The People (Continued)

As nature has set bounds to the stature of a well-made man, and, outside those limits, makes nothing but giants or dwarfs, similarly, for the constitution of a State to be at its best, it is possible to fix limits that will make it neither too large for good government, nor too small for self-maintenance. In every body politic there is a maximum strength which it cannot exceed and which it only loses by increasing in size. Every extension of the social tie means its relaxation; and, generally speaking, a small State is stronger in proportion than a great one.

Nature sets limits on the height of a well-proportioned man. Beyond those limits, nature produces only giants or dwarfs. Similarly, we can set limits on a State’s size so that its constitution works best. The State must be neither too large to govern well nor too small to sustain itself. Every political community has a maximum strength beyond which it cannot go. Growing larger only reduces that strength. Every expansion of the social bond weakens that bond. Generally speaking, a small State is stronger in proportion to its size than a large one.

A thousand arguments could be advanced in favour of this principle. First, long distances make administration more difficult, just as a weight becomes heavier at the end of a longer lever. Administration therefore becomes more and more burdensome as the distance grows greater; for, in the first place, each city has its own, which is paid for by the people: each district its own, still paid for by the people: then comes each province, and then the great governments, satrapies, and vice-royalties, always costing more the higher you go, and always at the expense of the unfortunate people. Last of all comes the supreme administration, which eclipses all the rest. All these overcharges are a continual drain upon the subjects; so far from being better governed by all these different orders, they are worse governed than if there were only a single authority over them. In the meantime, there scarce remain resources enough to meet emergencies; and, when recourse must be had to these, the State is always on the eve of destruction.

A thousand arguments could be made in support of this principle. First, long distances make governing harder, just as a weight feels heavier at the end of a longer lever. So administration becomes more and more burdensome as distances increase. To begin with, each city has its own administration, paid for by the people. Each district has its own, also paid for by the people. Then come the provinces, followed by the great regional governments, satrapies, and viceroyalties. Each higher level costs more, always at the expense of the unfortunate people. Finally comes the supreme administration, whose cost overshadows all the rest. All these extra costs constantly drain the people's resources. Far from being better governed by all these levels of authority, the people are worse governed. They would be better governed under a single authority. Meanwhile, barely enough resources remain to meet emergencies. And when those resources must be used, the State is always on the brink of destruction.

This is not all; not only has the government less vigour and promptitude for securing the observance of the laws, preventing nuisances, correcting abuses, and guarding against seditious undertakings begun in distant places; the people has less affection for its rulers, whom it never sees, for its country, which, to its eyes, seems like the world, and for its fellow-citizens, most of whom are unknown to it. The same laws cannot suit so many diverse provinces with different customs, situated in the most various climates, and incapable of enduring a uniform government. Different laws lead only to trouble and confusion among peoples which, living under the same rulers and in constant communication one with another, intermingle and intermarry, and, coming under the sway of new customs, never know if they can call their very patrimony their own. Talent is buried, virtue unknown and vice unpunished, among such a multitude of men who do not know one another, gathered together in one place at the seat of the central administration. The leaders, overwhelmed with business, see nothing for themselves; the State is governed by clerks. Finally, the measures which have to be taken to, maintain the general authority, which all these distant officials wish to escape or to impose upon, absorb all the energy of the public, so that there is none left for the happiness of the people. There is hardly enough to defend it when need arises, and thus a body which is too big for its constitution gives way and falls crushed under its own weight.

There is more. The government has less strength and speed in enforcing laws, preventing public disturbances, correcting abuses, and stopping rebellions begun far away. The people also feel less affection for rulers they never see. They feel less affection for their country, which seems to them as vast as the world. And they feel less affection for their fellow citizens, most of whom they do not know. The same laws cannot suit so many different provinces. These provinces have different customs, lie in widely varying climates, and cannot tolerate a uniform government. Yet different laws bring only trouble and confusion among peoples who share rulers and remain in constant contact. These peoples mix and intermarry. As they come under the influence of new customs, they never know whether even their inherited property is truly theirs. Talent goes unnoticed, virtue unrecognized, and wrongdoing unpunished among so many strangers gathered at the center of government. The leaders, overwhelmed with work, see nothing for themselves. Clerks govern the State. Finally, maintaining the central authority requires measures against distant officials who all seek to evade or deceive that authority. These measures consume all the public's energy, leaving none for the people's happiness. There is hardly enough energy left to defend the State when necessary. And so a body too large for its structure gives way, crushed under its own weight.

Again, the State must assure itself a safe foundation, if it is to have stability, and to be able to resist the shocks it cannot help experiencing, as well as the efforts it will be forced to make for its maintenance; for all peoples have a kind of centrifugal force that makes them continually act one against another, and tend to aggrandise themselves at their neighbours' expense, like the vortices of Descartes. Thus the weak run the risk of being soon swallowed up; and it is almost impossible for any one to preserve itself except by putting itself in a state of equilibrium with all, so that the pressure is on all sides practically equal.

Again, the State must secure a solid foundation if it is to remain stable and withstand unavoidable shocks. That foundation must also allow the State to bear the efforts needed to maintain itself. For all peoples have a kind of centrifugal force that constantly drives them against one another. They tend to expand at their neighbors’ expense, like the vortices of Descartes. So the weak risk soon being swallowed up. And almost no State can survive unless it balances itself against all the others. In this balance, pressure on the State must be roughly equal on all sides.

It may therefore be seen that there are reasons for expansion and reasons for contraction; and it is no small part of the statesman's skill to hit between them the mean that is most favourable to the preservation of the State. It may be said that the reason for expansion, being merely external and relative, ought to be subordinate to the reasons for contraction, which are internal and absolute. A strong and healthy constitution is the first thing to look for; and it is better to count on the vigour which comes of good government than on the resources a great territory furnishes.

We can therefore see reasons for expansion and reasons for contraction. A major part of a statesman’s skill lies in finding the balance that best preserves the State. We may say that reasons for expansion should come second, since they depend only on external circumstances and relative conditions. Reasons for contraction, by contrast, are internal and absolute. The first priority is a strong and healthy system of government. It is better to rely on the strength good government provides than on the resources of a large territory.

It may be added that there have been known States so constituted that the necessity of making conquests entered into their very constitution, and that, in order to maintain themselves, they were forced to expand ceaselessly. It may be that they congratulated themselves greatly on this fortunate necessity, which none the less indicated to them, along with the limits of their greatness, the inevitable moment of their fall.

We may also add that some states were built in ways that made conquest necessary. To survive, these states had to keep expanding. Perhaps they took great pride in this fortunate necessity. Yet that same necessity revealed both the limits of their greatness and the inevitable moment of their fall.