The first [principle of democracy] is this: that the things common to all men are more important than the things peculiar to any men. Ordinary things are more valuable than extraordinary things; nay, they are more extraordinary. Man is something more awful than men; something more strange. The sense of the miracle of humanity itself should be always more vivid to us than any marvels of power, intellect, art, or civilization. The mere man on two legs, as such, should be felt as something more heartbreaking than any music and more startling than any caricature. Death is more tragic even than death by starvation. Having a nose is more comic even than having a Norman nose.
This is the first principle of democracy: that the essential things in men are the things they hold in common, not the things they hold separately. And the second principle is merely this: that the political instinct or desire is one of these things which they hold in common. Falling in love is more poetical than dropping into poetry. The democratic contention is that government (helping to rule the tribe) is a thing like falling in love, and not a thing like dropping into poetry. It is not something analogous to playing the church organ, painting on vellum, discovering the North Pole (that insidious habit), looping the loop, being Astronomer Royal, and so on. For these things we do not wish a man to do at all unless he does them well. It is, on the contrary, a thing analogous to writing one's own love-letters or blowing one's own nose. These things we want a man to do for himself, even if he does them badly. I am not here arguing the truth of any of these conceptions; I know that some moderns are asking to have their wives chosen by scientists, and they may soon be asking, for all I know, to have their noses blown by nurses. I merely say that mankind does recognize these universal human functions, and that democracy classes government among them. In short, the democratic faith is this: that the most terribly important things must be left to ordinary men themselves--the mating of the sexes, the rearing of the young, the laws of the state. This is democracy; and in this I have always believed.
[Crossposted at The Good, the True, the Just.]
3 comboxers:
This is a brilliant passage, and much can be learned by mining it.
Chesterton's "first principle of democracy" is actually the first principle of many (sadly, not all) political systems. And even more sadly, it is no longer taken as a principle by many modern governments, which are otherwise "democratic".
The second principle is more explicitly political, and I think that it would be beneficial to examine just how far it extends. Are there political decisions that are more like playing the church organ than they are like blowing one's own nose? For example, in California the voters now have the power to approve specific spending amounts and specific tax amounts -- is that something best left to elected and appointed professionals? In the 2004 and 2008 presidential elections, the voters had to decide whether to choose the Republican (who supported the war in Iraq) or the Democrat (who opposed the war in Iraq, and wanted to escalate the war in Afghanistan). Yet the average voter knew almost nothing about the details of either war. Should they really be deciding these things?
I don't have an answer to offer, but I'm just pointing out that Chesterton has really set out the correct criteria to use in making an answer.
This is clear?
Rob, you've been reading way too much philosophy. ;) I don't even come close to getting the whole falling in love/poetry analogy.
I do get Larry's (is that your Dad/uncle?) comment however about direct democracy being such a good idea. Asking people who routinely get confused about their bank statements to make important budget decisions maybe not such a hot idea. Of course, the same maybe said for the politicians themselves. :)
For the record, Larry is no blood relation either to me or to the television personality.
Though I'm pleased to number him among my brothers in Christ.
Post a Comment