The principles asserted in these pages must be more generally admitted as the basis for discussion of details, before a consistent application of them to all the various departments of government and morals can be attempted with any prospect of advantage. The few observations I propose to make on questions of detail, are designed to illustrate the principles, rather than to follow them out to their consequences. I offer, not so much applications, as specimens of application; which may serve to bring into greater clearness the meaning and limits of the two maxims which together form the entire doctrine of this Essay, and to assist the judgment in holding the balance between them, in the cases where it appears doubtful which of them is applicable to the case.
The principles in these pages need to be more widely accepted. Only then can they be applied consistently across all parts of government and moral life with any real benefit. The few observations I will make about particular issues are meant to illustrate those principles, not to work out all their consequences. I offer examples of application, not full implementations. These examples should make clearer the meaning and limits of the two maxims that together form the whole doctrine of this Essay. They should also help judgment by showing how to balance those maxims when it is unclear which one fits a given case.
The maxims are, first, that the individual is not accountable to society for his actions, in so far as these concern the interests of no person but himself. Advice, instruction, persuasion, and avoidance by other people if thought necessary by them for their own good, are the only measures by which society can justifiably express its dislike or disapprobation of his conduct. Secondly, that for such actions as are prejudicial to the interests of others, the individual is accountable and may be subjected either to social or to legal punishments, if society is of opinion that the one or the other is requisite for its protection.
The principles are, first, that a person is not accountable to society for actions that concern only themselves. Society may only respond with advice, instruction, persuasion, or avoidance when others think it's necessary for their own good. Second, when actions harm others, the individual is accountable. The individual may face social or legal punishment if society believes that is necessary for its protection.
In the first place, it must by no means be supposed, because damage, or probability of damage, to the interests of others, can alone justify the interference of society, that therefore it always does justify such interference. In many cases, an individual, in pursuing a legitimate object, necessarily and therefore legitimately causes pain or loss to others, or intercepts a good which they had a reasonable hope of obtaining. Such oppositions of interest between individuals often arise from bad social institutions, but are unavoidable while those institutions last; and some would be unavoidable under any institutions. Whoever succeeds in an overcrowded profession, or in a competitive examination; whoever is preferred to another in any contest for an object which both desire, reaps benefit from the loss of others, from their wasted exertion and their disappointment. But it is, by common admission, better for the general interest of mankind, that persons should pursue their objects undeterred by this sort of consequences. In other words, society admits no rights, either legal or moral, in the disappointed competitors, to immunity from this kind of suffering; and feels called on to interfere, only when means of success have been employed which it is contrary to the general interest to permit—namely, fraud or treachery, and force.
First, we must not assume that because harm, or the risk of harm, to others can justify society's interference, it always does. Often, when someone pursues a legitimate goal, they will inevitably and rightly cause pain or loss to others. They may also take something others reasonably hoped to get. These conflicts of interest often come from bad social institutions, but they are unavoidable while those institutions remain. Some conflicts would exist under any institutions. Anyone who succeeds in an overcrowded profession or a competitive exam benefits from others' loss. Being chosen over another in a contest both wanted brings the same result. Yet we generally agree it is better for the general interest that people pursue their goals. They should not be held back by such consequences. In other words, society recognizes no legal or moral right for disappointed competitors to be shielded from this kind of suffering. Society feels compelled to interfere only when success has been gained by means that harm the general interest, namely fraud, treachery, or force.
Again, trade is a social act. Whoever undertakes to sell any description of goods to the public, does what affects the interest of other persons, and of society in general; and thus his conduct, in principle, comes within the jurisdiction of society: accordingly, it was once held to be the duty of governments, in all cases which were considered of importance, to fix prices, and regulate the processes of manufacture. But it is now recognised, though not till after a long struggle, that both the cheapness and the good quality of commodities are most effectually provided for by leaving the producers and sellers perfectly free, under the sole check of equal freedom to the buyers for supplying themselves elsewhere. This is the so-called doctrine of Free Trade, which rests on grounds different from, though equally solid with, the principle of individual liberty asserted in this Essay. Restrictions on trade, or on production for purposes of trade, are indeed restraints; and all restraint, quâ restraint, is an evil: but the restraints in question affect only that part of conduct which society is competent to restrain, and are wrong solely because they do not really produce the results which it is desired to produce by them. As the principle of individual liberty is not involved in the doctrine of Free Trade, so neither is it in most of the questions which arise respecting the limits of that doctrine: as for example, what amount of public control is admissible for the prevention of fraud by adulteration; how far sanitary precautions, or arrangements to protect work-people employed in dangerous occupations, should be enforced on employers. Such questions involve considerations of liberty, only in so far as leaving people to themselves is always better, cæteris paribus, than controlling them: but that they may be legitimately controlled for these ends, is in principle undeniable. On the other hand, there are questions relating to interference with trade, which are essentially questions of liberty; such as the Maine Law, already touched upon; the prohibition of the importation of opium into China; the restriction of the sale of poisons; all cases, in short, where the object of the interference is to make it impossible or difficult to obtain a particular commodity. These interferences are objectionable, not as infringements on the liberty of the producer or seller, but on that of the buyer.
Again, trade is a social act. Anyone who sells goods to the public affects other people and society as a whole. So their conduct, in principle, falls under society’s authority. People once thought governments should, in important cases, set prices and regulate how goods were made. After a long struggle, we now recognize that low prices and good quality come most effectively from leaving producers and sellers free. The only check is that buyers are equally free to buy elsewhere. This is the doctrine called Free Trade. Its basis is different from, but as solid as, the principle of individual liberty defended in this Essay. Limits on trade, or on production for trade, are restraints. And all restraint, quâ restraint, is an evil. Still, these restraints affect only the parts of behavior that society can rightly limit. They are wrong only because they fail to achieve the results intended. Because individual liberty is not involved in the doctrine of Free Trade, it also does not apply to many questions about its limits. For example: how much public control is acceptable to prevent fraud by adulteration? How far should sanitary measures, or protections for workers in dangerous jobs, be enforced on employers? These questions touch on liberty only insofar as leaving people alone is usually better, cæteris paribus, than controlling them. Yet it is undeniable in principle that they may be legitimately controlled for these purposes. On the other hand, some interferences with trade are essentially questions of liberty. Examples include the Maine Law mentioned earlier, the ban on importing opium into China, and restrictions on selling poisons. In short, any case where the aim is to make a particular commodity hard or impossible to obtain. Such interferences are objectionable not because they limit the liberty of producers or sellers, but because they limit the liberty of buyers.
One of these examples, that of the sale of poisons, opens a new question; the proper limits of what may be called the functions of police; how far liberty may legitimately be invaded for the prevention of crime, or of accident. It is one of the undisputed functions of government to take precautions against crime before it has been committed, as well as to detect and punish it afterwards. The preventive function of government, however, is far more liable to be abused, to the prejudice of liberty, than the punitory function; for there is hardly any part of the legitimate freedom of action of a human being which would not admit of being represented, and fairly too, as increasing the facilities for some form or other of delinquency. Nevertheless, if a public authority, or even a private person, sees any one evidently preparing to commit a crime, they are not bound to look on inactive until the crime is committed, but may interfere to prevent it. If poisons were never bought or used for any purpose except the commission of murder, it would be right to prohibit their manufacture and sale. They may, however, be wanted not only for innocent but for useful purposes, and restrictions cannot be imposed in the one case without operating in the other. Again, it is a proper office of public authority to guard against accidents. If either a public officer or any one else saw a person attempting to cross a bridge which had been ascertained to be unsafe, and there were no time to warn him of his danger, they might seize him and turn him back, without any real infringement of his liberty; for liberty consists in doing what one desires, and he does not desire to fall into the river. Nevertheless, when there is not a certainty, but only a danger of mischief, no one but the person himself can judge of the sufficiency of the motive which may prompt him to incur the risk: in this case, therefore (unless he is a child, or delirious, or in some state of excitement or absorption incompatible with the full use of the reflecting faculty), he ought, I conceive, to be only warned of the danger; not forcibly prevented from exposing himself to it. Similar considerations, applied to such a question as the sale of poisons, may enable us to decide which among the possible modes of regulation are or are not contrary to principle. Such a precaution, for example, as that of labelling the drug with some word expressive of its dangerous character, may be enforced without violation of liberty: the buyer cannot wish not to know that the thing he possesses has poisonous qualities. But to require in all cases the certificate of a medical practitioner, would make it sometimes impossible, always expensive, to obtain the article for legitimate uses. The only mode apparent to me, in which difficulties may be thrown in the way of crime committed through this means, without any infringement, worth taking into account, upon the liberty of those who desire the poisonous substance for other purposes, consists in providing what, in the apt language of Bentham, is called "preappointed evidence." This provision is familiar to every one in the case of contracts. It is usual and right that the law, when a contract is entered into, should require as the condition of its enforcing performance, that certain formalities should be observed, such as signatures, attestation of witnesses, and the like, in order that in case of subsequent dispute, there may be evidence to prove that the contract was really entered into, and that there was nothing in the circumstances to render it legally invalid: the effect being, to throw great obstacles in the way of fictitious contracts, or contracts made in circumstances which, if known, would destroy their validity. Precautions of a similar nature might be enforced in the sale of articles adapted to be instruments of crime. The seller, for example, might be required to enter into a register the exact time of the transaction, the name and address of the buyer, the precise quality and quantity sold; to ask the purpose for which it was wanted, and record the answer he received. When there was no medical prescription, the presence of some third person might be required, to bring home the fact to the purchaser, in case there should afterwards be reason to believe that the article had been applied to criminal purposes. Such regulations would in general be no material impediment to obtaining the article, but a very considerable one to making an improper use of it without detection.
One example, the sale of poisons, raises a new question about the proper limits of police powers. How far may liberty be legitimately restricted to prevent crime or accidents? It is clearly a government duty to take precautions against crime before it happens, as well as to detect and punish it afterward. The preventive role, however, is more prone to abuse and to violating liberty than the punitive role. Almost any part of a person's lawful freedom can be plausibly presented as making some kind of crime easier. Still, if a public official or a private person sees someone clearly preparing to commit a crime, they need not stand by. They may intervene to stop it. If poisons were only ever bought or used to commit murder, banning their manufacture and sale would be right. But poisons can be needed for harmless and useful purposes. Rules that ban them will also block those legitimate uses. It is also proper for authorities to guard against accidents. If an officer or anyone else sees a person trying to cross a bridge known to be unsafe, and there is no time to warn them, they may seize them and turn them back. That does not really violate their liberty. Liberty means doing what you desire, and the person does not desire to fall into the river. When harm is only possible, not certain, only the person can judge whether the reason for taking the risk is strong enough. So, unless someone is a child, delirious, or so excited or absorbed that they cannot think clearly, they should be warned of the danger only. They should not be forcibly prevented from exposing themselves to it. Applying the same reasoning to the sale of poisons helps decide which regulations are principled and which are not. For example, requiring a drug to be labeled as dangerous can be enforced without violating liberty. A buyer has no reason to want to be unaware that what they possess is poisonous. But demanding a doctor's certificate in every case would sometimes make it impossible and always make it costly to obtain the item for legitimate uses. The only method I see that can make crime harder, without seriously infringing the freedom of those who need the poison for other purposes, is what Bentham called "preappointed evidence." We are familiar with this idea from contracts. The law rightly requires certain formalities when enforcing contracts. It may demand signatures, witness attestations, and the like. These formalities make sure that if a dispute arises later, there is proof the contract was real and valid. The result is that fictitious contracts, or contracts made in circumstances that would destroy their validity, face great obstacles. Precautions of the same kind could be required when selling items that can be used as instruments of crime. The seller might be required to record the exact time of the sale, the buyer's name and address, and the precise quality and quantity sold. The seller could ask the buyer why they want it and note the answer. When there is no medical prescription, a third person might need to be present to confirm the purchase, so the sale can be traced if later there is reason to believe the item was used criminally. Such rules would generally not make it much harder to obtain the article for legitimate uses, but they would make it much harder to use it improperly without being detected.
The right inherent in society, to ward off crimes against itself by antecedent precautions, suggests the obvious limitations to the maxim, that purely self-regarding misconduct cannot properly be meddled with in the way of prevention or punishment. Drunkenness, for example, in ordinary cases, is not a fit subject for legislative interference; but I should deem it perfectly legitimate that a person, who had once been convicted of any act of violence to others under the influence of drink, should be placed under a special legal restriction, personal to himself; that if he were afterwards found drunk, he should be liable to a penalty, and that if when in that state he committed another offence, the punishment to which he would be liable for that other offence should be increased in severity. The making himself drunk, in a person whom drunkenness excites to do harm to others, is a crime against others. So, again, idleness, except in a person receiving support from the public, or except when it constitutes a breach of contract, cannot without tyranny be made a subject of legal punishment; but if either from idleness or from any other avoidable cause, a man fails to perform his legal duties to others, as for instance to support his children, it is no tyranny to force him to fulfil that obligation, by compulsory labour, if no other means are available.
Society has a right to protect itself by taking preventive measures. That right sets clear limits on the idea that conduct affecting only oneself should never be prevented or punished. For example, ordinary drunkenness is not a proper target for laws. But it would be legitimate to impose a special legal restriction on someone previously convicted of violence committed while drunk. If he is later found drunk, he could be punished. If, while drunk, he commits another offense, the punishment should be increased. Getting drunk is therefore a crime against others when it makes someone likely to harm them. Similarly, idleness cannot rightly be punished by law, except when a person is receiving public support or breaks a contract. If, through idleness or another avoidable cause, a person fails to meet legal duties to others, that is different. Take child support. If a parent fails to pay, forcing them to work is not tyranny when no other option exists.
Again, there are many acts which, being directly injurious only to the agents themselves, ought not to be legally interdicted, but which, if done publicly, are a violation of good manners and coming thus within the category of offences against others may rightfully be prohibited. Of this kind are offences against decency; on which it is unnecessary to dwell, the rather as they are only connected indirectly with our subject, the objection to publicity being equally strong in the case of many actions not in themselves condemnable, nor supposed to be so.
Again, many actions that harm only the person doing them should not be illegal. But if they are done in public they offend good manners. Being public makes them offenses against others and so they can rightly be prohibited. This includes indecent acts, which I do not need to discuss at length. They are only indirectly related to our topic. The objection to publicity is equally strong for many actions that are not themselves blameworthy, nor thought to be so.
There is another question to which an answer must be found, consistent with the principles which have been laid down. In cases of personal conduct supposed to be blamable, but which respect for liberty precludes society from preventing or punishing, because the evil directly resulting falls wholly on the agent; what the agent is free to do, ought other persons to be equally free to counsel or instigate? This question is not free from difficulty. The case of a person who solicits another to do an act, is not strictly a case of self-regarding conduct. To give advice or offer inducements to any one, is a social act, and may therefore, like actions in general which affect others, be supposed amenable to social control. But a little reflection corrects the first impression, by showing that if the case is not strictly within the definition of individual liberty, yet the reasons on which the principle of individual liberty is grounded, are applicable to it. If people must be allowed, in whatever concerns only themselves, to act as seems best to themselves at their own peril, they must equally be free to consult with one another about what is fit to be so done; to exchange opinions, and give and receive suggestions. Whatever it is permitted to do, it must be permitted to advise to do. The question is doubtful, only when the instigator derives a personal benefit from his advice; when he makes it his occupation, for subsistence or pecuniary gain, to promote what society and the state consider to be an evil. Then, indeed, a new element of complication is introduced; namely, the existence of classes of persons with an interest opposed to what is considered as the public weal, and whose mode of living is grounded on the counteraction of it. Ought this to be interfered with, or not? Fornication, for example, must be tolerated, and so must gambling; but should a person be free to be a pimp, or to keep a gambling-house? The case is one of those which lie on the exact boundary line between two principles, and it is not at once apparent to which of the two it properly belongs. There are arguments on both sides. On the side of toleration it may be said, that the fact of following anything as an occupation, and living or profiting by the practice of it, cannot make that criminal which would otherwise be admissible; that the act should either be consistently permitted or consistently prohibited; that if the principles which we have hitherto defended are true, society has no business, as society, to decide anything to be wrong which concerns only the individual; that it cannot go beyond dissuasion, and that one person should be as free to persuade, as another to dissuade. In opposition to this it may be contended, that although the public, or the State, are not warranted in authoritatively deciding, for purposes of repression or punishment, that such or such conduct affecting only the interests of the individual is good or bad, they are fully justified in assuming, if they regard it as bad, that its being so or not is at least a disputable question: That, this being supposed, they cannot be acting wrongly in endeavouring to exclude the influence of solicitations which are not disinterested, of instigators who cannot possibly be impartial—who have a direct personal interest on one side, and that side the one which the State believes to be wrong, and who confessedly promote it for personal objects only. There can surely, it may be urged, be nothing lost, no sacrifice of good, by so ordering matters that persons shall make their election, either wisely or foolishly, on their own prompting, as free as possible from the arts of persons who stimulate their inclinations for interested purposes of their own. Thus (it may be said) though the statutes respecting unlawful games are utterly indefensible—though all persons should be free to gamble in their own or each other's houses, or in any place of meeting established by their own subscriptions, and open only to the members and their visitors—yet public gambling-houses should not be permitted. It is true that the prohibition is never effectual, and that whatever amount of tyrannical power is given to the police, gambling-houses can always be maintained under other pretences; but they may be compelled to conduct their operations with a certain degree of secrecy and mystery, so that nobody knows anything about them but those who seek them; and more than this, society ought not to aim at. There is considerable force in these arguments; I will not venture to decide whether they are sufficient to justify the moral anomaly of punishing the accessary, when the principal is (and must be) allowed to go free; or fining or imprisoning the procurer, but not the fornicator, the gambling-house keeper, but not the gambler. Still less ought the common operations of buying and selling to be interfered with on analogous grounds. Almost every article which is bought and sold may be used in excess, and the sellers have a pecuniary interest in encouraging that excess; but no argument can be founded on this, in favour, for instance, of the Maine Law; because the class of dealers in strong drinks, though interested in their abuse, are indispensably required for the sake of their legitimate use. The interest, however, of these dealers in promoting intemperance is a real evil, and justifies the State in imposing restrictions and requiring guarantees, which but for that justification would be infringements of legitimate liberty.
There is another question that must be answered in a way consistent with the principles already stated. When a person’s behavior is blamed but respect for liberty prevents society from stopping or punishing it, because the harm falls only on the agent, should other people be equally free to advise or urge that behavior? This is not an easy question. A person who urges another to act is not strictly acting only on themselves. Giving advice or offering inducements is a social act. Like other actions that affect people, it seems open to social control. A little thought, though, changes that first impression. Even if urging someone is not purely individual conduct, the reasons behind individual liberty still apply. If people must be allowed to act as they think best, at their own risk, when only they are affected, they must also be free to consult and advise one another about what to do. They must be able to exchange opinions and give and receive suggestions. Whatever is permitted as an action must be permitted as advice. The problem becomes tricky when the adviser gains personally from their advice. If someone makes a living or money by promoting what society and the state think is wrong, a new complication appears. Then there are whole groups whose interests oppose the public weal, and whose livelihoods depend on promoting that opposition. Should society interfere with that? Fornication, for example, must be tolerated, and so must gambling. But should someone be free to be a pimp or to run a gambling house? This sits on the boundary between two principles, and it is not obvious which principle applies. Arguments exist on both sides. Those in favor of toleration say that following something as an occupation, and profiting from it, cannot make criminal what would otherwise be allowed. The act should be either consistently permitted or consistently prohibited. If the principles we have defended are true, society, as society, has no business deciding that something is wrong when it concerns only the individual. Society cannot go beyond dissuasion. One person should be as free to persuade as another to dissuade. Opponents answer that, although the public or the State cannot rightly decide for purposes of punishment that an individual act is good or bad, they may treat it as at least a debatable question. If they do, they are not wrong to try to block solicitations that are not disinterested. They can try to exclude instigators who cannot be impartial, who have a direct personal interest in the side the State thinks wrong, and who openly promote it for personal gain. It may be argued that nothing of value is lost by arranging matters so people make their choices, wisely or foolishly, as free as possible from the manipulative arts of those who stoke desires for their own gain. So, some say, although laws against unlawful games are indefensible and people should be free to gamble in private homes or in subscription clubs, public gambling houses should not be allowed. True, prohibition is often ineffective, and no amount of police power can entirely stop gambling houses from operating under other pretenses. Still, they can be forced to operate with secrecy and mystery so only those who seek them know about them. That, proponents argue, is all society should aim for. These arguments have real force. I will not decide whether they justify the moral oddity of punishing the accessory while letting the principal go free, or of fining or imprisoning the procurer but not the fornicator, the gambling-house keeper but not the gambler. Nor should ordinary buying and selling be interfered with on the same grounds. Almost every item bought and sold can be misused, and sellers profit from encouraging excess. But that does not justify, for example, the Maine Law. Dealers in strong drink, though interested in its abuse, are necessary for its legitimate use. Still, the dealers’ interest in promoting intemperance is a real harm. It justifies the State in imposing restrictions and requiring safeguards that, without that justification, would violate legitimate liberty.
A further question is, whether the State, while it permits, should nevertheless indirectly discourage conduct which it deems contrary to the best interests of the agent; whether, for example, it should take measures to render the means of drunkenness more costly, or add to the difficulty of procuring them, by limiting the number of the places of sale. On this as on most other practical questions, many distinctions require to be made. To tax stimulants for the sole purpose of making them more difficult to be obtained, is a measure differing only in degree from their entire prohibition; and would be justifiable only if that were justifiable. Every increase of cost is a prohibition, to those whose means do not come up to the augmented price; and to those who do, it is a penalty laid on them for gratifying a particular taste. Their choice of pleasures, and their mode of expending their income, after satisfying their legal and moral obligations to the State and to individuals, are their own concern, and must rest with their own judgment. These considerations may seem at first sight to condemn the selection of stimulants as special subjects of taxation for purposes of revenue. But it must be remembered that taxation for fiscal purposes is absolutely inevitable; that in most countries it is necessary that a considerable part of that taxation should be indirect; that the State, therefore, cannot help imposing penalties, which to some persons may be prohibitory, on the use of some articles of consumption. It is hence the duty of the State to consider, in the imposition of taxes, what commodities the consumers can best spare; and à fortiori, to select in preference those of which it deems the use, beyond a very moderate quantity, to be positively injurious. Taxation, therefore, of stimulants, up to the point which produces the largest amount of revenue (supposing that the State needs all the revenue which it yields) is not only admissible, but to be approved of.
A further question is whether the State, while permitting conduct, should still try to discourage it indirectly when it believes that conduct harms the person. Should the State, for example, make drunkenness harder to obtain by raising its cost or by limiting the number of places that sell it? Like most practical questions, this one needs many distinctions. Taxing stimulants solely to make them harder to get differs only in degree from banning them outright. It would only be acceptable if banning them outright were acceptable. Any price increase acts as a prohibition for people who cannot afford the higher price. For those who can pay, it is a penalty for satisfying a particular taste. After meeting their legal and moral duties to the State and to others, people alone should decide their pleasures and how to spend their money. At first glance, this might rule out choosing stimulants as a special target for revenue taxes. But we must remember that taxation is unavoidable. In most countries, a large share of taxes must be indirect. As a result, the State unavoidably imposes charges that may function as prohibitions for some people on certain consumer goods. Therefore the State should consider which goods consumers can most easily do without when choosing taxes, and à fortiori, should prefer taxing goods whose use, beyond a small amount, it regards as actively harmful. So taxing stimulants up to the point that maximizes revenue (assuming the State needs that revenue) is not only acceptable but desirable.
The question of making the sale of these commodities a more or less exclusive privilege, must be answered differently, according to the purposes to which the restriction is intended to be subservient. All places of public resort require the restraint of a police, and places of this kind peculiarly, because offences against society are especially apt to originate there. It is, therefore, fit to confine the power of selling these commodities (at least for consumption on the spot) to persons of known or vouched-for respectability of conduct; to make such regulations respecting hours of opening and closing as may be requisite for public surveillance, and to withdraw the licence if breaches of the peace repeatedly take place through the connivance or incapacity of the keeper of the house, or if it becomes a rendezvous for concocting and preparing offences against the law. Any further restriction I do not conceive to be, in principle, justifiable. The limitation in number, for instance, of beer and spirit-houses, for the express purpose of rendering them more difficult of access, and diminishing the occasions of temptation, not only exposes all to an inconvenience because there are some by whom the facility would be abused, but is suited only to a state of society in which the labouring classes are avowedly treated as children or savages, and placed under an education of restraint, to fit them for future admission to the privileges of freedom. This is not the principle on which the labouring classes are professedly governed in any free country; and no person who sets due value on freedom will give his adhesion to their being so governed, unless after all efforts have been exhausted to educate them for freedom and govern them as freemen, and it has been definitively proved that they can only be governed as children. The bare statement of the alternative shows the absurdity of supposing that such efforts have been made in any case which needs be considered here. It is only because the institutions of this country are a mass of inconsistencies, that things find admittance into our practice which belong to the system of despotic, or what is called paternal, government, while the general freedom of our institutions precludes the exercise of the amount of control necessary to render the restraint of any real efficacy as a moral education.
Whether selling these goods should be made an exclusive privilege depends on the purpose of the restriction. Public gathering places need police oversight. Especially these places, since crimes often begin there. Therefore, it is appropriate to limit the right to sell these goods, at least for on-site consumption, to people of known or vouched-for respectable behavior. Regulate opening and closing hours so the public can supervise. Revoke a licence if repeated breaches of the peace occur because the keeper allows them or cannot prevent them. Also revoke the licence if the place becomes a meeting spot for planning crimes. I do not think any further restrictions are justifiable in principle. Limiting the number of pubs and bars, simply to make them harder to reach and reduce temptation, inconveniences everyone. It punishes all because some would abuse easier access. Such a policy only fits a society that openly treats the working classes like children or savages and keeps them under a regime of restraint to prepare them for later freedom. This is not how the working classes are supposedly governed in any free country. No one who values freedom will accept such governance unless every effort to educate them for freedom has been exhausted, and it has been definitively proved they can only be governed like children. Just stating that alternative shows how absurd it is to assume those efforts have actually been tried in any case relevant here. Only because our institutions are full of inconsistencies do we accept measures from despotic or so-called paternal government, while our general freedom prevents us from exerting enough control to make such restraints effective as moral education.
It was pointed out in an early part of this Essay, that the liberty of the individual, in things wherein the individual is alone concerned, implies a corresponding liberty in any number of individuals to regulate by mutual agreement such things as regard them jointly, and regard no persons but themselves. This question presents no difficulty, so long as the will of all the persons implicated remains unaltered; but since that will may change, it is often necessary, even in things in which they alone are concerned, that they should enter into engagements with one another; and when they do, it is fit, as a general rule, that those engagements should be kept. Yet in the laws, probably, of every country, this general rule has some exceptions. Not only persons are not held to engagements which violate the rights of third parties, but it is sometimes considered a sufficient reason for releasing them from an engagement, that it is injurious to themselves. In this and most other civilised countries, for example, an engagement by which a person should sell himself, or allow himself to be sold, as a slave, would be null and void; neither enforced by law nor by opinion. The ground for thus limiting his power of voluntarily disposing of his own lot in life, is apparent, and is very clearly seen in this extreme case. The reason for not interfering, unless for the sake of others, with a person's voluntary acts, is consideration for his liberty. His voluntary choice is evidence that what he so chooses is desirable, or at the least endurable, to him, and his good is on the whole best provided for by allowing him to take his own means of pursuing it. But by selling himself for a slave, he abdicates his liberty; he foregoes any future use of it, beyond that single act. He therefore defeats, in his own case, the very purpose which is the justification of allowing him to dispose of himself. He is no longer free; but is thenceforth in a position which has no longer the presumption in its favour, that would be afforded by his voluntarily remaining in it. The principle of freedom cannot require that he should be free not to be free. It is not freedom, to be allowed to alienate his freedom. These reasons, the force of which is so conspicuous in this peculiar case, are evidently of far wider application; yet a limit is everywhere set to them by the necessities of life, which continually require, not indeed that we should resign our freedom, but that we should consent to this and the other limitation of it. The principle, however, which demands uncontrolled freedom of action in all that concerns only the agents themselves, requires that those who have become bound to one another, in things which concern no third party, should be able to release one another from the engagement: and even without such voluntary release, there are perhaps no contracts or engagements, except those that relate to money or money's worth, of which one can venture to say that there ought to be no liberty whatever of retractation. Baron Wilhelm von Humboldt, in the excellent essay from which I have already quoted, states it as his conviction, that engagements which involve personal relations or services, should never be legally binding beyond a limited duration of time; and that the most important of these engagements, marriage, having the peculiarity that its objects are frustrated unless the feelings of both the parties are in harmony with it, should require nothing more than the declared will of either party to dissolve it. This subject is too important, and too complicated, to be discussed in a parenthesis, and I touch on it only so far as is necessary for purposes of illustration. If the conciseness and generality of Baron Humboldt's dissertation had not obliged him in this instance to content himself with enunciating his conclusion without discussing the premises, he would doubtless have recognised that the question cannot be decided on grounds so simple as those to which he confines himself. When a person, either by express promise or by conduct, has encouraged another to rely upon his continuing to act in a certain way—to build expectations and calculations, and stake any part of his plan of life upon that supposition, a new series of moral obligations arises on his part towards that person, which may possibly be overruled, but cannot be ignored. And again, if the relation between two contracting parties has been followed by consequences to others; if it has placed third parties in any peculiar position, or, as in the case of marriage, has even called third parties into existence, obligations arise on the part of both the contracting parties towards those third persons, the fulfilment of which, or at all events the mode of fulfilment, must be greatly affected by the continuance or disruption of the relation between the original parties to the contract. It does not follow, nor can I admit, that these obligations extend to requiring the fulfilment of the contract at all costs to the happiness of the reluctant party; but they are a necessary element in the question; and even if, as Von Humboldt maintains, they ought to make no difference in the legal freedom of the parties to release themselves from the engagement (and I also hold that they ought not to make much difference), they necessarily make a great difference in the moral freedom. A person is bound to take all these circumstances into account, before resolving on a step which may affect such important interests of others; and if he does not allow proper weight to those interests, he is morally responsible for the wrong. I have made these obvious remarks for the better illustration of the general principle of liberty, and not because they are at all needed on the particular question, which, on the contrary, is usually discussed as if the interest of children was everything, and that of grown persons nothing.
Earlier in this essay I said that an individual's freedom in matters that affect only that person implies a matching freedom for any group to arrange, by mutual agreement, matters that affect only them. This is straightforward while everyone's will stays the same. But wills can change. For that reason, even on matters that concern only themselves, people often need to make commitments to one another. When they do, the general rule is that those commitments should be kept. Still, every legal system probably allows exceptions to this rule. People are not held to promises that violate the rights of third parties. Sometimes a promise is set aside because it harms the person who made it. For example, in most civilized countries a contract by which a person sells themselves, or allows themselves to be sold as a slave, is null and void. Neither law nor public opinion enforces such a bargain. The reason for limiting a person's power to dispose of their own life is clear in this extreme case. We do not interfere with a person's voluntary acts unless others are harmed, out of respect for liberty. A voluntary choice shows that the option is desirable, or at least tolerable, to that person. Letting people choose for themselves usually serves their welfare best. By selling himself into slavery, a person gives up his liberty. He renounces any future use of it beyond that one act. He therefore defeats the very purpose that justifies letting him dispose of himself. After the sale, he is no longer free. The fact that he once consented no longer creates a presumption in favor of his condition. Freedom cannot demand the right to be free and not free at the same time. It is not freedom to be allowed to give away your freedom. The force of these reasons in the slave case applies more broadly. Still, everyday life sets limits. We often must accept certain restrictions on our freedom to live and cooperate with others. The principle that people should have uncontrolled freedom in matters that affect only themselves also implies that those who bind themselves to one another on matters that concern no third party should be able to release one another from the agreement. Even without such mutual release, very few contracts, apart from those about money or its equivalent, should be immune from any right of retraction. Baron Wilhelm von Humboldt, in the fine essay I quoted earlier, argues that agreements involving personal relations or services should not be legally binding beyond a limited time. He also says that marriage, because it fails unless both parties' feelings are in harmony with it, should be dissolvable by the declared will of either spouse. This topic is too important and too complex to cover in a brief note. I only mention it to illustrate a point. If Baron von Humboldt had had space to discuss his reasons, he would have seen that the issue cannot be settled on such simple grounds. When someone, by promise or by conduct, encourages another to rely on their continued behavior, they create new moral obligations. The other person may build expectations, plans, or stake part of their life on that reliance. Those obligations can sometimes be overridden, but they cannot be ignored. Similarly, if a contract between two people has consequences for others, or puts third parties in a special position, obligations arise toward those third parties. Marriage, for example, can bring third parties into existence. How those obligations are met, or even their very existence, depends greatly on whether the original relationship continues or breaks up. That does not mean, and I will not admit, that the obligations require enforcing the contract at any cost to the unhappy party. These obligations are, however, a necessary part of the question. Even if, as von Humboldt thinks, they should make no difference to the parties' legal freedom to release themselves from the agreement (and I think they should not make much difference), they do make a large difference to the parties' moral freedom. A person must consider all these circumstances before taking a step that may affect important interests of others. If they fail to give those interests proper weight, they are morally responsible for the harm. I offer these obvious observations to clarify the general principle of liberty. I do not claim they are needed to settle the specific question here. That question is usually treated as if children's interests were everything and adults' interests were nothing.
I have already observed that, owing to the absence of any recognised general principles, liberty is often granted where it should be withheld, as well as withheld where it should be granted; and one of the cases in which, in the modern European world, the sentiment of liberty is the strongest, is a case where, in my view, it is altogether misplaced. A person should be free to do as he likes in his own concerns; but he ought not to be free to do as he likes in acting for another, under the pretext that the affairs of another are his own affairs. The State, while it respects the liberty of each in what specially regards himself, is bound to maintain a vigilant control over his exercise of any power which it allows him to possess over others. This obligation is almost entirely disregarded in the case of the family relations, a case, in its direct influence on human happiness, more important than all others taken together. The almost despotic power of husbands over wives need not be enlarged upon here because nothing more is needed for the complete removal of the evil, than that wives should have the same rights, and should receive the protection of law in the same manner, as all other persons; and because, on this subject, the defenders of established injustice do not avail themselves of the plea of liberty, but stand forth openly as the champions of power. It is in the case of children, that misapplied notions of liberty are a real obstacle to the fulfilment by the State of its duties. One would almost think that a man's children were supposed to be literally, and not metaphorically, a part of himself, so jealous is opinion of the smallest interference of law with his absolute and exclusive control over them; more jealous than of almost any interference with his own freedom of action: so much less do the generality of mankind value liberty than power. Consider, for example, the case of education. Is it not almost a self-evident axiom, that the State should require and compel the education, up to a certain standard, of every human being who is born its citizen? Yet who is there that is not afraid to recognise and assert this truth? Hardly any one indeed will deny that it is one of the most sacred duties of the parents (or, as law and usage now stand, the father), after summoning a human being into the world, to give to that being an education fitting him to perform his part well in life towards others and towards himself. But while this is unanimously declared to be the father's duty, scarcely anybody, in this country, will bear to hear of obliging him to perform it. Instead of his being required to make any exertion or sacrifice for securing education to the child, it is left to his choice to accept it or not when it is provided gratis! It still remains unrecognised, that to bring a child into existence without a fair prospect of being able, not only to provide food for its body, but instruction and training for its mind, is a moral crime, both against the unfortunate offspring and against society; and that if the parent does not fulfil this obligation, the State ought to see it fulfilled, at the charge, as far as possible, of the parent.
I have already said that, because we lack clear general principles, freedom is often given where it should be denied, and denied where it should be given. One clear example in modern Europe shows this. People demand liberty in a situation where I think it is completely misplaced. A person should be free to act as they wish in their own affairs. They should not be free to act as they please when they act for someone else, claiming another's affairs are their own. The State must respect each person's freedom in matters that only concern them. But it must closely watch any power it allows someone to have over others. This duty is mostly ignored in family relationships. Those relationships affect human happiness more than any others. We need not dwell on the near-despotic power some husbands have over their wives. The remedy is simple. Wives should have the same rights and the same legal protection as everyone else. Those who defend this injustice do not hide behind liberty. They openly defend power. But with children, mistaken ideas about liberty truly prevent the State from doing its duty. People behave as if a person's children are literally part of them, not just a metaphor. Public opinion fiercely objects to any legal interference with a father's absolute control over his children. This resistance is often stronger than opposition to limits on his own personal freedom. Most people value power more than liberty. Take education. Isn't it obvious that the State should require every citizen to receive education up to a certain standard? Yet who will openly admit this? Almost no one denies that parents—or, under current law and custom, the father—have a sacred duty. After bringing a child into the world, they must give that child an education that prepares them to live well and responsibly. But although everyone says this is the father's duty, few in this country will accept forcing him to carry it out. Instead of making him take the necessary effort or sacrifice to secure the child's education, we leave it up to him to accept it or not when education is offered free. We still refuse to admit that bringing a child into the world without a real prospect of providing not only food but mental instruction and training is a moral wrong. It harms both the child and society. If a parent fails in this duty, the State should make sure it is fulfilled, and should, as far as possible, recover the cost from the parent.
Were the duty of enforcing universal education once admitted, there would be an end to the difficulties about what the State should teach, and how it should teach, which now convert the subject into a mere battle-field for sects and parties, causing the time and labour which should have been spent in educating, to be wasted in quarrelling about education. If the government would make up its mind to require for every child a good education, it might save itself the trouble of providing one. It might leave to parents to obtain the education where and how they pleased, and content itself with helping to pay the school fees of the poorer class of children, and defraying the entire school expenses of those who have no one else to pay for them. The objections which are urged with reason against State education, do not apply to the enforcement of education by the State, but to the State's taking upon itself to direct that education; which is a totally different thing. That the whole or any large part of the education of the people should be in State hands, I go as far as any one in deprecating. All that has been said of the importance of individuality of character, and diversity in opinions and modes of conduct, involves, as of the same unspeakable importance, diversity of education. A general State education is a mere contrivance for moulding people to be exactly like one another; and as the mould in which it casts them is that which pleases the predominant power in the government, whether this be a monarch, a priesthood, an aristocracy, or the majority of the existing generation, in proportion as it is efficient and successful, it establishes a despotism over the mind, leading by natural tendency to one over the body. An education established and controlled by the State, should only exist, if it exist at all, as one among many competing experiments, carried on for the purpose of example and stimulus, to keep the others up to a certain standard of excellence. Unless, indeed, when society in general is in so backward a state that it could not or would not provide for itself any proper institutions of education, unless the government undertook the task; then, indeed, the government may, as the less of two great evils, take upon itself the business of schools and universities, as it may that of joint stock companies, when private enterprise, in a shape fitted for undertaking great works of industry, does not exist in the country. But in general, if the country contains a sufficient number of persons qualified to provide education under government auspices, the same persons would be able and willing to give an equally good education on the voluntary principle, under the assurance of remuneration afforded by a law rendering education compulsory, combined with State aid to those unable to defray the expense.
If people accepted that the State must enforce universal education, the arguments about what and how the State should teach would end. Right now those issues turn education into a battlefield for sects and parties. Time and effort that should go to teaching are wasted on quarrels. If the government would make up its mind to require for every child a good education, it might save itself the trouble of providing one. The government could let parents choose where and how to educate their children. It could simply help pay school fees for poorer children and cover the full costs for those who have no one else to pay. The reasonable objections to State education do not apply to the State enforcing education. They apply to the State directing and controlling the content. That is a very different matter. I strongly oppose putting all, or most, education in the State's hands. The value of individuality, diverse opinions, and different ways of living also requires diverse kinds of education. A general State education is a device for making people alike. The mould it uses reflects the preferences of whoever holds power—whether a monarch, a priesthood, an aristocracy, or the majority of the current generation. The more effective that mould is, the more it creates a despotism of the mind, and that mental despotism naturally tends to become one over the body. State-controlled education should exist, if at all, only as one among many competing experiments. It should serve as an example and a stimulus to keep the others at a decent standard. Only if society is so backward that it cannot or will not create proper educational institutions should the government step in. In that case the government may, as the lesser of two evils, run schools and universities, much as it may run joint stock companies when private enterprise cannot undertake major industrial works. But generally, if a country has enough people able to provide education under government support, those same people could give an equally good education voluntarily. That would work if a law made education compulsory and guaranteed payment, combined with State aid for those who cannot afford it.
The instrument for enforcing the law could be no other than public examinations, extending to all children, and beginning at an early age. An age might be fixed at which every child must be examined, to ascertain if he (or she) is able to read. If a child proves unable, the father, unless he has some sufficient ground of excuse, might be subjected to a moderate fine, to be worked out, if necessary, by his labour, and the child might be put to school at his expense. Once in every year the examination should be renewed, with a gradually extending range of subjects, so as to make the universal acquisition, and what is more, retention, of a certain minimum of general knowledge, virtually compulsory. Beyond that minimum, there should be voluntary examinations on all subjects, at which all who come up to a certain standard of proficiency might claim a certificate. To prevent the State from exercising, through these arrangements, an improper influence over opinion, the knowledge required for passing an examination (beyond the merely instrumental parts of knowledge, such as languages and their use) should, even in the higher class of examinations, be confined to facts and positive science exclusively. The examinations on religion, politics, or other disputed topics, should not turn on the truth or falsehood of opinions, but on the matter of fact that such and such an opinion is held, on such grounds, by such authors, or schools, or churches. Under this system, the rising generation would be no worse off in regard to all disputed truths, than they are at present; they would be brought up either churchmen or dissenters as they now are, the state merely taking care that they should be instructed churchmen, or instructed dissenters. There would be nothing to hinder them from being taught religion, if their parents chose, at the same schools where they were taught other things. All attempts by the state to bias the conclusions of its citizens on disputed subjects, are evil; but it may very properly offer to ascertain and certify that a person possesses the knowledge, requisite to make his conclusions, on any given subject, worth attending to. A student of philosophy would be the better for being able to stand an examination both in Locke and in Kant, whichever of the two he takes up with, or even if with neither: and there is no reasonable objection to examining an atheist in the evidences of Christianity, provided he is not required to profess a belief in them. The examinations, however, in the higher branches of knowledge should, I conceive, be entirely voluntary. It would be giving too dangerous a power to governments, were they allowed to exclude any one from professions, even from the profession of teacher, for alleged deficiency of qualifications: and I think, with Wilhelm von Humboldt, that degrees, or other public certificates of scientific or professional acquirements, should be given to all who present themselves for examination, and stand the test; but that such certificates should confer no advantage over competitors, other than the weight which may be attached to their testimony by public opinion.
The only practical way to enforce the law would be public examinations for all children. These should start at an early age. A specific age could be set when every child must be tested to see if they can read. If a child cannot read, the father could face a moderate fine unless he has a good excuse. He might work it off by labour if needed, and the child could be sent to school at his expense. The test should be repeated every year. Its scope would gradually widen. This would make the acquisition, and importantly the retention, of a basic general education virtually compulsory. Beyond that minimum, exams in other subjects should be voluntary. Anyone who meets a set standard could claim a certificate. To prevent the State from using this system to influence opinion, exam content should be limited. Apart from practical skills like language use, even higher exams should require only facts and positive science. Tests on religion, politics, or other disputed topics should not judge opinions as true or false. They should test facts. For example, they should ask which authors, schools, or churches hold a given opinion and on what grounds. Under this system, the next generation would be no worse off on disputed questions than they are now. They would still be raised as church members or dissenters, as they are today, the State only making sure they were instructed churchmen or instructed dissenters. If parents choose, their children could be taught religion at the same schools where they learn other subjects. It is wrong for the State to try to shape citizens’ conclusions on disputed matters. But the State can rightly certify that someone has the knowledge needed to make their conclusions on a subject worth considering. A philosophy student would benefit from being able to pass exams in both Locke and Kant, whichever they study, or even if they study neither. There is no reasonable objection to testing an atheist on the evidence for Christianity, provided they are not required to profess belief. I believe exams in advanced subjects should be entirely voluntary. Allowing governments to bar anyone from a profession, even teaching, for alleged lack of qualifications would be too dangerous. I agree with Wilhelm von Humboldt that anyone who takes an exam and passes should receive a degree or certificate. Those certificates should not give legal advantages over competitors. They should only carry whatever weight public opinion chooses to attach to them.
It is not in the matter of education only, that misplaced notions of liberty prevent moral obligations on the part of parents from being recognised, and legal obligations from being imposed, where there are the strongest grounds for the former always, and in many cases for the latter also. The fact itself, of causing the existence of a human being, is one of the most responsible actions in the range of human life. To undertake this responsibility—to bestow a life which may be either a curse or a blessing—unless the being on whom it is to be bestowed will have at least the ordinary chances of a desirable existence, is a crime against that being. And in a country either over-peopled, or threatened with being so, to produce children, beyond a very small number, with the effect of reducing the reward of labour by their competition, is a serious offence against all who live by the remuneration of their labour. The laws which, in many countries on the Continent, forbid marriage unless the parties can show that they have the means of supporting a family, do not exceed the legitimate powers of the state: and whether such laws be expedient or not (a question mainly dependent on local circumstances and feelings), they are not objectionable as violations of liberty. Such laws are interferences of the state to prohibit a mischievous act—an act injurious to others, which ought to be a subject of reprobation, and social stigma, even when it is not deemed expedient to superadd legal punishment. Yet the current ideas of liberty, which bend so easily to real infringements of the freedom of the individual, in things which concern only himself, would repel the attempt to put any restraint upon his inclinations when the consequence of their indulgence is a life, or lives, of wretchedness and depravity to the offspring, with manifold evils to those sufficiently within reach to be in any way affected by their actions. When we compare the strange respect of mankind for liberty, with their strange want of respect for it, we might imagine that a man had an indispensable right to do harm to others, and no right at all to please himself without giving pain to any one.
Misplaced ideas about liberty do more than affect education. They stop parents' moral responsibilities from being recognized and prevent legal duties from being imposed. This happens even when the moral case is strong, and often when legal duties are justified. Bringing a human being into existence is one of the most serious responsibilities a person can take on. To accept that responsibility and give life without ensuring the child has at least the ordinary chance of a decent existence is a crime against that child. In an overpopulated country, or one heading that way, having more than a few children can harm others. If extra children lower wages by increasing competition for work, that wrongs everyone who depends on labor income. Laws in many Continental countries that bar marriage unless couples can show they can support a family do not exceed the state's legitimate powers. Whether such laws are wise depends on local circumstances and opinions. But they are not violations of liberty. These laws aim to stop a harmful act. They prevent conduct that injures others. Society should condemn and stigmatize it, even if adding legal punishment is not thought practical. Yet modern ideas of liberty are inconsistent. They readily accept real infringements on individual freedom in matters that only concern the person, but they reject any restraint when those private choices result in lives of misery and moral ruin for the children. Those children then bring many harms to people within reach of their actions. Comparing people's odd reverence for liberty with their equal lack of respect for it, we might conclude they think a person has an unquestionable right to harm others, but no right to enjoy himself so long as he hurts no one.
I have reserved for the last place a large class of questions respecting the limits of government interference, which, though closely connected with the subject of this Essay, do not, in strictness, belong to it. These are cases in which the reasons against interference do not turn upon the principle of liberty: the question is not about restraining the actions of individuals, but about helping them: it is asked whether the government should do, or cause to be done, something for their benefit, instead of leaving it to be done by themselves, individually, or in voluntary combination.
I have saved for last a broad group of questions about how far government should interfere. These questions are closely linked to this Essay, but strictly speaking they do not belong to it. They involve cases where the arguments against interference are not about the principle of liberty. The issue is not about limiting people's actions. It is about whether government should help them. We must ask if the government should do, or arrange to have done, something for their benefit. Or should it leave the work to people themselves, acting alone or in voluntary groups.
The objections to government interference, when it is not such as to involve infringement of liberty, may be of three kinds.
Objections to government interference fall into three kinds. I mean cases where the interference does not amount to an infringement of liberty.
The first is, when the thing to be done is likely to be better done by individuals than by the government. Speaking generally, there is no one so fit to conduct any business, or to determine how or by whom it shall be conducted, as those who are personally interested in it. This principle condemns the interferences, once so common, of the legislature, or the officers of government, with the ordinary processes of industry. But this part of the subject has been sufficiently enlarged upon by political economists, and is not particularly related to the principles of this Essay.
The first case is when something will probably be done better by individuals than by the government. Generally, those with a personal stake are best placed to run any business. They also know how it should be run and who should run it. This idea rejects the old practice of the legislature or officers of government interfering in the ordinary processes of industry. Political economists have already explored this topic in detail. It does not particularly relate to the principles of this Essay.
The second objection is more nearly allied to our subject. In many cases, though individuals may not do the particular thing so well, on the average, as the officers of government, it is nevertheless desirable that it should be done by them, rather than by the government, as a means to their own mental education—a mode of strengthening their active faculties, exercising their judgment, and giving them a familiar knowledge of the subjects with which they are thus left to deal. This is a principal, though not the sole, recommendation of jury trial (in cases not political); of free and popular local and municipal institutions; of the conduct of industrial and philanthropic enterprises by voluntary associations. These are not questions of liberty, and are connected with that subject only by remote tendencies; but they are questions of development. It belongs to a different occasion from the present to dwell on these things as parts of national education; as being, in truth, the peculiar training of a citizen, the practical part of the political education of a free people, taking them out of the narrow circle of personal and family selfishness, and accustoming them to the comprehension of joint interests, the management of joint concerns—habituating them to act from public or semi-public motives, and guide their conduct by aims which unite instead of isolating them from one another. Without these habits and powers, a free constitution can neither be worked nor preserved, as is exemplified by the too-often transitory nature of political freedom in countries where it does not rest upon a sufficient basis of local liberties. The management of purely local business by the localities, and of the great enterprises of industry by the union of those who voluntarily supply the pecuniary means, is further recommended by all the advantages which have been set forth in this Essay as belonging to individuality of development, and diversity of modes of action. Government operations tend to be everywhere alike. With individuals and voluntary associations, on the contrary, there are varied experiments, and endless diversity of experience. What the State can usefully do, is to make itself a central depository, and active circulator and diffuser, of the experience resulting from many trials. Its business is to enable each experimentalist to benefit by the experiments of others, instead of tolerating no experiments but its own.
The second objection is more closely related to our topic. In many cases, individuals may not perform a task as well as government officers on average. Even so, it is often better that they do the work themselves than have the government do it. This helps their mental development. It strengthens their active abilities, exercises their judgment, and gives them practical knowledge of the issues they must handle. This is a main reason for jury trials in non-political cases and for free local governments. It also supports running industrial and philanthropic projects through voluntary associations. These are not mainly questions of liberty. They relate to liberty only indirectly. They are mainly questions about development. That topic needs a different occasion to fully address. Still, these practices are the real training of citizens. They are the practical side of political education for a free people. They pull people out of narrow personal and family selfishness. They teach people to understand shared interests and to manage common concerns. They train people to act from public or semi-public motives. They guide behavior toward goals that unite people instead of isolating them. Without these habits and powers, a free constitution cannot function or last. This shows why political freedom is often short-lived where local liberties are weak. Local matters should be managed by local communities. Big industrial ventures should be run by those who voluntarily provide the funding. This approach is supported by advantages discussed earlier in this Essay. Those advantages favor individual development and a variety of ways to act. Government operations tend to be alike everywhere. Individuals and voluntary groups, by contrast, try many different experiments and gather diverse experience. The State can usefully act as a central store and spreader of the lessons from many trials. Its role is to allow each experimenter to learn from others' trials instead of permitting only its own experiments.
The third, and most cogent reason for restricting the interference of government, is the great evil of adding unnecessarily to its power. Every function superadded to those already exercised by the government, causes its influence over hopes and fears to be more widely diffused, and converts, more and more, the active and ambitious part of the public into hangers-on of the government, or of some party which aims at becoming the government. If the roads, the railways, the banks, the insurance offices, the great joint-stock companies, the universities, and the public charities, were all of them branches of the government; if, in addition, the municipal corporations and local boards, with all that now devolves on them, became departments of the central administration; if the employés of all these different enterprises were appointed and paid by the government, and looked to the government for every rise in life; not all the freedom of the press and popular constitution of the legislature would make this or any other country free otherwise than in name. And the evil would be greater, the more efficiently and scientifically the administrative machinery was constructed—the more skilful the arrangements for obtaining the best qualified hands and heads with which to work it. In England it has of late been proposed that all the members of the civil service of government should be selected by competitive examination, to obtain for those employments the most intelligent and instructed persons procurable; and much has been said and written for and against this proposal. One of the arguments most insisted on by its opponents, is that the occupation of a permanent official servant of the State does not hold out sufficient prospects of emolument and importance to attract the highest talents, which will always be able to find a more inviting career in the professions, or in the service of companies and other public bodies. One would not have been surprised if this argument had been used by the friends of the proposition, as an answer to its principal difficulty. Coming from the opponents it is strange enough. What is urged as an objection is the safety-valve of the proposed system. If indeed all the high talent of the country could be drawn into the service of the government, a proposal tending to bring about that result might well inspire uneasiness. If every part of the business of society which required organised concert, or large and comprehensive views, were in the hands of the government, and if government offices were universally filled by the ablest men, all the enlarged culture and practised intelligence in the country, except the purely speculative, would be concentrated in a numerous bureaucracy, to whom alone the rest of the community would look for all things: the multitude for direction and dictation in all they had to do; the able and aspiring for personal advancement. To be admitted into the ranks of this bureaucracy, and when admitted, to rise therein, would be the sole objects of ambition. Under this régime, not only is the outside public ill-qualified, for want of practical experience, to criticise or check the mode of operation of the bureaucracy, but even if the accidents of despotic or the natural working of popular institutions occasionally raise to the summit a ruler or rulers of reforming inclinations, no reform can be effected which is contrary to the interest of the bureaucracy. Such is the melancholy condition of the Russian empire, as is shown in the accounts of those who have had sufficient opportunity of observation. The Czar himself is powerless against the bureaucratic body; he can send any one of them to Siberia, but he cannot govern without them, or against their will. On every decree of his they have a tacit veto, by merely refraining from carrying it into effect. In countries of more advanced civilisation and of a more insurrectionary spirit, the public, accustomed to expect everything to be done for them by the State, or at least to do nothing for themselves without asking from the State not only leave to do it, but even how it is to be done, naturally hold the State responsible for all evil which befalls them, and when the evil exceeds their amount of patience, they rise against the government and make what is called a revolution; whereupon somebody else, with or without legitimate authority from the nation, vaults into the seat, issues his orders to the bureaucracy, and everything goes on much as it did before; the bureaucracy being unchanged, and nobody else being capable of taking their place.
The third and strongest reason to limit government interference is the danger of unnecessarily increasing its power. Every function added to what the government already does spreads its influence over people's hopes and fears. It turns more and more of the active, ambitious part of the public into hangers-on of the government, or of some party that aims to become the government. If roads, railways, banks, insurance offices, big joint-stock companies, universities, and public charities were all branches of the government, and if municipal corporations and local boards became departments of the central administration, and if the employees of these enterprises were appointed and paid by the government and expected the government to secure every promotion, then not even a free press and an elected legislature would make the country truly free except in name. The harm would be worse the more efficiently and scientifically the administrative system was built. The better the arrangements for getting the most qualified people to run it, the worse the danger. In England it was recently proposed that all civil servants be chosen by competitive exams to secure the most intelligent and educated people for these jobs. Much has been said for and against this idea. Opponents insist that a permanent state official's job does not offer enough pay or importance to attract top talent. The best people can always find more attractive careers in the professions or in private companies and other public bodies. It would not have surprised anyone if supporters had used that point as an answer to the main difficulty. It is odd that opponents use it. What they call an objection is really the safety valve of the proposal. If indeed all the high talent of the country could be drawn into government service, a plan that pushed toward that result would rightly cause unease. If every part of society that needs coordinated action or broad planning were in government hands, and if government offices were filled by the ablest people, then most practical skill and experience in the country would be concentrated in a large bureaucracy. Only purely speculative thinkers would be outside it. The rest of the community would look to that bureaucracy for everything. Ordinary people would want direction and orders. The capable and ambitious would seek personal advancement through it. Entry into that bureaucracy, and promotion within it, would become the main goals of ambition. Under this regime, the public outside it would lack the practical experience to critique or restrain the bureaucracy's operations. Even if, by chance or by the normal working of political institutions, reform-minded rulers reach power, no reform that goes against the bureaucracy's interests can succeed. This is the sad state of the Russian empire, according to those who have observed it closely. The Czar himself is powerless against the bureaucratic body. He can exile any one of them to Siberia, but he cannot govern without them or against their will. They can effectively veto any decree by simply refusing to carry it out. In countries with more advanced civilization and a stronger tendency to revolt, the public becomes used to expecting everything from the state. Or they do nothing for themselves without first asking the state not only for permission, but for instructions on how to do it. They hold the state responsible for every harm that befalls them. When their patience runs out, they rise in revolt and stage what is called a revolution. Then someone else, with or without legitimate authority, jumps into power and issues orders to the bureaucracy. Things often go on much as before. The bureaucracy remains unchanged, and no one else is able to take its place.
A very different spectacle is exhibited among a people accustomed to transact their own business. In France, a large part of the people having been engaged in military service, many of whom have held at least the rank of non-commissioned officers, there are in every popular insurrection several persons competent to take the lead, and improvise some tolerable plan of action. What the French are in military affairs, the Americans are in every kind of civil business; let them be left without a government, every body of Americans is able to improvise one, and to carry on that or any other public business with a sufficient amount of intelligence, order, and decision. This is what every free people ought to be: and a people capable of this is certain to be free; it will never let itself be enslaved by any man or body of men because these are able to seize and pull the reins of the central administration. No bureaucracy can hope to make such a people as this do or undergo anything that they do not like. But where everything is done through the bureaucracy, nothing to which the bureaucracy is really adverse can be done at all. The constitution of such countries is an organisation of the experience and practical ability of the nation, into a disciplined body for the purpose of governing the rest; and the more perfect that organisation is in itself, the more successful in drawing to itself and educating for itself the persons of greatest capacity from all ranks of the community, the more complete is the bondage of all, the members of the bureaucracy included. For the governors are as much the slaves of their organisation and discipline, as the governed are of the governors. A Chinese mandarin is as much the tool and creature of a despotism as the humblest cultivator. An individual Jesuit is to the utmost degree of abasement the slave of his order, though the order itself exists for the collective power and importance of its members.
A very different picture appears among people used to handling their own affairs. In France many people have served in the military. Many of them were non-commissioned officers. So in any popular uprising there are several people ready to lead. They can improvise a tolerable plan of action. What the French are in military affairs, Americans are in civil business. Leave Americans without a government, and any group of them can improvise one. They can carry on public business with intelligence, order, and decisive action. This is how every free people should be. A people like this will stay free. They will not allow any person or group to enslave them by seizing the central administration's reins. No bureaucracy can hope to force such a people to do what they dislike. When everything is handled through a bureaucracy, nothing the bureaucracy opposes can be done at all. In those countries the government is an organization that gathers the nation's experience and practical skill. It forms a disciplined body to rule the rest. If that organization is very effective at attracting and training the most capable people from all ranks, the bondage of everyone grows. That includes the bureaucrats themselves. The governors are as much slaves to their organization and discipline as the governed are to the governors. A Chinese mandarin is as much a tool and creature of despotism as the humblest farmer. An individual Jesuit is utterly a slave to his order, even though the order exists to secure power and importance for its members.
It is not, also, to be forgotten, that the absorption of all the principal ability of the country into the governing body is fatal, sooner or later, to the mental activity and progressiveness of the body itself. Banded together as they are—working a system which, like all systems, necessarily proceeds in a great measure by fixed rules—the official body are under the constant temptation of sinking into indolent routine, or, if they now and then desert that mill-horse round, of rushing into some half-examined crudity which has struck the fancy of some leading member of the corps: and the sole check to these closely allied, though seemingly opposite, tendencies, the only stimulus which can keep the ability of the body itself up to a high standard, is liability to the watchful criticism of equal ability outside the body. It is indispensable, therefore, that the means should exist, independently of the government, of forming such ability, and furnishing it with the opportunities and experience necessary for a correct judgment of great practical affairs. If we would possess permanently a skilful and efficient body of functionaries—above all, a body able to originate and willing to adopt improvements; if we would not have our bureaucracy degenerate into a pedantocracy, this body must not engross all the occupations which form and cultivate the faculties required for the government of mankind.
We must also remember that absorbing all the country's top ability into the governing body eventually destroys its mental energy and progress. Grouped together and following a system of fixed rules, officials face a constant temptation to fall into lazy routine. If they sometimes escape that daily grind, they may rush into half-tested schemes that please some leading member. The only check on these related, though seemingly opposite, tendencies, and the only thing that keeps their abilities high, is exposure to watchful criticism from equally capable people outside the government. Therefore we need independent ways, outside government, to develop such talent and give it the experience needed to judge major practical affairs. If we want a permanently skilled and efficient body of functionaries, especially one able to originate and willing to adopt improvements, we must avoid letting our bureaucracy become a pedantocracy. That body must not monopolize all the jobs that form and cultivate the faculties needed to govern people.
To determine the point at which evils, so formidable to human freedom and advancement, begin, or rather at which they begin to predominate over the benefits attending the collective application of the force of society, under its recognised chiefs, for the removal of the obstacles which stand in the way of its well-being; to secure as much of the advantages of centralised power and intelligence, as can be had without turning into governmental channels too great a proportion of the general activity, is one of the most difficult and complicated questions in the art of government. It is, in a great measure, a question of detail, in which many and various considerations must be kept in view, and no absolute rule can be laid down. But I believe that the practical principle in which safety resides, the ideal to be kept in view, the standard by which to test all arrangements intended for overcoming the difficulty, may be conveyed in these words: the greatest dissemination of power consistent with efficiency; but the greatest possible centralisation of information, and diffusion of it from the centre. Thus, in municipal administration, there would be, as in the New England States, a very minute division among separate officers, chosen by the localities, of all business which is not better left to the persons directly interested; but besides this, there would be, in each department of local affairs, a central superintendence, forming a branch of the general government. The organ of this superintendence would concentrate, as in a focus, the variety of information and experience derived from the conduct of that branch of public business in all the localities, from everything analogous which is done in foreign countries, and from the general principles of political science. This central organ should have a right to know all that is done, and its special duty should be that of making the knowledge acquired in one place available for others. Emancipated from the petty prejudices and narrow views of a locality by its elevated position and comprehensive sphere of observation, its advice would naturally carry much authority; but its actual power, as a permanent institution, should, I conceive, be limited to compelling the local officers to obey the laws laid down for their guidance. In all things not provided for by general rules, those officers should be left to their own judgment, under responsibility to their constituents. For the violation of rules, they should be responsible to law, and the rules themselves should be laid down by the legislature; the central administrative authority only watching over their execution, and if they were not properly carried into effect, appealing, according to the nature of the case, to the tribunal to enforce the law, or to the constituencies to dismiss the functionaries who had not executed it according to its spirit. Such, in its general conception, is the central superintendence which the Poor Law Board is intended to exercise over the administrators of the Poor Rate throughout the country. Whatever powers the Board exercises beyond this limit, were right and necessary in that peculiar case, for the cure of rooted habits of maladministration in matters deeply affecting not the localities merely, but the whole community; since no locality has a moral right to make itself by mismanagement a nest of pauperism, necessarily overflowing into other localities, and impairing the moral and physical condition of the whole labouring community. The powers of administrative coercion and subordinate legislation possessed by the Poor Law Board (but which, owing to the state of opinion on the subject, are very scantily exercised by them), though perfectly justifiable in a case of first-rate national interest, would be wholly out of place in the superintendence of interests purely local. But a central organ of information and instruction for all the localities, would be equally valuable in all departments of administration. A government cannot have too much of the kind of activity which does not impede, but aids and stimulates, individual exertion and development. The mischief begins when, instead of calling forth the activity and powers of individuals and bodies, it substitutes its own activity for theirs; when, instead of informing, advising, and, upon occasion, denouncing, it makes them work in fetters, or bids them stand aside and does their work instead of them. The worth of a State, in the long run, is the worth of the individuals composing it; and a State which postpones the interests of their mental expansion and elevation, to a little more of administrative skill, or of that semblance of it which practice gives, in the details of business; a State which dwarfs its men, in order that they may be more docile instruments in its hands even for beneficial purposes, will find that with small men no great thing can really be accomplished; and that the perfection of machinery to which it has sacrificed everything, will in the end avail it nothing, for want of the vital power which, in order that the machine might work more smoothly, it has preferred to banish.
To find the point where these evils, so harmful to human freedom and progress, begin to outweigh the benefits of using society’s force under its recognised leaders is very hard. It is also hard to decide how far central power and expertise should go before they take over too much of the community’s activity. This is one of the most difficult questions in the art of government. Much of it depends on details. Many different considerations must be balanced. No absolute rule can cover every case. Still, I think the practical principle that offers safety can be stated simply. Aim for the greatest spread of power that still allows efficiency. At the same time, centralise information as much as possible and share it from the centre. In municipal government, for example, there should be a fine division of tasks among local officers, as in the New England States. Local officers should be chosen by the localities. They should handle any business not better left to the people directly affected. Alongside this local division, each local area should have a central oversight body. This body should act as a branch of the general government for that area of local affairs. It should gather, like a focus, the variety of information and experience from how that public work is done everywhere. It should also collect lessons from similar work in other countries and from political science. This central body should have a right to know what is being done. Its special duty should be to make useful knowledge from one place available to others. Because it sits above local prejudices and narrow views, its advice would naturally carry weight. But as a permanent institution, its real power should be limited. It should be able only to compel local officers to obey the laws given for guidance. On matters not covered by general rules, local officers should use their own judgment. They must remain responsible to their constituents. For breaking rules, officers should be answerable to the law. The legislature should set the rules themselves. The central administrative authority should only watch execution. If rules are not properly enforced, the centre should, depending on the case, ask a court to enforce the law. Or it should appeal to the voters to remove officials who failed to act in the spirit of the law. This general idea is what the Poor Law Board is meant to do in supervising administrators of the Poor Rate across the country. When the Board used powers beyond this limit, those powers were right and necessary in that special case. They helped cure long-standing habits of bad administration in matters that affected not just particular localities, but the whole country. No locality has a moral right to ruin itself by mismanagement and become a source of pauperism. Such mismanagement spills over into other areas and harms the moral and physical condition of the entire working community. The coercive powers and secondary lawmaking authority of the Poor Law Board were justifiable for a matter of first-rate national interest. However, those powers would be totally inappropriate for supervising purely local interests. Still, a central organ for information and guidance would be valuable in every area of administration. A government cannot have too much activity that helps and encourages individual effort and development rather than hindering it. The harm starts when the government substitutes its own activity for the activity of individuals and groups. It becomes damaging when, instead of calling out people’s powers, it makes them work in chains or takes their place. A state’s long-term value equals the value of the individuals who make it up. A state that sacrifices people’s intellectual growth and moral elevation for a little more administrative skill, or for the appearance of it in running details, harms itself. A state that shrinks its citizens so they become more docile instruments, even for good ends, will find that small people cannot achieve great things. The machine-like perfection it sought will eventually be useless, because it has removed the vital energy needed to make the machine work.