Liberty, Equality, Fraternity
1873
A direct challenge to John Stuart Mill's "On Liberty," defending the use of coercion to promote virtue and attacking the dogmas of the French Revolution. Stephen's work is the most powerful Victorian critique of liberal individualism.
Introduction
The object of this work is to examine the doctrines which are rather hinted at than expressed by the phrase 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity.' This phrase has been the motto of more than one republic. It is about these words that the great struggle of our time is being waged. They are the creed of a religion, and that religion is the religion of humanity—the religion which has undertaken to supersede Christianity and every other form of religion.
I do not propose to discuss the question What is liberty? For what purpose the word can be used is a matter of little importance. What really matters is the question whether liberty, rightly understood, is a good thing or a bad thing, and if it is a good thing, up to what point and under what circumstances it is a good thing.
"The great defect of Mr. Mill's later writings seems to me to be that he has formed too favourable an estimate of human nature."
The great defect of Mr. Mill's later writings seems to me to be that he has formed too favourable an estimate of human nature. He has been so much struck by the importance of liberty that he underrates the importance of other things. He appears to think that if you leave people to themselves they will become what they ought to be. The truth is that the vast majority of mankind are neither very good nor very bad, but simply dull and commonplace.
The Doctrine of Liberty
Mr. Mill's doctrine is that the only ground on which the law is justified in interfering with people's conduct is to prevent them from injuring each other. To say that the law ought in no case to proceed beyond this is to lay down a rule which has never been acted upon, and never could be acted upon. Consider drunkenness. Is drunkenness a vice which concerns only the drunkard himself? The fact is that a drunkard injures not only himself but all with whom he has to deal.
Mr. Mill answers this by saying that the drunkard may be punished for the specific injuries he does—for assault, for neglect of duty, for failing to support his family—but not for drunkenness as such. But this seems to me to be a distinction without a difference. To forbid a man to get drunk because drunkenness leads to assault is the same thing as to forbid assault—only it is prevention instead of cure.
"To say that the law ought in no case to proceed beyond this is to lay down a rule which has never been acted upon, and never could be."
The principle that a man's own good is not a sufficient warrant for interference with his conduct has never been carried out, and, I venture to say, never will be. The fact is that the restraints imposed by legislation and social opinion on self-regarding actions have done far more good than harm. We do not allow a man to sell himself into slavery. We compel men to educate their children. We forbid them to commit suicide.
Where Mr. Mill errs is in supposing that liberty is in itself a good thing—that it is desirable for its own sake, apart from its results. Liberty is not a good in itself. It is a means to an end. The end is the development of character, the improvement of mankind, the perfection of human nature. Liberty may conduce to this end, but so may restraint. The question is always: What kind of liberty, and for what persons, will best serve the end?
Coercion and Progress
Compulsion is bad because it constrains; liberty is good because it leaves men free to make themselves and to develop. But is this true? Look at all the great movements by which the history of the human race has been diversified and adorned. Every one of them is the history of a religion, and a religion is always, to a considerable extent, coercive. Christianity conquered the world not by persuasion alone, but by the sword.
The truth is that compulsion is bad only when it is used for bad ends or in a bad manner. Used for good ends and in a proper manner, it is not only legitimate but necessary. The question is not whether compulsion is ever justified, but what kinds of compulsion are justified and for what ends.
"Criminal law is in the nature of a persecution of the grosser forms of vice, and an emphatic assertion of the principle that there are acts which ought not to be done."
Criminal law is in the nature of a persecution of the grosser forms of vice, and an emphatic assertion of the principle that there are acts which ought not to be done. It says to every member of the community: These things you shall not do on pain of punishment. And in saying this, it asserts that there are moral standards which society has a right to enforce.
The fact that men differ in opinion is no argument against compulsion. Men also differ in strength. Shall we therefore abolish all law because men are unequal? The argument proves too much. If difference of opinion were a reason against compulsion, there could be no law at all, for on every subject there is some difference of opinion.
The truth is that power precedes liberty. A nation must first be able to maintain itself against its enemies before it can afford to give liberty to its citizens. A man must first be able to control himself before he can safely be allowed to do as he pleases. And a society must first be able to maintain order before it can safely give liberty to its members.
Law and Morality
The object of the criminal law is to punish crime. But what is crime? Crime is an act which the law forbids and to which it attaches a punishment. But why does the law forbid certain acts? The true answer is that it forbids them because it regards them as mischievous or immoral. Law and morality are not separate domains; they overlap at every point.
It is impossible to lay down any principle by which the province of law can be distinguished from the province of morals. The line between them is a shifting one, varying with the state of society and the temper of the times. What was left to morality in one age becomes the subject of law in another; and what was the subject of law in one age becomes the subject of morality in another.
"A sense of duty to the public is the only thing which can restrain the man who has power from abusing it."
A sense of duty to the public is the only thing which can restrain the man who has power from abusing it. But a sense of duty to the public is a moral sentiment, and moral sentiments are to a large extent the creation of law and custom. Law therefore is not merely a system of rules, but an educator of sentiment. It creates the moral atmosphere in which citizens breathe.
The gradual development of a sound moral sense in the community is perhaps the greatest of all the blessings which a good system of law and government can bestow. But a good system of law cannot do this if it is afraid to exercise coercion. The law which is afraid to punish vice will never succeed in inculcating virtue.
On Equality
The real question is not whether all men are equal—for they obviously are not—but whether political and legal arrangements should proceed on the assumption that they are, or on the opposite assumption that they are unequal. The doctrine of equality has been the most mischievous of all the doctrines of the French Revolution.
"Men are fundamentally unequal, and this inequality will show itself whatever laws may say."
Men are fundamentally unequal, and this inequality will show itself whatever laws may say. The strong will rule the weak, the wise will rule the foolish, in some form or other. The question is only whether they shall do so openly and subject to such restraints as law and opinion can impose, or whether they shall do so in secret and without responsibility.
Equality, in the only sense in which the word has any practical meaning, is the assertion that all men are equally entitled to the protection of the law. This is certainly true, but it is not what enthusiasts for equality mean. They mean much more. They mean that all distinctions founded upon wealth or birth are unjust and ought to be abolished.
But distinctions founded upon wealth are not unjust. Wealth is in most cases the reward of industry and ability. To take it away from those who have earned it and give it to those who have not is to punish virtue and reward vice. And distinctions founded upon birth are not necessarily unjust either. A man may be born with advantages which he did nothing to deserve; but this is true of every advantage whatever.
The attempt to establish equality by law is not only unjust but futile. You may prevent the strong from using their strength openly, but you cannot prevent them from using it secretly. You may prevent the rich from using their wealth openly, but you cannot prevent them from using it indirectly. The result of trying to establish equality is not equality but a new form of inequality—the inequality of those who administer the law over those who are subject to it.
On Fraternity
The sentiment of fraternity is perhaps more dangerous than the doctrines of liberty and equality, because it is less definite, and because it flatters the best side of human nature. We all like to think of ourselves as lovers of mankind and as overflowing with benevolence towards our fellow-creatures. But the love of mankind in general is at best a feeble sentiment.
"Love of mankind in general is at best a feeble and uncertain sentiment, and is often a mere pretence."
But love of mankind in general is at best a feeble and uncertain sentiment, and is often a mere pretence. The love of particular persons is strong, deep, and lasting; the love of mankind is in most cases nothing more than a strong desire to be thought well of, combined with some sympathy with distress when it is present to the senses.
Besides, mankind includes bad men as well as good men, and to love bad men is not a virtue but a vice. The love of mankind, properly understood, must include a hatred of what is bad in mankind, and the practical expression of this hatred must include coercion. If I love mankind, I must hate cruelty, injustice, and vice; and if I hate these things, I must be willing to use force to suppress them.
The doctrine of fraternity, pushed to its logical conclusion, would destroy all distinctions between good and bad, virtuous and vicious. If all men are brothers, then the murderer and the saint are equally my brothers. But this is absurd. The truth is that the sentiment of fraternity, like all sentiments, must be regulated by reason. We ought to love our fellow-men, but we ought to love them wisely.
The Struggle of Life
The ultimate question is this: What is the nature of human life? Is it a gentle progress towards perfection, assisted by liberty and fostered by fraternity? Or is it a struggle, in which the ablest and the strongest survive, and in which coercion, within due limits, is a necessary instrument of progress?
"Life is a campaign, not a romance. We are soldiers, not lovers."
I believe that life is a struggle, and that in this struggle force is not merely useful but indispensable. Life is a campaign, not a romance. We are soldiers, not lovers. The question is not whether there shall be force in the world, but who shall employ it and for what purposes.
The real question is not liberty or no liberty, but liberty for what and restraint of whom. The state is not an enemy to be distrusted, but an instrument to be used—and used, if necessary, with coercion—for the moral improvement of mankind. The criminal law is the organized expression of the moral convictions of the community.
Mr. Mill's doctrine proceeds upon the assumption that human beings are all alike, or at least that their differences are superficial and can be remedied by education. But the truth is that human beings are fundamentally different, and that these differences cannot be removed by any amount of education. Some men are born to rule, and others are born to be ruled. Some men are capable of liberty, and others are not.
The Function of Government
What, then, is the true function of government? It is not merely to protect men from each other, as Mr. Mill supposes. It is to promote virtue and to repress vice. It is to make men better than they would otherwise be. Government is the great educator of the people, and law is its instrument.
The law creates the conditions under which virtue can flourish and vice is suppressed. It does this not merely by punishing vice when it is committed, but by creating a moral atmosphere in which vice is less likely to be committed. The man who lives under good laws is more likely to be virtuous than the man who lives under bad laws or no laws at all.
"Government is the great educator of the people, and law is its instrument."
The state has a right to enforce morality because morality is not merely a private matter. The morality of citizens affects the whole community. A society composed of vicious citizens cannot prosper; a society composed of virtuous citizens will prosper even under unfavorable circumstances. The state therefore has an interest in the virtue of its citizens, and a right to promote that virtue by all legitimate means.
This does not mean that the state should attempt to regulate every aspect of human life. There are many things which are better left to individual judgment. But it does mean that the state has a right to intervene when the moral welfare of the community is at stake. The line between public and private morality is not fixed; it varies with circumstances. But the principle is clear: the state has a right to promote virtue and suppress vice.
Conclusion
I have now examined the three great watchwords of modern politics—Liberty, Equality, Fraternity—and I have tried to show that they are not the simple, self-evident truths which their advocates suppose them to be. Each of them contains an element of truth, but each is liable to be pushed to extremes which make it false and mischievous.
Liberty is good, but liberty for what? Liberty to do good is good; liberty to do evil is bad. The question is always: Liberty for whom, and under what conditions? Equality is good in the sense that all men should be equal before the law; but equality of condition is neither possible nor desirable. Fraternity is good in the sense that we should feel benevolence towards our fellow-men; but universal benevolence, without discrimination between good and bad, is not a virtue but a weakness.
The truth is that these three doctrines, pushed to their logical conclusions, are incompatible with each other and with human nature. Complete liberty would destroy equality, for men are unequal in their abilities. Complete equality would destroy liberty, for it could only be maintained by force. And complete fraternity would destroy both, for it would make no distinction between the worthy and the unworthy.
"The great danger of our time is not that men will think too little, but that they will think in slogans."
The great danger of our time is not that men will think too little, but that they will think in slogans. 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity' is a slogan, and like all slogans it obscures more than it reveals. The remedy is not less thought but more thought—patient, careful, discriminating thought which examines each principle in its proper context and refuses to be carried away by enthusiasm.
I believe that the true principles of politics are these: that government is necessary; that its function is to promote the welfare of the community; that this includes the moral welfare as well as the material; that coercion, properly applied, is a legitimate instrument of government; and that the wise statesman will use whatever means are appropriate to the end in view, without being bound by abstract theories or carried away by popular enthusiasm.
Stephen's work stands as the most powerful Victorian challenge to liberal individualism. His arguments for the moral and educational function of law, and his insistence on the permanence of human inequality and conflict, anticipated many conservative critiques of modern liberalism. John Stuart Mill called it the most formidable attack ever made on his principles.
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