Applications

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 maxims are these. First, the individual is not accountable to society for his actions, as far as they concern the interests of no one but himself. Society may express its dislike or disapproval of his conduct only through advice, instruction, and persuasion, and through other people avoiding him if they think it necessary for their own good. These are the only measures it can justifiably use. Second, for actions that harm the interests of others, the individual is accountable. He may be subjected to social or legal punishment, if society thinks one or the other 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.

In the first place, damage, or the probability of damage, to the interests of others is the only thing that can justify society's interference. But it must by no means be supposed that it therefore always does justify it. In many cases an individual, in pursuing a legitimate object, necessarily and therefore legitimately causes pain or loss to others. Or he intercepts a good they had a reasonable hope of getting. Such conflicts of interest between individuals often arise from bad social institutions, but they are unavoidable while those institutions last. And some would be unavoidable under any institutions. Whoever succeeds in an overcrowded profession or a competitive examination, or is preferred to another in any contest for something both desire, benefits from the loss of others, from their wasted effort and their disappointment. But it is commonly admitted to be better for the general interest of mankind that people should pursue their objects undeterred by consequences of this sort. In other words, society grants the disappointed competitors no right, legal or moral, to be spared this kind of suffering. It feels called on to interfere only when means of success have been used that it is against the general interest to permit, namely fraud or treachery, and 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. Whoever undertakes to sell any kind of goods to the public does something that affects the interests of other people and of society in general. So his conduct, in principle, comes within the jurisdiction of society. Accordingly, it was once held to be the duty of governments, in all cases considered important, to fix prices and regulate the processes of manufacture. But it is now recognized, though only after a long struggle, that both cheapness and good quality in goods are most effectively provided for by leaving producers and sellers perfectly free. The sole check is the equal freedom of buyers to supply themselves elsewhere. This is the so-called doctrine of Free Trade. It rests on grounds different from the principle of individual liberty asserted in this Essay, though equally solid. Restrictions on trade, or on production for purposes of trade, are indeed restraints. And all restraint, quâ restraint (that is, simply as restraint), is an evil. But the restraints in question affect only the part of conduct that society is competent to restrain. They are wrong solely because they do not really produce the results they are meant to produce. The principle of individual liberty is not involved in the doctrine of Free Trade. Nor is it involved in most of the questions that arise about the limits of that doctrine. For example, how much public control is permissible to prevent fraud by adulteration? How far should sanitary precautions, or arrangements to protect workers in dangerous occupations, be enforced on employers? Such questions involve considerations of liberty only in so far as leaving people to themselves is always better, cæteris paribus (other things being equal), than controlling them. But that they may legitimately be controlled for these ends is undeniable in principle. On the other hand, there are questions about interference with trade that are essentially questions of liberty. Such are the Maine Law, already touched on, the ban on importing opium into China, and the restriction of the sale of poisons. In short, they are all cases 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.

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 of these examples, the sale of poisons, opens a new question: the proper limits of what may be called the functions of police. How far may liberty legitimately be invaded to prevent crime or 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 than the punitive function to be abused to the harm of liberty. For there is hardly any part of a human being's legitimate freedom of action that could not be represented, and fairly too, as making some form of wrongdoing easier. Nevertheless, if a public authority, or even a private person, sees anyone evidently preparing to commit a crime, they are not bound to look on inactive until the crime is committed. They may interfere to prevent it. If poisons were never bought or used for any purpose except committing murder, it would be right to prohibit their manufacture and sale. They may, however, be wanted for purposes that are not only innocent but useful, and restrictions cannot be imposed in the one case without operating in the other. Again, it is a proper task of public authority to guard against accidents. Suppose a public officer or anyone else saw a person trying to cross a bridge known 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 harm, no one but the person himself can judge whether his motive is sufficient for running the risk. In this case, therefore, unless he is a child, or delirious, or in some state of excitement or absorption that prevents the full use of his power of reflection, he ought, I believe, only to be warned of the danger. He ought not to be forcibly prevented from exposing himself to it. Similar considerations, applied to a question like the sale of poisons, may help us decide which of the possible kinds of regulation are or are not contrary to principle. A precaution such as labelling the drug with some word expressing its dangerous character, for example, may be enforced without violating liberty. The buyer cannot wish not to know that the thing he has is poisonous. But to require a doctor's certificate in all cases would make it sometimes impossible, and always expensive, to obtain the article for legitimate uses. I can see only one way to put difficulties in the way of crimes committed by this means without any infringement worth counting on the liberty of those who want the poison for other purposes. It consists in providing what Bentham aptly calls "preappointed evidence." Everyone is familiar with this provision in the case of contracts. When a contract is made, it is usual and right for the law to require certain formalities as the condition of enforcing it, such as signatures, the attestation of witnesses, and the like. Then, in case of a later dispute, there will be evidence to prove that the contract was really made, and that nothing in the circumstances made it legally invalid. The effect is to put great obstacles in the way of fictitious contracts, or of contracts made in circumstances that, if known, would destroy their validity. Precautions of a similar kind might be enforced in the sale of articles suited to be instruments of crime. The seller, for example, might be required to enter in a register the exact time of the sale, the buyer's name and address, and the precise quality and quantity sold. He might be required to ask what it was wanted for, and to record the answer he received. When there was no medical prescription, the presence of some third person might be required. That person could then prove the purchase against the buyer, if there were later reason to believe the article had been used for criminal purposes. Such regulations would in general be no material obstacle to obtaining the article. But they would be a very considerable obstacle to making an improper use of it 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 consistently with the principles laid down. Take personal conduct thought to be blameworthy, which respect for liberty prevents society from preventing or punishing, because the evil directly resulting falls wholly on the agent. Ought other people to be equally free to advise or encourage what the agent is free to do? This question is not free from difficulty. The case of a person who urges another to do an act is not strictly a case of self-regarding conduct. To give advice or offer inducements to anyone is a social act. So, like actions in general that affect others, it might be thought subject to social control. But a little reflection corrects this first impression. It shows that even if the case is not strictly within the definition of individual liberty, the reasons on which the principle of individual liberty is grounded apply to it. If people must be allowed, in whatever concerns only themselves, to act as seems best to them at their own risk, they must equally be free to consult one another about what is fit to be done. They must be free to exchange opinions, and to give and receive suggestions. Whatever it is permitted to do, it must be permitted to advise doing. The question is doubtful only when the instigator gains a personal benefit from his advice. That is, when he makes it his occupation, for a living or for money, to promote what society and the State consider an evil. Then, indeed, a new complicating element is introduced. There now exist classes of people with an interest opposed to what is considered the public good, whose way of living is based on working against 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? This case is one of those that lie on the exact boundary line between two principles, and it is not immediately clear to which of the two it properly belongs. There are arguments on both sides. On the side of toleration it may be said that following something as an occupation, and living or profiting by it, cannot make criminal what would otherwise be permissible. The act should either be consistently permitted or consistently prohibited. If the principles we have defended so far are true, society has no business, as society, to decide that anything is wrong which concerns only the individual. It cannot go beyond dissuasion, and one person should be as free to persuade as another to dissuade. Against this it may be argued as follows. The public, or the State, are not warranted in deciding with authority, for purposes of repression or punishment, that this or that conduct affecting only the individual's interests is good or bad. But if they regard it as bad, they are fully justified in assuming that whether it is so or not is at least a disputable question. On this assumption, they cannot be acting wrongly in trying to exclude the influence of solicitations that are not disinterested. These come from instigators who cannot possibly be impartial. Such people have a direct personal interest on one side, and that side is the one the State believes to be wrong. And they admittedly promote it for personal ends only. Surely, it may be urged, nothing is lost, and no good is sacrificed, by arranging things so that people make their choice, wisely or foolishly, on their own prompting. That choice should be as free as possible from the arts of people who stir up their inclinations for interested purposes of their own. Thus (it may be said) the statutes on unlawful games are utterly indefensible. All people should be free to gamble in their own or each other's houses, or in any meeting place set up by their own subscriptions and open only to members and their visitors. Yet public gambling-houses should not be permitted. It is true that the prohibition is never effective. Whatever amount of tyrannical power is given to the police, gambling-houses can always be kept going under other pretences. But they may be forced to carry on their business with a certain degree of secrecy and mystery, so that nobody knows anything about them except those who seek them. And society ought not to aim at more than this. There is considerable force in these arguments. I will not venture to decide whether they are enough to justify the moral anomaly of punishing the accessory when the principal is (and must be) allowed to go free. That is, of fining or imprisoning the procurer but not the fornicator, the gambling-house keeper but not the gambler. Still less ought the ordinary operations of buying and selling to be interfered with on similar grounds. Almost every article that is bought and sold may be used to excess, and the sellers have a financial interest in encouraging that excess. But no argument can be based on this in favour of, for instance, the Maine Law. For the class of dealers in strong drink, though they have an interest in its abuse, are indispensably required for the sake of its legitimate use. The interest of these dealers in promoting intemperance is, however, a real evil. It justifies the State in imposing restrictions and requiring guarantees that, but for that justification, would be infringements of 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.

The question of making the sale of these commodities a more or less exclusive privilege must be answered differently, depending on the purposes the restriction is meant to serve. All places of public resort require the restraint of a police, and places of this kind especially, because offences against society are especially apt to start there. It is therefore fitting to confine the power of selling these commodities (at least for consumption on the premises) to people of known or vouched-for respectable conduct. It is fitting to make whatever rules about opening and closing hours are needed for police supervision. And it is fitting to withdraw the licence if breaches of the peace repeatedly occur through the keeper's connivance or incapacity, or if the house becomes a meeting place for plotting and preparing offences against the law. I do not believe any further restriction is justifiable in principle. Take, for instance, limiting the number of beer-houses and spirit-houses for the express purpose of making them harder to reach and reducing the occasions of temptation. This not only exposes everyone to an inconvenience because there are some who would abuse the easy access. It also suits only a state of society in which the labouring classes are openly 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 one who values freedom properly will agree to their being governed so, unless all efforts have been exhausted to educate them for freedom and govern them as free men, and it has been conclusively proved that they can only be governed as children. Merely stating the alternative shows how absurd it is to suppose that such efforts have been made in any case that needs to be considered here. It is only because the institutions of this country are a mass of inconsistencies that things belonging to the system of despotic, or so-called paternal, government get into our practice. Meanwhile, the general freedom of our institutions rules out the amount of control needed to make the restraint of any real use as a 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.

It was pointed out early in this Essay that the liberty of the individual, in things where the individual alone is concerned, implies a matching liberty in any number of individuals. They may regulate by mutual agreement the things that concern them jointly and concern no one but themselves. This question presents no difficulty so long as the will of all the people involved stays unchanged. But since that will may change, it is often necessary, even in things that concern them alone, for them to make engagements with one another. And when they do, it is fitting, as a general rule, that those engagements be kept. Yet in the laws of probably every country, this general rule has some exceptions. Not only are people not held to engagements that violate the rights of third parties. It is sometimes considered a sufficient reason for releasing them from an engagement that it is harmful to themselves. In this and most other civilized countries, for example, an engagement by which a person sold himself, or allowed himself to be sold, as a slave would be null and void. It would be enforced neither by law nor by opinion. The ground for limiting in this way his power to dispose voluntarily of his own lot in life is obvious, and it is seen very clearly in this extreme case. The reason for not interfering with a person's voluntary acts, except for the sake of others, is regard for his liberty. His voluntary choice is evidence that what he chooses is desirable, or at least bearable, to him. And his good is, on the whole, best provided for by letting him use his own means of pursuing it. But by selling himself as a slave, he gives up his liberty. He forgoes any future use of it beyond that single act. He therefore defeats, in his own case, the very purpose that justifies allowing him to dispose of himself. He is no longer free. From then on he is in a position that no longer has in its favour the presumption that would come from 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 give away his freedom. These reasons, whose force is so conspicuous in this special case, evidently apply far more widely. Yet everywhere a limit is set to them by the necessities of life. These continually require, not indeed that we give up our freedom, but that we consent to this or that limitation of it. However, the principle that demands uncontrolled freedom of action in all that concerns only the agents themselves requires something more. Those who have become bound to one another, in things that 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 about money or money's worth, of which one can venture to say that there ought to be no liberty whatever to withdraw. Baron Wilhelm von Humboldt, in the excellent essay I have already quoted, states his conviction on this. He holds that engagements involving personal relations or services should never be legally binding beyond a limited period of time. And he holds that the most important of these engagements, marriage, should require nothing more than the declared will of either party to dissolve it. That is because marriage has the peculiarity that its objects are frustrated unless the feelings of both parties are in harmony with it. This subject is too important and too complicated to be discussed in a parenthesis, and I touch on it only as far as is needed for illustration. Baron Humboldt's dissertation was brief and general, and in this instance that forced him to state his conclusion without discussing the premises. Had it not, he would doubtless have recognized that the question cannot be decided on grounds as simple as those he limits himself to. A person may, by express promise or by conduct, have encouraged another to rely on his continuing to act in a certain way. He may have encouraged the other to build expectations and calculations, and to stake any part of his plan of life on that assumption. Then a new series of moral obligations arises on his part toward that person. These may possibly be overruled, but they cannot be ignored. Again, the relation between two contracting parties may have had consequences for others. It may have placed third parties in some special position, or, as in the case of marriage, even brought third parties into existence. Then obligations arise on the part of both contracting parties toward those third persons. The fulfilment of those obligations, or at any rate the way they are fulfilled, must be greatly affected by whether the relation between the original parties continues or is broken off. It does not follow, nor can I admit, that these obligations go so far as to require the contract to be fulfilled at any cost to the happiness of the reluctant party. But they are a necessary element in the question. Von Humboldt maintains that they ought to make no difference to the legal freedom of the parties to release themselves from the engagement (and I also hold that they ought not to make much difference). Even if that is so, they necessarily make a great difference to the moral freedom. A person is bound to take all these circumstances into account before deciding on a step that may affect such important interests of others. And if he does not give those interests proper weight, he is morally responsible for the wrong. I have made these obvious remarks to illustrate better the general principle of liberty. They are not at all needed on the particular question. On the contrary, that question is usually discussed as if the interest of children were everything, and that of grown people 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 observed that, because there are no recognized 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 the feeling for liberty is strongest in the modern European world 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, on the pretext that the other's affairs are his own affairs. The State, while it respects each person's liberty in what specially concerns himself, is bound to keep a vigilant control over his use of any power it allows him to have over others. This obligation is almost entirely disregarded in the case of family relations. Yet in its direct influence on human happiness, this case is more important than all others taken together. The almost despotic power of husbands over wives need not be enlarged on here. Nothing more is needed to remove the evil completely than for wives to have the same rights, and receive the protection of law in the same way, as all other persons. Besides, on this subject the defenders of established injustice do not use the plea of liberty, but stand forth openly as the champions of power. It is in the case of children that misapplied ideas of liberty are a real obstacle to the State's fulfilling its duties. One would almost think a man's children were supposed to be literally, and not metaphorically, a part of himself. Opinion is so jealous of the smallest interference of law with his absolute and exclusive control over them. It is more jealous of this than of almost any interference with his own freedom of action. So much less do most people 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 born its citizen? Yet who is not afraid to recognize and assert this truth? Hardly anyone, indeed, will deny that this is one of the most sacred duties of the parents (or, as law and custom now stand, the father): after calling a human being into the world, to give that being an education fitting him to perform his part well in life, toward others and toward 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 being required to make any effort or sacrifice to secure education for the child, he is left free to accept it or not when it is provided free! It is still not recognized that to bring a child into existence without a fair prospect of being able to provide not only food for its body, but instruction and training for its mind, is a moral crime, both against the unfortunate offspring and against society. Nor is it recognized that if the parent does not fulfil this obligation, the State ought to see it fulfilled, at the parent's expense as far as possible.

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.

It is not only in the matter of education that misplaced ideas of liberty prevent parents' moral obligations from being recognized, and legal obligations from being imposed. This happens where there are always the strongest grounds for the moral obligations, and in many cases for the legal ones too. The very fact of causing a human being to exist is one of the most responsible actions in the whole range of human life. To take on this responsibility, to bestow a life that may be either a curse or a blessing, is a crime against the being who receives it, unless that being will have at least the ordinary chances of a desirable existence. And in a country that is overpopulated, or threatened with being so, to produce children beyond a very small number, with the effect of lowering the reward of labour by their competition, is a serious offence against all who live by the pay for their labour. In many countries on the Continent, laws forbid marriage unless the couple can show they have the means to support a family. Such laws do not exceed the legitimate powers of the State. Whether they are expedient or not is a question that depends mainly on local circumstances and feelings. But they are not objectionable as violations of liberty. They are interferences by the State to prohibit a harmful act, an act injurious to others. Such an act ought to be a subject of condemnation and social stigma, even when it is not thought expedient to add legal punishment. Yet the current ideas of liberty bend very easily to real infringements of the individual's freedom in things that concern only himself. Those same ideas would reject any attempt to restrain his inclinations when the result of indulging them is a life, or lives, of misery and depravity for the offspring, along with many evils to anyone close enough to be affected in any way by their actions. When we compare mankind's strange respect for liberty with their strange lack 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 anyone.

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 subject. In many cases, individuals may not do the particular thing as well, on average, as government officers. Even so, it is desirable that individuals do it, rather than the government, as a means to their own mental education. It is a way of strengthening their active faculties, exercising their judgment, and giving them a familiar knowledge of the subjects they are left to deal with. This is a principal, though not the only, reason for jury trial (in cases that are not political), for free and popular local and municipal institutions, and for running industrial and philanthropic enterprises through voluntary associations. These are not questions of liberty, and they are connected with that subject only by remote tendencies. But they are questions of development. It belongs to another occasion to dwell on these things as parts of national education. They are, in truth, the special training of a citizen, the practical part of the political education of a free people. They take people out of the narrow circle of personal and family selfishness. They accustom them to understanding joint interests and managing joint concerns. They get them used to acting from public or semi-public motives, and to guiding their conduct by aims that unite them instead of isolating them from one another. Without these habits and powers, a free constitution can be neither worked nor preserved. This is shown by the too often short-lived nature of political freedom in countries where it does not rest on 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 money, is further recommended by all the advantages set out in this Essay as belonging to individuality of development and diversity of ways of acting. Government operations tend to be alike everywhere. With individuals and voluntary associations, on the contrary, there are varied experiments and endless diversity of experience. What the State can usefully do is make itself a central store, and an active circulator and spreader, of the experience that results from many trials. Its business is to let each experimenter benefit from the experiments of others, instead of tolerating no experiments but its own.

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 most compelling reason for restricting the interference of government is the great evil of adding to its power unnecessarily. Every function added to those the government already performs spreads its influence over hopes and fears more widely. It turns the active and ambitious part of the public, more and more, into hangers-on of the government, or of some party that aims at becoming the government. Suppose the roads, the railways, the banks, the insurance offices, the great joint-stock companies, the universities, and the public charities were all branches of the government. Suppose that, in addition, the municipal corporations and local boards, with all that now falls to them, became departments of the central administration. And suppose the employees of all these enterprises were appointed and paid by the government, and looked to the government for every step up in life. Then not all the freedom of the press and the popular constitution of the legislature would make this or any other country free except in name. And the evil would be greater the more efficiently and scientifically the administrative machinery was built, and the more skilful the arrangements for getting the best qualified hands and heads to work it. In England it has lately been proposed that all members of the government's civil service should be selected by competitive examination, to obtain the most intelligent and educated people available for those jobs. Much has been said and written for and against this proposal. One of the arguments its opponents insist on most is that a permanent official of the State does not have enough prospect of pay and importance to attract the highest talents. Such talents, they say, 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 the proposal's friends had used this argument, as an answer to its principal difficulty. Coming from its 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 government's service, a proposal tending to bring about that result might well cause unease. Suppose every part of society's business that required organized cooperation, or large and comprehensive views, were in the hands of the government. And suppose government offices were universally filled by the ablest men. Then all the broad culture and practised intelligence in the country, except the purely speculative, would be concentrated in a numerous bureaucracy. The rest of the community would look to it alone for all things. The multitude would look to it for direction and orders in all they had to do. The able and ambitious would look to it for personal advancement. To be admitted into the ranks of this bureaucracy, and once admitted, to rise in it, would be the sole objects of ambition. Under this régime, the outside public is ill-qualified, for lack of practical experience, to criticize or check the way the bureaucracy works. Nor is that all. Sometimes the accidents of despotic institutions, or the natural working of popular ones, raise to the top a ruler or rulers inclined to reform. Even then, no reform can be carried out that is contrary to the interest of the bureaucracy. Such is the melancholy condition of the Russian empire, as the accounts of those who have had enough opportunity to observe it show. 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. They have a silent veto on every decree of his, simply by not carrying it out. In countries of more advanced civilization and a more rebellious spirit, the public is used to expecting everything to be done for them by the State. Or at least they are used to doing nothing for themselves without asking the State not only for permission to do it, but even for how it is to be done. So they naturally hold the State responsible for every evil that befalls them. When the evil exceeds their patience, they rise against the government and make what is called a revolution. Then somebody else, with or without legitimate authority from the nation, vaults into the seat and issues his orders to the bureaucracy. And everything goes on much as it did before, since the bureaucracy is unchanged and nobody else is capable of taking 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 sight is seen among a people used to managing their own business. In France, a large part of the people have served in the military, and many of them have held at least the rank of non-commissioned officer. So in every popular uprising there are several people 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. Leave them without a government, and any body of Americans can improvise one. They can carry on that or any other public business with enough 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 do or endure anything they do not like. But where everything is done through the bureaucracy, nothing the bureaucracy really opposes can be done at all. The constitution of such countries organizes the experience and practical ability of the nation into a disciplined body for the purpose of governing the rest. The more perfect that organization is in itself, and the more successful it is in drawing to itself and training for itself the most capable people 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 organization 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 farmer. An individual Jesuit is the slave of his order to the utmost degree of abasement, though the order itself exists for the collective power and importance of 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 not forget, either, that absorbing all the chief ability of the country into the governing body is fatal, sooner or later, to the mental activity and progressiveness of that body itself. The officials are banded together. They work a system which, like all systems, necessarily proceeds in great measure by fixed rules. So they are under constant temptation to sink into lazy routine. Or, if they now and then leave that mill-horse round, they are tempted to rush into some half-examined crude scheme that has caught the fancy of some leading member of the corps. These tendencies are closely allied, though they seem opposite. The only check on them, and the only stimulus that can keep the body's own ability up to a high standard, is exposure to the watchful criticism of equal ability outside the body. It is indispensable, therefore, that means should exist, independent of the government, to form such ability. These means must give it the opportunities and experience needed for a correct judgment of great practical affairs. We may wish to have permanently a skilful and efficient body of officials, and above all a body able to originate improvements and willing to adopt them. We may wish to keep our bureaucracy from degenerating into a pedantocracy (rule by pedants). If so, this body must not take over all the occupations that form and cultivate the faculties required for governing mankind.

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.

These evils are serious threats to human freedom and progress. The question is where they begin, or rather where they begin to outweigh the benefits of society acting together, under its recognized leaders, to remove the obstacles to its well-being. The goal is to secure as many of the advantages of centralized power and knowledge as we can, without channeling too large a share of the general activity through the government. This is one of the most difficult and complicated questions in the art of government. It is largely a question of detail, in which many different considerations must be kept in view, and no absolute rule can be laid down. But I believe the practical principle that keeps us safe can be put in these words. It is the ideal to keep in view, and the standard for testing every arrangement meant to overcome the difficulty: the greatest spreading of power consistent with efficiency, but the greatest possible centralization of information, and its spreading out again from the center. In local government, then, there would be a very fine division of all business not better left to the people directly concerned, among separate officials chosen by each locality, as in the New England States. But besides this, each branch of local affairs would have a central oversight body, forming a branch of the national government. This body would gather in one place the whole range of information and experience from how that branch of public business is run in every locality, from everything similar done in foreign countries, and from the general principles of political science. This central body should have the right to know everything that is done. Its special duty should be to make the knowledge gained in one place available to others. Its high position and wide range of observation free it from the petty prejudices and narrow views of a single locality, so its advice would naturally carry great authority. But its actual power, as a permanent institution, should, I think, be limited to making the local officials obey the laws laid down to guide them. In everything not covered by general rules, those officials should be left to their own judgment, answerable to the people who elected them. For breaking the rules, they should be answerable to the law, and the rules themselves should be made by the legislature. The central administrative authority would only watch over how the rules are carried out. If they were not properly carried out, it would appeal, depending on the case, either to the courts to enforce the law or to the voters to dismiss the officials who had not carried it out in its intended spirit. This, in its general idea, is the central oversight that the Poor Law Board is meant to exercise over those who administer the Poor Rate throughout the country. Whatever powers the Board uses beyond this limit were right and necessary in that special case. They were needed to cure deep-rooted habits of mismanagement in matters that seriously affect not just the localities but the whole community. No locality has a moral right to turn itself, through mismanagement, into a breeding ground of poverty that inevitably spills over into other localities and damages the moral and physical condition of the whole working population. The Poor Law Board has powers of administrative compulsion and of making subordinate regulations (though, because of public opinion on the subject, it uses them very sparingly). These powers are fully justified in a case of the highest national importance, but would be completely out of place in overseeing purely local interests. Still, a central body providing information and instruction to all the localities would be equally valuable in every branch of administration. A government cannot have too much of the kind of activity that does not hinder but helps and encourages individual effort and development. The harm begins when, instead of calling forth the activity and powers of individuals and groups, it substitutes its own activity for theirs. It begins when, instead of informing, advising, and, when needed, denouncing, it makes them work in chains, or tells them to stand aside and does their work for them. In the long run, the worth of a State is the worth of the individuals who make it up. A State that puts their mental growth and improvement second to a little more administrative skill, or the appearance of it that practice gives, in the details of business will be disappointed. A State that stunts its people so they can be more obedient tools in its hands, even for good purposes, will find that with small people nothing great can really be achieved. And it will find that the perfect machinery for which it sacrificed everything will in the end do it no good, for lack of the living power it chose to banish so that the machine might run more smoothly.