord on the hip, third by +investigating the profiteering builders and working men. For a +constructive policy deals with remote and uninteresting factors, while +a greedy landlord, or a profiteering plumber is visible and immediate. + +But while people will readily believe that in an unimagined future and +in unseen places a certain policy will benefit them, the actual +working out of policy follows a different logic from their opinions. A +nation may be induced to believe that jacking up the freight rates +will make the railroads prosperous. But that belief will not make the +roads prosperous, if the impact of those rates on farmers and shippers +is such as to produce a commodity price beyond what the consumer can +pay. Whether the consumer will pay the price depends not upon whether +he nodded his head nine months previously at the proposal to raise +rates and save business, but on whether he now wants a new hat or a +new automobile enough to pay for them. + +3 + +Leaders often pretend that they have merely uncovered a program which +existed in the minds of their public. When they believe it, they are +usually deceiving themselves. Programs do not invent themselves +synchronously in a multitude of minds. That is not because a multitude +of minds is necessarily inferior to that of the leaders, but because +thought is the function of an organism, and a mass is not an organism. + +This fact is obscured because the mass is constantly exposed to +suggestion. It reads not the news, but the news with an aura of +suggestion about it, indicating the line of action to be taken. It +hears reports, not objective as the facts are, but already stereotyped +to a certain pattern of behavior. Thus the ostensible leader often +finds that the real leader is a powerful newspaper proprietor. But if, +as in a laboratory, one could remove all suggestion and leading from +the experience of a multitude, one would, I think, find something like +this: A mass exposed to the same stimuli would develop responses that +could theoretically be charted in a polygon of error. There would be a +certain group that felt sufficiently alike to be classified together. +There would be variants of feeling at both ends. These classifications +would tend to harden as individuals in each of the classifications +made their reactions vocal. That is to say, when the vague feelings of +those who felt vaguely had been put into words, they would know more +definitely what they felt, and would then feel it more definitely. + +Leaders in touch with popular feeling are quickly conscious of these +reactions. They know that high prices are pressing upon the mass, or +that certain classes of individuals are becoming unpopular, or that +feeling towards another nation is friendly or hostile. But, always +barring the effect of suggestion which is merely the assumption of +leadership by the reporter, there would be nothing in the feeling of +the mass that fatally determined the choice of any particular policy. +All that the feeling of the mass demands is that policy as it is +developed and exposed shall be, if not logically, then by analogy and +association, connected with the original feeling. + +So when a new policy is to be launched, there is a preliminary bid for +community of feeling, as in Mark Antony's speech to the followers of +Brutus. [Footnote: Excellently analyzed in Martin, _The Behavior of +Crowds,_ pp. 130-132,] In the first phase, the leader vocalizes the +prevalent opinion of the mass. He identifies himself with the familiar +attitudes of his audience, sometimes by telling a good story, +sometimes by brandishing his patriotism, often by pinching a +grievance. Finding that he is trustworthy, the multitude milling +hither and thither may turn in towards him. He will then be expected +to set forth a plan of campaign. But he will not find that plan in the +slogans which convey the feelings of the mass. It will not even always +be indicated by them. Where the incidence of policy is remote, all +that is essential is that the program shall be verbally and +emotionally connected at the start with what has become vocal in the +multitude. Trusted men in a familiar role subscribing to the accepted +symbols can go a very long way on their own initiative without +explaining the substance of their programs. + +But wise leaders are not content to do that. Provided they think +publicity will not strengthen opposition too much, and that debate +will not delay action too long, they seek a certain measure of +consent. They take, if not the whole mass, then the subordinates of +the hierarchy sufficiently into their confidence to prepare them for +what might happen, and to make them feel that they have freely willed +the result. But however sincere the leader may be, there is always, +when the facts are very complicated, a certain amount of illusion in +these consultations. For it is impossible that all the contingencies +shall be as vivid to the whole public as they are to the more +experienced and the more imaginative. A fairly large percentage are +bound to agree without having taken the time, or without possessing +the background, for appreciating the choices which the leader presents +to them. No one, however, can ask for more. And only theorists do. If +we have had our day in court, if what we had to say was heard, and +then if what is done comes out well, most of us do not stop to +consider how much our opinion affected the business in hand. + +And therefore, if the established powers are sensitive and +well-informed, if they are visibly trying to meet popular feeling, and +actually removing some of the causes of dissatisfaction, no matter how +slowly they proceed, provided they are seen to be proceeding, they +have little to fear. It takes stupendous and persistent blundering, +plus almost infinite tactlessness, to start a revolution from below. +Palace revolutions, interdepartmental revolutions, are a different +matter. So, too, is demagogy. That stops at relieving the tension by +expressing the feeling. But the statesman knows that such relief is +temporary, and if indulged too often, unsanitary. He, therefore, sees +to it that he arouses no feeling which he cannot sluice into a program +that deals with the facts to which the feelings refer. + +But all leaders are not statesmen, all leaders hate to resign, and +most leaders find it hard to believe that bad as things are, the other +fellow would not make them worse. They do not passively wait for the +public to feel the incidence of policy, because the incidence of that +discovery is generally upon their own heads. They are, therefore, +intermittently engaged in mending their fences and consolidating their +position. + +The mending of fences consists in offering an occasional scapegoat, in +redressing a minor grievance affecting a powerful individual or +faction, rearranging certain jobs, placating a group of people who +want an arsenal in their home town, or a law to stop somebody's vices. +Study the daily activity of any public official who depends on +election and you can enlarge this list. There are Congressmen elected +year after year who never think of dissipating their energy on public +affairs. They prefer to do a little service for a lot of people on a +lot of little subjects, rather than to engage in trying to do a big +service out there in the void. But the number of people to whom any +organization can be a successful valet is limited, and shrewd +politicians take care to attend either the influential, or somebody so +blatantly uninfluential that to pay any attention to him is a mark of +sensational magnanimity. The far greater number who cannot be held by +favors, the anonymous multitude, receive propaganda. + +The established leaders of any organization have great natural +advantages. They are believed to have better sources of information. +The books and papers are in their offices. They took part in the +important conferences. They met the important people. They have +responsibility. It is, therefore, easier for them to secure attention +and to speak in a convincing tone. But also they have a very great +deal of control over the access to the facts. Every official is in +some degree a censor. And since no one can suppress information, +either by concealing it or forgetting to mention it, without some +notion of what he wishes the public to know, every leader is in some +degree a propagandist. Strategically placed, and compelled often to +choose even at the best between the equally cogent though conflicting +ideals of safety for the institution, and candor to his public, the +official finds himself deciding more and more consciously what facts, +in what setting, in what guise he shall permit the public to know. + +4 + +That the manufacture of consent is capable of great refinements no +one, I think, denies. The process by which public opinions arise is +certainly no less intricate than it has appeared in these pages, and +the opportunities for manipulation open to anyone who understands the +process are plain enough. + +The creation of consent is not a new art. It is a very old one which +was supposed to have died out with the appearance of democracy. But it +has not died out. It has, in fact, improved enormously in technic, +because it is now based on analysis rather than on rule of thumb. And +so, as a result of psychological research, coupled with the modern +means of communication, the practice of democracy has turned a corner. +A revolution is taking place, infinitely more significant than any +shifting of economic power. + +Within the life of the generation now in control of affairs, +persuasion has become a self-conscious art and a regular organ of +popular government. None of us begins to understand the consequences, +but it is no daring prophecy to say that the knowledge of how to +create consent will alter every political calculation and modify every +political premise. Under the impact of propaganda, not necessarily in +the sinister meaning of the word alone, the old constants of our +thinking have become variables. It is no longer possible, for example, +to believe in the original dogma of democracy; that the knowledge +needed for the management of human affairs comes up spontaneously from +the human heart. Where we act on that theory we expose ourselves to +self-deception, and to forms of persuasion that we cannot verify. It +has been demonstrated that we cannot rely upon intuition, conscience, +or the accidents of casual opinion if we are to deal with the world +beyond our reach. + + + + +PART VI + +THE IMAGE OF DEMOCRACY + +"I confess that in America I saw more than America; +I sought the image of democracy itself." + +Alexis de Tocqueville. + +CHAPTER 16. THE SELF-CENTERED MAN + " 17. THE SELF-CONTAINED COMMUNITY + " 18. THE ROLE OF FORCE, PATRONAGE AND PRIVILEGE + " 19. THE OLD IMAGE IN A NEW FORM: GUILD SOCIALISM + " 20. A NEW IMAGE + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE SELF-CENTERED MAN + +I + +SINCE Public Opinion is supposed to be the prime mover in democracies, +one might reasonably expect to find a vast literature. One does not +find it. There are excellent books on government and parties, that is, +on the machinery which in theory registers public opinions after they +are formed. But on the sources from which these public opinions arise, +on the processes by which they are derived, there is relatively +little. The existence of a force called Public Opinion is in the main +taken for granted, and American political writers have been most +interested either in finding out how to make government express the +common will, or in how to prevent the common will from subverting the +purposes for which they believe the government exists. According to +their traditions they have wished either to tame opinion or to obey +it. Thus the editor of a notable series of text-books writes that "the +most difficult and the most momentous question of government (is) how +to transmit the force of individual opinion into public +action." [Footnote: Albert Bushnell Hart in the Introductory note to A. +Lawrence Lowell's _Public Opinion and Popular Government. _] + +But surely there is a still more momentous question, the question of +how to validate our private versions of the political scene. There is, +as I shall try to indicate further on, the prospect of radical +improvement by the development of principles already in operation. But +this development will depend on how well we learn to use knowledge of +the way opinions are put together to watch over our own opinions when +they are being put together. For casual opinion, being the product of +partial contact, of tradition, and personal interests, cannot in the +nature of things take kindly to a method of political thought which is +based on exact record, measurement, analysis and comparison. Just +those qualities of the mind which determine what shall seem +interesting, important, familiar, personal, and dramatic, are the +qualities which in the first instance realistic opinion frustrates. +Therefore, unless there is in the community at large a growing +conviction that prejudice and intuition are not enough, the working +out of realistic opinion, which takes time, money, labor, conscious +effort, patience, and equanimity, will not find enough support. That +conviction grows as self-criticism increases, and makes us conscious +of buncombe, contemptuous of ourselves when we employ it, and on guard +to detect it. Without an ingrained habit of analyzing opinion when we +read, talk, and decide, most of us would hardly suspect the need of +better ideas, nor be interested in them when they appear, nor be able +to prevent the new technic of political intelligence from being +manipulated. + +Yet democracies, if we are to judge by the oldest and most powerful of +them, have made a mystery out of public opinion. There have been +skilled organizers of opinion who understood the mystery well enough +to create majorities on election day. But these organizers have been +regarded by political science as low fellows or as "problems," not as +possessors of the most effective knowledge there was on how to create +and operate public opinion. The tendency of the people who have voiced +the ideas of democracy, even when they have not managed its action, +the tendency of students, orators, editors, has been to look upon +Public Opinion as men in other societies looked upon the uncanny +forces to which they ascribed the last word in the direction of +events. + +For in almost every political theory there is an inscrutable element +which in the heyday of that theory goes unexamined. Behind the +appearances there is a Fate, there are Guardian Spirits, or Mandates +to a Chosen People, a Divine Monarchy, a Vice-Regent of Heaven, or a +Class of the Better Born. The more obvious angels, demons, and kings +are gone out of democratic thinking, but the need for believing that +there are reserve powers of guidance persists. It persisted for those +thinkers of the Eighteenth Century who designed the matrix of +democracy. They had a pale god, but warm hearts, and in the doctrine +of popular sovereignty they found the answer to their need of an +infallible origin for the new social order. There was the mystery, and +only enemies of the people touched it with profane and curious hands. + +2 + +They did not remove the veil because they were practical politicians +in a bitter and uncertain struggle. They had themselves felt the +aspiration of democracy, which is ever so much deeper, more intimate +and more important than any theory of government. They were engaged, +as against the prejudice of ages, in the assertion of human dignity. +What possessed them was not whether John Smith had sound views on any +public question, but that John Smith, scion of a stock that had always +been considered inferior, would now bend his knee to no other man. It +was this spectacle that made it bliss "in that dawn to be alive." But +every analyst seems to degrade that dignity, to deny that all men are +reasonable all the time, or educated, or informed, to note that people +are fooled, that they do not always know their own interests, and that +all men are not equally fitted to govern. + +The critics were about as welcome as a small boy with a drum. Every +one of these observations on the fallibility of man was being +exploited ad nauseam. Had democrats admitted there was truth in any of +the aristocratic arguments they would have opened a breach in the +defenses. And so just as Aristotle had to insist that the slave was a +slave by nature, the democrats had to insist that the free man was a +legislator and administrator by nature. They could not stop to explain +that a human soul might not yet have, or indeed might never have, this +technical equipment, and that nevertheless it had an inalienable right +not to be used as the unwilling instrument of other men. The superior +people were still too strong and too unscrupulous to have refrained +from capitalizing so candid a statement. + +So the early democrats insisted that a reasoned righteousness welled +up spontaneously out of the mass of men. All of them hoped that it +would, many of them believed that it did, although the cleverest, like +Thomas Jefferson, had all sorts of private reservations. But one thing +was certain: if public opinion did not come forth spontaneously, +nobody in that age believed it would come forth at all. For in one +fundamental respect the political science on which democracy was based +was the same science that Aristotle formulated. It was the same +science for democrat and aristocrat, royalist and republican, in that +its major premise assumed the art of government to be a natural +endowment. Men differed radically when they tried to name the men so +endowed; but they agreed in thinking that the greatest question of all +was to find those in whom political wisdom was innate. Royalists were +sure that kings were born to govern. Alexander Hamilton thought that +while "there are strong minds in every walk of life... the +representative body, with too few exceptions to have any influence on +the spirit of the government, will be composed of landholders, +merchants, and men of the learned professions." [Footnote: _The +Federalist_, Nos. 35, 36. _Cf_. comment by Henry Jones Ford in +his _Rise and Growth of American Politics_. Ch. V.] Jefferson +thought the political faculties were deposited by God in farmers and +planters, and sometimes spoke as if they were found in all the people. +[Footnote: See below p. 268.] The main premise was the same: to govern +was an instinct that appeared, according to your social preferences, +in one man or a chosen few, in all males, or only in males who were +white and twenty-one, perhaps even in all men and all women. + +In deciding who was most fit to govern, knowledge of the world was +taken for granted. The aristocrat believed that those who dealt with +large affairs possessed the instinct, the democrats asserted that all +men possessed the instinct and could therefore deal with large +affairs. It was no part of political science in either case to think +out how knowledge of the world could be brought to the ruler. If you +were for the people you did not try to work out the question of how to +keep the voter informed. By the age of twenty-one he had his political +faculties. What counted was a good heart, a reasoning mind, a balanced +judgment. These would ripen with age, but it was not necessary to +consider how to inform the heart and feed the reason. Men took in +their facts as they took in their breath. + +3 + +But the facts men could come to possess in this effortless way were +limited. They could know the customs and more obvious character of the +place where they lived and worked. But the outer world they had to +conceive, and they did not conceive it instinctively, nor absorb +trustworthy knowledge of it just by living. Therefore, the only +environment in which spontaneous politics were possible was one +confined within the range of the ruler's direct and certain knowledge. +There is no escaping this conclusion, wherever you found government on +the natural range of men's faculties. "If," as Aristotle said, +[Footnote: _Politics_, Bk. VII, Ch. 4.] "the citizens of a state +are to judge and distribute offices according to merit, then they must +know each other's characters; where they do not possess this +knowledge, both the election to offices and the decision of law suits +will go wrong." + +Obviously this maxim was binding upon every school of political +thought. But it presented peculiar difficulties to the democrats. +Those who believed in class government could fairly claim that in the +court of the king, or in the country houses of the gentry, men did +know each other's characters, and as long as the rest of mankind was +passive, the only characters one needed to know were the characters of +men in the ruling class. But the democrats, who wanted to raise the +dignity of all men, were immediately involved by the immense size and +confusion of their ruling class--the male electorate. Their science +told them that politics was an instinct, and that the instinct worked +in a limited environment. Their hopes bade them insist that all men in +a very large environment could govern. In this deadly conflict between +their ideals and their science, the only way out was to assume without +much discussion that the voice of the people was the voice of God. + +The paradox was too great, the stakes too big, their ideal too +precious for critical examination. They could not show how a citizen +of Boston was to stay in Boston and conceive the views of a Virginian, +how a Virginian in Virginia could have real opinions about the +government at Washington, how Congressmen in Washington could have +opinions about China or Mexico. For in that day it was not possible +for many men to have an unseen environment brought into the field of +their judgment. There had been some advances, to be sure, since +Aristotle. There were a few newspapers, and there were books, better +roads perhaps, and better ships. But there was no great advance, and +the political assumptions of the Eighteenth Century had essentially to +be those that had prevailed in political science for two thousand +years. The pioneer democrats did not possess the material for +resolving the conflict between the known range of man's attention and +their illimitable faith in his dignity. + +Their assumptions antedated not only the modern newspaper, the +world-wide press services, photography and moving pictures, but, what +is really more significant, they antedated measurement and record, +quantitative and comparative analysis, the canons of evidence, and the +ability of psychological analysis to correct and discount the +prejudices of the witness. I do not mean to say that our records are +satisfactory, our analysis unbiased, our measurements sound. I do mean +to say that the key inventions have been made for bringing the unseen +world into the field of judgment. They had not been made in the time +of Aristotle, and they were not yet important enough to be visible for +political theory in the age of Rousseau, Montesquieu, or Thomas +Jefferson. In a later chapter I think we shall see that even in the +latest theory of human reconstruction, that of the English Guild +Socialists, all the deeper premises have been taken over from this +older system of political thought. + +That system, whenever it was competent and honest, had to assume that +no man could have more than a very partial experience of public +affairs. In the sense that he can give only a little time to them, +that assumption is still true, and of the utmost consequence. But +ancient theory was compelled to assume, not only that men could give +little attention to public questions, but that the attention available +would have to be confined to matters close at hand. It would have been +visionary to suppose that a time would come when distant and +complicated events could conceivably be reported, analyzed, and +presented in such a form that a really valuable choice could be made +by an amateur. That time is now in sight. There is no longer any doubt +that the continuous reporting of an unseen environment is feasible. It +is often done badly, but the fact that it is done at all shows that it +can be done, and the fact that we begin to know how badly it is often +done, shows that it can be done better. With varying degrees of skill +and honesty distant complexities are reported every day by engineers +and accountants for business men, by secretaries and civil servants +for officials, by intelligence officers for the General Staff, by some +journalists for some readers. These are crude beginnings but radical, +far more radical in the literal meaning of that word than the +repetition of wars, revolutions, abdications and restorations; as +radical as the change in the scale of human life which has made it +possible for Mr. Lloyd George to discuss Welsh coal mining after +breakfast in London, and the fate of the Arabs before dinner in Paris. + +For the possibility of bringing any aspect of human affairs within the +range of judgment breaks the spell which has lain upon political +ideas. There have, of course, been plenty of men who did not realize +that the range of attention was the main premise of political science. +They have built on sand. They have demonstrated in their own persons +the effects of a very limited and self-centered knowledge of the +world. But for the political thinkers who have counted, from Plato and +Aristotle through Machiavelli and Hobbes to the democratic theorists, +speculation has revolved around the self-centered man who had to see +the whole world by means of a few pictures in his head. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SELF-CONTAINED COMMUNITY + +1 + +THAT groups of self-centered people would engage in a struggle for +existence if they rubbed against each other has always been evident. +This much truth there is at any rate in that famous passage in the +Leviathan where Hobbes says that "though there had never been any time +wherein particular men were in a condition of war one against another, +yet at all times kings and _persons_ of _sovereign authority +because_ of their _independency_, are in continual jealousies +and in the state and posture of gladiators, having their weapons +pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another..." [Footnote: +_Leviathan_, Ch. XIII. Of the Natural Condition of Mankind as +concerning their Felicity and Misery.] + +2 + +To circumvent this conclusion one great branch of human thought, which +had and has many schools, proceeded in this fashion: it conceived an +ideally just pattern of human relations in which each person had well +defined functions and rights. If he conscientiously filled the role +allotted to him, it did not matter whether his opinions were right or +wrong. He did his duty, the next man did his, and all the dutiful +people together made a harmonious world. Every caste system +illustrates this principle; you find it in Plato's Republic and in +Aristotle, in the feudal ideal, in the circles of Dante's Paradise, in +the bureaucratic type of socialism, and in laissez-faire, to an +amazing degree in syndicalism, guild socialism, anarchism, and in the +system of international law idealized by Mr. Robert Lansing. All of +them assume a pre-established harmony, inspired, imposed, or innate, +by which the self-opinionated person, class, or community is +orchestrated with the rest of mankind. The more authoritarian imagine +a conductor for the symphony who sees to it that each man plays his +part; the anarchistic are inclined to think that a more divine concord +would be heard if each player improvised as he went along. + +But there have also been philosophers who were bored by these schemes +of rights and duties, took conflict for granted, and tried to see how +their side might come out on top. They have always seemed more +realistic, even when they seemed alarming, because all they had to do +was to generalize the experience that nobody could escape. Machiavelli +is the classic of this school, a man most mercilessly maligned, +because he happened to be the first naturalist who used plain language +in a field hitherto preempted by supernaturalists. [Footnote: F. S. +Oliver in his _Alexander Hamilton_, says of Machiavelli (p. 174): +"Assuming the conditions which exist--the nature of man and of +things--to be unchangeable, he proceeds in a calm, unmoral way, like a +lecturer on frogs, to show how a valiant and sagacious ruler can best +turn events to his own advantage and the security of his dynasty."] He +has a worse name and more disciples than any political thinker who +ever lived. He truly described the technic of existence for the +self-contained state. That is why he has the disciples. He has the bad +name chiefly because he cocked his eye at the Medici family, dreamed +in his study at night where he wore his "noble court dress" that +Machiavelli was himself the Prince, and turned a pungent description +of the way things are done into an eulogy on that way of doing them. + +In his most infamous chapter [Footnote: _The Prince_, Ch. XVIII. +"Concerning the way in which Princes should keep faith." Translation +by W. K. Marriott.] he wrote that "a prince ought to take care that he +never lets anything slip from his lips that is not replete with the +above-named five qualities, that he may appear to him who hears and +sees him altogether merciful, faithful, humane, upright, and +religious. There is nothing more necessary to appear to have than this +last quality, inasmuch as men judge generally more by the eye than by +the hand, because it belongs to everybody to see you, to few to come +in touch with you. Everyone sees what you appear to be, few really +know what you are, and those few dare not oppose themselves to the +opinion of the many, who have the majesty of the state to defend them; +and in the actions of all men, and especially of princes, which it is +not prudent to challenge, one judges by the result.... One prince of +the present time, whom it is not well to name, never preaches anything +else but peace and good faith, and to both he is most hostile, and +either, if he had kept it, would have deprived him of reputation and +kingdom many a time." + +That is cynical. But it is the cynicism of a man who saw truly without +knowing quite why he saw what he saw. Machiavelli is thinking of the +run of men and princes "who judge generally more by the eye than by +the hand," which is his way of saying that their judgments are +subjective. He was too close to earth to pretend that the Italians of +his day saw the world steadily and saw it whole. He would not indulge +in fantasies, and he had not the materials for imagining a race of men +that had learned how to correct their vision. + +The world, as he found it, was composed of people whose vision could +rarely be corrected, and Machiavelli knew that such people, since they +see all public relations in a private way, are involved in perpetual +strife. What they see is their own personal, class, dynastic, or +municipal version of affairs that in reality extend far beyond the +boundaries of their vision. They see their aspect. They see it as +right. But they cross other people who are similarly self-centered. +Then their very existence is endangered, or at least what they, for +unsuspected private reasons, regard as their existence and take to be +a danger. The end, which is impregnably based on a real though private +experience justifies the means. They will sacrifice any one of these +ideals to save all of them,... "one judges by the result..." + +3 + +These elemental truths confronted the democratic philosophers. +Consciously or otherwise, they knew that the range of political +knowledge was limited, that the area of self-government would have to +be limited, and that self-contained states when they rubbed against +each other were in the posture of gladiators. But they knew just as +certainly, that there was in men a will to decide their own fate, and +to find a peace that was not imposed by force. How could they +reconcile the wish and the fact? + +They looked about them. In the city states of Greece and Italy they +found a chronicle of corruption, intrigue and war. [Footnote: +"Democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention... +and have in general been as short in their lives as they have been +violent in their deaths." Madison, _Federalist_, No. 10.] In +their own cities they saw faction, artificiality, fever. This was no +environment in which the democratic ideal could prosper, no place +where a group of independent and equally competent people managed +their own affairs spontaneously. They looked further, guided somewhat +perhaps by Jean Jacques Rousseau, to remote, unspoiled country +villages. They saw enough to convince themselves that there the ideal +was at home. Jefferson in particular felt this, and Jefferson more +than any other man formulated the American image of democracy. From +the townships had come the power that had carried the American +Revolution to victory. From the townships were to come the votes that +carried Jefferson's party to power. Out there in the farming +communities of Massachusetts and Virginia, if you wore glasses that +obliterated the slaves, you could see with your mind's eye the image +of what democracy was to be. + +"The American Revolution broke out," says de Tocqueville, [Footnote: +_Democracy in America,_ Vol. I, p. 51. Third Edition] "and the +doctrine of the sovereignty of the people, which had been nurtured in +the townships, took possession of the state." It certainly took +possession of the minds of those men who formulated and popularized +the stereotypes of democracy. "The cherishment of the people was our +principle," wrote Jefferson. [Footnote: Cited in Charles Beard, +_Economic Origins of Jeffersonian Democracy._ Ch. XIV. ] But the +people he cherished almost exclusively were the small landowning +farmers: "Those who labor in the earth are the chosen people of God, +if ever He had a chosen people, whose breasts He has made his peculiar +deposit for substantial and genuine virtue. It is the focus in which +He keeps alive that sacred fire, which otherwise might escape from the +face of the earth. Corruption of morals in the mass of cultivators is +a phenomenon of which no age nor nation has furnished an example." + +However much of the romantic return to nature may have entered into +this exclamation, there was also an element of solid sense. Jefferson +was right in thinking that a group of independent farmers comes nearer +to fulfilling the requirements of spontaneous democracy than any other +human society. But if you are to preserve the ideal, you must fence +off these ideal communities from the abominations of the world. If the +farmers are to manage their own affairs, they must confine affairs to +those they are accustomed to managing. Jefferson drew all these +logical conclusions. He disapproved of manufacture, of foreign +commerce, and a navy, of intangible forms of property, and in theory +of any form of government that was not centered in the small +self-governing group. He had critics in his day: one of them remarked +that "wrapt up in the fullness of self-consequence and strong enough, +in reality, to defend ourselves against every invader, we might enjoy +an eternal rusticity and live, forever, thus apathized and vulgar +under the shelter of a selfish, satisfied indifference." [Footnote: +_Op. cit_., p. 426.] + +4 + +The democratic ideal, as Jefferson moulded it, consisting of an ideal +environment and a selected class, did not conflict with the political +science of his time. It did conflict with the realities. And when the +ideal was stated in absolute terms, partly through exuberance and +partly for campaign purposes, it was soon forgotten that the theory +was originally devised for very special conditions. It became the +political gospel, and supplied the stereotypes through which Americans +of all parties have looked at politics. + +That gospel was fixed by the necessity that in Jefferson's time no one +could have conceived public opinions that were not spontaneous and +subjective. The democratic tradition is therefore always trying to see +a world where people are exclusively concerned with affairs of which +the causes and effects all operate within the region they inhabit. +Never has democratic theory been able to conceive itself in the +context of a wide and unpredictable environment. The mirror is +concave. And although democrats recognize that they are in contact +with external affairs, they see quite surely that every contact +outside that self-contained group is a threat to democracy as +originally conceived. That is a wise fear. If democracy is to be +spontaneous, the interests of democracy must remain simple, +intelligible, and easily managed. Conditions must approximate those of +the isolated rural township if the supply of information is to be left +to casual experience. The environment must be confined within the +range of every man's direct and certain knowledge. + +The democrat has understood what an analysis of public opinion seems +to demonstrate: that in dealing with an unseen environment decisions +"are manifestly settled at haphazard, which clearly they ought not to +be." [Footnote: Aristotle, _Politics_, Bk. VII, Ch. IV.] So he +has always tried in one way or another to minimize the importance of +that unseen environment. He feared foreign trade because trade +involves foreign connections; he distrusted manufactures because they +produced big cities and collected crowds; if he had nevertheless to +have manufactures, he wanted protection in the interest of +self-sufficiency. When he could not find these conditions in the real +world, he went passionately into the wilderness, and founded Utopian +communities far from foreign contacts. His slogans reveal his +prejudice. He is for Self-Government, Self-Determination, +Independence. Not one of these ideas carries with it any notion of +consent or community beyond the frontiers of the self-governing +groups. The field of democratic action is a circumscribed area. Within +protected boundaries the aim has been to achieve self-sufficiency and +avoid entanglement. This rule is not confined to foreign policy, but +it is plainly evident there, because life outside the national +boundaries is more distinctly alien than any life within. And as +history shows, democracies in their foreign policy have had generally +to choose between splendid isolation and a diplomacy that violated +their ideals. The most successful democracies, in fact, Switzerland, +Denmark, Australia, New Zealand, and America until recently, have had +no foreign policy in the European sense of that phrase. Even a rule +like the Monroe Doctrine arose from the desire to supplement the two +oceans by a glacis of states that were sufficiently republican to have +no foreign policy. + +Whereas danger is a great, perhaps an indispensable condition of +autocracy, [Footnote: Fisher Ames, frightened by the democratic +revolution of 1800, wrote to Rufus King in 1802: "We need, as all +nations do, the compression on the outside of our circle of a +formidable neighbor, whose presence shall at all times excite stronger +fears than demagogues can inspire the people with towards their +government." Cited by Ford, _Rise and Growth of American +Politics,_ p. 69.] security was seen to be a necessity if democracy +was to work. There must be as little disturbance as possible of the +premise of a self-contained community. Insecurity involves surprises. +It means that there are people acting upon your life, over whom you +have no control, with whom you cannot consult. It means that forces +are at large which disturb the familiar routine, and present novel +problems about which quick and unusual decisions are required. Every +democrat feels in his bones that dangerous crises are incompatible +with democracy, because he knows that the inertia of masses is such +that to act quickly a very few must decide and the rest follow rather +blindly. This has not made non-resistants out of democrats, but it has +resulted in all democratic wars being fought for pacifist aims. Even +when the wars are in fact wars of conquest, they are sincerely +believed to be wars in defense of civilization. + +These various attempts to enclose a part of the earth's surface were +not inspired by cowardice, apathy, or, what one of Jefferson's critics +called a willingness to live under monkish discipline. The democrats +had caught sight of a dazzling possibility, that every human being +should rise to his full stature, freed from man-made limitations. With +what they knew of the art of government, they could, no more than +Aristotle before them, conceive a society of autonomous individuals, +except an enclosed and simple one. They could, then, select no other +premise if they were to reach the conclusion that all the people could +spontaneously manage their public affairs. + +5 + +Having adopted the premise because it was necessary to their keenest +hope, they drew other conclusions as well. Since in order to have +spontaneous self-government, you had to have a simple self-contained +community, they took it for granted that one man was as competent as +the next to manage these simple and self-contained affairs. Where the +wish is father to the thought such logic is convincing. Moreover, the +doctrine of the omnicompetent citizen is for most practical purposes +true in the rural township. Everybody in a village sooner or later +tries his hand at everything the village does. There is rotation in +office by men who are jacks of all trades. There was no serious +trouble with the doctrine of the omnicompetent citizen until the +democratic stereotype was universally applied, so that men looked at a +complicated civilization and saw an enclosed village. + +Not only was the individual citizen fitted to deal with all public +affairs, but he was consistently public-spirited and endowed with +unflagging interest. He was public-spirited enough in the township, +where he knew everybody and was interested in everybody's business. +The idea of enough for the township turned easily into the idea of +enough for any purpose, for as we have noted, quantitative thinking +does not suit a stereotype. But there was another turn to the circle. +Since everybody was assumed to be interested enough in important +affairs, only those affairs came to seem important in which everybody +was interested. + +This meant that men formed their picture of the world outside from the +unchallenged pictures in their heads. These pictures came to them well +stereotyped by their parents and teachers, and were little corrected +by their own experience. Only a few men had affairs that took them +across state lines. Even fewer had reason to go abroad. Most voters +lived their whole lives in one environment, and with nothing but a few +feeble newspapers, some pamphlets, political speeches, their religious +training, and rumor to go on, they had to conceive that larger +environment of commerce and finance, of war and peace. The number of +public opinions based on any objective report was very small in +proportion to those based on casual fancy. + +And so for many different reasons, self-sufficiency was a spiritual +ideal in the formative period. The physical isolation of the township, +the loneliness of the pioneer, the theory of democracy, the Protestant +tradition, and the limitations of political science all converged to +make men believe that out of their own consciences they must extricate +political wisdom. It is not strange that the deduction of laws from +absolute principles should have usurped so much of their free energy. +The American political mind had to live on its capital. In legalism it +found a tested body of rules from which new rules could be spun +without the labor of earning new truths from experience. The formulae +became so curiously sacred that every good foreign observer has been +amazed at the contrast between the dynamic practical energy of the +American people and the static theorism of their public life. That +steadfast love of fixed principles was simply the only way known of +achieving self-sufficiency. But it meant that the public opinions of +any one community about the outer world consisted chiefly of a few +stereotyped images arranged in a pattern deduced from their legal and +their moral codes, and animated by the feeling aroused by local +experiences. + +Thus democratic theory, starting from its fine vision of ultimate +human dignity, was forced by lack of the instruments of knowledge for +reporting its environment, to fall back upon the wisdom and experience +which happened to have accumulated in the voter. God had, in the words +of Jefferson, made men's breasts "His peculiar deposit for substantial +and genuine virtue." These chosen people in their self-contained +environment had all the facts before them. The environment was so +familiar that one could take it for granted that men were talking +about substantially the same things. The only real disagreements, +therefore, would be in judgments about the same facts. There was no +need to guarantee the sources of information. They were obvious, and +equally accessible to all men. Nor was there need to trouble about the +ultimate criteria. In the self-contained community one could assume, +or at least did assume, a homogeneous code of morals. The only place, +therefore, for differences of opinion was in the logical application +of accepted standards to accepted facts. And since the reasoning +faculty was also well standardized, an error in reasoning would be +quickly exposed in a free discussion. It followed that truth could be +obtained by liberty within these limits. The community could take its +supply of information for granted; its codes it passed on through +school, church, and family, and the power to draw deductions from a +premise, rather than the ability to find the premise, was regarded as +the chief end of intellectual training. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE ROLE OF FORCE, PATRONAGE AND PRIVILEGE + +1 + +"IT has happened as was to have been foreseen," wrote Hamilton, +[Footnote: _Federalist,_ No. 15] "the measures of the Union have +not been executed; the delinquencies of the States have, step by step, +matured themselves to an extreme which has at length arrested all the +wheels of the national government and brought them to an awful +stand."... For "in our case the concurrence of thirteen distinct +sovereign wills is requisite, under the confederation, to the complete +execution of every important measure that proceeds from the Union." +How could it be otherwise, he asked: "The rulers of the respective +members... will undertake to judge of the propriety of the measures +themselves. They will consider the conformity of the thing proposed or +required to their immediate interests or aims; the momentary +conveniences or inconveniences that would attend its adoption. All +this will be done, and in a spirit of interested and suspicious +scrutiny, without that knowledge of national circumstances and reasons +of state which is essential to right judgment, and with that strong +predilection in favor of local objects which can hardly fail to +mislead the decision. The same process must be repeated in every +member of which the body is constituted; and the execution of the +plans framed by the councils of the whole, will always fluctuate on +the discretion of the ill-informed and prejudiced opinion of every +part. Those who have been conversant in the proceedings of popular +assemblies, who have seen how difficult it often is, when there is no +exterior pressure of circumstances, to bring them to harmonious +resolutions on important points, will readily conceive how impossible +it must be to induce a number of such assemblies, deliberating at a +distance from each other, at different times, and under different +impressions, long to cooperate in the same views and pursuits." + +Over ten years of storm and stress with a congress that was, as John +Adams said, [Footnote: Ford, _op. cit._, p. 36.] "only a diplomatic +assembly," had furnished the leaders of the revolution "with an +instructive but afflicting lesson" [Footnote: _Federalist_, No. 15.] +in what happens when a number of self-centered communities +are entangled in the same environment. And so, when they went +to Philadelphia in May of 1787, ostensibly to revise the Articles of +Confederation, they were really in full reaction against the +fundamental premise of Eighteenth Century democracy. Not only +were the leaders consciously opposed to the democratic spirit of +the time, feeling, as Madison said, that "democracies have ever +been spectacles of turbulence and contention," but within the +national frontiers they were determined to offset as far as they could +the ideal of self-governing communities in self-contained environments. +The collisions and failures of concave democracy, where men +spontaneously managed all their own affairs, were before their eyes. +The problem as they saw it, was to restore government as against +democracy. They understood government to be the power to make +national decisions and enforce them throughout the nation; +democracy they believed was the insistence of localities and classes +upon self-determination in accordance with their immediate interests +and aims. + +They could not consider in their calculations the possibility of such +an organization of knowledge that separate communities would act +simultaneously on the same version of the facts. We just begin to +conceive this possibility for certain parts of the world where there +is free circulation of news and a common language, and then only for +certain aspects of life. The whole idea of a voluntary federalism in +industry and world politics is still so rudimentary, that, as we see +in our own experience, it enters only a little, and only very +modestly, into practical politics. What we, more than a century later, +can only conceive as an incentive to generations of intellectual +effort, the authors of the Constitution had no reason to conceive at +all. In order to set up national government, Hamilton and his +colleagues had to make plans, not on the theory that men would +cooperate because they had a sense of common interest, but on the +theory that men could be governed, if special interests were kept in +equilibrium by a balance of power. "Ambition," Madison said, +[Footnote: _Federalist_, No. 51, cited by Ford, _op. cit._, +p. 60.] "must be made to counteract ambition." + +They did not, as some writers have supposed, intend to balance every +interest so that the government would be in a perpetual deadlock. They +intended to deadlock local and class interest to prevent these from +obstructing government. "In framing a government which is to be +administered by men over men," wrote Madison, [Footnote: _Id_.] +"the great difficulty lies in this: _you must first enable the +government to control the governed_, and in the next place, oblige +it to control itself." In one very important sense, then, the doctrine +of checks and balances was the remedy of the federalist leaders for +the problem of public opinion. They saw no other way to substitute +"the mild influence of the magistracy" for the "sanguinary agency of +the sword" [Footnote: _Federalist, No. 15.] except by devising an +ingenious machine to neutralize local opinion. They did not understand +how to manipulate a large electorate, any more than they saw the +possibility of common consent upon the basis of common information. It +is true that Aaron Burr taught Hamilton a lesson which impressed him a +good deal when he seized control of New York City in 1800 by the aid +of Tammany Hall. But Hamilton was killed before he was able to take +account of this new discovery, and, as Mr. Ford says, [Footnote: Ford, +_op. cit._, p. 119.] Burr's pistol blew the brains out of the +Federal party. + +2 + +When the constitution was written, "politics could still be managed by +conference and agreement among gentlemen" [Footnote: _Op. cit._, +p. 144] and it was to the gentry that Hamilton turned for a +government. It was intended that they should manage national affairs +when local prejudice had been brought into equilibrium by the +constitutional checks and balances. No doubt Hamilton, who belonged to +this class by adoption, had a human prejudice in their favor. But that +by itself is a thin explanation of his statecraft. Certainly there can +be no question of his consuming passion for union, and it is, I think, +an inversion of the truth to argue that he made the Union to protect +class privileges, instead of saying that he used class privileges to +make the Union. "We must take man as we find him," Hamilton said, "and +if we expect him to serve the public we must interest his passions in +doing so." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. 47] He needed men to govern, +whose passions could be most quickly attached to a national interest. +These were the gentry, the public creditors, manufacturers, shippers, +and traders, [Footnote: Beard, _Economic Interpretation of the +Constitution, passim._] and there is probably no better instance in +history of the adaptation of shrewd means to clear ends, than in the +series of fiscal measures, by which Hamilton attached the provincial +notables to the new government. + +Although the constitutional convention worked behind closed doors, and +although ratification was engineered by "a vote of probably not more +than one-sixth of the adult males," [Footnote: Beard, _op. cit._, +p. 325.] there was little or no pretence. The Federalists argued for +union, not for democracy, and even the word republic had an unpleasant +sound to George Washington when he had been for more than two years a +republican president. The constitution was a candid attempt to limit +the sphere of popular rule; the only democratic organ it was intended +the government should possess was the House, based on a suffrage +highly limited by property qualifications. And even at that, the +House, it was believed, would be so licentious a part of the +government, that it was carefully checked and balanced by the Senate, +the electoral college, the Presidential veto, and by judicial +interpretation. + +Thus at the moment when the French Revolution was kindling popular +feeling the world over, the American revolutionists of 1776 came under +a constitution which went back, as far as it was expedient, to the +British Monarchy for a model. This conservative reaction could not +endure. The men who had made it were a minority, their motives were +under suspicion, and when Washington went into retirement, the +position of the gentry was not strong enough to survive the inevitable +struggle for the succession. The anomaly between the original plan of +the Fathers and the moral feeling of the age was too wide not to be +capitalized by a good politician. + +3 + +Jefferson referred to his election as "the great revolution of 1800," +but more than anything else it was a revolution in the mind. No great +policy was altered, but a new tradition was established. For it was +Jefferson who first taught the American people to regard the +Constitution as an instrument of democracy, and he stereotyped the +images, the ideas, and even many of the phrases, in which Americans +ever since have described politics to each other. So complete was the +mental victory, that twenty-five years later de Tocqueville, who was +received in Federalist homes, noted that even those who were "galled +by its continuance"--were not uncommonly heard to "laud the delights +of a republican government, and the advantages of democratic +institutions when they are in public." [Footnote: _Democracy in +America_, Vol. I, Ch. X (Third Edition, 1838), p. 216.] + +The Constitutional Fathers with all their sagacity had failed to see +that a frankly undemocratic constitution would not long be tolerated. +The bold denial of popular rule was bound to offer an easy point of +attack to a man, like Jefferson, who so far as his constitutional +opinions ran, was not a bit more ready than Hamilton to turn over +government to the "unrefined" will of the people. [Footnote: +_Cf._ his plan for the Constitution of Virginia, his ideas for a +senate of property holders, and his views on the judicial veto. Beard, +_Economic Origins of Jeffersonian Democracy_, pp. 450 _et +seq._] The Federalist leaders had been men of definite convictions +who stated them bluntly. There was little real discrepancy between +their public and their private views. But Jefferson's mind was a mass +of ambiguities, not solely because of its defects, as Hamilton and his +biographers have thought, but because he believed in a union and he +believed in spontaneous democracies, and in the political science of +his age there was no satisfactory way to reconcile the two. Jefferson +was confused in thought and action because he had a vision of a new +and tremendous idea that no one had thought out in all its bearings. +But though popular sovereignty was not clearly understood by anybody, +it seemed to imply so great an enhancement of human life, that no +constitution could stand which frankly denied it. The frank denials +were therefore expunged from consciousness, and the document, which is +on its face an honest example of limited constitutional democracy, was +talked and thought about as an instrument for direct popular rule. +Jefferson actually reached the point of believing that the Federalists +had perverted the Constitution, of which in his fancy they were no +longer the authors. And so the Constitution was, in spirit, rewritten. +Partly by actual amendment, partly by practice, as in the case of the +electoral college, but chiefly by looking at it through another set of +stereotypes, the facade was no longer permitted to look oligarchic. + +The American people came to believe that their Constitution was a +democratic instrument, and treated it as such. They owe that fiction +to the victory of Thomas Jefferson, and a great conservative fiction +it has been. It is a fair guess that if everyone had always regarded +the Constitution as did the authors of it, the Constitution would have +been violently overthrown, because loyalty to the Constitution and +loyalty to democracy would have seemed incompatible. Jefferson +resolved that paradox by teaching the American people to read the +Constitution as an expression of democracy. He himself stopped there. +But in the course of twenty-five years or so social conditions had +changed so radically, that Andrew Jackson carried out the political +revolution for which Jefferson had prepared the tradition. [Footnote: +The reader who has any doubts as to the extent of the revolution that +separated Hamilton's opinions from Jackson's practice should turn to +Mr. Henry Jones Ford's _Rise and Growth of American Politics_.] + +4 + +The political center of that revolution was the question of patronage. +By the men who founded the government public office was regarded as a +species of property, not lightly to be disturbed, and it was +undoubtedly their hope that the offices would remain in the hands of +their social class. But the democratic theory had as one of its main +principles the doctrine of the omnicompetent citizen. Therefore, when +people began to look at the Constitution as a democratic instrument, +it was certain that permanence in office would seem undemocratic. The +natural ambitions of men coincided here with the great moral impulse +of their age. Jefferson had popularized the idea without carrying it +ruthlessly into practice, and removals on party grounds were +comparatively few under the Virginian Presidents. It was Jackson who +founded the practice of turning public office into patronage. + +Curious as it sounds to us, the principle of rotation in office with +short terms was regarded as a great reform. Not only did it +acknowledge the new dignity of the average man by treating him as fit +for any office, not only did it destroy the monopoly of a small social +class and appear to open careers to talent, but "it had been advocated +for centuries as a sovereign remedy for political corruption," and as +the one way to prevent the creation of a bureaucracy. [Footnote: Ford, +_op. cit._, p. 169.] The practice of rapid change in public +office was the application to a great territory of the image of +democracy derived from the self-contained village. + +Naturally it did not have the same results in the nation that it had +in the ideal community on which the democratic theory was based. It +produced quite unexpected results, for it founded a new governing +class to take the place of the submerged federalists. Unintentionally, +patronage did for a large electorate what Hamilton's fiscal measures +had done for the upper classes. We often fail to realize how much of +the stability of our government we owe to patronage. For it was +patronage that weaned natural leaders from too much attachment to the +self-centered community, it was patronage that weakened the local +spirit and brought together in some kind of peaceful cooperation, the +very men who, as provincial celebrities, would, in the absence of a +sense of common interest, have torn the union apart. + +But of course, the democratic theory was not supposed to produce a new +governing class, and it has never accommodated itself to the fact. +When the democrat wanted to abolish monopoly of offices, to have +rotation and short terms, he was thinking of the township where anyone +could do a public service, and return humbly to his own farm. The idea +of a special class of politicians was just what the democrat did not +like. But he could not have what he did like, because his theory was +derived from an ideal environment, and he was living in a real one. +The more deeply he felt the moral impulse of democracy, the less ready +he was to see the profound truth of Hamilton's statement that +communities deliberating at a distance and under different impressions +could not long cooeperate in the same views and pursuits. For that +truth postpones anything like the full realization of democracy in +public affairs until the art of obtaining common consent has been +radically improved. And so while the revolution under Jefferson and +Jackson produced the patronage which made the two party system, which +created a substitute for the rule of the gentry, and a discipline for +governing the deadlock of the checks and balances, all that happened, +as it were, invisibly. + +Thus, rotation in office might be the ostensible theory, in practice +the offices oscillated between the henchmen. Tenure might not be a +permanent monopoly, but the professional politician was permanent. +Government might be, as President Harding once said, a simple thing, +but winning elections was a sophisticated performance. The salaries in +office might be as ostentatiously frugal as Jefferson's home-spun, but +the expenses of party organization and the fruits of victory were in +the grand manner. The stereotype of democracy controlled the visible +government; the corrections, the exceptions and adaptations of the +American people to the real facts of their environment have had to be +invisible, even when everybody knew all about them. It was only the +words of the law, the speeches of politicians, the platforms, and the +formal machinery of administration that have had to conform to the +pristine image of democracy. + +5 + +If one had asked a philosophical democrat how these self-contained +communities were to cooperate, when their public opinions were so +self-centered, he would have pointed to representative government +embodied in the Congress. And nothing would surprise him more than the +discovery of how steadily the prestige of representative government +has declined, while the power of the Presidency has grown. + +Some critics have traced this to the custom of sending only local +celebrities to Washington. They have thought that if Congress could +consist of the nationally eminent men, the life of the capital would +be more brilliant. It would be, of course, and it would be a very good +thing if retiring Presidents and Cabinet officers followed the example +of John Quincy Adams. But the absence of these men does not explain +the plight of Congress, for its decline began when it was relatively +the most eminent branch of the government. Indeed it is more probable +that the reverse is true, and that Congress ceased to attract the +eminent as it lost direct influence on the shaping of national policy. + +The main reason for the discredit, which is world wide, is, I think, +to be found in the fact that a congress of representatives is +essentially a group of blind men in a vast, unknown world. With some +exceptions, the only method recognized in the Constitution or in the +theory of representative government, by which Congress can inform +itself, is to exchange opinions from the districts. There is no +systematic, adequate, and authorized way for Congress to know what is +going on in the world. The theory is that the best man of each +district brings the best wisdom of his constituents to a central +place, and that all these wisdoms combined are all the wisdom that +Congress needs. Now there is no need to question the value of +expressing local opinions and exchanging them. Congress has great +value as the market-place of a continental nation. In the coatrooms, +the hotel lobbies, the boarding houses of Capitol Hill, at the +tea-parties of the Congressional matrons, and from occasional entries +into the drawing rooms of cosmopolitan Washington, new vistas are +opened, and wider horizons. But even if the theory were applied, and +the districts always sent their wisest men, the sum or a combination +of local impressions is not a wide enough base for national policy, +and no base at all for the control of foreign policy. Since the real +effects of most laws are subtle and hidden, they cannot be understood +by filtering local experiences through local states of mind. They can +be known only by controlled reporting and objective analysis. And just +as the head of a large factory cannot know how efficient it is by +talking to the foreman, but must examine cost sheets and data that +only an accountant can dig out for him, so the lawmaker does not +arrive at a true picture of the state of the union by putting together +a mosaic of local pictures. He needs to know the local pictures, but +unless he possesses instruments for calibrating them, one picture is +as good as the next, and a great deal better. + +The President does come to the assistance of Congress by delivering +messages on the state of the Union. He is in a position to do that +because he presides over a vast collection of bureaus and their +agents, which report as well as act. But he tells Congress what he +chooses to tell it. He cannot be heckled, and the censorship as to +what is compatible with the public interest is in his hands. It is a +wholly one-sided and tricky relationship, which sometimes reaches such +heights of absurdity, that Congress, in order to secure an important +document has to thank the enterprise of a Chicago newspaper, or the +calculated indiscretion of a subordinate official. So bad is the +contact of legislators with necessary facts that they are forced to +rely either on private tips or on that legalized atrocity, the +Congressional investigation, where Congressmen, starved of their +legitimate food for thought, go on a wild and feverish man-hunt, and +do not stop at cannibalism. + +Except for the little that these investigations yield, the occasional +communications from the executive departments, interested and +disinterested data collected by private persons, such newspapers, +periodicals, and books as Congressmen read, and a new and excellent +practice of calling for help from expert bodies like the Interstate +Commerce Commission, the Federal Trade Commission, and the Tariff +Commission, the creation of Congressional opinion is incestuous. From +this it follows either that legislation of a national character is +prepared by a few informed insiders, and put through by partisan +force; or that the legislation is broken up into a collection of local +items, each of which is enacted for a local reason. Tariff schedules, +navy yards, army posts, rivers and harbors, post offices and federal +buildings, pensions and patronage: these are fed out to concave +communities as tangible evidence of the benefits of national life. +Being concave, they can see the white marble building which rises out +of federal funds to raise local realty values and employ local +contractors more readily than they can judge the cumulative cost of +the pork barrel. It is fair to say that in a large assembly of men, +each of whom has practical knowledge only of his own district, laws +dealing with translocal affairs are rejected or accepted by the mass +of Congressmen without creative participation of any kind. They +participate only in making those laws that can be treated as a bundle +of local issues. For a legislature without effective means of +information and analysis must oscillate between blind regularity, +tempered by occasional insurgency, and logrolling. And it is the +logrolling which makes the regularity palatable, because it is by +logrolling that a Congressman proves to his more active constituents +that he is watching their interests as they conceive them. + +This is no fault of the individual Congressman's, except when he is +complacent about it. The cleverest and most industrious representative +cannot hope to understand a fraction of the bills on which he votes. +The best he can do is to specialize on a few bills, and take +somebody's word about the rest. I have known Congressmen, when they +were boning up on a subject, to study as they had not studied since +they passed their final examinations, many large cups of black coffee, +wet towels and all. They had to dig for information, sweat over +arranging and verifying facts, which, in any consciously organized +government, should have been easily available in a form suitable for +decision. And even when they really knew a subject, their anxieties +had only begun. For back home the editors, the board of trade, the +central federated union, and the women's clubs had spared themselves +these labors, and were prepared to view the Congressman's performance +through local spectacles. + +6 + +What patronage did to attach political chieftains to the national +government, the infinite variety of local subsidies and privileges do +for self-centered communities. Patronage and pork amalgamate and +stabilize thousands of special opinions, local discontents, private +ambitions. There are but two other alternatives. One is government by +terror and obedience, the other is government based on such a highly +developed system of information, analysis, and self-consciousness that +"the knowledge of national circumstances and reasons of state" is +evident to all men. The autocratic system is in decay, the voluntary +system is in its very earliest development; and so, in calculating the +prospects of association among large groups of people, a League of +Nations, industrial government, or a federal union of states, the +degree to which the material for a common consciousness exists, +determines how far cooperation will depend upon force, or upon the +milder alternative to force, which is patronage and privilege. The +secret of great state-builders, like Alexander Hamilton, is that they +know how to calculate these principles. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE OLD IMAGE IN A NEW FORM: GUILD SOCIALISM. + +Whenever the quarrels of self-centered groups become unbearable, +reformers in the past found themselves forced to choose between two +great alternatives. They could take the path to Rome and impose a +Roman peace upon the warring tribes. They could take the path to +isolation, to autonomy and self-sufficiency. Almost always they chose +that path which they had least recently travelled. If they had tried +out the deadening monotony of empire, they cherished above all other +things the simple freedom of their own community. But if they had seen +this simple freedom squandered in parochial jealousies they longed for +the spacious order of a great and powerful state. + +Whichever choice they made, the essential difficulty was the same. If +decisions were decentralized they soon floundered in a chaos of local +opinions. If they were centralized, the policy of the state was based +on the opinions of a small social set at the capital. In any case +force was necessary to defend one local right against another, or to +impose law and order on the localities, or to resist class government +at the center, or to defend the whole society, centralized or +decentralized, against the outer barbarian. + +Modern democracy and the industrial system were both born in a time of +reaction against kings, crown government, and a regime of detailed +economic regulation. In the industrial sphere this reaction took the +form of extreme devolution, known as laissez-faire individualism. Each +economic decision was to be made by the man who had title to the +property involved. Since almost everything was owned by somebody, +there would be somebody to manage everything. This was plural +sovereignty with a vengeance. + +It was economic government by anybody's economic philosophy, though it +was supposed to be controlled by immutable laws of political economy +that must in the end produce harmony. It produced many splendid +things, but enough sordid and terrible ones to start counter-currents. +One of these was the trust, which established a kind of Roman peace +within industry, and a Roman predatory imperialism outside. People +turned to the legislature for relief. They invoked representative +government, founded on the image of the township farmer, to regulate +the semi-sovereign corporations. The working class turned to labor +organization. There followed a period of increasing centralization and +a sort of race of armaments. The trusts interlocked, the craft unions +federated and combined into a labor movement, the political system +grew stronger at Washington and weaker in the states, as the reformers +tried to match its strength against big business. + +In this period practically all the schools of socialist thought from +the Marxian left to the New Nationalists around Theodore Roosevelt, +looked upon centralization as the first stage of an evolution which +would end in the absorption of all the semi-sovereign powers of +business by the political state. The evolution never took place, +except for a few months during the war. That was enough, and there was +a turn of the wheel against the omnivorous state in favor of several +new forms of pluralism. But this time society was to swing back not to +the atomic individualism of Adam Smith's economic man and Thomas +Jefferson's farmer, but to a sort of molecular individualism of +voluntary groups. + +One of the interesting things about all these oscillations of theory +is that each in turn promises a world in which no one will have to +follow Machiavelli in order to survive. They are all established by +some form of coercion, they all exercise coercion in order to maintain +themselves, and they are all discarded as a result of coercion. Yet +they do not accept coercion, either physical power or special +position, patronage, or privilege, as part of their ideal. The +individualist said that self-enlightened self-interest would bring +internal and external peace. The socialist is sure that the motives to +aggression will disappear. The new pluralist hopes they +will. [Footnote: See G. D. H. Cole, _Social Theory,_ p. 142.] +Coercion is the surd in almost all social theory, except the +Machiavellian. The temptation to ignore it, because it is absurd, +inexpressible, and unmanageable, becomes overwhelming in any man who +is trying to rationalize human life. + +2 + +The lengths to which a clever man will sometimes go in order to escape +a full recognition of the role of force is shown by Mr. G. D. H. +Cole's book on Guild Socialism. The present state, he says, "is +primarily an instrument of coercion;" [Footnote: Cole, _Guild +Socialism_, p. 107.] in a guild socialist society there will be no +sovereign power, though there will be a coordinating body. He calls +this body the Commune. + +He then begins to enumerate the powers of the Commune, which, we +recall, is to be primarily not an instrument of coercion. [Footnote: +_Op. cit._ Ch. VIII.] It settles price disputes. Sometimes it +fixes prices, allocates the surplus or distributes the loss. It +allocates natural resources, and controls the issue of credit. It also +"allocates communal labor-power." It ratifies the budgets of the +guilds and the civil services. It levies taxes. "All questions of +income" fall within its jurisdiction. It "allocates" income to the +non-productive members of the community. It is the final arbiter in +all questions of policy and jurisdiction between the guilds. It passes +constitutional laws fixing the functions of the functional bodies. It +appoints the judges. It confers coercive powers upon the guilds, and +ratifies their by-laws wherever these involve coercion. It declares +war and makes peace. It controls the armed forces. It is the supreme +representative of the nation abroad. It settles boundary questions +within the national state. It calls into existence new functional +bodies, or distributes new functions to old ones. It runs the police. +It makes whatever laws are necessary to regulate personal conduct and +personal property. + +These powers are exercised not by one commune, but by a federal +structure of local and provincial communes with a National commune at +the top. Mr. Cole is, of course, welcome to insist that this is not a +sovereign state, but if there is a coercive power now enjoyed by any +modern government for which he has forgotten to make room, I cannot +think of it. + +He tells us, however, that Guild society will be non-coercive: "we +want to build a new society which will be conceived in the spirit, not +of coercion, but of free service." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. +141.] Everyone who shares that hope, as most men and women do, will +therefore look closely to see what there is in the Guild Socialist +plan which promises to reduce coercion to its lowest limits, even +though the Guildsmen of to-day have already reserved for their +communes the widest kind of coercive power. It is acknowledged at once +that the new society cannot be brought into existence by universal +consent. Mr. Cole is too honest to shirk the element of force required +to make the transition. [Footnote: _Cf. op. cit._, Ch. X. ] And +while obviously he cannot predict how much civil war there might be, +he is quite clear that there would have to be a period of direct +action by the trade unions. + +3 + +But leaving aside the problems of transition, and any consideration of +what the effect is on their future action, when men have hacked their +way through to the promised land, let us imagine the Guild Society in +being. What keeps it running as a non-coercive society? + +Mr. Cole has two answers to this question. One is the orthodox Marxian +answer that the abolition of capitalist property will remove the +motive to aggression. Yet he does not really believe that, because if +he did, he would care as little as does the average Marxian how the +working class is to run the government, once it is in control. If his +diagnosis were correct, the Marxian would be quite right: if the +disease were the capitalist class and only the capitalist class, +salvation would automatically follow its extinction. But Mr. Cole is +enormously concerned about whether the society which follows the +revolution is to be run by state collectivism, by guilds or +cooperative societies, by a democratic parliament or by functional +representation. In fact, it is as a new theory of representative +government that guild socialism challenges attention. + +The guildsmen do not expect a miracle to result from the disappearance +of capitalist property rights. They do expect, and of course quite +rightly, that if equality of income were the rule, social relations +would be profoundly altered. But they differ, as far as I can make +out, from the orthodox Russian communist in this respect: The +communist proposes to establish equality by force of the dictatorship +of the proletariat, believing that if once people were equalized both +in income and in service, they would then lose the incentives to +aggression. The guildsmen also propose to establish equality by force, +but are shrewd enough to see that if an equilibrium is to be +maintained they have to provide institutions for maintaining it. +Guildsmen, therefore, put their faith in what they believe to be a new +theory of democracy. + +Their object, says Mr. Cole, is "to get the mechanism right, and to +adjust it as far as possible to the expression of men's social wills." +[Reference: _Op. cit._, p. 16.] These wills need to be given +opportunity for self-expression in self-government "in any and every +form of social action." Behind these words is the true democratic +impulse, the desire to enhance human dignity, as well as the +traditional assumption that this human dignity is impugned, unless +each person's will enters into the management of everything that +affects him. The guildsman, like the earlier democrat therefore, looks +about him for an environment in which this ideal of self-government +can be realized. A hundred years and more have passed since Rousseau +and Jefferson, and the center of interest has shifted from the country +to the city. The new democrat can no longer turn to the idealized +rural township for the image of democracy. He turns now to the +workshop. "The spirit of association must be given free play in the +sphere in which it is best able to find expression. This is manifestly +the factory, in which men have the habit and tradition of working +together. The factory is the natural and fundamental unit of +industrial democracy. This involves, not only that the factory must be +free, as far as possible, to manage its own affairs, but also that the +democratic unit of the factory must be made the basis of the larger +democracy of the Guild, and that the larger organs of Guild +administration and government must be based largely on the principle +of factory representation." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. 40.] + +Factory is, of course, a very loose word, and Mr. Cole asks us to take +it as meaning mines, shipyards, docks, stations, and every place which +is "a natural center of production." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. +41] But a factory in this sense is quite a different thing from an +industry. The factory, as Mr. Cole conceives it, is a work place where +men are really in personal contact, an environment small enough to be +known directly to all the workers. "This democracy if it is to be +real, must come home to, and be exercisable directly by, every +individual member of the Guild." [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. 40.] +This is important, because Mr. Cole, like Jefferson, is seeking a +natural unit of government. The only natural unit is a perfectly +familiar environment. Now a large plant, a railway system, a great +coal field, is not a natural unit in this sense. Unless it is a very +small factory indeed, what Mr. Cole is really thinking about is the +shop. That is where men can be supposed to have "the habit and +tradition of working together." The rest of the plant, the rest of the +industry, is an inferred environment. + +4 + +Anybody can see, and almost everybody will admit, that self-government +in the purely internal affairs of the shop is government of affairs +that "can be taken in at a single view." [Footnote: Aristotle, +_Politics_, Bk. VII, Ch. IV.] But dispute would arise as to what +constitute the internal affairs of a shop. Obviously the biggest +interests, like wages, standards of production, the purchase of +supplies, the marketing of the product, the larger planning of work, +are by no means purely internal. The shop democracy has freedom, +subject to enormous limiting conditions from the outside. It can deal +to a certain extent with the arrangement of work laid out for the +shop, it can deal with the temper and temperament of individuals, it +can administer petty industrial justice, and act as a court of first +instance in somewhat larger individual disputes. Above all it can act +as a unit in dealing with other shops, and perhaps with the plant as a +whole. But isolation is impossible. The unit of industrial democracy +is thoroughly entangled in foreign affairs. And it is the management +of these external relations that constitutes the test of the guild +socialist theory. + +They have to be managed by representative government arranged in a +federal order from the shop to the plant, the plant to the industry, +the industry to the nation, with intervening regional grouping of +representatives. But all this structure derives from the shop, and all +its peculiar virtues are ascribed to this source. The representatives +who choose the representatives who choose the representatives who +finally "coordinate" and "regulate" the shops are elected, Mr. Cole +asserts, by a true democracy. Because they come originally from a +self-governing unit, the whole federal organism will be inspired by +the spirit and the reality of self-government. Representatives will +aim to carry out the workers' "actual will as understood by themselves," +[Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. 42.] that is, as understood by the +individual in the shops. + +A government run literally on this principle would, if history is any +guide, be either a perpetual logroll, or a chaos of warring shops. For +while the worker in the shop can have a real opinion about matters +entirely within the shop, his "will" about the relation of that shop +to the plant, the industry, and the nation is subject to all the +limitations of access, stereotype, and self-interest that surround any +other self-centered opinion. His experience in the shop at best brings +only aspects of the whole to his attention. His opinion of what is +right within the shop he can reach by direct knowledge of the +essential facts. His opinion of what is right in the great complicated +environment out of sight is more likely to be wrong than right if it +is a generalization from the experience of the individual shop. As a +matter of experience, the representatives of a guild society would +find, just as the higher trade union officials find today, that on a +great number of questions which they have to decide there is no +"actual will as understood" by the shops. + +5 + +The guildsmen insist, however, that such criticism is blind because it +ignores a great political discovery. You may be quite right, they +would say, in thinking that the representatives of the shops would +have to make up their own minds on many questions about which the +shops have no opinion. But you are simply entangled in an ancient +fallacy: you are looking for somebody to represent a group of people. +He cannot be found. The only representative possible is one who acts +for "some particular function," [Footnote: _Op. cit._, pp. 23-24.] +and therefore each person must help choose as many representatives "as +there are distinct essential groups of functions to be performed." + +Assume then that the representatives speak, not for the men in the +shops, but for certain functions in which the men are interested. They +are, mind you, disloyal if they do not carry out the will of the group +about the function, as understood by the group. [Footnote: _Cf._ +Part V, "The Making of a Common Will."] These functional +representatives meet. Their business is to coordinate and regulate. By +what standard does each judge the proposals of the other, assuming, as +we must, that there is conflict of opinion between the shops, since if +there were not, there would be no need to coordinate and regulate? + +Now the peculiar virtue of functional democracy is supposed to be that +men vote candidly according to their own interests, which it is +assumed they know by daily experience. They can do that within the +self-contained group. But in its external relations the group as a +whole, or its representative, is dealing with matters that transcend +immediate experience. The shop does not arrive spontaneously at a view +of the whole situation. Therefore, the public opinions of a shop about +its rights and duties in the industry and in society, are matters of +education or propaganda, not the automatic product of shop-consciousness. +Whether the guildsmen elect a delegate, or a representative, they do +not escape the problem of the orthodox democrat. Either the group +as a whole, or the elected spokesman, must stretch his mind beyond +the limits of direct experience. He must vote on questions coming up +from other shops, and on matters coming from beyond the frontiers of +the whole industry. The primary interest of the shop does not even +cover the function of a whole industrial vocation. The function of a +vocation, a great industry, a district, a nation is a concept, not an +experience, and has to be imagined, invented, taught and believed. +And even though you define function as carefully as possible, once +you admit that the view of each shop on that function will not +necessarily coincide with the view of other shops, you are saying +that the representative of one interest is concerned in the proposals +made by other interests. You are saying that he must conceive a +common interest. And in voting for him you are choosing a man who +will not simply represent your view of your function, which is all that +you know at first hand, but a man who will represent your views +about other people's views of that function. You are voting as +indefinitely as the orthodox democrat. + +6 + +The guildsmen in their own minds have solved the question of how to +conceive a common interest by playing with the word function. They +imagine a society in which all the main work of the world has been +analysed into functions, and these functions in turn synthesized +harmoniously. [Footnote: _Cf. op. cit._, Ch. XIX.] They suppose +essential agreement about the purposes of society as a whole, and +essential agreement about the role of every organized group in +carrying out those purposes. It was a nice sentiment, therefore, which +led them to take the name of their theory from an institution that +arose in a Catholic feudal society. But they should remember that the +scheme of function which the wise men of that age assumed was not +worked out by mortal man. It is unclear how the guildsmen think the +scheme is going to be worked out and made acceptable in the modern +world. Sometimes they seem to argue that the scheme will develop from +trade union organization, at other times that the communes will define +the constitutional function of the groups. But it makes a considerable +practical difference whether they believe that the groups define their +own functions or not. + +In either case, Mr. Cole assumes that society can be carried on by a +social contract based on an accepted idea of "distinct essential +groups of functions." How does one recognize these distinct essential +groups? So far as I can make out, Mr. Cole thinks that a function is +what a group of people are interested in. "The essence of functional +democracy is that a man should count as many times over as there are +functions in which he is interested." [Footnote: _Social Theory,_ +p. 102 _et seq._] Now there are at least two meanings to the word +interested. You can use it to mean that a man is involved, or that his +mind is occupied. John Smith, for example, may have been tremendously +interested in the Stillman divorce case. He may have read every word +of the news in every lobster edition. On the other hand, young Guy +Stillman, whose legitimacy was at stake, probably did not trouble +himself at all. John Smith was interested in a suit that did not +affect his "interests," and Guy was uninterested in one that would +determine the whole course of his life. Mr. Cole, I am afraid, leans +towards John Smith. He is answering the "very foolish objection" that +to vote by functions is to be voting very often: "If a man is not +interested enough to vote, and cannot be aroused to interest enough to +make him vote, on, say, a dozen distinct subjects, he waives his right +to vote and the result is no less democratic than if he voted blindly +and without interest." + +Mr. Cole thinks that the uninstructed voter "waives his right to +vote." From this it follows that the votes of the instructed reveal +their interest, and their interest defines the function. [Footnote: +_Cf._ Ch. XVIII of this book. "Since everybody was assumed to be +interested enough in important affairs, only those affairs came to +seem important in which everybody was interested."] "Brown, Jones, and +Robinson must therefore have, not one vote each, but as many different +functional votes as there are different questions calling for +associative action in which they are interested." [Footnote: _Guild +Socialism,_ p. 24. ] I am considerably in doubt whether Mr. Cole +thinks that Brown, Jones and Robinson should qualify in any election +where they assert that they are interested, or that somebody else, not +named, picks the functions in which they are entitled to be +interested. If I were asked to say what I believe Mr. Cole thinks, it +would be that he has smoothed over the difficulty by the enormously +strange assumption that it is the uninstructed voter who waives his +right to vote; and has concluded that whether functional voting is +arranged by a higher power, or "from below" on the principle that a +man may vote when it interests him to vote, only the instructed will +be voting anyway, and therefore the institution will work. + +But there are two kinds of uninstructed voter. There is the man who +does not know and knows that he does not know. He is generally an +enlightened person. He is the man who waives his right to vote. But +there is also the man who is uninstructed and does not know that he +is, or care. He can always be gotten to the polls, if the party +machinery is working. His vote is the basis of the machine. And since +the communes of the guild society have large powers over taxation, +wages, prices, credit, and natural resources, it would be preposterous +to assume that elections will not be fought at least as passionately +as our own. + +The way people exhibit their interest will not then delimit the +functions of a functional society. There are two other ways that +function might be defined. One would be by the trade unions which +fought the battle that brought guild socialism into being. Such a +struggle would harden groups of men together in some sort of +functional relation, and these groups would then become the vested +interests of the guild socialist society. Some of them, like the +miners and railroad men, would be very strong, and probably deeply +attached to the view of their function which they learned from the +battle with capitalism. It is not at all unlikely that certain +favorably placed trade unions would under a socialist state become the +center of coherence and government. But a guild society would +inevitably find them a tough problem to deal with, for direct action +would have revealed their strategic power, and some of their leaders +at least would not offer up this power readily on the altar of +freedom. In order to "coordinate" them, guild society would have to +gather together its strength, and fairly soon one would find, I think, +that the radicals under guild socialism would be asking for communes +strong enough to define the functions of the guilds. + +But if you are going to have the government (commune) define +functions, the premise of the theory disappears. It had to suppose +that a scheme of functions was obvious in order that the concave shops +would voluntarily relate themselves to society. If there is no settled +scheme of functions in every voter's head, he has no better way under +guild socialism than under orthodox democracy of turning a +self-centered opinion into a social judgment. And, of course, there +can be no such settled scheme, because, even if Mr. Cole and his +friends devised a good one, the shop democracies from which all power +derives, would judge the scheme in operation by what they learn of it +and by what they can imagine. The guilds would see the same scheme +differently. And so instead of the scheme being the skeleton that +keeps guild society together, the attempt to define what the scheme +ought to be, would be under guild socialism as elsewhere, the main +business of politics. If we could allow Mr. Cole his scheme of +functions we could allow him almost everything. Unfortunately he has +inserted in his premise what he wishes a guild society to +deduce. [Footnote: I have dealt with Mr. Cole's theory rather than with +the experience of Soviet Russia because, while the testimony is +fragmentary, all competent observers seem to agree that Russia in 1921 +does not illustrate a communist state in working order. Russia is in +revolution, and what you can learn from Russia is what a revolution is +like. You can learn very little about what a communist society would +be like. It is, however, immensely significant that, first as +practical revolutionists and then as public officials, the Russian +communists have relied not upon the spontaneous democracy of the +Russian people, but on the discipline, special interest and the +noblesse oblige of a specialized class-the loyal and indoctrinated +members of the Communist party. In the "transition," on which no time +limit has been set, I believe, the cure for class government and the +coercive state is strictly homeopathic. + +There is also the question of why I selected Mr. Cole's books rather +than the much more closely reasoned "Constitution for the Socialist +Commonwealth of Great Britain" by Sidney and Beatrice Webb. I admire +that book very much; but I have not been able to convince myself that +it is not an intellectual tour de force. Mr. Cole seems to me far more +authentically in the spirit of the socialist movement, and therefore, +a better witness.] + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A NEW IMAGE + +1 + +THE lesson is, I think, a fairly clear one. In the absence of +institutions and education by which the environment is so successfully +reported that the realities of public life stand out sharply against +self-centered opinion, the common interests very largely elude public +opinion entirely, and can be managed only by a specialized class whose +personal interests reach beyond the locality. This class is +irresponsible, for it acts upon information that is not common +property, in situations that the public at large does not conceive, +and it can be held to account only on the accomplished fact. + +The democratic theory by failing to admit that self-centered opinions +are not sufficient to procure good government, is involved in +perpetual conflict between theory and practice. According to the +theory, the full dignity of man requires that his will should be, as +Mr. Cole says, expressed "in any and every form of social action." It +is supposed that the expression of their will is the consuming passion +of men, for they are assumed to possess by instinct the art of +government. But as a matter of plain experience, self-determination is +only one of the many interests of a human personality. The desire to +be the master of one's own destiny is a strong desire, but it has to +adjust itself to other equally strong desires, such as the desire for +a good life, for peace, for relief from burdens. In the original +assumptions of democracy it was held that the expression of each man's +will would spontaneously satisfy not only his desire for +self-expression, but his desire for a good life, because the instinct +to express one's self in a good life was innate. + +The emphasis, therefore, has always been on the mechanism for +expressing the will. The democratic El Dorado has always been some +perfect environment, and some perfect system of voting and +representation, where the innate good will and instinctive +statesmanship of every man could be translated into action. In limited +areas and for brief periods the environment has been so favorable, +that is to say so isolated, and so rich in opportunity, that the +theory worked well enough to confirm men in thinking that it was sound +for all time and everywhere. Then when the isolation ended, and +society became complex, and men had to adjust themselves closely to +one another, the democrat spent his time trying to devise more perfect +units of voting, in the hope that somehow he would, as Mr. Cole says, +"get the mechanism right, and adjust it as far as possible to men's +social wills." But while the democratic theorist was busy at this, he +was far away from the actual interests of human nature. He was +absorbed by one interest: self-government. Mankind was interested in +all kinds of other things, in order, in its rights, in prosperity, in +sights and sounds and in not being bored. In so far as spontaneous +democracy does not satisfy their other interests, it seems to most men +most of the time to be an empty thing. Because the art of successful +self-government is not instinctive, men do not long desire +self-government for its own sake. They desire it for the sake of the +results. That is why the impulse to self-government is always +strongest as a protest against bad conditions. + +The democratic fallacy has been its preoccupation with the origin of +government rather than with the processes and results. The democrat +has always assumed that if political power could be derived in the +right way, it would be beneficent. His whole attention has been on the +source of power, since he is hypnotized by the belief that the great +thing is to express the will of the people, first because expression +is the highest interest of man, and second because the will is +instinctively good. But no amount of regulation at the source of a +river will completely control its behavior, and while democrats have +been absorbed in trying to find a good mechanism for originating +social power, that is to say a good mechanism of voting and +representation, they neglected almost every other interest of men. For +no matter how power originates, the crucial interest is in how power +is exercised. What determines the quality of civilization is the use +made of power. And that use cannot be controlled at the source. + +If you try to control government wholly at the source, you inevitably +make all the vital decisions invisible. For since there is no instinct +which automatically makes political decisions that produce a good +life, the men who actually exercise power not only fail to express the +will of the people, because on most questions no will exists, but they +exercise power according to opinions which are hidden from the +electorate. + +If, then, you root out of the democratic philosophy the whole +assumption in all its ramifications that government is instinctive, +and that therefore it can be managed by self-centered opinions, what +becomes of the democratic faith in the dignity of man? It takes a +fresh lease of life by associating itself with the whole personality +instead of with a meager aspect of it. For the traditional democrat +risked the dignity of man on one very precarious assumption, that he +would exhibit that dignity instinctively in wise laws and good +government. Voters did not do that, and so the democrat was forever +being made to look a little silly by tough-minded men. But if, instead +of hanging human dignity on the one assumption about self-government, +you insist that man's dignity requires a standard of living, in which +his capacities are properly exercised, the whole problem changes. The +criteria which you then apply to government are whether it is +producing a certain minimum of health, of decent housing, of material +necessities, of education, of freedom, of pleasures, of beauty, not +simply whether at the sacrifice of all these things, it vibrates to +the self-centered opinions that happen to be floating around in men's +minds. In the degree to which these criteria can be made exact and +objective, political decision, which is inevitably the concern of +comparatively few people, is actually brought into relation with the +interests of men. + +There is no prospect, in any time which we can conceive, that the +whole invisible environment will be so clear to all men that they will +spontaneously arrive at sound public opinions on the whole business of +government. And even if there were a prospect, it is extremely +doubtful whether many of us would wish to be bothered, or would take +the time to form an opinion on "any and every form of social action" +which affects us. The only prospect which is not visionary is that +each of us in his own sphere will act more and more on a realistic +picture of the invisible world, and that we shall develop more and +more men who are expert in keeping these pictures realistic. Outside +the rather narrow range of our own possible attention, social control +depends upon devising standards of living and methods of audit by +which the acts of public officials and industrial directors are +measured. We cannot ourselves inspire or guide all these acts, as the +mystical democrat has always imagined. But we can steadily increase +our real control over these acts by insisting that all of them shall +be plainly recorded, and their results objectively measured. I should +say, perhaps, that we can progressively hope to insist. For the +working out of such standards and of such audits has only begun. + + + + +PART VII + +NEWSPAPERS + +CHAPTER XXI. THE BUYING PUBLIC + " XXII. THE CONSTANT READER + " XXIII. THE NATURE OF NEWS + " XXIV. NEWS, TRUTH, AND A CONCLUSION + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE BUYING PUBLIC + +1 + +THE idea that men have to go forth and study the world in order to +govern it, has played a very minor part in political thought. It could +figure very little, because the machinery for reporting the world in +any way useful to government made comparatively little progress from +the time of Aristotle to the age in which the premises of democracy +were established. + +Therefore, if you had asked a pioneer democrat where the information +was to come from on which the will of the people was to be based, he +would have been puzzled by the question. It would have seemed a little +as if you had asked him where his life or his soul came from. The will +of the people, he almost always assumed, exists at all times; the duty +of political science was to work out the inventions of the ballot and +representative government. If they were properly worked out and +applied under the right conditions, such as exist in the +self-contained village or the self-contained shop, the mechanism would +somehow overcome the brevity of attention which Aristotle had +observed, and the narrowness of its range, which the theory of a +self-contained community tacitly acknowledged. We have seen how even +at this late date the guild socialists are transfixed by the notion +that if only you can build on the right unit of voting and +representation, an intricate cooperative commonwealth is possible. + +Convinced that the wisdom was there if only you could find it, +democrats have treated the problem of making public opinions as a +problem in civil liberties. [Footnote: The best study is Prof. +Zechariah Chafee's, _Freedom of Speech_.] "Who ever knew Truth +put to the worse, in a free and open encounter?" [Footnote: Milton, +_Areopagitica_, cited at the opening of Mr. Chafee's book. For +comment on this classic doctrine of liberty as stated by Milton, John +Stuart Mill, and Mr. Bertrand Russel, see my _Liberty and the +News_, Ch. II.] Supposing that no one has ever seen it put to the +worse, are we to believe then that the truth is generated by the +encounter, like fire by rubbing two sticks? Behind this classic +doctrine of liberty, which American democrats embodied in their Bill +of Rights, there are, in fact, several different theories of the +origin of truth. One is a faith that in the competition of opinions, +the truest will win because there is a peculiar strength in the truth. +This is probably sound if you allow the competition to extend over a +sufficiently long time. When men argue in this vein they have in mind +the verdict of history, and they think specifically of heretics +persecuted when they lived, canonized after they were dead. Milton's +question rests also on a belief that the capacity to recognize truth +is inherent in all men, and that truth freely put in circulation will +win acceptance. It derives no less from the experience, which has +shown that men are not likely to discover truth if they cannot speak +it, except under the eye of an uncomprehending policeman. + +No one can possibly overestimate the practical value of these civil +liberties, nor the importance of maintaining them. When they are in +jeopardy, the human spirit is in jeopardy, and should there come a +time when they have to be curtailed, as during a war, the suppression +of thought is a risk to civilization which might prevent its recovery +from the effects of war, if the hysterics, who exploit the necessity, +were numerous enough to carry over into peace the taboos of war. +Fortunately, the mass of men is too tolerant long to enjoy the +professional inquisitors, as gradually, under the criticism of men not +willing to be terrorized, they are revealed as mean-spirited creatures +who nine-tenths of the time do not know what they are talking +about. [Footnote: _Cf._ for example, the publications of the Lusk +Committee in New York, and the public statements and prophecies of Mr. +Mitchell Palmer, who was Attorney-General of the United States during +the period of President Wilson's illness.] + +But in spite of its fundamental importance, civil liberty in this +sense does not guarantee public opinion in the modern world. For it +always assumes, either that truth is spontaneous, or that the means of +securing truth exist when there is no external interference. But when +you are dealing with an invisible environment, the assumption is +false. The truth about distant or complex matters is not self-evident, +and the machinery for assembling information is technical and +expensive. Yet political science, and especially democratic political +science, has never freed itself from the original assumption of +Aristotle's politics sufficiently to restate the premises, so that +political thought might come to grips with the problem of how to make +the invisible world visible to the citizens of a modern state. + +So deep is the tradition, that until quite recently, for example, +political science was taught in our colleges as if newspapers did not +exist. I am not referring to schools of journalism, for they are trade +schools, intended to prepare men and women for a career. I am +referring to political science as expounded to future business men, +lawyers, public officials, and citizens at large. In that science a +study of the press and the sources of popular information found no +place. It is a curious fact. To anyone not immersed in the routine +interests of political science, it is almost inexplicable that no +American student of government, no American sociologist, has ever +written a book on news-gathering. There are occasional references to +the press, and statements that it is not, or that it ought to be, +"free" and "truthful." But I can find almost nothing else. And this +disdain of the professionals finds its counterpart in public opinions. +Universally it is admitted that the press is the chief means of +contact with the unseen environment. And practically everywhere it is +assumed that the press should do spontaneously for us what primitive +democracy imagined each of us could do spontaneously for himself, that +every day and twice a day it will present us with a true picture of +all the outer world in which we are interested. + +2 + +This insistent and ancient belief that truth is not earned, but +inspired, revealed, supplied gratis, comes out very plainly in our +economic prejudices as readers of newspapers. We expect the newspaper +to serve us with truth however unprofitable the truth may be. For this +difficult and often dangerous service, which we recognize as +fundamental, we expected to pay until recently the smallest coin +turned out by the mint. We have accustomed ourselves now to paying two +and even three cents on weekdays, and on Sundays, for an illustrated +encyclopedia and vaudeville entertainment attached, we have screwed +ourselves up to paying a nickel or even a dime. Nobody thinks for a +moment that he ought to pay for his newspaper. He expects the +fountains of truth to bubble, but he enters into no contract, legal or +moral, involving any risk, cost or trouble to himself. He will pay a +nominal price when it suits him, will stop paying whenever it suits +him, will turn to another paper when that suits him. Somebody has said +quite aptly that the newspaper editor has to be re-elected every day. + +This casual and one-sided relationship between readers and press is an +anomaly of our civilization. There is nothing else quite like it, and +it is, therefore, hard to compare the press with any other business or +institution. It is not a business pure and simple, partly because the +product is regularly sold below cost, but chiefly because the +community applies one ethical measure to the press and another to +trade or manufacture. Ethically a newspaper is judged as if it were a +church or a school. But if you try to compare it with these you fail; +the taxpayer pays for the public school, the private school is endowed +or supported by tuition fees, there are subsidies and collections for +the church. You cannot compare journalism with law, medicine or +engineering, for in every one of these professions the consumer pays +for the service. A free press, if you judge by the attitude of the +readers, means newspapers that are virtually given away. + +Yet the critics of the press are merely voicing the moral standards of +the community, when they expect such an institution to live on the +same plane as that on which the school, the church, and the +disinterested professions are supposed to live. This illustrates again +the concave character of democracy. No need for artificially acquired +information is felt to exist. The information must come naturally, +that is to say gratis, if not out of the heart of the citizen, then +gratis out of the newspaper. The citizen will pay for his telephone, +his railroad rides, his motor car, his entertainment. But he does not +pay openly for his news. + +He will, however, pay handsomely for the privilege of having someone +read about him. He will pay directly to advertise. And he will pay +indirectly for the advertisements of other people, because that +payment, being concealed in the price of commodities is part of an +invisible environment that he does not effectively comprehend. It +would be regarded as an outrage to have to pay openly the price of a +good ice cream soda for all the news of the world, though the public +will pay that and more when it buys the advertised commodities. The +public pays for the press, but only when the payment is concealed. + +3 + +Circulation is, therefore, the means to an end. It becomes an asset +only when it can be sold to the advertiser, who buys it with revenues +secured through indirect taxation of the reader. [Footnote: "An +established newspaper is entitled to fix its advertising rates so that +its net receipts from circulation may be left on the credit side of +the profit and loss account. To arrive at net receipts, I would deduct +from the gross the cost of promotion, distribution, and other expenses +incidental to circulation." From an address by Mr. Adolph S. Ochs, +publisher of _the New York Times,_ at the Philadelphia Convention +of the Associated Advertising Clubs of The World, June 26, 1916. +Cited, Elmer Davis, _History of The New York Times,_ 1851-1921, +pp. 397-398.] The kind of circulation which the advertiser will buy +depends on what he has to sell. It may be "quality" or "mass." On the +whole there is no sharp dividing line, for in respect to most +commodities sold by advertising, the customers are neither the small +class of the very rich nor the very poor. They are the people with +enough surplus over bare necessities to exercise discretion in their +buying. The paper, therefore, which goes into the homes of the fairly +prosperous is by and large the one which offers most to the +advertiser. It may also go into the homes of the poor, but except for +certain lines of goods, an analytical advertising agent does not rate +that circulation as a great asset, unless, as seems to be the case +with certain of Mr. Hearst's properties, the circulation is enormous. + +A newspaper which angers those whom it pays best to reach through +advertisements is a bad medium for an advertiser. And since no one +ever claimed that advertising was philanthropy, advertisers buy space +in those publications which are fairly certain to reach their future +customers. One need not spend much time worrying about the unreported +scandals of the dry-goods merchants. They represent nothing really +significant, and incidents of this sort are less common than many +critics of the press suppose. The real problem is that the readers of +a newspaper, unaccustomed to paying the cost of newsgathering, can be +capitalized only by turning them into circulation that can be sold to +manufacturers and merchants. And those whom it is most important to +capitalize are those who have the most money to spend. Such a press is +bound to respect the point of view of the buying public. It is for +this buying public that newspapers are edited and published, for +without that support the newspaper cannot live. A newspaper can flout +an advertiser, it can attack a powerful banking or traction interest, +but if it alienates the buying public, it loses the one indispensable +asset of its existence. + +Mr. John L. Given, [Footnote: _Making a Newspaper_, p. 13. This +is the best technical book I know, and should be read by everyone who +undertakes to discuss the press. Mr. G. B. Diblee, who wrote the +volume on _The Newspaper_ in the Home University Library says (p. +253), that "on the press for pressmen I only know of one good book, +Mr. Given's."] formerly of the New York Evening Sun, stated in 1914 +that out of over two thousand three hundred dailies published in the +United States, there were about one hundred and seventy-five printed +in cities having over one hundred thousand inhabitants. These +constitute the press for "general news." They are the key papers which +collect the news dealing with great events, and even the people who do +not read any one of the one hundred and seventy-five depend ultimately +upon them for news of the outer world. For they make up the great +press associations which cooperate in the exchange of news. Each is, +therefore, not only the informant of its own readers, but it is the +local reporter for the newspapers of other cities. The rural press and +the special press by and large, take their general news from these key +papers. And among these there are some very much richer than others, +so that for international news, in the main, the whole press of the +nation may depend upon the reports of the press associations and the +special services of a few metropolitan dailies. + +Roughly speaking, the economic support for general news gathering is +in the price paid for advertised goods by the fairly prosperous +sections of cities with more than one hundred thousand inhabitants. +These buying publics are composed of the members of families, who +depend for their income chiefly on trade, merchandising, the direction +of manufacture, and finance. They are the clientele among whom it pays +best to advertise in a newspaper. They wield a concentrated purchasing +power, which may be less in volume than the aggregate for farmers and +workingmen; but within the radius covered by a daily newspaper they +are the quickest assets. + +4 + +They have, moreover, a double claim to attention. They are not only +the best customers for the advertiser, they include the advertisers. +Therefore the impression made by the newspapers on this public matters +deeply. Fortunately this public is not unanimous. It may be +"capitalistic" but it contains divergent views on what capitalism is, +and how it is to be run. Except in times of danger, this respectable +opinion is sufficiently divided to permit of considerable differences +of policy. These would be greater still if it were not that publishers +are themselves usually members of these urban communities, and +honestly see the world through the lenses of their associates and +friends. + +They are engaged in a speculative business, [Footnote: Sometimes so +speculative that in order to secure credit the publisher has to go +into bondage to his creditors. Information on this point is very +difficult to obtain, and for that reason its general importance is +often much exaggerated.] which depends on the general condition of +trade, and more peculiarly on a circulation based not on a marriage +contract with their readers, but on free love. The object of every +publisher is, therefore, to turn his circulation from a medley of +catch-as-catch-can news stand buyers into a devoted band of constant +readers. A newspaper that can really depend upon the loyalty of its +readers is as independent as a newspaper can be, given the economics +of modern journalism. [Footnote: "It is an axiom in newspaper +publishing--'more readers, more independence of the influence of +advertisers; fewer readers and more dependence on the advertiser' It +may seem like a contradiction (yet it is the truth) to assert: the +greater the number of advertisers, the less influence they are +individually able to exercise with the publisher." Adolph S. Ochs, +_of. supra._] A body of readers who stay by it through thick and +thin is a power greater than any which the individual advertiser can +wield, and a power great enough to break up a combination of +advertisers. Therefore, whenever you find a newspaper betraying its +readers for the sake of an advertiser, you can be fairly certain +either that the publisher sincerely shares the views of the +advertiser, or that he thinks, perhaps mistakenly, he cannot count +upon the support of his readers if he openly resists dictation. It is +a question of whether the readers, who do not pay in cash for their +news, will pay for it in loyalty. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE CONSTANT READER + +I + +THE loyalty of the buying public to a newspaper is not stipulated in +any bond. In almost every other enterprise the person who expects to +be served enters into an agreement that controls his passing whims. At +least he pays for what he obtains. In the publishing of periodicals +the nearest approach to an agreement for a definite time is the paid +subscription, and that is not, I believe, a great factor in the +economy of a metropolitan daily. The reader is the sole and the daily +judge of his loyalty, and there can be no suit against him for breach +of promise or nonsupport. + +Though everything turns on the constancy of the reader, there does not +exist even a vague tradition to call that fact to the reader's mind. +His constancy depends on how he happens to feel, or on his habits. And +these depend not simply on the quality of the news, but more often on +a number of obscure elements that in our casual relation to the press, +we hardly take the trouble to make conscious. The most important of +these is that each of us tends to judge a newspaper, if we judge it at +all, by its treatment of that part of the news in which we feel +ourselves involved. The newspaper deals with a multitude of events +beyond our experience. But it deals also with some events within our +experience. And by its handling of those events we most frequently +decide to like it or dislike it, to trust it or refuse to have the +sheet in the house. If the newspaper gives a satisfactory account of +that which we think we know, our business, our church, our party, it +is fairly certain to be immune from violent criticism by us. What +better criterion does the man at the breakfast table possess than that +the newspaper version checks up with his own opinion? Therefore, most +men tend to hold the newspaper most strictly accountable in their +capacity, not of general readers, but of special pleaders on matters +of their own experience. + +Rarely is anyone but the interested party able to test the accuracy of +a report. If the news is local, and if there is competition, the +editor knows that he will probably hear from the man who thinks his +portrait unfair and inaccurate. But if the news is not local, the +corrective diminishes as the subject matter recedes into the distance. +The only people who can correct what they think is a false picture of +themselves printed in another city are members of groups well enough +organized to hire publicity men. + +Now it is interesting to note that the general reader of a newspaper +has no standing in law if he thinks he is being misled by the news. It +is only the aggrieved party who can sue for slander or libel, and he +has to prove a material injury to himself. The law embodies the +tradition that general news is not a matter of common concern, +[Footnote: The reader will not mistake this as a plea for censorship. +It might, however, be a good thing if there were competent tribunals, +preferably not official ones, where charges of untruthfulness and +unfairness in the general news could be sifted. _Cf. Liberty and the +News,_ pp. 73-76. ] except as to matter which is vaguely described +as immoral or seditious. + +But the body of the news, though unchecked as a whole by the +disinterested reader, consists of items about which some readers have +very definite preconceptions. Those items are the data of his +judgment, and news which men read without this personal criterion, +they judge by some other standard than their standard of accuracy. +They are dealing here with a subject matter which to them is +indistinguishable from fiction. The canon of truth cannot be applied. +They do not boggle over such news if it conforms to their stereotypes, +and they continue to read it if it interests them. [Footnote: Note, for +example, how absent is indignation in Mr. Upton Sinclair against +socialist papers, even those which are as malignantly unfair to +employers as certain of the papers cited by him are unfair to +radicals.] + +2 + +There are newspapers, even in large cities, edited on the principle +that the readers wish to read about themselves. The theory is that if +enough people see their own names in the paper often enough, can read +about their weddings, funerals, sociables, foreign travels, lodge +meetings, school prizes, their fiftieth birthdays, their sixtieth +birthdays, their silver weddings, their outings and clambakes, they +will make a reliable circulation. + +The classic formula for such a newspaper is contained in a letter +written by Horace Greeley on April 3, 1860, to "Friend Fletcher" who +was about to start a country newspaper: [Footnote: Cited, James Melvin +Lee, _The History of American Journalism,_ p. 405.] + +"I. Begin with a clear conception that the subject of deepest interest +to an average human being is himself; next to that he is most +concerned about his neighbors. Asia and the Tongo Islands stand a long +way after these in his regard.... Do not let a new church be +organized, or new members be added to one already existing, a farm be +sold, a new house raised, a mill set in motion, a store opened, nor +anything of interest to a dozen families occur, without having the +fact duly, though briefly, chronicled in your columns. If a farmer +cuts a big tree, or grows a mammoth beet, or harvests a bounteous +yield of wheat or corn, set forth the fact as concisely and +unexceptionally as possible." + +The function of becoming, as Mr. Lee puts it, "the printed diary of +the home town" is one that every newspaper no matter where it is +published must in some measure fill. And where, as in a great city +like New York, the general newspapers circulated broadcast cannot fill +it, there exist small newspapers published on Greeley's pattern for +sections of the city. In the boroughs of Manhattan and the Bronx there +are perhaps twice as many local dailies as there are general +newspapers. [Footnote: _Cf._ John L. Given, _Making a Newspaper,_ +p. 13.] And they are supplemented by all kinds of special publications for +trades, religions, nationalities. + +These diaries are published for people who find their own lives +interesting. But there are also great numbers of people who find their +own lives dull, and wish, like Hedda Gabler, to live a more thrilling +life. For them there are published a few whole newspapers, and +sections of others, devoted to the personal lives of a set of +imaginary people, with whose gorgeous vices the reader can in his +fancy safely identify himself. Mr. Hearst's unflagging interest in +high society caters to people who never hope to be in high society, +and yet manage to derive some enhancement out of the vague feeling +that they are part of the life that they read about. In the great +cities "the printed diary of the home town" tends to be the printed +diary of a smart set. + +And it is, as we have already noted, the dailies of the cities which +carry the burden of bringing distant news to the private citizen. But +it is not primarily their political and social news which holds the +circulation. The interest in that is intermittent, and few publishers +can bank on it alone. The newspaper, therefore, takes to itself a +variety of other features, all primarily designed to hold a body of +readers together, who so far as big news is concerned, are not able to +be critical. Moreover, in big news the competition in any one +community is not very serious. The press services standardize the main +events; it is only once in a while that a great scoop is made; there +is apparently not a very great reading public for such massive +reporting as has made the New York Times of recent years indispensable +to men of all shades of opinion. In order to differentiate themselves +and collect a steady public most papers have to go outside the field +of general news. They go to the dazzling levels of society, to scandal +and crime, to sports, pictures, actresses, advice to the lovelorn, +highschool notes, women's pages, buyer's pages, cooking receipts, +chess, whist, gardening, comic strips, thundering partisanship, not +because publishers and editors are interested in everything but news, +but because they have to find some way of holding on to that alleged +host of passionately interested readers, who are supposed by some +critics of the press to be clamoring for the truth and nothing but the +truth. + +The newspaper editor occupies a strange position. His enterprises +depend upon indirect taxation levied by his advertisers upon his +readers; the patronage of the advertisers depends upon the editor's +skill in holding together an effective group of customers. These +customers deliver judgment according to their private experiences and +their stereotyped expectations, for in the nature of things they have +no independent knowledge of most news they read. If the judgment is +not unfavorable, the editor is at least within range of a circulation +that pays. But in order to secure that circulation, he cannot rely +wholly upon news of the greater environment. He handles that as +interestingly as he can, of course, but the quality of the general +news, especially about public affairs, is not in itself sufficient to +cause very large numbers of readers to discriminate among the dailies. + +This somewhat left-handed relationship between newspapers and public +information is reflected in the salaries of newspaper men. Reporting, +which theoretically constitutes the foundation of the whole +institution, is the most poorly paid branch of newspaper work, and is +the least regarded. By and large, able men go into it only by +necessity or for experience, and with the definite intention of being +graduated as soon as possible. For straight reporting is not a career +that offers many great rewards. The rewards in journalism go to +specialty work, to signed correspondence which has editorial quality, +to executives, and to men with a knack and flavor of their own. This +is due, no doubt, to what economists call the rent of ability. But +this economic principle operates with such peculiar violence in +journalism that newsgathering does not attract to itself anything like +the number of trained and able men which its public importance would +seem to demand. The fact that the able men take up "straight +reporting" with the intention of leaving it as soon as possible is, I +think, the chief reason why it has never developed in sufficient +measure those corporate traditions that give to a profession prestige +and a jealous self-respect. For it is these corporate traditions which +engender the pride of craft, which tend to raise the standards of +admission, punish breaches of the code, and give men the strength to +insist upon their status in society. + +3 + +Yet all this does not go to the root of the matter. For while the +economics of journalism is such as to depress the value of news +reporting, it is, I am certain, a false determinism which would +abandon the analysis at that point. The intrinsic power of the +reporter appears to be so great, the number of very able men who pass +through reporting is so large, that there must be some deeper reason +why, comparatively speaking, so little serious effort has gone into +raising the vocation to the level say of medicine, engineering, or +law. + +Mr. Upton Sinclair speaks for a large body of opinion in +America, [Footnote: Mr. Hilaire Belloc makes practically the same +analysis for English newspapers. _Cf. The Free Press._] when he +claims that in what he calls "The Brass Check" he has found this +deeper reason: + +"The Brass Check is found in your pay envelope every week--you who +write and print and distribute our newspapers and magazines. The Brass +check is the price of your shame--you who take the fair body of truth +and sell it in the market place, who betray the virgin hopes of +mankind into the loathsome brothel of Big Business." [Footnote: Upton +Sinclair, _The Brass Check. A Study of American Journalism._ p. +116.] + +It would seem from this that there exists a body of known truth, and a +set of well founded hopes, which are prostituted by a more or less +conscious conspiracy of the rich owners of newspapers. If this theory +is correct, then a certain conclusion follows. It is that the fair +body of truth would be inviolate in a press not in any way connected +with Big Business. For if it should happen that a press not controlled +by, and not even friendly with, Big Business somehow failed to contain +the fair body of truth, something would be wrong with Mr. Sinclair's +theory. + +There is such a press. Strange to say, in proposing a remedy Mr. +Sinclair does not advise his readers to subscribe to the nearest +radical newspaper. Why not? If the troubles of American journalism go +back to the Brass Check of Big Business why does not the remedy lie in +reading the papers that do not in any remote way accept the Brass +Check? Why subsidize a "National News" with a large board of directors +"of all creeds or causes" to print a paper full of facts "regardless +of what is injured, the Steel Trust or the I. W. W., the Standard Oil +Company or the Socialist Party?" If the trouble is Big Business, that +is, the Steel Trust, Standard Oil and the like, why not urge everybody +to read I. W. W. or Socialist papers? Mr. Sinclair does not say why +not. But the reason is simple. He cannot convince anybody, not even +himself, that the anti-capitalist press is the remedy for the +capitalist press. He ignores the anti-capitalist press both in his +theory of the Brass Check and in his constructive proposal. But if you +are diagnosing American journalism you cannot ignore it. If what you +care about is "the fair body of truth," you do not commit the gross +logical error of assembling all the instances of unfairness and lying +you can find in one set of newspapers, ignore all the instances you +could easily find in another set, and then assign as the cause of the +lying, the one supposedly common characteristic of the press to which +you have confined your investigation. If you are going to blame +"capitalism" for the faults of the press, you are compelled to prove +that those faults do not exist except where capitalism controls. That +Mr. Sinclair cannot do this, is shown by the fact that while in his +diagnosis he traces everything to capitalism, in his prescription he +ignores both capitalism and anti-capitalism. + +One would have supposed that the inability to take any non-capitalist +paper as a model of truthfulness and competence would have caused Mr. +Sinclair, and those who agree with him, to look somewhat more +critically at their assumptions. They would have asked themselves, for +example, where is the fair body of truth, that Big Business +prostitutes, but anti-Big Business does not seem to obtain? For that +question leads, I believe, to the heart of the matter, to the question +of what is news. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE NATURE OF NEWS + +1 + +ALL the reporters in the world working all the hours of the day could +not witness all the happenings in the world. There are not a great +many reporters. And none of them has the power to be in more than one +place at a time. Reporters are not clairvoyant, they do not gaze into +a crystal ball and see the world at will, they are not assisted by +thought-transference. Yet the range of subjects these comparatively +few men manage to cover would be a miracle indeed, if it were not a +standardized routine. + +Newspapers do not try to keep an eye on all mankind. [Footnote: See the +illuminating chapter in Mr. John L. Given's book, already cited, on +"Uncovering the News," Ch. V.] They have watchers stationed at certain +places, like Police Headquarters, the Coroner's Office, the County +Clerk's Office, City Hall, the White House, the Senate, House of +Representatives, and so forth. They watch, or rather in the majority +of cases they belong to associations which employ men who watch "a +comparatively small number of places where it is made known when the +life of anyone... departs from ordinary paths, or when events worth +telling about occur. For example, John Smith, let it be supposed, +becomes a broker. For ten years he pursues the even tenor of his way +and except for his customers and his friends no one gives him a +thought. To the newspapers he is as if he were not. But in the +eleventh year he suffers heavy losses and, at last, his resources all +gone, summons his lawyer and arranges for the making of an assignment. +The lawyer posts off to the County Clerk's office, and a clerk there +makes the necessary entries in the official docket. Here in step the +newspapers. While the clerk is writing Smith's business obituary a +reporter glances over his shoulder and a few minutes later the +reporters know Smith's troubles and are as well informed concerning +his business status as they would be had they kept a reporter at his +door every day for over ten years. [Footnote: _Op. cit._, p. 57.] + +When Mr. Given says that the newspapers know "Smith's troubles" and +"his business status," he does not mean that they know them as Smith +knows them, or as Mr. Arnold Bennett would know them if he had made +Smith the hero of a three volume novel. The newspapers know only "in a +few minutes" the bald facts which are recorded in the County Clerk's +Office. That overt act "uncovers" the news about Smith. Whether the +news will be followed up or not is another matter. The point is that +before a series of events become news they have usually to make +themselves noticeable in some more or less overt act. Generally too, +in a crudely overt act. Smith's friends may have known for years that +he was taking risks, rumors may even have reached the financial editor +if Smith's friends were talkative. But apart from the fact that none +of this could be published because it would be libel, there is in +these rumors nothing definite on which to peg a story. Something +definite must occur that has unmistakable form. It may be the act of +going into bankruptcy, it may be a fire, a collision, an assault, a +riot, an arrest, a denunciation, the introduction of a bill, a speech, +a vote, a meeting, the expressed opinion of a well known citizen, an +editorial in a newspaper, a sale, a wage-schedule, a price change, the +proposal to build a bridge.... There must be a manifestation. The +course of events must assume a certain definable shape, and until it +is in a phase where some aspect is an accomplished fact, news does not +separate itself from the ocean of possible truth. + +2 + +Naturally there is room for wide difference of opinion as to when +events have a shape that can be reported. A good journalist will find +news oftener than a hack. If he sees a building with a dangerous list, +he does not have to wait until it falls into the street in order to +recognize news. It was a great reporter who guessed the name of the +next Indian Viceroy when he heard that Lord So-and-So was inquiring +about climates. There are lucky shots but the number of men who can +make them is small. Usually it is the stereotyped shape assumed by an +event at an obvious place that uncovers the run of the news. The most +obvious place is where people's affairs touch public authority. De +minimis non curat lex. It is at these places that marriages, births, +deaths, contracts, failures, arrivals, departures, lawsuits, +disorders, epidemics and calamities are made known. + +In the first instance, therefore, the news is not a mirror of social +conditions, but the report of an aspect that has obtruded itself. The +news does not tell you how the seed is germinating in the ground, but +it may tell you when the first sprout breaks through the surface. It +may even tell you what somebody says is happening to the seed under +ground. It may tell you that the sprout did not come up at the time it +was expected. The more points, then, at which any happening can be +fixed, objectified, measured, named, the more points there are at +which news can occur. + +So, if some day a legislature, having exhausted all other ways of +improving mankind, should forbid the scoring of baseball games, it +might still be possible to play some sort of game in which the umpire +decided according to his own sense of fair play how long the game +should last, when each team should go to bat, and who should be +regarded as the winner. If that game were reported in the newspapers +it would consist of a record of the umpire's decisions, plus the +reporter's impression of the hoots and cheers of the crowd, plus at +best a vague account of how certain men, who had no specified position +on the field moved around for a few hours on an unmarked piece of sod. +The more you try to imagine the logic of so absurd a predicament, the +more clear it becomes that for the purposes of newsgathering, (let +alone the purposes of playing the game) it is impossible to do much +without an apparatus and rules for naming, scoring, recording. Because +that machinery is far from perfect, the umpire's life is often a +distracted one. Many crucial plays he has to judge by eye. The last +vestige of dispute could be taken out of the game, as it has been +taken out of chess when people obey the rules, if somebody thought it +worth his while to photograph every play. It was the moving pictures +which finally settled a real doubt in many reporters' minds, owing to +the slowness of the human eye, as to just what blow of Dempsey's +knocked out Carpentier. + +Wherever there is a good machinery of record, the modern news service +works with great precision. There is one on the stock exchange, and +the news of price movements is flashed over tickers with dependable +accuracy. There is a machinery for election returns, and when the +counting and tabulating are well done, the result of a national +election is usually known on the night of the election. In civilized +communities deaths, births, marriages and divorces are recorded, and +are known accurately except where there is concealment or neglect. The +machinery exists for some, and only some, aspects of industry and +government, in varying degrees of precision for securities, money and +staples, bank clearances, realty transactions, wage scales. It exists +for imports and exports because they pass through a custom house and +can be directly recorded. It exists in nothing like the same degree +for internal trade, and especially for trade over the counter. + +It will be found, I think, that there is a very direct relation +between the certainty of news and the system of record. If you call to +mind the topics which form the principal indictment by reformers +against the press, you find they are subjects in which the newspaper +occupies the position of the umpire in the unscored baseball game. All +news about states of mind is of this character: so are all +descriptions of personalities, of sincerity, aspiration, motive, +intention, of mass feeling, of national feeling, of public opinion, +the policies of foreign governments. So is much news about what is +going to happen. So are questions turning on private profit, private +income, wages, working conditions, the efficiency of labor, +educational opportunity, unemployment, [Footnote: Think of what guess +work went into the Reports of Unemployment in 1921.] monotony, health, +discrimination, unfairness, restraint of trade, waste, "backward +peoples," conservatism, imperialism, radicalism, liberty, honor, +righteousness. All involve data that are at best spasmodically +recorded. The data may be hidden because of a censorship or a +tradition of privacy, they may not exist because nobody thinks record +important, because he thinks it red tape, or because nobody has yet +invented an objective system of measurement. Then the news on these +subjects is bound to be debatable, when it is not wholly neglected. +The events which are not scored are reported either as personal and +conventional opinions, or they are not news. They do not take shape +until somebody protests, or somebody investigates, or somebody +publicly, in the etymological meaning of the word, makes an +_issue_ of them. + +This is the underlying reason for the existence of the press agent. +The enormous discretion as to what facts and what impressions shall be +reported is steadily convincing every organized group of people that +whether it wishes to secure publicity or to avoid it, the exercise of +discretion cannot be left to the reporter. It is safer to hire a press +agent who stands between the group and the newspapers. Having hired +him, the temptation to exploit his strategic position is very great. +"Shortly before the war," says Mr. Frank Cobb, "the newspapers of New +York took a census of the press agents who were regularly employed and +regularly accredited and found that there were about twelve hundred of +them. How many there are now (1919) I do not pretend to know, but what +I do know is that many of the direct channels to news have been closed +and the information for the public is first filtered through publicity +agents. The great corporations have them, the banks have them, the +railroads have them, all the organizations of business and of social +and political activity have them, and they are the media through which +news comes. Even statesmen have them." [Footnote: Address before the +Women's City Club of New York, Dec. 11, 1919. Reprinted, _New +Republic_, Dec. 31, 1919, p. 44.] + +Were reporting the simple recovery of obvious facts, the press agent +would be little more than a clerk. But since, in respect to most of +the big topics of news, the facts are not simple, and not at all +obvious, but subject to choice and opinion, it is natural that +everyone should wish to make his own choice of facts for the +newspapers to print. The publicity man does that. And in doing it, he +certainly saves the reporter much trouble, by presenting him a clear +picture of a situation out of which he might otherwise make neither +head nor tail. But it follows that the picture which the publicity man +makes for the reporter is the one he wishes the public to see. He is +censor and propagandist, responsible only to his employers, and to the +whole truth responsible only as it accords with the employers' +conception of his own interests. + +The development of the publicity man is a clear sign that the facts of +modern life do not spontaneously take a shape in which they can be +known. They must be given a shape by somebody, and since in the daily +routine reporters cannot give a shape to facts, and since there is +little disinterested organization of intelligence, the need for some +formulation is being met by the interested parties. + +3 + +The good press agent understands that the virtues of his cause are not +news, unless they are such strange virtues that they jut right out of +the routine of life. This is not because the newspapers do not like +virtue, but because it is not worth while to say that nothing has +happened when nobody expected anything to happen. So if the publicity +man wishes free publicity he has, speaking quite accurately, to start +something. He arranges a stunt: obstructs the traffic, teases the +police, somehow manages to entangle his client or his cause with an +event that is already news. The suffragists knew this, did not +particularly enjoy the knowledge but acted on it, and kept suffrage in +the news long after the arguments pro and con were straw in their +mouths, and people were about to settle down to thinking of the +suffrage movement as one of the established institutions of American +life. [Footnote: _Cf._ Inez Haynes Irwin, _The Story of the +Woman's Party._ It is not only a good account of a vital part of a +great agitation, but a reservoir of material on successful, +non-revolutionary, non-conspiring agitation under modern conditions of +public attention, public interest, and political habit.] + +Fortunately the suffragists, as distinct from the feminists, had a +perfectly concrete objective, and a very simple one. What the vote +symbolizes is not simple, as the ablest advocates and the ablest +opponents knew. But the right to vote is a simple and familiar right. +Now in labor disputes, which are probably the chief item in the +charges against newspapers, the right to strike, like the right to +vote, is simple enough. But the causes and objects of a particular +strike are like the causes and objects of the woman's movement, +extremely subtle. + +Let us suppose the conditions leading up to a strike are bad. What is +the measure of evil? A certain conception of a proper standard of +living, hygiene, economic security, and human dignity. The industry +may be far below the theoretical standard of the community, and the +workers may be too wretched to protest. Conditions may be above the +standard, and the workers may protest violently. The standard is at +best a vague measure. However, we shall assume that the conditions are +below par, as par is understood by the editor. Occasionally without +waiting for the workers to threaten, but prompted say by a social +worker, he will send reporters to investigate, and will call attention +to bad conditions. Necessarily he cannot do that often. For these +investigations cost time, money, special talent, and a lot of space. +To make plausible a report that conditions are bad, you need a good +many columns of print. In order to tell the truth about the steel +worker in the Pittsburgh district, there was needed a staff of +investigators, a great deal of time, and several fat volumes of print. +It is impossible to suppose that any daily newspaper could normally +regard the making of Pittsburgh Surveys, or even Interchurch Steel +Reports, as one of its tasks. News which requires so much trouble as +that to obtain is beyond the resources of a daily press. [Footnote: Not +long ago Babe Ruth was jailed for speeding. Released from jail just +before the afternoon game started, he rushed into his waiting +automobile, and made up for time lost in jail by breaking the speed +laws on his way to the ball grounds. No policeman stopped him, but a +reporter timed him, and published his speed the next morning. Babe +Ruth is an exceptional man. Newspapers cannot time all motorists. They +have to take their news about speeding from the police.] + +The bad conditions as such are not news, because in all but +exceptional cases, journalism is not a first hand report of the raw +material. It is a report of that material after it has been stylized. +Thus bad conditions might become news if the Board of Health reported +an unusually high death rate in an industrial area. Failing an +intervention of this sort, the facts do not become news, until the +workers organize and make a demand upon their employers. Even then, if +an easy settlement is certain the news value is low, whether or not +the conditions themselves are remedied in the settlement. But if +industrial relations collapse into a strike or lockout the news value +increases. If the stoppage involves a service on which the readers of +the newspapers immediately depend, or if it involves a breach of +order, the news value is still greater. + +The underlying trouble appears in the news through certain easily +recognizable symptoms, a demand, a strike, disorder. From the point of +view of the worker, or of the disinterested seeker of justice, the +demand, the strike, and the disorder, are merely incidents in a +process that for them is richly complicated. But since all the +immediate realities lie outside the direct experience both of the +reporter, and of the special public by which most newspapers are +supported, they have normally to wait for a signal in the shape of an +overt act. When that signal comes, say through a walkout of the men or +a summons for the police, it calls into play the stereotypes people +have about strikes and disorders. The unseen struggle has none of its +own flavor. It is noted abstractly, and that abstraction is then +animated by the immediate experience of the reader and reporter. +Obviously this is a very different experience from that which the +strikers have. They feel, let us say, the temper of the foreman, the +nerve-racking monotony of the machine, the depressingly bad air, the +drudgery of their wives, the stunting of their children, the dinginess +of their tenements. The slogans of the strike are invested with these +feelings. But the reporter and reader see at first only a strike and +some catchwords. They invest these with their feelings. Their feelings +may be that their jobs are insecure because the strikers are stopping +goods they need in their work, that there will be shortage and higher +prices, that it is all devilishly inconvenient. These, too, are +realities. And when they give color to the abstract news that a strike +has been called, it is in the nature of things that the workers are at +a disadvantage. It is in the nature, that is to say, of the existing +system of industrial relations that news arising from grievances or +hopes by workers should almost invariably be uncovered by an overt +attack on production. + +You have, therefore, the circumstances in all their sprawling +complexity, the overt act which signalizes them, the stereotyped +bulletin which publishes the signal, and the meaning that the reader +himself injects, after he has derived that meaning from the experience +which directly affects him. Now the reader's experience of a strike +may be very important indeed, but from the point of view of the +central trouble which caused the strike, it is eccentric. Yet this +eccentric meaning is automatically the most interesting. [Footnote: +_Cf_. Ch. XI, "The Enlisting of Interest."] To enter imaginatively +into the central issues is for the reader to step out of himself, and into +very different lives. + +It follows that in the reporting of strikes, the easiest way is to let +the news be uncovered by the overt act, and to describe the event as +the story of interference with the reader's life. That is where his +attention is first aroused, and his interest most easily enlisted. A +great deal, I think myself the crucial part, of what looks to the +worker and the reformer as deliberate misrepresentation on the part of +newspapers, is the direct outcome of a practical difficulty in +uncovering the news, and the emotional difficulty of making distant +facts interesting unless, as Emerson says, we can "perceive (them) to +be only a new version of our familiar experience" and can "set about +translating (them) at once into our parallel facts." [Footnote: From +his essay entitled _Art and Criticism_. The quotation occurs in a +passage cited on page 87 of Professor R. W. Brown's, _The Writer's +Art._] + +If you study the way many a strike is reported in the press, you will +find, very often, that the issues are rarely in the headlines, barely +in the leading paragraphs, and sometimes not even mentioned anywhere. +A labor dispute in another city has to be very important before the +news account contains any definite information as to what is in +dispute. The routine of the news works that way, with modifications it +works that way in regard to political issues and international news as +well. The news is an account of the overt phases that are interesting, +and the pressure on the newspaper to adhere to this routine comes from +many sides. It comes from the economy of noting only the stereotyped +phase of a situation. It comes from the difficulty of finding +journalists who can see what they have not learned to see. It comes +from the almost unavoidable difficulty of finding sufficient space in +which even the best journalist can make plausible an unconventional +view. It comes from the economic necessity of interesting the reader +quickly, and the economic risk involved in not interesting him at all, +or of offending him by unexpected news insufficiently or clumsily +described. All these difficulties combined make for uncertainty in the +editor when there are dangerous issues at stake, and cause him +naturally to prefer the indisputable fact and a treatment more readily +adapted to the reader's interest. The indisputable fact and the easy +interest, are the strike itself and the reader's inconvenience. + +All the subtler and deeper truths are in the present organization of +industry very unreliable truths. They involve judgments about +standards of living, productivity, human rights that are endlessly +debatable in the absence of exact record and quantitative analysis. +And as long as these do not exist in industry, the run of news about +it will tend, as Emerson said, quoting from Isocrates, "to make of +moles mountains, and of mountains moles." [Footnote: _Id., +supra_] Where there is no constitutional procedure in industry, and +no expert sifting of evidence and the claims, the fact that is +sensational to the reader is the fact that almost every journalist +will seek. Given the industrial relations that so largely prevail, +even where there is conference or arbitration, but no independent +filtering of the facts for decision, the issue for the newspaper +public will tend not to be the issue for the industry. And so to try +disputes by an appeal through the newspapers puts a burden upon +newspapers and readers which they cannot and ought not to carry. As +long as real law and order do not exist, the bulk of the news will, +unless consciously and courageously corrected, work against those who +have no lawful and orderly method of asserting themselves. The +bulletins from the scene of action will note the trouble that arose +from the assertion, rather than the reasons which led to it. The +reasons are intangible. + +4 + +The editor deals with these bulletins. He sits in his office, reads +them, rarely does he see any large portion of the events themselves. +He must, as we have seen, woo at least a section of his readers every +day, because they will leave him without mercy if a rival paper +happens to hit their fancy. He works under enormous pressure, for the +competition of newspapers is often a matter of minutes. Every bulletin +requires a swift but complicated judgment. It must be understood, put +in relation to other bulletins also understood, and played up or +played down according to its probable interest for the public, as the +editor conceives it. Without standardization, without stereotypes, +without routine judgments, without a fairly ruthless disregard of +subtlety, the editor would soon die of excitement. The final page is +of a definite size, must be ready at a precise moment; there can be +only a certain number of captions on the items, and in each caption +there must be a definite number of letters. Always there is the +precarious urgency of the buying public, the law of libel, and the +possibility of endless trouble. The thing could not be managed at all +without systematization, for in a standardized product there is +economy of time and effort, as well as a partial guarantee against +failure. + +It is here that newspapers influence each other most deeply. Thus when +the war broke out, the American newspapers were confronted with a +subject about which they had no previous experience. Certain dailies, +rich enough to pay cable tolls, took the lead in securing news, and +the way that news was presented became a model for the whole press. +But where did that model come from? It came from the English press, +not because Northcliffe owned American newspapers, but because at +first it was easier to buy English correspondence, and because, later, +it was easier for American journalists to read English newspapers than +it was for them to read any others. London was the cable and news +center, and it was there that a certain technic for reporting the war +was evolved. Something similar occurred in the reporting of the +Russian Revolution. In that instance, access to Russia was closed by +military censorship, both Russian and Allied, and closed still more +effectively by the difficulties of the Russian language. But above all +it was closed to effective news reporting by the fact that the hardest +thing to report is chaos, even though it is an evolving chaos. This +put the formulating of Russian news at its source in Helsingfors, +Stockholm, Geneva, Paris and London, into the hands of censors and +propagandists. They were for a long time subject to no check of any +kind. Until they had made themselves ridiculous they created, let us +admit, out of some genuine aspects of the huge Russian maelstrom, a +set of stereotypes so evocative of hate and fear, that the very best +instinct of journalism, its desire to go and see and tell, was for a +long time crushed. [Footnote: _Cf. A Test of the News,_ by Walter +Lippmann and Charles Merz, assisted by Faye Lippmann, _New +Republic,_ August 4, 1920.] + +5 + +Every newspaper when it reaches the reader is the result of a whole +series of selections as to what items shall be printed, in what +position they shall be printed, how much space each shall occupy, what +emphasis each shall have. There are no objective standards here. There +are conventions. Take two newspapers published in the same city on the +same morning. The headline of one reads: "Britain pledges aid to +Berlin against French aggression; France openly backs Poles." The +headline of the second is "Mrs. Stillman's Other Love." Which you +prefer is a matter of taste, but not entirely a matter of the editor's +taste. It is a matter of his judgment as to what will absorb the half +hour's attention a certain set of readers will give to his newspaper. +Now the problem of securing attention is by no means equivalent to +displaying the news in the perspective laid down by religious teaching +or by some form of ethical culture. It is a problem of provoking +feeling in the reader, of inducing him to feel a sense of personal +identification with the stories he is reading. News which does not +offer this opportunity to introduce oneself into the struggle which it +depicts cannot appeal to a wide audience. The audience must +participate in the news, much as it participates in the drama, by +personal identification. Just as everyone holds his breath when the +heroine is in danger, as he helps Babe Ruth swing his bat, so in +subtler form the reader enters into the news. In order that he shall +enter he must find a familiar foothold in the story, and this is +supplied to him by the use of stereotypes. They tell him that if an +association of plumbers is called a "combine" it is appropriate to +develop his hostility; if it is called a "group of leading business +men" the cue is for a favorable reaction. + +It is in a combination of these elements that the power to create +opinion resides. Editorials reinforce. Sometimes in a situation that +on the news pages is too confusing to permit of identification, they +give the reader a clue by means of which he engages himself. A clue he +must have if, as most of us must, he is to seize the news in a hurry. +A suggestion of some sort he demands, which tells him, so to speak, +where he, a man conceiving himself to be such and such a person, shall +integrate his feelings with the news he reads. + +"It has been said" writes Walter Bagehot, [Footnote: On the Emotion of +Conviction, _Literary Studies_, Vol. Ill, p. 172.] "that if you +can only get a middleclass Englishman to think whether there are +'snails in Sirius,' he will soon have an opinion on it. It will be +difficult to make him think, but if he does think, he cannot rest in a +negative, he will come to some decision. And on any ordinary topic, of +course, it is so. A grocer has a full creed as to foreign policy, a +young lady a complete theory of the sacraments, as to which neither +has any doubt whatever." + +Yet that same grocer will have many doubts about his groceries, and +that young lady, marvelously certain about the sacraments, may have +all kinds of doubts as to whether to marry the grocer, and if not +whether it is proper to accept his attentions. The ability to rest in +the negative implies either a lack of interest in the result, or a +vivid sense of competing alternatives. In the case of foreign policy +or the sacraments, the interest in the results is intense, while means +for checking the opinion are poor. This is the plight of the reader of +the general news. If he is to read it at all he must be interested, +that is to say, he must enter into the situation and care about the +outcome. But if he does that he cannot rest in a negative, and unless +independent means of checking the lead given him by his newspaper +exists, the very fact that he is interested may make it difficult to +arrive at that balance of opinions which may most nearly approximate +the truth. The more passionately involved he becomes, the more he will +tend to resent not only a different view, but a disturbing bit of +news. That is why many a newspaper finds that, having honestly evoked +the partisanship of its readers, it can not easily, supposing the +editor believes the facts warrant it, change position. If a change is +necessary, the transition has to be managed with the utmost skill and +delicacy. Usually a newspaper will not attempt so hazardous a +performance. It is easier and safer to have the news of that subject +taper off and disappear, thus putting out the fire by starving it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +NEWS, TRUTH, AND A CONCLUSION + +As we begin to make more and more exact studies of the press, much +will depend upon the hypothesis we hold. If we assume with Mr. +Sinclair, and most of his opponents, that news and truth are two words +for the same thing, we shall, I believe, arrive nowhere. We shall +prove that on this point the newspaper lied. We shall prove that on +that point Mr. Sinclair's account lied. We shall demonstrate that Mr. +Sinclair lied when he said that somebody lied, and that somebody lied +when he said Mr. Sinclair lied. We shall vent our feelings, but we +shall vent them into air. + +The hypothesis, which seems to me the most fertile, is that news and +truth are not the same thing, and must be clearly distinguished. +[Footnote: When I wrote _Liberty and the News,_ I did not +understand this distinction clearly enough to state it, but _cf._ +p. 89 ff.] The function of news is to signalize an event, the function +of truth is to bring to light the hidden facts, to set them into +relation with each other, and make a picture of reality on which men +can act. Only at those points, where social conditions take +recognizable and measurable shape, do the body of truth and the body +of news coincide. That is a comparatively small part of the whole +field of human interest. In this sector, and only in this sector, the +tests of the news are sufficiently exact to make the charges of +perversion or suppression more than a partisan judgment. There is no +defense, no extenuation, no excuse whatever, for stating six times +that Lenin is dead, when the only information the paper possesses is a +report that he is dead from a source repeatedly shown to be +unreliable. The news, in that instance, is not "Lenin Dead" but +"Helsingfors Says Lenin is Dead." And a newspaper can be asked to take +the responsibility of not making Lenin more dead than the source of +the news is reliable; if there is one subject on which editors are +most responsible it is in their judgment of the reliability of the +source. But when it comes to dealing, for example, with stories of +what the Russian people want, no such test exists. + +The absence of these exact tests accounts, I think, for the character +of the profession, as no other explanation does. There is a very small +body of exact knowledge, which it requires no outstanding ability or +training to deal with. The rest is in the journalist's own discretion. +Once he departs from the region where it is definitely recorded at the +County Clerk's office that John Smith has gone into bankruptcy, all +fixed standards disappear. The story of why John Smith failed, his +human frailties, the analysis of the economic conditions on which he +was shipwrecked, all of this can be told in a hundred different ways. +There is no discipline in applied psychology, as there is a discipline +in medicine, engineering, or even law, which has authority to direct +the journalist's mind when he passes from the news to the vague realm +of truth. There are no canons to direct his own mind, and no canons +that coerce the reader's judgment or the publisher's. His version of +the truth is only his version. How can he demonstrate the truth as he +sees it? He cannot demonstrate it, any more than Mr. Sinclair Lewis +can demonstrate that he has told the whole truth about Main Street. +And the more he understands his own weaknesses, the more ready he is +to admit that where there is no objective test, his own opinion is in +some vital measure constructed out of his own stereotypes, according +to his own code, and by the urgency of his own interest. He knows that +he is seeing the world through subjective lenses. He cannot deny that +he too is, as Shelley remarked, a dome of many-colored glass which +stains the white radiance of eternity. + +And by this knowledge his assurance is tempered. He may have all kinds +of moral courage, and sometimes has, but he lacks that sustaining +conviction of a certain technic which finally freed the physical +sciences from theological control. It was the gradual development of +an irrefragable method that gave the physicist his intellectual +freedom as against all the powers of the world. His proofs were so +clear, his evidence so sharply superior to tradition, that he broke +away finally from all control. But the journalist has no such support +in his own conscience or in fact. The control exercised over him by +the opinions of his employers and his readers, is not the control of +truth by prejudice, but of one opinion by another opinion that it is +not demonstrably less true. Between Judge Gary's assertion that the +unions will destroy American institutions, and Mr. Gomper's assertion +that they are agencies of the rights of man, the choice has, in large +measure, to be governed by the will to believe. + +The task of deflating these controversies, and reducing them to a +point where they can be reported as news, is not a task which the +reporter can perform. It is possible and necessary for journalists to +bring home to people the uncertain character of the truth on which +their opinions are founded, and by criticism and agitation to prod +social science into making more usable formulations of social facts, +and to prod statesmen into establishing more visible institutions. The +press, in other words, can fight for the extension of reportable +truth. But as social truth is organized to-day, the press is not +constituted to furnish from one edition to the next the amount of +knowledge which the democratic theory of public opinion demands. This +is not due to the Brass Check, as the quality of news in radical +papers shows, but to the fact that the press deals with a society in +which the governing forces are so imperfectly recorded. The theory +that the press can itself record those forces is false. It can +normally record only what has been recorded for it by the working of +institutions. Everything else is argument and opinion, and fluctuates +with the vicissitudes, the self-consciousness, and the courage of the +human mind. + +If the press is not so universally wicked, nor so deeply conspiring, +as Mr. Sinclair would have us believe, it is very much more frail than +the democratic theory has as yet admitted. It is too frail to carry +the whole burden of popular sovereignty, to supply spontaneously the +truth which democrats hoped was inborn. And when we expect it to +supply such a body of truth we employ a misleading standard of +judgment. We misunderstand the limited nature of news, the illimitable +complexity of society; we overestimate our own endurance, public +spirit, and all-round competence. We suppose an appetite for +uninteresting truths which is not discovered by any honest analysis of +our own tastes. + +If the newspapers, then, are to be charged with the duty of +translating the whole public life of mankind, so that every adult can +arrive at an opinion on every moot topic, they fail, they are bound to +fail, in any future one can conceive they will continue to fail. It is +not possible to assume that a world, carried on by division of labor +and distribution of authority, can be governed by universal opinions +in the whole population. Unconsciously the theory sets up the single +reader as theoretically omnicompetent, and puts upon the press the +burden of accomplishing whatever representative government, industrial +organization, and diplomacy have failed to accomplish. Acting upon +everybody for thirty minutes in twenty-four hours, the press is asked +to create a mystical force called Public Opinion that will take up the +slack in public institutions. The press has often mistakenly pretended +that it could do just that. It has at great moral cost to itself, +encouraged a democracy, still bound to its original premises, to +expect newspapers to supply spontaneously for every organ of +government, for every social problem, the machinery of information +which these do not normally supply themselves. Institutions, having +failed to furnish themselves with instruments of knowledge, have +become a bundle of "problems," which the population as a whole, +reading the press as a whole, is supposed to solve. + +The press, in other words, has come to be regarded as an organ of +direct democracy, charged on a much wider scale, and from day to day, +with the function often attributed to the initiative, referendum, and +recall. The Court of Public Opinion, open day and night, is to lay +down the law for everything all the time. It is not workable. And when +you consider the nature of news, it is not even thinkable. For the +news, as we have seen, is precise in proportion to the precision with +which the event is recorded. Unless the event is capable of being +named, measured, given shape, made specific, it either fails to take +on the character of news, or it is subject to the accidents and +prejudices of observation. + +Therefore, on the whole, the quality of the news about modern society +is an index of its social organization. The better the institutions, +the more all interests concerned are formally represented, the more +issues are disentangled, the more objective criteria are introduced, +the more perfectly an affair can be presented as news. At its best the +press is a servant and guardian of institutions; at its worst it is a +means by which a few exploit social disorganization to their own ends. +In the degree to which institutions fail to function, the unscrupulous +journalist can fish in troubled waters, and the conscientious one must +gamble with uncertainties. + +The press is no substitute for institutions. It is like the beam of a +searchlight that moves restlessly about, bringing one episode and then +another out of darkness into vision. Men cannot do the work of the +world by this light alone. They cannot govern society by episodes, +incidents, and eruptions. It is only when they work by a steady light +of their own, that the press, when it is turned upon them, reveals a +situation intelligible enough for a popular decision. The trouble lies +deeper than the press, and so does the remedy. It lies in social +organization based on a system of analysis and record, and in all the +corollaries of that principle; in the abandonment of the theory of the +omnicompetent citizen, in the decentralization of decision, in the +coordination of decision by comparable record and analysis. If at the +centers of management there is a running audit, which makes work +intelligible to those who do it, and those who superintend it, issues +when they arise are not the mere collisions of the blind. Then, too, +the news is uncovered for the press by a system of intelligence that +is also a check upon the press. + +That is the radical way. For the troubles of the press, like the +troubles of representative government, be it territorial or +functional, like the troubles of industry, be it capitalist, +cooperative, or communist, go back to a common source: to the failure +of self-governing people to transcend their casual experience and +their prejudice, by inventing, creating, and organizing a machinery of +knowledge. It is because they are compelled to act without a reliable +picture of the world, that governments, schools, newspapers and +churches make such small headway against the more obvious failings of +democracy, against violent prejudice, apathy, preference for the +curious trivial as against the dull important, and the hunger for +sideshows and three legged calves. This is the primary defect of +popular government, a defect inherent in its traditions, and all its +other defects can, I believe, be traced to this one. + + + + +PART VIII + +ORGANIZED INTELLIGENCE + +CHAPTER XXV. THE ENTERING WEDGE + " XXVI. INTELLIGENCE WORK + " XXVII. THE APPEAL TO THE PUBLIC + " XXVIII. THE APPEAL TO REASON + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE ENTERING WEDGE + +1 + +If the remedy were interesting, American pioneers like Charles +McCarthy, Robert Valentine, and Frederick W. Taylor would not have had +to fight so hard for a hearing. But it is clear why they had to fight, +and why bureaus of governmental research, industrial audits, budgeting +and the like are the ugly ducklings of reform. They reverse the +process by which interesting public opinions are built up. Instead of +presenting a casual fact, a large screen of stereotypes, and a +dramatic identification, they break down the drama, break through the +stereotypes, and offer men a picture of facts, which is unfamiliar and +to them impersonal. When this is not painful, it is dull, and those to +whom it is painful, the trading politician and the partisan who has +much to conceal, often exploit the dullness that the public feels, in +order to remove the pain that they feel. + +2 + +Yet every complicated community has sought the assistance of special +men, of augurs, priests, elders. Our own democracy, based though it +was on a theory of universal competence, sought lawyers to manage its +government, and to help manage its industry. It was recognized that +the specially trained man was in some dim way oriented to a wider +system of truth than that which arises spontaneously in the amateur's +mind. But experience has shown that the traditional lawyer's equipment +was not enough assistance. The Great Society had grown furiously and +to colossal dimensions by the application of technical knowledge. It +was made by engineers who had learned to use exact measurements and +quantitative analysis. It could not be governed, men began to +discover, by men who thought deductively about rights and wrongs. It +could be brought under human control only by the technic which had +created it. Gradually, then, the more enlightened directing minds have +called in experts who were trained, or had trained themselves, to make +parts of this Great Society intelligible to those who manage it. These +men are known by all kinds of names, as statisticians, accountants, +auditors, industrial counsellors, engineers of many species, +scientific managers, personnel administrators, research men, +"scientists," and sometimes just as plain private secretaries. They +have brought with them each a jargon of his own, as well as filing +cabinets, card catalogues, graphs, loose-leaf contraptions, and above +all the perfectly sound ideal of an executive who sits before a +flat-top desk, one sheet of typewritten paper before him, and decides +on matters of policy presented in a form ready for his rejection or +approval. + +This whole development has been the work, not so much of a spontaneous +creative evolution, as of blind natural selection. The statesman, the +executive, the party leader, the head of a voluntary association, +found that if he had to discuss two dozen different subjects in the +course of the day, somebody would have to coach him. He began to +clamor for memoranda. He found he could not read his mail. He demanded +somebody who would blue-pencil the interesting sentences in the +important letters. He found he could not digest the great stacks of +type-written reports that grew mellow on his desk. He demanded +summaries. He found he could not read an unending series of figures. +He embraced the man who made colored pictures of them. He found that +he really did not know one machine from another. He hired engineers to +pick them, and tell him how much they cost and what they could do. He +peeled off one burden after another, as a man will take off first his +hat, then his coat, then his collar, when he is struggling to move an +unwieldy load. + +3 + +Yet curiously enough, though he knew that he needed help, he was slow +to call in the social scientist. The chemist, the physicist, the +geologist, had a much earlier and more friendly reception. +Laboratories were set up for them, inducements offered, for there was +quick appreciation of the victories over nature. But the scientist who +has human nature as his problem is in a different case. There are many +reasons for this: the chief one, that he has so few victories to +exhibit. He has so few, because unless he deals with the historic +past, he cannot prove his theories before offering them to the public. +The physical scientist can make an hypothesis, test it, revise the +hypothesis hundreds of times, and, if after all that, he is wrong, no +one else has to pay the price. But the social scientist cannot begin +to offer the assurance of a laboratory test, and if his advice is +followed, and he is wrong, the consequences may be incalculable. He is +in the nature of things far more responsible, and far less certain. + +But more than that. In the laboratory sciences the student has +conquered the dilemma of thought and action. He brings a sample of the +action to a quiet place, where it can be repeated at will, and +examined at leisure. But the social scientist is constantly being +impaled on a dilemma. If he stays in his library, where he has the +leisure to think, he has to rely upon the exceedingly casual and +meager printed record that comes to him through official reports, +newspapers, and interviews. If he goes out into "the world" where +things are happening, he has to serve a long, often wasteful, +apprenticeship, before he is admitted to the sanctum where they are +being decided. What he cannot do is to dip into action and out again +whenever it suits him. There are no privileged listeners. The man of +affairs, observing that the social scientist knows only from the +outside what he knows, in part at least, from the inside, recognizing +that the social scientist's hypothesis is not in the nature of things +susceptible of laboratory proof, and that verification is possible +only in the "real" world, has developed a rather low opinion of social +scientists who do not share his views of public policy. + +In his heart of hearts the social scientist shares this estimate of +himself. He has little inner certainty about his own work. He only +half believes in it, and being sure of nothing, he can find no +compelling reason for insisting on his own freedom of thought. What +can he actually claim for it, in the light of his own conscience? +[Footnote: Cf. Charles E. Merriam, _The Present State of the Study +of Politics_, _American Political Science Review_, Vol. XV. +No. 2, May, 1921.] His data are uncertain, his means of verification +lacking. The very best qualities in him are a source of frustration. +For if he is really critical and saturated in the scientific spirit, +he cannot be doctrinaire, and go to Armageddon against the trustees +and the students and the Civic Federation and the conservative press +for a theory of which he is not sure. If you are going to Armageddon, +you have to battle for the Lord, but the political scientist is always +a little doubtful whether the Lord called him. + +Consequently if so much of social science is apologetic rather than +constructive, the explanation lies in the opportunities of social +science, not in "capitalism." The physical scientists achieved their +freedom from clericalism by working out a method that produced +conclusions of a sort that could not be suppressed or ignored. They +convinced themselves and acquired dignity, and knew what they were +fighting for. The social scientist will acquire his dignity and his +strength when he has worked out his method. He will do that by turning +into opportunity the need among directing men of the Great Society for +instruments of analysis by which an invisible and made intelligible. + +But as things go now, the social scientist assembles his data out of a +mass of unrelated material. Social processes are recorded +spasmodically, quite often as accidents of administration. A report to +Congress, a debate, an investigation, legal briefs, a census, a +tariff, a tax schedule; the material, like the skull of the Piltdown +man, has to be put together by ingenious inference before the student +obtains any sort of picture of the event he is studying. Though it +deals with the conscious life of his fellow citizens, it is all too +often distressingly opaque, because the man who is trying to +generalize has practically no supervision of the way his data are +collected. Imagine medical research conducted by students who could +rarely go into a hospital, were deprived of animal experiment, and +compelled to draw conclusions from the stories of people who had been +ill, the reports of nurses, each of whom had her own system of +diagnosis, and the statistics compiled by the Bureau of Internal +Revenue on the excess profits of druggists. The social scientist has +usually to make what he can out of categories that were uncritically +in the mind of an official who administered some part of a law, or who +was out to justify, to persuade, to claim, or to prove. The student +knows this, and, as a protection against it, has developed that branch +of scholarship which is an elaborated suspicion about where to +discount his information. + +That is a virtue, but it becomes a very thin virtue when it is merely +a corrective for the unwholesome position of social science. For the +scholar is condemned to guess as shrewdly as he can why in a situation +not clearly understood something or other may have happened. But the +expert who is employed as the mediator among representatives, and as +the mirror and measure of administration, has a very different control +of the facts. Instead of being the man who generalizes from the facts +dropped to him by the men of action, he becomes the man who prepares +the facts for the men of action. This is a profound change in his +strategic position. He no longer stands outside, chewing the cud +provided by busy men of affairs, but he takes his place in front of +decision instead of behind it. To-day the sequence is that the man of +affairs finds his facts, and decides on the basis of them; then, some +time later, the social scientist deduces excellent reasons why he did +or did not decide wisely. This ex post facto relationship is academic +in the bad sense of that fine word. The real sequence should be one +where the disinterested expert first finds and formulates the facts +for the man of action, and later makes what wisdom he can out of +comparison between the decision, which he understands, and the facts, +which he organized. + +4 + +For the physical sciences this change in strategic position began +slowly, and then accelerated rapidly. There was a time when the +inventor and the engineer were romantic half-starved outsiders, +treated as cranks. The business man and the artisan knew all the +mysteries of their craft. Then the mysteries grew more mysterious, and +at last industry began to depend upon physical laws and chemical +combinations that no eye could see, and only a trained mind could +conceive. The scientist moved from his noble garret in the Latin +Quarter into office buildings and laboratories. For he alone could +construct a working image of the reality on which industry rested. +From the new relationship he took as much as he gave, perhaps more: +pure science developed faster than applied, though it drew its +economic support, a great deal of its inspiration, and even more of +its relevancy, from constant contact with practical decision. But +physical science still labored under the enormous limitation that the +men who made decisions had only their commonsense to guide them. They +administered without scientific aid a world complicated by scientists. +Again they had to deal with facts they could not apprehend, and as +once they had to call in engineers, they now have to call in +statisticians, accountants, experts of all sorts. + +These practical students are the true pioneers of a new social +science. They are "in mesh with the driving wheels" [Footnote: Cf. The +Address of the President of the American Philosophical Association, +Mr. Ralph Barton Perry, Dec. 28, 1920. Published in the Proceedings of +the Twentieth Annual Meeting.] and from this practical engagement of +science and action, both will benefit radically: action by the +clarification of its beliefs; beliefs by a continuing test in action. +We are in the earliest beginnings. But if it is conceded that all +large forms of human association must, because of sheer practical +difficulty, contain men who will come to see the need for an expert +reporting of their particular environment, then the imagination has a +premise on which to work. In the exchange of technic and result among +expert staffs, one can see, I think, the beginning of experimental +method in social science. When each school district and budget, and +health department, and factory, and tariff schedule, is the material +of knowledge for every other, the number of comparable experiences +begins to approach the dimensions of genuine experiment. In +forty-eight states, and 2400 cities, and 277,000 school houses, +270,000 manufacturing establishments, 27,000 mines and quarries, there +is a wealth of experience, if only it were recorded and available. And +there is, too, opportunity for trial and error at such slight risk +that any reasonable hypothesis might be given a fair test without +shaking the foundations of society. + +The wedge has been driven, not only by some directors of industry and +some statesmen who had to have help, but by the bureaus of municipal +research, [Footnote: The number of these organizations in the United +States is very great. Some are alive, some half dead. They are in +rapid flux. Lists of them supplied to me by Dr. L. D. Upson of the +Detroit Bureau of Governmental Research, Miss Rebecca B. Rankin of the +Municipal Reference Library of New York City, Mr. Edward A. +Fitzpatrick, Secretary of the State Board of Education (Wisconsin), +Mr. Savel Zimand of the Bureau of Industrial Research (New York City), +run into the hundreds.] the legislative reference libraries, the +specialized lobbies of corporations and trade unions and public +causes, and by voluntary organizations like the League of Women +Voters, the Consumers' League, the Manufacturers' Associations: by +hundreds of trade associations, and citizens' unions; by publications +like the _Searchlight on Congress_ and the _Survey_; and by +foundations like the General Education Board. Not all by any means are +disinterested. That is not the point. All of them do begin to +demonstrate the need for interposing some form of expertness between +the private citizen and the vast environment in which he is entangled. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +INTELLIGENCE WORK + +1 + +THE practice of democracy has been ahead of its theory. For the theory +holds that the adult electors taken together make decisions out of a +will that is in them. But just as there grew up governing hierarchies +which were invisible in theory, so there has been a large amount of +constructive adaptation, also unaccounted for in the image of +democracy. Ways have been found to represent many interests and +functions that are normally out of sight. + +We are most conscious of this in our theory of the courts, when we +explain their legislative powers and their vetoes on the theory that +there are interests to be guarded which might be forgotten by the +elected officials. But the Census Bureau, when it counts, classifies, +and correlates people, things, and changes, is also speaking for +unseen factors in the environment. The Geological Survey makes mineral +resources evident, the Department of Agriculture represents in the +councils of the nation factors of which each farmer sees only an +infinitesimal part. School authorities, the Tariff Commission, the +consular service, the Bureau of Internal Revenue give representation +to persons, ideas, and objects which would never automatically find +themselves represented in this perspective by an election. The +Children's Bureau is the spokesman of a whole complex of interests and +functions not ordinarily visible to the voter, and, therefore, +incapable of becoming spontaneously a part of his public opinions. +Thus the printing of comparative statistics of infant mortality is +often followed by a reduction of the death rate of babies. Municipal +officials and voters did not have, before publication, a place in +their picture of the environment for those babies. The statistics made +them visible, as visible as if the babies had elected an alderman to +air their grievances. + +In the State Department the government maintains a Division of Far +Eastern Affairs. What is it for? The Japanese and the Chinese +Governments both maintain ambassadors in Washington. Are they not +qualified to speak for the Far East? They are its representatives. Yet +nobody would argue that the American Government could learn all that +it needed to know about the Far East by consulting these ambassadors. +Supposing them to be as candid as they know how to be, they are still +limited channels of information. Therefore, to supplement them we +maintain embassies in Tokio and Peking, and consular agents at many +points. Also, I assume, some secret agents. These people are supposed +to send reports which pass through the Division of Far Eastern Affairs +to the Secretary of State. Now what does the Secretary expect of the +Division? I know one who expected it to spend its appropriation. But +there are Secretaries to whom special revelation is denied, and they +turn to their divisions for help. The last thing they expect to find +is a neat argument justifying the American position. + +What they demand is that the experts shall bring the Far East to the +Secretary's desk, with all the elements in such relation that it is as +if he were in contact with the Far East itself. The expert must +translate, simplify, generalize, but the inference from the result +must apply in the East, not merely on the premises of the report. If +the Secretary is worth his salt, the very last thing he will tolerate +in his experts is the suspicion that they have a "policy." He does not +want to know from them whether they like Japanese policy in China. He +wants to know what different classes of Chinese and Japanese, English, +Frenchmen, Germans, and Russians, think about it, and what they are +likely to do because of what they think. He wants all that represented +to him as the basis of his decision. The more faithfully the Division +represents what is not otherwise represented, either by the Japanese +or American ambassadors, or the Senators and Congressmen from the +Pacific coast, the better Secretary of State he will be. He may decide +to take his policy from the Pacific Coast, but he will take his view +of Japan from Japan. + +2 + +It is no accident that the best diplomatic service in the world is the +one in which the divorce between the assembling of knowledge and the +control of policy is most perfect. During the war in many British +Embassies and in the British Foreign Office there were nearly always +men, permanent officials or else special appointees, who quite +successfully discounted the prevailing war mind. They discarded the +rigmarole of being pro and con, of having favorite nationalities, and +pet aversions, and undelivered perorations in their bosoms. They left +that to the political chiefs. But in an American Embassy I once heard +an ambassador say that he never reported anything to Washington which +would not cheer up the folks at home. He charmed all those who met +him, helped many a stranded war worker, and was superb when he +unveiled a monument. + +He did not understand that the power of the expert depends upon +separating himself from those who make the decisions, upon not caring, +in his expert self, what decision is made. The man who, like the +ambassador, takes a line, and meddles with the decision, is soon +discounted. There he is, just one more on that side of the question. +For when he begins to care too much, he begins to see what he wishes +to see, and by that fact ceases to see what he is there to see. He is +there to represent the unseen. He represents people who are not +voters, functions of voters that are not evident, events that are out +of sight, mute people, unborn people, relations between things and +people. He has a constituency of intangibles. And intangibles cannot +be used to form a political majority, because voting is in the last +analysis a test of strength, a sublimated battle, and the expert +represents no strength available in the immediate. But he can exercise +force by disturbing the line up of the forces. By making the invisible +visible, he confronts the people who exercise material force with a +new environment, sets ideas and feelings at work in them, throws them +out of position, and so, in the profoundest way, affects the decision. + +Men cannot long act in a way that they know is a contradiction of the +environment as they conceive it. If they are bent on acting in a +certain way they have to reconceive the environment, they have to +censor out, to rationalize. But if in their presence, there is an +insistent fact which is so obtrusive that they cannot explain it away, +one of three courses is open. They can perversely ignore it, though +they will cripple themselves in the process, will overact their part +and come to grief. They can take it into account but refuse to act. +They pay in internal discomfort and frustration. Or, and I believe +this to be the most frequent case, they adjust their whole behavior to +the enlarged environment. + +The idea that the expert is an ineffectual person because he lets +others make the decisions is quite contrary to experience. The more +subtle the elements that enter into the decision, the more +irresponsible power the expert wields. He is certain, moreover, to +exercise more power in the future than ever he did before, because +increasingly the relevant facts will elude the voter and the +administrator. All governing agencies will tend to organize bodies of +research and information, which will throw out tentacles and expand, +as have the intelligence departments of all the armies in the world. +But the experts will remain human beings. They will enjoy power, and +their temptation will be to appoint themselves censors, and so absorb +the real function of decision. Unless their function is correctly +defined they will tend to pass on the facts they think appropriate, +and to pass down the decisions they approve. They will tend, in short, +to become a bureaucracy. + +The only institutional safeguard is to separate as absolutely as it is +possible to do so the staff which executes from the staff which +investigates. The two should be parallel but quite distinct bodies of +men, recruited differently, paid if possible from separate funds, +responsible to different heads, intrinsically uninterested in each +other's personal success. In industry, the auditors, accountants, and +inspectors should be independent of the manager, the superintendents, +foremen, and in time, I believe, we shall come to see that in order to +bring industry under social control the machinery of record will have +to be independent of the boards of directors and the shareholders. + +3 + +But in building the intelligence sections of industry and politics, we +do not start on cleared ground. And, apart from insisting on this +basic separation of function, it would be cumbersome to insist too +precisely on the form which in any particular instance the principle +shall take. There are men who believe in intelligence work, and will +adopt it; there are men who do not understand it, but cannot do their +work without it; there are men who will resist. But provided the +principle has a foothold somewhere in every social agency it will make +progress, and the way to begin is to begin. In the federal government, +for example, it is not necessary to straighten out the administrative +tangle and the illogical duplications of a century's growth in order +to find a neat place for the intelligence bureaus which Washington so +badly needs. Before election you can promise to rush bravely into the +breach. But when you arrive there all out of breath, you find that +each absurdity is invested with habits, strong interests, and chummy +Congressmen. Attack all along the line and you engage every force of +reaction. You go forth to battle, as the poet said, and you always +fall. You can lop off an antiquated bureau here, a covey of clerks +there, you can combine two bureaus. And by that time you are busy with +the tariff and the railroads, and the era of reform is over. Besides, +in order to effect a truly logical reorganization of the government, +such as all candidates always promise, you would have to disturb more +passions than you have time to quell. And any new scheme, supposing +you had one ready, would require officials to man it. Say what one +will about officeholders, even Soviet Russia was glad to get many of +the old ones back; and these old officials, if they are too ruthlessly +treated, will sabotage Utopia itself. + +No administrative scheme is workable without good will, and good will +about strange practices is impossible without education. The better +way is to introduce into the existing machinery, wherever you can find +an opening, agencies that will hold up a mirror week by week, month by +month. You can hope, then, to make the machine visible to those who +work it, as well as to the chiefs who are responsible, and to the +public outside. When the office-holders begin to see themselves,--or +rather when the outsiders, the chiefs, and the subordinates all begin +to see the same facts, the same damning facts if you like, the +obstruction will diminish. The reformer's opinion that a certain +bureau is inefficient is just his opinion, not so good an opinion in +the eyes of the bureau, as its own. But let the work of that bureau be +analysed and recorded, and then compared with other bureaus and with +private corporations, and the argument moves to another plane. + +There are ten departments at Washington represented in the Cabinet. +Suppose, then, there was a permanent intelligence section for each. +What would be some of the conditions of effectiveness? Beyond all +others that the intelligence officials should be independent both of +the Congressional Committees dealing with that department, and of the +Secretary at the head of it; that they should not be entangled either +in decision or in action. Independence, then, would turn mainly on +three points on funds, tenure, and access to the facts. For clearly if +a particular Congress or departmental official can deprive them of +money, dismiss them, or close the files, the staff becomes its +creature. + +4 + +The question of funds is both important and difficult. No agency of +research can be really free if it depends upon annual doles from what +may be a jealous or a parsimonious congress. Yet the ultimate control +of funds cannot be removed from the legislature. The financial +arrangement should insure the staff against left-handed, joker and +rider attack, against sly destruction, and should at the same time +provide for growth. The staff should be so well entrenched that an +attack on its existence would have to be made in the open. It might, +perhaps, work behind a federal charter creating a trust fund, and a +sliding scale over a period of years based on the appropriation for +the department to which the intelligence bureau belonged. No great +sums of money are involved anyway. The trust fund might cover the +overhead and capital charges for a certain minimum staff, the sliding +scale might cover the enlargements. At any rate the appropriation +should be put beyond accident, like the payment of any long term +obligation. This is a much less serious way of "tying the hands of +Congress" than is the passage of a Constitutional amendment or the +issuance of government bonds. Congress could repeal the charter. But +it would have to repeal it, not throw monkey wrenches into it. + +Tenure should be for life, with provision for retirement on a liberal +pension, with sabbatical years set aside for advanced study and +training, and with dismissal only after a trial by professional +colleagues. The conditions which apply to any non-profit-making +intellectual career should apply here. If the work is to be salient, +the men who do it must have dignity, security, and, in the upper ranks +at least, that freedom of mind which you find only where men are not +too immediately concerned in practical decision. + +Access to the materials should be established in the organic act. The +bureau should have the right to examine all papers, and to question +any official or any outsider. Continuous investigation of this sort +would not at all resemble the sensational legislative inquiry and the +spasmodic fishing expedition which are now a common feature of our +government. The bureau should have the right to propose accounting +methods to the department, and if the proposal is rejected, or +violated after it has been accepted, to appeal under its charter to +Congress. + +In the first instance each intelligence bureau would be the connecting +link between Congress and the Department, a better link, in my +judgment, than the appearance of cabinet officers on the floor of both +House and Senate, though the one proposal in no way excludes the +other. The bureau would be the Congressional eye on the execution of +its policy. It would be the departmental answer to Congressional +criticism. And then, since operation of the Department would be +permanently visible, perhaps Congress would cease to feel the need of +that minute legislation born of distrust and a false doctrine of the +separation of powers, which does so much to make efficient +administration difficult. + +5 + +But, of course, each of the ten bureaus could not work in a watertight +compartment. In their relation one to another lies the best chance for +that "coordination" of which so much is heard and so little seen. +Clearly the various staffs would need to adopt, wherever possible, +standards of measurement that were comparable. They would exchange +their records. Then if the War Department and the Post Office both buy +lumber, hire carpenters, or construct brick walls they need not +necessarily do them through the same agency, for that might mean +cumbersome over-centralization; but they would be able to use the same +measure for the same things, be conscious of the comparisons, and be +treated as competitors. And the more competition of this sort the +better. + +For the value of competition is determined by the value of the +standards used to measure it. Instead, then, of asking ourselves +whether we believe in competition, we should ask ourselves whether we +believe in that for which the competitors compete. No one in his +senses expects to "abolish competition," for when the last vestige of +emulation had disappeared, social effort would consist in mechanical +obedience to a routine, tempered in a minority by native inspiration. +Yet no one expects to work out competition to its logical conclusion +in a murderous struggle of each against all. The problem is to select +the goals of competition and the rules of the game. Almost always the +most visible and obvious standard of measurement will determine the +rules of the game: such as money, power, popularity, applause, or Mr. +Veblen's "conspicuous waste." What other standards of measurement does +our civilization normally provide? How does it measure efficiency, +productivity, service, for which we are always clamoring? + +By and large there are no measures, and there is, therefore, not so +much competition to achieve these ideals. For the difference between +the higher and the lower motives is not, as men often assert, a +difference between altruism and selfishness. [Footnote: _Cf._ +Ch. XII] It is a difference between acting for easily understood aims, +and for aims that are obscure and vague. Exhort a man to make more +profit than his neighbor, and he knows at what to aim. Exhort him to +render more social service, and how is he to be certain what service +is social? What is the test, what is the measure? A subjective +feeling, somebody's opinion. Tell a man in time of peace that he ought +to serve his country and you have uttered a pious platitude, Tell him +in time of war, and the word service has a meaning; it is a number of +concrete acts, enlistment, or buying bonds, or saving food, or working +for a dollar a year, and each one of these services he sees definitely +as part of a concrete purpose to put at the front an army larger and +better armed, than the enemy's. + +So the more you are able to analyze administration and work out +elements that can be compared, the more you invent quantitative +measures for the qualities you wish to promote, the more you can turn +competition to ideal ends. If you can contrive the right index numbers +[Footnote: I am not using the term index numbers in its purely +technical meaning, but to cover any device for the comparative +measurement of social phenomena.] you can set up a competition between +individual workers in a shop; between shops; between factories; +between schools; [Footnote: See, for example, _An Index Number for +State School Systems_ by Leonard P. Ayres, Russell Sage Foundation, +1920. The principle of the quota was very successfully applied in the +Liberty Loan Campaigns, and under very much more difficult +circumstances by the Allied Maritime Transport Council.] between +government departments; between regiments; between divisions; between +ships; between states; counties; cities; and the better your index +numbers the more useful the competition. + +6 + +The possibilities that lie in the exchange of material are evident. +Each department of government is all the time asking for information +that may already have been obtained by another department, though +perhaps in a somewhat different form. The State Department needs to +know, let us say, the extent of the Mexican oil reserves, their +relation to the rest of the world's supply, the present ownership of +Mexican oil lands, the importance of oil to warships now under +construction or planned, the comparative costs in different fields. +How does it secure such information to-day? The information is +probably scattered through the Departments of Interior, Justice, +Commerce, Labor and Navy. Either a clerk in the State Department looks +up Mexican oil in a book of reference, which may or may not be +accurate, or somebody's private secretary telephones somebody else's +private secretary, asks for a memorandum, and in the course of time a +darkey messenger arrives with an armful of unintelligible reports. The +Department should be able to call on its own intelligence bureau to +assemble the facts in a way suited to the diplomatic problem up for +decision. And these facts the diplomatic intelligence bureau would +obtain from the central clearing house. [Footnote: There has been a +vast development of such services among the trade associations. The +possibilities of a perverted use were revealed by the New York +Building Trades investigation of 1921.] + +This establishment would pretty soon become a focus of information of +the most extraordinary kind. And the men in it would be made aware of +what the problems of government really are. They would deal with +problems of definition, of terminology, of statistical technic, of +logic; they would traverse concretely the whole gamut of the social +sciences. It is difficult to see why all this material, except a few +diplomatic and military secrets, should not be open to the scholars of +the country. It is there that the political scientist would find the +real nuts to crack and the real researches for his students to make. +The work need not all be done in Washington, but it could be done in +reference to Washington. The central agency would, thus, have in it +the makings of a national university. The staff could be recruited +there for the bureaus from among college graduates. They would be +working on theses selected after consultation between the curators of +the national university and teachers scattered over the country. If +the association was as flexible as it ought to be, there would be, as +a supplement to the permanent staff, a steady turnover of temporary +and specialist appointments from the universities, and exchange +lecturers called out from Washington. Thus the training and the +recruiting of the staff would go together. A part of the research +itself would be done by students, and political science in the +universities would be associated with politics in America. + +7 + +In its main outlines the principle is equally applicable to state +governments, to cities, and to rural counties. The work of comparison +and interchange could take place by federations of state and city and +county bureaus. And within those federations any desirable regional +combination could be organized. So long as the accounting systems were +comparable, a great deal of duplication would be avoided. Regional +coordination is especially desirable. For legal frontiers often do not +coincide with the effective environments. Yet they have a certain +basis in custom that it would be costly to disturb. By coordinating +their information several administrative areas could reconcile +autonomy of decision with cooperation. New York City, for example, is +already an unwieldy unit for good government from the City Hall. Yet +for many purposes, such as health and transportation, the metropolitan +district is the true unit of administration. In that district, +however, there are large cities, like Yonkers, Jersey City, Paterson, +Elizabeth, Hoboken, Bayonne. They could not all be managed from one +center, and yet they should act together for many functions. +Ultimately perhaps some such flexible scheme of local government as +Sidney and Beatrice Webb have suggested may be the proper +solution. [Footnote: "The Reorganization of Local Government" (Ch. IV), +in _A Constitution for the Socialist Commonwealth of Great +Britain_.] But the first step would be a coordination, not of +decision and action, but of information and research. Let the +officials of the various municipalities see their common problems in +the light of the same facts. + +8 + +It would be idle to deny that such a net work of intelligence bureaus +in politics and industry might become a dead weight and a perpetual +irritation. One can easily imagine its attraction for men in search of +soft jobs, for pedants, for meddlers. One can see red tape, mountains +of papers, questionnaires ad nauseam, seven copies of every document, +endorsements, delays, lost papers, the use of form 136 instead of form +2gb, the return of the document because pencil was used instead of +ink, or black ink instead of red ink. The work could be done very +badly. There are no fool-proof institutions. + +But if one could assume that there was circulation through the whole +system between government departments, factories, offices, and the +universities; a circulation of men, a circulation of data and of +criticism, the risks of dry rot would not be so great. Nor would it be +true to say that these intelligence bureaus will complicate life. They +will tend, on the contrary, to simplify, by revealing a complexity now +so great as to be humanly unmanageable. The present fundamentally +invisible system of government is so intricate that most people have +given up trying to follow it, and because they do not try, they are +tempted to think it comparatively simple. It is, on the contrary, +elusive, concealed, opaque. The employment of an intelligence system +would mean a reduction of personnel per unit of result, because by +making available to all the experience of each, it would reduce the +amount of trial and error; and because by making the social process +visible, it would assist the personnel to self-criticism. It does not +involve a great additional band of officials, if you take into account +the time now spent vainly by special investigating committees, grand +juries, district attorneys, reform organizations, and bewildered +office holders, in trying to find their way through a dark muddle. + +If the analysis of public opinion and of the democratic theories in +relation to the modern environment is sound in principle, then I do +not see how one can escape the conclusion that such intelligence work +is the clue to betterment. I am not referring to the few suggestions +contained in this chapter. They are merely illustrations. The task of +working out the technic is in the hands of men trained to do it, and +not even they can to-day completely foresee the form, much less the +details. The number of social phenomena which are now recorded is +small, the instruments of analysis are very crude, the concepts often +vague and uncriticized. But enough has been done to demonstrate, I +think, that unseen environments can be reported effectively, that they +can be reported to divergent groups of people in a way which is +neutral to their prejudice, and capable of overcoming their +subjectivism. + +If that is true, then in working out the intelligence principle men +will find the way to overcome the central difficulty of +self-government, the difficulty of dealing with an unseen reality. +Because of that difficulty, it has been impossible for any +self-governing community to reconcile its need for isolation with the +necessity for wide contact, to reconcile the dignity and individuality +of local decision with security and wide coordination, to secure +effective leaders without sacrificing responsibility, to have useful +public opinions without attempting universal public opinions on all +subjects. As long as there was no way of establishing common versions +of unseen events, common measures for separate actions, the only image +of democracy that would work, even in theory, was one based on an +isolated community of people whose political faculties were limited, +according to Aristotle's famous maxim, by the range of their vision. + +But now there is a way out, a long one to be sure, but a way. It is +fundamentally the same way as that which has enabled a citizen of +Chicago, with no better eyes or ears than an Athenian, to see and hear +over great distances. It is possible to-day, it will become more +possible when more labor has gone into it, to reduce the discrepancies +between the conceived environment and the effective environment. As +that is done, federalism will work more and more by consent, less and +less by coercion. For while federalism is the only possible method of +union among self-governing groups, [Footnote: _Cf._ H. J. Laski, +_The Foundations of Sovereignty_, and other Essays, particularly +the Essay of this name, as well as the Problems of Administrative +Areas, The Theory of Popular Sovereignty, and The Pluralistic State.] +federalism swings either towards imperial centralization or towards +parochial anarchy wherever the union is not based on correct and +commonly accepted ideas of federal matters. These ideas do not arise +spontaneously. They have to be pieced together by generalization based +on analysis, and the instruments for that analysis have to be invented +and tested by research. + +No electoral device, no manipulation of areas, no change in the system +of property, goes to the root of the matter. You cannot take more +political wisdom out of human beings than there is in them. And no +reform, however sensational, is truly radical, which does not +consciously provide a way of overcoming the subjectivism of human +opinion based on the limitation of individual experience. There are +systems of government, of voting, and representation which extract +more than others. But in the end knowledge must come not from the +conscience but from the environment with which that conscience deals. +When men act on the principle of intelligence they go out to find the +facts and to make their wisdom. When they ignore it, they go inside +themselves and find only what is there. They elaborate their +prejudice, instead of increasing their knowledge. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE APPEAL TO THE PUBLIC + +1 + +IN real life no one acts on the theory that he can have a public +opinion on every public question, though this fact is often concealed +where a person thinks there is no public question because he has no +public opinion. But in the theory of our politics we continue to think +more literally than Lord Bryce intended, that "the action of Opinion +is continuous," [Footnote: _Modern Democracies_, Vol. I, p. 159.] +even though "its action... deals with broad principles only." +[Footnote: Id., footnote, p. 158.] And then because we try to think of +ourselves having continuous opinions, without being altogether certain +what a broad principle is, we quite naturally greet with an anguished +yawn an argument that seems to involve the reading of more government +reports, more statistics, more curves and more graphs. For all these +are in the first instance just as confusing as partisan rhetoric, and +much less entertaining. + +The amount of attention available is far too small for any scheme in +which it was assumed that all the citizens of the nation would, after +devoting themselves to the publications of all the intelligence +bureaus, become alert, informed, and eager on the multitude of real +questions that never do fit very well into any broad principle. I am +not making that assumption. Primarily, the intelligence bureau is an +instrument of the man of action, of the representative charged with +decision, of the worker at his work, and if it does not help them, it +will help nobody in the end. But in so far as it helps them to +understand the environment in which they are working, it makes what +they do visible. And by that much they become more responsible to the +general public. + +The purpose, then, is not to burden every citizen with expert opinions +on all questions, but to push that burden away from him towards the +responsible administrator. An intelligence system has value, of +course, as a source of general information, and as a check on the +daily press. But that is secondary. Its real use is as an aid to +representative government and administration both in politics and +industry. The demand for the assistance of expert reporters in the +shape of accountants, statisticians, secretariats, and the like, comes +not from the public, but from men doing public business, who can no +longer do it by rule of thumb. It is in origin and in ideal an +instrument for doing public business better, rather than an instrument +for knowing better how badly public business is done. + +2 + +As a private citizen, as a sovereign voter, no one could attempt to +digest these documents. But as one party to a dispute, as a +committeeman in a legislature, as an officer in government, business, +or a trade union, as a member of an industrial council, reports on the +specific matter at issue will be increasingly welcome. The private +citizen interested in some cause would belong, as he does now, to +voluntary societies which employed a staff to study the documents, and +make reports that served as a check on officialdom. There would be +some study of this material by newspaper men, and a good deal by +experts and by political scientists. But the outsider, and every one +of us is an outsider to all but a few aspects of modern life, has +neither time, nor attention, nor interest, nor the equipment for +specific judgment. It is on the men inside, working under conditions +that are sound, that the daily administrations of society must rest. + +The general public outside can arrive at judgments about whether these +conditions are sound only on the result after the event, and on the +procedure before the event. The broad principles on which the action +of public opinion can be continuous are essentially principles of +procedure. The outsider can ask experts to tell him whether the +relevant facts were duly considered; he cannot in most cases decide +for himself what is relevant or what is due consideration. The +outsider can perhaps judge whether the groups interested in the +decision were properly heard, whether the ballot, if there was one, +was honestly taken, and perhaps whether the result was honestly +accepted. He can watch the procedure when the news indicates that +there is something to watch. He can raise a question as to whether the +procedure itself is right, if its normal results conflict with his +ideal of a good life. [Footnote: _Cf._ Chapter XX. ] But if he +tries in every case to substitute himself for the procedure, to bring +in Public Opinion like a providential uncle in the crisis of a play, +he will confound his own confusion. He will not follow any train of +thought consecutively. + +For the practice of appealing to the public on all sorts of intricate +matters means almost always a desire to escape criticism from those +who know by enlisting a large majority which has had no chance to +know. The verdict is made to depend on who has the loudest or the most +entrancing voice, the most skilful or the most brazen publicity man, +the best access to the most space in the newspapers. For even when the +editor is scrupulously fair to "the other side," fairness is not +enough. There may be several other sides, unmentioned by any of the +organized, financed and active partisans. + +The private citizen, beset by partisan appeals for the loan of his +Public Opinion, will soon see, perhaps, that these appeals are not a +compliment to his intelligence, but an imposition on his good nature +and an insult to his sense of evidence. As his civic education takes +account of the complexity of his environment, he will concern himself +about the equity and the sanity of procedure, and even this he will in +most cases expect his elected representative to watch for him. He will +refuse himself to accept the burden of these decisions, and will turn +down his thumbs in most cases on those who, in their hurry to win, +rush from the conference table with the first dope for the reporters. + +Only by insisting that problems shall not come up to him until they +have passed through a procedure, can the busy citizen of a modern +state hope to deal with them in a form that is intelligible. For +issues, as they are stated by a partisan, almost always consist of an +intricate series of facts, as he has observed them, surrounded by a +large fatty mass of stereotyped phrases charged with his emotion. +According to the fashion of the day, he will emerge from the +conference room insisting that what he wants is some soulfilling idea +like Justice, Welfare, Americanism, Socialism. On such issues the +citizen outside can sometimes be provoked to fear or admiration, but +to judgment never. Before he can do anything with the argument, the +fat has to be boiled out of it for him. + +3 + +That can be done by having the representative inside carry on +discussion in the presence of some one, chairman or mediator, who +forces the discussion to deal with the analyses supplied by experts. +This is the essential organization of any representative body dealing +with distant matters. The partisan voices should be there, but the +partisans should find themselves confronted with men, not personally +involved, who control enough facts and have the dialectical skill to +sort out what is real perception from what is stereotype, pattern and +elaboration. It is the Socratic dialogue, with all of Socrates's +energy for breaking through words to meanings, and something more than +that, because the dialectic in modern life must be done by men who +have explored the environment as well as the human mind. + +There is, for example, a grave dispute in the steel industry. Each +side issues a manifesto full of the highest ideals. The only public +opinion that is worth respect at this stage is the opinion which +insists that a conference be organized. For the side which says its +cause is too just to be contaminated by conference there can be little +sympathy, since there is no such cause anywhere among mortal men. +Perhaps those who object to conference do not say quite that. Perhaps +they say that the other side is too wicked; they cannot shake hands +with traitors. All that public opinion can do then is to organize a +hearing by public officials to hear the proof of wickedness. It cannot +take the partisans' word for it. But suppose a conference is agreed +to, and suppose there is a neutral chairman who has at his beck and +call the consulting experts of the corporation, the union, and, let us +say, the Department of Labor. + +Judge Gary states with perfect sincerity that his men are well paid +and not overworked, and then proceeds to sketch the history of Russia +from the time of Peter the Great to the murder of the Czar. Mr. Foster +rises, states with equal sincerity that the men are exploited, and +then proceeds to outline the history of human emancipation from Jesus +of Nazareth to Abraham Lincoln. At this point the chairman calls upon +the intelligence men for wage tables in order to substitute for the +words "well paid" and "exploited" a table showing what the different +classes _are_ paid. Does Judge Gary think they are all well paid? +He does. Does Mr. Foster think they are all exploited? No, he thinks +that groups C, M, and X are exploited. What does he mean by exploited? +He means they are not paid a living wage. They are, says Judge Gary. +What can a man buy on that wage, asks the chairman. Nothing, says Mr. +Foster. Everything he needs, says Judge Gary. The chairman consults +the budgets and price statistics of the government. [Footnote: See an +article on "The Cost of Living and Wage Cuts," in the _New +Republic_, July 27, 1921, by Dr. Leo Wolman, for a brilliant +discussion of the naive use of such figures and "pseudo-principles." +The warning is of particular importance because it comes from an +economist and statistician who has himself done so much to improve the +technic of industrial disputes.] He rules that X can meet an average +budget, but that C and M cannot. Judge Gary serves notice that he does +not regard the official statistics as sound. The budgets are too high, +and prices have come down. Mr. Foster also serves notice of exception. +The budget is too low, prices have gone up. The chairman rules that +this point is not within the jurisdiction of the conference, that the +official figures stand, and that Judge Gary's experts and Mr. Foster's +should carry their appeals to the standing committee of the federated +intelligence bureaus. + +Nevertheless, says Judge Gary, we shall be ruined if we change these +wage scales. What do you mean by ruined, asks the chairman, produce +your books. I can't, they are private, says Judge Gary. What is +private does not interest us, says the chairman, and, therefore, +issues a statement to the public announcing that the wages of workers +in groups C and M are so-and-so much below the official minimum living +wage, and that Judge Gary declines to increase them for reasons that +he refuses to state. After a procedure of that sort, a public opinion +in the eulogistic sense of the term [Footnote: As used by Mr. Lowell +in his _Public Opinion and Popular Government_.] can exist. + +The value of expert mediation is not that it sets up opinion to coerce +the partisans, but that it disintegrates partisanship. Judge Gary and +Mr. Foster may remain as little convinced as when they started, though +even they would have to talk in a different strain. But almost +everyone else who was not personally entangled would save himself from +being entangled. For the entangling stereotypes and slogans to which +his reflexes are so ready to respond are by this kind of dialectic +untangled. + +4 + +On many subjects of great public importance, and in varying degree +among different people for more personal matters, the threads of +memory and emotion are in a snarl. The same word will connote any +number of different ideas: emotions are displaced from the images to +which they belong to names which resemble the names of these images. +In the uncriticized parts of the mind there is a vast amount of +association by mere clang, contact, and succession. There are stray +emotional attachments, there are words that were names and are masks. +In dreams, reveries, and panic, we uncover some of the disorder, +enough to see how the naive mind is composed, and how it behaves when +not disciplined by wakeful effort and external resistance. We see that +there is no more natural order than in a dusty old attic. There is +often the same incongruity between fact, idea, and emotion as there +might be in an opera house, if all the wardrobes were dumped in a heap +and all the scores mixed up, so that Madame Butterfly in a Valkyr's +dress waited lyrically for the return of Faust. "At Christmas-tide" +says an editorial, "old memories soften the heart. Holy teachings are +remembered afresh as thoughts run back to childhood. The world does +not seem so bad when seen through the mist of half-happy, half-sad +recollections of loved ones now with God. No heart is untouched by the +mysterious influence.... The country is honeycombed with red +propaganda--but there is a good supply of ropes, muscles and +lampposts... while this world moves the spirit of liberty will burn in +the breast of man." + +The man who found these phrases in his mind needs help. He needs a +Socrates who will separate the words, cross-examine him until he has +defined them, and made words the names of ideas. Made them mean a +particular object and nothing else. For these tense syllables have got +themselves connected in his mind by primitive association, and are +bundled together by his memories of Christmas, his indignation as a +conservative, and his thrills as the heir to a revolutionary +tradition. Sometimes the snarl is too huge and ancient for quick +unravelling. Sometimes, as in modern psychotherapy, there are layers +upon layers of memory reaching back to infancy, which have to be +separated and named. + +The effect of naming, the effect, that is, of saying that the labor +groups C and M, but not X, are underpaid, instead of saying that Labor +is Exploited, is incisive. Perceptions recover their identity, and the +emotion they arouse is specific, since it is no longer reinforced by +large and accidental connections with everything from Christmas to +Moscow. The disentangled idea with a name of its own, and an emotion +that has been scrutinized, is ever so much more open to correction by +new data in the problem. It had been imbedded in the whole +personality, had affiliations of some sort with the whole ego: a +challenge would reverberate through the whole soul. After it has been +thoroughly criticized, the idea is no longer _me_ but _that_. +It is objectified, it is at arm's length. Its fate is not bound up with my +fate, but with the fate of the outer world upon which I am acting. + +5 + +Re-education of this kind will help to bring our public opinions into +grip with the environment. That is the way the enormous censoring, +stereotyping, and dramatizing apparatus can be liquidated. Where there +is no difficulty in knowing what the relevant environment is, the +critic, the teacher, the physician, can unravel the mind. But where +the environment is as obscure to the analyst as to his pupil, no +analytic technic is sufficient. Intelligence work is required. In +political and industrial problems the critic as such can do something, +but unless he can count upon receiving from expert reporters a valid +picture of the environment, his dialectic cannot go far. + +Therefore, though here, as in most other matters, "education" is the +supreme remedy, the value of this education will depend upon the +evolution of knowledge. And our knowledge of human institutions is +still extraordinarily meager and impressionistic. The gathering of +social knowledge is, on the whole, still haphazard; not, as it will +have to become, the normal accompaniment of action. And yet the +collection of information will not be made, one may be sure, for the +sake of its ultimate use. It will be made because modern decision +requires it to be made. But as it is being made, there will accumulate +a body of data which political science can turn into generalization, +and build up for the schools into a conceptual picture of the world. +When that picture takes form, civic education can become a preparation +for dealing with an unseen environment. + +As a working model of the social system becomes available to the +teacher, he can use it to make the pupil acutely aware of how his mind +works on unfamiliar facts. Until he has such a model, the teacher +cannot hope to prepare men fully for the world they will find. What he +can do is to prepare them to deal with that world with a great deal +more sophistication about their own minds. He can, by the use of the +case method, teach the pupil the habit of examining the sources of his +information. He can teach him, for example, to look in his newspaper +for the place where the dispatch was filed, for the name of the +correspondent, the name of the press service, the authority given for +the statement, the circumstances under which the statement was +secured. He can teach the pupil to ask himself whether the reporter +saw what he describes, and to remember how that reporter described +other events in the past. He can teach him the character of +censorship, of the idea of privacy, and furnish him with knowledge of +past propaganda. He can, by the proper use of history, make him aware +of the stereotype, and can educate a habit of introspection about the +imagery evoked by printed words. He can, by courses in comparative +history and anthropology, produce a life-long realization of the way +codes impose a special pattern upon the imagination. He can teach men +to catch themselves making allegories, dramatizing relations, and +personifying abstractions. He can show the pupil how he identifies +himself with these allegories, how he becomes interested, and how he +selects the attitude, heroic, romantic, economic which he adopts while +holding a particular opinion. The study of error is not only in the +highest degree prophylactic, but it serves as a stimulating +introduction to the study of truth. As our minds become more deeply +aware of their own subjectivism, we find a zest in objective method +that is not otherwise there. We see vividly, as normally we should +not, the enormous mischief and casual cruelty of our prejudices. And +the destruction of a prejudice, though painful at first, because of +its connection with our self-respect, gives an immense relief and a +fine pride when it is successfully done. There is a radical +enlargement of the range of attention. As the current categories +dissolve, a hard, simple version of the world breaks up. The scene +turns vivid and full. There follows an emotional incentive to hearty +appreciation of scientific method, which otherwise it is not easy to +arouse, and is impossible to sustain. Prejudices are so much easier +and more interesting. For if you teach the principles of science as if +they had always been accepted, their chief virtue as a discipline, +which is objectivity, will make them dull. But teach them at first as +victories over the superstitions of the mind, and the exhilaration of +the chase and of the conquest may carry the pupil over that hard +transition from his own self-bound experience to the phase where his +curiosity has matured, and his reason has acquired passion. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE APPEAL TO REASON + +1 + +I HAVE written, and then thrown away, several endings to this book. +Over all of them there hung that fatality of last chapters, in which +every idea seems to find its place, and all the mysteries, that the +writer has not forgotten, are unravelled. In politics the hero does +not live happily ever after, or end his life perfectly. There is no +concluding chapter, because the hero in politics has more future +before him than there is recorded history behind him. The last chapter +is merely a place where the writer imagines that the polite reader has +begun to look furtively at his watch. + +2 + +When Plato came to the point where it was fitting that he should sum +up, his assurance turned into stage-fright as he thought how absurd it +would sound to say what was in him about the place of reason in +politics. Those sentences in book five of the Republic were hard even +for Plato to speak; they are so sheer and so stark that men can +neither forget them nor live by them. So he makes Socrates say to +Glaucon that he will be broken and drowned in laughter for telling +"what is the least change which will enable a state to pass into the +truer form," [Footnote: _Republic_, Bk. V, 473. Jowett transl.] +because the thought he "would fain have uttered if it had not seemed +too extravagant" was that "until philosophers are kings, or the kings +and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and +political greatness and wisdom meet in one... cities will never cease +from ill,--no, nor the human race..." + +Hardly had he said these awful words, when he realized they were a +counsel of perfection, and felt embarrassed at the unapproachable +grandeur of his idea. So he hastens to add that, of course, "the true +pilot" will be called "a prater, a star-gazer, a good-for-nothing." +[Footnote: 2 Bk. VI, 488-489.] But this wistful admission, though it +protects him against whatever was the Greek equivalent for the charge +that he lacked a sense of humor, furnished a humiliating tailpiece to +a solemn thought. He becomes defiant and warns Adeimantus that he must +"attribute the uselessness" of philosophers "to the fault of those who +will not use them, and not to themselves. The pilot should not humbly +beg the sailors to be commanded by him--that is not the order of +nature." And with this haughty gesture, he hurriedly picked up the +tools of reason, and disappeared into the Academy, leaving the world +to Machiavelli. + +Thus, in the first great encounter between reason and politics, the +strategy of reason was to retire in anger. But meanwhile, as Plato +tells us, the ship is at sea. There have been many ships on the sea, +since Plato wrote, and to-day, whether we are wise or foolish in our +belief, we could no longer call a man a true pilot, simply because he +knows how to "pay attention to the year and seasons and sky and stars +and winds, and whatever else belongs to his art." [Footnote: Bk. VI, +488-489.] He can dismiss nothing which is necessary to make that ship +sail prosperously. Because there are mutineers aboard, he cannot say: +so much the worse for us all... it is not in the order of nature that +I should handle a mutiny... it is not in the order of philosophy that +I should consider mutiny... I know how to navigate... I do not know +how to navigate a ship full of sailors... and if they do not see that +I am the man to steer, I cannot help it. We shall all go on the rocks, +they to be punished for their sins; I, with the assurance that I knew +better.... + +3 + +Whenever we make an appeal to reason in politics, the difficulty in +this parable recurs. For there is an inherent difficulty about using +the method of reason to deal with an unreasoning world. Even if you +assume with Plato that the true pilot knows what is best for the ship, +you have to recall that he is not so easy to recognize, and that this +uncertainty leaves a large part of the crew unconvinced. By definition +the crew does not know what he knows, and the pilot, fascinated by the +stars and winds, does not know how to make the crew realize the +importance of what he knows. There is no time during mutiny at sea to +make each sailor an expert judge of experts. There is no time for the +pilot to consult his crew and find out whether he is really as wise as +he thinks he is. For education is a matter of years, the emergency a +matter of hours. It would be altogether academic, then, to tell the +pilot that the true remedy is, for example, an education that will +endow sailors with a better sense of evidence. You can tell that only +to shipmasters on dry land. In the crisis, the only advice is to use a +gun, or make a speech, utter a stirring slogan, offer a compromise, +employ any quick means available to quell the mutiny, the sense of +evidence being what it is. It is only on shore where men plan for many +voyages, that they can afford to, and must for their own salvation, +deal with those causes that take a long time to remove. They will be +dealing in years and generations, not in emergencies alone. And +nothing will put a greater strain upon their wisdom than the necessity +of distinguishing false crises from real ones. For when there is panic +in the air, with one crisis tripping over the heels of another, actual +dangers mixed with imaginary scares, there is no chance at all for the +constructive use of reason, and any order soon seems preferable to any +disorder. + +It is only on the premise of a certain stability over a long run of +time that men can hope to follow the method of reason. This is not +because mankind is inept, or because the appeal to reason is +visionary, but because the evolution of reason on political subjects +is only in its beginnings. Our rational ideas in politics are still +large, thin generalities, much too abstract and unrefined for +practical guidance, except where the aggregates are large enough to +cancel out individual peculiarity and exhibit large uniformities. +Reason in politics is especially immature in predicting the behavior +of individual men, because in human conduct the smallest initial +variation often works out into the most elaborate differences. That, +perhaps, is why when we try to insist solely upon an appeal to reason +in dealing with sudden situations, we are broken and drowned in +laughter. + +4 + +For the rate at which reason, as we possess it, can advance itself is +slower than the rate at which action has to be taken. In the present +state of political science there is, therefore, a tendency for one +situation to change into another, before the first is clearly understood, +and so to make much political criticism hindsight and little else. Both in +the discovery of what is unknown, and in the propagation of that which +has been proved, there is a time-differential, which ought to, in a much +greater degree than it ever has, occupy the political philosopher. We +have begun, chiefly under the inspiration of Mr. Graham Wallas, to +examine the effect of an invisible environment upon our opinions. +We do not, as yet, understand, except a little by rule of thumb, the +element of time in politics, though it bears most directly upon the +practicability of any constructive proposal. [Footnote: _Cf_. H. G. +Wells in the opening chapters of _Mankind in the Making._] We +can see, for example, that somehow the relevancy of any plan depends +upon the length of time the operation requires. Because on the length +of time it will depend whether the data which the plan assumes as +given, will in truth remain the same. [Footnote: The better the +current analysis in the intelligence work of any institution, the less +likely, of course, that men will deal with tomorrow's problems in the +light of yesterday's facts.] There is a factor here which realistic +and experienced men do take into account, and it helps to mark +them off somehow from the opportunist, the visionary, the philistine +and the pedant. [Footnote: Not all, but some of the differences +between reactionaries, conservatives, liberals, and radicals are +due, I think, to a different intuitive estimate of the rate of change +in social affairs.] But just how the calculation of time enters into +politics we do not know at present in any systematic way. + +Until we understand these matters more clearly, we can at least +remember that there is a problem of the utmost theoretical difficulty +and practical consequence. It will help us to cherish Plato's ideal, +without sharing his hasty conclusion about the perversity of those who +do not listen to reason. It is hard to obey reason in politics, +because you are trying to make two processes march together, which +have as yet a different gait and a different pace. Until reason is +subtle and particular, the immediate struggle of politics will +continue to require an amount of native wit, force, and unprovable +faith, that reason can neither provide nor control, because the facts +of life are too undifferentiated for its powers of understanding. The +methods of social science are so little perfected that in many of the +serious decisions and most of the casual ones, there is as yet no +choice but to gamble with fate as intuition prompts. + +But we can make a belief in reason one of those intuitions. We can use +our wit and our force to make footholds for reason. Behind our +pictures of the world, we can try to see the vista of a longer +duration of events, and wherever it is possible to escape from the +urgent present, allow this longer time to control our decisions. And +yet, even when there is this will to let the future count, we find +again and again that we do not know for certain how to act according +to the dictates of reason. The number of human problems on which +reason is prepared to dictate is small. + +5 + +There is, however, a noble counterfeit in that charity which comes +from self-knowledge and an unarguable belief that no one of our +gregarious species is alone in his longing for a friendlier world. So +many of the grimaces men make at each other go with a flutter of their +pulse, that they are not all of them important. And where so much is +uncertain, where so many actions have to be carried out on guesses, +the demand upon the reserves of mere decency is enormous, and it is +necessary to live as if good will would work. We cannot prove in every +instance that it will, nor why hatred, intolerance, suspicion, +bigotry, secrecy, fear, and lying are the seven deadly sins against +public opinion. We can only insist that they have no place in the +appeal to reason, that in the longer run they are a poison; and taking +our stand upon a view of the world which outlasts our own +predicaments, and our own lives, we can cherish a hearty prejudice +against them. + +We can do this all the better if we do not allow frightfulness and +fanaticism to impress us so deeply that we throw up our hands +peevishly, and lose interest in the longer run of time because we have +lost faith in the future of man. There is no ground for this despair, +because all the _ifs_ on which, as James said, our destiny hangs, +are as pregnant as they ever were. What we have seen of brutality, we +have seen, and because it was strange, it was not conclusive. It was +only Berlin, Moscow, Versailles in 1914 to 1919, not Armageddon, as we +rhetorically said. The more realistically men have faced out the +brutality and the hysteria, the more they have earned the right to say +that it is not foolish for men to believe, because another great war +took place, that intelligence, courage and effort cannot ever contrive +a good life for all men. + +Great as was the horror, it was not universal. There were corrupt, and +there were incorruptible. There was muddle and there were miracles. +There was huge lying. There were men with the will to uncover it. It +is no judgment, but only a mood, when men deny that what some men have +been, more men, and ultimately enough men, might be. You can despair +of what has never been. You can despair of ever having three heads, +though Mr. Shaw has declined to despair even of that. But you cannot +despair of the possibilities that could exist by virtue of any human +quality which a human being has exhibited. And if amidst all the evils +of this decade, you have not seen men and women, known moments that +you would like to multiply, the Lord himself cannot help you. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Public Opinion, by Walter Lippmann + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUBLIC OPINION *** + +***** This file should be named 6456.txt or 6456.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/5/6456/ + +Produced by David Phillips, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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