Shared Feeling as a Political Factor

PUBLISHED IN THE “CENTURY,” JANUARY, 1900

PUBLISHED IN THE “CENTURY,” JANUARY 1900

Fellow-feeling, sympathy in the broadest sense, is the most important factor in producing a healthy political and social life. Neither our national nor our local civil life can be what it should be unless it is marked by the fellow-feeling, the mutual kindness, the mutual respect, the sense of common duties and common interests, which arise when men take the trouble to understand one another, and to associate together for a common object. A very large share of the rancor of political and social strife arises either from sheer misunderstanding by one section, or by one class, of another, or else from the fact that the two sections, or two classes, are so cut off from each other that neither appreciates the other’s passions, prejudices, and, indeed, point of view, while they are both entirely ignorant of their community of feeling as regards the essentials of manhood and humanity.

Fellow feeling, or sympathy in the broadest sense, is the most important factor in creating a healthy political and social life. Our national and local civic life cannot be what it should be without fellow feeling, mutual kindness, and mutual respect. They also need a sense of shared duties and interests. These qualities arise when people take the trouble to understand one another and work together toward a common goal. Much of the bitterness in political and social conflict comes from one group or class simply misunderstanding another. It also arises when two groups or classes are so separated that neither understands the other's passions, prejudices, or point of view. Both are entirely unaware of the feelings they share about the essentials of manhood and humanity.

This is one reason why the public school is so admirable an institution. To it more than to any other among the many causes which, in our American life, tell for religious toleration is due the impossibility of persecution of a particular creed. When in their earliest and most impressionable years Protestants, Catholics, and Jews go to the same schools, learn the same lessons, play the same games, and are forced, in the rough-and-ready democracy of boy life, to take each at his true worth, it is impossible later to make the disciples of one creed persecute those of another. From the evils of religious persecution America is safe.

This is one reason why public schools are such admirable institutions. Many forces in American life promote religious tolerance. More than any other, public schools make it impossible to persecute a particular faith. In their earliest and most impressionable years, Protestants, Catholics, and Jews attend the same schools. They learn the same lessons and play the same games. In the rough-and-ready democracy of boys’ lives, they must judge one another by their true worth. As a result, it is impossible later to make followers of one faith persecute those of another. America is safe from the evils of religious persecution.

From the evils of sectional hostility we are, at any rate, far safer than we were. The war with Spain was the most absolutely righteous foreign war in which any nation has engaged during the nineteenth century, and not the least of its many good features was the unity it brought about between the sons of the men who wore the blue and of those who wore the gray. This necessarily meant the dying out of the old antipathy. Of course embers smoulder here and there; but the country at large is growing more and more to take pride in the valor, the self-devotion, the loyalty to an ideal, displayed alike by the soldiers of both sides in the Civil War. We are all united now. We are all glad that the Union was restored, and are one in our loyalty to it; and hand in hand with this general recognition of the all-importance of preserving the Union has gone the recognition of the fact that at the outbreak of the Civil War men could not cut loose from the ingrained habits and traditions of generations, and that the man from the North and the man from the South each was loyal to his highest ideal of duty when he drew sword or shouldered rifle to fight to the death for what he believed to be right.

At any rate, we are far safer from the evils of hostility between regions than we once were. The war with Spain was the most completely righteous foreign war any nation fought during the nineteenth century. Among its many good features was the unity it brought between the sons of the men who wore blue and those who wore gray. This unity necessarily meant that the old hostility was dying out. Of course, embers still smolder here and there. But the country as a whole increasingly takes pride in the courage, self-sacrifice, and loyalty to an ideal shown by soldiers on both sides of the Civil War. We are all united now. We are all glad that the Union was restored, and we are united in our loyalty to it. Along with the widespread recognition that preserving the Union was all-important has come another recognition. At the outbreak of the Civil War, men could not simply break free from habits and traditions ingrained over generations. Both the Northern man and the Southern man were loyal to their highest ideal of duty. Each drew a sword or took up a rifle to fight to the death for what he believed was right.

Nor is it only the North and the South that have struck hands. The East and the West are fundamentally closer together than ever before. Using the word “West” in the old sense, as meaning the country west of the Alleghanies, it is of course perfectly obvious that it is the West which will shape the destinies of this nation. The great group of wealthy and powerful States about the Upper Mississippi, the Ohio, the Missouri, and their tributaries, will have far more weight than any other section in deciding the fate of the Republic in the centuries that are opening. This is not in the least to be regretted by the East, for the simple and excellent reason that the interests of the West and the East are one. The West will shape our destinies because she will have more people and a greater territory, and because the whole development of the Western country is such as to make it peculiarly the exponent of all that is most vigorously and characteristically American in our national life.

The North and the South are not the only regions that have joined hands. The East and the West are closer together at heart than ever before. By “West,” I mean the country west of the Alleghanies, as the word was used in the past. Clearly, the West will shape the destiny of this nation. The wealthy and powerful states around the Upper Mississippi, the Ohio, the Missouri, and their tributaries form a great group. In the centuries ahead, they will have far more influence than any other region in deciding the Republic’s fate. The East has no reason to regret this, for the interests of the West and the East are the same. The West will shape our destiny because it will have more people and a greater territory. The West’s whole development also makes it a distinctive expression of all that is most vigorous and characteristically American in our national life.

So it is with the Pacific Slope, and the giant young States that are there growing by leaps and bounds. The greater the share they have in directing the national life, the better it will be for all of us.

The same is true of the Pacific Slope and its giant young states, which are growing rapidly. The more they help direct the nation's life, the better it will be for all of us.

I do not for a moment mean that mistakes will not be committed in every section of the country; they certainly will be, and in whatever section they are committed it will be our duty to protest against them, and to try to overthrow those who are responsible for them: but I do mean to say that in the long run each section is going to find that its welfare, instead of being antagonistic to, is indissolubly bound up in, the welfare of other sections; and the growth of means of communication, the growth of education in its highest and finest sense, means the growth in the sense of solidarity throughout the country, in the feeling of patriotic pride of each American in the deeds of all other Americans—of pride in the past history and present and future greatness of the whole country.

I do not mean for a moment that mistakes will not be made in every part of the country. They certainly will be. Wherever mistakes are made, we must protest against them and try to remove those responsible. But in the long run, each part of the country will find that its welfare is inseparably linked to the welfare of other parts, not opposed to it. As communication improves and education grows in its highest and finest sense, solidarity across the country grows too. So does every American’s sense of patriotic pride in the deeds of all other Americans. And so does pride in the whole country’s past history and its present and future greatness.

Nobody is interested in the fact that Dewey comes from Vermont, Hobson from Alabama, or Funston from Kansas. If all three came from the same county it would make no difference to us. They are Americans, and every American has an equal right to challenge his share of glory in their deeds. As we read of the famous feats of our army in the Philippines, it matters nothing to us whether the regiments come from Oregon, Idaho, California, Nebraska, Pennsylvania, or Tennessee. What does matter is that these splendid soldiers are all Americans; that they are our heroes; that our blood runs in their veins; that the flag under which we live is the flag for which they have fought, for which some of them have died.

Nobody cares that Dewey comes from Vermont, Hobson from Alabama, or Funston from Kansas. If all three came from the same county, it would make no difference to us. They are Americans, and every American has an equal right to claim a share of the glory in their deeds. As we read about our army’s famous feats in the Philippines, it does not matter where the regiments come from. They may come from Oregon, Idaho, California, Nebraska, Pennsylvania, or Tennessee. What matters is that these splendid soldiers are all Americans. They are our heroes, and our blood runs in their veins. The flag under which we live is the flag they fought for, and some of them died for it.

Danger from religious antipathy is dead, and from sectional antipathy dying; but there are at times very ugly manifestations of antipathy between class and class. It seems a pity to have to use the word “class,” because there are really no classes in our American life in the sense in which the word “class” is used in Europe. Our social and political systems do not admit of them in theory, and in practice they exist only in a very fluid state. In most European countries classes are separated by rigid boundaries, which can be crossed but rarely, and with the utmost difficulty and peril. Here the boundaries can not properly be said to exist, and are certainly so fluctuating and evasive, so indistinctly marked, that they can not be appreciated when seen near by. Any American family which lasts a few generations will be apt to have representatives in all the different classes. The great business men, even the great professional men, and especially the great statesmen and sailors and soldiers, are very apt to spring from among the farmers or wage-workers, and their kinsfolk remain near the old home or at the old trade. If ever there existed in the world a community where the identity of interest, of habit, of principle, and of ideals should be felt as a living force, ours is the one. Speaking generally, it really is felt to a degree quite unknown in other countries of our size. There are, doubtless, portions of Norway and Switzerland where the social and political ideals, and their nearness to realization, are not materially different from those of the most essentially American portions of our own land; but this is not true of any European country of considerable size. It is only in American communities that we see the farmer, the hired man, the lawyer, and the merchant, and possibly even the officer of the army or the navy, all kinsmen, and all accepting their relations as perfectly natural and simple. This is eminently healthy. This is just as it should be in our Republic. It represents the ideal toward which it would be a good thing to approximate everywhere. In the great industrial centres, with their highly complex, highly specialized conditions, it is of course merely an ideal. There are parts even of our oldest States, as, for example, New York, where this ideal is actually realized; there are other parts, particularly the great cities, where the life is so wholly different that the attempt to live up precisely to the country conditions would be artificial and impossible. Nevertheless, the fact remains that the only true solution of our political and social problems lies in cultivating everywhere the spirit of brotherhood, of fellow-feeling and understanding between man and man, and the willingness to treat a man as a man, which are the essential factors in American democracy as we still see it in the country districts.

The danger from religious hostility is dead, and the danger from hostility between regions is dying. But at times there are very ugly displays of hostility between classes. It seems a pity to have to use the word “class.” In American life, there are really no classes in the European sense of the word. Our social and political systems do not allow for classes in theory. In practice, classes exist only in a very fluid state. In most European countries, rigid boundaries separate the classes. People can rarely cross those boundaries, and then only with great difficulty and danger. Here, we can hardly say that such boundaries exist. They certainly shift and change so much, and are so indistinct, that they cannot be recognized up close. Any American family that lasts a few generations is likely to have members in all the different classes. Great business leaders and even great professionals are very likely to come from farming or wage-working families. This is especially true of great statesmen, sailors, and soldiers. Their relatives remain near the old home or continue in the old trade. If any community in the world should feel its shared interests, habits, principles, and ideals as a living force, ours is that community. Generally speaking, we do feel this bond to a degree quite unknown in other countries of our size. No doubt, parts of Norway and Switzerland have social and political ideals much like those of the most thoroughly American parts of our own land. They also come about as close to realizing those ideals. But this is not true of any European country of considerable size. Only in American communities do we see the farmer, the hired man, the lawyer, and the merchant all related. Possibly even an army or navy officer is related to them. And all accept their family ties as perfectly natural and simple. This is very healthy. It is just as things should be in our Republic. It represents an ideal that would be good to approach everywhere. In the great industrial centers, with their highly complex and specialized conditions, it is of course only an ideal. In parts of even our oldest States, such as New York, this ideal is actually realized. In other parts, especially the great cities, life is entirely different. There, trying to live exactly as people do in the country would be artificial and impossible. Nevertheless, the only true solution to our political and social problems lies in cultivating a spirit of brotherhood everywhere. We must cultivate fellow feeling and understanding between people and a willingness to treat a man as a man. These are essential parts of American democracy, as we still see it in the country districts.

The chief factor in producing such sympathy is simply association on a plane of equality, and for a common object. Any healthy-minded American is bound to think well of his fellow-Americans if he only gets to know them. The trouble is that he does not know them. If the banker and the farmer never meet, or meet only in the most perfunctory business way, if the banking is not done by men whom the farmer knows as his friends and associates, a spirit of mistrust is almost sure to spring up. If the merchant or the manufacturer, the lawyer or the clerk, never meets the mechanic or the handicraftsman, save on rare occasions, when the meeting may be of a hostile kind, each side feels that the other is alien and naturally antagonistic. But if any one individual of any group were to be thrown into natural association with another group, the difficulties would be found to disappear so far as he was concerned. Very possibly he would become the ardent champion of the other group.

The main way to build such sympathy is simply to associate as equals in pursuit of a common goal. Any healthy-minded American is sure to think well of his fellow Americans if he gets to know them. The trouble is that he does not know them. If the banker and the farmer never meet, or meet only briefly on business, mistrust is almost sure to develop. The same is true if the farmer does not know the men who handle his banking as friends and associates. If the merchant, manufacturer, lawyer, or clerk rarely meets the mechanic or craftsperson, each side feels the other is a stranger and naturally hostile. Such rare meetings may even be hostile. But if one person from any group were to spend time naturally with another group, those difficulties would disappear for him. He might even become an enthusiastic champion of the other group.

Perhaps I may be pardoned for quoting my own experience as an instance in point. Outside of college boys and politicians my first intimate associates were ranchmen, cow-punchers, and game-hunters, and I speedily became convinced that there were no other men in the country who were their equals. Then I was thrown much with farmers, and I made up my mind that it was the farmer upon whom the foundations of the commonwealth really rested—that the farmer was the archetypical good American. Then I saw a good deal of railroad men, and after quite an intimate acquaintance with them I grew to feel that, especially in their higher ranks, they typified the very qualities of courage, self-reliance, self-command, hardihood, capacity for work, power of initiative, and power of obedience, which we like most to associate with the American name. Then I happened to have dealings with certain carpenters’ unions, and grew to have a great respect for the carpenter, for the mechanic type. By this time it dawned upon me that they were all pretty good fellows, and that my championship of each set in succession above all other sets had sprung largely from the fact that I was very familiar with the set I championed, and less familiar with the remainder. In other words, I had grown into sympathy with, into understanding of, group after group, with the effect that I invariably found that they and I had common purposes and a common standpoint. We differed among ourselves, or agreed among ourselves, not because we had different occupations or the same occupation, but because of our ways of looking at life.

Perhaps I may be forgiven for using my own experience as an example. Apart from college students and politicians, my first close associates were ranchers, cowboys, and game hunters. I soon became convinced that no other men in the country were their equals. Then I spent a great deal of time with farmers. I decided that the farmer was the true foundation of the nation and the model of a good American. Then I spent a good deal of time with railroad workers and got to know them quite well. I came to feel that they showed the very qualities we most like to associate with the American name. This was especially true of those in their higher ranks. Those qualities were courage, self-reliance, self-control, toughness, a capacity for work, initiative, and the ability to obey. Then I happened to deal with certain carpenters’ unions. I came to have great respect for carpenters and skilled tradesmen. By then, it dawned on me that they were all pretty good fellows. I had championed each group in turn above all the others largely because I knew that group well. I knew the others less well. In other words, I had come to understand and sympathize with one group after another. As a result, I always found that we shared common purposes and a common outlook. We disagreed or agreed with one another because of our ways of looking at life, not because of our occupations.

It is this capacity for sympathy, for fellow-feeling and mutual understanding, which must lie at the basis of all really successful movements for good government and the betterment of social and civic conditions. There is no patent device for bringing about good government. Still less is there any patent device for remedying social evils and doing away with social inequalities. Wise legislation can help in each case, and crude, vicious, or demagogic legislation can do an infinity of harm. But the betterment must come through the slow workings of the same forces which always have tended for righteousness, and always will.

The ability to sympathize, share others’ feelings, and understand one another must be the foundation of every truly successful movement for good government and better social and civic conditions. There is no ready-made solution for achieving good government. Still less is there a ready-made solution for curing social evils and eliminating social inequalities. Wise laws can help in both cases. But crude, harmful, or demagogic laws can do endless harm. Improvement must come slowly, through the same forces that have always worked toward what is right and always will.

The prime lesson to be taught is the lesson of treating each man on his worth as a man, and of remembering that while sometimes it is necessary, from both a legislative and social standpoint, to consider men as a class, yet in the long run our safety lies in recognizing the individual’s worth or lack of worth as the chief basis of action, and in shaping our whole conduct, and especially our political conduct, accordingly. It is impossible for a democracy to endure if the political lines are drawn to coincide with class lines. The resulting government, whether of the upper or of the lower class, is not a government of the whole people, but a government of part of the people at the expense of the rest. Where the lines of political division are vertical, the men of each occupation and of every social standing separating according to their vocations and principles, the result is healthy and normal. Just so far, however, as the lines are drawn horizontally, the result is unhealthy, and in the long run disastrous, for such a division means that men are pitted against one another in accordance with the blind and selfish interests of the moment. Each is thus placed over against his neighbor in an attitude of greedy class hostility, which becomes the mainspring of his conduct, instead of each basing his political action upon his own convictions as to what is advisable and what inadvisable, and upon his own disinterested sense of devotion to the interests of the whole community as he sees them. Republics have fallen in the past primarily because the parties that controlled them divided along the lines of class, so that inevitably the triumph of one or the other implied the supremacy of a part over the whole. The result might be an oligarchy, or it might be mob rule; it mattered little which, as regards the ultimate effect, for in both cases tyranny and anarchy were sure to alternate. The failure of the Greek and Italian republics was fundamentally due to this cause. Switzerland has flourished because the divisions upon which her political issues have been fought have not been primarily those of mere caste or social class, and America will flourish and will become greater than any empire because, in the long run, in this country, any party which strives to found itself upon sectional or class jealousy and hostility must go down before the good sense of the people.

The chief lesson is to treat each man according to his worth as a man. Sometimes we must consider men as a class, both in lawmaking and in social life. But in the long run, our safety depends chiefly on recognizing each individual’s worth or lack of worth. We must make that the basis of our conduct, especially our political conduct. A democracy cannot endure if its political divisions follow class lines. The resulting government may be ruled by the upper class or the lower class. Either way, it is not a government of the whole people. It is a government of one part of the people at the expense of the rest. When political divisions run vertically, the result is healthy and normal. Men of every occupation and social standing divide according to their occupations and principles. But to the extent that the divisions run horizontally, the result is unhealthy and ultimately disastrous. Such a division pits men against one another according to the blind and selfish interests of the moment. Each man faces his neighbor with greedy class hostility as the driving force of his conduct. Instead, each should base his political actions on his own convictions about what is wise and unwise. He should act from a selfless devotion to the interests of the whole community as he sees them. Republics have fallen in the past chiefly because their ruling parties divided along class lines. The victory of either party therefore meant that one part inevitably ruled over the whole. The result might be rule by a small elite, or it might be mob rule. In the end, it mattered little which prevailed. In both cases, tyranny and anarchy were sure to alternate. This was the fundamental cause of the failure of the Greek and Italian republics. Switzerland has flourished because its political disputes have not been fought mainly along lines of caste or social class. America will flourish and become greater than any empire because, in the long run, the people’s good sense will defeat any party that tries to build itself on jealousy and hostility between regions or classes.

The only way to provide against the evils of a horizontal cleavage in politics is to encourage the growth of fellow-feeling, of a feeling based on the relations of man to man, and not of class to class. In the country districts this is not very difficult. In the neighborhood where I live, on the Fourth of July the four Protestant ministers and the Catholic priest speak from the same platform, the children of all of us go to the same district school, and the landowner and the hired man take the same views, not merely of politics, but of duck-shooting and of international yacht races. Naturally in such a community there is small chance for class division. There is a slight feeling against the mere summer residents, precisely because there is not much sympathy with them, and because they do not share in our local interests; but otherwise there are enough objects in common to put all much on the same plane of interest in various important particulars, and each man has too much self-respect to feel particularly jealous of any other man. Moreover, as the community is small and consists for the most part of persons who have dwelt long in the land, while those of foreign ancestry, instead of keeping by themselves, have intermarried with the natives, there is still a realizing sense of kinship among the men who follow the different occupations. The characteristic family names are often borne by men of widely different fortunes, ranging from the local bayman through the captain of the oyster-sloop, the sail-maker, or the wheelright, to the owner of what the countryside may know as the manor-house—which probably contains one of the innumerable rooms in which Washington is said to have slept. We have sharp rivalries, and our politics are by no means always what they should be, but at least we do not divide on class lines, for the very good reason that there has been no crystallization into classes.

The only way to prevent the evils of political division along class lines is to encourage a sense of fellowship. It must be based on relations between people, not between classes. In rural areas, this is not very difficult. In my neighborhood, the four Protestant ministers and the Catholic priest speak from the same platform on the Fourth of July. All our children attend the same local school. Landowners and hired workers share the same views, not just on politics, but also on duck hunting and international yacht races. Naturally, there is little chance of class division in such a community. There is some resentment toward people who live here only in summer. That is precisely because there is little sympathy with them and because they do not share our local interests. Otherwise, we have enough in common to put us all on much the same footing in several important respects. Each man has too much self-respect to feel particularly jealous of another. The community is small and made up mostly of people who have lived here a long time. Those of foreign ancestry have intermarried with the natives instead of keeping to themselves. As a result, men in different occupations still have a real sense of kinship. Men of widely different fortunes often share the family names common to the area. They range from the local bay fisherman to the captain of an oyster sloop, the sailmaker, the wheelwright, and the owner of what the countryside may call the manor house. The manor house probably contains one of the countless rooms where Washington is said to have slept. We have fierce rivalries, and our politics are by no means always what they should be. But at least we do not divide along class lines, for the very good reason that we have not formed distinct classes.

This condition prevails in essentials throughout the country districts of New York, which are politically very much the healthiest districts. Any man who has served in the Legislature realizes that the country members form, on the whole, a very sound and healthy body of legislators. Any man who has gone about much to the county fairs in New York—almost the only place where the farm folks gather in large numbers—can not but have been struck by the high character of the average countryman. He is a fine fellow, rugged, hard-working, shrewd, and keenly alive to the fundamental virtues. He and his brethren of the smaller towns and villages, in ordinary circumstances, take very little account, indeed, of any caste difference; they greet each man strictly on his merits as a man, and therefore form a community in which there is singularly little caste spirit, and in which men associate on a thoroughly healthy and American ground of common ideals, common convictions, and common sympathies.

This condition exists in its essentials throughout the rural districts of New York. Politically, these districts are by far the healthiest in the state. Anyone who has served in the Legislature knows that rural members are, on the whole, a very sound and healthy group of legislators. Anyone who has visited many county fairs in New York cannot help noticing the high character of the average countryman. County fairs are almost the only places where farm people gather in large numbers. The average countryman is a fine fellow, rugged, hardworking, shrewd, and keenly aware of the basic virtues. He and his fellow residents of small towns and villages ordinarily pay very little attention to differences in social class. They judge each man strictly on his merits as a man. As a result, their communities have remarkably little class prejudice. Men associate on the thoroughly healthy and American basis of shared ideals, convictions, and sympathies.

Unfortunately, this can not be said of the larger cities, where the conditions of life are so complicated that there has been an extreme differentiation and specialization in every species of occupation, whether of business or pleasure. The people of a certain degree of wealth and of a certain occupation may never come into any real contact with the people of another occupation, of another social standing. The tendency is for the relations always to be between class and class instead of between individual and individual. This produces the thoroughly unhealthy belief that it is for the interest of one class as against another to have its class representatives dominant in public life. The ills of any such system are obvious. As a matter of fact, the enormous mass of our legislation and administration ought to be concerned with matters that are strictly for the commonweal; and where special legislation or administration is needed, as it often must be, for a certain class, the need can be met primarily by mere honesty and common sense. But if men are elected solely from any caste, or on any caste theory, the voter gradually substitutes the theory of allegiance to the caste for the theory of allegiance to the commonwealth as a whole, and instead of demanding as fundamental the qualities of probity and broad intelligence—which are the indispensable qualities in securing the welfare of the whole—as the first consideration, he demands, as a substitute, zeal in the service, or apparent service of the class, which is quite compatible with gross corruption outside. In short, we get back to the conditions which foredoomed democracy to failure in the ancient Greek and mediæval republics, where party lines were horizontal and class warred against class, each in consequence necessarily substituting devotion to the interest of a class for devotion to the interest of the state and to the elementary ideas of morality.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of larger cities. Life there is so complicated that every kind of occupation, whether in business or pleasure, has become highly specialized. People of a certain wealth and occupation may never have real contact with people of another occupation or social standing. Relationships tend to be between classes rather than between individuals. This creates the deeply unhealthy belief that each class benefits by having its own representatives dominate public life. The harms of such a system are obvious. In fact, the vast majority of our laws and public administration should deal with matters that serve the common good. Special laws or administration are often needed for a particular class. But honesty and common sense are the main things needed to meet that need. However, men may be elected solely from one caste, or on the principle that a caste should be represented. If so, the voter gradually puts loyalty to the caste above loyalty to the commonwealth as a whole. He no longer demands honesty and broad intelligence as the first and fundamental requirements for office. Yet these qualities are indispensable to securing the welfare of everyone. Instead, he demands zeal in serving, or appearing to serve, the class. Such zeal can exist alongside gross corruption in other matters. In short, we return to the conditions that doomed democracy to failure in the ancient Greek and medieval republics. There, party lines ran horizontally, and class fought against class. As a result, each class necessarily put loyalty to its own interests above loyalty to the state and to basic moral principles.

The only way to avoid the growth of these evils is, so far as may be, to help in the creation of conditions which will permit mutual understanding and fellow-feeling between the members of different classes. To do this it is absolutely necessary that there should be natural association between the members for a common end or with a common purpose. As long as men are separated by their caste lines, each body having its own amusements, interests, and occupations, they are certain to regard one another with that instinctive distrust which they feel for foreigners. There are exceptions to the rule, but it is a rule. The average man, when he has no means of being brought into contact with another, or of gaining any insight into that other’s ideas and aspirations, either ignores these ideas and aspirations completely, or else feels toward them a more or less tepid dislike. The result is a complete and perhaps fatal misunderstanding, due primarily to the fact that the capacity for fellow-feeling is given no opportunity to flourish. On the other hand, if the men can be mixed together in some way that will loosen the class or caste bonds and put each on his merits as an individual man, there is certain to be a regrouping independent of caste lines. A tie may remain between the members of a caste, based merely upon the similarity of their habits of life; but this will be much less strong than the ties based on identity of passion, of principle, or of ways of looking at life. Any man who has ever, for his good fortune, been obliged to work with men in masses, in some place or under some condition or in some association where the dislocation of caste was complete, must recognize the truth of this as apparent. Every mining-camp, every successful volunteer regiment, proves it. In such cases there is always some object which must be attained, and the men interested in its attainment have to develop their own leaders and their own ties of association, while the would-be leader can succeed only by selecting for assistants the men whose peculiar capacities fit them to do the best work in the various emergencies that arise. Under such circumstances the men who work together for the achievement of a common result in which they are intensely interested are very soon certain to disregard, and, indeed, to forget, the creed or race origin or antecedent social standing or class occupation of the man who is either their friend or their foe. They get down to the naked bed-rock of character and capacity.

The only way to prevent these evils from growing is to help create conditions that allow understanding and sympathy between classes. We must do this as far as we can. To achieve it, members of different classes must naturally come together for a common goal or purpose. As long as men are separated by class, each group has its own amusements, interests, and occupations. They are certain to view one another with the instinctive distrust they feel toward foreigners. There are exceptions, but this is the rule. The average man may have no way to meet another man or gain insight into his ideas and aspirations. He then either ignores those ideas and aspirations completely or feels a more or less mild dislike for them. The result is a complete and perhaps fatal misunderstanding. It is caused mainly by the lack of any opportunity for sympathy to flourish. On the other hand, men may be brought together in a way that loosens class bonds and judges each man on his individual merits. They are then certain to form new groups that cross class lines. Members of a class may still feel a bond based simply on their similar habits of life. But that bond will be much weaker than ties based on shared passions, principles, or ways of looking at life. Some men have had the good fortune to work with large groups of men where class distinctions had completely broken down. Any man who has done so must recognize how plainly true this is. Every mining camp and every successful volunteer regiment proves it. In such cases, there is always some goal that must be reached. The men working toward it must develop their own leaders and their own bonds with one another. Anyone seeking to lead can succeed only by choosing assistants whose particular abilities best suit the various emergencies that arise. In these circumstances, the men work together to achieve a result they care about deeply. They are very soon certain to disregard, and indeed to forget, the religion, race, previous social standing, or class occupation of the man who is their friend or their enemy. They get down to the bare bedrock of character and ability.

This is to a large extent true of the party organizations in a great city, and, indeed, of all serious political organizations. If they are to be successful they must necessarily be democratic, in the sense that each man is treated strictly on his merits as a man. No one can succeed who attempts to go in on any other basis; above all, no one can succeed if he goes in feeling that, instead of merely doing his duty, he is conferring a favor upon the community, and is therefore warranted in adopting an attitude of condescension toward his fellows. It is often quite as irritating to be patronized as to be plundered; as reformers have more than once discovered when the mass of the voters stolidly voted against them, and in favor of a gang of familiar scoundrels, chiefly because they had no sense of fellow-feeling with their would-be benefactors.

This is largely true of party organizations in a great city, and indeed of all serious political organizations. To succeed, they must be democratic. That means treating each man strictly on his merits as a man. No one can succeed who tries to join on any other basis. Above all, no one can succeed if he thinks he is doing the community a favor, rather than simply doing his duty. He cannot succeed if he thinks this gives him the right to look down on his fellow members. Being patronized is often just as irritating as being robbed. Reformers have discovered this more than once when most voters stubbornly voted against them and for a gang of familiar scoundrels. They did so chiefly because they felt no sense of kinship with those who wanted to help them.

The tendency to patronize is certain to be eradicated as soon as any man goes into politics in a practical and not in a dilettante fashion. He speedily finds that the quality of successful management, the power to handle men and secure results, may exist in seemingly unlikely persons. If he intends to carry a caucus or primary, or elect a given candidate, or secure a certain piece of legislation or administration, he will have to find out and work with innumerable allies, and make use of innumerable subordinates. Given that he and they have a common object, the one test that he must apply to them is as to their ability to help in achieving that object. The result is that in a very short time the men whose purposes are the same forget about all differences, save in capacity to carry out the purpose. The banker who is interested in seeing a certain nomination made or a certain election carried forgets everything but his community of interest with the retail butcher who is a leader along his section of the avenue, or the starter who can control a considerable number of the motormen; and in return the butcher and the starter accept the banker quite naturally as an ally whom they may follow or lead, as circumstances dictate. In other words, all three grow to feel in common on certain important subjects, and this fellow-feeling has results as far-reaching as they are healthy.

Any man who enters politics in a practical way, rather than as a casual amateur, will surely lose any tendency to patronize others. He soon discovers that people who seem unlikely can be effective managers, able to work with people and get results. He may want to win a caucus or primary, elect a candidate, or secure a particular law or administrative action. To do so, he will have to find and work with countless allies and make use of countless subordinates. If they share his goal, he must judge them by one test: their ability to help achieve it. As a result, men who share a purpose soon forget all differences except their ability to carry it out. A banker may want to see a particular nomination made or an election won. He forgets everything except his shared interest with the retail butcher who is a leader in his part of the avenue. The same is true of his shared interest with the starter who can influence a considerable number of streetcar drivers. In return, the butcher and the starter naturally accept the banker as an ally. They may follow or lead him, as circumstances dictate. In other words, all three come to share feelings about certain important subjects. This sense of fellowship has results as far-reaching as they are healthy.

Good thus follows from mere ordinary political affiliation. A man who has taken an active part in the political life of a great city possesses an incalculable advantage over his fellow-citizens who have not so taken part, because normally he has more understanding than they can possibly have of the attitude of mind, the passions, prejudices, hopes, and animosities of his fellow-citizens, with whom he would not ordinarily be brought into business or social contact. Of course there are plenty of exceptions to this rule. A man who is drawn into politics from absolutely selfish reasons, and especially a rich man who merely desires to buy political promotion, may know absolutely nothing that is of value as to any but the basest side of the human nature with which his sphere of contact has been enlarged; and, on the other hand, a wise employer of labor, or a philanthropist in whom zeal and judgment balance each other, may know far more than most politicians. But the fact remains that the effect of political life, and of the associations that it brings, is of very great benefit in producing a better understanding and a keener fellow-feeling among men who otherwise would know one another not at all, or else as members of alien bodies or classes.

Even ordinary involvement in politics brings benefits. A man active in the political life of a great city has an incalculable advantage over fellow citizens who are not. He normally understands some of his fellow citizens better than those who are not involved in politics possibly can. He knows more about their outlook, passions, prejudices, hopes, and hostilities. These are people he would not ordinarily meet through business or social life. Of course, there are plenty of exceptions to this rule. A man may enter politics for entirely selfish reasons. He may learn nothing of value beyond the basest side of human nature, despite the wider range of people he meets. This is especially true of a rich man who merely wants to buy political advancement. On the other hand, a wise employer or a philanthropist whose enthusiasm is balanced by good judgment may know far more than most politicians. But the fact remains that political life brings people together. These associations are greatly beneficial because they foster better understanding and stronger fellow feeling among men. Otherwise, these men would not know one another at all, or would see one another as members of alien groups or classes.

This being the case, how much more is it true if the same habit of association for a common purpose can be applied where the purpose is really of the highest! Much is accomplished in this way by the university settlements and similar associations. Wherever these associations are entered into in a healthy and sane spirit, the good they do is incalculable, from the simple fact that they bring together in pursuit of a worthy common object men of excellent character, who would never otherwise meet. It is of just as much importance to the one as to the other that the man from Hester Street or the Bowery or Avenue B, and the man from the Riverside Drive or Fifth Avenue, should have some meeting-ground where they can grow to understand one another as an incident of working for a common end. Of course if, on the one hand, the work is entered into in a patronizing spirit, no good will result; and, on the other hand, if the zealous enthusiast loses his sanity, only harm will follow. There is much dreadful misery in a great city, and a high-spirited, generous young man, when first brought into contact with it, has his sympathies so excited that he is very apt to become a socialist, or turn to the advocacy of any wild scheme, courting a plunge from bad to worse, exactly as do too many of the leaders of the discontent around him. His sanity and cool-headedness will be thoroughly tried, and if he loses them his power for good will vanish.

If this is true, how much more true is it when people join together for the highest of purposes! University settlements and similar associations accomplish much in this way. When people join them in a healthy and sensible spirit, the good they do is immeasurable. That is because they bring together men of excellent character who would never otherwise meet. These men work together toward a worthy goal. It is equally important for both the man from Hester Street, the Bowery, or Avenue B and the man from Riverside Drive or Fifth Avenue to have a place to meet. There, they can come to understand each other while working toward a common goal. Of course, if the work is done in a patronizing spirit, no good will result. But if the eager enthusiast loses his good sense, only harm will follow. There is terrible misery in a great city. When a spirited, generous young man first encounters it, his sympathy is deeply stirred. As a result, he is very likely to become a socialist or advocate some wild scheme. He risks making a bad situation worse, just as too many leaders of the discontented people around him do. His good sense and cool-headedness will be severely tested. If he loses them, he will also lose his power to do good.

But this is merely to state one form of a general truth. If a man permits largeness of heart to degenerate into softness of head, he inevitably becomes a nuisance in any relation of life. If sympathy becomes distorted and morbid, it hampers instead of helping the effort toward social betterment. Yet without sympathy, without fellow-feeling, no permanent good can be accomplished. In any healthy community there must be a solidarity of sentiment and a knowledge of solidarity of interest among the different members. Where this solidarity ceases to exist, where there is no fellow-feeling, the community is ripe for disaster. Of course the fellow-feeling may be of value much in proportion as it is unconscious. A sentiment that is easy and natural is far better than one which has to be artificially stimulated. But the artificial stimulus is better than none, and with fellow-feeling, as with all other emotions, what is started artificially may become quite natural in its continuance. With most men courage is largely an acquired habit, and on the first occasions when it is called for it necessitates the exercise of will-power and self-control; but by exercise it gradually becomes almost automatic.

But this is just one form of a general truth. If a man lets a generous heart become a foolish mind, he inevitably becomes a nuisance in every part of life. If sympathy becomes distorted and unhealthy, it hinders efforts to improve society instead of helping them. Yet without sympathy, without fellow feeling, no lasting good can be accomplished. In any healthy community, members must feel a sense of unity and recognize that their interests are shared. When this unity disappears and there is no fellow feeling, the community is ripe for disaster. Of course, fellow feeling may be most valuable when people are unaware of it. A feeling that comes easily and naturally is far better than one that must be deliberately encouraged. But deliberate encouragement is better than none. And with fellow feeling, as with all other emotions, what begins through deliberate effort may become quite natural over time. For most men, courage is largely a habit they acquire. The first few times courage is needed, it requires willpower and self-control. But with practice, it gradually becomes almost automatic.

So it is with fellow-feeling. A man who conscientiously endeavors to throw in his lot with those about him, to make his interests theirs, to put himself in a position where he and they have a common object, will at first feel a little self-conscious, will realize too plainly his own aims. But with exercise this will pass off. He will speedily find that the fellow-feeling which at first he had to stimulate was really existent, though latent, and is capable of a very healthy growth. It can, of course, become normal only when the man himself becomes genuinely interested in the object which he and his fellows are striving to attain. It is therefore obviously desirable that this object should possess a real and vital interest for every one. Such is the case with a proper political association.

The same is true of fellow feeling. A man may sincerely try to join those around him, make their interests his own, and share a common goal with them. At first, he will feel a little self-conscious and too aware of his own aims. But with practice, this feeling will pass. He will soon find that the fellow feeling he first had to encourage was already there, though hidden. He will also find that it can grow in a very healthy way. Of course, it can become natural only when the man becomes genuinely interested in the goal he and his fellows are pursuing. It is therefore clearly desirable that this goal should be of real and vital interest to everyone. That is true of a proper political association.

Much has been done, not merely by the ordinary political associations, but by the city clubs, civic federations, and the like, and very much more can be done. Of course there is danger of any such association being perverted either by knavery or folly. When a partisan political organization becomes merely an association for purposes of plunder and patronage, it may be a menace instead of a help to a community; and when a non-partisan political organization falls under the control of the fantastic extremists always attracted to such movements, in its turn it becomes either useless or noxious. But if these organizations, partisan or non-partisan, are conducted along the lines of sanity and honesty, they produce a good more far-reaching than their promoters suppose, and achieve results of greater importance than those immediately aimed at.

Much has been done not only by ordinary political groups, but also by city clubs, civic federations, and similar organizations. Much more can be done. Of course, any such organization risks being corrupted by dishonesty or foolishness. A partisan political organization may become nothing more than a group seeking to steal and hand out political favors. When that happens, it may threaten a community rather than help it. Nonpartisan political organizations also attract extreme people with strange ideas. When those people take control, the organization becomes either useless or harmful. But partisan and nonpartisan organizations alike can be run sensibly and honestly. If they are, they do more good than their organizers imagine. They also achieve results more important than those they set out to accomplish.

It is an excellent thing to win a triumph for good government at a given election; but it is a far better thing gradually to build up that spirit of fellow-feeling among American citizens, which, in the long run, is absolutely necessary if we are to see the principles of virile honesty and robust common-sense triumph in our civic life.

Winning an election for good government is an excellent thing. But it is far better to gradually build a spirit of mutual understanding among American citizens. In the long run, that spirit is absolutely necessary if strong honesty and sound common sense are to triumph in our public life.