APPENDIX I

THE POWER OF SOCIAL INTIMIDATION AS A PRINCIPLE OF POLITICAL LIFE

THE regulating principle of all government is the fear or the responsibility which tends to keep every member of the community in the path of duty, which influences their wills through the prospect of the consequences that would be entailed by neglect of duty. In propounding this idea1 I remarked that it would be erroneous, for this reason, to reserve fear as a "spring" or "principle" for despotic government, as Montesquieu does. That government, it may be added here, has another "spring," - terror, because the exercise of power under despotic rule baffles all calculation; a despot or his ministers can have subjects beheaded, flung into prison, or transported to the other end of the kingdom without any reason being assigned therefor. On the other hand, under régimes in which the relations of the rulers and the ruled are governed by laws, whether written or not written, the injunctions of which, either express or implied, indicate what transgressors are liable to, there is no place for terror, but only for the fear of incurring the consequences attached beforehand to the evil deeds in the mind and the conscience of the agent. The object of the fear, or the sanction, - to use Bentham's term, - to which one is exposed in public life is of four kinds: the legal sanction, the political sanction, the sanction of public opinion, and the inward sanction. In the first case the sanction is established by the express provisions of the law, and consists of penalties inflicted on the wrong-doers; in the second case the sanction comes from the working of the institutions: thus, under representative government, a minister or a member of Parliament, without incurring any punishment 1 See above, Vol. II, p. 626 et seq.

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from the law, runs the risk of losing his position if he acts in a way considered as contrary to his duty by those entitled to decide; in the third case no harm is to be apprehended save the disapprobation of public opinion; in the fourth case it is only the censure of one's own conscience that has to be dreaded. The fact that among the motives which determine the conduct of a citizen may be found the noblest and the most spontaneous, so to speak, in no way invalidates the correctness of the formula which embraces them all under the single heading of fear as the supreme regulator of governments. Fear is the general incentive, although it differs according to the nature of those on whom it acts; in some persons it appeals to the coarse emotions implied by the term in its vulgar sense, while in others it strikes finer chords of the mind. One can be intimidated even by the action of the gentlest moral virtues; by their sole manifestation they make men bow humbly and submissively before their majesty. Certain languages therefore have but one expression for rendering feelings of veneration and of intense fear; and the idea of reverential dread is associated with the notion of goodness itself, as in the words of Milton: "How awful goodness is." It is not absolutely necessary either for the social result of intimidation that it should proceed directly from outside. The inward sanction and the moral freedom of conscience in no way exclude social intimidation. In the decisions of conscience on the duties of man towards himself a distinction must be drawn between the duties of the individual taken singly and those of the individual as a member of society. Only a man living the life of a hermit depends morally on himself without any qualification; the duties which his human dignity enjoins on him, even in the desert where he lives, are determined by his conscience without the slightest intervention from outside. But this is no longer the case when he forms part of society; the duties enjoined on him by his human dignity are widened by those which he has towards society. Through the mere fact of surrounding him, society confronts him with his duties, says to him: "You have obligations towards your fellow-men, consider them, examine your conscience, you shall be your own judge, and if the verdict is guilty, you shall be

1

1 Abash'd the devil stood,

And felt how awful goodness is. - Paradise Lost.

your own executioner." He is left to himself, he goes his own way, and he decides without appeal. Society, then, has nothing to do with the matter, it will be said. Yes, but who has indicted him, who has set up the gibbet to which he will eventually be dragged by himself, but society? Of what forces but those of society at large does this punitory power of the individual conscience form part?

The four sanctions which constitute the resources of the power of social intimidation overlie and complete one another. None of the lower sanctions is strong enough by itself; each, in a way, calls for the next which possesses a higher force, until they culminate in the supreme sanction, which is the inward sanction. The injunctions of the laws, even if sanctioned by the severest penalties and supported by the most formidable brute force, cannot obtain full acceptance if they are not accepted by men's minds and consciences. A fortiori must the dictates of duty commend themselves by their moral force in social relations, which are beyond the reach of the law. And they will commend themselves all the more completely in proportion as this moral force gains in fulness, in proportion as those who inspire fear and those in whom they inspire it are swayed by purer and more enlightened motives. ever be the social sanction, if it exacts obedience through interest only, it cannot intimidate sufficiently. If I obey the law solely from interest, if I bow to public opinion for the same reason, I shall not do so whenever I have an interest in not doing so; I shall therefore, in that case, escape the power of the law, I shall pay no heed to public opinion, I shall defy them. If I am never to escape their power, I must be held to it, not only by interest, but by duty. It is then only that each sanction, that of the laws, or of the working of the institutions, or of public opinion, will, each in its sphere, produce its full intimidatory effect. But for them to determine my duty, they must be of such a nature as to commend themselves to my conscience. If the law is unjust, I shall, on the contrary, make a point of disobeying it as soon as I can; if public opinion is tyrannical or ill informed, I shall resist it from a sense of duty; in any event, I shall try to elude their action. All their material power will not be strong enough to make me consider as right and wise what my conscience and my

reason condemn, and force the free adhesion of my will. In short, their power of intimidation, in this case also, will not be complete. Besides, it may very well not be so even if it appeals to duty; that will depend on the nature of the duty, according as it is a true expression of the moral obligation or a factitious, conventional one. In this latter case enlightened consciences will not respond to its appeal; they will defy it. Under a despotic government, for instance, blind obedience to the sovereign's caprices, even if they are iniquitous, is honestly considered as a duty; but the moral conscience thus warped rights itself some day or other, and defeats the tyrannical power of the ruler. In republics, it is held to be a civic duty to vote for "yellow dogs" if they are regular candidates, and the act of "bolting" is looked on as a moral misdemeanour; but "mugwumps" arise, set at defiance public opinion, which professes this duty and tries to enforce it, and win the day. It follows, thus, that to be complete and absolute, the power of social intimidation, however great may be the material force of numbers by which it is backed, is obliged to moralize itself more and more to the point of taking up its abode in the conscience, free and enlightened, of the members of the community. By simply obeying, in a way, its own logic, fear is led to make force the handmaid of justice, and to press, in its own interest so to speak, in order to attain the maximum of its action, towards the continuous elevation of the idea of justice and of the notion of duty, and of the criteria by which they are recognized in practice. Under these circumstances, the power of social intimidation is not only an irresistible weapon in the hands of the multitude, but also becomes a means of defence and of action for the individual confronted with numbers. Henceforth he can meet the despotism of public opinion with a moral force capable of overawing it: as soon as free reason supported by the conscience can assert itself, there is no longer any place for the absolute sway of the majority, one may defy the majority by criticizing its opinions, by attacking its prejudices; a man may hold his own against numbers, may overawe the multitude by moral authority, although he be one against a thousand.

The property of the power of social intimidation as a principle of political life and the conditions on which it attains