Book III, Chapter 8

That No Form of Government Suits Every Country

Freedom is not a fruit of every climate, and so is not within every people's reach. The more one reflects on this principle established by Montesquieu, the more one feels its truth. The more one contests it, the more occasions one provides to establish it by fresh proofs.

In every government in the world, the public person consumes and produces nothing. Where, then, does what it consumes come from? From the labor of its members. The surplus of individuals supplies the needs of the public. It follows that the civil state can subsist only so long as human labor yields more than its workers need.

Now this surplus is not the same in every country of the world. In many it is considerable, in others moderate, in others nil, in still others negative. This relation depends on the fertility of the climate, the kind of labor the soil requires, the nature of its produce, the strength of its inhabitants, the greater or lesser consumption they need, and several other similar factors of which it is composed.

On the other hand, governments are not all of the same nature: some are more voracious than others. These differences rest on a further principle: the farther public contributions travel from their source, the more burdensome they become. The burden must be measured not by the amount of taxation, but by the journey the taxes make before returning to the hands from which they came. When this circulation is swift and well established, whether people pay much or little is immaterial: the people are always prosperous and the finances always sound. Conversely, however little the people give, when that little never comes back to them, continually giving soon exhausts them: the state is never rich, and the people are always destitute.

It follows that the greater the distance between the people and the government, the more burdensome taxes become. Thus under democracy the people bear the lightest burden, under aristocracy a heavier one, and under monarchy the heaviest of all. Monarchy, then, suits only wealthy nations; aristocracy, states of moderate wealth as well as moderate size; and democracy, small and poor states.

Indeed, the more one reflects on this, the clearer the difference between free states and monarchies appears: in the former everything is used for the common benefit; in the latter public and private forces oppose one another, and each grows as the other weakens. Finally, instead of governing subjects to make them happy, despotism makes them miserable in order to govern them.

Thus in each climate there are natural causes by which one may determine the form of government toward which the climate's force draws it, and even say what kind of inhabitants it ought to have. Barren and ungrateful places where the yield is not worth the labor must remain uncultivated and deserted, or inhabited only by peoples living in the wild. Places where human labor yields exactly what is needed must be inhabited by peoples without a civil polity; any political order there would be impossible. Places where the surplus of produce over labor is moderate suit free peoples; those where rich and fertile land yields much for little labor call for monarchy, to consume through the prince's luxury the excess surplus of the subjects, for it is better that this excess be absorbed by the government than squandered by individuals. There are exceptions, I know; but these very exceptions confirm the rule, since sooner or later they produce revolutions that restore things to the order of nature.

Let us always distinguish general laws from particular causes that may modify their effect. Even if the entire south were covered with republics and the entire north with despotic states, it would remain true that the effect of climate makes despotism suited to hot countries, barbarism to cold countries, and a sound political order to regions between them. I also see that, once the principle is granted, its application may be disputed: one may say that some cold countries are very fertile, and some southern countries very barren. But this is a difficulty only for those who do not examine the matter in all its relations. We must reckon, as I have already said, with labor, strength, consumption, and so on.

Suppose two equal plots of land, one yielding five and the other ten. If the inhabitants of the first consume four and those of the second nine, the surplus of the first yield will be 1/5 and that of the second 1/10. Since the ratio of these two surpluses is the inverse of the ratio of the yields, the plot yielding only five will provide twice the surplus of the plot yielding ten.

But this is not a question of a twofold yield, and I doubt anyone would dare claim in general that cold countries are even as fertile as hot ones. Nevertheless, let us assume this equality; let us, if you will, weigh England against Sicily and Poland against Egypt. Farther south we have Africa and the Indies; farther north we have nothing at all. Even with an equal yield, what a difference in cultivation! In Sicily one need only scratch the soil; in England, how much care it takes to plow it! Where more hands are needed to produce the same yield, the surplus must necessarily be smaller.

Consider besides that the same number of people consumes much less in hot countries. The climate requires temperance for good health: Europeans who try to live there as they do at home all perish of dysentery and indigestion. “Compared with Asians,” says Chardin, “we are carnivorous beasts, wolves. Some attribute the sobriety of the Persians to their country's being less cultivated; I believe, on the contrary, that their country has less food because its inhabitants need less. If their frugality,” he continues, “were a result of scarcity in the country, only the poor would eat little, whereas everyone generally does; and people would eat more or less in each province according to the fertility of the land, whereas the same sobriety prevails throughout the kingdom. They praise their way of life highly, saying one need only look at their complexion to see how much better it is than that of Christians. The Persians do indeed have an even complexion and skin that is fair, fine, and smooth, whereas the complexion of their subjects the Armenians, who live in the European manner, is coarse and blotchy, and their bodies are heavy and fat.”

The nearer one comes to the equator, the less people need to live on. They eat scarcely any meat; rice, corn, couscous, millet, and cassava are their ordinary foods. In the Indies there are millions of people whose food costs less than a sol a day. Even in Europe we see marked differences of appetite between northern and southern peoples. A Spaniard can live eight days on a German's dinner. In countries where people are more voracious, luxury turns toward things to be consumed. In England it appears on a table laden with meat; in Italy one is treated to sugar and flowers.

Luxury in clothing shows similar differences. In climates where changes of season are swift and violent, people have better and simpler clothes; where dress is only for adornment, they seek show more than utility, and clothes themselves become a luxury. In Naples you will see men strolling every day along the Pausilipo in gold-embroidered jackets and no stockings. It is the same with buildings: everything is given over to magnificence when one has nothing to fear from the weather. In Paris and London people want warm and comfortable lodgings. In Madrid they have splendid drawing rooms, but no windows that close, and they sleep in rat holes.

Food is much more substantial and succulent in hot countries; this is a third difference that cannot fail to influence the second. Why are so many vegetables eaten in Italy? Because there they are good, nourishing, and excellent in flavor. In France, where they are nourished only by water, they provide no nourishment and scarcely count for anything at table. Yet they take no less land and cost at least as much labor to grow. Experience has shown that the grain of Barbary, inferior in other respects to that of France, yields far more flour, while French grain in turn yields more than northern grain. From this we may infer that a similar progression is generally observed in the same direction from the equator to the pole. Is it not a clear disadvantage to have a smaller quantity of food from an equal yield?

To all these considerations I may add one that follows from and reinforces them: hot countries need fewer inhabitants than cold countries and could support more. This produces a double surplus, always to the advantage of despotism. The greater the area occupied by the same number of inhabitants, the more difficult revolts become: people cannot concert their plans either quickly or secretly, and the government can always readily discover their designs and cut off communication. But the closer a populous people lives together, the less the government can usurp the sovereign's power: leaders deliberate as securely in their rooms as the prince does in his council, and crowds gather in the squares as quickly as troops in their barracks. The advantage of tyrannical government here, then, is its ability to act over great distances. With the points of support it establishes, its force increases over distance like that of levers. The people's force, on the contrary, works only when concentrated; spread out, it evaporates and is lost, like gunpowder scattered on the ground that ignites only grain by grain. The least populous countries are thus the most suited to tyranny: wild beasts reign only in deserts.

Not every form of government suits every country.

Freedom is not a fruit of every climate, so it is not within every people's reach. The more we consider this principle established by Montesquieu, the more we see its truth. The more people dispute it, the more opportunities they give us to establish it with new evidence.

In every government in the world, the public body consumes but produces nothing. Where, then, does what it consumes come from? From the work of its members. The surplus produced by individuals supplies the public's necessities. It follows that a civil society can survive only so long as people's work produces more than they need.

Now this surplus is not the same in every country. In many it is large; in others moderate; in others zero; and in still others negative. The amount depends on the climate's fertility, the kind of work the land requires, the nature of what it produces, the strength of its inhabitants, how much they need to consume, and several similar relationships that make it up.

On the other hand, not all governments are alike. Some consume more than others. These differences rest on another principle: the farther public contributions travel from their source, the more burdensome they become. We should measure this burden not by the amount of tax collected but by the distance the money must travel before returning to the hands that paid it. If this circulation is prompt and works properly, it does not matter whether people pay much or little. They are always prosperous and public finances are always sound. Conversely, however little the people give, if it never comes back to them, they soon use up their resources by constantly paying. The state is never rich, and the people are always poor.

It follows that the greater the distance between the people and the government, the heavier the taxes become. Thus in democracy the people carry the lightest burden, in aristocracy a heavier one, and in monarchy the heaviest. Monarchy therefore suits only wealthy nations; aristocracy suits states of middling wealth and size; democracy suits small, poor states.

Indeed, the more we think about it, the more differences we find here between free and monarchical states. In the first, everything serves the common good. In the second, public and private forces work against each other: one grows as the other weakens. In the end, rather than governing subjects to make them happy, despotism makes them miserable in order to govern them.

So each climate has natural causes from which we can identify the form of government its conditions lead to, and even say what kind of inhabitants it should have. Barren, infertile places where the yield is not worth the work should remain uncultivated and empty, or be inhabited only by peoples living without settled institutions. Places where human labor produces exactly what is needed must be inhabited by peoples without organized government; political society would be impossible there. Places where the excess of output over labor is moderate suit free peoples. Places where rich, fertile soil yields a great deal for little work call for monarchy. The prince's luxury can then consume the subjects' excess surplus, for it is better that the government absorb it than that individuals waste it. There are exceptions, I know. But these very exceptions confirm the rule, since sooner or later they bring about revolutions that return things to the natural order.

We must always distinguish general laws from the particular causes that can change their effects. Even if the whole south were covered in republics and the whole north in despotic states, it would still be true that climate makes despotism suitable for hot countries, lack of political organization for cold ones, and sound political society for regions in between. I can also see that people might accept the principle while disputing its application. They might say that some cold countries are very fertile and some southern ones very barren. But this is a problem only for people who fail to look at every relevant factor. As I have already said, we must take account of labor, strength, consumption, and so on.

Suppose that two equally sized pieces of land yield five and ten respectively. If the inhabitants of the first consume four and those of the second nine, the first yield's surplus is 1/5 and the second's is 1/10. The ratio of these surpluses is the reverse of the ratio of the yields. Thus the land yielding only five gives twice the surplus of the land yielding ten.

But we are not talking about a yield twice as large. I do not think anyone would dare claim that cold countries are generally even as fertile as hot ones. Still, let us suppose that they are equally fertile. Let us set England against Sicily and Poland against Egypt, if you like. Farther south we have Africa and the Indies; farther north we have nothing left. Even with equal yields, how different is the work of cultivating the land! In Sicily it only needs scratching; in England it needs so much labor to plow it. Where more hands are needed to produce the same yield, the surplus must be smaller.

Consider, too, that the same number of people consume much less in hot countries. The climate requires moderation in food for good health. Europeans who try to live there as they do at home all die of dysentery and indigestion. "Compared with the Asians," says Chardin, "we are meat-eating beasts, wolves." Some people say the Persians eat moderately because their land is less cultivated. I believe, on the contrary, that their land has fewer provisions because its inhabitants need less. If their frugality, he continues, resulted from a shortage of food in the country, only poor people would eat little. Instead, everyone does. People would also eat more or less in each province according to its fertility, but the same moderation is found throughout the kingdom. They take great pride in the way they live, saying that you need only look at their complexions to see how much better it is than the Christians' way of life. In fact, Persians have even complexions and beautiful, fine, smooth skin. By contrast, their Armenian subjects, who live like Europeans, have rough, blotchy complexions and large, heavy bodies.

The closer people live to the equator, the less they live on. They eat almost no meat. Rice, corn, couscous, millet, and cassava are their usual foods. In the Indies millions of people eat for less than a sol a day. Even in Europe we see clear differences in appetite between northern and southern peoples. A Spaniard could live for eight days on a German's dinner. In countries where people eat more, luxury centers on things to consume. In England it appears on a table loaded with meat; in Italy you are treated to sugar and flowers.

Luxury in clothing shows similar differences. In climates where seasons change quickly and sharply, clothing is better made and simpler. Where people dress only to look good, they seek showiness rather than practical use. Clothes themselves become a luxury. In Naples you will see men walking along the Pausylippe every day in gold jackets and no stockings. The same is true of buildings. When there is no harsh weather to fear, all the effort goes into grandeur. In Paris and London people want homes that are warm and comfortable. In Madrid they have splendid rooms, but no windows that close, and they sleep in places fit for rats.

Food is much more nourishing and flavorful in hot countries. This is a third difference that must have an effect on the second. Why do people eat so many vegetables in Italy? Because they are good, nourishing, and delicious. In France, where vegetables are fed only with water, they provide no nourishment and scarcely count at the table. Yet they take up no less land and require at least as much work to grow. Experience has shown that grain from Barbary, though otherwise inferior to French grain, yields far more flour. French grain in turn yields more than northern grain. From this we can infer that the same progression generally holds from the equator to the pole. Is it not a clear disadvantage to get less food from the same amount of produce?

To all these different considerations I can add one that follows from them and strengthens them. Hot countries need fewer inhabitants than cold countries, yet could feed more. This creates a double surplus, always to the advantage of despotism. The larger the area occupied by the same number of people, the harder it is to revolt. People cannot coordinate quickly or secretly, and the government can easily discover plots and cut off communication. But the closer together a large population lives, the less the government can seize the sovereign's power. Leaders can discuss matters in their rooms as securely as the prince does in his council, and crowds can assemble in the squares as quickly as troops in their quarters. A tyrannical government therefore has the advantage when acting over great distances. With the points of support it establishes, its power grows at a distance like the power of levers. The people's power, by contrast, works only when concentrated. It dissipates and fades as it spreads out, like gunpowder scattered on the ground, which catches fire only one grain at a time. The least populated countries are thus the most suited to tyranny: fierce animals reign only in deserts.