Part II: Chapter V, 9

Assuming, then, that such a connection is likely, I will set out some ways an alliance of these nations, together with Holland, might serve not only the nations directly involved but all of Europe.

I think it certain that, if the fleets of England, France, and Holland were united, they could effectively propose a limit on all Europe's navies and their general reduction to an agreed proportion.

First, no European power, including the allied powers themselves, should build another warship.

Second, all existing navies should be reduced, say, to one-tenth of their present strength. This would save France and England at least two millions sterling a year each, while leaving their relative strength in the same proportion as it stands today. If people would only think as rational beings ought, nothing could appear more ridiculous and absurd, even apart from moral considerations, than spending money to build fleets, fill them with men, and send them to sea to discover which can sink the other faster. Peace costs nothing and brings infinitely more benefit than the costliest victory. But what best serves nations does not serve court governments, whose habitual policy requires excuses for taxation and for posts and offices.

I also think it certain that these united powers, joined by the United States of America, could effectively propose to Spain that South America be made independent, opening those vast and wealthy countries to the commerce of the whole world, as North America now is.

How much more glory and advantage a nation gains by using its power to free the world from bondage and make friends than by using that power to spread ruin, desolation, and misery! The dreadful spectacle now unfolding under the English government in the East Indies would be fit only for stories of Goths and Vandals, who, devoid of principle, plundered and tortured a world they could not enjoy.

Opening South America would create an immense field for commerce and a market paying ready money for manufactured goods, unlike the East. The East already makes abundant manufactured goods. Importing them not only harms England's manufacturers but drains its silver. The trade balance against England regularly sends more than half a million a year in silver aboard the East India ships; that, together with German intrigue and subsidies to Germany, is why England has so little silver.

For governments of this kind, however, every war is a harvest, however ruinous it may be for the nation. War keeps deceptive hopes alive and prevents people from examining the defects and abuses of government. Cries of "Look here! Look there!" divert and cheat the multitude.

Never has such an opportunity presented itself to England and all Europe as the two Revolutions in America and France have created. The first has given freedom a national champion in the western world; the second, one in Europe. Once another nation joins France, despotism and bad government will scarcely dare show themselves. To use a familiar expression, the iron is heating up throughout Europe. The insulted German and enslaved Spaniard, the Russian and the Pole, are beginning to think. This age will one day deserve to be called the Age of Reason, and this generation will appear to posterity as the Adam of a new world.

When all European governments are founded on representation, nations will come to know one another and the hostility and prejudice fostered by the schemes and cunning of courts will cease. The oppressed soldier will become a free man; the tormented sailor, no longer dragged through the streets like a criminal, will safely undertake a merchant voyage. Nations would do better to continue paying their soldiers for life, discharge them and return them to freedom and their friends, and stop recruiting, than to maintain so many at the same cost in a condition useless to society and themselves. Soldiers have been treated in most countries as though they had no friends. Shunned by citizens who fear they are enemies of liberty, and too often insulted by their commanders, they have suffered a double oppression. But where genuine principles of liberty spread among a people, everything returns to order, and the soldier, treated civilly, responds in kind.

When we consider revolutions, we can readily see that they may spring from two distinct causes: the wish to avoid or escape some great calamity, or the wish to gain some great and positive good. We may call them active and passive revolutions. In those prompted by the first cause, tempers flare and turn bitter, and redress won through danger is too often stained by revenge. In those prompted by the second, people are stirred rather than inflamed and approach the matter calmly. Reason and discussion, persuasion and conviction, are the weapons of the contest; only when those are suppressed does anyone resort to violence. When people agree that a thing would be good if they could achieve it—relief from heavy taxation and an end to corruption, for example—the task is more than half done. What they approve as an end they will help bring about.

Will anyone say, with taxation now so excessive and weighing so heavily on the poor, that returning five pounds a year in taxes to one hundred and four thousand poor families would not be good? Will anyone say that returning seven pounds a year to one hundred thousand other poor families, eight pounds a year to another hundred thousand, and ten pounds a year to fifty thousand poor and widowed families would not be good? And to climb one step further, will anyone say it is not good to guard against the misfortunes to which every human life is subject by ensuring six pounds a year for all poor, distressed, and impoverished people from the age of fifty until sixty, and ten pounds a year thereafter?

Will anyone say that abolishing two millions in poor-rates for householders, the entire tax on houses and windows, and the commutation tax would not be good? Or that abolishing corruption would be bad?

If the good to be gained deserves a peaceful, rational revolution without cost, it would be unwise to wait instead for calamity to compel a violent one. With reforms now taking place and spreading across Europe, I cannot imagine England allowing itself to be last. When occasion and opportunity present themselves peacefully, it is better to seize them than to wait for violent necessity. Winning redress through courage and danger may do credit to humanity's animal powers; achieving the same end through reason, compromise, and general consent does far greater honor to our rational powers.*40

As reforms—or revolutions, call them what you will—spread among nations, those nations will form alliances and conventions. Once a few have joined together, progress will be swift until despotism and corrupt government are entirely driven out of at least two quarters of the world, Europe and America. The Algerine pirates can then be ordered to cease their attacks, for they exist only because old governments maliciously use them against one another.

Throughout this work, despite the many varied subjects I have taken up and investigated, I have written only one paragraph on religion, namely: "Every religion that teaches people to be good is good."

I have deliberately avoided dwelling on the subject, because I suspect those who make up the present ministry want disputes over religion to continue so the nation will not turn its attention to government. It is as if they were saying, "Look that way, or any way, but not this way."

But since religion is so improperly turned into a political instrument, destroying its true substance, I will end this work by explaining how religion appears to me.

Imagine a large family of children who make a custom of presenting their parents with some sign of affection and gratitude on a particular day or occasion. Each child would offer something different, probably in a different way. Some would bring greetings in verse or prose, or little creations inspired by their talents or by what they thought would give pleasure. Perhaps the youngest, unable to make any of these, would wander into the garden or a field and pick the prettiest flower it could find, even if it were a common weed. The parent would take more pleasure in this variety than in a concerted plan under which each child made exactly the same offering. The latter would have the chill of contrivance or the harshness of compulsion. But nothing could distress the parent more than learning that all the children had afterward come to blows—boys and girls fighting, scratching, reviling, and abusing one another over whose gift was best or worst.

Why should we not suppose that the great Father of all delights in a diversity of devotion, and that our greatest offense against him is to seek to torment one another and make one another miserable? For myself, I am fully convinced that my present endeavor—to reconcile humanity, make people's lives happy, unite nations long at enmity, end the dreadful practice of war, and break the chains of slavery and oppression—is acceptable in his sight. It is the best service I can offer, and I offer it gladly.

I do not believe any two people who think at all agree on what are called points of doctrine. Only those who have not thought seem to agree. So it is with what is called the British constitution. People have assumed it is good and offered praise in place of proof. But when the nation examines its principles and the abuses it allows, it will discover more defects than I have identified in this work and its first part.

As for what are called national religions, we might just as reasonably speak of national Gods. The idea is either a political trick or a remnant of paganism, when every nation had its own particular deity. Of all the writers among the English church clergy who have addressed religion in general, none has surpassed the present Bishop of Llandaff. I am glad to take this opportunity to express my respect for him.

I have now treated the whole subject, at least as far as I can see at present. During the five years I have spent in Europe, I intended to address the people of England on government if an opportunity arose before I returned to America. Mr. Burke has given me that opportunity, and I thank him. On one occasion three years ago I urged him to propose a fairly elected national convention to consider the state of the nation. But I found that, however strongly the tide in parliament then ran against the party he supported, its policy was to keep everything within that corrupt arena and trust to chance. Long experience had shown that parliaments would follow any change of ministers, and upon this the party rested its hopes and expectations.

In the past, disputes about governments were settled by the sword, and civil war followed. The new system has cast off that savage custom in favor of national conventions. Discussion and the general will settle the question; individual opinion gracefully yields to them, and order remains undisturbed.

Some gentlemen have affected to call the principles on which this work and the first part of Rights of Man rest "a new-fangled doctrine." The question is not whether those principles are old or new, but whether they are right or wrong. Assuming they are right, I will illustrate their effect with a simple image.

It is now nearly the middle of February. If I walked in the country, the trees would look bare and wintry. Like others who pluck a twig while walking, I might do so and happen to notice a single bud beginning to swell upon it. It would be unnatural reasoning—or no reasoning at all—to suppose that this was the only bud in England showing signs of growth. I would at once conclude that the same thing was beginning, or about to begin, everywhere. Though some trees and plants will sleep longer than others, and some may not flower for two or three years, all will bear leaves in summer except those that are rotten. No one can foresee how closely the political summer will keep pace with the natural one. Yet it is not hard to see that spring has begun.—And so, sincerely wishing freedom and happiness to all nations, I close the Second Part.

If such a connection is possible, let me explain how an alliance with Holland as well could help not just its members but all of Europe.

I think that if England, France, and Holland joined their fleets, they could effectively propose limits on every navy in Europe and a general reduction to an agreed size.

First, no European power, including the members of the alliance, would build another warship.

Second, every existing navy would be reduced to, say, one-tenth its present strength. France and England would each save at least two million pounds sterling a year. The relative size of their navies would remain unchanged. If people would think rationally, they would see how absurd it is, even apart from the moral issues, to spend money building warships, filling them with crews, and sending them out to sea to see which side can sink the other fastest. Peace costs nothing and offers far more benefits than even the most expensive victory. But while peace serves the interests of nations, it does not serve court governments. Their usual policy is to invent reasons for taxes, jobs, and offices.

I also think that these allied powers, together with the United States of America, could effectively urge Spain to grant South America independence. They could urge Spain to open those vast, wealthy countries to trade with the whole world, as North America already is.

A country gains far more honor and benefit by using its strength to free others from oppression and make friends than by using it to spread ruin, destruction, and misery. The English government's horrifying actions in the East Indies are the kind of story one expects to hear about the Goths and Vandals. Lacking principles, they robbed and tortured a world whose riches they could not enjoy.

Opening South America would create a vast opportunity for trade and a market that pays cash for manufactured goods, unlike the East. The East already produces many manufactured goods. Importing them not only harms English manufacturers but drains England of silver and gold. Trade with the East regularly costs England more than it brings in. More than half a million pounds a year in silver goes out on East India ships. That trade, together with German intrigue and payments to German rulers, explains why England has so little silver.

But governments like these profit from any war, however ruinous it is for the country. War lets them keep up false expectations that distract people from looking at the faults and abuses of government. They cry, "Look here! Look there!" to entertain and deceive the public.

The revolutions in America and France have created an opportunity greater than any England or Europe has ever had. The first gave freedom a nation to defend it in the western world. The second did the same in Europe. Once another nation joins France, tyranny and bad government will hardly dare show themselves. As people often say, the iron is heating up across Europe. Germans who have been insulted, Spaniards who have been enslaved, Russians, and Poles are starting to think for themselves. People in the future will have reason to call this the Age of Reason. To them, our generation will look like the first human beings in a new world.

Once all European governments are based on representation, nations will come to know one another. The hatred and prejudices stirred up by court intrigues will end. Oppressed soldiers will become free citizens. Sailors will no longer be mistreated and dragged through the streets like criminals; they will safely make voyages for trade. Countries would do better to keep paying their soldiers for life, release them to their freedom and their friends, and stop recruiting. That would be better than spending the same money to keep so many people in a condition that benefits neither society nor themselves. In most countries, soldiers have been treated as if they have no friends. Civilians avoid them because they fear soldiers are enemies of freedom. Commanders insult them all too often. They suffer on both sides. But when a people truly believe in liberty, things are put right: treat soldiers with respect, and they respond in kind.

Revolutions can begin for two different reasons. People may want to escape some great harm, or they may want to achieve some great benefit. We can call these active and passive revolutions. When people revolt to escape harm, they grow angry and bitter. The reform they win at great risk is too often stained by revenge. But when people seek a positive good, they are inspired rather than agitated and approach the matter calmly. Their tools are reason, discussion, persuasion, and conviction. They turn to violence only when someone tries to silence those methods. When people agree that a goal is good if they can achieve it—such as easing the burden of taxes and ending corruption—they have already done more than half the work. Once they approve of the goal, they will support the means to reach it.

With taxes so excessive and so hard on the poor, will anyone say it is bad to give one hundred and four thousand poor families relief from five pounds a year in taxes? Will anyone say it is bad to give one hundred thousand other poor families relief from seven pounds a year, another hundred thousand relief from eight pounds a year, and fifty thousand poor and widowed families relief from ten pounds a year? And to take this further, is it bad to protect people against hardships that can strike anyone? That protection would give every poor person, anyone in distress, and anyone who has lost their livelihood six pounds a year from age fifty until sixty, and ten pounds a year after sixty.

Will anyone say it is bad to abolish two million pounds in poor rates paid by householders, the entire tax on houses and windows, and the commutation tax? Or will anyone say it is bad to end corruption?

If these benefits are worth a peaceful, reasonable revolution that costs nothing, it would be unwise to wait for a disaster that forces a violent one. Reforms are already happening and spreading across Europe. I cannot imagine England letting itself be the last to make them. When a peaceful chance presents itself, taking it is better than waiting until turmoil makes reform unavoidable. It may reflect well on human courage to win change by facing danger. But it reflects far better on our ability to reason to achieve the same result through discussion, compromise, and general agreement.*40

As reforms—or revolutions, whatever you call them—spread among nations, those nations will make alliances and agreements. Once a few have joined together, progress will speed up until tyranny and corrupt government are driven out of at least two parts of the world, Europe and America. We can then order an end to piracy from Algiers. It continues only because old governments use it against one another as part of their spiteful policies.

This work has examined many different subjects. But in all of it, I have written only one paragraph about religion, including the statement "that every religion is good that teaches man to be good."

I have deliberately avoided saying more. I believe those now called the ministry want religious disputes to continue so the nation will not pay attention to government. It is as though they were saying, "Look that way, or any way, but this."

But religion is wrongly used as a political tool, and that destroys what is real in it. So I will end this work by explaining how I see religion.

Imagine a large family of children who have a custom of giving their parents a sign of love and thanks on a particular day or for a particular occasion. Each child would probably give something different, in a different way. Some might offer congratulations in poetry or prose. Others might make little gifts according to their talents or what they thought would please their parents. Perhaps the youngest child, unable to do any of that, would wander into the garden or a field and pick the prettiest flower it could find, even if it was just a common weed. The parent would enjoy this variety more than a plan under which every child brought exactly the same gift. A planned display would seem cold and artificial, or suggest harsh control. But nothing would distress the parent more than learning that all the children later fought among themselves, boys and girls alike. They would hit, scratch, insult, and abuse one another over whose gift was best or worst.

Why not suppose that the great Father of all is pleased by different kinds of worship? Why not suppose that the worst offense we can commit is to torment one another and make one another miserable? For my part, I am sure he approves of what I am doing now. I am trying to bring people together, make their lives happier, unite nations that have been enemies, end the horrible practice of war, and break the chains of slavery and oppression. It is the best service I can give, and I give it gladly.

I do not believe that any two people who think about religious doctrine agree on every point. Only those who have not thought about it seem to agree. The same is true of what people call the British constitution. People have simply assumed it is good and praised it instead of offering proof. When the nation examines its principles and the abuses it allows, people will find even more faults than I have described in this work and its earlier part.

So-called national religions make no more sense than national gods. They are either a political trick or a leftover from paganism, when every nation had its own particular god. Of all the writers among English church clergy who have discussed religion in general, none has surpassed the current Bishop of Llandaff. I am glad to take this opportunity to express my respect for him.

I have now covered the whole subject, at least as far as I can see it now. During the five years I have spent in Europe, I have intended to speak to the people of England about government if I had the chance before returning to America. Mr. Burke gave me that chance, and I thank him. Three years ago, on one occasion, I urged him to propose a fairly elected national convention to examine the condition of the country. But although the direction of Parliament was then strongly against his party, I found that its policy was to keep everything within that corrupt parliamentary system and hope for a lucky turn. Experience had shown that Parliament would follow any change of ministers. That was where his party placed its hopes.

In the past, disputes over governments were settled by the sword, leading to civil war. The new system rejects that savage custom and turns instead to national conventions. Discussion and the general will settle the matter. Individuals accept the result willingly, and public order continues without interruption.

Some gentlemen have tried to call the principles behind this work and the earlier part of Rights of Man "a new-fangled doctrine." What matters is not whether the principles are new or old, but whether they are right or wrong. If they are right, I can explain their effect with an easy example.

It is now nearly the middle of February. If I walked in the countryside, the trees would look bare and wintry. People often pluck twigs as they walk, and I might do so too. I might happen to notice that one bud on my twig had begun to swell. It would make no sense to conclude that it was the only swelling bud in England. I would immediately suppose that the same thing was beginning, or about to begin, everywhere. Some trees and plants will remain dormant longer than others. Some may not bloom for two or three years. Still, all except the rotten ones will have leaves in the summer. No one can predict how closely a political summer will follow the natural one. But it is easy to see that spring has begun. With a sincere wish for the freedom and happiness of all nations, I end the Second Part.