in its own way for a while, and to make it unsafe for another class of people to advocate another way of doing things. But nothing could be more disastrous than for them to exercise that power. The imperious reason why freedom of speech is desirable is not the hardship brought upon those who differ from the dominant views, but the need of the ideas that every one has to contribute. New and better ideas are always at first in a minority, always unpopular, usually deemed dangerous and immoral by the more conservative majority. It was so with the ideas of Socrates, and with the ideas of a greater than Socrates, the Founder of our own faith. It was so with the early Christians, whose views were so universally thought to be immoral that they were persecuted even by the wise and gentle Marcus Aurelius. In a given case we may feel certain that the opinion or ideal we are repressing is highly undesirable; but we fail to realize that the repressive attitude is even more dangerous. As Lecky has said, "The persecutor can never be certain that he is not persecuting truth rather than error, but he can always be certain that he is suppressing the spirit of truth." Democracy implies not only government by majorities, but freedom of criticism and agitation by minorities, the facilitation of the development of minorities into majorities, the maintenance of opportunities for the hearing of everyone's opinion and for the making of whatever social or political changes the majority can be brought by open agitation to approve. How can we be sure that we have the best possible system unless we listen to what every critic, every agitator, every idealist, has to say? The proper way to combat one-sided and impracticable ideals is to show their unreason, to meet argument by argument, to put no artificial barriers in the way of free discussion, but to trust to common-sense (reinforced by the inertia of conservatism) to put the brakes upon unreasonable proposals. Mr. Justice Holmes has stated the true American attitude in memorable words: "When men have realized that time has upset many fighting faiths, they may come to believe even more than they believe the very foundations of their own conduct that the ultimate good desired is better reached by free trade in ideals-that the best test of truth is the power of the thought to get itself accepted in the competition of the market. . . . That at any rate is the theory of our Constitution." The seriousness of the repressive tendency lies not merely in the shutting of the mouths of the actual radicals, but in the inevitable lumping together by the repressionists of all liberals and reformers with the radicals, and thus the checking of all movements for genuine political or social progress. It may well be argued that the policy of the American Government has suffered greatly since the signing of the Armistice through the lack of enlightened public criticism, the result of the censorship and repression of discussion unfavorable to the policies of the administration. At any rate, however exceptional may be the case in wartime, an era of peace should welcome the development of individual thought, however contrary to accepted doctrines it may be. We should say, as Voltaire said to Helvetius, "I wholly disapprove of what you say and will defend to the death your right to say it." Or as Elihu Root lately put it, “Men in a self-governing democracy must have a love of liberty that means not merely one's own liberty but others' liberty." Radicalism is not one single, united, sinister, redhanded thing. Radicalism is a name for a great number of very diverse theories, largely incompatible with one another, and mostly actuated by idealistic and humanitarian motives. Selfish and anti-social motives are probably no commoner among radicals than among conservatives. What we should do, then, is to encourage discussion of radical ideas to the utmost, develop our Open Forum movements, our Neighborhood Centers, our political clubs, air these new ideas, develop newer ideas, confront them in reasoned debate with older ideas. The fear that America will be destroyed by such a procedure is a childish fear. We are not so near the brink of collapse that we need to fear what anyone has to say. On the contrary, if the method of repression grows upon us and becomes a settled policy, much that is best in American life will already have disappeared. SUGGESTED READINGS J. B. Bury, History of Freedom of Thought. Publications of the American Sociological Society, vol. 9. Roscoe Pound, in Harvard Law Review, vol. 28, pp. 445, 453. American Civil Liberties Union; Report upon the Illegal Practices of the United States Department of Justice (May, 1920). Publications of the Free Speech League, 120 Lexington Avenue, New York, N. Y. E. Ritchie, in International Journal of Ethics, vol. 14, p. 161.. CHAPTER VII LAW AND ORDER THERE is one sort of person, and only one, that the machinery of repression should be turned against— the person who breaks or urges the breaking of the laws of the land. Detest as we may a man's opinions, we most give them free room unless they call for the violation of laws, or the use of violence to subvert the existing order. On the other hand, however we may sympathize with the ideals of some revolutionist, and much as we may desire with him to see some obnoxious law repealed, we cannot tolerate the proposal to disobey it while it remains upon the statutebooks. The lawabiding spirit is the prime essential for the success of a democracy. It is true that we all sympathize with the great revolutionists of the past-with Gambetta and Kossuth and Garibaldi, with the French and Russian revolutionists, and our own forefathers, who refused to obey the laws of their sovereign and by violence achieved a new political order. It is true that, as Gladstone said, "If the people of this country had obeyed the precept to preserve order and eschew violence, the liberties of this country would never have been obtained." But these resorts to violent means were justified because no peaceful channel was open for reform, and because the benefit sought by the arbitrament of war was for a whole people, not for a section or class. In a democracy like ours any alter ation in the political or industrial order is possible; it is merely a question of winning the approval of a majority of the people. And no change ought to be made without the verdict of that approval. The South attempted a sectional schism, and was decisively defeated, as any section or class will be that seeks to free itself from the common law of the land. The issue of that war decided that, as Lincoln put it, "among free men there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet." The evil of violence lies not merely in the specific bloodshed and economic destruction effected, but in the precedent set. Human nature is all too prone to resort to blows instead of argument; and if this group or that were to win their point by lawbreaking, or some illegal coup d'état, other groups would be powerfully encouraged to yield to their impatience with the slow growth of public opinion and try the same short cut to the result they desire. There is no case in the whole field of morals where it is more important that everyone shall keep to a code, in spite of whatever immediate sacrifice. The code of lawabidingness must have the loyalty of every citizen, or we shall soon find ourselves drifting into chaos. Moreover, even a successful revolution achieved by a class or group within the nation would not be stable; no change in the mechanism of politics or industry would be permanent that did not rest upon the sincere conviction of the majority of the people. And when that majority is secured, violence is no longer necessary to secure the change. Violence, on the contrary, stimulates opposition, increases estrangements, encourages the use of counter-violence, makes it harder for classes to work together and understand one another. Yet work together we must, |