Tocqueville makes some interesting and, to us, rather shocking claims about the freedoms of the press and association, which we take largely for granted and see unequivocally as good. Let’s start with the interesting ones.

 

Tocqueville is surprised at the great number of publications in America: “In America there is scarcely a hamlet which has not its own newspaper (p.213)”. Being ever concerned with public order and the stability of the regime, Tocqueville is inclined to fear that the ease of publication would allow factions and passions to be excited which would endanger the political community, but he observes instead: “…it is adopted as an axiom of political science in that country that the only way to neutralize the effect of public journals is to multiply them indefinitely (p. 213)”. He goes on to note that countries make a mistake when they restrict the number of publications, for this gives any one publication more power, given the larger readership that would result.

 

This is an interesting idea, and could likely be applied to other dangers to society. If there are some dangers and you can’t eliminate them, then multiply them (or divide them) to diffuse the power of any one of them. It would be interesting to analyze various institutions and political phenomenons in Canada to see where diffusion is helping to keep order, or more cynically, allowing the interests of the ruling class to go undisturbed. Are environmental organizations, for example, less successful today because they have multiplied indefinitely? What would this mean for organizations attempting to reform democracy: fewer is better?

 

Another interesting argument Tocqueville makes regards our ability to know what good political policies are. He describes three states of our minds: adopting a position without considering it, losing faith in that position when objections to it arise and, finally, having a more solid opinion when you overcome those initial doubts. Ultimately, however, he says it is very rare for a person to ever become sure enough about her position that she is not subject to some doubt. This leads to two political phenomenon which we can observe in the world today.

 

First, we don’t readily change our political positions: “In countries where all the theories of social science have been contested in their turn, the citizens who have adopted one of them stick to it, not so much because they are assured of its excellence, as because they are not convinced of the superiority of any other (p. 217)”. And secondly, and more perniciously, when we aren’t convinced of the superiority of any position, we tend to default to what is in our self-interest, rather than the public interest: “…when no abstract opinions are looked upon as certain, men cling to the mere propensities and external interests of their position, which are naturally more tangible and more permanent than any opinion in the world (p. 217)”. People, Tocqueville is saying, are not natural political philosophers. And so we default to what seems to be in our immediate interest, and stick with it. What does this mean for democracy? If, in a democracy, the people rule, and the people generally don’t hold their opinions for good reasons, can we have good government?

 

Tocqueville asks the same thing. And this is where the shocking part comes in: “It is not a question of easy solution whether aristocracy or democracy is most fit to govern a country (p. 217)”. Whoa! Can you imagine a political writer today making this statement? Of course, we need to keep in mind what he means by aristocracy. When he was speaking of democracy and aristocracy in the previous chapter, he gave as an example the issue of the Bank of the U.S. Note how he describes the two camps: “…the well-informed classes rallied round the Bank, the common people round the President. But it must not be imagined that the people had formed a rational opinion upon a question which offers so many difficulties to the most experienced statesman (p. 204)”.

 

Democracy is the mob, the common people who don’t have rational opinions. Aristocracy is the wise, those who are well-informed, including experienced statesmen. I am, perhaps, drawing too harsh a delineation. But the gist is correct. To Tocqueville, an aristocratic government isn’t necessarily about the moneyed class or the hereditary ruling class, but about the well-educated class, running society or, at least, putting limits on how much power the commoners can exercise in running society. It just so happens that in order to become well-educated and have access to the kinds of experiences that would make you a good statesperson, you will likely be in the moneyed class. Of course, if the people were wise and the aristocrats foolish, I’m sure Tocqueville would prefer democracy to aristocracy.
This leads to some interesting, if uncomfortable, questions for us. In order to have good government, do we need to find a way to increase the likelihood that the wise can gain power and influence society more than the commoners? If so, how do we protect ourselves from the wise ruling in their own interests, rather than the public’s? We are back to The Republic. Plato’s solution, if you can call it that, is to find something that is more alluring to the wise than ruling, so that they will be reluctant kings, focused not on temporal treasures, but eternal ones.