Dominion, Chapter X, 2

8 Some therefore imagine monarchy more burdensome than democracy, because there is less liberty in the former than in the latter. If by liberty they mean freedom from the subjection owed to the laws—that is, to the commands of the people—no such liberty exists in democracy or in any other form of government. If they take liberty to mean having few laws and few prohibitions, and only such prohibitions as are needed for peace, I deny that democracy offers more liberty than monarchy; either form is equally compatible with it. For though the word liberty may be written in large letters over the gates of any city, it means the liberty of the city, not of its subjects; nor is that word any more rightly inscribed on a city governed by the people than on one ruled by a monarch. When private persons or subjects demand liberty, however, what they seek under that name is not liberty but dominion, though through lack of understanding they scarcely realize it. For if everyone granted others the same liberty he desires for himself, as the law of nature commands, the state of nature would return, in which every person has the right to do everything. If they understood this, they would abhor it as worse than any kind of civil subjection. But if someone wants freedom for himself alone while the rest remain bound, what is he asking for but dominion? Whoever is free of every bond is lord over all who remain bound. Subjects therefore have no greater liberty in a popular state than in a monarchy. What deceives them is their equal share in command and public offices. Where authority resides in the people, individual subjects share in it insofar as they are parts of the ruling people; and they share equally in public offices insofar as they have equal votes in choosing magistrates and public ministers. This is what Aristotle meant when, following the usage of his time, he too mistakenly called dominion liberty. (Polit. lib. vi. cap. 2.) In a popular state there is liberty by supposition—a common saying, as though no one were free outside such a state. From this we may also gather that subjects who lament their lost liberty in a monarchy are merely resentful that they have not been admitted to the helm of the commonwealth.

It is no disadvantage to subjects that they are not all admitted to public deliberations.

9 But perhaps for this very reason some will say that a popular state is much preferable to a monarchy: where everyone takes part in public affairs, all have a chance to display their wisdom, knowledge, and eloquence in deliberations on matters of the greatest difficulty and importance. Because the desire for praise is rooted in human nature, nothing is more delightful to those who excel in such gifts, or think themselves superior to others. In a monarchy this path to praise and honor is closed to most subjects; and if that is not a grievance, what is? I will tell you: to see the opinion of someone we scorn preferred to our own; to have our wisdom disparaged to our faces; to incur certain enmities in pursuit of a little uncertain, empty glory (for this cannot be avoided whether our opinion wins or loses); to hate and be hated over differences of opinion; to disclose our private counsels and advice to everyone for no purpose or benefit; to neglect the affairs of our own family—these, I say, are grievances. But exclusion from a contest of wits, though such contests please the eloquent, is no grievance to them, unless we are to say that brave men are wronged when restrained from fighting simply because they enjoy it.

Civil deliberations are unwisely entrusted to many because most people lack the necessary knowledge:

10 Moreover, there are many reasons why deliberations succeed less well in great assemblies than in smaller councils. One is that, to advise rightly on everything that serves the preservation of a commonwealth, we must understand not only domestic matters but foreign affairs as well. At home, we must know what resources feed and defend the country and where they come from; which places are suitable for garrisons; how best to raise and maintain soldiers; what feelings the subjects bear toward their prince or the governors of their country; and many similar things. Abroad, we must know the strength of each neighboring country and what it rests upon; what advantages or disadvantages we may receive from them; how they are disposed toward us and toward one another; and what counsels are daily discussed among them. Since very few in a great assembly understand these things, most being unskilled in them, if not incapable of grasping them, what can so many advisers contribute with their irrelevant opinions to sound counsel except obstructions and impediments?

Because of their eloquence:

11 Another reason a great assembly is ill suited to consultation is that everyone who gives an opinion considers it necessary to speak at length and, to win greater esteem from his hearers, polishes and ornaments his speech with the finest, smoothest language. The nature of eloquence is to make good and evil, profitable and unprofitable, honorable and dishonorable appear greater or less than they really are, and to make the unjust seem just whenever that serves the speaker's end: that is what it means to persuade. Even when speakers reason, they begin not from true principles but from commonly accepted opinions, which are mostly mistaken. Nor do they strive so much to fit their words to the nature of their subject as to the passions of their audience; thus opinions are delivered not through right reason but through a kind of force exerted on the mind. This fault belongs not to the person but to the nature of eloquence itself: as all teachers of rhetoric tell us, its aim is not truth, except by chance, but victory, and its function is not to inform but to entice.

Because of faction:

12 The third reason counsel succeeds less well in a great assembly is that factions arise from it in a commonwealth, and from factions come seditions and civil war. When equally matched orators contend with opposing opinions and speeches, the defeated speaker hates the victor and all his supporters, believing they hold his counsel and wisdom in contempt; he seeks every means of making his opponents' advice harmful to the state, hoping thereby to strip them of glory and recover it for himself. Moreover, when the votes are close enough that the defeated hope to become the stronger party at the next sitting by winning a few more to their opinion, their leaders call the rest together. They consult privately on how to overturn the former judgment; arrange to arrive first and early at the next assembly; determine what each person will say and in what order, so that the same business may be debated again. Thus the measure previously confirmed by the number of their opponents then present may now be rendered in some degree ineffectual while those opponents are carelessly absent. This industry and diligence employed to build a party among the people is commonly called faction. But when a faction is outnumbered in votes yet superior, or not much inferior, in force, it attempts by arms what it cannot achieve through cunning and speech; civil war follows. Some will say that these things do not happen necessarily, or often. They might as well say that leaders are not necessarily desirous of empty glory and that the greatest among them seldom disagree on great matters.

Because of the instability of the laws:

13 It follows that when legislative power resides in such assemblies, the laws must be inconstant: they change not with changes in the state of affairs, nor with changes in people's minds, but as a majority assembles first from one faction and then another. The laws thus drift back and forth, as though upon the waters.

For lack of secrecy.

14 Fourth, the counsels of great assemblies have this drawback: though it is often vital to keep them secret, they are usually disclosed to the enemy before they can be carried out. Their power and intentions become known abroad as soon as they are known to the commanding people at home.

These inconveniences attach to democracy because people naturally delight in thinking themselves clever.

15 These disadvantages in the deliberations of great assemblies show monarchy to be better than democracy insofar as, in a democracy, affairs of great importance are more often entrusted for discussion to committees of this kind than in a monarchy. Nor can it easily be otherwise. For people have no natural reason to attend to public rather than private business, except that public business gives them a chance to display their eloquence. By this they may gain a reputation for ingenuity and wisdom and return home to their friends, parents, wives, and children, rejoicing and exulting in the applause won by their skill. So, in former times, all the delight Marcus Coriolanus took in his feats of war was to see how much his praises pleased his mother. But if the people in a democracy entrusted deliberation on war and peace to one person or a very few, contenting themselves with appointing magistrates and public ministers—that is, with authority but not its administration—then it must be admitted that democracy and monarchy would be equal in this respect.

The disadvantages of government arising from a king's being a child.

16 Nor do the relative advantages and disadvantages of different forms of government arise from whether government itself, or the administration of its affairs, is better entrusted to one than to many, or to many than to a few. Government is the power; its administration is the act. The power is equal in every form of government; only the acts differ—that is, the actions and movements of a commonwealth as they proceed from the deliberations of many or few, of competent or incompetent people. We see, then, that the advantages or disadvantages of a government depend not on the one who holds authority but on that person's officers. Nothing therefore prevents a commonwealth from being well governed when its monarch is a woman, a young person, or an infant, provided those entrusted with public offices and duties are fit for them. The saying, woe to the land whose king is a child, does not mean that monarchy is inferior to a popular state. On the contrary, it means that a kingdom suffers an accidental misfortune when its king is a child: ambitious and powerful people often thrust themselves into public councils, so that the government comes to be administered democratically; from this arise the misfortunes that commonly attend the rule of the people.

The power of generals is an argument for the excellence of monarchy.

17 A clear sign that the most absolute monarchy is the best form of government is that not only kings but even cities ruled by the people or by nobles give the entire command of war to a single person, and make that command as absolute as it can be. Here it should also be noted that no king can grant a general more authority over his army than he himself may rightfully exercise over all his subjects. Monarchy, then, is the best government in camps. And what are many commonwealths but so many camps, fortified with arms and men against one another? Because no common power restrains them, their condition, though an uncertain peace like a brief truce may pass between them, must be reckoned the state of nature, which is the state of war.

The best condition of a commonwealth is one in which the subjects are the ruler's inheritance.

18 Finally, since our preservation requires us to be subject to some person or council, we cannot be subject on better terms than to one whose interest depends upon our safety and welfare. This happens when we are the ruler's inheritance, for everyone naturally strives to preserve his inheritance. The subjects' lands and money are not the prince's only treasure: their bodies and lively minds are also his treasure. Those who consider how highly dominion over even small countries is valued, and how much easier it is for people to acquire money than for money to acquire people, will readily grant this. Nor do we readily find any example of a subject who, without fault of his own, was stripped of life or property by his prince solely through the lawless exercise of his authority.

Aristocracy is better the nearer it approaches monarchy, and worse the further it departs from it.

19 Thus far we have compared monarchy with popular government; we have said nothing of aristocracy. From what has been said of the other two, we may conclude that an aristocracy that is hereditary and confines itself to choosing magistrates, that entrusts its deliberations to a few of the ablest people, and that imitates the government of monarchs most and that of the people least, is both better for its subjects and more enduring than the rest.

15 Fashioned by human artifice, etc.] It seems the ancients were pointing to this in their fable of Prometheus. They say that Prometheus stole fire from the sun and formed a man from clay, and that for this deed Jupiter punished him with an eternal gnawing at his liver. The meaning is that human invention, represented by Prometheus, took laws and justice from monarchy by imitation. Through their power, as though through fire removed from its natural sphere, the multitude—the dirt and dregs of humanity—was brought to life, as it were, and formed into a civil person called aristocracy or democracy. But the author and his accomplices, who could have lived safely and quietly under the natural jurisdiction of kings, suffer for it: exposed continually to change, they are tormented by unending cares, suspicions, and dissensions.

8 Some people think monarchy is more burdensome than democracy because it gives people less liberty. If they mean freedom from obeying the laws—that is, the commands of the people—there is no such freedom in a democracy or any other form of government. Perhaps they mean having few laws and prohibitions, limited to those needed to keep the peace. But I deny that a democracy offers more of this freedom than a monarchy. Both can provide it equally well. The word liberty may be written in large letters over the gates of any city. Yet it refers to the city's liberty, not its subjects' liberty. A city governed by the people has no better claim to that word than one ruled by a monarch. When private individuals or subjects demand liberty, they are really demanding dominion, though they scarcely realize it. The law of nature requires everyone to grant others the liberty he wants for himself. If everyone did this, the state of nature would return. In that state everyone has the right to do anything. If they understood this, they would hate it as worse than any kind of civil subjection. But if one man wants freedom for himself while everyone else remains bound, what is he asking for but dominion? Anyone freed from all restraints is lord over those who remain bound. So subjects have no more liberty under popular government than under monarchy. What misleads them is their equal share in command and public office. Where authority rests with the people, individual subjects share in that authority as members of the ruling people. They also share equally in public offices because they have equal votes in choosing magistrates and public ministers. Aristotle meant this, though, following the custom of his time, he too mistakenly called dominion liberty. (Polit. lib. vi. cap. 2.) He says that in a popular state there is liberty by assumption. This is an ordinary way of speaking, as though no one could be free under another kind of government. We can therefore conclude, in passing, that subjects who mourn their lost liberty in a monarchy merely resent being excluded from steering the commonwealth.

It does not harm subjects to be excluded from public deliberations.

9 But perhaps some will say that this is exactly why popular government is much better than monarchy. When everyone takes part in public affairs, everyone has a chance to show wisdom, knowledge, and eloquence while debating the most difficult and important matters. Because people naturally want praise, nothing is more pleasant to those who excel at these skills, or think they do. In a monarchy, most subjects cannot win praise and honor this way. What counts as a grievance if that does not? I will tell you what does. It is seeing the opinion of someone we despise preferred to ours, and seeing our wisdom underrated to our faces. It is risking certain hostility for an uncertain taste of empty glory, whether we win the debate or lose it. It is hating others and being hated over disagreements. It is exposing our private plans and advice to everyone for no purpose or benefit, and neglecting our own families' affairs. These are grievances. Being kept out of a contest of wits is not a grievance, even if eloquent people enjoy such contests. Otherwise we would have to say that brave men suffer a grievance when they are kept from fighting because they enjoy it.

Public deliberations are unwisely entrusted to many people because most lack the necessary knowledge:

10 There are also many reasons why large assemblies make worse decisions than small councils. One is that sound advice on everything needed to preserve a commonwealth requires knowledge of both domestic and foreign affairs. At home, one must know what resources feed and defend the country and where they come from, which places are suitable for garrisons, and how best to recruit and support soldiers. One must know what the subjects feel toward their prince or other rulers, and many similar things. Abroad, one must know how powerful each neighboring country is and what its power consists of. One must know what advantages or disadvantages it can bring us, how it feels toward us and toward its other neighbors, and what plans are being discussed there each day. Very few people in a large assembly understand these matters. Most lack the knowledge, if not the ability, to understand them. What can so many advisers and their irrelevant opinions add to good counsel except obstruction and delay?

Because of their eloquence:

11 Another reason large assemblies are ill suited to deliberation is that everyone who gives an opinion thinks he must make a long speech. To gain his listeners' esteem, he polishes it with the smoothest and finest language. Eloquence works by making good and evil, useful and useless, honorable and dishonorable seem greater or smaller than they really are. It makes injustice look like justice whenever that serves the speaker's purpose. That is how persuasion works. Even when speakers argue, they begin not with true principles but with commonly accepted opinions, most of which are mistaken. They try less to fit their words to the facts than to fit them to the feelings of their audience. As a result, their opinions come from the force of emotion, not sound reasoning. The fault lies not with the person but with eloquence itself. As every teacher of rhetoric tells us, its goal is victory, not truth except by accident. Its characteristic effect is to attract, not to inform.

Because of faction:

12 The third reason people deliberate less successfully in a large gathering is that factions arise there. Factions lead to uprisings and civil war. When equally skilled speakers fight for opposing positions, the loser hates the winner and everyone on his side. He thinks they have shown contempt for his judgment and wisdom, so he looks for every way to make their advice harm the state. He hopes their loss of glory will restore his own. Also, when the vote is close enough that the losing side hopes a few more supporters could give it a majority at the next meeting, its leaders call their allies together. They plan in private how to overturn the earlier decision. They arrange to arrive first at the next meeting and decide what each person should say and in what order. They want the matter debated again, so that the decision approved by the greater number of their opponents present before can now lose its force because those opponents have carelessly stayed away. This organized effort to gather supporters is commonly called a faction. But if a faction has fewer votes while having more power, or not much less power, it attempts by armed force what it cannot achieve by planning and speaking. That is how civil war begins. Someone may say these things do not necessarily happen, or do not often happen. He might as well say that leading politicians do not necessarily want empty glory and that the most powerful among them seldom disagree on important questions.

Because the laws become unstable:

13 It follows that when legislative power rests in assemblies like these, the laws are bound to be unstable. They change not as circumstances change, nor even as people's minds change, but according to whichever faction happens to assemble a majority. The laws thus drift back and forth like things floating on water.

For lack of secrecy.

14 Fourth, large assemblies have this disadvantage: their plans often need to be kept secret, but the enemy usually discovers them before they can be put into effect. What they are able and willing to do becomes known abroad as soon as it becomes known to the people who give the orders at home.

These problems belong to democracy because people naturally enjoy thinking themselves clever.

15 These problems in large assemblies' deliberations show that monarchy is better than democracy to the extent that democracy more often entrusts important matters to such groups for discussion. It is hard for a democracy to do otherwise. People naturally care more about their private affairs than public business. The reason they take part in public business is that it lets them display their eloquence. They can win a reputation for intelligence and wisdom, then go home to their friends, parents, wife, and children and celebrate the praise earned by their skillful performance. In ancient times, all the pleasure Marcus Coriolanus took in his military achievements came from seeing how much his mother enjoyed hearing him praised. But suppose the people in a democracy gave the power to deliberate on war and peace to one person or a very few. Suppose they were content to name magistrates and public ministers, keeping the authority to choose them but leaving the work of governing to them. Then democracy and monarchy would, in this respect, be equal.

Problems in government arising when the king is a child.

16 The advantages and disadvantages found more often in one form of government than another do not result from placing governing power in one person rather than many, or in many rather than a few. Government is the power; administering government is the exercise of that power. The power is equal under every form of government. Only its exercise differs: the commonwealth acts according to the advice of many or few, of knowledgeable or ignorant people. We can therefore see that a government's advantages and disadvantages depend not on the person holding authority but on that person's officers. Nothing prevents a commonwealth from being well governed when its monarch is a woman, a young person, or an infant, provided that those appointed to public offices and duties are capable. The saying 'Woe to the land whose king is a child' does not mean that monarchy is worse than popular government. On the contrary, it describes an accidental problem in a kingdom. When the king is a child, many ambitious and powerful people often push into the public councils, so that government is administered like a democracy. From this come the misfortunes that usually accompany rule by the people.

The power of generals shows the excellence of monarchy.

17 One clear sign that the most absolute monarchy is the best form of government is that kings and even cities ruled by the people or the nobility give complete command in war to just one person. They make that command as absolute as possible. Note also that a king cannot give a general more authority over his army than the king himself has the right to exercise over all his subjects. Monarchy, then, is the best government in military camps. And what are many commonwealths but camps fortified with people and weapons against one another? No common power restrains them. Even if an uncertain peace, like a short truce, occurs between them, their condition must be considered the state of nature, which is a state of war.

The best condition for a commonwealth is one in which the subjects are their ruler's inheritance.

18 Finally, since our survival requires us to submit to some person or council, we cannot do better than submit to someone whose own interests depend on our safety and well-being. This happens when we are the ruler's inheritance. Everyone naturally tries to preserve his inheritance. A prince's treasure includes not only his subjects' lands and money, but also their bodies and their shrewd minds. Anyone who considers the high price placed on ruling even small countries, and how much easier it is for people to acquire money than for money to acquire people, will readily agree. Nor do we easily find an example of a prince stripping a subject of life or property, through the unchecked exercise of his power alone, when the subject has done nothing wrong.

Aristocracy is better the closer it comes to monarchy, and worse the farther it departs from it.

19 So far we have compared monarchy with popular government, without discussing aristocracy. From what has been said about the other two, we can conclude this: an aristocracy that is hereditary, confines itself to electing magistrates, assigns its deliberations to a small group of the most capable people, and generally follows the example of monarchs rather than the people is both better for its subjects and more lasting than the others.

15 Put together by human craft, etc.] The ancients seem to have meant this in their story of Prometheus. They say that Prometheus stole fire from the sun and made a man out of clay. For this, Jupiter punished him by having his liver gnawed forever. The meaning is that human invention, represented by Prometheus, copied laws and justice from monarchy. By their power, like fire taken from its natural place, the multitude—the dirt and dregs of humanity—was brought to life and formed into a political person. This is called aristocracy or democracy. But those responsible for this, who could have lived safely and quietly under the natural authority of kings, pay for it. They remain exposed to change and suffer endless worries, suspicions, and conflicts.