Part II: Chapter III, 1

Nothing could present a sharper contradiction than the principles on which the old governments began and the condition to which society, civilization, and commerce can bring humanity. Under the old system, government assumes power to magnify itself; under the new, power is delegated for society's common benefit. The former sustains itself through a system of war; the latter advances a system of peace as the true means of enriching a nation. One encourages national prejudices; the other advances a universal society as the means to universal commerce. One measures its prosperity by the revenue it extorts; the other proves its excellence by how little it needs to tax.

Mr. Burke has spoken of old and new Whigs. If childish labels and distinctions entertain him, I shall not disturb his pleasure. This chapter is addressed not to him but to the Abbé Sieyès. I have already undertaken to discuss monarchical government with that gentleman; since the subject arises naturally when the old and new systems are compared, I take this opportunity to offer him my observations. I shall take up Mr. Burke now and then along the way.

It might be proved that the system of government now called new is, in principle, the most ancient of all, founded as it is on the original, inherent Rights of Man. Yet tyranny and the sword have suspended the exercise of those rights for many centuries; for the sake of a clear distinction, it is better to call this system new than to claim the right to call it old.

The first broad distinction between the two systems is this: what is now called the old system is hereditary, wholly or partly, while the new is entirely representative. It rejects all hereditary government:

First, Because it is an imposition on humanity.

Secondly, Because it cannot serve the purposes for which government is needed.

On the first point—it cannot be shown by what right hereditary government could have begun, nor is there any power within mortal reach that confers a right to establish it. No one has authority over posterity in matters of personal right; consequently no person or group ever had, or ever can have, the right to establish hereditary government. Even if we ourselves were to return to life instead of being succeeded by our descendants, we have no right now to strip ourselves of the rights that would then belong to us. By what claim, then, do we presume to strip others of theirs?

All hereditary government is tyranny by its nature. An inheritable crown, an inheritable throne, or whatever fanciful name is bestowed on such a thing, can signify nothing but that humanity is inheritable property. To inherit a government is to inherit its people as though they were flocks and herds.

On the second point—that hereditary government is inadequate to the purposes for which government is needed—we need only consider what government is in essence and compare it with the accidents to which hereditary succession is exposed.

Government ought always to be fully mature. It should be built to withstand all the contingencies to which an individual is subject; and hereditary succession, exposed to every one of them, is therefore the most irregular and imperfect of all systems of government.

We have heard the Rights of Man called a leveling system. But the one system that truly deserves that word is hereditary monarchy: it levels the mind. It admits every kind of character indiscriminately to the same authority. Vice and virtue, ignorance and wisdom—in short, every quality, good or bad, is put on the same plane. Kings succeed one another not as reasoning beings but as animals. Their intellectual and moral characters make no difference. Should we be surprised, then, by the abject condition of the human mind in monarchical countries, when government itself is founded on so abject a leveling system?—It has no settled character. Today it is one thing; tomorrow another. It changes with the temperament of each successor and is subject to all its variations. It is government through passion and accident. It assumes in turn the forms of childhood, infirmity, and senility: a thing in the nursery, on leading strings, or on crutches. It reverses the healthy order of nature. At times it places children above adults, and youthful conceits above wisdom and experience. In short, nothing could present a more ridiculous image of government than hereditary succession in all its forms.

If nature could decree, or heaven register an edict, and humanity could know, that virtue and wisdom invariably accompanied hereditary succession, the objection would fall away. But we see nature acting as though she disowned the hereditary system and made sport of it; successors in every country have intellects below the human average; one is a tyrant, another an idiot, a third insane, and some are all three at once. It is impossible to place confidence in such a system while human reason has the power to act.

I do not need to make this argument to the Abbé Sieyès: he has spared me the trouble by stating his own view. “If I am asked,” he says, “what I think of hereditary right, I answer without hesitation: In sound theory, the hereditary transmission of any power or office can never accord with the laws of true representation. Hereditary succession is, in this sense, as much a violation of principle as an outrage against society. But let us,” he continues, “look to the history of every elective monarchy and principality: is there one in which election is not worse than hereditary succession?”

To debate which of the two is worse is to admit that both are bad; on that we agree. The Abbé's preference condemns the very thing he prefers. Such reasoning is inadmissible on this subject, for it amounts in the end to an accusation against Providence, as though she had left humanity no choice in government but between two evils, the better of which he admits to be “a violation of principle and an outrage against society.”

Leaving aside for now all the evils and injuries monarchy has inflicted on the world, nothing proves its uselessness in civil government more decisively than making it hereditary. Would we make hereditary any office that required wisdom and ability? And where neither wisdom nor ability is required, such an office, whatever it is, must be unnecessary or insignificant.

Hereditary succession makes a burlesque of monarchy. It shows monarchy in its most ridiculous light, as an office any child or idiot could fill. Even an ordinary mechanic needs some skill; to be a king requires only the human animal form—a kind of breathing automaton. This superstition may survive a few more years, but it cannot long withstand humanity's awakened reason and sense of interest.

As for Mr. Burke, he champions monarchy not merely as a pensioner, if he is one, as I believe, but as a political thinker. He has formed a contemptible opinion of humanity, which in turn is forming the same opinion of him. He sees people as a herd of beings to be ruled by deceit, images, and spectacle; an idol would serve his idea of monarchy as well as a man. Yet I will do him justice: where America is concerned, he has been lavish in praise. He has always maintained, at least in my hearing, that Americans were more enlightened than the English or any people in Europe, and therefore had no need of government by theatrical display.

Though the Abbé's comparison of hereditary and elective monarchy is beside the point, since the representative system rejects them both, if I were to make that comparison I would reach the opposite conclusion.

Civil wars born of disputed hereditary claims have been more numerous, more terrible, and longer-lasting than those caused by elections. All France's civil wars arose from the hereditary system: either hereditary claims produced them, or the defects of a system that permits regencies and monarchy in the nursery. England's history is full of the same misfortunes. The struggle for succession between the houses of York and Lancaster lasted a whole century, and similar struggles have recurred since. Those of 1715 and 1745 were of the same kind. The war of succession for Spain's crown embroiled almost half of Europe. The disturbances in Holland spring from the hereditary office of Stadtholder. A government calling itself free while retaining a hereditary office is like a thorn in the flesh, producing an inflammation that seeks to expel it.

I could go further and attribute foreign wars of every kind to the same cause. Add hereditary succession to the evil of monarchy, and a permanent family interest arises, forever pursuing dominion and revenue. Poland, though an elective monarchy, has fought fewer wars than hereditary monarchies; and it is the only government that has voluntarily attempted, however modestly, to improve its country's condition.

Having glanced at a few defects of the old, hereditary systems of government, let us compare them with the new, representative system.

The representative system takes society and civilization as its foundation, and nature, reason, and experience as its guides.

The principles on which old governments began could hardly be more at odds with what society, civilization, and commerce can help people achieve. Under the old system, a government takes power to increase its own importance. Under the new system, people delegate power for the good of society as a whole. The old government sustains itself through war. The new one promotes peace as the true way to make a nation prosperous. One encourages prejudice against other nations; the other encourages people everywhere to live and trade together. One measures its success by how much revenue it can squeeze out of people. The other proves its worth by how little tax it needs.

Mr. Burke has talked about old and new Whigs. If he enjoys playing with childish names and distinctions, I will not spoil his fun. This chapter is addressed not to him but to the Abbe Sieyes. I have already promised to discuss monarchical government with the Abbe. The subject comes up naturally when comparing the old system with the new, so I will present my observations here. Along the way, I will sometimes address Mr. Burke.

One could show that the system now called new is actually the oldest in principle of any government. It rests on the original, inherent Rights of Man. Yet tyranny and the sword have kept people from exercising those rights for many centuries. To make the distinction clear, it is better to call this system new than to insist on calling it old.

The first broad difference between the two systems is this: the system now called old is hereditary in whole or in part, while the new system is entirely representative. The new system rejects every hereditary government:

First, because it is imposed on people.

Second, because it cannot serve the purposes for which government is needed.

On the first point, no one can prove what right a hereditary government could have had to begin. Nor can any human being have the right to establish one. No one has authority to take away the personal rights of future generations. So no person or group of people ever had, or can have, the right to establish hereditary government. Even if we ourselves were to live again instead of being replaced by future generations, we have no right now to take away the rights we would possess then. On what grounds, then, can we claim the right to take those rights from others?

Every hereditary government is tyrannical by nature. An inherited crown or throne, whatever grand name anyone gives it, can only mean that people are inherited property. To inherit a government is to inherit the people, as though they were flocks or herds.

On the second point, hereditary government cannot do what government needs to do. We need only consider what government is by its nature and compare it with the things that can happen under hereditary succession.

Government should always be fully mature. It should be built to withstand all the accidents that can affect an individual person. Hereditary succession is exposed to every one of them. It is therefore the most erratic and flawed system of government.

We have heard the Rights of Man called a system that levels everyone. But the system to which the word leveling really applies is hereditary monarchy. It levels people's minds. It lets people of every kind hold the same authority without distinction. Vice and virtue, ignorance and wisdom, and every other good or bad quality are treated alike. Kings succeed one another not because they are rational people but because they are animals of the same family. Their character and judgment make no difference. Should we be surprised that people's minds are held so low in monarchies when their governments rest on this degrading kind of leveling? Hereditary government has no fixed character. It is one thing today and something else tomorrow. It changes with each new ruler's temperament and every variation in that person's behavior. The government operates through passions and accidents. It appears as a child, as a frail old person, as someone who has lost sound judgment, as an infant in a nurse's care, as a child learning to walk, or as someone on crutches. It reverses the sound order of nature. Sometimes it puts children in charge of adults and immature whims above wisdom and experience. In short, hereditary succession in all its forms gives us the most ridiculous picture of government imaginable.

The objection would disappear if nature had decreed, or heaven had issued a law people could know, that wisdom and virtue would always belong to hereditary successors. But nature seems to reject and mock the hereditary system. In every country, successors have less judgment than the average person. One is a tyrant, another a fool, a third mentally unsound, and some combine all three. When people can use their reason, they cannot reasonably place their trust in that system.

I do not need to present this reasoning to the Abbe Sieyes. He has saved me the trouble by giving his opinion already. "If I am asked," he says, "what I think of hereditary right, I answer without hesitation: as a sound theory, the hereditary transfer of any power or office can never agree with the laws of genuine representation. In this sense, hereditary succession violates the principle and does violence to society. But let us," he continues, "look at the history of every elective monarchy and principality. Is there one in which election is not worse than hereditary succession?"

To debate which of these two is worse is to admit that both are bad. On that point we agree. The Abbe's preference condemns the very thing he prefers. That kind of reasoning will not do here. In the end, it accuses Providence of giving people only two bad choices for government, even though he himself says that the better choice "violates the principle and does violence to society."

For now, set aside all the harm monarchy has done in the world. Making monarchy hereditary is itself the strongest possible proof that it is useless in civil government. Would we make any position hereditary if it required wisdom and ability? And if a position does not require them, it is unnecessary or unimportant, whatever it is.

Hereditary succession makes a joke of monarchy. It makes monarchy look utterly ridiculous by showing it as a position any child or fool can fill. Even an ordinary mechanic needs some skill. A king needs only the body of a human being, a kind of breathing machine. This superstition may last a few more years. But it cannot withstand people's awakened reason and their understanding of their own interests for long.

Mr. Burke strongly supports monarchy. I believe he receives a government pension, but that is not his only reason; he supports it as a political thinker too. He has come to think very little of humanity, and people in turn are beginning to think very little of him. He sees them as a herd to be ruled by deception, images, and ceremony. For his purposes, an idol could serve as well as a person for a monarch. In fairness, though, he has praised America highly. At least when I heard him, he always argued that Americans were more enlightened than the people of England or any European country. For that reason, he said, American governments did not need the deception of grand displays.

The Abbe's comparison of hereditary monarchy with elective monarchy is unnecessary, because representative government rejects both. But if I did compare them, I would reach the opposite conclusion from his.

Civil wars over disputed hereditary claims have been more numerous, more terrible, and longer-lasting than civil wars caused by elections. All the civil wars in France arose from the hereditary system. They were caused either by claims of inheritance or by flaws in the system, which allows a regent to govern while the monarch is a child. England's history is also full of these disasters. The houses of York and Lancaster fought over the succession for a whole century, and similar conflicts have happened since. The conflicts of 1715 and 1745 were of the same kind. The war over who would inherit the Spanish crown drew almost half of Europe into conflict. The unrest in Holland comes from making the office of Stadtholder hereditary. If a government calls itself free but has a hereditary office, that office is like a thorn in its flesh, causing an irritation that the body tries to expel.

I could go further and trace foreign wars of all kinds to the same cause. Adding hereditary succession to monarchy creates a permanent family interest, always seeking more territory and revenue. Poland has an elective monarchy but has had fewer wars than hereditary monarchies. It is also the only government that has voluntarily tried, even on a small scale, to improve conditions in the country.

Now that we have looked briefly at some flaws of the old, hereditary systems, let us compare them with the new, representative system.

Representative government is based on society and civilization. It takes nature, reason, and experience as its guides.