Such being the reasons which make it imperative that human beings should be free to form opinions, and to express their opinions without reserve; and such the baneful consequences to the intellectual, and through that to the moral nature of man, unless this liberty is either conceded, or asserted in spite of prohibition; let us next examine whether the same reasons do not require that men should be free to act upon their opinions—to carry these out in their lives, without hindrance, either physical or moral, from their fellow-men, so long as it is at their own risk and peril. This last proviso is of course indispensable. No one pretends that actions should be as free as opinions. On the contrary, even opinions lose their immunity, when the circumstances in which they are expressed are such as to constitute their expression a positive instigation to some mischievous act. An opinion that corn-dealers are starvers of the poor, or that private property is robbery, ought to be unmolested when simply circulated through the press, but may justly incur punishment when delivered orally to an excited mob assembled before the house of a corn-dealer, or when handed about among the same mob in the form of a placard. Acts, of whatever kind, which, without justifiable cause, do harm to others, may be, and in the more important cases absolutely require to be, controlled by the unfavourable sentiments, and, when needful, by the active interference of mankind. The liberty of the individual must be thus far limited; he must not make himself a nuisance to other people. But if he refrains from molesting others in what concerns them, and merely acts according to his own inclination and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which show that opinion should be free, prove also that he should be allowed, without molestation, to carry his opinions into practice at his own cost. That mankind are not infallible; that their truths, for the most part, are only half-truths; that unity of opinion, unless resulting from the fullest and freest comparison of opposite opinions, is not desirable, and diversity not an evil, but a good, until mankind are much more capable than at present of recognising all sides of the truth, are principles applicable to men's modes of action, not less than to their opinions. As it is useful that while mankind are imperfect there should be different opinions, so is it that there should be different experiments of living; that free scope should be given to varieties of character, short of injury to others; and that the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically, when any one thinks fit to try them. It is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern others, individuality should assert itself. Where, not the person's own character, but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social progress.
Since these reasons make it essential that people be free to form and express opinions without holding back, and since denying that freedom harms the intellect and the moral character, we should next ask whether the same reasons require freedom to act on those opinions. People should be free to carry their opinions into their lives without physical or moral interference from others, as long as they do so at their own risk. This condition is essential. No one claims that actions should be as free as opinions. Even opinions lose protection when the circumstances make them a direct encouragement to do harm. An opinion that "corn-dealers are starvers of the poor," or that "private property is robbery," should go unpunished when printed in the press. The same opinion may deserve punishment when shouted to an excited mob outside a corn-dealer's house, or when passed among that mob on a placard. Acts that harm others without good reason can and sometimes must be controlled by public disapproval and, when needed, by active intervention. Individual liberty must be limited this far: a person must not make themselves a nuisance to others. But if a person does not bother others about what concerns them, and only acts on their own judgment in matters that concern themselves, then the reasons that protect free opinion also support allowing them to act on those opinions at their own cost. People are fallible. Most of what they call truth is only partial. Unity of opinion that does not come from a full and free comparison of opposing views is not desirable. Diversity is not an evil but a good, until people become much better at seeing all sides of the truth. These ideas apply to actions as much as to opinions. While people remain imperfect, we need different opinions and different experiments in living. Society should allow a wide range of character types, so long as they do not harm others, and let the value of different ways of life be tested in practice when anyone chooses to try them. In short, where matters do not primarily affect others, individuality should be allowed to assert itself. When people follow other people's traditions or customs instead of their own character, one of the main ingredients of human happiness is missing, and the chief source of individual and social progress is lost.
In maintaining this principle, the greatest difficulty to be encountered does not lie in the appreciation of means towards an acknowledged end, but in the indifference of persons in general to the end itself. If it were felt that the free development of individuality is one of the leading essentials of well-being; that it is not only a co-ordinate element with all that is designated by the terms civilisation, instruction, education, culture, but is itself a necessary part and condition of all those things; there would be no danger that liberty should be under-valued, and the adjustment of the boundaries between it and social control would present no extraordinary difficulty. But the evil is, that individual spontaneity is hardly recognised by the common modes of thinking, as having any intrinsic worth, or deserving any regard on its own account. The majority, being satisfied with the ways of mankind as they now are (for it is they who make them what they are), cannot comprehend why those ways should not be good enough for everybody; and what is more, spontaneity forms no part of the ideal of the majority of moral and social reformers, but is rather looked on with jealousy, as a troublesome and perhaps rebellious obstruction to the general acceptance of what these reformers, in their own judgment, think would be best for mankind. Few persons, out of Germany, even comprehend the meaning of the doctrine which Wilhelm von Humboldt, so eminent both as a savant and as a politician, made the text of a treatise—that "the end of man, or that which is prescribed by the eternal or immutable dictates of reason, and not suggested by vague and transient desires, is the highest and most harmonious development of his powers to a complete and consistent whole;" that, therefore, the object "towards which every human being must ceaselessly direct his efforts, and on which especially those who design to influence their fellow-men must ever keep their eyes, is the individuality of power and development;" that for this there are two requisites, "freedom, and a variety of situations;" and that from the union of these arise "individual vigour and manifold diversity," which combine themselves in "originality."
When defending this principle, the main difficulty is not choosing means for an agreed goal. It is that most people are indifferent to the goal itself. If people recognized that the free development of individuality is essential to well-being, there would be less danger of undervaluing liberty. They would also find it easier to draw the line between freedom and social control. The truth is that individual spontaneity is hardly seen by common thought as having any intrinsic worth. The majority, content with the ways things are (for they make them what they are), cannot imagine why those ways would not suit everyone. What is more, spontaneity is not part of the ideal of most moral and social reformers. They often view it with suspicion, as a troublesome or even rebellious obstacle to the public acceptance of what those reformers believe is best for humanity. Few people outside Germany fully grasp the doctrine Wilhelm von Humboldt made the center of a treatise. Humboldt was eminent both as a savant and as a politician. He wrote that "the end of man, or that which is prescribed by the eternal or immutable dictates of reason, and not suggested by vague and transient desires, is the highest and most harmonious development of his powers to a complete and consistent whole." He argued that the object "towards which every human being must ceaselessly direct his efforts, and on which especially those who design to influence their fellow-men must ever keep their eyes, is the individuality of power and development." For this there are two requisites, "freedom, and a variety of situations." From their union arise "individual vigour and manifold diversity," which together form "originality."
The Sphere and Duties of Government, from the German of Baron Wilhelm von Humboldt, pages 11-13.
Little, however, as people are accustomed to a doctrine like that of Von Humboldt, and surprising as it may be to them to find so high a value attached to individuality, the question, one must nevertheless think, can only be one of degree. No one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do absolutely nothing but copy one another. No one would assert that people ought not to put into their mode of life, and into the conduct of their concerns, any impress whatever of their own judgment, or of their own individual character. On the other hand, it would be absurd to pretend that people ought to live as if nothing whatever had been known in the world before they came into it; as if experience had as yet done nothing towards showing that one mode of existence, or of conduct, is preferable to another. Nobody denies that people should be so taught and trained in youth, as to know and benefit by the ascertained results of human experience. But it is the privilege and proper condition of a human being, arrived at the maturity of his faculties, to use and interpret experience in his own way. It is for him to find out what part of recorded experience is properly applicable to his own circumstances and character. The traditions and customs of other people are, to a certain extent, evidence of what their experience has taught them; presumptive evidence, and as such, have a claim to his deference: but, in the first place, their experience may be too narrow; or they may not have interpreted it rightly. Secondly, their interpretation of experience may be correct, but unsuitable to him. Customs are made for customary circumstances, and customary characters: and his circumstances or his character may be uncustomary. Thirdly, though the customs be both good as customs, and suitable to him, yet to conform to custom, merely as custom, does not educate or develop in him any of the qualities which are the distinctive endowment of a human being. The human faculties of perception, judgment, discriminative feeling, mental activity, and even moral preference, are exercised only in making a choice. He who does anything because it is the custom, makes no choice. He gains no practice either in discerning or in desiring what is best. The mental and moral, like the muscular powers, are improved only by being used. The faculties are called into no exercise by doing a thing merely because others do it, no more than by believing a thing only because others believe it. If the grounds of an opinion are not conclusive to the person's own reason, his reason cannot be strengthened, but is likely to be weakened by his adopting it: and if the inducements to an act are not such as are consentaneous to his own feelings and character (where affection, or the rights of others, are not concerned), it is so much done towards rendering his feelings and character inert and torpid, instead of active and energetic.
Even though people are not used to a doctrine like Von Humboldt's, and may be surprised that individuality is so highly valued, the issue is really one of degree. No one thinks excellence means everyone should simply copy one another. No one would say people should never put their own judgment or character into their lives and actions. At the same time, it would be absurd to act as if nothing was known before we were born. Experience already shows that some ways of living are better than others. No one denies that young people should be taught to learn from the established results of human experience. But once a person reaches maturity, it is their right and proper condition to use and interpret experience in their own way. They must decide which parts of recorded experience apply to their own situation and character. Other people's traditions and customs are, to a certain extent, evidence of what their experience has taught them. This gives those customs presumptive weight and a claim to respect. First, their experience may be too narrow, or they may have misread it. Second, their interpretation might be correct but not fit this person. Customs suit customary situations and customary characters, and his situation or character may be uncommon. Third, even if the customs are good and do suit him, conforming to custom merely as custom does not develop the qualities that uniquely belong to a human being. The faculties of perception, judgment, discriminating feeling, mental activity, and even moral taste are exercised only when a person makes a choice. Someone who does something because it is the custom makes no choice. They get no practice in judging what is best or in wanting it. Like muscles, mental and moral powers improve only through use. Doing something just because others do it does not exercise these faculties, any more than believing something only because others believe it does. If the reasons for an opinion do not convince a person's own reason, adopting that opinion will not strengthen their reason. It will likely weaken it. And if the motives for an action do not align with a person's own feelings and character, and if no affection or others' rights are involved, acting for those motives tends to make their feelings and character dull and inactive instead of lively and strong.
He who lets the world, or his own portion of it, choose his plan of life for him, has no need of any other faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. He who chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties. He must use observation to see, reasoning and judgment to foresee, activity to gather materials for decision, discrimination to decide, and when he has decided, firmness and self-control to hold to his deliberate decision. And these qualities he requires and exercises exactly in proportion as the part of his conduct which he determines according to his own judgment and feelings is a large one. It is possible that he might be guided in some good path, and kept out of harm's way, without any of these things. But what will be his comparative worth as a human being? It really is of importance, not only what men do, but also what manner of men they are that do it. Among the works of man, which human life is rightly employed in perfecting and beautifying, the first in importance surely is man himself. Supposing it were possible to get houses built, corn grown, battles fought, causes tried, and even churches erected and prayers said, by machinery—by automatons in human form—it would be a considerable loss to exchange for these automatons even the men and women who at present inhabit the more civilised parts of the world, and who assuredly are but starved specimens of what nature can and will produce. Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces which make it a living thing.
If a person lets the world, or their part of it, choose their plan of life for them, they need no faculty beyond the ape-like one of imitation. A person who chooses their plan for themselves uses all their faculties. They must observe to notice things, use reasoning and judgment to foresee consequences, and be active to gather facts. They need discrimination to decide. Once they have decided, they need firmness and self-control to stick to that decision. They require and exercise these qualities in proportion to how much of their conduct they determine by their own judgment and feelings. It is possible someone could be guided along a good path and kept out of harm's way without these things. But what would their worth be as a human being? It matters not only what people do, but also what kind of people they are who do it. Of all the works human life should perfect and beautify, the first in importance is surely the human being. Suppose houses could be built, grain grown, battles fought, trials held, and even churches built and prayers said by machines. Suppose these tasks were done by human-shaped automatons. It would be a serious loss to replace even the men and women now living in the more civilized parts of the world with such machines. Those people are already starved examples of what nature can and will produce. Human nature is not a machine built to a model and set to do a fixed job. It is like a tree. It needs to grow and develop on all sides, following the inward forces that make it alive.
It will probably be conceded that it is desirable people should exercise their understandings, and that an intelligent following of custom, or even occasionally an intelligent deviation from custom, is better than a blind and simply mechanical adhesion to it. To a certain extent it is admitted, that our understanding should be our own: but there is not the same willingness to admit that our desires and impulses should be our own likewise; or that to possess impulses of our own, and of any strength, is anything but a peril and a snare. Yet desires and impulses are as much a part of a perfect human being, as beliefs and restraints: and strong impulses are only perilous when not properly balanced; when one set of aims and inclinations is developed into strength, while others, which ought to co-exist with them, remain weak and inactive. It is not because men's desires are strong that they act ill; it is because their consciences are weak. There is no natural connection between strong impulses and a weak conscience. The natural connection is the other way. To say that one person's desires and feelings are stronger and more various than those of another, is merely to say that he has more of the raw material of human nature, and is therefore capable, perhaps of more evil, but certainly of more good. Strong impulses are but another name for energy. Energy may be turned to bad uses; but more good may always be made of an energetic nature, than of an indolent and impassive one. Those who have most natural feeling, are always those whose cultivated feelings may be made the strongest. The same strong susceptibilities which make the personal impulses vivid and powerful, are also the source from whence are generated the most passionate love of virtue, and the sternest self-control. It is through the cultivation of these, that society both does its duty and protects its interests: not by rejecting the stuff of which heroes are made, because it knows not how to make them. A person whose desires and impulses are his own—are the expression of his own nature, as it has been developed and modified by his own culture—is said to have a character. One whose desires and impulses are not his own, has no character, no more than a steam-engine has a character. If, in addition to being his own, his impulses are strong, and are under the government of a strong will, he has an energetic character. Whoever thinks that individuality of desires and impulses should not be encouraged to unfold itself, must maintain that society has no need of strong natures—is not the better for containing many persons who have much character—and that a high general average of energy is not desirable.
Most people would agree it's good to use our minds. Following custom intelligently, or sometimes wisely breaking from it, is better than blind, mechanical obedience. We accept, to some degree, that our understanding should be our own. But we are less willing to accept the same for our desires and impulses. Many treat having strong personal impulses as a danger or a trap. Desires and impulses are as much part of a complete person as beliefs and restraints. Strong impulses are only dangerous when they are not balanced. That happens when one set of aims grows strong while other necessary aims remain weak and inactive. People do wrong not because their desires are strong, but because their consciences are weak. There is no natural link between powerful impulses and a weak conscience. The natural link runs the other way. If one person's desires and feelings are stronger and more varied than another's, that just means they have more raw human material. They may be capable of more harm, but certainly of more good. Strong impulses are simply energy. Energy can be used badly, but an energetic person can do more good than a lazy, indifferent one. Those with the most natural feeling are the ones whose feelings can be developed the most. The sensitivities that make personal impulses vivid also produce a passionate love of virtue and firm self-control. By cultivating these qualities, society fulfills its duty and protects its interests. It should not reject the raw material of heroes just because it does not know how to make them. A person whose desires and impulses are genuinely their own, shaped by their nature and culture, is said to have character. Someone whose desires and impulses are not their own has no character, any more than a steam engine does. If those impulses are not only their own but also strong and guided by a strong will, they have an energetic character. Anyone who believes we should not encourage individuality of desires and impulses must also believe society does not need strong personalities. They would have to think society is not better for having many people with character and that a high overall level of energy is undesirable.
In some early states of society, these forces might be, and were, too much ahead of the power which society then possessed of disciplining and controlling them. There has been a time when the element of spontaneity and individuality was in excess, and the social principle had a hard struggle with it. The difficulty then was, to induce men of strong bodies or minds to pay obedience to any rules which required them to control their impulses. To overcome this difficulty, law and discipline, like the Popes struggling against the Emperors, asserted a power over the whole man, claiming to control all his life in order to control his character—which society had not found any other sufficient means of binding. But society has now fairly got the better of individuality; and the danger which threatens human nature is not the excess, but the deficiency, of personal impulses and preferences. Things are vastly changed, since the passions of those who were strong by station or by personal endowment were in a state of habitual rebellion against laws and ordinances, and required to be rigorously chained up to enable the persons within their reach to enjoy any particle of security. In our times, from the highest class of society down to the lowest, every one lives as under the eye of a hostile and dreaded censorship. Not only in what concerns others, but in what concerns only themselves, the individual, or the family, do not ask themselves—what do I prefer? or, what would suit my character and disposition? or, what would allow the best and highest in me to have fair-play, and enable it to grow and thrive? They ask themselves, what is suitable to my position? what is usually done by persons of my station and pecuniary circumstances? or (worse still) what is usually done by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? I do not mean that they choose what is customary, in preference to what suits their own inclination. It does not occur to them to have any inclination, except for what is customary. Thus the mind itself is bowed to the yoke: even in what people do for pleasure, conformity is the first thing thought of; they live in crowds; they exercise choice only among things commonly done: peculiarity of taste, eccentricity of conduct, are shunned equally with crimes: until by dint of not following their own nature, they have no nature to follow: their human capacities are withered and starved: they become incapable of any strong wishes or native pleasures, and are generally without either opinions or feelings of home growth, or properly their own. Now is this, or is it not, the desirable condition of human nature?
In early stages of society, these forces were sometimes far stronger than society’s power to control them. There was a time when spontaneity and individuality were excessive. Society struggled to deal with them. The problem was getting strong people, in body or mind, to obey rules that forced them to control their impulses. To meet this problem, law and discipline, like the Popes struggling against the Emperors, claimed power over the whole person. They argued they must control every part of life to shape character. Society had found no other effective way to bind people. But society has largely overcome unchecked individuality. Now the danger is not too much individuality, but too little. Personal impulses and preferences are deficient. Things have changed a great deal. In the past, the passions of the powerful often rebelled against laws and needed to be tightly controlled so others could have any security. Today, from the highest classes to the lowest, everyone lives as if watched by a hostile censorship. People do not even ask themselves what they prefer. They do not ask what suits their character or disposition. They do not ask what would let the best in them grow and thrive. Instead they ask, what is suitable to my position? What do people of my class and income usually do? Worse still, what do those above me usually do? I do not mean they prefer custom over inclination. It does not occur to them to have any inclination except for what is customary. So the mind itself is bowed to the yoke. Even for pleasure, conformity is the first consideration. People live in crowds and choose only what others commonly do. Peculiar tastes and eccentric behavior are shunned like crimes. By refusing to follow their own nature, they end up having no nature to follow. Their capacities wither and starve. They become unable to have strong desires or natural pleasures. They usually lack opinions or feelings that are home-grown or truly their own. Now is this, or is it not, the desirable condition of human nature?
It is so, on the Calvinistic theory. According to that, the one great offence of man is Self-will. All the good of which humanity is capable, is comprised in Obedience. You have no choice; thus you must do, and no otherwise: "whatever is not a duty, is a sin." Human nature being radically corrupt, there is no redemption for any one until human nature is killed within him. To one holding this theory of life, crushing out any of the human faculties, capacities, and susceptibilities, is no evil: man needs no capacity, but that of surrendering himself to the will of God: and if he uses any of his faculties for any other purpose but to do that supposed will more effectually, he is better without them. That is the theory of Calvinism; and it is held, in a mitigated form, by many who do not consider themselves Calvinists; the mitigation consisting in giving a less ascetic interpretation to the alleged will of God; asserting it to be his will that mankind should gratify some of their inclinations; of course not in the manner they themselves prefer, but in the way of obedience, that is, in a way prescribed to them by authority; and, therefore, by the necessary conditions of the case, the same for all.
That is what the Calvinistic theory says. On that view, the one great offense of a person is self-will. All the good humanity is capable of is obedience. You have no choice. You must do as you are told and no other way. "whatever is not a duty, is a sin." Human nature is held to be deeply corrupt. No one can be redeemed until their human nature is killed within them. Someone who believes this sees no harm in crushing human faculties, capacities, or feelings. A person needs only the capacity to surrender to the will of God. If they use their abilities for anything other than carrying out that supposed will more effectively, they are better off without those abilities. That is the theory of Calvinism. Many who would not call themselves Calvinists hold a softened version of it. The softening makes God's will seem less ascetic. It says God wants people to satisfy some of their desires, not in the way they prefer, but by obeying authority. By that logic, the prescribed way is the same for everyone.
In some such insidious form there is at present a strong tendency to this narrow theory of life, and to the pinched and hidebound type of human character which it patronises. Many persons, no doubt, sincerely think that human beings thus cramped and dwarfed, are as their Maker designed them to be; just as many have thought that trees are a much finer thing when clipped into pollards, or cut out into figures of animals, than as nature made them. But if it be any part of religion to believe that man was made by a good being, it is more consistent with that faith to believe, that this Being gave all human faculties that they might be cultivated and unfolded, not rooted out and consumed, and that he takes delight in every nearer approach made by his creatures to the ideal conception embodied in them, every increase in any of their capabilities of comprehension, of action, or of enjoyment. There is a different type of human excellence from the Calvinistic; a conception of humanity as having its nature bestowed on it for other purposes than merely to be abnegated. "Pagan self-assertion" is one of the elements of human worth, as well as "Christian self-denial." There is a Greek ideal of self-development, which the Platonic and Christian ideal of self-government blends with, but does not supersede. It may be better to be a John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is better to be a Pericles than either; nor would a Pericles, if we had one in these days, be without anything good which belonged to John Knox.
In some subtle way there is now a strong move toward this narrow theory of life and the tight, rigid type of character it favors. Many people truly think humans should be cramped and stunted like that. They believe this is how their Maker made them. Just as others have thought trees look better when clipped into pollards or trimmed into animal shapes than when left to grow naturally. If religion means believing that man was made by a good Being, then it makes more sense to believe this Being gave us all our faculties to be cultivated and unfolded, not to be rooted out or wasted. He delights in every step his creatures take toward the ideal within them. He delights in any increase in their powers of understanding, action, or enjoyment. There is a different idea of human excellence from the Calvinistic one. It views human nature as given for purposes other than mere self-denial. "Pagan self-assertion" is part of human worth, as well as "Christian self-denial." The Greek ideal of self-development exists, and the Platonic and Christian ideal of self-government blends with it without replacing it. It may be better to be a John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is better to be a Pericles than either. If we had a Pericles today, he would not lack any of the good qualities that belonged to John Knox.
Sterling's Essays.
It is not by wearing down into uniformity all that is individual in themselves, but by cultivating it and calling it forth, within the limits imposed by the rights and interests of others, that human beings become a noble and beautiful object of contemplation; and as the works partake the character of those who do them, by the same process human life also becomes rich, diversified, and animating, furnishing more abundant aliment to high thoughts and elevating feelings, and strengthening the tie which binds every individual to the race, by making the race infinitely better worth belonging to. In proportion to the development of his individuality, each person becomes more valuable to himself, and is therefore capable of being more valuable to others. There is a greater fulness of life about his own existence, and when there is more life in the units there is more in the mass which is composed of them. As much compression as is necessary to prevent the stronger specimens of human nature from encroaching on the rights of others, cannot be dispensed with; but for this there is ample compensation even in the point of view of human development. The means of development which the individual loses by being prevented from gratifying his inclinations to the injury of others, are chiefly obtained at the expense of the development of other people. And even to himself there is a full equivalent in the better development of the social part of his nature, rendered possible by the restraint put upon the selfish part. To be held to rigid rules of justice for the sake of others, develops the feelings and capacities which have the good of others for their object. But to be restrained in things not affecting their good, by their mere displeasure, develops nothing valuable, except such force of character as may unfold itself in resisting the restraint. If acquiesced in, it dulls and blunts the whole nature. To give any fair-play to the nature of each, it is essential that different persons should be allowed to lead different lives. In proportion as this latitude has been exercised in any age, has that age been noteworthy to posterity. Even despotism does not produce its worst effects, so long as Individuality exists under it; and whatever crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever name it may be called, and whether it professes to be enforcing the will of God or the injunctions of men.
Human beings do not become noble and beautiful by forcing everyone into the same mold. They become so by encouraging and drawing out individuality, so long as it does not violate others’ rights and interests. As people’s works reflect their character, this process makes life richer, more varied, and more lively. It gives more fuel to noble thoughts and uplifting feelings. It also strengthens the bond that connects each person to humanity by making the human race far more worth belonging to. The more someone develops their individuality, the more valuable they are to themselves. That also lets them be more valuable to others. Their life feels fuller. When individuals are more alive, the whole society is more alive. We must set limits to stop stronger personalities from trampling others’ rights. Even so, these limits are compensated for in terms of human development. When a person is prevented from following desires that would harm others, the development they lose would mostly come at the cost of others’ development. Even for that person, there is an equal gain. Restraining selfish impulses allows their social side to develop more fully. Being required to follow strict rules of justice for the sake of others builds feelings and abilities aimed at others’ good. But being restrained in matters that do not affect others’ wellbeing, simply because others dislike them, produces nothing valuable. The only possible benefit is the strength of character that might come from resisting such restraint. If people accept these restraints, it dulls and weakens their whole nature. To give everyone a fair chance to develop, different people must be allowed to live different lives. The more an era allows this kind of freedom, the more notable it seems to later generations. Even under despotism, the worst effects do not follow so long as individuality survives. Anything that crushes individuality is true despotism, no matter what name it takes, whether it claims to enforce the will of God or the commands of people.
Having said that Individuality is the same thing with development, and that it is only the cultivation of individuality which produces, or can produce, well-developed human beings, I might here close the argument: for what more or better can be said of any condition of human affairs, than that it brings human beings themselves nearer to the best thing they can be? or what worse can be said of any obstruction to good, than that it prevents this? Doubtless, however, these considerations will not suffice to convince those who most need convincing; and it is necessary further to show, that these developed human beings are of some use to the undeveloped—to point out to those who do not desire liberty, and would not avail themselves of it, that they may be in some intelligible manner rewarded for allowing other people to make use of it without hindrance.
I have said that individuality is the same as development. Only cultivating individuality can produce well-developed human beings. I could stop there. What better praise can any condition receive than bringing people nearer to the best they can be? And what worse can be said of any obstacle than that it prevents this? Of course, these points will not convince those who most need convincing. I must also show that developed people are useful to the undeveloped. I need to make clear to those who do not want liberty and would not use it themselves. They can still benefit in a straightforward way by allowing others to use it without hindrance.
In the first place, then, I would suggest that they might possibly learn something from them. It will not be denied by anybody, that originality is a valuable element in human affairs. There is always need of persons not only to discover new truths, and point out when what were once truths are true no longer, but also to commence new practices, and set the example of more enlightened conduct, and better taste and sense in human life. This cannot well be gainsaid by anybody who does not believe that the world has already attained perfection in all its ways and practices. It is true that this benefit is not capable of being rendered by everybody alike: there are but few persons, in comparison with the whole of mankind, whose experiments, if adopted by others, would be likely to be any improvement on established practice. But these few are the salt of the earth; without them, human life would become a stagnant pool. Not only is it they who introduce good things which did not before exist; it is they who keep the life in those which already existed. If there were nothing new to be done, would human intellect cease to be necessary? Would it be a reason why those who do the old things should forget why they are done, and do them like cattle, not like human beings? There is only too great a tendency in the best beliefs and practices to degenerate into the mechanical; and unless there were a succession of persons whose ever-recurring originality prevents the grounds of those beliefs and practices from becoming merely traditional, such dead matter would not resist the smallest shock from anything really alive, and there would be no reason why civilisation should not die out, as in the Byzantine Empire. Persons of genius, it is true, are, and are always likely to be, a small minority; but in order to have them, it is necessary to preserve the soil in which they grow. Genius can only breathe freely in an atmosphere of freedom. Persons of genius are, ex vi termini, more individual than any other people—less capable, consequently, of fitting themselves, without hurtful compression, into any of the small number of moulds which society provides in order to save its members the trouble of forming their own character. If from timidity they consent to be forced into one of these moulds, and to let all that part of themselves which cannot expand under the pressure remain unexpanded, society will be little the better for their genius. If they are of a strong character, and break their fetters, they become a mark for the society which has not succeeded in reducing them to commonplace, to point at with solemn warning as "wild," "erratic," and the like; much as if one should complain of the Niagara river for not flowing smoothly between its banks like a Dutch canal.
First, I suggest they could learn from them. No one can deny that originality is valuable in human affairs. We always need people who discover new truths and who point out when old truths no longer apply. We also need those who start new practices and who set examples of more enlightened conduct, better taste, and better judgment in life. Only someone who thinks the world is already perfect in every way could disagree. Not everyone can provide this benefit. Few people, compared with all humanity, run experiments that others could adopt to improve established practice. These few are the salt of the earth. Without them, human life would become a stagnant pool. They not only introduce good things that did not exist before. They also keep life in what already exists. If there were nothing new to be done, would human intellect stop being necessary? Would that justify people doing old tasks like cattle, without remembering why they do them? Even the best beliefs and practices tend to become mechanical. Unless there is a stream of people whose recurring originality keeps those beliefs alive, they will become mere tradition. Such dead matter would not withstand the slightest shock from anything truly living. Then civilisation could die out, as happened in the Byzantine Empire. Geniuses are, and will probably remain, a small minority. To have them, we must preserve the soil where they grow. Genius can only breathe freely in an atmosphere of freedom. Persons of genius are, ex vi termini, more individual than other people. They are less able to fit into the few moulds society offers without being harmed. Those moulds exist to save people the trouble of forming their own character. If, out of timidity, they let themselves be forced into one of these moulds and let parts of themselves remain unexpanded, society gains little from their genius. If they have strong character and break free, the society that failed to tame them makes them a warning. It points at them and calls them "wild," "erratic," and the like. It is like complaining that the Niagara river does not flow smoothly between its banks like a Dutch canal.
I insist thus emphatically on the importance of genius, and the necessity of allowing it to unfold itself freely both in thought and in practice, being well aware that no one will deny the position in theory, but knowing also that almost every one, in reality, is totally indifferent to it. People think genius a fine thing if it enables a man to write an exciting poem, or paint a picture. But in its true sense, that of originality in thought and action, though no one says that it is not a thing to be admired, nearly all, at heart, think that they can do very well without it. Unhappily this is too natural to be wondered at. Originality is the one thing which unoriginal minds cannot feel the use of. They cannot see what it is to do for them: how should they? If they could see what it would do for them, it would not be originality. The first service which originality has to render them, is that of opening their eyes: which being once fully done, they would have a chance of being themselves original. Meanwhile, recollecting that nothing was ever yet done which some one was not the first to do, and that all good things which exist are the fruits of originality, let them be modest enough to believe that there is something still left for it to accomplish, and assure themselves that they are more in need of originality, the less they are conscious of the want.
I insist strongly on the importance of genius and the need to let it develop freely in thought and action. I know people won't deny this in theory, but in practice almost everyone is indifferent. Many admire genius when it produces a stirring poem or a beautiful painting. But true genius is originality in thought and action. No one openly denies it's admirable. Yet most people privately believe they can do fine without it. Sadly, this attitude is natural. People without originality cannot recognize its value. They cannot see how it would help them. How could they? If they could see the benefit, it would not be originality. The first gift originality offers is to open their eyes. Once that happens, they might become original themselves. Remember that nothing was ever done without someone being the first to do it. All the good things we have come from originality. They should be modest enough to admit originality still has work to do. They should also realize they need originality even more when they least notice the need.
In sober truth, whatever homage may be professed, or even paid, to real or supposed mental superiority, the general tendency of things throughout the world is to render mediocrity the ascendant power among mankind. In ancient history, in the middle ages, and in a diminishing degree through the long transition from feudality to the present time, the individual was a power in himself; and if he had either great talents or a high social position, he was a considerable power. At present individuals are lost in the crowd. In politics it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion now rules the world. The only power deserving the name is that of masses, and of governments while they make themselves the organ of the tendencies and instincts of masses. This is as true in the moral and social relations of private life as in public transactions. Those whose opinions go by the name of public opinion, are not always the same sort of public: in America they are the whole white population; in England, chiefly the middle class. But they are always a mass, that is to say, collective mediocrity. And what is a still greater novelty, the mass do not now take their opinions from dignitaries in Church or State, from ostensible leaders, or from books. Their thinking is done for them by men much like themselves, addressing them or speaking in their name, on the spur of the moment, through the newspapers. I am not complaining of all this. I do not assert that anything better is compatible, as a general rule, with the present low state of the human mind. But that does not hinder the government of mediocrity from being mediocre government. No government by a democracy or a numerous aristocracy, either in its political acts or in the opinions, qualities, and tone of mind which it fosters, ever did or could rise above mediocrity, except in so far as the sovereign Many have let themselves be guided (which in their best times they always have done) by the counsels and influence of a more highly gifted and instructed One or Few. The initiation of all wise or noble things, comes and must come from individuals; generally at first from some one individual. The honour and glory of the average man is that he is capable of following that initiative; that he can respond internally to wise and noble things, and be led to them with his eyes open. I am not countenancing the sort of "hero-worship" which applauds the strong man of genius for forcibly seizing on the government of the world and making it do his bidding in spite of itself. All he can claim is, freedom to point out the way. The power of compelling others into it, is not only inconsistent with the freedom and development of all the rest, but corrupting to the strong man himself. It does seem, however, that when the opinions of masses of merely average men are everywhere become or becoming the dominant power, the counterpoise and corrective to that tendency would be, the more and more pronounced individuality of those who stand on the higher eminences of thought. It is in these circumstances most especially, that exceptional individuals, instead of being deterred, should be encouraged in acting differently from the mass. In other times there was no advantage in their doing so, unless they acted not only differently, but better. In this age the mere example of nonconformity, the mere refusal to bend the knee to custom, is itself a service. Precisely because the tyranny of opinion is such as to make eccentricity a reproach, it is desirable, in order to break through that tyranny, that people should be eccentric. Eccentricity has always abounded when and where strength of character has abounded; and the amount of eccentricity in a society has generally been proportional to the amount of genius, mental vigour, and moral courage which it contained. That so few now dare to be eccentric, marks the chief danger of the time.
The plain truth is this. However much people say they respect real or supposed mental superiority, the general tendency worldwide is to make mediocrity the dominant force. In ancient times, in the Middle Ages, and to a lesser extent during the long shift from feudal society to now, the individual could be a power on his own. If he had great talent or high social rank, he mattered even more. Today individuals disappear into the crowd. In politics it is almost a truism that public opinion rules the world. The only real power now is that of the masses, and of governments when they become the voice of those masses. This is true in private moral and social life just as in public affairs. The people who form "public opinion" are not the same everywhere. In America they mean the whole white population. In England they mostly mean the middle class. But they are always a mass. In practice that means collective mediocrity. A newer change is that the mass no longer gets opinions from Church or State leaders, from public figures, or from books. Men like themselves think for them. These men address them or speak in their name, often on the spur of the moment, through the newspapers. I am not complaining about all this. I do not claim that anything better would generally be possible given the current low state of the human mind. Still, mediocre rule remains mediocre government. No democracy or large aristocracy has, by its political acts or by the opinions and character it encourages, risen above mediocrity. They have done so only when the sovereign Many allowed themselves to be guided. In their best times the Many have always followed the counsel and influence of a more gifted and educated One or Few. All wise or noble beginnings come from individuals. Usually they begin with one person. The average person's credit is that he can follow those beginnings. He can respond inwardly to what is wise and noble, and be led to it knowingly. I do not support the kind of "hero-worship" that praises a strong genius for seizing power and forcing the world to his will. Such a person can claim only the freedom to point the way. Forcing others is wrong. It stifles the freedom and development of everyone else. It also corrupts the strong person. When the opinions of merely average masses become dominant, the natural counterweight should be more pronounced individuality among the great thinkers. In these circumstances exceptional people should not be discouraged. They should be encouraged to act differently from the mass. In earlier times there was no gain in acting differently unless one acted better. Today the mere example of nonconformity matters. The simple refusal to bow to custom is itself a service. Because the tyranny of opinion makes eccentricity a reproach, it is important to break that tyranny by encouraging eccentric people. Eccentricity has always flourished where strength of character flourished. The amount of eccentricity in a society usually matches its amount of genius, mental energy, and moral courage. That so few now dare to be eccentric marks the chief danger of our time.
I have said that it is important to give the freest scope possible to uncustomary things, in order that it may in time appear which of these are fit to be converted into customs. But independence of action, and disregard of custom are not solely deserving of encouragement for the chance they afford that better modes of action, and customs more worthy of general adoption, may be struck out; nor is it only persons of decided mental superiority who have a just claim to carry on their lives in their own way. There is no reason that all human existences should be constructed on some one, or some small number of patterns. If a person possesses any tolerable amount of common-sense and experience, his own mode of laying out his existence is the best, not because it is the best in itself, but because it is his own mode. Human beings are not like sheep; and even sheep are not undistinguishably alike. A man cannot get a coat or a pair of boots to fit him, unless they are either made to his measure, or he has a whole warehouseful to choose from: and is it easier to fit him with a life than with a coat, or are human beings more like one another in their whole physical and spiritual conformation than in the shape of their feet? If it were only that people have diversities of taste, that is reason enough for not attempting to shape them all after one model. But different persons also require different conditions for their spiritual development; and can no more exist healthily in the same moral, than all the variety of plants can in the same physical, atmosphere and climate. The same things which are helps to one person towards the cultivation of his higher nature, are hindrances to another. The same mode of life is a healthy excitement to one, keeping all his faculties of action and enjoyment in their best order, while to another it is a distracting burthen, which suspends or crushes all internal life. Such are the differences among human beings in their sources of pleasure, their susceptibilities of pain, and the operation on them of different physical and moral agencies, that unless there is a corresponding diversity in their modes of life, they neither obtain their fair share of happiness, nor grow up to the mental, moral, and aesthetic stature of which their nature is capable. Why then should tolerance, as far as the public sentiment is concerned, extend only to tastes and modes of life which extort acquiescence by the multitude of their adherents? Nowhere (except in some monastic institutions) is diversity of taste entirely unrecognised; a person may, without blame, either like or dislike rowing, or smoking, or music, or athletic exercises, or chess, or cards, or study, because both those who like each of these things, and those who dislike them, are too numerous to be put down. But the man, and still more the woman, who can be accused either of doing "what nobody does," or of not doing "what everybody does," is the subject of as much depreciatory remark as if he or she had committed some grave moral delinquency. Persons require to possess a title, or some other badge of rank, or of the consideration of people of rank, to be able to indulge somewhat in the luxury of doing as they like without detriment to their estimation. To indulge somewhat, I repeat: for whoever allow themselves much of that indulgence, incur the risk of something worse than disparaging speeches—they are in peril of a commission de lunatico, and of having their property taken from them and given to their relations.
I have said it is important to give the freest possible scope to unconventional things. Over time, this shows which deserve to become customs. Independence of action and a disregard for custom deserve support for more than one reason. They may lead to better habits and more worthy customs. The right to live one's own life does not belong only to people of superior intellect. There is no reason all human lives should follow one, or a few, standard patterns. If someone has a reasonable amount of common sense and experience, their way of living is generally the best for them. Not because it is best in itself, but because it is their own way. Humans are not like sheep. Even sheep are not all alike. You cannot get a coat or boots that fit unless they are made to measure or you have a warehouse to choose from. Is it easier to fit a life to someone than a coat? Are people more alike in mind and body than in the shape of their feet? Even differences in taste alone are reason enough not to force everyone into one model. Different people also need different conditions to grow spiritually. They cannot all thrive under the same moral environment, just as plants need different climates. What helps one person develop can hinder another. A certain life can energize one person, keeping their faculties sharp. For another, the same life can be a crushing burden that shuts down inner life. People differ in what gives them pleasure, what causes them pain, and how physical and moral forces affect them. Unless their ways of life are equally diverse, they do not get their fair share of happiness. They also fail to develop the mental, moral, and aesthetic capacities they could reach. So why should public tolerance extend only to tastes and lifestyles that win acceptance by sheer numbers? Nowhere, except some monasteries, is variety of taste completely ignored. You can like or dislike rowing, smoking, music, sports, chess, cards, or study without blame. Both supporters and opponents of these activities are too numerous to silence. Yet a man, and even more a woman, who is accused of doing "what nobody does," or of not doing "what everybody does," faces as much criticism as if they had committed a serious moral crime. People need a title or some sign of rank to have the luxury of doing as they please without harming their reputation. I say they can indulge a little. But those who indulge a lot risk something worse than insults. They may be declared de lunatico. They may lose their property, given to their relatives.
There is something both contemptible and frightening about the kind of evidence used lately. It can lead to a person being officially declared unfit to manage his own affairs. After his death, his disposal of property can be overturned if the estate can pay the legal costs. Those costs are taken from the property itself. They pry into every detail of his daily life. Anything they find that, when seen through the eyes and language of the lowest people, looks anything but ordinary is put before a jury as proof of insanity. That often convinces the jury. The jurors are hardly less vulgar and ignorant than the witnesses. The judges, especially English lawyers, show a remarkable lack of understanding of human nature and life. They often mislead the jurors. These trials reveal the feelings and opinions of the vulgar about human liberty. They do not value individuality. They do not respect a person’s right to act, in matters that do not harm others, according to their own judgment and inclinations. Judges and juries cannot even imagine that a sane person might want such freedom. In former days, when people proposed burning atheists, charitable people used to suggest putting them in a madhouse instead. It would not surprise me to see that done now. The people who did it would applaud themselves. They would say that, instead of persecuting for religion, they had adopted a humane and Christian way of treating these unfortunates. They would feel a quiet satisfaction that the sufferers had thereby got their deserts.
There is one characteristic of the present direction of public opinion, peculiarly calculated to make it intolerant of any marked demonstration of individuality. The general average of mankind are not only moderate in intellect, but also moderate in inclinations: they have no tastes or wishes strong enough to incline them to do anything unusual, and they consequently do not understand those who have, and class all such with the wild and intemperate whom they are accustomed to look down upon. Now, in addition to this fact which is general, we have only to suppose that a strong movement has set in towards the improvement of morals, and it is evident what we have to expect. In these days such a movement has set in; much has actually been effected in the way of increased regularity of conduct, and discouragement of excesses; and there is a philanthropic spirit abroad, for the exercise of which there is no more inviting field than the moral and prudential improvement of our fellow-creatures. These tendencies of the times cause the public to be more disposed than at most former periods to prescribe general rules of conduct, and endeavour to make every one conform to the approved standard. And that standard, express or tacit, is to desire nothing strongly. Its ideal of character is to be without any marked character; to maim by compression, like a Chinese lady's foot, every part of human nature which stands out prominently, and tends to make the person markedly dissimilar in outline to commonplace humanity.
There is one feature of the current trend in public opinion that makes it especially intolerant of clear individuality. The average person is moderate in intellect and in desires. Most people have no tastes or wishes strong enough to make them do anything unusual. So they do not understand those who do, and they group them with the wild and intemperate they already look down on. Add a strong movement toward improving morals, and the result is predictable. Today such a movement has begun. People have made conduct more regular and discouraged excess. A philanthropic spirit is widespread, and there is no more inviting field than trying to improve others morally and prudently. These tendencies make the public more willing than in many past times to set general rules of conduct and to push everyone to follow the approved standard. That standard, stated or not, is to desire nothing strongly. Its ideal of character is to have no marked character. It aims to maim by compression, like the bound foot of a Chinese woman, every part of human nature that stands out and makes a person noticeably different from commonplace humanity.
As is usually the case with ideals which exclude one-half of what is desirable, the present standard of approbation produces only an inferior imitation of the other half. Instead of great energies guided by vigorous reason, and strong feelings strongly controlled by a conscientious will, its result is weak feelings and weak energies, which therefore can be kept in outward conformity to rule without any strength either of will or of reason. Already energetic characters on any large scale are becoming merely traditional. There is now scarcely any outlet for energy in this country except business. The energy expended in that may still be regarded as considerable. What little is left from that employment, is expended on some hobby; which may be a useful, even a philanthropic hobby, but is always some one thing, and generally a thing of small dimensions. The greatness of England is now all collective: individually small, we only appear capable of anything great by our habit of combining; and with this our moral and religious philanthropists are perfectly contented. But it was men of another stamp than this that made England what it has been; and men of another stamp will be needed to prevent its decline.
When an ideal ignores half of what is desirable, public approval usually creates only a weak copy of the missing half. Instead of powerful drives guided by clear reason and strong feelings kept in check by a conscientious will, it produces weak feelings and weak energies. These can be made to follow rules outwardly without any real strength of will or reason. Energetic characters, on a large scale, are already becoming merely traditional. Today there is hardly any outlet for energy in this country besides business. The energy poured into business is still considerable. What little is left goes into hobbies. Those hobbies may be useful, even philanthropic, but they are always focused on a single thing and usually something small. England’s greatness is now entirely collective. Individually we are small and only seem capable of great deeds because we combine. Our moral and religious philanthropists are perfectly content with that. Yet it was men of a different kind who made England what it was, and men of that kind will be needed to prevent its decline.
The despotism of custom is everywhere the standing hindrance to human advancement, being in unceasing antagonism to that disposition to aim at something better than customary, which is called, according to circumstances, the spirit of liberty, or that of progress or improvement. The spirit of improvement is not always a spirit of liberty, for it may aim at forcing improvements on an unwilling people; and the spirit of liberty, in so far as it resists such attempts, may ally itself locally and temporarily with the opponents of improvement; but the only unfailing and permanent source of improvement is liberty, since by it there are as many possible independent centres of improvement as there are individuals. The progressive principle, however, in either shape, whether as the love of liberty or of improvement, is antagonistic to the sway of Custom, involving at least emancipation from that yoke; and the contest between the two constitutes the chief interest of the history of mankind. The greater part of the world has, properly speaking, no history, because the despotism of Custom is complete. This is the case over the whole East. Custom is there, in all things, the final appeal; justice and right mean conformity to custom; the argument of custom no one, unless some tyrant intoxicated with power, thinks of resisting. And we see the result. Those nations must once have had originality; they did not start out of the ground populous, lettered, and versed in many of the arts of life; they made themselves all this, and were then the greatest and most powerful nations in the world. What are they now? The subjects or dependants of tribes whose forefathers wandered in the forests when theirs had magnificent palaces and gorgeous temples, but over whom custom exercised only a divided rule with liberty and progress. A people, it appears, may be progressive for a certain length of time, and then stop: when does it stop? When it ceases to possess individuality. If a similar change should befall the nations of Europe, it will not be in exactly the same shape: the despotism of custom with which these nations are threatened is not precisely stationariness. It proscribes singularity, but it does not preclude change, provided all change together. We have discarded the fixed costumes of our forefathers; every one must still dress like other people, but the fashion may change once or twice a year. We thus take care that when there is change, it shall be for change's sake, and not from any idea of beauty or convenience; for the same idea of beauty or convenience would not strike all the world at the same moment, and be simultaneously thrown aside by all at another moment. But we are progressive as well as changeable: we continually make new inventions in mechanical things, and keep them until they are again superseded by better; we are eager for improvement in politics, in education, even in morals, though in this last our idea of improvement chiefly consists in persuading or forcing other people to be as good as ourselves. It is not progress that we object to; on the contrary, we flatter ourselves that we are the most progressive people who ever lived. It is individuality that we war against: we should think we had done wonders if we had made ourselves all alike; forgetting that the unlikeness of one person to another is generally the first thing which draws the attention of either to the imperfection of his own type, and the superiority of another, or the possibility, by combining the advantages of both, of producing something better than either. We have a warning example in China—a nation of much talent, and, in some respects, even wisdom, owing to the rare good fortune of having been provided at an early period with a particularly good set of customs, the work, in some measure, of men to whom even the most enlightened European must accord, under certain limitations, the title of sages and philosophers. They are remarkable, too, in the excellence of their apparatus for impressing, as far as possible, the best wisdom they possess upon every mind in the community, and securing that those who have appropriated most of it shall occupy the posts of honour and power. Surely the people who did this have discovered the secret of human progressiveness, and must have kept themselves steadily at the head of the movement of the world. On the contrary, they have become stationary—have remained so for thousands of years; and if they are ever to be farther improved, it must be by foreigners. They have succeeded beyond all hope in what English philanthropists are so industriously working at—in making a people all alike, all governing their thoughts and conduct by the same maxims and rules; and these are the fruits. The modern régime of public opinion is, in an unorganised form, what the Chinese educational and political systems are in an organised; and unless individuality shall be able successfully to assert itself against this yoke, Europe, notwithstanding its noble antecedents and its professed Christianity, will tend to become another China.
The despotism of custom is everywhere the constant obstacle to human progress. It fights the impulse to aim at something better than what is customary. Depending on the situation, that impulse is called the spirit of liberty, or the spirit of progress or improvement. The spirit of improvement is not always the spirit of liberty. It can try to force changes on an unwilling people. The spirit of liberty may, by opposing such force, temporarily side with the enemies of improvement. Still, liberty is the only reliable, lasting source of improvement. With liberty, every individual can be an independent center of change. The progressive principle, whether as a love of liberty or of improvement, opposes the rule of custom. It at least frees people from that yoke. The struggle between the two is the main drama of human history. Most of the world has, properly speaking, no history at all, because custom rules completely. This is true across the whole East. There, custom is the final appeal in every matter. Justice and right mean simply doing what custom demands. No one tries to question the argument of custom, except a ruler drunk with power. The result is clear. Those nations must once have had originality. They did not spring fully formed into being. They built themselves up and became the greatest and most powerful nations. What have they become now? They are subjects or dependents of tribes whose ancestors once wandered in forests. Those forest wanderers now rule over people who once had magnificent palaces and temples. Back then, custom shared power with liberty and progress. A people can be progressive for a while and then stop. When does it stop? When it loses individuality. If the nations of Europe suffer the same change, it will take a different form. The kind of despotism of custom that threatens Europe is not mere stagnation. It forbids uniqueness, but it does not forbid change so long as everyone changes together. We have thrown off the fixed dress of our forefathers. Still, everyone must dress like everyone else, though fashions may change once or twice a year. We make sure change happens for its own sake, not because of any shared sense of beauty or convenience. After all, the same idea of beauty or comfort would not strike the whole world at once, nor be discarded by everyone at the same time. At the same time, we are both progressive and changeable. We keep inventing new machines and using them until better ones appear. We push for improvement in politics, education, and even morals. In morals, our idea of improvement often means persuading or forcing other people to be as good as we are. We do not object to progress. We proudly claim to be the most progressive people who ever lived. What we oppose is individuality. We would be proud if we made ourselves all alike. We forget that differences between people often reveal the flaws in our own type. They also show the superiority of others or the chance to combine strengths and create something better. China is a warning example. It is a nation of great talent and, in some ways, real wisdom. It had the rare good fortune to receive early on a set of excellent customs. Those customs were partly the work of men whom even the most enlightened European, with certain qualifications, would call sages and philosophers. The Chinese also built an excellent system for impressing their best wisdom on every mind in the community. They made sure that those who learned most filled the positions of honor and power. You would think such people had found the secret of human progress. Yet the opposite happened. They became stationary and stayed so for thousands of years. If they improve further, it will likely be through foreigners. They have achieved fully what some English reformers work so hard to do: they have made a people uniform. Everyone governs thought and action by the same maxims and rules. These are the results. The modern régime of public opinion is, in an unorganised form, what the Chinese educational and political systems are in an organised form. Unless individuality can successfully assert itself against this yoke, Europe, despite its noble history and professed Christianity, will tend to become another China.
What is it that has hitherto preserved Europe from this lot? What has made the European family of nations an improving, instead of a stationary portion of mankind? Not any superior excellence in them, which, when it exists, exists as the effect, not as the cause; but their remarkable diversity of character and culture. Individuals, classes, nations, have been extremely unlike one another: they have struck out a great variety of paths, each leading to something valuable; and although at every period those who travelled in different paths have been intolerant of one another, and each would have thought it an excellent thing if all the rest could have been compelled to travel his road, their attempts to thwart each other's development have rarely had any permanent success, and each has in time endured to receive the good which the others have offered. Europe is, in my judgment, wholly indebted to this plurality of paths for its progressive and many-sided development. But it already begins to possess this benefit in a considerably less degree. It is decidedly advancing towards the Chinese ideal of making all people alike. M. de Tocqueville, in his last important work, remarks how much more the Frenchmen of the present day resemble one another, than did those even of the last generation. The same remark might be made of Englishmen in a far greater degree. In a passage already quoted from Wilhelm von Humboldt, he points out two things as necessary conditions of human development, because necessary to render people unlike one another; namely, freedom, and variety of situations. The second of these two conditions is in this country every day diminishing. The circumstances which surround different classes and individuals, and shape their characters, are daily becoming more assimilated. Formerly, different ranks, different neighbourhoods, different trades and professions, lived in what might be called different worlds; at present, to a great degree in the same. Comparatively speaking, they now read the same things, listen to the same things, see the same things, go to the same places, have their hopes and fears directed to the same objects, have the same rights and liberties, and the same means of asserting them. Great as are the differences of position which remain, they are nothing to those which have ceased. And the assimilation is still proceeding. All the political changes of the age promote it, since they all tend to raise the low and to lower the high. Every extension of education promotes it, because education brings people under common influences, and gives them access to the general stock of facts and sentiments. Improvements in the means of communication promote it, by bringing the inhabitants of distant places into personal contact, and keeping up a rapid flow of changes of residence between one place and another. The increase of commerce and manufactures promotes it, by diffusing more widely the advantages of easy circumstances, and opening all objects of ambition, even the highest, to general competition, whereby the desire of rising becomes no longer the character of a particular class, but of all classes. A more powerful agency than even all these, in bringing about a general similarity among mankind, is the complete establishment, in this and other free countries, of the ascendency of public opinion in the State. As the various social eminences which enabled persons entrenched on them to disregard the opinion of the multitude, gradually become levelled; as the very idea of resisting the will of the public, when it is positively known that they have a will, disappears more and more from the minds of practical politicians; there ceases to be any social support for non-conformity—any substantive power in society, which, itself opposed to the ascendency of numbers, is interested in taking under its protection opinions and tendencies at variance with those of the public.
What has kept Europe from that fate until now? What has made the European family of nations a progressing, rather than a stationary, part of humanity? It was not any superior excellence in them. When such excellence exists, it is an effect, not the cause. The real reason was their remarkable diversity of character and culture. Individuals, classes, and nations were very different. They followed many different paths, and each path led to something valuable. At every period, people on different paths were intolerant of one another. Each would have thought it excellent if everyone could be forced to follow his road. Their attempts to stop each other's development rarely lasted. Over time, each group accepted the good the others offered. I believe Europe owes its progressive and many-sided development entirely to this plurality of paths. But that advantage is already declining. Europe is clearly moving toward the Chinese ideal of making everyone alike. M. de Tocqueville, in his last major work, notes that today’s French resemble one another far more than those of the last generation did. The same is even truer of the English. Wilhelm von Humboldt, quoted earlier, says two things are necessary for human development because they make people different: freedom and variety of circumstances. The second condition is steadily shrinking in this country. The circumstances around different classes and individuals, which shape their characters, are becoming more alike every day. In the past, different ranks, neighborhoods, trades, and professions lived in almost different worlds. Now they largely live in the same world. They read the same things, listen to the same things, and see the same things. They go to the same places. Their hopes and fears aim at the same objects. They have the same rights and freedoms and the same means to claim them. The remaining differences of position are significant, but small compared with those that have disappeared. And this assimilation continues. Political changes push it forward because they tend to raise the low and lower the high. Expanding education helps because it brings people under common influences and gives them access to the same facts and feelings. Better communication spreads it by bringing distant people into contact and encouraging frequent moves between places. Growth in commerce and industry accelerates it by spreading the comforts of life more widely. It opens even the highest ambitions to general competition. The desire to rise in the world stops being the trait of one class and becomes common to all. More powerful than all these forces is the full establishment, in this and other free countries, of the dominance of public opinion in the state. As the social heights that once let people ignore popular opinion are leveled, the idea of resisting the public’s will fades from practical politicians’ minds. When it is clear the public has a will, resisting it seems pointless. Then there is no social support left for nonconformity. No significant social power remains that opposes the majority and could protect opinions or tendencies that differ from those of the public.
The combination of all these causes forms so great a mass of influences hostile to Individuality, that it is not easy to see how it can stand its ground. It will do so with increasing difficulty, unless the intelligent part of the public can be made to feel its value—to see that it is good there should be differences, even though not for the better, even though, as it may appear to them, some should be for the worse. If the claims of Individuality are ever to be asserted, the time is now, while much is still wanting to complete the enforced assimilation. It is only in the earlier stages that any stand can be successfully made against the encroachment. The demand that all other people shall resemble ourselves, grows by what it feeds on. If resistance waits till life is reduced nearly to one uniform type, all deviations from that type will come to be considered impious, immoral, even monstrous and contrary to nature. Mankind speedily become unable to conceive diversity, when they have been for some time unaccustomed to see it.
All these forces together create a huge pressure against Individuality. It is hard to see how Individuality can hold its ground. It will do so with increasing difficulty unless the thoughtful part of the public comes to value it. They must understand that differences are good, even when some differences are not improvements. Even if some seem worse to them, those differences still matter. If Individuality is ever to assert its claims, the time is now, while much is still needed to complete the enforced assimilation. Only in the early stages can resistance be successfully made against this encroachment. The demand that everyone resemble us grows by feeding on itself. If resistance waits until life is reduced nearly to one uniform type, any deviation from that type will be viewed as impious, immoral, even monstrous and against nature. People quickly lose the ability to imagine diversity when they have not seen it for some time.