Friedrich Julius Stahl

From Die gegenwärtigen Parteien in Staat und Kirche [The Contemporary Parties in State and Church], Berlin 1863, pp. 197–207.

Something quite different from the system and orientation of the democratic party is the democratic constitution. The former is a peculiar product of the eighteenth century, the latter can be found in various periods of history; the former is based on doctrine and fundamental general demands, the latter on natural circumstances and specific positive law; the former is fundamentally unlawful, false, and reprehensible, the latter can be lawful, appropriate, and beneficial under certain circumstances. The democratic constitution consists of the sovereignty of a constitutionally organized popular assembly, while the system of the democratic party consists of the sovereignty of the people (the entire mass). In the one, therefore, the given order is always above the people; in the other it is below them. In the one, the will of the people applies by virtue of the constitution and according to the constitution; in the other, the constitution applies by virtue of the will of the people and according to the will of the people. In the one, participation in voting rights is only widely extended; in the other, it is fundamentally unlimited. In the one, institutions are possible that are not derived from the will of the people, e.g., the Christian state religion; in the other, such institutions are inadmissible. In short, that which is the essence of the democratic party, the denial of given authority, the denial of customary binding law, is foreign to the democratic constitution as it existed in ancient and modern times; where it penetrated that constitution – although this never happened with the consciousness and energy of today’s democratic system – it also led to the downfall of the constitution and the decline of the state. In the same way, I also showed you in an earlier lecture that the constitutional monarchical constitution and the system of the constitutional party are thoroughly different from each other. However, the situation with the democratic constitution is not quite the same as with the constitutional monarchical one. While the constitutional monarchical constitution, in its true sense, is the most developed, richest, and in this respect highest form of government, and may well be recognized as the general, regular vocation of state formation in our time, the democratic constitution by contrast is a low form of government, one that is only possible and permissible under exceptional circumstances. For the democratic constitution in itself is poor in its organization, it lacks essential institutions on which the protection of various internal interests, external power, and the dignity of the state itself rest, and, moreover, it usually arises through the destruction of existing elements and historical traditions, often through the destruction of the historical virtues of the nation. That is why in Rome in particular, the complete victory of democracy was also the complete downfall of all Roman virtues.

It is now North America in particular that the Democratic Party points to as the model and confirmation of its system, just as the Constitutional Party does with England. North America also undeniably presents an image of democracy at its best, impressing with the simplicity of its forms and the vigor of its public life. The greatest possible equality, the greatest possible extension of the right to vote, the greatest possible freedom from preventive police measures, the absence of large standing armies, the cheapness of the state, the greater separation of state and church in the Christian faith of the population—these are the features of this remarkable picture. North America thus truly proves the possibility and fruitfulness of democracy. However, it can also be proven with certainty that the democratic constitution of North America is different from the system of our democratic party, that it cannot be transferred to Europe, and that, despite its valuable features, it is not in itself the higher state and the more perfect form of government.

The external and internal conditions necessary for transference or imitation are lacking in Europe.

Already decisive is the fact that the origins of state formation in America are completely different from those in Europe. The states of Europe were founded through migration, those of America through colonization. In Europe, there were naturally occurring and already organized peoples, empires that were, so to speak, moving together, who simply established their permanent homes on new soil; in America, it was previously separated individuals who joined together as trading companies, as in Virginia, or as religious communities, as in New England. In accordance with this origin, the states of Europe have from the beginning been based on monarchical aristocratic authority and supremacy, which is the relationship of all peoples naturally developed by descent, and especially of all warlike peoples, whereas the states of America are based on the equality of voluntarily formed associations, namely the equality of trading companies or the Puritan community. For the supremacy of the government sent by England or of the entrepreneurs in England who had been granted letters of privilege—which, moreover, did not exist at all in New England—was only something external to the settler population, which could be dispensed with without prejudice to its internal organism and disappeared as the latter grew stronger. That is why equality and democracy are self-evident in North America, and a sense of justice did not first have to be established by destroying the old conditions, all sense of justice, and all tradition. Furthermore, in accordance with this origin, the community comes first in the formation of the American states and the state only comes into being through the combination of communities. Conversely, in Europe, the state, the empire, i.e., the organized people, came first, and communities or feudal lordships developed from this. Such a structure still exists today. Even now, in America, the state is more a composition of independent communities, the Union a composition of independent states, whereas in Europe the state is an original, indivisible unity, the communities are only its dependent members, and where a state of states existed, such as the German Empire, the empire is the original, sovereign entity, and the individual states are its subjects, which only developed into independent entities. This is the reason why in America this enormous independence (autonomy) of the communities vis-à-vis the state, which Tocqueville so admires, is possible. This is the reason why the greater separation of state and church in America is less pernicious: public life is based less in the state than in the community. But this also provides powerful support for the democratic constitution, for by its very nature it is suited to the community, while it is unnatural for an empire in the true sense of the word. These two essential conditions of democracy, the equality of statuses and the character of the state as a mere composition of independent communities, are thus already present in the origins of the formation of the American states, while Europe offers the exact opposite. The great migration of peoples resulted in monarchies, while colonization by trading companies and religious refugees resulted in democracies; this is a law of nature.

However, the spirit that prevails in American democracy is quite different from that in Europe. Above all, there is still something of the traditional sense of justice that is now almost a prerogative of the English stock, having been completely destroyed in France by the Revolution and weakened in Germany by a hundred years of guilt on the part of governments and peoples. American freedom, therefore, despite rampant corruption, still, like English freedom, has at its core the independence and security of the individual in his specific rights and sphere, whereas continental revolutionary democracy has at its core mutual rivalry and the desire to dominate one another. Now, countless independent individuals are capable of orderly coexistence; countless individuals with an obsession for rule are not.

Furthermore, American public life is based on Christian revelation and the Christian fear of God, and what a restraint this is against the excesses of the democrats that we have experienced since 1788! Now, it is precisely the democratic party in our country that possesses the least of both that sense of justice and that Christian spirit; on the contrary, combating both is one of its innermost tasks in life. But it must be clear that if it is at all possible and beneficial to free the masses from higher authorities and to entrust them with self-control, this can only be possible and beneficial if they have restraints and barriers within themselves. But where are these to come from without a strict sense of justice and a deep fear of God? That is why democracy and anarchy are considered one and the same in Europe, and that alone would be sufficient reason why their possibility in America is not yet their possibility in Europe.

I do not mean to suggest that the democratic movement in America, which brought about the rupture with England, was pure. It was already influenced by the unbelief and rebellion against authority that characterized that era, under the influence of French philosophy. This is particularly true of the leaders of the movement. Men such as Thomas Paine and Jefferson were already filled with a violent hatred of the monarchy and all higher positions, based on a rejection of religion, which, had it met with equal resistance, might have produced the same results as in France. Jefferson is the truest representative of the secular [profanen] state; he has the unenviable fame of being the author of the Declaration of Independence, the first to proclaim the principle of rebellion in a documented act of the people, and the first to realize the principle of the separation of church and state. In his memoirs published forty years after the fact, Jefferson himself recounts an example of agitation of which our democrats need not be ashamed. He and his political friends, although known to be alien to the Christian faith, if not hostile to it, made use of the revolutionary precedents and forms of the Puritans for their political purposes. Thus, in order to heighten the excitement, they decided to hold a general day of repentance in Virginia (fasting, prayer, humiliation before God) on the day on which the Boston Port Act (which revoked the charter)[1] was to come into effect, so that God might avert the evils of war. But since this proposal would have lacked credibility and the desired effect coming from their mouths, they persuaded an honorable elder[2] to make it in his own name. This succeeded perfectly in exacerbating the bitterness and bringing about a formal break with the English governor. It is remarkable that Jefferson and Adams, the authors of the Declaration of Independence, both died fifty years to the day after its signing. Franklin concealed the mischievous, unbelieving diplomat in simple Quaker garb, and the population of New England was moved in those moments by a spirit which must, without any insult, be called rebellious. But deep down, the population had a better sense than that of their leaders and than the excitement of the moment, and despite this degeneration, the movement still remained grounded in the original natural conditions and original Christian, namely Puritan Christian, traditions, and was therefore not amenable to the fundamental nature of the subsequent European revolution, the fundamental destruction of everything that existed and construction based simply on human reason and human regard.

All these conditions of American democracy which I have clarified here, culminated, in a sense, in New England. From the very beginning, the colony of New England was founded more clearly and decisively than any other on the free association of individuals, as opposed to the natural development of a people. The first colonists, the Pilgrim Fathers, signed a contract on the ship before they landed, whereby they, who until then had no obligations or dependencies on each other, committed themselves to each other to establish a state together and to submit to it, probably the only example in the whole of history in which a state was actually formed by contract. The colony of New England, unlike any other, consisted from the outset of members of completely equal status; it had no protectors in London to whom the charter was granted, had no nobles in its midst, and reinforced and enhanced this equality through religious principles. In New England more decisively than anywhere else, the states were founded through the union of several independent communities. New England was ultimately the bearer of Puritan religious fervor and Puritan moral rigor. If any people were called to a democratic constitution by their origins, their history, and their circumstances, it was the population of New England. But the groundwork for breaking away from the mother country was more prepared there than elsewhere. The Puritan form of Christianity was most compatible with rebellion. The strict democratic character of New England’s constitution and its impetuous hatred of England led it to break away. New England is the prototype and leader of North America.

The democratic constitution of North America is therefore based on entirely different premises and imbued with a spirit that is quite different from that which exists in Europe.

American democracy is therefore alien to everything that is at the heart of European democracy and that makes it reprehensible: the idolization of the people, the fanaticism of brotherhood, the pantheistic destruction of the individual and his rights in the face of the general will, the emancipation from divine and human order, the hatred of faith based on revelation. American democracy therefore does not know the limitless power of the people, which at one moment makes constitutions and laws and the next disregards them again; it does not know the violence that is the basic feature of democracy in Europe. American democracy is just one of the many types of state form; European democracy is the permanent overthrow of the state, indeed the overthrow of the human way of thinking.

Finally, North America enjoys extraordinary external advantages for democracy that are lacking in Europe. The states of North America have an abundance of land and a sparse population; as a result, they have no proletariat and therefore do not face the danger that arises from the proletariat in a representative government based on universal suffrage. In the southern states, slaves take the place of our workers, and the free people are therefore already a kind of aristocracy, whose complete equality among themselves is not difficult to achieve. Furthermore, the states of North America have sole rule in their part of the world; they have no dangerous neighboring states and therefore do not need a standing army based on the European model, nor such a heavy tax burden, nor a strong, concentrated monarchical power.

Summing all this up, it becomes clear why democracy exists and thrives in America but cannot do so in Europe.

Nevertheless, America’s democratic constitution is far from being a model of perfection, or from deserving preference over the political state of the European empires.

The democratic constitution, in itself and apart from all its effects or abuses, is generally the expression of a less rich national life, and this is particularly evident in North America. The content of American life is exhausted on the one hand by religious interest, which there appears almost exclusively in the one-sided form of sects, and on the other hand by material interests, the motive of utility, thus both the highest and lowest interests. In contrast, the entire middle region of human interests until now has not found as much representation there: science, art, poetry, beauty of lifestyle—in this entire sphere, the population of North America has achieved nothing outstanding; these interests are therefore not an energetic driving force, at least not a force and gift in their lives. Yet this is also what constitutes the wealth of a nation, and how England stands out in this respect, even though it shares the same stock as North America. This lesser content of American life corresponds to American democracy with its simple, monotonous, isolating forms; by contrast, the richness of English life corresponds to the rich, creative, ingenious forms of the constitution. Here we find the majesty of the monarchy and the splendor of its surroundings, the proud bulwark of the aristocracy, the power of Parliament, the national church as the expression and embodiment of the common religious life of the nation, the high esteem of the law, the prestige of scientific corporations, the preservation of the entire great history of the nation in its products and traditions in the midst of the present. Can a constitution that is the expression and vehicle of a meager national life be considered more excellent or sublime and exemplary than one that is the expression and vehicle of a rich national life? Yes, the character of moral purity and sublimity and of great statesmanship that America possessed in its War of Independence—Washington—dates back to the time when the monarchy, the church, and the aristocracy of England were still a power in America, and he himself belonged to the aristocracy; and what a difference there is between a Washington and a Jefferson, Patrick [Henry?], Paine, and the like.

But even when viewed in terms of its effects, democracy in America does not fail to exhibit the evils that, as far back as history reaches, can be found in democracy’s wake.

To a certain extent, there is no shortage of mob violence there either. The mob justice of North America, in all its brutality and injustice, is famous and notorious enough. Innocent people, if they are suspected of something, not even criminal acts, but only those considered immoral or dishonorable, or perhaps more correctly, those that are simply unpopular, often fall prey to the gruesome and degrading procedure of the tar and feathering. Youth and gender offer no protection against this. Yes, on this soil of freedom, no one in the southern states may speak out against slavery, or they will be subjected to lynching. Nor is there any lack of tyranny of public opinion there. Those who oppose it find, as the keen observer and liberal-minded Tocqueville records, nowhere to find protection: the people mistreat them, the authorities abandon them, the jury acquits their oppressors. While in our country the king, civil servants, judges, chambers, and public opinion are many powers that mutually mitigate each other, there is only this one power of public opinion, and woe betide anyone who falls out of favor with it. This also leads to the predominance of the press, and thus of the journalistic profession, the rule of which is by no means the most excellent to be found in society.

Finally, there is no lack of a certain kind of looseness, of anarchy within certain limits. There, one enjoys the freedom of not being bothered by protective measures, such as those against bank fraud, against gross overpricing in land purchases, against the recklessness of steamship and railroad companies at whose mercy one is placed when these means of transportation are indispensable. Should the care that the state exercises for its subjects in order to protect them against dangers to their lives, property, and health, if it does not run to excess and suppress the moral and national impulses of popular life, really be such a contemptible feature of our condition?

Through all this, I believe I have sufficiently proven that the democratic constitution of North America cannot be transferred to Europe, nor, even if it could be transferred, would it be a higher and more desirable state of affairs. In any case, I believe I have proven that the democratic constitution of North America is something quite different from the political system of the democratic party in Europe, and that, no matter how excellent the former may be considered, it cannot be taken as validation of the latter.

In the party orientations we have examined so far, both liberalism and democracy, there is something universal that can be found in the development of almost all peoples and therefore in all eras of world history, and yet there is also something very peculiar that belongs only to our era. The common element comes from what is the natural basis of these parties, namely the popular classes and the interests of the popular classes. In the history of all peoples, there is a rich and a poor class, a class with historical distinction and historical privilege and a class with mere wealth without these advantages, which only develops over time in line with the former, the struggle of these classes for political power and, by means of political power, for financial advantages. We therefore find in the Greek republics and in Rome so many of the same manifestations of political struggle, similar motives, similar means, similar results, as since the end of the last century in France and Germany. Thus, one may draw parallels between the Roman parties of aristocracy and democracy and their unfortunate counterparts. However, the ideas that take hold of these natural elements and natural interests, and give the parties their true character, are peculiar to our era and are not found in antiquity, or only in meager traces. The idea of the liberal party—the centrality of the individual and the absolute reverence for individual freedom and individual opinion—and the idea of the democratic party—the apotheosis of the will of the people and brotherhood—are all things that are absent from antiquity.

All this is not merely natural interest, but the pursuit of a spiritual and moral ideal; in its aberration, it is not merely a happenstance transgression of God’s commandments, but a fundamental emancipation from God and His revelation. This whole deeper, ideal side of the revolution and its parties is the flip side of the Christian standpoint; it is the deification of man and emancipation from God; it could not have existed, then, before the advent of Christianity and the Christian peoples.

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[1] It was not the Boston Port Act but the Massachusetts Government Act which revoked the colony’s charter. Both were part of what were known as the Intolerable Acts of 1774.

[2] Robert Carter Nicholas: “To give greater emphasis to our proposition, we agreed to wait the next morning on Mr. Nicholas, whose grave & religious character was more in unison with the tone of our resolution and to solicit him to move it.” Autobiography of Thomas Jefferson 1743-1790 (New York and London: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1914), p. 12.