Dictatorship

The inflexibility of the laws, which prevents them from adapting themselves to circumstances, may, in certain cases, render them disastrous, and make them bring about, at a time of crisis, the ruin of the State. The order and slowness of the forms they enjoin require a space of time which circumstances sometimes withhold. A thousand cases against which the legislator has made no provision may present themselves, and it is a highly necessary part of foresight to be conscious that everything cannot be foreseen.

Laws are rigid and cannot adapt to circumstances. In some cases, this rigidity may make laws disastrous and cause the State’s collapse during a crisis. The orderly, slow procedures required by law take time that circumstances sometimes do not allow. A thousand situations may arise that the lawmaker has not planned for. Recognizing that not everything can be foreseen is an essential part of planning ahead.

It is wrong therefore to wish to make political institutions so strong as to render it impossible to suspend their operation. Even Sparta allowed its laws to lapse.

So it is wrong to want political institutions so strong that their operation can never be suspended. Even Sparta allowed its laws to lapse.

However, none but the greatest dangers can counter-balance that of changing the public order, and the sacred power of the laws should never be arrested save when the existence of the country is at stake. In these rare and obvious cases, provision is made for the public security by a particular act entrusting it to him who is most worthy. This commitment may be carried out in either of two ways, according to the nature of the danger.

However, only the greatest dangers can outweigh the danger of changing the public order. The sacred authority of the laws must never be suspended unless the country's existence is at stake. In these rare and clear cases, a special act places public security in the hands of the most worthy person. This responsibility may be assigned in either of two ways, depending on the nature of the danger.

If increasing the activity of the government is a sufficient remedy, power is concentrated in the hands of one or two of its members: in this case the change is not in the authority of the laws, but only in the form of administering them. If, on the other hand, the peril is of such a kind that the paraphernalia of the laws are an obstacle to their preservation, the method is to nominate a supreme ruler, who shall silence all the laws and suspend for a moment the sovereign authority. In such a case, there is no doubt about the general will, and it is clear that the people's first intention is that the State shall not perish. Thus the suspension of the legislative authority is in no sense its abolition; the magistrate who silences it cannot make it speak; he dominates it, but cannot represent it. He can do anything, except make laws.

If making the government more active is enough, power is concentrated in the hands of one or two government members. In this case, the laws retain their authority. Only the way they are administered changes. If, however, legal procedures threaten the survival of the laws themselves, the solution is to appoint a supreme ruler. This ruler silences all the laws and briefly suspends sovereign authority. In such a case, there is no doubt about the general will. The people's first intention is clearly to ensure that the State does not perish. So suspending legislative authority does not in any sense abolish that authority. The official who silences legislative authority cannot speak on its behalf. He controls that authority but cannot represent it. He can do anything except make laws.

The first method was used by the Roman senate when, in a consecrated formula, it charged the consuls to provide for the safety of the Republic. The second was employed when one of the two consuls nominated a dictator:¹ a custom Rome borrowed from Alba.

The Roman senate used the first method, formally ordering the consuls to ensure the Republic’s safety through a sacred formula. The second method was used when one of the two consuls appointed a dictator:¹ a custom Rome borrowed from Alba.

During the first period of the Republic, recourse was very often had to the dictatorship, because the State had not yet a firm enough basis to be able to maintain itself by the strength of its constitution alone. As the state of morality then made superfluous many of the precautions which would have been necessary at other times, there was no fear that a dictator would abuse his authority, or try to keep it beyond his term of office. On the contrary, so much power appeared to be burdensome to him who was clothed with it, and he made all speed to lay it down, as if taking the place of the laws had been too troublesome and too perilous a position to retain.

In the early years of the Republic, dictators were appointed very often. This was because the State was not yet firmly established enough to survive through its constitution alone. Moral standards at the time made many precautions unnecessary, though those precautions would have been needed at other times. So there was no fear that a dictator would abuse his authority or try to stay in power beyond his term. On the contrary, such great power seemed a burden to the man who held it. He gave up his power as quickly as possible, as if replacing the laws were too troublesome and dangerous a position to keep.

It is therefore the danger not of its abuse, but of its cheapening, that makes me attack the indiscreet use of this supreme magistracy in the earliest times. For as long as it was freely employed at elections, dedications and purely formal functions, there was danger of its becoming less formidable in time of need, and of men growing accustomed to regarding as empty a title that was used only on occasions of empty ceremonial.

I therefore criticize the careless use of this supreme office in its early days because it risked losing its importance. The danger was not abuse, but loss of respect. As long as the office was freely used for elections, dedications, and purely formal duties, it risked becoming less intimidating when needed. People might grow used to seeing the title as meaningless, since it was used only for empty ceremonies.

Towards the end of the Republic, the Romans, having grown more circumspect, were as unreasonably sparing in the use of the dictatorship as they had formerly been lavish. It is easy to see that their fears were without foundation, that the weakness of the capital secured it against the magistrates who were in its midst; that a dictator might, in certain cases, defend the public liberty, but could never endanger it; and that the chains of Rome would be forged, not in Rome itself, but in her armies. The weak resistance offered by Marius to Sulla, and by Pompey to Cæsar, clearly showed what was to be expected from authority at home against force from abroad.

Toward the end of the Republic, the Romans had grown more cautious. They used the dictatorship as unreasonably rarely as they had once used it freely. It is easy to see that their fears had no basis. The capital’s weakness protected it against the magistrates within its walls. A dictator might, in certain cases, defend public freedom, but could never threaten that freedom. And Rome’s chains would be forged not in Rome itself, but in its armies. Marius offered little resistance to Sulla, and Pompey offered little resistance to Cæsar. Their weak resistance clearly showed what could be expected when authority at home faced military force from outside.

This misconception led the Romans to make great mistakes; such, for example, as the failure to nominate a dictator in the Catilinarian conspiracy. For, as only the city itself, with at most some province in Italy, was concerned, the unlimited authority the laws gave to the dictator would have enabled him to make short work of the conspiracy, which was, in fact, stifled only by a combination of lucky chances human prudence had no right to expect.

This misconception led the Romans to make serious mistakes, such as failing to appoint a dictator during the Catilinarian conspiracy. The conspiracy involved only the city itself and, at most, some province in Italy. Because its reach was so limited, a dictator could have quickly crushed it using the unlimited authority granted by law. In fact, the conspiracy was stopped only by a combination of lucky chances that no prudent person could reasonably expect.

Instead, the senate contented itself with entrusting its whole power to the consuls, so that Cicero, in order to take effective action, was compelled on a capital point to exceed his powers; and if, in the first transports of joy, his conduct was approved, he was justly called, later on, to account for the blood of citizens spilt in violation of the laws. Such a reproach could never have been levelled at a dictator. But the consul's eloquence carried the day; and he himself, Roman though he was, loved his own glory better than his country, and sought, not so much the most lawful and secure means of saving the State, as to get for himself the whole honour of having done so.² He was therefore justly honoured as the liberator of Rome, and also justly punished as a law-breaker. However brilliant his recall may have been, it was undoubtedly an act of pardon.

Instead, the senate simply entrusted all its power to the consuls. So, to act effectively, Cicero was forced to exceed his authority on a matter of life and death. And if his actions were approved in the first burst of joy, he was later rightly held accountable. He had shed citizens’ blood in violation of the law. A dictator could never have faced such an accusation. But the consul’s eloquence won the day. And Cicero himself, though a Roman, loved his own glory more than his country. He was less concerned with finding the most lawful and secure way to save the State. Instead, he wanted all the credit for saving the State.² He was therefore rightly honored as Rome’s liberator, and also rightly punished as a lawbreaker. However glorious his return from exile may have been, his recall was undoubtedly an act of pardon.

However this important trust be conferred, it is important that its duration should be fixed at a very brief period, incapable of being ever prolonged. In the crises which lead to its adoption, the State is either soon lost, or soon saved; and, the present need passed, the dictatorship becomes either tyrannical or idle. At Rome, where dictators held office for six months only, most of them abdicated before their time was up. If their term had been longer, they might well have tried to prolong it still further, as the decemvirs did when chosen for a year. The dictator had only time to provide against the need that had caused him to be chosen; he had none to think of further projects.

However this important responsibility is assigned, the term must be very short and must never be extended. In the crises that call for a dictatorship, the State is either soon lost or soon saved. Once the immediate need has passed, the dictatorship becomes either tyrannical or useless. At Rome, dictators held office for only six months, and most resigned before their terms ended. If their terms had been longer, they might well have tried to extend them further. The decemvirs did just that when appointed for a year. The dictator had only enough time to address the need that had led to his appointment. He had no time to think about further plans.