Summary: Democracy in America (page 6)

In reality, the danger lies elsewhere—not in revolution, but in the disappearance of man's capacity for revolt: Will I be able to say this amid the ruins that surround me? What I fear most for the generations to come are not revolutions ¹.

Tocqueville fears that, in a democratic system, men—driven by their individualism—will come to pursue only their own narrow private interests and tranquillity, rejecting any new theory or innovation as a source of disturbance.

The danger in democracies is that they become rigid, bound to the same institutions, prejudices, and customs, causing humanity to stagnate and confine itself; that the mind endlessly folds in upon itself, ceasing to produce new ideas; that man exhausts himself in small, solitary, and sterile motions, and that despite constant agitation, humanity ceases to progress ².

A second danger looms: in a democracy, man remains independent—individualistic—and thus weak. He may then instinctively turn his gaze towards that immense entity—the only one rising above universal degradation ³—namely, the State.

Moreover, citizens are naturally inclined to grant ever more power to the State, since their passion for equality makes them intolerant of power held by their fellow citizens. (For the love of equality grows unceasingly alongside equality itself ⁴.) They therefore prefer to vest this power in the State.

Gradually, the State amasses all powers. It takes it upon itself to provide bread for the hungry, asylum for the sick, and work for the idle. Education and charity thus become matters of national concern.

In an aristocracy, power was confined to directing citizens in matters of national interest alone. Beyond this, it left them free.

In a democracy, the government, considering itself responsible for the actions and individual destinies of its citizens, takes it upon itself to guide and enlighten each of them in every aspect of life—and, if necessary, to make them happy against their will.

Before Tocqueville's eyes, two revolutions unfold in opposite directions: one relentlessly weakens power, while the other steadily strengthens it. Never before has power appeared both so weak and so strong at once.

Thus, democracies can give rise to a new form of despotism, which Tocqueville describes in a celebrated passage. This would be a form of 'soft' despotism, where rulers are not tyrants but tutors—yet far more pervasive than classical despotism, reaching into every aspect of citizens' lives, as we have just seen.

This phenomenon is so unprecedented that it calls for either new terminology or a more precise description:

I wish to imagine the new form despotism might take in the world: I see an innumerable crowd of alike and equal men, ceaselessly revolving around themselves, seeking petty and base pleasures with which to fill their souls ⁵.

Tocqueville points to their individualism: Each of them, withdrawn into himself, is a stranger to the fate of all others; his children and friends make up, for him, the whole of mankind ⁶.

The State becomes their sole bond: Above them rises an immense and tutelary power, which alone undertakes to secure their comfort and oversee their fate. It is absolute, meticulous, systematic, far-sighted, and gentle ⁷.

The relationship between this State and its citizens resembles that of a father and his children. However, the comparison has its limits: It would resemble paternal authority if, like it, its aim were to prepare men for adulthood; but, on the contrary, it seeks only to keep them irrevocably in childhood: it welcomes their happiness—so long as they think only of being happy ⁸.

Tocqueville again underlines the vast reach of state power:

It willingly labours for their happiness, yet insists on being its sole agent and arbiter [...] It watches over their security, directs their industry, regulates their inheritance... What, indeed, can it not do to relieve them entirely of the burden of thought and the burden of living?

It does not break wills, but softens, bends, and guides them; it does not tyrannise, but hinders, constrains, enervates, extinguishes, and stupefies, until it finally reduces each nation to nothing more than a herd of timid and industrious animals, with the government as their shepherd ⁹.

This passage can be read as a liberal critique of the welfare state, so dear to socialism.

Tocqueville refrains from passing judgment on the new society taking shape. As an aristocrat, he declines to pronounce on the merits of the emerging democratic regimes: We must not judge emerging societies by the ideas we have inherited from those that no longer exist. That would be unjust, for these societies, differing prodigiously from one another, are incomparable ¹⁰.

His aim is merely to highlight the risks that the love of equality may pose to democracy—foremost among them the threat to individual freedom.

Indeed, equality cannot be undone—any reactionary notion of a return to aristocracy is futile, since the shift to democracy is a providential phenomenon, as we have seen. Yet it remains within our power to determine whether equality leads to freedom or to despotism.

¹ II, p.360
² II, p.361
³ II, p.403
⁴ II, p.405
⁵ II, p.434
⁶ ibid.
⁷ ibid.
⁸ ibid.
⁹ ibid., p.434-435
¹⁰ II, p.454