Perspectives on Political Parties

Classic Readings
This page intentionally left blank
Perspectives on Political Parties
Classic Readings

Edited by
Susan E. Scarrow
PERSPECTIVES ON POLITICAL PARTIES
Copyright © Susan E. Scarrow, 2002.
Softcover reprint of the hardco ver 1st edition 2002 978-0-312-29485-4
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.

First published 2002 by

PALGRAVE MACMILLAN™
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 and
Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS.
Companies and representatives throughout the world.

PALGRAVE MACMILLAN IS THE GLOBAL ACADEMIC IMPRINT OF THE PALGRAVE

MACMILLAN
division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a
registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries.
Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries.

ISBN 978-0-312-29523-3 ISBN 978-0-230-10740-3 (eBook)

DOI 10.1057/9780230107403

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Perspectives on political parties : classic readings / editor, Susan E. Scarrow.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Political parties—History. 2. Comparative government. I. Scarrow, Susan E.

JF2011.P42 2002
324.2—dc21
2002024191

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Design by Letra Libre, Inc.

First edition: September 2002

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
 Contents

Preface ix

Introduction: Coming to Terms

with Parties in the Nineteenth Century 1

PART 1.
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY ANTECEDENTS
1. The Patriot King and Parties 29
Henry Saint-John, Viscount Bolingbroke. 1738.
2. Of Parties in General 33
David Hume. 1742.
3. Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents 37
Edmund Burke. 1770.
4. Farewell Address to Congress 45
George Washington. 1796.

PART 2.
THE PLACE OF PARTIES IN
HEALTHY POLITICAL SYSTEMS
5. Remarks on Party 51
Henry Peter, Lord Brougham. 1839.
6. Parties—the Office they Fulfill in a Republic 57
Frederick Grimke. 1848.
7. The Party Organism 67
Gustave Struve. 1848.
8. Elements of Society in France 71
François Guizot. 1849.
9. What Is a Political Party? 75
Johan Caspar Bluntschli. 1869.
10. Parties in the State 83
Robert von Mohl. 1872.
11. The Place of Party in the Political System 91
Anson D. Morse. 1891.
12. Party Government 99
Charles Richardson. 1892.
13. The Evils of Party 103
Nathan Cree. 1892.
14. What Is a Party? 107
Anson D. Morse. 1896.

PART 3.
PARTIES AND LEGISLATURES

15. On Opposition Parties in Germany and Elsewhere 121

Wilhelm Traugott Krug. 1836.
16. Evils and Dangers of Parliamentary Government 127
Henry George, Earl Grey. 1858.
17. A Plea for the Constitution 135
John Austin. 1859.
18. Parties and the House of Commons 141
Walter Bagehot. 1867.
19. The Parliamentary Regime and Parties in Italy 147
Émile de Laveleye. 1871.
20. Parties and Party Groups (I) 157
Heinrich von Treitschke. 1871.
21. Responsible Party Government 163
Woodrow Wilson. 1885.
22. The Price of Party Government 169
William S. Lilly. 1900.

PART 4.
PARTY TYPES AND PARTY SYSTEMS

23. Parties in the United States 177

Alexis de Tocqueville. 1839.
24. The Four Parties 183
Friedrich Rohmer. 1844.
25. Parties in the Life of the State 193
Gottlieb Christian Abt. 1848.
26. Parties and Party Groups (II) 199
Heinrich von Treitschke. 1871.
27. Parties and Party Government 205
Henry Sidgwick. 1891.
28. Governments and Parties in Continental Europe 213
Abbot Lawrence Lowell. 1896.

PART 5.
PARTY ORGANIZATION AND CANDIDATE SELECTION
29. Tendencies and Evils of Political Platforms 223
Ezra Seaman. 1863.
30. Party Organizations and Their Nominations
to Public Office in New York City 227
A. C. Bernheim. 1888.
31. Party Organizations 233
James Bryce. 1891.
32. Political Organizations in the United States and England 239
James Bryce. 1893.
33. Party Organization 245
Henry Jones Ford. 1898.
34. Democracy and the Organization of Political Parties 251
Mosei Ostrogorski. 1902.

Index 263
This page intentionally left blank
 Preface

P
olitical parties have become so central to the practice of modern pol-
itics that it is often hard to remember that partisan politics is a rela-
tively recent invention. And like many other successful inventions,
party-organized politics has so fundamentally reshaped some aspects of the
ways we organize society that it seems hard to imagine how some funda-
mental tasks could be conducted without their aid. Indeed, as early as 1921
the British diplomat and scholar James Bryce sweepingly declared that what-
ever the “mischiefs wrought by party spirit, . . . parties are inevitable. No free
large country has been without them. No one has shown how representative
government could work without them” (Bryce 1921: 119). Yet in much of the
century before Bryce offered this judgement, many political analysts gave
considerable thought to whether the newly emerging parties should or could
be confined to a minor role in politics. Competing parties often were viewed
with suspicion as destroyers of national political unity and as self-serving
threats to national welfare. Although such attitudes tended to be coupled
with a broader distrust of representative democracy in general, and of mass
suffrage in particular, in the nineteenth century even many avowed democ-
rats were not favorably disposed toward the evolving realities of organized
parties. Political parties took root despite all such reservations and flourished
to such an extent that the twentieth century has been dubbed the “century
of party democracy” (Mair 1995: 41; italics in original). But even as organized
partisan divisions seemed to become inextricably linked with electoral
democracy, questions about parties lingered. Toward the end of the twenti-
eth century concern about party-dominated politics once again crested in
many established democracies, generating new support for electoral and ad-
ministrative procedures that might allow citizens more opportunities to in-
fluence politics independently of parties.
It is this tension between the recurring suspicion of partisan divisions and
the seeming inevitability of partisan organization that initially drew me to
this project. While writing about late-twentieth-century antiparty reactions
I became increasingly intrigued by the way that political analysts had reacted
to the initial emergence of parties, long before their centrality came to be
x PREFACE

seen as unavoidable. I was particularly interested in the extent to which

today’s criticisms and defenses echo the earliest assessments of partisan pol-
itics, and in the way that early analysts sought to incorporate parties into the-
ories of governance that did not anticipate or welcome such organized
divisions.
Because partisan politics is a relatively recent phenomenon, we do not
need to go back very far to see how scholars and practitioners explained the
origins of these new mechanisms for practical politics, or to trace the evolu-
tion of the categories they developed to distinguish between various types of
parties. Many of these first analytic endeavors have indirectly shaped con-
temporary understandings of party politics. Some of them constitute the
basis for later writings on such now-familiar topics as the relationship be-
tween electoral systems and party systems, the conditions for party govern-
ment, and the benefits of responsible party government. Others document
how hard it was for the idea of party-based politics to win widespread accep-
tance. Because these texts reveal the slow and half-hearted development of
theoretical justifications for party politics, they help to show why political
theory has provided only a weak protection against subsequent criticism of
parties.
Important as they are, these and other nineteenth century writings tend
to get neglected in the discipline of political science, in which most of the
frequently-cited “classics” are no more than 50 years old. A principal aim of
this book is to rectify this undeserved neglect by making scholars and stu-
dents more aware of analysts’ long-standing fascination with political par-
ties. Another is to show the deep roots of party scholarship as an empirical
and cross-national endeavor, in which writers have long used observations
about political life in various countries to support generalizations about how
the political world does or should work.
Many colleagues have given me help and advice as I searched out relevant
texts from four countries and worked to put them in historical context.
Among those deserving special thanks are Sarah Fishman Boyd, Peter Carl
Caldwell, Susan Collins, Eduardo Garcia-Novelli, Donald Lutz, Helen
Mann, Timothy Nokken, Laura Scalia, John Scott, Miles Smith, Rebekah
Smith-Lueb, Jonathan Sperber, and Carolyn Warner. Michael Bruter pro-
vided research help and advice on the French translations, and Richard Arm-
strong provided the Latin translations. Of course, responsibility for any
mistakes or omissions remains solely my own. Thanks also to Hans-Dieter
Klingemann and the Wissenschaftszentrum Berlin, who generously pro-
vided me with a convenient and congenial place to work while I was locat-
ing many of the German texts. This research was supported in part by a grant
from the University of Houston.
 PREFACE xi

Perhaps the best way to end this preface is with advice from Anson Morse,
a late-nineteenth-century American political scientist who urged all who are
interested in politics and in good governance to pay more attention to polit-
ical parties:

But despite its conceded importance in practical politics, very few have as
yet turned their attention to the philosophy of party. As a rule even the best
of the formal treatises on political science give it little or no considera-
tion. . . . [W]hatever may be the excuse for past neglect, there can be no
good ground for its continuance. We live to-day under party government.
We want good government; and the first step towards securing this is to ac-
quaint ourselves with the nature, the capacity and the limitation of our new
ruler (Morse 1891: 301).

Sources

Bryce, James. 1921. Modern Democracies. New York: The Macmillan Company.
Mair, Peter. 1995. “Political Parties, Popular Legitimacy and Public Privilege.” West
European Politics 18:40–57.
Morse, Anson. 1891. “The Place of Party in the Political System.” Annals of the Ameri-
can Academy 2: 300–8.
This page intentionally left blank
 INTRODUCTION

Coming to Terms with Parties

in the Nineteenth Century

F
or the past two hundred years political parties have been objects of
extravagant praise and scathing denunciations. On the eve of the
nineteenth century the first American president famously warned his
compatriots about “the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of
party,” which “serves always to distract the public councils and enfeeble the
public administration” and “agitates the community with ill-founded jeal-
ousies and false alarms” (Washington 1896: 219). On the eve of the twenty-
first century German President Richard von Weizsäcker issued a warning
about parties in his country that was almost as sweeping, accusing them of
being “obsessed with gaining power by winning elections, but oblivious of
their power when it comes to providing political leadership” (1992: 4). Be-
tween these two presidential warnings lies an extensive literature on the
shortcomings of political parties. Although party-based political systems
certainly have not lacked for defenders—above all, within the ranks of the
parties themselves—unease with partisan politics seems to be a recurring
theme in modern political life. In recent years it once again has resurfaced in
many democracies, reviving old questions about how to make party compe-
tition compatible with the public welfare.
This book introduces these long-running debates, revealing the intellectual
roots of modern party politics and modern party scholarship. The documents
in this collection include some of the nineteenth century’s most influential re-
flections on party origins and party functions. The debates presented here in-
fluenced the shape of modern political institutions. They also left their mark
on the new discipline of political science that emerged at the end of the nine-
teenth century. Their concerns continue to resonate in contemporary debates
about parties and party governance. Indeed, what the political scientists
Austin Ranney and Wilmoore Kendall noted about late-nineteenth-century
American writings on parties remains more generally true of that century’s

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
2 SUSAN E. SCARROW

contributions in this field: “much of it sounds as if it had been written only yes-
terday. For the questions asked about parties were about the same at the be-
ginning of the recent period as those we are asking today” (1956: 147).
The present volume aims to make these important writings accessible to
modern students of representative government. Assembled here are debates
about the extent to which partisan politics is desirable, discussions of the
proper roles for parties in legislatures, and reflections on the relations be-
tween political parties and other political institutions. Although most of the
texts collected here were quite well known in their own day, many have been
neglected by more recent audiences. This neglect is not universal: authors
such as Alexis de Tocqueville and Walter Bagehot remain widely read. How-
ever, works of many other authors are out of print, readily available only in
the largest of libraries. Moreover, few of the French and German writings on
parties were ever translated into English. Such obstacles make it difficult for
all but the most persistent researchers to trace the development of these de-
bates about central political institutions, and they probably explain why con-
temporary party scholars show so little awareness of their
nineteenth-century predecessors. This inaccessibility is unfortunate, because
it makes politicians as well as scholars more vulnerable to the dual tempta-
tions of unknowingly rehashing old debates, or of mistakenly perceiving
parts of the nineteenth century as a golden age of party politics.
The texts in this collection come from Britain, France, Germany, and the
United States. The reason for including writings from a variety of countries is
that party-based politics came to each of these countries in quite different
ways. These differences influenced perceptions of parties in each country.
Moreover, the nineteenth century was a period when theorizing about politics
crossed linguistic as well as geographic borders. In that century of widespread
and rapid political change, analysts frequently looked to other countries to find
models to emulate or avoid. Above all, political analysts outside Britain were
quick to read, and often to respond to, the latest contributions to British de-
bates about parliamentary democracy. For instance, Woodrow Wilson’s initial
enthusiasm for responsible party government clearly reflected his reading of
Walter Bagehot’s description of the British political system. Similarly, German
commentators like Heinrich von Treitschke and Robert von Mohl cited ex-
amples of party behavior in England to bolster their arguments about the
drawbacks of English-style responsible party government. In other words, in
order to understand the evolution of arguments about political parties, we
need to see them as part of a consciously cross-national effort to define and
defend the contours of desirable political structures.
For contemporary readers, one of the advantages of a collection that
brings together views from several countries is that it offsets tendencies to
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 3

find something exceptional in each country’s antiparty heritage. Such a ten-

dency is exemplified in some of the work of Austin Ranney, a scholar who
contributed some of the most insightful analysis of English and American
debates about parties, but who nevertheless at times implied that there was
something peculiarly American about the “widespread belief that political
parties are, at best, unavoidable evils whose propensities for divisiveness, oli-
garchy, and corruption must be closely watched and sternly controlled”
(Ranney 1975: 22). Such a portrayal would surprise German analysts, who
often have viewed the rejection of political parties and the search for a gov-
ernment above parties as a peculiarly German malady, and as one that can
help explain Germany’s unhappy experiences with democracy in the first half
of the twentieth century. Similarly, explanations of the relative weakness of
French parties sometimes invoke the French Revolution and the exceptional
burden of antiparty sentiment that it is said to have created. In contrast, the
readings in this collection make clear that claims of antiparty exceptionalism
should not be overdrawn. While it is true that arguments against parties fo-
cused on different problems in different places, none of the countries was
immune from debates about the desirability of government with, and
through, political parties. Similar debates took place even in Britain, the
country in which party government was established with the least resistance.
Because this book unites analyses from different countries, it can help to
make clear what was exceptional, and what common, about perceptions of
parties and party government.
This volume focuses on the nineteenth century because this is a period
that critically shaped modern understandings of partisan politics, and be-
cause important writings from this period are too often neglected by con-
temporary students of party politics. Of course, it is difficult to confine the
collection within the boundaries of the century. In this area, as in most in-
tellectual debates, the development of ideas spilled over from one century to
the next. The compromise made here is to provide a short selection of pre-
nineteenth-century contributions to party theory, but to stick more strictly
with the twentieth-century terminus. The latest excerpt included here, from
Mosei Ostrogorski, was published in 1902. Even this is, in one sense, a
slightly earlier work because the first volume of Ostrogorski’s two-volume
work was completed and translated by 1896.
In a collection of this sort any terminal date except the present can seem
very arbitrary. In this case, one of the compelling reasons for keeping the
focus primarily on the nineteenth century is a very practical one: because
there was an explosion of theorizing about parties at the beginning of the
twentieth century. Thus, the American political scientist Anson Morse was
largely correct when he asserted in 1891 that, “very few have as yet turned
4 SUSAN E. SCARROW

their attention to the philosophy of party” (1891: 300). But two decades
later, a German political science journal announced with equal correctness
that, “In recent years a new science has successfully battled to establish its
right to exist—the study of parties” (Schmidt and Gabowsky 1912: I). In all
four countries, party studies proliferated in the years between these two as-
sessments. As a result, any further extension of the chronological scope
would have required not only an expansion of the book, but also the exclu-
sion of some of the earlier, more tentative, attempts to take the measure of
the emerging partisan order. Such a tradeoff seemed particularly undesirable
given that some—though by known means all!—of the most interesting
early-twentieth-century writings on parties already are available in transla-
tions and reprints, and are quite well known by contemporary scholars (in-
cluding those by authors such as Robert Michels and Max Weber).
Even given these chronological constraints, a collection of this size cannot
include excerpts from all of the relevant contributions to nineteenth-cen-
tury debates about partisan politics. As a result, one big group of writings has
been excluded from this collection: texts describing individual parties and
particular partisan battles. Accounts of this sort multiplied in the nineteenth
century, and they are important because the growth of this genre documents
how and when historians and political commentators began to perceive pol-
itics in increasingly partisan terms. However, such contributions provide less
help in tracing the intellectual history of party studies, because most of them
lack theoretical or systematizing ambitions.
Indeed, the long tradition of atheoretical accounts of party politics may be
related to the recurrence of party criticism, because party-based politics usu-
ally is justified more on practical than on theoretical grounds. Unlike many
other great political changes of the nineteenth century, the rise of party-orga-
nized politics occurred without the benefit of a justifying theoretical founda-
tion. Whereas extensive philosophical debates helped prepare the way for such
developments as the abolition of slavery, the broadening of the franchise, the
weakening of monarchical government, and the growing political aspirations
of culturally-defined nations, almost no one argued ahead of the fact that
party-based governance was to be desired. Even after parties began to establish
themselves as normal features of modern political systems, their defenders
tended to offer pragmatic rather than normative arguments on their behalf.
And while political experience may have convinced many people of parties’ in-
evitability and expediency, it was and is less effective in persuading everyone of
their desirability. In focusing on the more theoretical contributions to party
scholarship, this book documents the initial efforts of political practitioners
and observers in four countries to come to terms with parties, to create theo-
ries of government that incorporate political parties.
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 5

Tension between political theory and the practice of partisan politics ex-
tends back to the emergence of political parties as organized forces. Indeed,
criticism of parties is in some senses older than parties themselves, for some
of the classic and long-cited arguments against parties were first made in the
eighteenth century, long before parties assumed recognizably modern polit-
ical guises. Such criticism was far from universal. Thus, in the eighteenth
century authors such as David Hume and Edmund Burke recognized that
parties might make desirable as well as undesirable contributions to public
welfare. Nevertheless, it was only as experience with partisan politics accu-
mulated in the nineteenth century that many observers were prepared to re-
ject received antiparty prejudices and to start systematically analyzing the
realm of party politics.
Because specific political experiences crucially shaped national debates
about parties, the remainder of the present chapter provides a short intro-
duction to the historical circumstances and intellectual currents that shaped
political interpretations in each of the four countries represented in this col-
lection. In all these countries political analysts were exposed to at least some
inherited traditions that might have predisposed them to be suspicious of
parties, and to view party conflicts as potentially harmful to the public good.
However, during the nineteenth century these traditional views of parties
and party politics were altered by new constitutional understandings, and,
above all, by the accumulating experiences with political parties themselves.
In turn, traditional biases against parties helped to shape or retard the de-
velopment of parties and party systems, sometimes leading to legal restric-
tions on party activities, and often encouraging political actors to abjure the
party label. The following histories briefly introduce these interactions,
showing how national debates about the utility and form of political parties
were shaped by each country’s experiences with the rise of constitutional
government and the advent of mass electorates.

The Historical Contexts: Legislatures, Elections, and Parties

Party-organized politics was one of the transforming inventions of the

nineteenth century. Of course, parties were not unknown before this time,
but it was not until the nineteenth century that they emerged as one of the
central organizing features in many countries’ politics. Before this the en-
tities designated as parties tended to be loose and fluctuating groupings of
individuals who joined together to support a particular leader or policy.
What happened in the nineteenth century was that these loose groups
gained a much more permanent and organized character, often taking on a
6 SUSAN E. SCARROW

well-defined shape both inside and outside of the legislatures. When read-
ing the developing literature on political parties it is important to keep
these differences in mind, because the political parties that eighteenth-
century writers refer to are much less formal groupings than those de-
scribed by their counterparts at the end of the nineteenth century.
In most places the newfound prominence of political parties was fos-
tered by two distinct but interrelated developments: the transfer of politi-
cal power to legislatures, and the expansion of the electorate. The more
that legislatures were involved in political decision making, the greater
were the incentives for groups to form permanent alliances within these
assemblies. As a result, parties tended to become more important as legis-
latures assumed more central roles in governance. The increased promi-
nence of legislatures and legislative parties often was interlinked with the
growing importance of elections to these assemblies. Moreover, as electoral
mandates became an increasingly important basis for claiming the right to
govern, parties had greater incentives to foster extralegislative organiza-
tions in hopes of influencing election outcomes. Another nineteenth-
century phenomenon, the expansion of the electorate, further promoted
the growth of party organizations outside the legislatures, because it in-
creased the incentives for politicians to sustain associations that could mo-
bilize political support. Together, these changes shifted parties into the
center of political life, giving them new and more pivotal roles.
Such changes in the legislative and electoral realms occurred during the
nineteenth century in each of the countries represented in this collection,
but the timing of specific developments varied. In both Britain and the
United States, the shift to constitutional governance was an accomplished
fact by the start of the nineteenth century, though particular arrangements
for implementing popular sovereignty were objects of recurring disputes
throughout the century. In these countries, the outcome of elections was a
main determinant of government policy long before full manhood suffrage
was enacted. In contrast, in both France and Germany manhood suffrage
and mass politics were introduced long before public policies became fully
subject to electoral verdicts. In the latter two countries, unelected rulers
retained governing authority well past the middle of the nineteenth cen-
tury, and organized parties were largely suppressed until the last third of
the century.
These historical variations in the development of partisan politics af-
fected analysts’ concerns. As will be explained below, in Britain and the
United States the main debates about parties focused on the extent to which
they should mediate between voters and political decisions. In France and
Germany debates about parties were long entwined with more fundamental
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 7

questions about the proper limits of popular sovereignty and of constitu-

tional government. In other words, in all four countries the emergence of
party-based governance presented problems for constitutional and political
theorists, but these problems were not identical.

Britain

Political parties were a well-established feature of British politics by the start

of the nineteenth century. The British parties became more prominent, and
more defined, as the century progressed, developments that were inextrica-
bly linked with the rise of the elected House of Commons and the expansion
of the suffrage. In keeping with this pattern, two main concerns predomi-
nated in British reflections on parties in this era: questions about the role
parties should play in organizing Parliament, and questions about how par-
ties should relate to their potential voters.
Rivalries between the court party (the Conservatives, or “Tories”) and the
country party (the “Whigs”) had become a recognized, if not always wel-
come, feature of British politics by the eighteenth century (Gunn 1972; Hill
1976). These two groupings remained dominant throughout that century
and the next, though at some points divisions within the groups were at least
as important as rivalry between them. Partisan blocks became more sharply
defined in both chambers of Parliament during the middle third of the nine-
teenth century, after passage of the 1832 Reform Bill strengthened the
elected House of Commons. This First Reform Bill increased the impor-
tance of parliamentary elections in several ways. It slightly broadened the
electorate, and it also expanded the number of contested seats by abolishing
most of the so-called “pocket boroughs” (districts with such tiny electorates
that they were effectively controlled by a single, usually aristocratic, patron).
Even more fundamentally, the controversy over this legislation established
the precedent that the monarch would intervene on the side of the elected
chamber whenever disputes arose between the House of Commons and the
House of Lords (Brock 1972).
Parties assumed an increasing role in British political life as parliamentary
power shifted to the elected chamber. One manifestation of this was the ad-
vent of collective cabinet responsibility, an idea that emerged in the 1830s.
Adherence to this new principle heightened the need for leading politicians
to establish and maintain clear political allegiances, because cabinet minis-
ters were increasingly expected to support a common set of policies. By the
1840s, expectations about party loyalty had expanded to include all members
of Parliament. In the 1850s and 1860s changes in parliamentary procedure
reinforced these shifts toward organizing politics along stricter partisan
8 SUSAN E. SCARROW

lines. Such developments weakened the influence of individual members of

Parliament and strengthened party leaders, particularly those who sat in the
cabinet (Cox 1987; Jenkins 1996).
Not all political observers welcomed this increasing sway of party. Many
viewed the move toward disciplined parties as an unwise retreat from the
Burkean ideal of parties as uncoerced coalitions of independent thinkers
who were united by shared principles. One such critic was Henry Peter, Lord
Brougham, a politician who served as a Whig minister during the 1830s, but
who split with his colleagues because he prized his political independence.
Brougham denounced the increasingly partisan politics of the 1830s as, “this
most anomalous state of things,—this arrangement of political affairs which
systematically excludes at least one-half of the great men of each age from
their country’s service, and devotes both classes infinitely more to maintain-
ing a conflict with one another than to furthering the general good” (1839:
300; see chapter 5). Although many British analysts shared Brougham’s re-
gret over the disappearing role for the independent legislator, by mid-
century most commentators accepted party discipline as one of the necessary
costs of parliamentary government.
Conditioned by more than a century of rivalry between Whigs and Tories,
nineteenth-century accounts of parliamentary government tended to as-
sume that there would be a twofold division of political forces, with the ma-
jority party forming the government, and the opposition party acting as the
government-in-waiting. Two party politics was deeply ingrained in British
understandings of the political order, even though actual party lines re-
mained imprecise and rather fluid until at least the 1830s (Gash 1977; New-
bould 1990). Twice in the nineteenth century these bipolar assumptions
were called into question when the British party system was disrupted by is-
sues that cut across existing party lines. In the middle of the century the
Conservative Party was split by disagreements over tariff policy (the contro-
versy over the Corn Laws). As a result of this issue, defecting Tories began
cooperating with the Whigs, a collaboration that eventually saw the Whigs
reborn as the Liberal Party (Hawkins 1987). Clear two-party divisions and
vigorous competition only resurfaced in the 1860s, alongside the emergence
of strong party leaders (Palmerstone and Gladstone for the Liberals, Disraeli
for the Conservatives). In the century’s final decade and a half it was the Lib-
erals who split, this time over the question of Home Rule for Ireland. Once
again, party lines blurred as many Liberal Unionists shifted their support to
the Conservatives.
These periods of political fragmentation did not ultimately displace com-
petition between Whigs/Liberals and Conservatives, which remained the
dominant forces in nineteenth-century British politics. The party that finally
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 9

disrupted this pattern, the Labour Party, was not even formally founded until
the beginning of the twentieth century. Yet even if the pattern of political du-
alism survived several disruptions in the nineteenth century, these episodes of
blurred party landscapes occasioned important reflections on the extent to
which parties—whether two, or many—were necessary or desirable for the
functioning of British parliamentary democracy. Characteristic of these de-
bates was a mid-century exchange between the Whig leader in the House of
Lords, Earl Grey, and John Austin, a scholar of constitutional law. Grey of-
fered a defense of party-based parliamentary government, admitting its
faults, but arguing for its desirability on the grounds that, “a long experience
has proved, that the abuses prevailing in despotic Governments have been far
greater, and far more injurious to the welfare of the People, than those to
which political liberty gives rise under a well-regulated Constitution” (1858:
57; chapter 16). In his response, Austin criticized the party patronage that
Grey portrayed as inevitable. Austin lamented the disappearance of the prin-
cipled issues that formerly had divided the parties, arguing that the parlia-
mentary parties of his day, “being less divided by distinct differences of
opinion on public interests, are more divided by selfish objects or by personal
attachments and enmities. In consequence of this, the warfare of parliamen-
tary parties has been lowered in spirit and tone” (1859: 36; chapter 17).
In Britain, party-based governance preceded mass politics, and parties
correspondingly developed first in the legislature and only later as extra-
parliamentary organizations. Though the outcome of the 1832 Reform Bill
dispute clearly strengthened the role of the elected legislative chamber, the
electorate itself remained quite small even after this important reform.
Thus, only 650,000 voters registered for the 1833 election, at a time when
the population of England, Scotland, and Wales exceeded 16 million (Bent-
ley 1984: 88). The masses did not become a factor in national elections until
the last third of the century, when further Reform Bills (in 1867 and 1884)
reduced income-based restrictions on the franchise. It was not until the elec-
tion of 1885 that more than half of the adult male population became eligi-
ble to vote in parliamentary elections (Williams and Ramsden 1990: 285).
Full manhood suffrage was not introduced in Britain until 1918.
These progressive extensions of the franchise spurred the expansion of par-
ties’ political organization outside of Parliament, above all because parties
needed to ensure that their supporters were included on the annual electoral
register. Until 1918, when electoral registration procedures were simplified,
preparing the electoral rolls was a time-consuming task plagued by errors, both
politically-inspired and otherwise. As a result, parties could gain a significant
electoral advantage in localities where they had the money and organizational
resources to locate their supporters and make sure they were on the registers.
10 SUSAN E. SCARROW

This incentive for good organization increased as the Second and Third Re-
form Bills expanded the pool of eligible voters (Hanham 1959: ch. 11).
The expansion of the franchise made organization important in other
ways as well. In the 1880s the Birmingham Liberals latched on to the idea of
organizing supporters in order to coordinate their use of preference votes in
multi-member districts, a practice that maximized the chances of electing
two Liberal candidates. The so-called Birmingham Caucus is known to many
readers today because of Mosei Ostrogorski’s outraged account of its strate-
gies and successes (1902; chapter 34). Yet at the time when the caucuses
flourished few British observers shared Ostrogorski’s horror of such organi-
zational techniques. They were much more concerned by the bribery and
particularly the alcoholic hospitality (“treating”) that were common, though
by no means universal, elements of British campaigns throughout most of
the nineteenth century. As the electorate expanded, this system became
much more expensive (and less reliable), and commentators grew increas-
ingly distressed by such disreputable modes of electioneering. Incentives for
treating were reduced by the 1872 introduction of the secret ballot, and the
practice was mostly eliminated by the 1883 Corrupt Practices Act. This leg-
islation set very strict, and relatively low, limits on campaign expenditure in
each constituency; penalties for violating these limits included exclusion
from parliament. These regulations not only reduced the costs of campaign-
ing; they also boosted parties’ local organizing efforts as campaigners needed
to find new ways to mobilize supporters (Hanham 1959).
Thus, in Britain parties emerged gradually from the eighteenth century
onwards, with their importance increasing sharply in the 1830s alongside the
increasing importance of the House of Commons. Initially these parties were
loose groupings in the House of Lords and House of Commons. As the cen-
tury progressed, first the Liberals, then the Conservatives, backed extensions
of the franchise with the aim of winning party supporters among new voters.
After these reforms, both Liberals and Conservatives became increasingly in-
terested in creating strong constituency organizations to mobilize support
from the expanded electorate. In the context of this gradual extension of
party-based politics only a few voices were raised against parties as such. In-
stead, British debates about parties focused more on the proper limits of par-
tisanship inside and outside the legislature, and on the extent to which it was
right to reduce political struggles over principles to mere partisan wrangling.

The United States

Although parties assumed an important place in American politics rela-

tively early in the life of the new republic, American reflections on party-
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 11

organized politics were relatively scarce until the last quarter of the nine-
teenth century. At this point American interest in parties was stoked in
part by the evolving British interpretations of parties’ roles in parliamen-
tary governance. It was also spurred by the increasing prominence of
strong and obviously corrupt state and municipal party machines. Many of
those who turned their attention to parties portrayed themselves as citi-
zens who were concerned by parties’ ignominious behavior. These twin
themes of party utility and party corruption dominated nineteenth-
century American reflections on parties.
In the United States power shifted to elected institutions even earlier than
in Britain. The new country’s 1789 constitution placed legislative authority in
the hands of directly and indirectly elected organs: the president, selected by
an assembly of delegates (the electoral college); the Senate, appointed by
elected state legislatures; and the House of Representatives, directly elected
in procedures determined by the states (mostly in simple majority elections
from single member districts). The original Constitution also left the defini-
tion of suffrage rights to the individual states. In practice, the states imple-
mented franchises that were quite broad in late-eighteenth-century terms,
though individual states imposed a variety of restrictions, many of them based
on property holding. Even these restrictions began to loosen during the first
decades of the nineteenth century, so that by 1826 all but three of the U.S.
states enfranchised all, or very nearly all, adult white males (Chambers and
Davis 1978: 175). Thus, the United States was the first of the countries in this
study to sustain mass suffrage (though it did not effectively achieve full man-
hood suffrage until the 1960s, when federal intervention forced some states
to abolish the literacy tests and poll taxes that they had long used to disen-
franchise African American voters).
This combination of the early advent of mass politics and of electoral gov-
ernance fostered the comparatively early prominence of political parties in
the American system. The new republic’s first national-level partisan dis-
putes emerged quickly, as Federalists and Anti-Federalists split over how to
divide governmental powers between the state and federal levels (Hoadley
1986). These differences culminated in the bitterly contested presidential
election of 1800, which pitted Thomas Jefferson against John Adams. Soon
after this election divisions over federalism began to recede, and for the next
decade and a half, parties played a much less visible role in federal politics.
The 1820s saw the birth of more partisan and more populist politics at
both the state and federal levels. Party divisions once again sharpened over
the next two decades as Jacksonian Democrats and National Republicans,
then Whigs, battled over issues such as tariff policies and the need for a na-
tional bank. In many states the populism associated with these struggles both
12 SUSAN E. SCARROW

contributed to, and was fostered by, the extension of the franchise. The pe-
riod’s increased party competition and improved state party organizations
coincided with sharp increases in electoral participation, which rose from
about 9 percent of adult white males in the (uncontested) 1820 presidential
election to over 50 percent in 1828, and to over 80 percent in the election of
1840 (Chambers and Davis 1978: 175–88).
The lines of the party system blurred again by the end of the 1840s as
conflicts over slavery came to the fore. The slavery issue divided Northern
from Southern Whigs, and the new Republican Party moved into the space
created by this split. The Republican Party began contesting elections in
1854 as an abolitionist, free-soil party, and within a decade it had displaced
the Whigs in the North. By the 1860s the Republican Party was established
as one of the country’s two viable parties, alongside the Democrats, and this
particular two-party political configuration was to prevail during most of
the rest of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The ensuing decades
brought some radical changes in the content designated by the Democratic
and Republican Party labels, and in the composition of the parties’ sup-
porting coalitions. Nevertheless, this stability of the nominal alternatives
strengthened the tendency of American observers to view two-party sys-
tems as the norm for successful democracies.
Such views were evident in the writings of A. Lawrence Lowell, one of the
distinguished founders of comparative political studies in the United States
(see chapter 28). Lowell was much more systematic and far-reaching in his
study of various systems of governments than were most of his contempo-
raries, although comparisons of U.S. and British politics were by no means
uncommon at that time. By the last third of the nineteenth century, British
accounts of parliamentarism had begun to stress the necessity and utility of
party-based governance. Many American observers responded to these ac-
counts with their own reflections on the roles that parties did or should play
in the United States, where policymaking was divided between Congress and
the president, and between the state and federal governments. For instance,
the young Woodrow Wilson was inspired by his studies of British politics to
argue that American government could be improved by the advent of “real
party government,” under which party would more securely link Congress
and the executive (1885; chapter 21). Other writers emphasized the special
role of parties in the ethnically diverse and politically divided American fed-
eration, stressing for instance parties’ beneficial role as a “nationalizing in-
fluence” (Ford 1898: 306; chapter 33).
While some observers regretted that U.S. legislative parties were weak and
disorganized in comparison with their British counterparts, by the end of the
nineteenth century few regarded the American parties’ extralegislative orga-
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 13

nizations in this light. Given that today’s American political parties are gen-
erally regarded as organizationally weak and candidate-driven in comparison
with many of their European counterparts, it is worth remembering that a
century ago the United States was seen as the home of the best organized po-
litical parties. In this era, Europeans looked to the United States to derive in-
sights about the origins and consequences of strong party organizations.
The roots of these organizations extended back to the Jacksonian era,
when the Democratic Party dominated national politics for much of the
1830s. This party shocked many contemporary observers by its unabashed use
of public resources for party ends. Patronage politics quickly emerged as the
new norm, and from the Jacksonian era through at least the end of the nine-
teenth century American parties routinely regarded electoral victory as a li-
cense to distribute government jobs and other public assets to party
supporters. At the state and municipal level, party organizations became in-
creasingly blatant in their use of public power for private purposes. By the
1880s urban parties throughout the country tended to be run as “machines,”
organizations that leaders used to bolster their political support by selectively
distributing government largesse. Reactions against such intermingling of
public and private interest became an increasingly prominent strain in Amer-
ican political debates.
These attacks came to the fore in the final decade of the century, when
“good government” reformers and Populists became increasingly strident in
denouncing the evils of existing political parties. Such criticism is repre-
sented in this collection by Nathan Cree’s condemnation of “the evils of
party” (1892; chapter 13). Cree’s solution was to introduce institutional re-
forms such as direct democracy, reforms intended to make it easier for “the
people” to circumvent the party “wirepullers.” Other observers, particularly
those from the emerging academic discipline of political science, were also
troubled by party corruption, but were less willing to attack parties as such.
Writers like Frank Goodnow went even further, arguing that the spoils of of-
fice might be a necessary price to pay for having parties that were strong
enough to coordinate politics within the institutionally and geographically
fragmented United States (1900).
As this account shows, political analysts in the United States were slow to
incorporate parties into their theories of government, but once they did rec-
ognize them many were willing to view even flawed parties as essential for
the operation of the country’s political system. In many cases this toleration
of imperfect parties was based on arguments that were quite specific to the
United States, with parties and party leaders depicted as crucial agents for
bridging the gaps created by the country’s unique cultural, geographic, and
constitutional structures.
14 SUSAN E. SCARROW

France

Party-based politics developed relatively late in France. This delay was a

legacy of the country’s long and turbulent path between absolutist monarchy
and established republic, a path that extended for more than a century after
the initial revolutionary events of 1789. During this time of frequent politi-
cal upheavals, French debates about political parties were deeply marked by
ongoing conflicts regarding the fundamental organization of the state.
Throughout the nineteenth century one of the most basic issues for French
analysts was whether parties as such threatened public welfare by undermin-
ing national unity. Parties remained suspect even after constitutional gov-
ernment gained a firmer foothold. Although French political life was deeply
partisan in the sense that it was marked by deep divisions in beliefs about the
proper form of government, well into the twentieth century French com-
mentators continued to debate the desirability of having political parties that
were formally organized either inside or outside the National Assembly.
French debates about parties took place within the context of ongoing
struggles over the extent of popular sovereignty. At the end of the eighteenth
century, revolutionary France took radical steps toward popular governance
when the country’s new assembly introduced universal manhood suffrage
and government by elected legislatures. Both innovations proved to be
short-lived. Within five years of the initial decrees the franchise was re-
stricted by renewed property qualifications, and by 1799 Napoleon’s rise to
power had halted French experiments with popular self-government
(Campbell 1958). Elections continued to be held in Napoleonic France, but
the legislatures that were elected did not govern. By 1815 Napoleon’s regime
was decisively defeated, but the constitutional monarchy that replaced it was
barely more democratic. This regime, headed by the Bourbon branch of the
French royal family, lasted only until July 1830. At this point a brief revolu-
tion forced King Charles X to abdicate in favor of a more liberal constitu-
tional monarchy led by Louis Philippe of the Orleanist branch of the royal
family. Legislatures played only a limited role in national political life under
both these monarchies. The franchise was slightly expanded under the July
Monarchy, but under both regimes voting was reserved for those who paid
high taxes, and the right to hold elected office was further restricted to the
very richest members among this already small group.
Whatever the regime, French political life in the first half of the nine-
teenth century was characterized by a continuing distrust of both popular
governance and partisan strife. Indeed, for many years the two were often
viewed as synonymous. Eighteenth-century revolutionaries had been in-
spired by Rousseau’s vision of popular rule without parties or other “partial
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 15

associations,” associations that he accused of distorting the general will. The

counter-revolutionaries were no more enamored of parties. For decades
after the Revolution, opponents of popular sovereignty equated political
parties with the political disorder of the Terror, and with the political frag-
mentation of the revolutionary period. Critics argued that parties were an
unnecessary threat to national unity.
The post-revolutionary reaction against political parties left a more con-
crete legacy of legal restrictions that affected associations of all sorts. These
injunctions, which became enshrined in the Napoleonic Code, were main-
tained in some form by succeeding regimes throughout the nineteenth cen-
tury. Though the primary targets of much of this legislation were
working-class economic associations, it was not coincidental that these re-
strictions also hampered other forms of political organizing. Thus, in legal as
well as intellectual and political terms, the French Revolution cast a long
shadow over the development of French political parties (Huard 1996: ch. 1).
French demands for popular sovereignty erupted again in 1848, when a
third revolution toppled the Orleanist monarchy and installed a Second Re-
public. Though this regime proved to be even more short-lived than the First
Republic, some of the institutional experiments of this period had lasting ef-
fects. One of the new regime’s first acts was to restore full manhood suffrage
and to hold elections to a constituent assembly. This body drafted a new con-
stitution, but was perceived by many to be bogged down in prolonged wran-
gling over constitutional questions. In reaction to this apparent lack of clear
leadership, the newly enfranchised voters elected the populist Louis
Napoleon to the new presidential post. Louis Napoleon, nephew to
Napoleon I, took office promising loyalty to the new Republic. However, he
soon emulated his uncle’s example, removing power from the legislature and
proclaiming himself emperor. Ironically, it was a controversy about the
breadth of the suffrage that was one pretext for Louis Napoleon’s move
against the elected legislature. In 1850 the National Assembly had imposed
new suffrage restrictions, rules that effectively excluded urban workers, or
about one-third of France’s adult male population. One of Louis Napoleon’s
first pledges was to restore full manhood suffrage, a promise he kept even as
he undermined the importance of elections by weakening the legislature
(Campbell 1958: 67; Huard 1991).
Although the Second Empire was in no sense a representative democracy,
the regime paid homage to the idea that government should rest on mass po-
litical support. It based its claim to legitimacy on mass electoral participa-
tion, albeit in elections in which government resources and legal restrictions
played an important role in determining the outcomes. In addition, Louis
Napoleon inaugurated the use of plebiscites to demonstrate popular support
16 SUSAN E. SCARROW

for particular decisions; indeed, it was these ballots that gave plebiscites a
bad name, because they aped the appearance of free elections without offer-
ing citizens a choice of how to vote. These traditions of courting a popular
mandate proved to be important for party development in the 1860s, when
some of the restrictions on pre-election organizing were relaxed. The new
freedom encouraged crypto-parties to experimentally establish electoral
committees—loose, independent groupings that were small enough to cir-
cumvent some of the legal restrictions on organized political activity (Huard
1996: 154–55).
As the above suggests, French political parties had little chance to develop
any kind of organizational presence during the first two-thirds of the nine-
teenth century. Though there were real political divisions—the most endur-
ing of which were caused by fundamental questions about how France should
be governed—political tendencies had few incentives to develop strong struc-
tures within legislatures, because these were seldom allowed to make deci-
sions about important issues. In addition, except for brief periods at the
beginning of the 1830s, and after the 1848 revolution, open partisan debates
were hampered by press censorship and by prohibitions against public meet-
ings and even against private societies. Such restrictions, and the small size of
the electorate for most of the first half of the century, made it both difficult
and unrewarding for political groups to organize outside the legislatures.
Louis Napoleon’s Second Empire finally collapsed in 1870, when it proved
incapable of defending the country from a Prussian-led invasion. A new and
very provisional republic emerged in its wake after months of violence and
political uncertainty. This default regime was born in very unpromising cir-
cumstances, and few expected it to be more durable than its republican pre-
decessors. However, with empires discredited by military defeats, and
monarchists divided between Bourbon and Orleanist claimants to the
throne, the republic took root. In the course of the 1870s, France’s Third Re-
public established itself as a parliamentary democracy with a strong legisla-
tive assembly and a weak president.
Elections became an important focus of political competition under the
new regime. The Third Republic retained the manhood suffrage of the Sec-
ond Empire, although successive legislatures revised the electoral law several
times within the regime’s first two decades as factions struggled (with mixed
results) to devise systems that would work in their favor. Under the system
that was eventually adopted, deputies were elected with an absolute major-
ity from single member districts, with relative majority runoff elections held
wherever no candidate won an absolute majority in the first round (Camp-
bell 1958: ch. 4). The new importance and uncertainty of legislative elections
fostered the emergence of more well-defined political divisions and made
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 17

French politics a clearly partisan affair, even though the parties themselves
remained weakly organized through the end of the nineteenth century.
Some of this organizational weakness was deliberately imposed. Because
Republicans initially feared that the monarchists would try to topple the
new regime, they were in no haste to abolish the Second Empire’s restric-
tions on public political meetings. These restrictions were gradually relaxed
in the 1880s, but they were not entirely abolished until 1901, when a new law
of association gave parties the same standing as other organizations. Until
then, parties were only able to convene as formal committees and to hold
public political meetings during official election periods. Such prohibitions
did not entirely stifle partisan organization, but they did discourage most ef-
forts to build permanent structures for mobilizing political support (Huard
1996: ch. 11).
Though party development was suppressed both before and during the
Third Republic, it was always clear that attitudes toward republicanism
formed the main dividing line in nineteenth-century French politics. Differ-
ences over the appropriate regime type remained important in the Repub-
lic’s new National Assembly, where there were deep splits between
monarchists and republicans. Each of these camps was further divided by in-
ternal feuds, rifts that were deep enough to hamper the formation of per-
manent governing majorities. As contemporary observers were aware, these
multiple divisions were encouraged by the French two-ballot electoral sys-
tem that enabled party rivals to work together on the second ballot to defeat
a common foe. By the end of the nineteenth century reflections on the
causes and implications of the France’s multiparty system—so different from
the English model—had become a central strand of French debates about
parties. They also caught the eye of foreign observers (for instance, A.
Lawrence Lowell: chapter 28).
Because France had little experience with parliamentary government
before the 1870s, some analysts of French politics looked to other coun-
tries to figure out what roles parties could and should play within stable
political systems. Several years after the July Revolution re-established a
strong monarchy in France, Alexis de Tocqueville recorded his generally fa-
vorable observations on parties’ contributions to political life in the
United States. He argued that the pragmatic (“minor”) American parties
helped stabilize that republic in a way that more ideological (“great”) par-
ties would be unable to do (1839: 171; chapter 23). Only months after the
Third Republic’s first elected legislature convened, one article in a promi-
nent French journal looked to the new state in Italy for lessons about how
parties might help to stabilize a parliamentary system (de Laveleye 1871;
chapter 19).
18 SUSAN E. SCARROW

Yet though a few French-language analysts highlighted the ways that po-
litical parties could strengthen democratic political systems, most commen-
tators were slow to counter the arguments of those who linked partisan strife
with revolutionary excesses. Like their more autocratic counterparts, many
conservative republicans believed in a national welfare that lay above the
parties. However, such republicans viewed meritocracy, not aristocracy or
plutocracy, as the right safeguard for public welfare. This meritocratic bias
and suspicion of popular politics was evident at the newly-founded Ecole Libre
des Sciences Politiques, the academy that was to become the training ground of
top politicians and civil servants. Such republican doubt about organized
parties was exemplified by Emile Boutmy, one of the school’s founders, as
well as in the works of Mosei Ostrogorski, one of the school’s still famous
pupils (Quaglieriello 1996; Boutmy 1896; chapter 34).
Thus, French reflections on party-based government were retarded by the
country’s strong antiparty legacy, and by its lateness in developing national
party institutions. Given the contested position of parties, analysts who did
turn their attention to parties were much more likely to explore fundamen-
tal questions of constitutional design than issues relating to extralegislative
party organization.

Germany

Germany did not exist as a single political entity until 1871. Before then, Ger-
mans were united by cultural symbols and a shared language, but were territo-
rially divided among many kingdoms and principalities, each with its own
political institutions and traditions. The drive toward political unification was
given its initial impetus at the beginning of the century by the Napoleonic oc-
cupation, a period that cast a long shadow over German political life. The oc-
cupying French consolidated German territories, and, equally important,
stimulated Germans’ perception that they shared a common cultural and polit-
ical identity. After the French defeat many Germans continued to promote po-
litical unity, viewing it in part as a means of protection against aggressive
neighbors. Some nationalists also hoped that a pan-German state would safe-
guard individual rights and middle-class interests better than did most of the
existing German states.
Although liberal nationalism was stoked by the French occupation at the
beginning of the century, it was nevertheless slow to emerge as a well-defined
political stance. A chief reason for this retarded development was the repres-
sive political climate that prevailed in the German lands in the 1820s and
1830s. In these decades official policies suppressed all groupings that might
question existing political arrangements. The brief period of relative freedom
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 19

after Napoleon’s defeat was ended by the 1819 promulgation of the Carlsbad
Decrees, which committed all German rulers to censorship and to other re-
strictions on political activities. In 1831 these measures were extended to for-
bid all forms of political assembly, and in 1832 it became illegal to form a
political party (von Beyme 1978: 707). These laws certainly limited political
opposition, but they did not entirely prevent the articulation of liberal posi-
tions, which found their place in books (documents of more than 320 pages
were exempt from censorship), in private associations, and, to a lesser extent,
in the legislatures of some of the German states (Blackbourn 1997: 125). It is
no accident that several of the German authors represented in this collection
taught at Heidelberg University and were able to gain first-hand knowledge
of parties and politics in the legislative chambers in Baden, a kingdom known
for its liberal politics.
While liberal tendencies were not completely absent in German lands in
the 1830s, it was only in the 1840s, when press censorship was relaxed, that
liberalism emerged as a defining pole of German politics. It was this period,
too, that saw the first upsurge of German reflections on parties, with one
particular concern being how to classify existing partisan tendencies
(Schieder 1969). Friedrich Rohmer’s early contribution to this genre formed
the starting point for many other German efforts to derive a taxonomy of
party. Few accepted Rohmer’s argument that party types corresponded to
the four ages of man (1844; chapter 24). But like Rohmer, most taxonomists
agreed on the need to distinguish between promoters of moderate constitu-
tional reform (the liberals), defenders of the old order (usually designated
conservatives or reactionaries), and those who wanted a complete change of
regime (labeled democrats or radicals).
Liberal aspirations asserted themselves in 1848, when they helped to stoke
the popular uprisings that led to the temporary retreat of monarchical
power, and to the temporary establishment of a unified, constitutional Ger-
many. Nascent parties soon began to crystallize in the Frankfurt assembly,
the body that was charged with drafting a constitution for the new polity.
However, the old order quickly reasserted itself, and when it did the new po-
litical groups disappeared. The restored monarchies drove most political ac-
tivists into exile and reinstated restrictions on political speech. Because of
these restrictions, through the third quarter of the nineteenth century Ger-
man parties continued to be defined in terms of their viewpoints rather than
by their activities or organizational links.
As students of German constitutionalism first noted in the 1830s, an-
other reason why German parties remained weaker than their English
counterparts was that German governments (“ministries”) were ap-
pointed by, and responsible to, autocratic monarchs, not to legislatures.
20 SUSAN E. SCARROW

The different position of the sovereign in German and English parlia-

mentarism, and its implications for political parties, remained an impor-
tant theme for German constitutional scholars through the end of the
Wilhelmine Empire (Schönberger 1997). A few proponents of English
parliamentarism, such as Robert von Mohl, wanted German parties to as-
sume the greater role they held under English-style responsible party gov-
ernment (1872; chapter 10). However, throughout the nineteenth century
most German politicians and scholars opposed the importation of this
“foreign” system. For authors such as the ultranationalist historian
Heinrich von Treitschke, one of the main advantages of the German sys-
tem was precisely that it maintained a strong supraparty executive that
could protect the national welfare (1903).
This ideal of a national welfare that transcended party conflicts domi-
nated German discussions of party roles well into the first half of the twen-
tieth century. Indeed, from the nineteenth century onward many German
reflections on parties took it as both axiomatic and significant that “pars”
(“part”) is the Latin root of the word “party” (in German: “Parteien”), so that
by definition parties do not represent the interests of the whole people. Be-
cause this was such a common starting point, those who sought to portray
parties as a normal and inevitable component of public life often began by
refuting the idea that there was a national will that existed above the parties.
Even at the end of the nineteenth century, long after organized parties were
a well-established feature of German political life, German party scholarship
still had to contend with those who held visions of national unity untainted
by party divisions (for instance, Merkel 1898).
German political life became more clearly organized along partisan lines
after the 1871 establishment of the German Empire. This trend was fostered by
unification’s expansion of political rights, and by the new system’s emphasis on
legislatures and legislative elections. Before unification, German territories had
been governed as more or less autocratic monarchies and principalities. Most
had a strong hereditary executive and weak bicameral assemblies with elected
lower chambers and upper chambers composed of hereditary and appointed
representatives. The imperial legislature mirrored these arrangements, but had
an elected lower chamber that was much more influential than most of its pre-
decessors. This influence was bolstered by the chamber’s large electorate. In
Germany, as in France, adult manhood suffrage was introduced in the wake of
the short-lived 1848 Revolution. As in France, some of the reactionary regimes
that replaced the revolutionary ones maintained broad enfranchisement even
while devaluing the role of elections themselves. For instance, the Prussian
kingdom maintained manhood suffrage, although it combined this with un-
equal suffrage rights (Vogel, Nohlen, and Schultze 1971). Nevertheless, when
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 21

Prussia led the first steps toward German unification in 1866, it accepted that
the new confederation’s assembly should be elected under the equal, secret, and
direct adult manhood suffrage that had been used in the Frankfurt Assembly
elected after the 1848 Revolution. Adult manhood suffrage continued to be
used at the national level when German unification created a political system in
which elections were to play a bigger role.
Under Germany’s 1871 constitution, the government was led by a chan-
cellor who was appointed by the German Kaiser. The legislature consisted of
a popularly elected chamber (the Reichstag, elected from single-member dis-
tricts using a double-ballot majoritarian system) and an assembly (the Bun-
desrat) composed of representatives of Germany’s constituent states. The
chancellor was undoubtedly the most central of these political actors, and he
held many tools—constitutional and extraconstitutional—for influencing
public policy. Even so, the Reichstag was far from powerless, since its consent
was necessary for the passage of new laws and for the adoption of the mili-
tary budget. The requirement to assemble legislative majorities contributed
to the development of formal party blocks within the legislature, which in
turn encouraged elections to be contested in partisan terms. On the other
hand, because the chancellor did not need the support of a single, permanent
legislative coalition, and because the Reichstag’s runoff electoral system en-
couraged intrablock competition (like the comparable French system), there
was little institutional pressure for party system consolidation. For all these
reasons, when active party life finally emerged in Germany it was much more
fragmented than that in the United States or Great Britain.
Partisan divisions in the new empire were further aggravated by the obso-
lescence of unification as a political issue, because national unification was a
goal that had united diverse interests for much of the nineteenth century. In
imperial Germany proponents of constitutional government divided into
two principle groups. The National Liberals put the stress on the “national,”
defining themselves by their opposition to the “nationally divisive” Socialists
and Catholics. The left liberals (a grouping of tendencies that bore a succes-
sion of titles in imperial Germany) were at times less hostile toward social-
ism and could be less nationalist and imperialist than their National Liberal
cousins. Whereas both types of liberalism found it difficult to mobilize vot-
ers in the new era of electoral politics, other groupings won increasing sup-
port (Sheehan 1978). Prominent on the right was the German Conservative
Party, founded in 1876 by large landowners in order to promote agricultural
interests. This was initially an elitist party, but by the 1890s it began re-
sponding to the exigencies of electoral politics, expanding its appeal, and its
organizational networks, with the aim of attracting a broad spectrum of rural
voters (Retallack 1988). Meanwhile, the Catholic Center party consolidated
22 SUSAN E. SCARROW

its vote in the empire’s first decades. On the left, the Social Democratic vote
rose from 3 percent in 1871 to 27 percent in 1898. Group loyalty to the lat-
ter two parties was boosted by Chancellor Bismarck’s persecution of the par-
ties’ key constituents (Catholics and Socialists, respectively) and was also
furthered by the new parties’ efforts to organize outside the legislatures.
These efforts continued to be constrained by legal restrictions through
the end of the nineteenth century. Until 1899, laws prevented all links be-
tween local party groups. Moreover, until the new Association Law of 1908,
all local political associations had to notify local authorities whenever they
held public meetings, and women and minors were legally excluded from all
such gatherings. In addition to these general restrictions, the Social Democ-
rats faced even greater organizational obstacles. Between 1878 and 1890,
Bismarck’s anti-Socialist laws drastically restricted Social Democratic activ-
ities: candidates could campaign and take seats in the legislature, but the
party was prevented from holding meetings, publishing political pamphlets,
or pursuing any other form of partisan activity. In response, Social Democ-
rats took their organization underground, directing supporters’ energies into
such nominally apolitical associations as singing clubs and hiking groups.
These social organizations became more openly partisan after Bismarck’s or-
ganizational restrictions were lifted, and by the end of the nineteenth cen-
tury the party’s network of social, educational, and economic support
associations was contributing to its growing electoral success. Other parties
recognized a connection between the Social Democrats’ organizational and
electoral success, and in the 1890s backers of the Catholic Center Party and
the National Liberals responded with their own efforts to build up organi-
zations for mobilizing mass support (though these organizations remained
distinct from the parties themselves) (Fairbairn 1996; Turk 1990).
Thus, in Germany, as in France, debates about the proper role of political
parties were embedded in political struggles to define the strength of the ex-
ecutive and legislature, and in philosophical assumptions about the desirable
unity of the common will. In both countries scholars were not confronted
with the empirical experience of open and organized mass partisan politics
until late in the century. Probably because of this, in Germany, as in France,
writing about parties focused on constitutional and systemic questions for
much longer than the more pragmatic English and American debates.

Conclusion

As these brief histories suggest, experiences of parties and partisan politics

varied greatly across time and across national boundaries. It is important to
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 23

keep these differences in mind when reading the contributions that follow,
because they shape authors’ definitions of what parties are, and of what they
could, or should, be. Yet despite these differences, the contributions from all
four countries make clear that the nineteenth century saw a transition from
a general suspicion of parties to a widespread acceptance of—if not enthusi-
asm for—party-based politics.
As will become clear in the readings that follow, thinking about parties
developed as an early branch of comparative politics, with authors from all
countries weighing up the implications of political developments in their
own as well as other countries. Because of the cross-fertilization of these de-
bates, the selections that follow are arranged topically and chronologically,
not nationally. The texts are divided into five sections. The first section pre-
sents a few crucial pre-nineteenth-century reflections on parties and gives a
taste of the intellectual heritage that continued to shape views of parties in
the next century. The next section focuses on a normative question that is
still studied by today’s political theorists: “What role—if any—should parties
play in the well-governed state?” The third section includes writings that
more specifically consider the roles parties should play in organizing legisla-
tures. These sections are followed by more empirically inspired contribu-
tions on topics that have obvious counterparts in contemporary political
science. Section four includes some of the original debates about how to clas-
sify and explain different types of parties and party systems. Finally, the se-
lections in section five consider how parties organize outside the legislatures,
and they debate the extent to which strong or even corrupt extralegislative
organizations are a necessary feature of partisan politics.
At this point it is appropriate to say something about the conventions
that have been followed when preparing the selections. First, I have tried
wherever possible to present the selections in a version resembling the
original. In the main body of the texts I have generally included
unabridged sections and have avoided editorial elisions as much as possi-
ble. In contrast, I have done a bit more editing of footnotes, particularly in
cases where authors use these for long digressions. I have, however, kept
most of the original notes that provide references to other texts and other
authors, because these are useful evidence of the intellectual context in
which writers were developing their views about party-based government.
In this same spirit of presenting original texts largely as their authors wrote
them, I have stuck with original spelling throughout except in the cases of
obvious typographical errors. Where available, I have used nineteenth-
century translations of the German and French authors, because these are
what contemporary readers would have been looking at. Other translations
are my own. I have omitted sections of material in some of the chapters. In
24 SUSAN E. SCARROW

many cases, I have provided commentary in lieu of the missing sections.

These omissions and comments are italicized and bracketed. If there is no
comment provided, a simple [ . . .] indicates the missing text.
Taken together, the texts in this collection show how nineteenth-century
analysts struggled to create theories of government that incorporated parties
in ways that took account of that century’s evolving political systems. In so
doing, they help to illuminate contemporary efforts to “come to terms” with
parties’ roles in our own changing political world.

Sources

Austin, John. 1859. A Plea for the Constitution. 2d ed. London: John Murray.
Bentley, Michael. 1984. Politics Without Democracy. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
Beyme, Klaus von. 1978. “Partei, Faktion.” In Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe, vol. 4, ed.
Otto Brunner, Werner Conze, and Reinhart Koselleck. Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta.
Pp. 677–735.
Blackbourn, David. 1997. The Long Nineteenth Century. Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
Boutmy, Emile. 1896. The English Constitution. Translated by Isabel Eaden. London:
Macmillan and Co.
Brock, Michael. 1973. The Great Reform Act. London: Hutchinson.
Brougham, Henry Lord. 1839. Historical Sketches of Statesmen who Flourished in the Time of
George III. London: Charles Knight & Co.
Campbell, Peter. 1958. French Electoral Systems and Elections Since 1789. London: Faber and
Faber.
Chambers, William and Philip Davis. 1978. “Party, Competition, and Mass Partici-
pation.” In The History of American Electoral Behavior, ed. Joel Silbey, Allan Bogue and
William Flanigan. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Pp. 174–197.
Cox, Gary. 1987. The Efficient Secret. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Cree, Nathan. 1892. Direct Legislation by the People. Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co.
Fairbairn, Brett. 1996. “Political Mobilization.” In Imperial Germany: A Historiographical
Companion, ed. Roger Chickering. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press. Pp.
303–342.
Ford, Henry Jones. 1898. The Rise and Growth of American Politics. New York: The
Macmillan Co.
Gash, Norman. 1977. Politics in the Age of Peel. 2d ed. Hassocks, England: Harvester
Press.
Goodnow, Frank. 1900. Politics and Administration. London: The Macmillan Co.
Grey, Henry George, 3rd Earl. 1858. Parliamentary Government Considered with a Reference
to a Reform of Parliament. London: Richard Bentley.
Gunn, J. A. W. 1972. Factions No More. London: Frank Cass.
Hanham, H. J. 1959. Elections and Party Management. London: Longmans.
Hawkins, Angus. 1987. Parliament, Party and the Art of Politics in Britain, 1855–59. Stanford:
Stanford University Press.
 COMING TO TERMS WITH PARTIES IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 25

Hill, Brian. 1976. The Growth of Parliamentary Parties 1689–1742. London: George Allen
and Unwin.
Hoadley, John. 1986. Origins of American Political Parties 1789–1803. Lexington: The Uni-
versity of Kentucky Press.
Huard, Raymond. 1991. Le Suffrage universel en France. Paris: Aubier.
———. 1996. La Naissance du parti politique en France. Paris: Presses de Science Po.
Jenkins, T. A. 1996. Parliament, Party and Politics in Victorian Britain. Manchester: Man-
chester University Press.
Laveleye, Émile de. 1871. “Le Régime parlementaire et les partis en Italie.” Revue des
Deux Mondes 93: 92–104.
Lowell, Abbott Lawrence. 1897. Governments and Parties in Continental Europe. 2 vols.
Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co.
Merkel, Adolf. 1898. Fragmente zur Sozialwissenschaft. Strasburg: Karl J. Trübner Verlag.
Mohl, Robert von. 1872. Enzyklopädie der Staatswissenschaften. 2d. ed. Freiburg in Breis-
gau: J.C.B. Mohr.
Morse, Anson. 1891. “The Place of Party in the Political System.” Annals of the Ameri-
can Academy 2: 300–8.
Newbould, Ian. 1990. Whiggery and Reform, 1830–41. Stanford: Stanford University
Press.
Ostrogorski, Moisei. 1902. Democracy and the Organization of Political Parties. 2 vols. Trans-
lated by Frederick Clarke. New York: The Macmillan Co.
Quagliariello, Gaetano. 1996. Politics without Parties. Aldershot, Hants: Avebury.
Ranney, Austin and Wilmoore Kendall. 1956. Democracy and the American Party System.
New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co.
Ranney, Austin. 1975. Curing the Mischiefs of Faction. Berkeley: University of California
Press.
Retallack, James. 1988. Notables of the Right. Boston: Unwin Hyman.
Rohmer, Friedrich. 1844. Die vier Parteien. Zürich: Ch. Beyel.
Schieder, Theodor, 1969. “Die Theorie der Partei im älteren deutschen Liberalis-
mus.” In Beiträge zur allgemeinen Parteienlehre, ed. Gilbert Ziebura. Darmstadt: Wis-
senschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Pp. 33–55.
Schmidt, Richard and Adolf Gabowsky. 1912. “Die Parteien: Urkunde und Bibli-
ographie der Parteikunde.” Zeitschrift für Politik Beiheft 1: 1.
Schönberger, Christoph. 1997. Das Parlament im Anstaltstaat. Frankfurt am Main: Vitto-
rio Klostermann.
Sheehan, James. 1978. German Liberalism in the Nineteenth Century. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Tocqueville, Alexis de. 1839. Democracy in America. Translated by Henry Reeve. New
York: George Adelard.
Treitschke, Heinrich von. 1903. “Parteien und Fractionen.” In Freiheit und Königthum,
vol. 3 of Historische und Politische Aufsätze. 6th ed. Leipzig: G. Hirzel Verlag. Pp.
565–627.
Turk, Eleanor. 1990. “German Liberals and the Genesis of the Association Law of
1908.” In In Search of a Liberal Germany, ed. Konrad Jarausch and Larry Eugene Jones.
New York: Berg. Pp. 237–260
Vogel, Bernhard, Dieter Nohlen, and Raine-Olaf Schultze. 1971. Wahlen in Deutsch-
land. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter.
26 SUSAN E. SCARROW

Weizsäcker, Richard von. 1992. “Richard von Weizsäcker im Gespräch mit Gunter
Hofmann und Werner A. Perger.” Die Zeit, 19 June: 1, 4.
Washington, George. 1896. “Farewell Address.” In A Compilation of the Messages and Pa-
pers of the Presidents 1789–1897, vol. 1, ed. James Richardson. Washington: Govern-
ment Printing Office. Pp. 213–224.
Williams, Glyn and John Ramsden. 1990. Ruling Britannia: A Political History of Britain,
1688–1988. London: Longmans.
Wilson, Woodrow. 1885. Congressional Government: A Study in American Politics. Boston:
Houghton, Mifflin, and Co.
 PART 1.

Eighteenth Century Antecedents

 CHAPTER 1

The Patriot King and Parties*

Henry Saint-John, Viscount Bolingbroke
1738

The author of this essay served as a Tory member of the House of Commons for over
a decade before he was created Viscount Bolingbroke as a reward for his service in
diplomatic negotiations. He was an influential advisor to Queen Anne but wound up
in exile after supporting the wrong side of the succession controversy that followed her
death in 1714. After Bolingbroke was pardoned in 1723 he returned to England, where
he worked with Whig politicians as he pursued the reinstatement of his estates and ti-
tles. Though he gained the former, Horace Walpole, leader of the Whigs, blocked Bol-
ingbroke’s return to the House of Lords. Thereafter, Bolingbroke remained a political
outsider who worked to unite Whig and Tory opponents of Walpole’s domination of
British politics. The excerpt printed here comes from Bolingbroke’s long treatise on
“The Patriot King,” which is a prescription for hereditary and limited monarchy in
which the king would play a leading role in politics, staying above parties in order to
act in the national interest.1

T
o espouse no party, but to govern like the common father of his
people, is so essential to the character of a Patriot King, that he who
does otherwise forfeits the title. It is the peculiar privilege and glory
of this character, that princes who maintain it, and they alone, are so far
from necessity, that they are not exposed to the temptation, of governing by
a party; which must always end in the government of a faction; the faction
of the prince, if he has ability; the faction of his ministers, if he has not; and,

* Henry Saint-John, Viscount Bolingbroke. n.d. [18xx]. "On the idea of a Pa-
triot King." In Letters on the Study and Use of History, etc. London: Ward, Lock & Co. Pp.
214–217.
S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties
© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
30 HENRY SAINT-JOHN, VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE

either one way or other, in the oppression of the people. For faction is to
party what the superlative is to the positive; party is a political evil, and fac-
tion is the worst of all parties. The true image of a free people, governed by
a Patriot King, is that of a patriarchal family, where the head and all the
members are united by one common interest, and animated by one com-
mon spirit; and where, if any are perverse enough to have another, they will
be soon borne down by the superiority of those who have the same; and, far
from making a division, they will but confirm the union of the little state.
That to approach as near as possible to these ideas of perfect government,
and social happiness under it, is desirable in every state, no man will be ab-
surd enough to deny. The sole question is, therefore, how near to them it is
possible to attain? For, if this attempt be not absolutely impracticable, all
the views of a Patriot King will be directed to make it succeed. Instead of
abetting the divisions of his people, he will endeavor to unite them, and to
be himself the centre of their union; instead of putting himself at the head
of one party in order to govern his people, he will put himself at the head of
his people in order to govern, or more properly to subdue, all parties. Now,
to arrive at this desirable union, and to maintain it, will be found more dif-
ficult in some cases than in others, but absolutely impossible in none, to a
wise and good prince.
If his people are united in their submission to him, and in their attach-
ment to the established government, he must not only espouse but create a
party, in order to govern by one; and what should tempt him to pursue so
wild a measure? A prince, who aims at more power than the constitution
gives him may be so tempted; because he may hope to obtain in the disor-
ders of the state what cannot be obtained in quiet times; and because con-
tending parties will give what a nation will not. Parties, even before they
degenerate into absolute factions, are still numbers of men associated to-
gether for certain purposes, and certain interests, which are not, or which
are not allowed to be, those of the community by others. A more private or
personal interest comes but too soon, and too often, to be superadded, and
to grow predominant in them; and when it does so, whatever occasions or
principles began to form them, the same logic prevails in them that prevails
in every church. The interest of the state is supposed to be that of the party,
as the interest of religion is supposed to be that of the church; and with this
pretence or prepossession, the interest of the state becomes, like that of re-
ligion, a remote consideration, is never pursued for its own sake, and is
often sacrificed to the other. A king, therefore, who has ill designs to carry
on, must endeavor to divide a united people; and by blending or seeming to
blend his interests with that of a party, he may succeed perhaps, and his
 THE PATRIOT KING AND PARTIES 31

party and he may share the spoils of a ruined nation; but such a party is then
become a faction, such a king is a tyrant, and such government is a conspir-
acy. A Patriot King must renounce his character, to have such designs; or act
against his own designs, to pursue such methods. Both are too absurd to be
supposed. It remains, therefore, that as all the good ends of government are
most attainable in a united state, and as the divisions of a people can serve
to bad purposes alone, the king we suppose here will deem the union of his
subjects his greatest advantage, and will think himself happy to find that es-
tablished, which he would have employed the whole labour of his life to
bring about. This seems so plain, that I am ready to make excuses for hav-
ing insisted at all upon it.
Let us turn ourselves to another supposition, to that of a divided state.
This will fall in oftener with the ordinary course of things in free govern-
ments, and especially after iniquitous and weak administrations. Such a
state may be better or worse, and the great and good purposes of a patriot
king more or less attainable in it, according to the different nature of those
divisions; and, therefore, we will consider this state in different lights.
A people may yet be united in submission to the prince, and to the estab-
lishment, and yet be divided about general principles, or particular measures
of government. In the first case, they will strain their constitution, strain to
their own notions and prejudices; and if they cannot strain it, alter it as much
as is necessary to render it conformable to them. In the second, they will
support or oppose particular acts of administrations, and defend or attack
the persons employed in them; and both these ways a conflict of parties may
arise, but no great difficulty to a prince who determines to pursue the union
of his subjects and prosperity of his kingdoms, independently of party.
When parties are divided by different notions and principles concerning
some particular ecclesiastical or civil institutions, the constitution, which
should be their rule, must be that of the prince. He may and he ought to
show his dislike or his favour, as he judges the constitution may be hurt or
improved by one side or the other. The hurt he is never to suffer, not for his
own sake, and therefore surely not for the sake of any whimsical, factious, or
ambitious set of men. The improvement he must always desire; but as every
new modification in a scheme of government and of national policy is of
great importance, and requires more and deeper consideration than the
warmth and hurry and rashness of party-conduct admit, the duty of a prince
seems to require that he should render by his influence the proceedings more
orderly and more deliberate, even when he approves the end to which they
are directed. All this may be done by him without fomenting division; and,
far from espousing a party, he will defeat party in defence of the constitution
32 HENRY SAINT-JOHN, VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE

on some occasions, and lead men, from acting with a party spirit, to act with
a national spirit on others.

Notes

1. Dickinson, H. T. 1970. Bolingbroke. London: Constable.

 CHAPTER 2

Of Parties in General*
David Hume
1742

David Hume (1711–1776) was a Scottish “man of letters” who wrote on a wide range of
philosophical and political topics. The essay excerpted here comes from his second major
work, a volume that received much favorable attention when it was published. In the sec-
tion below, Hume equates parties, factions, and sects. He locates their origins in human
nature and sees them as ineradicable and therefore as acceptable. He nevertheless de-
nounces many of the grounds around which factions form and condemns the effects of
partisan disputes.

A
s much as legislators and founders of states ought to be honoured
and respected among men, as much ought the founders of sects and
factions to be detested and hated; because the influence of faction is
directly contrary to that of laws. Factions subvert government, render laws
impotent, and beget the fiercest animosities among men of the same nation,
who ought to give mutual assistance and protection to each other. And what
should render the founder of parties more odious, is the difficulty of extir-
pating these weeds, when once they have taken root in any state. They natu-
rally propagate themselves for many centuries, and seldom end but by the
total dissolution of that government, in which they are sown. They are, be-
sides, plants which grow most plentifully in the richest soil; and though ab-
solute governments be not wholly free from them, it must be confessed, that
they rise more easily, and propagate themselves faster in free governments,

*David Hume. n.d. [187x]. Essays, Literary, Moral, and Political. London: Ward, Lock &
Co. Pp. 36–40.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
34 DAVID HUME

where they always infect the legislature itself, which alone could be able, by
the steady application of rewards and punishments, to eradicate them.
Factions may be divided into Personal and Real; that is, into factions,
founded on personal friendship or animosity among such as compose the
contending parties, and into those founded on some real difference of sen-
timent or interest. The reason of this distinction is obvious; though I must
acknowledge, that parties are seldom found pure and unmixed, either of the
one kind or the other. It is not often seen, that a government divides into
factions, where there is no difference in the views of the constituent mem-
bers, either real or apparent, trivial or material; and in those factions, which
are founded on the most real and most material difference, there is always
observed a great deal of personal animosity or affection. But notwithstand-
ing this mixture, a party may be denominated either personal or real, ac-
cording to that principle which is predominated, and is found to have the
greatest influence.
Personal factions arise most easily in small republics. Every domestic
quarrel, there, becomes an affair of state. Love, vanity, emulation, any pas-
sion, as well as ambition and resentment, begets public division. The Neri
and Bianchi of Florence, the Fregosi and Adorni of Genoa, the Colenesi and Orsini
of modern Rome were parties of this kind.
Men have such a propensity to divide into personal factions, that the small-
est appearance of real difference will produce them. What can be imagined
more trivial than the difference between one colour livery and another in
horse races? Yet this difference begat two most inveterate factions in the
Greek Empire, the Prasini and Veneti, who never suspended their animosities
till they ruined that unhappy government.
We find in the Roman history a remarkable dissension between two
tribes, the Pollia and Papiria, which continued for the space of near three hun-
dred years, and discovered itself in their suffrages at every election of magis-
trates.1 This faction was the more remarkable as it could continue for so long
a tract of time; even though it did not spread itself, nor draw any of the other
tribes into a share of the quarrel. If mankind had not a strong propensity to
such divisions, the indifference of the rest of the community must have sup-
pressed this foolish animosity, that had not any aliment of new benefits and
injuries, of general sympathy and antipathy, which never fail to take place,
when the whole state is rent into two equal factions.
Nothing is more usual than to see parties, which have begun upon a real
difference, continue even after that difference is lost. When men are once
enlisted on opposite sides, they contract an affection to the persons with
whom they are united, and an animosity against their antagonists: and these
passions they often transmit to their posterity. The real difference between
 OF PARTIES IN GENERAL 35

Guelf and Ghibbelline was long lost in Italy, before these factions were ex-
tinguished. The Guelfs adhered to the Pope, the Ghibbellines to the em-
peror; yet the family of Sforza, who were in alliance with the emperor,
though they were Guelfs, being expelled [ from] Milan by the king of France,
assisted by Jacomo Trivulzio and the Ghibbellines, the pope concurred with
the latter, and they formed leagues with the pope against the emperor.
The civil wars which arose some few years ago in Morocco between the
blacks and whites, merely on account of their complexion, are founded on a
pleasant difference. We laugh at them; but I believe, were things rightly ex-
amined, we afford much more occasion of ridicule to the Moors. For, what
are all the wars of religion, which have prevailed in this polite and knowing
part of the world? They are certainly more absurd than the Moorish civil
wars. The difference of complexion is a sensible and real difference: but the
controversy about an article of faith, which is unintelligible, is not a differ-
ence in sentiment, but in a few phrases and expressions, which one party ac-
cepts of, without understanding them; and the other refuses in the same
manner.
Real factions may be divided into those from interest, from principle, and
from affection. Of all factions, the first are the most reasonable, and the most
excusable. Where two orders of men, such as the nobles and people, have a
distinct authority in a government, not very accurately balanced and mod-
elled, they naturally follow a distinct interest; nor can we reasonably expect
a different conduct, considering that degree of selfishness implanted in
human nature. It requires great skill in a legislator to prevent such parties;
and many philosophers are of [the] opinion, that this secret, like the grand
elixir, or perpetual motion, may amuse men in theory, but can never possibly be
reduced to practice. In despotic governments, indeed, factions often do not
appear; but they are not the less real; or rather, they are more real and more
pernicious, upon that very account. The distinct orders of men, nobles and
people, soldiers and merchants, have all a distinct interest; but the more
powerful oppresses the weaker with impunity, and without resistance;
which begets a seeming tranquillity in such governments.
There has been an attempt in England to divide the landed and trading part
of the nation; but without success. The interests of these two bodies are not
really distinct, and never will be so, till our public debts increase to such a de-
gree, as to become altogether oppressive and intolerable.
Parties from principle, especially abstract speculative principle, are known
only to modern times, and are, perhaps, the most extraordinary and unac-
countable phenomenon that has yet appeared in human affairs. Where differ-
ent principles beget a contrariety of conduct, which is the case with all
different political principles, the matter may be more easily explained. A
36 DAVID HUME

man, who esteems the true right of government to lie in one man or one
family, cannot easily agree with his fellow-citizen, who thinks that another
man or family is possessed of this right. Each naturally wishes that right may
take place, according to his own notions of it. But where the difference of
principle is attended with no contrariety of action, but every one may follow
his own way, without interfering with his neighbor, as happens in all religious
controversies; what madness, what fury, can beget such an unhappy [sic] and
such fatal divisions?

Notes

1. [Hume inserts a note here with an excerpt from Livy’s account of this rivalry.]
 CHAPTER 3

Thoughts on the Cause

of the Present Discontents*
Edmund Burke
1770

The Irish-born Edmund Burke (1729–1797) came to London to study law and stayed to
become a well-known political pamphleteer and leading Whig intellectual. He was
elected to the House of Commons in 1765. In his speeches and writing on behalf of Lord
Rockingham’s Whig faction, he consistently argued to limit the authority of the crown.
In the essay excerpted below Burke endorses political parties as not only inevitable but
honorable, making what has been described as “the first argument in the history of polit-
ical philosophy for the respectability, not merely the necessity, of parties.”1 The excerpt
below includes Burke’s famous definition of parties as “a body of men united for promot-
ing by their joint endeavors the national interest upon some particular principle in
which they are all agreed.” This definition was widely and approvingly quoted through-
out the nineteenth century. The reading below begins with a reference to the “cabal,”
Burke’s term for the rival Whig faction associated with the Court.2

T
his cabal has, with great success, propagated a doctrine which serves
for a color to those acts of treachery; and whilst it receives any de-
gree of countenance it will be utterly senseless to look for a vigorous
opposition to the court party. The doctrine is this: That all political connec-
tions are in their nature factious, and as such ought to be dissipated and de-
stroyed; and that the rule for forming administrations is mere personal
ability, rated by the judgment of this cabal upon it, and taken by draughts

*Edmund Burke. 1889. The Works of the Right Honorable Edmund Burke. Vol. I. Boston:
Little, Brown & Company. Pp. 525–534.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
38 EDMUND BURKE

from every division and denomination of public men. This decree was
solemnly promulgated by the head of the court corps, the Earl of Bute him-
self, in a speech which he made, in the year 1766, against the then adminis-
tration, the only administration which he has ever been known directly and
publicly to oppose.
It is indeed in no way wonderful, that such persons should make such de-
clarations. That connection and faction are equivalent terms, is an opinion
which has been carefully inculcated at all times by unconstitutional states-
men. The reason is evident. Whilst men are linked together, they easily and
speedily communicate the alarm of any evil design. They are enabled to
fathom it with common counsel, and to oppose it with united strength.
Whereas, when they lie dispersed, without concert, order, or discipline,
communication is uncertain, counsel difficult, and resistance impracticable.
Where men are not acquainted with each other’s principles, nor experi-
enced in each other’s talents, nor at all practised in their mutual habitudes
and dispositions by joint efforts in business; no personal confidence, no
friendship, no common interest, subsisting among them; it is evidently im-
possible that they can act a public part with uniformity, perseverance, or ef-
ficacy. In a connection, the most inconsiderable man, by adding to the
weight of the whole, has his value, and his use; out of it, the greatest talents
are wholly unserviceable to the public. No man, who is not inflamed by
vainglory into enthusiasm, can flatter himself that his single, unsupported,
desultory, unsystematic endeavors are of power to defeat the subtle designs
and united cabals of ambitious citizens. When bad men combine, the good
must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a con-
temptible struggle.
It is not enough in a situation of trust in the commonwealth, that a man
means well to his country; it is not enough that in his single person he never
did an evil act, but always voted according to his conscience, and even ha-
rangued against every design which he apprehended to be prejudicial to the
interests of his country. This innoxious and ineffectual character, that seems
formed upon a plan of apology and disculpation, falls miserably short of the
mark of public duty. That duty demands and requires, that what is right
should not only be made known, but made prevalent; that what is evil should
not only be detected, but defeated. When the public man omits to put him-
self in a situation of doing his duty with effect, it is an omission that frus-
trates the purposes of his trust almost as much as if he had formally betrayed
it. It is surely no very rational account of a man’s life, that he has always acted
right; but has taken special care, to act in such a manner that his endeavors
could not possibly be productive of any consequence.
 THOUGHTS ON THE CAUSE OF THE PRESENT DISCONTENTS 39

I do not wonder that the behavior of many parties should have made per-
sons of tender and scrupulous virtue somewhat out of humor with all sorts of
connection in politics. I admit that people frequently acquire in such confed-
eracies a narrow, bigoted, and proscriptive spirit; that they are apt to sink the
idea of the general good in this circumscribed and partial interest. But, where
duty renders a critical situation a necessary one, it is our business to keep free
from the evils attendant upon it; and not to fly from the situation itself. If a
fortress is seated in an unwholesome air, an officer of the garrison is obliged
to be attentive to his health, but he must not desert his station. Every profes-
sion, not excepting the glorious one of a soldier, or the sacred one of a priest,
is liable to its own particular vices; which, however, form no argument against
those ways of life; nor are the vices themselves inevitable to every individual
in those professions. Of such a nature are connections in politics; essentially
necessary for the full performance of our public duty, accidentally liable to de-
generate into faction. Commonwealths are made of families, free common-
wealths of parties also; and we may as well affirm, that our natural regards and
ties of blood tend inevitably to make men bad citizens, as that the bonds of
our party weaken those by which we are held to our country.
Some legislators went so far as to make neutrality in party a crime against
the state. I do not know whether this might not have been rather to over-
strain the principle. Certain it is, the best patriots in the greatest common-
wealths have always commended and promoted such connections. Idem
sentire de republica,3 was with them a principal ground of friendship and at-
tachment; nor do I know any other capable of forming firmer, dearer, more
pleasing, more honorable, and more virtuous habitudes. The Romans car-
ried this principle a great way. Even the holding of offices together, the dis-
position of which arose from chance, not selection, gave rise to a relation
which continued for life. It was called necessitudo sortis4; and it was looked
upon with a sacred reverence. Breaches of any of these kinds of civil relation
were considered as acts of the most distinguished turpitude. The whole
people was distributed into political societies, in which they acted in sup-
port of such interests in the state as they severally affected. For it was then
thought no crime to endeavor by every honest means to advance to superi-
ority and power those of your own sentiments and opinions. This wise peo-
ple was far from imagining that those connections had no tie, and obliged
to no duty; but that men might quit them without shame, upon every call of
interest. They believed private honor to be the great foundation of public
trust; that friendship was no mean step towards patriotism; that he who, in
the common intercourse of life, showed he regarded somebody besides
himself, when he came to act in a public situation, might probably consult
40 EDMUND BURKE

some other interest than his own. Never may we become plus sages que les sages,5
as the French comedian has happily expressed it, wiser than all the wise and
good men who have lived before us. It was their wish, to see public and pri-
vate virtues, not dissonant and jarring, and mutually destructive, but har-
moniously combined, growing out of one another in a noble and orderly
gradation, reciprocally supporting and supported. In one of the most fortu-
nate periods of our history this country was governed by a connection; I mean,
the great connection of Whigs in the reign of Queen Anne. They were
complimented upon the principle of this connection by a poet who was in
high esteem with them. Addison, who knew their sentiments, could not
praise them for what they considered as no proper subject of commenda-
tion. As a poet who knew his business, he could not applaud them for a
thing which in general estimation was not highly reputable. Addressing
himself to Britain,—

“Thy favorites grow not up by fortune’s sport,

Or from the crimes or follies of a court.
On the firm basis of desert they rise,
From long-tried faith, and friendship’s holy ties.”

The Whigs of those days believed that the only proper method of rising
into power was through hard essays of practised friendship and experi-
mented fidelity. At that time it was not imagined, that patriotism was a
bloody idol, which required the sacrifice of children and parents, or dearest
connections in private life, and of all the virtues that rise from those rela-
tions. They were not of that ingenious paradoxical morality, to imagine that
a spirit of moderation was properly shown in patiently bearing the sufferings
of your friends; or that disinterestedness was clearly manifested at the ex-
pense of other people’s fortune. They believed that no men could act with
effect, who did not act in concert; that no men could act in concert, who did
not act with confidence; that no men could act with confidence, who were
not bound together by common opinions, common affections, and common
interests.
These wise men, for such I must call Lord Sunderland, Lord Godolphin,
Lord Somers, and Lord Marlborough, were too well principled in these max-
ims upon which the whole fabric of public strength is built, to be blown off
their ground by the breath of every childish talker. They were not afraid that
they should be called an ambitious junto; or that their resolution to stand or
fall together should, by placemen, be interpreted into a scuffle for places.
Party is a body of men united for promoting by their joint endeavors the
national interest upon some particular principle in which they are all agreed.
For my part, I find it impossible to conceive that any one believes in his own
 THOUGHTS ON THE CAUSE OF THE PRESENT DISCONTENTS 41

politics; or thinks them to be of any weight, who refuses to adopt the means
of having them reduced into practice. It is the business of the speculative
philosopher to mark the proper ends of government. It is the business of the
politician, who is the philosopher in action, to find out proper means to-
wards those ends, and to employ them with effect. Therefore every honor-
able connection will avow it is their first purpose, to pursue every just
method to put the men who hold their opinions into such a condition as may
enable them to carry their common plans into execution, with all the power
and authority of the state. As this power is attached to certain situations, it
is their duty to contend for these situations. Without a proscription of oth-
ers, they are bound to give to their own party the preference in all things; and
by no means, for private considerations, to accept any offers of power in
which the whole body is not included; nor to suffer themselves to be led, or
to be controlled, or to be overbalanced, in office or in council, by those who
contradict the very fundamental principles on which their party is formed,
and even those upon which every fair connection must stand. Such a gener-
ous contention for power, on such manly and honorable maxims, will easily
be distinguished from the mean and interested struggle for place and emol-
ument. The very style of such persons will serve to discriminate them from
those numberless impostors, who have deluded the ignorant with profes-
sions incompatible with human practice, and have afterwards incensed them
by practices below the level of vulgar rectitude.
It is an advantage to all narrow wisdom and narrow morals, that their
maxims have a plausible air: and, on a cursory view, appear equal to first prin-
ciples. They are light and portable. They are as current as copper coin; and
about as valuable. They serve equally the first capacities and the lowest; and
they are, at least, as useful to the worst men as to the best. Of this stamp is
the cant of Not men, but measures; a sort of charm by which many people get
loose from every honorable engagement. When I see a man acting this
desultory and disconnected part, with as much detriment to his own fortune
as prejudice to the cause of any party, I am not persuaded that he is right; but
I am ready to believe he is in earnest. I respect virtue in all its situations; even
when it is found in the unsuitable company of weakness. I lament to see
qualities, rare and valuable, squandered away without any public utility. But
when a gentleman with great visible emoluments abandons the party in
which he has long acted, and tells you, it is because he proceeds upon his own
judgment; that he acts on the merits of the several measures as they arise; and
that he is obliged to follow his own conscience, and not that of others; he
gives reasons which it is impossible to controvert, and discovers a character
which it is impossible to mistake. What shall we think of him who never dif-
fered from a certain set of men until the moment they lost their power, and
42 EDMUND BURKE

who never agreed with them in a single instance afterwards? Would not such
a coincidence of interest and opinion be rather fortunate? Would it not be
an extraordinary cast upon the dice, that a man’s connections should degen-
erate into faction, precisely at the critical moment when they lose their
power, or he accepts a place? When people desert their connections, the de-
sertion is a manifest fact, upon which a direct simple issue lies, triable by plain
men. Whether a measure of government be right or wrong, is no matter of fact,
but a mere affair of opinion, which men may, as they do, dispute and wran-
gle without end. But whether the individual thinks the measure right or
wrong, is a point at still a greater distance from the reach of all human deci-
sion. It is therefore very convenient to politicians, not to put the judgment
of their conduct on overt acts, cognizable in any ordinary court, but upon
such matter as can be triable only in that secret tribunal, where they are sure
of being heard with favor, or where at worst the sentence will be only private
whipping.
I believe the reader would wish to find no substance in a doctrine which
has a tendency to destroy all test of character as deduced from conduct. He
will therefore excuse my adding something more, towards the further clear-
ing up a point, which the great convenience of obscurity to dishonesty has
been able to cover with some degree of darkness and doubt.
In order to throw an odium on political connection, these politicians sup-
pose it a necessary incident to it, that you are blindly to follow the opinions
of your party, when in direct opposition to your own clear ideas; a degree of
servitude that no worthy man could bear the thought of submitting to; and
such as, I believe, no connections (except some court factions) ever could be
so senselessly tyrannical as to impose. Men thinking freely, will, in particular
instances, think differently. But still as the greater part of the measures
which arise in the course of public business are related to, or dependent on,
some great, leading, general principles in government, a man must be peculiarly un-
fortunate in the choice of his political company, if he does not agree with
them at least nine times in ten. If he does not concur in these general prin-
ciples upon which the party is founded, and which necessarily draw on a con-
currence in their application, he ought from the beginning to have chosen
some other, more conformable to his opinions. When the question is in its
nature doubtful, or not very material, the modesty which becomes an indi-
vidual, and, (in spite of our court moralists) that partiality which becomes a
well-chosen friendship, will frequently bring on an acquiescence in the gen-
eral sentiment. Thus the disagreement will naturally be rare; it will be only
enough to indulge freedom, without violating concord, or disturbing
arrangement. And this is all that ever was required for a character of the
greatest uniformity and steadiness in connection. How men can proceed
 THOUGHTS ON THE CAUSE OF THE PRESENT DISCONTENTS 43

without any connection at all, is to me utterly incomprehensible. Of what

sort of materials must that man be made, how must he be tempered and put
together, who can sit whole years in Parliament, with five hundred and fifty
of his fellow-citizens, amidst the storm of such tempestuous passions, in the
sharp conflict of so many wits, and tempers, and characters, in the agitation
of such mighty questions, in the discussion of such vast and ponderous in-
terests, without seeing any one sort of men, whose character, conduct, or dis-
position, would lead him to associate himself with them, to aid and be aided,
in any one system of public utility?

Notes

1. Harvey C. Mansfield, Jr., ed. 1984. Selected Letters of Edmund Burke. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press. P. 31.
2. Stanley Ayling. 1988. Edmund Burke. London: John Murray; Harvey C. Mans-
field, Jr. 1965. Statesmanship and Party Government. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
3. [“To feel the same thing about the republic”]
4. [“necessitudo sortis” was the name the Romans gave to relationships with reciprocal obligations
which were determined by chance. Quaestor and consul would have a necessitudo sortis, for ex-
ample.]
5. [wiser than the wise]
 CHAPTER 4

Farewell Address to Congress*

George Washington
1796

This reading comes from a text prepared by George Washington (1732–1799), six
months before the end of his presidency. In this document, written with the help of
Alexander Hamilton, Washington warns his country against the dangers of foreign en-
tanglements and domestic divisions. Although it emphatically decries factionalism,
Washington’s words were viewed by some of his contemporaries as a veiled endorsement
of the Federalist side in the partisan disputes that had heated up during his second term.
However, subsequent generations generally took a more literal interpretation of the an-
tiparty statements expressed by the revered founder of the country.1

I
n contemplating the causes which may disturb our union it occurs as
matter of serious concern that any ground should have been furnished
for characterizing parties by geographical discriminations—Northern and
Southern, Atlantic and Western—whence designing men may endeavor to ex-
cite a belief that there is a real difference of local interests and views. One
of the expedients of party to acquire influence within particular districts is
to misrepresent the opinions and aims of other districts. You can not shield
yourselves too much against the jealousies and heartburnings which spring
from these misrepresentations; they tend to render alien to each other
those who ought to be bound together by fraternal affection. The inhabi-
tants of our Western country have lately had a useful lesson on this head.

*George Washington. 1896. "Farewell Address to Congress." In A Compilation of the

Messages and Papers of the Presidents 1789–1897. Vol. 1, ed. James Richardson. Washington:
Government Printing Office. Pp. 216–219.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
46 GEORGE WASHINGTON

They have seen in the negotiation by the Executive and in the unanimous
ratification by the Senate of the treaty with Spain, and in the universal sat-
isfaction at that event throughout the United States, a decisive proof how
unfounded were the suspicions propagated among them of a policy in the
General Government and in the Atlantic States unfriendly to their inter-
ests in regard to the Mississippi. They have been witnesses to the forma-
tion of two treaties—that with Great Britain and that with Spain—which
secure to them everything they could desire in respect to our foreign rela-
tions toward confirming their prosperity. Will it not be their wisdom to
rely for the preservation of these advantages on the union by which they
were procured? Will they not henceforth be deaf to those advisers, if such
there are, who would sever them from their brethren and connect them
with aliens?
To the efficacy and permanency of your union a government for the
whole is indispensable. No alliances, however strict, between the parts can
be an adequate substitute. They must inevitably experience the infractions
and interruptions which all alliances in all times have experienced. Sensible
of this momentous truth, you have improved upon your first essay by the
adoption of a Constitution of Government better calculated than your for-
mer for an intimate union and for the efficacious management of your com-
mon concerns. This Government, the offspring of our own choice,
uninfluenced and unawed, adopted upon full investigation and mature de-
liberation, completely free in its principles, in the distribution of its powers,
uniting security with energy, and containing within itself a provision for its
own amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and your support. Re-
spect for its authority, compliance with its laws, acquiescence in its mea-
sures, are duties enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true liberty. The
basis of our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter
their constitutions of government. But the constitution which at any time
exists till changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people is sa-
credly obligatory upon all. The very idea of the power and the right of the
people to establish government presupposes the duty of every individual to
obey the established government.
All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all combinations and associ-
ations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct,
control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the consti-
tuted authorities, are destructive of this fundamental principle and of fatal
tendency. They serve to organize faction; to give it an artificial and extraor-
dinary force; to put in the place of the delegated will of the nation the will of
a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community,
and, according to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make the
 FAREWELL ADDRESS TO CONGRESS 47

public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous pro-

jects of faction rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome plans, di-
gested by common counsels and modified by mutual interests.
However combinations or associations of the above description may now
and then answer popular ends, they are likely in the course of time and things
to become potent engines by which cunning ambitions, and unprincipled
men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people, and to usurp for
themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines
which have lifted them to unjust dominion.
Toward the preservation of your Government and the permanency of your
present happy state, it is requisite not only that you steadily discountenance
irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, but also that you resist
with care the spirit of innovation upon its principles, however specious the
pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect in the forms of the Consti-
tution alterations which will impair the energy of the system, and thus to un-
dermine what can not be directly overthrown. In all the changes to which you
may be invited remember that time and habit are at least as necessary to fix
the true character of governments as of other human institutions; that expe-
rience is the surest standard by which to test the real tendency of the existing
constitution of a country; that facility in changes upon the credit of mere hy-
pothesis and opinion exposes to perpetual change, from the endless variety of
hypothesis and opinion; and remember especially that for the efficient man-
agement of your common interests in a country so extensive as ours a gov-
ernment of as much vigor as is consistent with the perfect security of liberty
is indispensable. Liberty itself will find in such a government, with powers
properly distributed and adjusted, its surest guardian. It is, indeed, little else
than a name where the government is too feeble to withstand the enterprises
of faction, to confine each member of the society within the limits prescribed
by the laws, and to maintain all in the secure and tranquil enjoyment of the
rights of person and property.
I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the State, with par-
ticular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations.
Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most
solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party generally.
This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root
in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes
in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled, or repressed; but in those
of the popular form it is seen in its greatest rankness and is truly their worst
enemy.
The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the
spirit of revenge natural to party dissension, which in different ages and
48 GEORGE WASHINGTON

countries has perpetuated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful

despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despo-
tism. The disorders and miseries which result gradually incline the minds of
men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual, and
sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more for-
tunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own
elevation on the ruins of public liberty.
Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind (which nevertheless
ought not to be entirely out of sight), the common and continual mischiefs
of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise
people to discourage and restrain it.
It serves always to distract the public councils and enfeeble the public ad-
ministration. It agitates the community with ill-founded jealousies and false
alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another; foments occasion-
ally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corrup-
tion, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the
channels of party passion. Thus the policy and the will of one country are
subjected to the policy and will of another.
There is an opinion that parties in free countries are useful checks upon
the administration of the government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of
liberty. This within certain limits is probably true; and in governments of a
monarchical cast patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor,
upon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in govern-
ments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural
tendency it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salu-
tary purpose; and there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to
be by force of public opinion to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be
quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a
flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.

Notes

1. Harrison Clark. 1995. All Cloudless Glory. 2 vols. Washington: Regnery Publish-
ing. John Ferling. 1988. The First of Men. Knoxville: University of Tennessee
Press.
 PART 2.

The Place of Parties

in Healthy Political Systems
 CHAPTER 5

Remarks on Party*
Henry Peter, Lord Brougham
1839

Lord Brougham (1778–1868) dedicated his first 35 years in politics to the support of
Whig causes. He was one of the founding editors of the influential Edinburgh Review,
and he used this and other outlets to publish his prolific comments on topical politics.
Brougham was a lawyer and skilled orator whose political career advanced as a result of
his involvement in several highly visible trials, including the defense of Queen Caroline.
He sat in the House of Commons for almost 20 years before being elevated to the peer-
age in 1830. The occasion of his elevation was his appointment as chancellor (head of the
legal system) in the Whig government headed by the second Lord Grey. His outspoken
behavior in this office precipitated a breech with his fellow partisans, and he was not
reappointed to the cabinet when a new Whig government took office in 1835. Although
Brougham did not formally dissociate himself from the Whigs until 1849, even before
this he offered considerable support to Tory-led governments when the Whigs were out
of power. This disregard of the emerging norm of strict divisions into government and
opposition parties is displayed in the following excerpt, which comes from an essay which
Brougham appended to his volume of biographies of eighteenth-century politicians.1

A
nd here for a moment let us pause. We have been gazing on the faint
likenesses of many great men. We have been traversing a Gallery, on
either side of which they stand ranged. We have made bold in that
edifice to “expatiate and confer the State affairs” of their age. Cognizant of
its history, aware of the principles by which the English chiefs are marshalled,

* Henry Peter, Lord Brougham. 1839. Historical Sketches of Statesmen who Flourished in
the Time of George III., to which is added, Remarks on Party, and an Appendix. London: Charles
Knight and Company. Pp. 298–313.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
52 HENRY PETER , LORD BROUGHAM

sagacious of the springs that move the politic wheel whose revolutions we
contemplate, it is an easy thing for us to comprehend the phenomenon most
remarkably presented by those figures and their arrangement; nor are we led
to stare aghast at that which would astound any mind not previously fur-
nished with the ready solution to make all plain and intelligible. But suppose
some one from another hemisphere, or another world, admitted to the spec-
tacle which we find so familiar, and consider what would be its first effect
upon his mind.—“Here,” he would say, “stand the choicest spirits of their age;
the greatest wits, the noblest orators, the wisest politicians, the most illustri-
ous patriots. Here they stand, whose hands have been raised for their coun-
try, whose magical eloquence has shook the spheres, whose genius has poured
out strains worthy the inspiration of the gods, whose lives were devoted to
the purity of their principles, whose memories were bequeathed to a race
grateful for benefits received from their sufferings and their sacrifices. Here
stand all these ‘lights of the world and demigods of fame;’ but here they
stand not ranged on one side of this Gallery, having served a common coun-
try! With the same bright object in their view, their efforts were divided, not
united; they fiercely combated each other, and not together assailed some
common foe; their great exertions were bestowed, their more than mortal
forces were expended, not in furthering the general good, not in resisting
their country’s enemies, but in conflicts among themselves; and all their tri-
umphs were won over each other, and all their sufferings were endured at
each other’s hands!”—“Is it,” the unenlightened stranger would add, “a real-
ity that I survey, or a troubled vision that mocks my sight? Am I indeed con-
templating the prime of men amongst a rational people, or the Coryphei of
a band of mimes? Or, haply, am I admitted to survey the cells of some hos-
pital appointed for the insane; or is it, peradventure, the vaults of some pan-
demonium through which my eyes have been suffered to wander till my
vision aches, and my brain is disturbed?”
Thus far the untutored native of some far-distant wild on earth, or the yet
more ignorant inhabitant of some world, remote “beyond the solar walk or
Milky Way.” We know more; we apprehend things better. But let us, even in
our pride of enlightened wisdom, pause for a moment to reflect on this most
anomalous state of things,—this arrangement of political affairs which sys-
tematically excludes at least one-half of the great men of each age from their
country’s service, and devotes both classes infinitely more to maintaining a
conflict with one another than to furthering the general good. And here it
may be admitted at once that nothing can be less correct than their view, who
regard the administration of affairs as practically in the hands of only one-
half the nation, whilst the excluded portion is solely occupied in thwarting
their proceedings. The influence of both Parties is exerted, and the move-
 REMARKS ON PARTY 53

ment of the state machine partakes of both the forces impressed upon it; nei-
ther taking the direction of the one nor of the other, but a third line between
both. This concession, no doubt, greatly lessens the evil; but it is very far in-
deed from removing it. Why must there always be this exclusion, and this
conflict? Does not every one immediately perceive how it must prove detri-
mental to the public service in the great majority of instances; and how mis-
erable a make-shift for something better and more rational it is, even where
it does more good than harm? Besides, if it requires a constant and system-
atic opposition to prevent mischief, and keep the machine of state in the
right path, of what use is our boasted representative government, which is
designed to give the people a control over their rulers, and serves no other
purpose at all? Let us for a moment consider the origin of this system of
Party, that we may the better be able to appreciate its value and to compre-
hend its manner of working.
The Origin of Party may be traced by fond theorists and sanguine votaries
of the system, to a radical difference of opinion and principle; to the “idem sen-
tire de republica”2 which has at all times marshalled men in combinations or split
them in oppositions; but it is pretty plain to any person of ordinary under-
standing that a far less romantic ground of union and of separation has for the
most part existed—the individual interests of the parties; the idem velle atque
idem noll;3 the desire of power and of plunder, which, as all cannot share, each
is desirous of snatching and holding. The history of English party is as cer-
tainly that of a few great men and powerful families on the one hand, con-
tending for place and power, with a few others on the opposite quarter, as it
is the history of the Plantagenets, the Tudors and the Stuarts. There is noth-
ing more untrue than to represent principle as at the bottom of it; interest is
at the bottom, and the opposition of principle is subservient to the opposi-
tion of interest. Accordingly, the result has been, that unless perhaps where a
dynasty was changed, as in 1688, and for some time afterwards, and excepting
on questions connected with this change, the very same conduct was held and
the same principles professed by both Parties when in office and by both
when in opposition. Of this we have seen sufficiently remarkable instances in
the course of the foregoing pages. The Whig in opposition was for retrench-
ment and for peace; transplant him into office, he cared little for either. Bills
of coercion, suspensions of the constitution, were his abhorrence when pro-
pounded by Tories; in place, he propounded them himself. Acts of indemnity
and of attainder were the favourites of the Tory in power; the Tory in oppo-
sition was the enemy of both. The gravest charge ever brought by the Whig
against his adversary was the personal proscription of an exalted individual to
please a King; the worst charge that the Tory can level against the Whig is the
support of a proscription still less justifiable to please a Viceroy.
54 HENRY PETER , LORD BROUGHAM

It cannot surely in these circumstances be deemed extraordinary that

plain men, uninitiated in the Aristocratic Mysteries whereof a rigid devotion
to Party forms one of the most sacred, should be apt to see a very different
connexion between principle and faction from the one usually put forward;
and that without at all denying a relation between the two things, they
should reverse the account generally given by Party men, and suspect them
of taking up principles in order to marshal themselves in alliances and hos-
tilities for their own interests, instead of engaging in those contests because
of their conflicting principles. In a word, there seems some reason to sup-
pose that interest having really divided them into bands, principles are pro-
fessed for the purpose of better compassing their objects by maintaining a
character and gaining the support of the people.
That to a certain degree this is true, we think can hardly be doubted, al-
though it is also impossible to deny that there is a plain line of distinction be-
tween the two great Parties which formerly prevailed in this country upon
one important point, the foundations and extent of the Royal Prerogative.
But that this line can now be traced it would be absurd to pretend. Mr. Pitt,
and even Lord North, had no other opinions respecting kingly power than
Mr. Fox or Mr. Burke; and the rival theories of Sir Robert Filmer and Mr.
Locke were as obsolete during the American war as they are at this day. Then
have not men, since Jacobitism and Divine Right were exploded, generally
adopted opinions upon the practical questions of the day in such a manner
as to let them conveniently co-operate with certain acts of statesmen and
oppose others; join some family interests together in order to counterbal-
ance some other family interests; league themselves in bodies to keep or to
get power in opposition to other bands formed with a similar view? This
surely will not, upon a calm review of facts, be denied by any one whose judg-
ment is worth having.
Observe how plainly the course pursued by one class dictates that to be
taken by the other. There must be combinations, and there must be opposi-
tions; and therefore things to differ upon, as well things to agree upon, must
needs be found.

[Brougham gives some examples from English political history to show the feeble basis of
most party divisions.]

The blame now cast upon politicians affects them all equally; and is only like
that which ethical reasoners on the selfish theory of morals may be supposed
to throw upon all human conduct. In fact that blame applies not to individ-
uals, but to the system; and that system is proved to be bad;—hurtful to the
interests of the country, corrupting to the people, injurious to honest princi-
 REMARKS ON PARTY 55

ple, and at the very best a clumsy contrivance for carrying on the affairs of
the State.
It is partly the result of our monarchial constitution, in which the prince
must rule by influence rather than prerogative; but it is much more to be de-
rived from the aristocratical portion of the constitution. The great families
in their struggles with each other and against the Crown, have recourse to
Party leagues, and the people are from time to time drawn into the conflict.
The evils which flow from this manner of conducting public affairs are man-
ifest. The two greatest unquestionably are, first, the loss of so many able men
to the service of the country as well as the devotion of almost the whole pow-
ers of all leading men to party contests and the devotion of a portion of those
men to obstructing the public service instead of helping it; and next, the
sport which, in playing the party game, is made of the most sacred principles,
the duping of the people, and the assumption of their aristocratic leaders to
dictate their opinions to them. It is a sorry account of any political machine
that it is so constructed, as only to be kept in order by the loss of power and
the conflict of forces which the first of these faults implies. It is a clumsy and
unwieldy movement which can only be effected by the combined operation
of jarring principles, which the panegyrists or rather apologists of these
anomalies have commended. But it is a radical vice in any system to exclude
the people from forming their own opinions, which must, if proceeding from
their own impulses, be kept in strict accordance with their interests, that is
with the general good; and it is a flaw if possible still more disastrous, to ren-
der the people only tools and instruments of an oligarchy, instead of making
their power the main spring of the whole engine, and their interest the grand
object of all its operations.
Of this we may be well assured, that as Party has hitherto been known
amongst us, it can only be borne during the earlier stages of a nation’s polit-
ical growth. While the people are ignorant of their interests, and as little ac-
quainted with their rights as with their duties, they may be treated by the
leading factions as they have hitherto been treated by our own. God be
praised, they are not now what they were in the palmy days of factious aris-
tocracy, of the Walpoles, and the Foxes, and the Pelhams—never consulted,
and never thought of unless when it was desirable that one mob should bawl
out “Church and King,” and another should echo back “Not Pope, and no
Pretender.” They have even made great advances since the close of the
American war, and the earlier periods of the French Revolution, when,
through fear of the Catholics, the library of Lord Mansfield, and through ha-
tred of the Dissenters, the apparatus of Dr. Priestley, were committed to the
flames. Their progress is now rapid, and their success assured in the attain-
ment of all that can qualify them for self-government, emancipate them
56 HENRY PETER , LORD BROUGHAM

from pupilage, and entitle them to undertake the management of their own
affairs. Nor will they any more suffer leading men to make up their opinions
for them, as doctors do the prescriptions which they are to take, or consent
to be the tools and the dupes of party any more.

Notes

1. Leslie Stephen and Sidney Lee. [1885] 1949. Dictionary of National Biography.
Vol. 2. Reprint, London: Geoffrey Cumberlege. Pp. 1356–1366.
2. [“shared feeling about the republic”]
3. [“to want the same thing and to not want the same thing”]
 CHAPTER 6

Parties—the Office
they Fulfill in a Republic*
Frederick Grimke
1848

Frederick Grimke (1791–1863) was born in South Carolina and educated at Yale Uni-
versity. He spent most of his professional career in Ohio working first as a lawyer, and
later as a judge. Among his thirteen siblings were Sarah and Angelina Grimké, noted
abolitionists. (The family was divided on many issues, including the proper spelling of
the surname.) This chapter comes from a book which Grimke published after his retire-
ment from the Ohio Supreme Court. In this book, Grimke’s pragmatic consideration of
the advantages and shortcomings of American political institutions (including his defense
of slavery) is marked by his conviction that “the great problem in political science is to
procure the greatest amount of liberty, consistent with the greatest degree of public tran-
quility.” This book was not widely read at the time, nor can it be said to have exercised a
marked influence on later authors; nevertheless, it is a notable example of a mid-century
American consideration of parties that presents them as more than just a necessary evil.1

M
any persons of great intelligence, and who are inclined to look
with a favorable eye upon the progress which society is every
where making, when they behold the scene of strife and con-
tention which parties in a republic give rise to, recoil from it with dismay, and
are instantly disposed to take refuge in what they denominate strong gov-
ernment. Nevertheless, it is most certain, that the distinguishing excellence
of free institutions consists in their giving birth to popular parties, and that

* Frederick Grimke. 1848. Considerations upon the Nature and Tendency of Free Institutions.
Cincinnati: H. W. Derby & Co. Pp. 92-107.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
58 FREDERICK GRIMKE

the annoyance and inconvenience which these occasion to individuals, both

in public and private life, are productive of incalculable advantage. It is a
great mistake, with our knowledge of the constitution of human nature, to
suppose that society would be better ordered if its surface were a perfect
calm. The democratic principle has come into the world not to bring peace,
but a sword; or rather to bring peace by a sword. One may easily conceive of
an individual, that his various faculties may be so evenly balanced as to give
rise to the justest and the most consistent scheme of conduct. And one may
liken the state to some huge individual, and say that the rival views and opin-
ions of different parties conspire to the same end; that when these are free
to give utterance to their sentiments, a similar equipoise takes place among
all parts of society, and that something like a regular system takes place in the
conduct of public affairs.
The human mind, with all its capabilities of thought and action, is won-
derfully disposed to listlessness; so that it requires the most powerful in-
centives in order to rouse its dormant energies. And the condition of the
great majority of mankind is such, that none but those sensible interests
which touch them on every side can be relied upon as the instrument of
moving them. By giving a full play, and a favorable direction to these, we
succeed in imparting activity to the disposition. And this being attained, a
great amount of thought and reflection is sure to be developed among the
great bulk of the population. Party spirit at bottom is but the conflict of dif-
ferent opinions, to each of which some portion of truth almost invariably
adheres: and what has ever been the effect of this mutual action of mind
upon mind, but to sharpen men’s wits, to extend the circle of their knowl-
edge, and to raise the general mind above its former level. Therefore it is,
that an era of party spirit, whether religious, philosophical, or political, has
always been one of intellectual advancement. A powerful understanding
may be sufficiently stimulated by the study and investigation of abstract
truth: but the diffusion of knowledge in the concrete seems to be indis-
pensably necessary to produce this effect among the great majority of
mankind.
The existence of parties in a republic, even noisy and clamorous parties, is
not therefore a circumstance which should be regarded as inimical to the
peace and welfare of the state. It should rather be received as a special and
extraordinary provision, for furthering the interests and advancing the intel-
ligence of the most numerous class of society. By creating an arena on which
all men may be active and useful, we are certain of attracting an incalculably
greater number to the pursuit of industry and knowledge than would be pos-
sible under any other state of things. The growth of popular parties con-
stantly keeps pace with the diffusion of industry and property. The diffusion
 PARTIES—THE OFFICE THEY FULFILL IN A REPUBLIC 59

of industry and property, by exercising the mind intently upon small things
at first, exercise it earnestly and seriously upon important ones in the end.
The true theory of popular parties then consists in multiplying the em-
ployments of private individuals,—in increasing the active industry of the
whole community. The regular deportment and habits of reflection which
these produce counteract the vicious tendencies of the system, and operate
as a safeguard against the extreme excesses and the violent revolutions which
occur in other countries. As the interests of private persons under this sys-
tem become more and more identified with those of the state, each one has
a desire and a motive for understanding and taking part in public affairs. The
question in human affairs is never whether any particular arrangement shuts
out all mischief and inconvenience, but only whether it excludes the greatest
practicable amount, and not of one kind merely, but of all kinds. Thus al-
though, in a democratic republic, a vastly greater number of people take part
in politics than under any other form of government, the minds of a vastly
greater number are exercised by some healthful and useful occupation, which
not only inspires sagacity and energy, but communicates a character of seri-
ousness and reflection to the whole population. The weak side of human na-
ture is thus constantly propped up and strengthened. The bickerings and
animosities of parties are not extinguished; but there is, notwithstanding, a
greater degree of public tranquility than would otherwise exist.
Popular parties are not only the natural result of elective government, but
what is of much more consequence, they are absolutely necessary to uphold
and preserve it. It is too common to regard certain arrangements of society
as a sort of necessary evils; and thus very imperfectly to comprehend their
true design, and the important agency which they have in securing the pub-
lic welfare.
As the political institutions in a republic are of a totally different charac-
ter from what they are in monarchical or aristocratical government, there is
a corresponding difference in the machinery which sets each of them re-
spectively in motion. In the artificial forms of government, a system of
checks and balances is devised, to secure the influence of the public author-
ity, and to maintain each department in its proper place; but such an expe-
dient would be futile and powerless where government means vastly more
than the rule of the persons who fill the various public offices. In a repub-
lic a substantive part of the political authority is designedly communicated
to the whole population. We want something more, therefore, than a
scheme of checks and balances within the government. As the forces which
are set in motion are so much more extensive, we must contrive some ma-
chinery equally extensive, for the purpose of controlling them. And thus
popular parties very naturally, not to say necessarily, take the place of that
60 FREDERICK GRIMKE

curious system of checks and balances which are well enough adapted to a
close aristocracy, or pure monarchy, but which play only a subordinate part
in representative government.
In a despotism parties have no existence. Factions there may be, but not
parties. In all the other artificial forms of government, the constitution of
parties is more or less imperfect, because they are overborne by an extrane-
ous influence which disables them from faithfully representing opinions. In
a democratic republic, the people themselves compose all the existing par-
ties. Hence opinions are not only submitted to examination, but they are
submitted to the examination of those who are immediately affected by
them. But the greater the number of persons who are consulted with regard
to any measure which has an important bearing upon their interests, the
greater is the probability that it will be adjusted with a view to their common
welfare. The process may be tedious and circuitous, but this is an advantage,
since it will cause a greater amount of reflection to be employed. Moreover,
when opinions have to pass through a great number of minds, before they are
reduced to practice, society does not experience a violent shock, as it does
upon their sudden and unpremeditated adoption. Factions stir the passions
of men, but parties introduce the conflict of opinions.
It would appear, then, that the wider the arena on which parties move, the
more numerous the persons who compose them, the less dangerous are they
to the state; which is the reverse of the conclusion to which the great major-
ity of men are inclined to lean.
The absence of parties in a country of free institutions, would imply the ex-
istence of unanimity on all occasions. But in the imperfect condition of man,
unanimity would not [be] desirable. As in the individual, one faculty is set over
against another, in order to elicit the greatest amount of judgment, wisdom,
and experience; so the mutual encounter of rival opinions, in different sections
of society, constitutes a discipline of the same character, on a much larger scale.
Unanimity, which has the appearance of being the only rightful rule, would, if
it were conceivable, render society absolutely stationary. Man is not born with
knowledge; and all the useful or noble qualities which he ever exerts are the
offspring of variety, not of uniformity. Constituted as human nature is, there
would be no virtue without some conflict of interests, and no wisdom without
some conflict of opinions.
And this supposes a very important fact in the history of society; that al-
though the majority rule, the minority, by virtue of the naked power which
belongs to opinions, are able to exert an indirect, and yet very decisive, in-
fluence upon the course of public affairs. This influence is so great, that no
one who has been accustomed to examine the workings of society in differ-
ent countries can fail to have been struck with the repeated instances in
 PARTIES—THE OFFICE THEY FULFILL IN A REPUBLIC 61

which the opinions of a minority have triumphed over those of the majority,
so as ultimately to become the settled and established opinions, and to trans-
form the minority into the majority. And this, notwithstanding the civil in-
stitutions may not have been very favorable to the rise and growth of parties.

[Grimke lists several public controversies in Great Britain and the United States “in which the
opinions of a party greatly in the minority have finally prevailed.”]

It is curious to notice the manner in which parties deal with each other, and
to watch the process by which opinions are communicated from one to the
other. For parties would be without meaning and without utility, if they were
eternally to battle with each other with no other result than the alternate loss
and acquisition of power. The desire to obtain the ascendancy may be the
moving spring which actuates each; but fortunately this spring cannot be set
in motion in a country of free institutions, without rousing a prodigious
amount of reflection among a very large portion of the population. Doubt-
less the true use of parties is very far from being to administer provocatives
to demagogues to gratify their private ambition. Their selfish views may be
necessary in order to animate them in the pursuit of certain opinions. But
the moment these opinions are promulgated they are subjected to a search-
ing examination in all parts of society, because they are felt to have a practi-
cal bearing upon the substantial interests of all. The true office of parties
then is to elicit and make manifest the amount of truth which belongs to the
tenets of each; so that the great body of the people, who belong to no party
save the party of their country, may be both easily and understandingly
guided in the path they pursue.
In the progress of the struggle which takes place between parties, they
will often be very equally balanced, and each will, for a time, alternately ac-
quire the ascendancy. The first time that the party which before had been
habitually in the minority attains a decided preponderance, is felt as a
presage of permanent success. The new opinions are then deemed to be
practicable. Old associations are broken, and a new impulse is given to the
new party. The party which had been accustomed to carry every thing, falls
back into the minority; and this example of the instability of power sets
every one a thinking, and even amid the strife of politics, produces more
prudence and moderation. The party in the minority, and now discarded
from power, is at first disposed to cling to its most extreme opinions. Its
pride has been wounded, and its ambition disappointed. It has no idea of
turning any set of opinions upon compulsion. But a popular party contains
a vast number of individuals whose temperaments, modes of thinking, and
opportunities of information, are often exceedingly different, and whom it
62 FREDERICK GRIMKE

is impossible to fashion as you would a close body into one unalterable

form. Reflection sooner or later takes the place of passion. And as the at-
tachment of individuals to their own independent opinions is often much
stronger than to the opinions of a party, every assurance is afforded that the
new and enlightened opinions which have been introduced into the public
administration will not only be the rule for the party in power, but that they
will spread their influence more or less over the men of all parties. Every
one soon sees that there is really no such thing as compulsion in represen-
tative government; and that if a system of policy has fairly won over a ma-
jority of the suffrages of twenty millions of people, a very considerable
portion of truth, to say the least, must belong to that system. They recollect
that as no one man can represent the whole of humanity, so no one party can
represent the whole truth in politics. Thus the minds of many, who were
most obstinately set in the opposite direction, are gradually opened to the
reception of new opinions. They begin to declare, for the first time, that
some very important changes were necessary to secure the well being of the
state. Great numbers openly go over to the opposite party; some from set-
tled conviction, others from a sort of instinctive feeling that all was not
right before. This gives additional strength to the majority, which, when it
does not advance merely novel opinions, but appeals to truth and to the
judgment of mankind, is sure to retain the supremacy for a considerable pe-
riod. Every thing then becomes fixed and settled.
But this very fixation of every thing, so delightful to those who have been
tormented by anxiety, and tossed by contrary hopes and fears, is not to last
forever. This state of repose is often as fatal to the maintenance of free in-
stitutions, as the ill-regulated ambition of parties. Prosperity corrupts par-
ties, as well as individuals. The long enjoyment of power persuades those
who have possessed it, that it can never be wrested from them. Abuses,
though not perhaps of the same kind, break out again. These abuses gain
strength gradually. They are fortified by the prejudices which the prescrip-
tion of time creates, as well as by the self interest and cupidity of the leaders
of party. Any attempt to root them up, is regarded as before as an attempt to
change fundamental usages, and to tamper with the vital interests of the
community. Then commences a new struggle, very much resembling the for-
mer; the same circle of opinions will be described as in the former revolution.
Every thing will again be set right, without shedding one drop of blood, with-
out the employment of any other instrumentality than the simple dropping
of the ballot. But it may happen that the new opinions which now spring up
will not be entitled to as entire confidence as in the former revolution. In the
progress of the controversy, each party will cause some portion of its own
opinions to be adopted. The issue will not be so decisive. A new party, or
 PARTIES—THE OFFICE THEY FULFILL IN A REPUBLIC 63

probably an old party, with views greatly modified, will succeed to power, and
will preside for another term of years. It is in this way, that all parties find
themselves, somehow or other, represented in the state—some virtually, oth-
ers potentially; and although the government is frequently exposed to the
most formidable power by which it can be assailed, that power is exercised
so steadily, and yet so silently, as to overturn nothing, and yet to revolution-
ize every thing.

[Grimke reflects on how personal rivalries contribute to the oscillations of party fortunes.]

Through the instrumentality of the causes at which I have merely glanced, in

order to set the reader a thinking, knowledge has been diffused, and power
and influence, in both public and private life, have been more evenly bal-
anced in every township and county of an extensive country. These views
contribute to explain a remarkable fact in the history of parties in America.
Taking any considerable series of years, it is surprising to find how often par-
ties have been very equally balanced. The see-saw politics of some of the
states seems even to be a reproach to them. But beneath this outside ap-
pearance there is always something to ponder upon. For if, on whichever side
the scale of power inclines, the equilibrium of influence in every village and
neighborhood is disturbed, the only way to restore it is by throwing more
weight into the opposite scale, and thus the oscillations of parties may be al-
most as frequent as the annual elections. As soon as one party obtains a de-
cided predominance, new rivalships grow up. A multitude of passions and
desires (independent of the political controversies of the day) are set in mo-
tion, for the purpose of displacing it, or diminishing its authority.
Hence another apparently singular phenomenon, that individuals of the
most opposite political predilections, and of the greatest difference in
point of character and mind, are habitually ranged in the same party. It
would be deplorable if it were not so. And although one party is sometimes
foolish enough to arrogate to itself all the virtue and talents in the com-
munity, yet there is, in truth, a very equal distribution of both among the
men of all parties.
Another and equally curious fact may be noticed, that parties often seem
to exhibit a mere struggle between the ins and outs. But if the power which
is brought to bear upon political affairs is adjusted and regulated by the
power and influence which are distributed in private life, and if this affects
human happiness more than all other causes put to together, the struggle
may conduct to very important ends. I have already said that in a republic
parties take the place of the old system of balances and checks. The latter
balance the government only, the former balance society itself.
64 FREDERICK GRIMKE

Frequent changes of the public officers are a consequence of these vicissi-

tudes among parties. But it is of the greatest importance, in a country where
the electoral franchise is extensively enjoyed, that as large a number of the
citizens as practicable should be initiated into the mode of conducting pub-
lic affairs, and there is no way by which this can be so well effected as by a ro-
tation in office; and the direction which party disputes take affords the
opportunity of doing it. If it were not for this, public employments would be
continued in the same individuals for life, and after their death would be
perpetuated in their families. But public office, of even an inferior grade, is
a species of discipline of no unimportant character. It extends the views of
men, trains them to the performance of justice, and makes them act for oth-
ers as well as for themselves. It thus binds together the parts of society by the
firmest of all bonds, and makes it tend constantly to a state of order and
tranquility, in the midst of the greatest apparent disorder. If men were less
quarrelsome; if an easy good nature was all that moved them, they would not
be inclined to change their public officers as often as the interests of society
demands. The detriment which would follow would be much greater than
any which their quarrels produce.
It has been supposed, that where these changes are frequent, the persons
elected must, for the most part, be inexperienced and incompetent. The fear
lest this should be the case is wisely implanted in our nature. It holds us back
when we are about to run into an extreme. The feeling is as much a part of
our constitution as any of its other tendencies, and must be strictly taken
into account in every calculation which we make as to the general working of
the system. But public office itself creates, to a great extent, the very ability
which is required for the performance of its duties. And it is not at all un-
common, when individuals have been snatched up from the walks of private
life to fill responsible stations, to find that the affairs of society are con-
ducted pretty much upon the same principles, and with as much skill and in-
telligence, as before. Habits of order and method are soon imparted to the
incumbent, and they constitute the moving spring of all effective exertion,
either mental or physical.
In a republic, the rise and fall of parties are not merely revolutions in pub-
lic life, they are revolutions in private life also. They displace some men from
office, but they alter the relative position of a much greater number in pri-
vate life. Political controversies afford an opportunity for parties to develop
themselves: and these controversies do very often present a legitimate field
for discussion. But they do not contain every thing; they do not express the
whole meaning of parties. A given scheme of public policy may affect very re-
motely the substantial interests of the population; but the jostling of men in
private life is a perpetual source of uneasiness and discontent, and they seek
 PARTIES—THE OFFICE THEY FULFILL IN A REPUBLIC 65

to relieve themselves by an alliance with party, because, as individuals, they

are powerless, while party associations are strong. The views and actions of
men may be the most narrow and selfish imaginable, and yet, they may ter-
minate in consequences of the most beneficial character. The prominent
men of each party exert themselves to carry extreme measures; a great mul-
titude of private individuals intend to acquire some advantage unseen, but
not unfelt, over their neighbors. The fall of a party at such a time, like a sud-
den stroke of adversity, quells the pride of the politician, and inculcates pru-
dence, caution, and forbearance, in private behavior.
The reason why the workings of party are so much more ramified and ex-
tensive in a republic, than in any other form of government, is easily ex-
plained. In monarchy and aristocracy, the bulk of the people are spectators,
not actors; and the operation of parties is necessarily confined within a nar-
row circle. But free institutions presuppose that the mass of the people are
active, not passive, citizens, and parties not only regulate the conduct of the
handful of men who preside over public affairs; they regulate also the con-
duct of the millions who, although out of the government, yet constitute the
springs which set the government in motion. If this were not the case, if
there were no regulative principle to shake society, as well as to act upon the
government, there would be no way of maintaining free institutions. Men
who hold office may be punished for misconduct; but how is it possible by
legal enactments to punish whole parties. When, however, a party is tumbled
from power, the individuals composing it lose caste—lose some portion of
that consideration which before attached to them. If this produces more
boldness and recklessness in some, it promotes more reflection and pru-
dence in others.

Notes

1. John William Ward. 1968. “Introduction.” In Frederick Grimke, The Nature

and Tendency of Free Institutions. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Pp. 1–39.
 CHAPTER 7

The Party Organism*

Gustav Struve
1848

Gustav (von) Struve (1805–1870) was a radical democrat who dropped the aristocratic
“von” from his surname once he became active in politics. This was only one of the many
ways in which Struve let his actions be shaped by his convictions—precisely the pre-
scription he gives to party leaders in this article. Struve began his career as a judge and
then became a public attorney, but by the mid-1840s he was devoting most of his energy
to publishing. He became a newspaper editor and wrote political pamphlets, including
several that earned him short jail sentences. He later took an active role in the revolu-
tionary events of 1848, first as a public speaker, then as leader of a small popular army
that unsuccessfully sought to overthrow Baden’s monarchy. After the revolution collapsed
Struve went into exile in the United States, where he continued working as a writer and
editor. He supported Lincoln in the election of 1860, and when the Civil War broke out
the 56-year-old Struve served for a year in a regiment of German volunteers, still putting
his principles into practice. The following excerpt is included in part because its equation
of party battles with real military skirmishes is an extreme expression of an analogy that
was often invoked in the nineteenth century to describe party competition.1

T
he relation between the party organism and associational life is like
that between war and peace. Parties presume a battle, a contest of
perspectives, wishes and interests, whereas simple associations can
live quite well in peace, without being attacked by anyone. As a result peace-
ful, soft, souls—and even those without much decisiveness, determination,
or boldness—can be of great service in an association. In contrast, in a party,

*Gustav Struve. 1848. Grundzüge der Staatswissenschaft. Vol. 3 Frankfurt am Main: Lit-
erarische Anstalt. Pp. 216-219, 238-240.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
68 GUSTAV STRUVE

as in war, it is only decisive, determined, and bold people who will accom-
plish anything worthwhile. It is therefore necessary that a party should be or-
ganized in a warlike manner and should be guided by the thought of winning
an advantage over its opponent. A party will no longer be able to realize its
aims when it lacks such an organization, when it does not completely devote
itself to winning the battle, when it is not continually active. Thus whoever
declares that he belongs to his party, but makes it clear that he lives a com-
pletely peaceful life, that he is not pursuing any goals that are attacked by op-
ponents, or that he can’t think of any better strategy than to turn his back to
receive the blows of the opponents who attack him—this sort of person is as
little able to accomplish anything within a party as can a sheep in a war. At
most the carnivore (meat-eater) can make use of him by slaughtering him.
Given the great power that inertia exerts everywhere, the talent of grabbing
the attention of the masses is one of the most prominent characteristics of a
party leader. In the great search for a new leader, which is all too common
nowadays, this talent rests primarily on the fiction of pursuing identical goals
in new and changing ways. A general will only win great victories if, because
of his precise knowledge of all military details, he is able to comprehend the
whole situation and easily and freely set things into motion. Likewise, a party
leader will only accomplish much if he has a precise knowledge about parties’
goals and about their means of attack and defense, if he has an overview of
the whole situation and is in a position to exercise a decisive influence on it.
Given that the associational life of Europe’s people is poorly organized
and in poor condition, this is naturally even more true of party life. Because
it is only in peace that one gathers up the energy for war, and it is only asso-
ciational life that can serve as a school for party life. Nevertheless, the party
life of Europe’s people, just like their associational life, has made great
progress in the course of the last three decades. Whether or not they were
aware of it, the war that their princes made against the people throughout
this period pushed them towards a kind of party life, albeit a poorly orga-
nized one. Parties appear openly wherever they are officially tolerated. There
they fight openly, and otherwise, in secret, to realize their aim of changing
circumstances, of overthrowing existing ministries or forms of government.
Where governments are inextricably linked with existing forms of govern-
ment, the party battle against both must naturally be inextricably linked. In
contrast, where it is possible to separate the two, it is only necessary to direct
the fight at the ministers. When these are toppled, then the battle can be
broadened if circumstances warrant.
A party battle is different than a party quarrel, and a battle of words is dif-
ferent from a battle of deeds. Unfortunately, far too many of our esteemed
party men believed themselves to be accomplishing something great when
 THE PARTY ORGANISM 69

they give a big speech. However, wherever the speech is not accompanied by
the deed it is not a party battle, merely a party quarrel. Whoever is not pre-
pared to give force to deeds is only a “word hero,” but is not a party man.

[In the omitted section Struve criticizes existing German parties because they are not prepared
to do enough on behalf of the welfare of the entire German Fatherland. Struve says that it is for
this reason that he does not belong to any of the existing parties, even though he thinks that it is
proper for citizens to engage in party battles.]

You can hear the most famous legislative representatives, and the town rep-
resentatives who are held to be most radical, say that they think they have
done their duty when they have delivered a speech in the assembly chamber
or town hall. Few of them think about the fact that their speeches are noth-
ing more than the end of the parade as long as they are not based on their
natural foundations, in other words, on the willingness of those who em-
powered them to back their trustee and his words with property and blood.
If an elected official does not know how to make a connection between his
words and the power and the willingness to sacrifice of those who selected
him, he is just a deputy on parade, empowered to do nothing more than
speak. In contrast to this is the elected official who understands how to draw
the whole host of his voters into the ranks of the fighters, who knows how to
throw the entire weight of his intellectual and physical power onto the scales
of political life—he is fighting a real battle, whereas the empowered speaker,
the deputy on parade, only fights a sham battle, a battle which those who
hold power will pay no more attention than they do to the voice of the press,
or to motions and complaints, in other words, will pay no more attention to
it than their mood or their established plans make advisable.
When a majority of the second chamber does not know how to realize its
articulated wishes and goals, all that exists is a sham opposition, a sham bat-
tle, which is based on a sham party life.
The essence of a party consists of united battles of deeds in which words,
speeches, merely stand on the sidelines as supporting tools.

Notes

1. Rochus von Liliencron. 1893. Allgemeine deutsche Biographie. Vol. 36. Leipzig:
Duncker and Humblot. Pp. 681–687.
 CHAPTER 8

Elements of Society in France*

François Guizot
1849

François Guizot (1787–1874) was an academic historian who later became a prominent
French politician. In both capacities he was a strong proponent of constitutional monar-
chy. He was a minister through much of the July Monarchy (1830–1848) and held the
leading position in the government from 1840 until the 1848 revolution that overthrew
the regime. Guizot wrote the pamphlet from which this selection is taken in 1849 when
he was in exile in London; he published a French version of the essay at the same time.
In what follows Guizot portrays parties as a natural part of political life, and as a re-
flection of society. Although he accepts that politics will always be founded on a conflict
of interests, he does not endorse the notion that all elements of society or all parties should
be directly involved in the political process, nor does he revise the views that had earlier
led him to oppose a broad expansion of the franchise.1

n a free country, or in one struggling to become free, the elements of po-

I litical society are political parties, in the widest and highest acceptation of
the term.
Legally, there are now no other parties in France than those inherent in
every constitutional state; the party of the Government and that of the Op-
position. There are neither Legitimists nor Orleanists. The Republic exists,
and will not suffer the principle of its existence to be attacked; and as this is
the indisputable right of every established government, it is by no means my
intention to contest or to infringe it.

*François Guizot. 1849. Democracy in France. 5th ed. London: John Murray. Pp. 48–55.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
72 FRANÇOIS GUIZOT

But there are things so inherent in society, that prohibitive laws, even
when obeyed, fail to eradicate them. There are political parties of which the
germ lies so deeply buried, and the roots so widely spread, that they do not
die, even when they are no longer apparent.
The Legitimist party is not a mere dynastic, nor is it a mere monarchical,
party. It is indeed attached to a principle and to a name; but it also occupies
a great substantive place both in the history and on the soil of France. It rep-
resents all that remains of the elements so long predominant throughout
that French society which contained within itself the fruitful and vigorous
germs of progress; and out of which arose, after a growth of ages, the France
which suddenly burst forth in 1789, mighty, aspiring, and glorious. Though
the French Revolution overthrew the ancient fabric of French society, it
could not annihilate its elements. In spite of the convulsions by which they
were dispersed, and in the midst of the ruins by which they are surrounded,
these still subsist, and are still considerable in modern France. At every suc-
ceeding crisis they evidently acquiesce more completely in the social order
and political constitution which the country has adopted; and by this acqui-
escence they take their station in it, and change their position without dis-
owning their character.
Moreover, does anybody believe that the party which endeavored to found
a constitutional monarchy in 1830, and which upheld that monarchy for
more than seventeen years, has vanished in the tempest that overthrew the
edifice it had raised? It has been called the party of the bourgeoisie,—the mid-
dle classes; and this in fact it was, and still is. The ascendancy of the middle
classes in France, incessantly supplied by recruits from the bulk of the pop-
ulation, is the characteristic feature in our history since 1789. Not only have
they conquered that ascendancy, but they have justified their claims to it.
Amidst the grievous errors into which they have fallen, and for which they
have paid so dearly, they have shown that they really possessed the qualities
that constitute the strength and greatness of a nation. On all emergencies,
for all the wants of the country in war or peace, and to every kind of social
career, this class has abundantly furnished men, nay, generations of men,
able, active, and sincerely devoted to the service of their country. When
called on in 1830 to found a new monarchy, the middle classes brought to
that difficult task a spirit of justice and political sincerity of which no suc-
ceeding event can cancel the merit. In spite of all the passions and all the per-
ils that assailed them, they earnestly desired constitutional order, and they
faithfully observed it. At home, they respected and maintained universal,
legal and practical liberty; abroad, universal, firm and prosperous peace.
I am not one of those who disregard or despise the power of the affections
in political affairs. I do not regard it as any proof of greatness or strength of
 ELEMENTS OF SOCIETY IN FRANCE 73

mind to say, “We don’t care for such or such a family; we attach no value to
proper names; we take men or leave them according to our wants or our in-
terests:” to me, this language, and the class of opinions which it discloses, ap-
pear to betray far more political ignorance and impotence than elevation of
mind or rectitude of judgment. It is, however, indisputable that political par-
ties having no other attachment than that excited by proper names, and no
other strength than that derived from personal affections, would be ex-
tremely feeble and inefficient. But can anybody for a moment imagine that
the Legitimist party, or the party attached to the monarchy of 1830, are of
that nature? Is it not evident, on the contrary, that these parties are far more
the offspring of the general course of events than of attachment to persons?
that they are of a social, as well as a political nature, and correspond to the
most deep-rooted and indestructible elements of society in France?
Around these great parties floats the mass of the population; holding to
the one or the other by its interests, its habits, or its virtuous and rational
instincts; but without any strong or solid adhesion, and incessantly assailed
and worked upon by Socialists and Communists of every shade. These last
do not constitute political parties, for they do not espouse any political
principle, nor advocate any peculiar political organization. Their only en-
deavour is to destroy all the influences, and to break all the ties, material or
moral, which bind the part of the population living by the labour of its
hands, to the class occupied in the business of the state; to divide that part
of the population from the landowner, the capitalist, the clergy, and all the
other established authorities; and finally to work upon it through its mis-
eries, and rule it by its appetites. One name denotes them all: all are mem-
bers of the one great Anarchical Party. It is not the superiority of this or
that form of government which they preach to the people—it is sheer and
absolute anarchy; for one kind of government is as incompatible with chaos
as another. There is, however, one striking fact: whether sincere or de-
praved, blind Utopians or designing Anarchists, all these disturbers of so-
cial order are Republicans. Not that they are more attached or submissive
to republican government than to any other; for every regular and efficient
government, whether republican or monarchical, is equally odious to them;
but they hope that under a republic they shall find stronger weapons to aid
their attacks, and feebler barriers to resist them. This is the secret of their
preference.
I have surveyed French society on every side. I have sought out and ex-
hibited all its real and essential elements, and all my inquiries lead to the
same result. On every side, whether in political or civil life, I meet with pro-
found diversities and inequalities which can neither be obliterated in civil
life by unity of laws and equality of rights, nor in political life by a republican
74 FRANÇOIS GUIZOT

government; and which endure or revive under legislation of every kind and
government of every form.
This is not an opinion, an argument, or a conjecture, but a statement of
facts.
Now what is the import and tendency of these facts? Shall we find in them
the ancient classifications of society? Will the ancient political denomina-
tions apply to them? Do they exhibit an aristocracy opposed to a democracy;
or a nobility, a bourgeoisie, and a so-called people? Would these diversities
and inequalities of social and political position form, or tend to form, a hier-
archy of classes analogous to those which formerly existed in French society?
No, certainly!—the words aristocracy, democracy, nobility, bourgeoisie, or hierarchy,
do not correspond to the constituent elements of modern French society, or
express them with any truth or accuracy.
Does then this society consist solely of citizens equal among each other?
Are there no different classes, and only individual diversities and inequali-
ties, devoid of all political importance? Is there nothing but a great and uni-
form democracy, which seeks satisfaction in a republic at the risk of finding
repose in a despotism?
Neither is this the fact; either of these descriptions would equally mis-
represent the true state of our society. We must emancipate ourselves from
the tyranny of words, and see things as they really are. France is extremely
new, and yet full of the past; whilst the principles of unity and equality have
determined her organization, she still contains social conditions and polit-
ical situations profoundly different and unequal. There is no hierarchical
classification, but there are different classes; there is no aristocracy, prop-
erly so called, but there is something which is not democracy. The real, es-
sential, and distinct elements of French society, which I have just
described, may enfeeble each other by perpetual conflicts, but neither can
destroy or obliterate the other. They survive all the struggles in which they
engage, and all the calamities which they inflict on each other. Their co-ex-
istence is a fact which it is not in their power to abolish. Let them then
fully acquiesce in it; let them live together, and in peace. Neither the lib-
erty nor the repose, the dignity nor the prosperity, the greatness nor the se-
curity of France, are to be had on any other terms.

Notes

1. Douglas Johnson. 1963. Guizot: Aspects of French History 1787–1874. London:

Routledge and Kegan Paul.
 CHAPTER 9

What Is a Political Party?*

Johan Caspar Bluntschli
1869

Johan Caspar Bluntschli (1808–1881) began his career as a lawyer and legal scholar in
his native Zurich. His interest in party politics can be traced back to the period from
1837 to 1845, when he served on the Cantonal council. During this time he played a lead-
ing role in the formation of the Swiss “Middle Party,” a party that defined itself by its op-
position to Radicals on one side and Ultramontanes (Catholics) on the other. Bluntschli
soon left Zurich to assume positions in German universities, first in Munich (in 1848)
and then in Heidelberg (in 1861), where he took up the chair newly vacated by Robert
von Mohl (see chapter 10). Thereafter Bluntschli actively participated in the politics of
his new home state, sitting at various points in both the first (appointed) and second
(elected) chambers of Baden’s legislature. Bluntschli’s understanding of political parties
was influenced by his legislative experiences, by his liberal nationalist sympathies, and by
the writings of his friend, Friedrich Rohmer (see chapter 24).1

P
olitical parties appear in a state wherever political life is free. Parties
only fail to appear in a country where indifference to public affairs
prevails, or where the ruler forcefully suppresses every free demon-
stration of opinions by groups in the population. In the first instance, the ca-
pacity for political life is lacking; in the second instance, the development of
such a capacity is artificially retarded. The capacity and the tendency to form
parties are found in all nations which are suited to state building. However,

*Johan Caspar Bluntschli. 1869. Charakter und Geist der politischen Parteien. Nördlin-
gen: Druck und Verlag der T. H. Beck'schen Buchhandlung. Pp. 1–12.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
76 JOHAN CASPAR BLUNTSCHLI

sometimes these forces slumber, and sometimes they lack the air and the
light necessary for active development, and the free space in which to stir.
When prohibitions and penalties suppress a vital people’s tendencies to
construct political parties, as was the case in Germany until the middle of
this century, this impetus withdraws from public life and flees into religious
or ecclesiastical realms, or it intensifies intellectual, artistic, or social differ-
ences. There is a certain elective affinity between these non-political parties
and political parties. As a result, for a while the former can serve as a sub-
stitute for the latter. The orthodox party of the church is closely related to
the legitimist political party; the ecclesiastical reform party sympathizes
with the liberal political party. In the realm of learning, the historical ap-
proach is close to the politically conservative party, the critical-negative ap-
proach is close to the radicals. Both political and non-political parties
obviously are affected by the same contradictions in human nature. Both
types of groups sometimes attract and sometimes repel each other. Thus,
when we examine the nature of political parties, we will also discover much
that is useful for understanding non-political parties.
The more richly and freely that public life develops, the more promi-
nently the political parties appear. The most politically developed nations
thus display the most advanced party formation. The history of the Roman
Republic and the development of the English state and the North American
Union can only be understood as battles between the political parties into
which the Romans, the English and the North American peoples divided
themselves. It is only the struggle and the rivalry of opposing parties that
bring forth the highest political forms a people can support, and that reveal
the riches of the nation’s hidden energies. This demonstrates the political
necessity and utility of party formation. Thus, political parties are not what
many narrow-minded worriers imagine them to be—a suspect evil, a disease
of public life. On the contrary, they are a condition, and an indication, of a
healthy national political life. It is no virtue for the good citizen not to join
a party, and it is a very dubious claim to fame for a statesman to stand out-
side all parties. Parties are the natural and necessary projections of the pow-
erful internal forces which propel national political life.
However, as the word ( pars) itself suggests, the party is only a part of a bigger
whole; it is never itself the whole thing. A political party can, therefore, only in-
corporate the consciousness of a portion of the nation. It can never identify it-
self with the whole, with the people, with the state. Were it to do so, it would
overestimate its own importance, and would be unjustly arrogant towards all
the other parts. Thus it can fight the other parties, but it should not ignore
them, nor should it usually seek to destroy them. No party can stand alone: its
existence and development is made possible solely by the opposing party.
 WHAT IS A POLITICAL PARTY? 77

But is there not at least one political man in the state of whom it must be
demanded that he stands apart from the parties? In a monarchy the prince is
called to permanently represent in his person the unity of the state, and
therefore of the whole. Parties have no influence over his elevation: the
hereditary succession to the throne deliberately removes them from this. He
stands at the pinnacle of the state, raised above all the parties. The entire in-
stitution of hereditary monarchy thus removes the hereditary prince from
partisan divisions. The thing that we require of him, and of him almost ex-
clusively, is that he himself does not support a party or create a party, but that
he instead respects all parties and lets each develop in its own way under
general laws. As a result, we consider it a political mistake that King George
III of England surrounded himself with a party of “the King’s friends.”
Though this was soon destroyed by the old national parties, the Whigs and
the Tories, as surely as if it were ground up between two millstones, the de-
struction did nothing to strengthen the King’s reputation. We do not ap-
prove of the fact that continental princes have put themselves at the head of
legitimist parties.
Of course, the prince often will be forced by circumstances to rely on
some particular party to support his government, when that party at that
particular time seems especially powerful and capable of directing state poli-
cies. He also has reason to closely observe and oppose the activities of parties
which endanger public welfare. However, he runs the risk of looking parti-
san when he does this not for good reasons, not for reasons of state, but
when his stance and actions can be ascribed to his personal preference for
one party and to his personal hatred of the other party. In this case he will no
longer be honored by all as the head of state, but will be viewed as a party
leader, to be exploited or disregarded according to one’s party position. For
this reason he must guard himself against hasty and passionate declarations
on behalf of one party or against another party. This is particularly true in
advance of elections. If the party he supported suffers a big loss in spite of
his declaration, he perhaps may be forced to let the party fall in order to pre-
serve peace in the state. Or if, contrary to his expectations, the party he
spoke against scores an electoral victory anyway, he may have no choice but
to grant it a big influence over public affairs. Whoever heads a state for a
long time—as a hereditary monarch should do and desires to do—must pay
attention to changes in public life, and must come to terms with the power
fluctuations dictated by the changing currents of public opinion.
This requirement of non-partisanship does not apply to royal ministers
and to other civil servants, not even to the elected president of a republic. Of
course, even these occupants of leading state offices cannot act merely as
partisans when they act in an official capacity, because the office belongs to
78 JOHAN CASPAR BLUNTSCHLI

the state as a whole, not to the party. The office is imbued with the spirit of
the state, and it serves the state. The business of the office is state business.
The legal code specifies many duties and powers, but it says nothing about
parties. The constitution and the state legal code are firmly established as the
common law for all, regardless of party. They also limit parties’ activities and
battles. The judge must stand above the parties when he uses legal reasoning
to settle a dispute between parties at law; he must assess the weight of their
arguments on the scales of justice. The public administrator may not use
public monies to benefit the party, and may not let ordinances be dictated by
partisan concerns instead of by concern for public needs. Laws are not writ-
ten to benefit or harm particular parties, but instead are non-partisan in
pronouncing an equal law for everyone. Parties only come to the fore where
there is activity under the rule of law, that is, where politics starts.
This general obligation of all officials to be non-partisan does not pre-
vent a civil servant from joining with like-minded people and acknowledg-
ing a party in the realm of politics. He is not the personification of the
whole to the same degree as the prince. It is true that as a civil servant he is
an official actor and a representative of the state, and to this extent he must
exercise his office in a non-partisan way. But on the other hand, as a private
person and a political man he is in a position that permits him to seek out
party comrades and to join with them in common struggle. The greatest
Roman and English statesmen were always simultaneously non-partisan
magistrates and ministers, and respected party leaders. The presidents of
the United States are always led to the White House by a party. Party will
be very influential wherever offices are filled by election, whether it be a na-
tional election or an election in a large corporation, because it is above all in
elections that parties struggle for victory. Thus, the importance of parties
will be strengthened to the extent that positions are filled by votes of large
electorates. In contrast, the more that official appointments are directed by
the central state powers, the weaker will be the influence of parties. A re-
public (an aristocratic one just as much as a democratic one) therefore nat-
urally inclines towards party government, whereas monarchy favors its
limitation. Modern constitutional monarchy attempts to reconcile these
contrasts by removing most technical offices from the parties, whereas the
truly political offices are controlled by the parties. The impact of parties
rises and falls on the waves of political life, but is only absent in the non-
partisan exercise of the duties of public administration. Political partisan-
ship therefore does not fit with the impartial legal status of the civil servant.
We demand that the historian be impartial, in other words, that he truth-
fully depict and justly assess all parties’ behavior; however, we do not de-
mand that he should be apartisan, in other words, that he should be an
 WHAT IS A POLITICAL PARTY? 79

insensitive mirror that indifferently takes in all scenes and coldly reflects
them. Just so, and even to a higher degree, we demand of the statesman who
holds an office that he be impartial, but not that he be apartisan.
It is true that there is more than a small risk that party will also have an
undeserved influence over the exercise of official duties. Such a deviation
from official duty is most destructive in legal affairs, because law must nec-
essarily apply to everyone equally. Its very being is damaged when it is made
to serve party passions which seek to limit it and dilute it. Even the judge is
in the right when, as a free citizen, he votes for his party, or when, as an
elected representative, he sides with his party. It is only as a judge that he
may not take account of party. But because his office particularly obliges
him to practice law impartially, it would be better for him not to take a
prominent role in party battles. The various parties’ trust in his impartial-
ity can easily be shaken if he appears to be an eager partisan outside the
court. For the judge it is not enough merely to be impartial; he must also be
seen to be impartial.
It is less notable when someone who holds a primarily political office joins
a party, because political parties justly belong in political life. Among the of-
fices of this sort are particularly ministers in charge of political affairs, and
their political helpers (not the more technical ministers), and the position of
representatives in legislatures. Presidents and councilors in a representative
democracy, who hold office only a short time, are in a position similar to po-
litical ministers in a representative monarchy. They owe their advancement
mostly to victorious political parties. Although they are placed at the pinna-
cle of the entire state, and in this sense are above the parties, they cannot deny
either their origins or the principles of their political party: these were the
basis upon which they won the confidence of the majority and were called to
their high office. Switching to another party, or even wavering between par-
ties, would endanger their reputation. On the other hand, if they were to gov-
ern in a one-sided way, fanatically following the dictates of their party, a
shared sense of public welfare and justice would turn opinion against them in
a healthy country. The party which supported them would lose credit as a re-
sult of such a misuse of power, and would easily be toppled by a rival party. It
would thereby demonstrate that it lacked the capacity to govern.
All this shows that parties are not a legal institution of the state, but are
instead a political institution. Political parties are not a limb of the organism
that is the body of the state, but rather they are free social groups whose
composition changes as people join or leave. They are allied for common po-
litical action by a shared belief and aim. They are both the product and the
representative of various currents of the political spirit which drives public
life in the state and in the legal spheres.
80 JOHAN CASPAR BLUNTSCHLI

We distinguish party from faction.

A faction is a distorted party; it is a denatured party. Just as parties are
necessary and useful at the higher levels of conscious and free public life, so
factions are unnecessary and corrupting. Parties develop as part of healthy
national life; factions come to power in unhealthy circumstances. Parties
complete the state; factions rip it apart. The rise of the state is propelled by
parties; the decay of the state is manifest in the activity of factions.
What is the basis of this difference? The difference in terminology is
clearly not so precise and well-established as science demands. Sometimes
factions are called parties, which explains the aversion which many feel to-
wards all types of parties.
We are speaking of a political party in the strict sense when it is inspired
by a political principle and follows a political purpose. Something is political
in the true sense of the word only if it presumes the existence of the state and
is therefore compatible with the state, and only if it serves the common wel-
fare. A political party can have great defects in its character. It may frivo-
lously press for innovations or overcautiously hope to preserve the status
quo. It may use the wrong methods, and therefore fail to achieve its goal. It
can even pursue an idiotic goal. These human weaknesses and mistakes still
do not besmirch the honorable name of a political party. However, a party
may never put itself above the state, put the part above the whole; it may
never put its partisan interests above the interests of the state. A party that
does this debases itself and becomes a faction. Factions do not want to serve
the state, but instead want the state to serve them. The goals they pursue are
not political—that is, for the common good—but are instead self-aggrandizing.
When the welfare of the state and party interests conflict, they unhesitat-
ingly prefer the latter to the former and sacrifice the one to the other.
It is not easy for a faction to ennoble itself and bring itself up to the level
of a political party, although this is not impossible. However, it is easy for a
political party to denature itself and descend into faction. A person is simul-
taneously an individual on his own and a member of a larger society—of the
family, the commune, the state, and lastly of humanity. The spirits of indi-
viduality and of community sometimes work together peacefully within a
person, and sometimes fight each other. Every party has a similar kind of
double life. They are alliances of particular party interests, and they are com-
ponents of the larger public and national communities. Particularism and
special interest exist within a political party, but the more general spirit of
the state and the interests of public welfare affect it more powerfully than
any party egoism. In contrast, self-conceit becomes over-powerful within
the faction, which seeks to exploit the state for its own goals. The contrast
between the political party and the faction is less that they contain different
 WHAT IS A POLITICAL PARTY? 81

powers and tendencies, but rather that they follow currents which are polar
opposites. Depending on the balance between the two poles within each—
special interest and state interest—the identical association will be either a
political party or a faction. It has entered the paths of faction as soon as self-
aggrandizement or even querulousness overpowers love for the fatherland
within a party, and it consciously and deliberately fails to do that which is
beneficial to the state and to society in general, but rather does that which is
dictated by its passions.
Party activity is by no means in itself factious merely because a party
holds a closed assembly to choose its leader or make internal pacts and
agree on decisions, or because it produces special pamphlets to publicize its
views and represent it in struggles with other parties, or supports its
friends and elevates them, or resists its opponents and battles to defeat
them. It also should not be decried as factious when the individual parti-
san subordinates his individual opinion and preferences to party decisions
and follows party leaders as a soldier follows officers (at least as long as this
is done without violating any moral duties). If a party wants to fulfill its
aims and attain the goals for which the party united, it must to some extent
organize itself as an active community and act as a close knit corporation
in public life, in electoral meetings, and in local councils. Party discipline
and the subordination of the individual party member to the decisions of
the whole part are as essential to political struggles as the discipline of
troops and the subordination of the individual fighter to the general com-
mand is essential for the conduct of military wars. However, when party
zeal and party passions become so powerful that parties would rather rip to
shreds the common fatherland than contribute to its salvation and welfare,
when a party wins control of the state and uses it to run a party dictator-
ship, unjustly suppressing and persecuting all who think differently, when
a party allies itself with a foreign enemy against the country and nation to
which it belongs—in these cases this kind of anti-state activity rules out the
designation “political party”: the party has become a faction.

Notes

1. Rochus von Liliencron, ed. 1903. Allgemeine deutsche Biographie. Vol. 47. Leipzig:
Duncker and Humblot. Pp. 29–39; Walther Killy, ed. Deutsche biographische En-
zyklopädie. Vol. 1. Munich: K. G. Saur. Pp. 590–1.
 CHAPTER 10

Parties in the State*

Robert von Mohl
1872

Robert von Mohl (1799–1875) was a scholar of public law and a politician. Most of his
study and teaching was divided between the southern German universities of Tübingen
and Heidelberg. In 1848 von Mohl was elected to the new National Assembly in Frank-
furt. He played a prominent part in the Assembly’s efforts to establish a new state, serv-
ing first in the committee which was charged with drafting a constitution, then assuming
the post of Minister of Justice. After the collapse of the 1848 revolution, von Mohl re-
turned to his professorial duties at Heidelberg. Von Mohl received further political ex-
perience in the upper chamber of Baden’s legislature, in which he sat as a university
representative from 1857–1873. The following selection is the complete entry on politi-
cal parties in the second edition of Mohl’s Encyklopädie der Staatswis-
senschaften (Encyclopedia of Public Law); the first edition, published in 1859,
did not contain an entry on political parties.1

B
oth history and an awareness of the present show that public life is
often moved in its entirety by various parties’ struggles for power
and for the implementation of their ideas. Sometimes these battles
last for centuries and determine the fates of states and their peoples: the
struggle for victory results in bloody strife, and in the destructive persecu-
tion of individuals and of entire classes. But generally parties are con-
structed from influential groups in society, often according to ancestry,
property, and religion. This form of public life is not, however, essential. No

*Robert von Mohl. 1872. “Die Parteien im Staate.” In Encyklopädie der Staatswis-
senschaften. 2d ed. Tübingen: Verlag der H. Laupp'schen Buchhandlung. Pp. 648–56.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
84 ROBERT VON MOHL

trace of such communal action and its consequences are to be found in some
nations, or in other states in all periods. But whenever and wherever it ex-
ists, it is extremely important for the longevity and effectiveness of the con-
stitution.2 Therefore a proper treatment of the subject is an important
subject in the study of the state, and it is a source for advancing the study of
public morality.
As far as the term “party” is concerned, it should be distinguished from
“faction” and from “grouping.” A faction is a number of tightly linked people
who strive to achieve an improper, selfish, goal by jointly employing every
means that would further their aim, including illegal and immoral means. A
faction is quite aware of its aim and its methods. It is closed to the outside
world, but is well organized internally. It may even keep secret the fact of its
alliance, and its resources. The association only lasts until the achievement
of the goal; however, securing this may require extended cooperation. Some-
thing may be called a grouping when a particular question so passionately en-
gages citizens’ passions and wishes that together they loudly, and indeed
threateningly, demand a certain action, joining each other and working to-
gether to achieve its immediate implementation. A grouping, however, lacks
defined organization or boundaries. It has no need to act together in any
other areas, unless the association continues after the goal’s achievement or
decisive defeat. The means it employs may be illegal, that is to say violent,
but they are probably not dishonorable, or else they would not publicly unite
so many people, particularly people who do not already know each other. In
contrast, a state party includes all who want to direct state power in a partic-
ular way, or who want to create particular public structures and conditions.
Depending on the actual circumstances, they want to achieve this either by
taking over the government itself, or else by exercising a decisive influence
over it. By definition, a party is oriented toward an ideal aim, and it promises
that achieving this aim will benefit everyone—including, of course, its own
members. However, this does not necessarily mean that it is a selfish aim. A
party is conscious of its goal and openly acknowledges it, and tries to win as
many supporters as possible. Every fully formed and sustainable party has a
more or less defined public face and self-acknowledged leaders.3 When pas-
sions climb, the means employed may be violent and even unseemly; how-
ever, this is not an innate characteristic of parties. A party’s longevity
depends on circumstances, and also on the power of its fundamental beliefs,
actions, and aims. Violence can only superficially suppress it. In contrast, the
conviction that the goal is unreachable or unjust will make people grow in-
different towards it; similarly, a new and more powerful interest can sap par-
ticipants’ support and perhaps bring about the party’s rapid demise. It is not
uncommon for parties to decay once victory is achieved, whether because of
 PARTIES IN THE STATE 85

personal disputes about the division of spoils, or because of differences of

opinion about the consequences of victory.
The preceding thus shows:
1. The reason why parties are present in certain states but absent in oth-
ers. It is impossible to have parties with an active public presence in those
states where subjects are unable to participate in the direction of public af-
fairs, or where the over-powerful state forces them to obedient conformity.
This is the case, for instance, in a pure theocracy or in an absolutist monar-
chy. In other types of states, the communal ideal does not include active and
broad participation in public affairs. Even if the formation of parties is not
legally or practically impossible under such circumstances, it still is not to be
expected. Examples of this include patriarchies and patrimonial states. And
finally, even where an active public life is possible and where there is room
for honorable competition, consensus may reign for some shorter or longer
period, or things may relax after a big uproar. In the one case there are no
differences of opinion; in the other, no energy to work for desirable goals. In
contrast, parties normally exist in all states in which citizens are free, and
wherever there are attempts to achieve any kind of change in the state. At
least for a minority of people, the new state of affairs which is to be achieved
is never without its drawbacks, and the status quo is never devoid of all ad-
vantages. As a rule, there are several ways to reach the same goal. Often an
earlier tendency continues to survive alongside the newly emerging one, or
sometimes various powerful interests assert themselves in different parts of
society. These all can produce parties. Parties are most certain to be present
wherever the people themselves have a legal role in government, in other
words, where influential classes or even the masses directly or indirectly de-
cide what should happen to the state. This is the case under both forms of
popular sovereignty, and in a principality with a legislature.
2. It is in no sense in the nature of a party to be the enemy of the existing
state order. It may indeed be so in very unhealthy circumstances; in this case,
a party will seek the total overthrow of the existing order. In more normal
circumstances, however, it is only a question of modifications, and every
party understandably will seek to lead the government according to its own
wishes, and to fill the government with its own supporters. Once a party has
achieved this, its task is not to fight the government, but rather to strengthen
it and maintain it. The parties which do not gain positions will, of course, be
in opposition. But, at least in countries where people are public minded, sen-
sible parties will not attempt to make it impossible to govern, nor will they
make demands that no administration would be able to fulfill. Instead, they
will seek to remove the party which firmly opposes their own views, the one
which now finds itself at the helm of government. They will not, however,
thereby demand anything that they could not or would not want to fulfill
86 ROBERT VON MOHL

were they to come to power. It is therefore easy to explain why conservative

parties take care when they are in opposition to behave correctly and diplo-
matically in regards to the existing government, and to public affairs in gen-
eral.4
3. There is only very limited truth to the frequently heard demand that a
government should stay independent from parties, and that a true statesman
should stand above the parties. This depends entirely on the type of govern-
ment and on the actual circumstances. A statesman has no choice but to be
a partisan in a state where two distinctly different parties are so developed
and so powerful that all other parties are excluded when they struggle, with
varying degrees of success, to take charge of public affairs. This is possible
and even normal under both types of popular sovereignty, whether in a
monarchy governed according to the parliamentary system or in an aristoc-
racy. In such circumstances, a statesman must closely link himself to one of
the parties, trying to get to the top of the party and working with it and
through it. Without this kind of tie he will have no influence, so that both
prudence and honor command his loyalty to the party’s principles and inter-
ests. A man of high principles can leave his party and switch to its opponents
only when one of the parties imperiously demands behavior which is incom-
patible with the welfare of the state. Usually when this is done he sacrifices
his position and is sharply criticized for his action.5 It is undeniable that
sometimes the person who wants to keep a state free from all parties is the
usurper who wants to lead a coup, and who commands his own source of
power (for instance, the army). But such circumstances are not the subject
of scientific observation. Things are different where particular parties like-
wise exist, but where the government is not determined by the varying
strength of the parties, but rather is founded on an authoritarian basis. An
example of this is solo rule with a popular assembly where government is
based on monarchical, not parliamentary, principles. In these countries lead-
ing statesman do not necessarily come from the parties and may even hold
themselves at a distance from them. Even so, they need to have some con-
nections to the parties, unless they want to make the business of government
very complicated. Instead of this they probably will try to build good per-
sonal and substantive relations with the parties that are most sympathetic to
the government’s principles. Wherever possible the government will try to
build and maintain a majority in the political assembly with these parties.
The government is indisputably more stable in such circumstances. How-
ever, there will be no lack of party disputes, and these will have the unfortu-
nate characteristic that attacks are not merely of party against party, but are
directed at the government by parties which are not linked with it. It is pos-
sible that long-lasting and very debilitating misunderstandings will result
 PARTIES IN THE STATE 87

from this.6 A third case, one which is not uncommon in transitional periods,
is that the parties multiply, so that no single party has a majority by itself.
This produces almost nothing but problems. It is less likely to result in fierce
battles if the state has an authoritarian regime, but even so the government
will not have any reliable support. This impairs the functioning of the sys-
tem, and it introduces the temptation of using improper means to expand
support, or at least to produce neutrality. However, parliamentary govern-
ment is made extremely difficult by the absence of a party that is powerful
enough to provide stable leadership. The consequences of this are frequent
changes in personnel, weak coalition governments, “swing” systems.7 Thus, a
multifaceted effort to clarify and simplify relations is always advisable, fol-
lowed by the establishment of proper relations between leading statesmen
and party life. Something which is not necessarily related to such divisions
among the parties, but which is commonly experienced, is that members of
a representative assembly who belong to a particular partisan tendency join
together in a so-called Fraction. This is an association which specially advises
its members and which binds them to majority decisions. This form of par-
liamentary party life is an outgrowth which is harmful in every way, a nui-
sance, evidence of inadequate schooling in public affairs. For all that is said
about non-participation in parties, this is only well-founded for the person
of the prince to the extent that he should not link himself personally and in-
dissolubly with any of the parties, but should rather behave towards all who
are not his declared enemies in such a way that he can change his advisors ac-
cording to circumstances, and without needing to recant his own past.
4. It is undoubtedly true that an active party life has very definite disad-
vantages. People on all sides tend to handle people, events, and circumstances
with prejudice colored by party against party, or party against the government.
They undeservedly and unjustly over- and underestimate, they are not choosy
about their means, they substitute personal aims for the original general good.
An intense party struggle, one that lasts for a long time and includes chang-
ing fortunes—in other words, one where the opponents are of approximately
equal strength—is distressing and damaging in many ways. The peaceful
transaction of affairs is disturbed, and deep social rifts may be created which
may reach all the way down to the level of family life. Men in public life ex-
haust themselves prematurely, and often unnecessarily, in passionate battles of
opinion. Spiteful and unjust behavior often follows a victory. In the worst
cases party struggles produce great disorder and even bloody civil wars. Even
so, it would not make much sense to categorically reject the existence of po-
litical parties, or to suggest that it is the right and duty of state authorities to
block or suppress them. The advantages of active and diverse participation in
public life are so overwhelming. It makes it impossible for those who hold
88 ROBERT VON MOHL

power to be inactive or apathetically indifferent. It continually elevates im-

portant men from the various sides into positions of influence. Mistakes are
prevented because opponents exercise oversight. Important public questions
can be resolved, and an acceptable compromise found, only after they are
thoroughly disputed. In the end, civil freedom is not a gift, nor can it be seized
in one try; rather, it can only be won through a long struggle, and only retained
if people are always ready to defend it. Neither the undisturbed quiet of the
petit-bourgeois nor the unchallenged authority of the civil servant are ideal
models for community life, nor do they bring about such an ideal. In contrast,
party life may be stormy, but at least it is not lazy or stagnant.
5. When parties have about the same amount of power, and when everyone
becomes tired of unresolved conflict, this sometimes brings about an agree-
ment to jointly lead the state, and results in coalition governments and the di-
vision among the parties of public positions, or of influence over public affairs,
etc. This can only endure and be of value where the conflicts were never im-
portant, or where they have been smoothed over by honest and mutual com-
promise. In these cases it is possible for several parties to dissolve themselves
into a lasting association. However, as a rule such an alliance is only a half-
hearted measure and is, at most, a truce. After some shorter or longer period
of mutual distrust, great inaction in the most important areas, and often a gen-
eral loss of respect, once again tears apart that which does not belong together,
and the division is deeper and more bitter than before.—The aforementioned
governmental alliances of one-time opponents should not be confused with al-
liances of several parties united in common competition against an opponent.
The latter are natural, and are often effective as well. Of course, it is not to be
expected that this friendship will endure after victory is achieved and the dan-
ger disappears.
6. Every aspect of public life can be a target for party efforts, including, for
instance, the shape of the constitution, freedom vs. strict government, reli-
gious exercise, inheritance law, foreign relations, etc. The parties which are
most lasting and perhaps also the most outspoken are probably those that
have social, that is to say religious, foundations. However, in free states there
will always be two party tendencies: one that points towards securing and
expanding freedoms, and one which strives for a strong government and
order. Both of these may be internally divided according to whether they
favor moderate ends and means or the reckless implementation of all their
aims. In such cases parties that are extremely opposed to one another may
resemble each other in terms of violence, and therefore may prefer each
other to milder comrades who share more similar opinions. Not infrequently
parties are marvelously amalgamated and torn apart under the influence of
races and tribes, historical events, religious controversies.8 It is not good pol-
 PARTIES IN THE STATE 89

itics to give unconditional preference to any particular party over others.

Praise and blame can be variously distributed according to the changing
needs of the times and the people, according to the personality of the lead-
ers, according to accidental passions and moods; however, a party will seldom
be entirely blameless.

Notes

1. Klaus-Peter Schroeder. 1998. “Robert von Mohl (1799–1875)—Staats-

rechtler und erster Reichsjustizminister Deutschlands.” Neue juristische
Wochenzeitung 21: 1518–1524.
2. On parties see Rohmer, Th., Die vier Parteien, Zürich, 1844.—Bolingbrocke
[sic], Dissert. on Parties. Edinb., 1768.—Stahl, J., Die gegenwärtigen Parteien in Staat
und Kirche Berl., 1863.—Franz, C. Kritik aller Parteien, Berl., 1864.—Walcker, C.,
Kritik der Parteien in Deutschland, Berl., 1865.—Jörg, J. C., Geschichte der socialen und
politischen Parteien in Deutschland, Freibg., 1867.—Treitschke, H. v., Histor. polit.
Aufsätze, 4th ed., vol. 3, p. 422 ff.—Compare with Welcker’s Staatslexikon, 2d
ed., vol. 10, p. 479 ff.
3. There are formally articulated organizations which give a party the power to
command, which have distinct subordinate bodies, a precisely regulated
structure, and control over money and human resources. These are very dif-
ferent from the more natural and less harmful form assumed by parties,
which voluntarily recognize particular men as champions and leaders that
have their own outlets to represent the common point of view and that use
only certain means to accomplish their aims. The former establishments are
states within the state, and they may be able to put insuperable obstacles in
the way of the legal authorities. It is particularly questionable when members
pledge themselves to unconditional obedience, perhaps even at the command
of a secret leader. Party organizations of this type are not compatible with a
well-ordered state, and it is always justified to engage in a life and death
struggle with them, whatever their actual or ostensible goal. Indeed, in the
long run this is unavoidable. Examples of these kind of associations include
the Jacobins, the Carobinari, Baden’s Landesausschuss of 1849, and the Interna-
tional. It showed the political maturity of the English people that for a long
time it tolerated the formal organization of those who supported a particu-
lar, legal, aim (for example, the Anti-Corn Law League), but that a perma-
nent sub-organization inferior to the high assembly—one with enduring
power to influence public affairs—was generally considered to be incompat-
ible with the state, with the law, and with justice. However, it is a sad devel-
opment that public opinion and lawmakers now tolerate the organization of
the International. When parties turn to secret societies, oath swearing, and
scheduled meetings, they have become either conspiracies or childish games;
in any case, they are not the natural expressions of a healthy public life.
4. Comparing the behavior of English parties with that of the German Lib-
erals after the upheaval of 1848 is very instructive for understanding the
 CHAPTER 11

The Place of Party in the Political System*

Anson D. Morse
1891

Anson Morse (1846–1916) was a professor of history and political economy at Amherst
College, his alma mater, from 1876 until his retirement in 1907. As he notes in the fol-
lowing essay, it was written at a point when parties were still a very neglected subject in
the study of politics; that prior neglect was one of the reasons this article was so favorably
received by his contemporaries. Both pieces by Morse in this collection depict partisan
politics and partisan “warfare” as desirable evolutionary substitutes for real warfare and
violent revolution. Like many subsequent defenders of American parties, Morse argues
that parties usefully knit together a large and diverse country. While he acknowledges the
abuses committed by existing parties, he nevertheless defends the roles they play as rep-
resentatives of group (not general ) interests. He thus rejects earlier distinctions between
ideal-driven parties and unprincipled factions and takes what later writers would de-
scribe as a pluralist view of the legitimacy of competing interests.1

I
t is evident even to the careless observer that party fills a large space in
the world of politics. In the United States, France, Great Britain, and
indeed in all countries where party government is fully established, the
citizen receives the larger share of his political education from party, and
through party discharges the larger portion of his political duties. But de-
spite its conceded importance in practical politics, very few have as yet
turned their attention to the philosophy of party. As a rule even the best of
the formal treatises on political science give it little or no consideration.

*Anson D. Morse. 1891. "The Place of Party in the Political System." Annals of the
American Academy 2: 300–308.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
92 ANSON D. MORSE

This neglect may be due in some degree to the fact that the establishment
of party government is of recent date, and also to the further fact that pre-
vious to the establishment of party government, party was regarded not as
the servant but as the enemy of the state. It used to be thought of as having
no rights in the political household. It led therefore the precarious life of an
outlaw. Under governments which rest on force, as well as under govern-
ments that base their claims on divine right, there is no room for party. Such
governments see in party a denial of their pretensions and an aspirant to
their seats. This dislike of party on theoretic grounds was confirmed by its
early conduct. Treated as an outlaw it behaved as an outlaw. Conventional
morality it set at defiance. It grew up in the atmosphere of irresponsibility.
Since its first work was to unsettle and destroy, it arrayed against itself all
conservative influences both good and bad; and this hostility has always
stood in the way of the discovery of its functions and the recognition of its
services. It is clear that the framers of the Constitution of the United States
did not make full allowance for the fact that the system which they planned
would be worked by party; had they done so they would not have devised so
futile an arrangement as the electoral college.
But whatever may be the excuse for past neglect, there can be no good
ground for its continuance. We live to-day under party government. We
want good government; and the first step towards securing this is to acquaint
ourselves with the nature, the capacity and the limitation of our new ruler.
But party is by no means identical with government. It is both something
more and something less. It is one of a number of factors which taken to-
gether constitute the system found in every advanced state by means of
which its political life and progress are maintained. But what place does
party hold in this system? The first step towards an answer is to obtain a
clear conception of the nature of the state and of the several factors which
serve as the organs of its activity.
The state, for the sake of which the political system exists, may be defined
as a people politically organized; that is, a people whose classes and individ-
uals form an organic whole in and through which the political wants of each
and all are satisfied. No people that lacks this political self-sufficiency can be
a state. A community may be so organized that it can satisfy most of the
wants which its members feel as citizens, and yet if it must go outside of it-
self in order to find satisfaction for even one of these, that community is not
a state. In this sense—the sense which we employ when we speak of France
and Russia as states—neither Canada nor Massachusetts is a state. But polit-
ical self-sufficiency, although essential to every true state, does not imply iso-
lation. A degree of inter-dependence among states in matters of a
non-political nature is not only desirable but indispensable. Without it
 THE PLACE OF PARTY IN THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 93

progress must be slow and inconsiderable. This useful interdependence is

partly economic, partly intellectual, and partly moral and spiritual. That it
obtain from other peoples their highest goods and that it impart to them its
own, is the condition on which alone any people can take a worthy part in
promoting civilization. The traffic in ideas is safe enough unless it becomes
one-sided. The habit of receiving and enjoying what others produce without
producing and giving what others may enjoy is not less hurtful to a people
than to an individual. The “ultimate end” for which each state exists is to
contribute as much as possible to the progress of mankind, but its immedi-
ate end as well as its absorbing occupation, is to provide for its own develop-
ment and welfare.
The organ through which the state provides for its ordinary wants is gov-
ernment. It will aid in the effort to obtain a true conception of government,
to think of it as the agent whom the state commissions to do certain things
in certain ways and for as long a time as the state sees fit to continue the
commission. It will aid also to separate in idea the agent from the agency:
the agent being the person or group of persons who govern, and the agency
the post or group of posts which they fill. Government is the creature of the
state. Its office is to serve the state. It has no rights as against the state. It is
good in proportion to its obedience and in proportion to the efficiency and
fidelity with which it provides for the interests committed to its charge.
But how shall the state secure this obedience and fidelity? In the earlier
stages of political development the state did not as a rule secure them at all.
Government regularly usurped the functions of the state and identified it-
self with the state. When Louis XIV asserted that he, the king, was the
state, he advanced a claim which accorded with the practice of most gov-
ernments before his day and for some time afterwards. There had been, it
is true, exceptional great rulers who held themselves to be the servants of
their people, and there had been exceptional great periods of considerable
duration when government was obedient to the state. But these were in the
best days of Greece and Rome. Before and afterwards and nearly every-
where government was the master and the state, the people, was the servant
or rather the slave. This, however, did not come by chance. It was the nec-
essary consequence of the fact that the people were then in their political
infancy. The governments were guardians who, since there was no court to
call them to account, administered the estates of their wards in their own
interests. This statement, however, does not apply without qualification to
Latin-Christian Europe during mediaeval times. Fortunately each people
had then not one but three government-guardians, namely, the pope, the
emperor or king, and the feudal lord. Each in turn interposed as the cham-
pion of the people against the oppression of the other two. The people
94 ANSON D. MORSE

under the protection and leadership of first one and then another of their
masters, learned to understand, to value, and to fight for their rights, and in
this way made some advance towards political manhood. How greatly this
mediaeval division of government contributed to progress may be seen in
the political retrogression which followed when, at the beginning of the
modern period, the national king overcame both pope and baron and ap-
propriated to himself the whole or nearly the whole of government. The
peoples were at that time still very far from being able to cope with govern-
ment. They possessed the principle of representative government; but
nowhere could they avail themselves of it in resisting the encroachments of
the king. In Spain and France the principle itself was disowned and for a
long time almost forgotten. In England it remained, but for a considerable
period Parliament was excluded from its highest functions, and degraded
into an almost passive instrument of royal policy and caprice. The early Tu-
dors oppressed the state; but, because they did this by means of Parliament,
England was able to preserve what her neighbors lost, namely, an institution
through which in better times the state could win back its freedom and its
rightful authority over government. The English, moreover, were the first to
outgrow the political immaturity which had made oppression possible dur-
ing the fifteenth and much of the sixteenth centuries. Amid the fierce con-
flicts of the Reformation period, and under the tactful though despotic
guidance of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, the people learned to think for
themselves; and the state, apart from government, came to have a mind and
a will of its own. This was one step towards emancipation. The second be-
longs to the seventeenth century. Stated in its most comprehensive form,
the result of the struggle between Parliament and the Stuarts and between
Parliament and Cromwell was the overthrow of the theory of the divine
right not only of kings but of government, and the establishment of the
doctrine of the supremacy of the state over government. This I think is the
innermost meaning of the Bill of Rights of 1789. This epoch-marking in-
strument signifies in the history of the English-speaking peoples the second
and greater Restoration; not of the king “to his own,” as in 1660, but of the
people to their own. The victory won, the question which next arose was,
how shall its fruits be secured? By what devices can the state make sure that
government will always and fully execute its will?
The oldest and crudest of these is revolution. But this, although fre-
quently useful, and at times indispensable, is always costly. It leaves behind a
demoralization and exhaustion, from which the state recovers slowly and im-
perfectly. Revolution, moreover, can never be more than a partial remedy for
the evil under consideration. Indeed its greatest service is to enable the state
to regain for a short period its lost mastery over government, and while in
 THE PLACE OF PARTY IN THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 95

possession of this to make those changes in the form and personnel of gov-
ernment which promise greater efficiency and more perfect obedience. But
such changes are experiments; and there is usually much in the situation
which works against their success. In the case of many, perhaps of most rev-
olutions, the governments which they set up prove not less despotic than
those which they overthrow.
The constituent convention—the agency through which the state acts in
the formal reconstruction of government—is most frequently resorted to in
those crises when an impending revolution is to be averted, or when, in con-
sequence of revolution, government is to be constituted anew. Employed in
this way, the constituent convention is one of the most impressive and use-
ful of the means at the command of the state, for asserting its rights and en-
forcing its will. But it is open to the same objections which apply to
revolutions; indeed it is itself a revolution. It does not, and cannot, secure for
the state the continuance of that control over government which in its name
and for a moment it strongly asserts.
Another device also of ancient date, by which the state seeks to hold gov-
ernment in due subordination to itself, is a constitution. This, defined in
simple terms, is a body of rules by which the state constitutes government
and attempts to regulate its conduct. It is obvious, however, that these rules,
whether accepted slowly, one by one, as custom gives them form and author-
ity, or all at once when promulgated by a constituent convention, can never
adequately express the will of the state. They can only tell what that will is in
respect to the general direction of public policy. Particulars they cannot
touch. Not only in respect to ordinary legislation and administration, but
also in respect to the extraordinary measures which emergencies call for, a
constitution, however comprehensive, and however careful in the matter of
detail it may be, must still leave a very large field to the discretion of gov-
ernment, so that it becomes possible for government, while observing
scrupulously the formal requirements of the constitution, to pursue a policy
in many points contrary to the will, and hurtful to the interests of the state.
And this can happen all the more easily, because in progressive states the de-
velopment of the constitution cannot keep even pace with the development
of the people. As a rule, strongly conservative interests associate themselves
with established constitutional forms and resist for a long time and with suc-
cess useful as well as injurious changes. Moreover, constitutions are not self-
executing. Behind them there is need of a force separate from and
independent of themselves in order to carry their provisions into effect.
In some states the government may at will resolve itself into a constituent
convention to the extent at least of making important changes in the consti-
tution. This is true of England, France, and Germany. The result is to greatly
96 ANSON D. MORSE

strengthen government and to increase correspondingly the risk of en-

croachment upon the prerogatives of the state. Such states therefore stand in
special need of some primary form of organization by which they can hold
their governments in subjection.
The most effective of the several devices for accomplishing this end is
party. Slowly and clumsily it was fashioned during the quarrels between Cav-
alier and Roundhead. Awkwardly it began to claim and to fill its place under
the later Stuarts and William III. But during the reigns of the first and sec-
ond Georges, it came to be so well established that it could withstand the re-
action led by George III. The American colonies received the institution of
party, as they did most of their political outfit, from the mother country. But
in their hands it underwent after the formation of the Union a marked de-
velopment, and to-day the American party-system presents a perfection of
organization not elsewhere to be found.
How does party accomplish this task of holding government in subjec-
tion to the state? Its more obvious functions are two; it educates and orga-
nizes public opinion, and it administers the government. Public opinion is
what the people think and feel in respect to public questions; not what they
think and feel when such questions are first presented; but their well-
considered thought and their clarified feeling after they have studied these
questions well, and have attained the mood which is favorable to wise judg-
ment. Party is by far the most important of the agencies through which the
crude first thoughts and blind first feelings of the people are transformed
into the rational thinking and feeling which is public opinion. In the first
place, party keeps the people fully informed in regard to public matters.
What one party fails to discover or wishes to conceal, its rival is sure to un-
earth and proclaim. In the second place, party discusses with freedom and
thoroughness every public question in the presence of the people. In the
third place, party discusses such questions not merely on the ground of a
surface expediency but in the light of great principles. Indeed the ultimate
end of party is to secure as the basis of public policy the adoption of the
principles which it professes. The dissemination of these principles is
therefore one of its chief employments, and enters largely into the discus-
sions which it conducts. But the principles of the different parties consid-
ered collectively are the principles of the people. Despite the many
objectionable features which mark the contests of parties, such as narrow-
ness, exaggeration, and downright misrepresentation, the results of these
contests is to bring the people closer to the fundamental truths of politics,
and to make them sounder as well as better informed judges of what con-
cerns the public welfare. In the fourth place, party not only secures the dis-
cussion of public questions before the people, but, what is more important,
 THE PLACE OF PARTY IN THE POLITICAL SYSTEM 97

discussion by the people. In this way party lifts the common citizen out of
the ranks of private life and imparts to him in some degree a public char-
acter. Lastly, party organizes the public opinion which it helps to form. It
provides the means by which those who hold like views in regard to public
questions can act together effectively in their support. It is able to do this
because it possesses and exercises the right to designate those who fill the
posts of government; and because, in the second place, it must take into its
own hands the direction of every movement by which the constitution is
modified. The second of the two functions named is to administer the gov-
ernment. In the performance of this function the party in power under the
system of party government, holds the position and does the work which
falls to the king under a system which is really—not nominally as in En-
gland—monarchical. In the discharge of this function the duty of the party
in power as well as of the king is to apply in the wisest possible way the
public resources to the satisfaction of the public wants, and to do this ac-
cording to the methods and with strict regard to the limitations prescribed
by the constitution. It is not necessary to discuss here the debatable ques-
tion whether party government in itself is a good form of government. It
will suffice to direct attention to one remarkable difference between it and
other forms of government.
The party in power, in other words the government, is removable at will.
In England this can be done at any moment when Parliament is in session;
in the United States it can be done at least once in every four years. More-
over, in all countries where party-government exists, the state is constantly
checking, rebuking, or encouraging the party in power; and the party in
power, that is the government, listens respectfully and obediently to every
manifestation of its master’s will. That this is not true under other forms of
government is sufficiently obvious. States which are ruled by monarchs or
oligarchies are usually forced to resort to revolution whenever it becomes
necessary to depose the agent who governs.
To what place in the political system do these functions entitle party? The
answer to this question is that party, or rather the party system, constitutes
an informal but real and powerful primary organization of the state. Party
stands closer to the state than any other factor of the political system. It is
the first to interpret, and the first to give expression to the will of the state.
And when that will is once made manifest party superintends its execution.
If the state wills a change in the constitution, party puts in motion the con-
stitutional machinery by which the change is effected. If the state wills a
change in the policy of government, party takes the steps by which this, too,
is accomplished. In short, it seems to me, that the obedience of government
which the state used to secure at long intervals and for short periods, at great
98 ANSON D. MORSE

cost and very imperfectly by means of revolution and constituent assemblies,

it now secures easily and far more durably and perfectly by means of party.

Notes

1. Dwight W. Morrow. 1923. “Introduction.” In Anson Morse, Parties and Party

Leaders. Boston: Marshall Jones Co. Pp. vii–xlii.
 CHAPTER 12

Party Government*
Charles Richardson
1892

This response to Anson Morse (chapter 11), printed in full, makes clear that Morse’s tol-
erant views of parties were not universally shared by his contemporaries. Charles
Richardson was a Philadelphia businessman who was active in several political reform
movements. He was a founding member of the National Municipal League, an organi-
zation that opposed the excesses of the urban political machines and pressed for such
changes as non-partisan local government and civil service reform. In this article it is ev-
ident that Richardson’s close acquaintance with the problems of municipal politics had
given him a very jaundiced view of political parties.1

I
n the ANNALS for November, 1891, Professor Anson D. Morse has
stated, with much clearness, some of the advantages of party govern-
ment in a Republican state.
The study of these advantages might, however, lead to an exaggerated idea
of their importance, if we should neglect to consider at the same time such
disadvantages as are not merely accidental and curable, but apparently un-
avoidable and permanent in the operations of such political parties as we
now have.
Among the most important functions of these organizations are the se-
lection of candidates and the adoption of a platform or declaration of
principles. These responsible duties are intrusted to conventions, com-
posed of delegates chosen for the purpose at the party elections, known as
the primaries.

* Charles Richardson. 1892. "Party Government." Annals of the American Academy

2:518–21.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
100 CHARLES RICHARDSON

Those who have so far conformed to the rules of a party as to be entitled

to vote at its primaries may be divided into two classes, as follows: 1. Citizens
who have no special advantages to gain, and whose only motive for partici-
pation is their desire for good government.
2. Those who are actuated by personal ambition or hopes of securing of-
fice, contracts or pecuniary benefits.
In order to carry the primaries a considerable amount of time and labor
must necessarily be expended. The voters must communicate with each
other; views must be compared and harmonized; candidates suggested, in-
terviewed and agreed upon; tickets prepared and supplied, and concert of ac-
tion secured.
This labor is undertaken with eagerness and enthusiasm by the men who
are working for the offices or other personal benefits, and are actuated by
purely selfish motives. But the majority of citizens, engrossed as they are with
private business and family cares, have neither time nor inclination for such
tasks. And when their reluctance is overcome, as it occasionally is by their
sense of public duty, they are likely to find that their opponents have no hes-
itation in resorting to misrepresentation, trickery or fraud, in order to control
the result. Under these circumstances a small, but well-disciplined, energetic
and unscrupulous minority can generally defeat the honorable and patriotic
majority. It is therefore not surprising that honest and industrious citizens are
apt to conclude that it is useless for them to take part in such contests.
The growth of this feeling is particularly noticeable in our large cities. Ef-
forts to arrest it are only successful in rare instances, and it seems inevitable
that the primaries must continue to be gradually abandoned more and more
to the control of the class generally designated as politicians.
These gentlemen may have great abilities and many good qualities, but
for the reasons just stated, their positions cannot, except in rare cases, be ei-
ther won or retained unless their dominant motives are personal and parti-
san advantage; moral principles and the interests of the public being
secondary considerations. Public offices, contracts and patronage are what
they work for and what they must have, by fair means if possible, but if not,
then by whatever means may be necessary. For this purpose they are obliged
to combine among themselves and submit to such leaders as may seem best
able to direct their efforts, and to secure and apportion among them the
prizes they covet. Having once acquired complete control of a nominating
convention, their natural desire, is of course, to nominate such candidates
as will best serve their own personal interests, and in the absence of fac-
tional fights among themselves, the only real check upon this desire is their
fear of losing enough of the more independent voters to turn the scale in
the general elections.
 PARTY GOVERNMENT 101

This conflict between what they would like to do and what they dare to
do, usually results in their nominating such men as have no more honesty
and independence than may seem to be absolutely necessary for ultimate
success. And if they can secure candidates who are generally believed to be
able and honorable, but who will really obey and assist the spoilsmen, the
temptation to nominate them, and thus deceive and outwit the people, can
hardly be resisted.
In the construction of a party platform the leaders are naturally governed
by similar motives, and, instead of publishing a frank statement of their real
objects and intentions, they are disposed to adopt whatever may seem most
likely to attract the voters. In their effort to do this they seek to treat almost
every subject of public interest, but there are necessarily some points in re-
gard to which even the members of their own party are divided, and it is one
of the defects of party government that while many voters find sentiments
which they disapprove in each platform, they can see no alternative but to
cast their ballots for one or the other, and thus seem to endorse and support
ideas to which they are really opposed.
It would appear, therefore, that our system of political parties must nec-
essarily tend to place the selection of our candidates and the declaration of
our principles in the hands of a small minority of able but comparatively self-
ish and unscrupulous men. If this tendency was confined to either party, it
might be possible to hold it in check by voting for the nominees of the other;
but the present system practically confines the choice of the people to the
candidates of the two principal parties, all of them having been selected and
nominated by similar methods, and therefore characterized by a similar lack
of unselfish patriotism and moral principle. However dissatisfied the voters
may be with the candidates of their own party, they are naturally disposed to
believe that the candidates of the other party, having been chosen in the
same way, are at least as bad. They have therefore no means of expressing
their preference for better men, and their votes must be determined by the
attractions of a more or less unsatisfactory and untrustworthy political plat-
form, rather than by any considerations of personal honor or fitness.
Under such a system, if a candidate belongs to a party which happens to
be on the most popular side of some leading question, like the tariff or silver
coinage, his lack of integrity or personal ability must be very glaring to pre-
vent his election. And when he takes his seat in a legislative body, and it be-
comes his duty to make a careful study of some important question, to sift
the evidence and reach a wise and just conclusion, he, who should be like an
impartial judge or an unprejudiced juryman, may find that he is only the
bond servant of the leaders of his party, a mere automaton for the register-
ing of their decrees. It is in this way that our legislative assemblies are slowly
102 CHARLES RICHARDSON

losing their character as deliberative bodies, and yielding more and more to
the dictation of responsible partisan chiefs, or the decrees of a secret caucus.
While it is true that there are many exceptional instances, and occasional
popular uprisings, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that our general sub-
mission to the rule of political parties tends to lower our moral standards,
corrupt our people, and subject our National, State, and Municipal govern-
ments to a class of men who care far more for personal and partisan success
than for either the honor or material interests of those they profess to serve.
To discuss the possibility of devising better methods would be beyond the
scope of the present paper, which is only intended to suggest a few of the rea-
sons why we should not look upon the present system as satisfactory.

Notes

1. Frank Mann Stewart. 1950. A Half Century of Municipal Reform. Westport,

Conn.: Greenwood Press.
 CHAPTER 13

The Evils of Party*

Nathan Cree
1892

The author of this pamphlet was one of the earliest American propagandists for direct
democracy. For Cree one of the virtues of introducing referendums and initiatives was
that it would weaken the hold of parties and party bosses.

Chapter XI. The Evils of Party

T
he mode of acting through parties alone is attended with some spe-
cial evils. The parties absorb nearly all political life and action in
contentions with each other, or in struggles within their ranks to
control their policies and machinery. No public career is open to any one ex-
cept through a party, and all public life becomes partisan. No important
measures can be brought before the public for action and decision except
through a party, and then party spirit precludes all free, impartial discussion.
The division of the state into two permanent hostile camps prevents the de-
velopment of a true public spirit, and substitutes for it a party spirit so strong
that the sentiments proper to those who are members of a common country
often melt away; the unity of state life is in a measure destroyed and dis-
solved, and party is elevated above country. Multitudes of voters come to feel
that their first duty is to party, and that it is only by serving party that they
can serve their country.

*Nathan Cree. 1892. Direct Legislation by the People. Chicago: A. C. McClurg. Pp. 68–
73; 139–140.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
104 NATHAN CREE

Rival organizations and opponents soon come to be regarded as public en-

emies. The struggle between the parties is to pull each other down, and end-
less malice, falsehood, and bitterness follow. All real and true independence
of speech and action is destroyed; the success of the party is too important to
be imperiled by dissent or criticism! The party is almost necessarily turned
into an instrument for office-seeking and office-getting, and questions are
not taken up and considered in the spirit of truth, and to solve and settle
them, but to agitate the people and thereby get office and power. The desire
for power warps the conduct of party leaders, disconcerts and often utterly
defeats all attempts to procure honest party action. Party purposes prevail in-
stead of public purposes, and party becomes an end instead of a means. So
strong are the objections to party government that its entire abandonment
has often been urged; but the mercenary forces within the parties forbid their
voluntary disbandment, and experience shows that the mere struggle for of-
fice, and for power and its emoluments, will of themselves cause parties to
form, and that the attachments and antipathies generated by conflicts may
long be used by ambitious men as a means of party strife.
Those sentiments tend long to outlive the occasions which called them
into life, and new tenets and so-called issues are constantly being invented
to keep the parties vigorous and active, while the men of convictions and
principles in parties are often elbowed out by the professional jobbers and
office-seekers. Parties fear powerful influences too much to offend them, no
matter how necessary and just it may be to carry measures distasteful to such
influences. The United States Bank subjugated the Whig party, and the slave
interests for many years trammeled the action of the Democratic party; and
to-day neither great party in the United States will offend any great monied
interest. Such initiative as a party can have is necessarily with a few leaders,
who are often the most active, the most passionate, ultra, and intolerant men
of the whole party, so that the real justice, wisdom, conservatism, and fore-
thought that may dwell in the rank and file of a party frequently get no fair
expression, and the tendency of the party government is, therefore, often to
extreme and one-sided action.
But the personal struggle for office and power cannot be separated from
the contest for principles and policies. Leaders of party are always availing
themselves of the existence of certain feelings and interest in the community
as a means of party strife. How many of the agitations and issues of our pol-
itics are mere bids for party strength, and devices to make party capital? How
many of the laws of our partisan legislative bodies are of the same character?
Well did Benton say, when opposing the repeal of the Missouri compromise,
that the “troubles of the country arise from its uneasy politicians,” and that
“its safety depends upon the tranquil masses.” That was a measure, as he truly
 THE EVILS OF PARTY 105

said, asked for by no part of the people, and like so many others of our his-
tory it was but a move in the great game of party power. Under party gov-
ernment all representation is party representation, and its constitution rests
with those who control those first or primary meetings of the parties which
are the real springs and sources of power.
A party can never get credit for honest action with the whole people, and
a party government is always the subject of systematic attack by nearly half
the citizens. The organization of opposing enduring parties, is the organiza-
tion of discord, and imports an anti-social principle into the policy of the
state. We do not deny the fact that parties often represent public aims and
convictions, and it is probably true, that such organizations are necessary
under any mode of forming and finding the public will. Permanence is as-
serted for them, however, when they ought to be treated as transitory, and
their action is extended to subjects and offices which ought not to be
brought within their vortex. The growing intelligence and independence of
the voters, may, in time, correct such abuses and perversions of party, but no
power can ever make the machinery of a party the best mode of forming and
expressing the public will. Other modes, tending to mitigate the evils which
we have described, may be combined with the action of party through its pe-
culiar organs, and then it will be easy to remedy the prevailing perversions
and abuses of party organizations, and prevent them from overshadowing
the state itself.
A very able writer, Frederic Harrison, has recently spoken in strong terms
of the growing evils and dangers of party in England. “As practiced with us”
says he, “the organization of party tends to crush and stifle the free play of
public opinion. Thus, as the whole energy of our day runs into parliamentary
channels, and is organized with military discipline to secure party victories
(and the same thing is even more conspicuous in the United States), the free
formation of public opinion is almost as difficult as under the despotism of
a czar or a Napoleon.” Does not such a condition of things present an almost
fatal obstacle to the workings of democratic government? Is it not necessary
to seek a remedy?

Chapter XXIII. Softening Party Rigor

If great parties must exist in constant opposition to each other, it is impor-

tant to diminish their action as such to the narrowest limits, and restrict it to
the fewest occasions possible, instead of extending it as widely as possible
and making it continuous, as we now do. The spirit of party is little but evil,
and is full of danger. It poisons the public mind and prevents all impartial
106 NATHAN CREE

and high-toned action on most public affairs. Every man wishing for a pub-
lic career must swear fealty to it. The very highest question of state, the re-
form of the fundamental law, is generally treated in the spirit of party and
turned into a party issue. It is true, as has been said of them, that our parties
have debased the public mind and been turned into a convenience for of-
ficeseekers, and that we have a partisan people and a partisan government.
A method of political action permitting the electors to divide and act re-
specting all measures according to the views held of them touching their
merits as specific proposals, would dispense with the necessity of acting so
often through the machinery of party; and we might then hope that parties
would no longer absorb all political action, nor prescribe an arbitrary and
false test to try every law and policy, the claims of every candidate for office,
and of every applicant for public work or for public contracts; and that they
would no longer create a permanent state of suppressed civil war in the
bosom of society. Government, ostensibly by and for the people, might then
become something better than a distant, irresponsible power, so far removed
from the actual control of the voters that they are without motive to try to
control it. Great corporations, such as the railways, would not then be able
to rule, as they do now, by controlling the springs and sources of power—the
primary party meeting and the party convention.
 CHAPTER 14

What Is a Party?*
Anson D. Morse
1896

This defense of political parties appeared in Political Science Quarterly, a schol-

arly journal founded in 1886 to cater to the emerging discipline of the scientific study of
politics.

F
rom the beginning political development has depended on party.
“The castes of the ancient world are the fossilized remains” of parties
once active in a world still more ancient. The political interest of early
Hebrew history centers in the struggle of an intensely national party, which
sought to exclude foreign influences altogether, with a party which looked to
Egypt and to the more civilized states of western Asia for ideas and support.
And so it is always and everywhere; party is the manifestation of political life,
and the indispensable means of its growth. In recent times, moreover, every
advanced people has come to look to party—to an extent already great, and
everywhere increasing—for government. But in order that political develop-
ment may be sufficiently rapid and at the same time rightly proportioned
and healthful, and that party government may be good government, it is nec-
essary that the people, as well as the philosopher and the student, should
have just ideas concerning this agent whose conduct so profoundly influ-
ences their welfare.
Without attempting to include every point that may properly enter into a
complete definition, I offer, in reply to the question, What is a party? the fol-
lowing as a summary of its most important characteristics: A party is a

*Anson D. Morse. 1896. “What is a Party?” Political Science Quarterly 11:68–81.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
108 ANSON D. MORSE

durable organization which, in its simplest form, consists of a single group of

citizens united by common principles, but, in its more complex forms, of two
or more such groups held together by the weaker bond of a common policy;
and which, contrary to the view usually held, has for its immediate end the
advancement of the interests and the realization of the ideals, not of the
people as a whole, but of the particular group or groups which it represents.
The definition rests upon, and in part gives expression to, a theory of
party which deviates widely from those now current. Let us examine each of
its propositions.

I. Organization.

Organization is the process which, for the purpose of effective work, con-
verts many into one. In the case of party it is the birth-process; for, however
large the number of those who think and feel alike may be, they cannot, until
organized, do anything noteworthy in support of their common interests.
There is, however, no particular form nor any definable amount of organiza-
tion which is always requisite to the formation of a party. The form varies as
greatly as does that of government; and the amount which will suffice under
one set of conditions may prove quite inadequate under another. At times a
loosely associated crowd, acting in the main from fitful impulse, has per-
formed the functions, and therefore has deserved the name, of party; but in
the more advanced states of the modern world this is no longer possible.
Without a high degree of organization the largest body of citizens cannot at
the present day do the proper work of party. The change which has taken
place within a century seems almost startling. In respect to organization
there is as little resemblance between the parties of the Federalist period and
their compact, highly disciplined successors of to-day, as between the feudal
levies of the crusading period and the armies which established the unity of
the German empire. To go further back, the parties of classic antiquity im-
press the reader of history, and still more the modern party manager, as un-
wieldy and undependable in the extreme. This is true particularly of the
ancient democratic parties. The followers—it would hardly do to call them
the supporters—of the Gracchi seem more like mobs than parties; and
though Caesar conquered in the name of democracy, he did so by means of
the army which he was able to organize, rather than by the aid of a party,—a
fact which goes far to explain and to justify his subsequent course.
Without doubt the increasing susceptibility to the influences that or-
ganize is a general characteristic of modern times; for we see it in all de-
partments of human activity—social, ecclesiastical and industrial, as well
 WHAT IS A PARTY? 109

as political. The stimulus to production through the higher forms and

greater completeness of organization that has been made possible by this
increasing susceptibility, has done more than any other one thing to bring
about the recent immeasurable enlargement of the wealth of the world.
But with the good evil is mingled: and nowhere is this more evident than
in politics. The increasing readiness with which men submit themselves to
organization accounts in large measure for the rapid growth of party
despotism, and, to a greater extent than is commonly supposed, is the
source of that deplorable change which is transferring the control of par-
ties from leaders, who embody their ideas, to managers or “bosses,” with
whom rests, in an ever greater degree, the issue of their struggles.1 Of the
many problems associated with party few are so difficult to solve, and at
the same time in such urgent need of solution, as this: How, in the face of
the necessity for organization, and in view of the increasing readiness with
which men make the sacrifices that organization involves, can the
strongest and finest elements that belong to the character of the individ-
ual be maintained? Warfare upon “bosses,” however useful this may be,
cannot cure the evil. So long as the conditions that produce “bosses” re-
main unchanged, to remove one is simply to make room for another. The
true remedy is a change in the attitude of the citizen towards party.
The tasks which parties undertake require for their accomplishment not
only a high degree of organization but also an extended period of time. To
propagate party doctrines; to secure through elections, or by revolution, the
requisite control of the public powers; to incorporate, after such control is
secured, by acts of legislation and administrative measures, its own principles
with those which underlie the general policy of the state; and lastly, to stand
guard against all enemies until the utility of its work is fully proved, and the
work itself is definitely accepted,—these are the difficult, laborious, and
time-consuming tasks which every successful party must discharge. Hence,
whenever a group of citizens has a genuine call to form a party, the members
know that they must submit to a degree of organization not far inferior to
that of an army, and that the partnership into which they enter is for life.2

II. Principles and Policy.

There are few terms applied to parties which are used so freely as these,
and none concerning whose meaning there is such general disagreement.
Quite often a measure of policy which a party has supported for a long
time is mistaken for a principle. Even Webster speaks of protection and
free trade as “party principles.” But principles are always distinguishable
110 ANSON D. MORSE

from measures of policy; the latter may embody and reveal, but cannot
themselves be principles.
In the study of parties the first step should be to ascertain their principles;
for until this is done it is impossible to understand or rightly to judge their
conduct. The principles of a party I venture to define as the durable convictions
held in common by its members as to what the state should be and do. For, in the last analy-
sis, it is its convictions in respect to the most desirable form, institutions,
spirit and course of action of the state, that determine the natural attitude of
a party towards every public question. If we attempt to go further back and
inquire whence these convictions come, we enter a region of speculation
which is indeed attractive, but where guesses and surmisings take the place
of exact and verifiable conclusions. A man’s convictions are themselves def-
inite and tangible; but who can point out with certainty their deeply hidden
and inextricably mingled sources? For among these are the countless incal-
culable factors that constitute heredity, the bewildering complex of subtle
but always powerful influences that we call environment, and lastly those el-
ements of personal character that we cannot trace to heredity or environ-
ment, but which sometimes have a greater part than all things else in shaping
a man’s convictions. What in this respect is true of one citizen, is quite as
true of the entire group to which we give the name of party.
The policy of a party, on the other hand, comprehends all that the party
does in order to establish its principles; it includes therefore the whole of the
party’s conduct. Principles are disclosed in the end which is sought; policy in
the means employed for the attainment of this end. The failure to distin-
guish between principles and policy accounts for much of the misapprehen-
sion and injustice that parties suffer. Not infrequently they are accused of
betraying principles when they have simply made a change in policy. This was
the case with the Federalist Party. Its principles—that is, the convictions of
its most influential members in regard to what the state should be and do—
were aristocratic. To the minds of its supporters, at least of those who di-
rected the course of the party, the ideal state was an aristocratic republic. To
realize in the New World such a state, was, in so far as the Federalists acted
from strictly party motives, the end for which they strove. Everything they
did or tried to do which they thought conducive to this end, was, properly
speaking, a measure of policy. Such were the establishment of the constitu-
tion and the inauguration of a stronger general government; for by these
means they thought to check the democratization of politics and society.
And the same may be truly said of nearly all the celebrated measures of the
Federalists; the end they had in view was the creation here under republican
forms of a social and political structure which should resemble as closely as
possible that of England.3 Hence it is not just to accuse the Federalists of
 WHAT IS A PARTY? 111

treachery to principles because, after their defeat in 1800, many of them

ceased to support, and some actually turned against, the government which
they had done most to create and make prosperous. The change in their con-
duct proceeded not from treachery but from fidelity to principles. It was be-
cause their principles were still aristocratic that they would not, and indeed
could not, help to guard and strengthen the fortress they had built as a pro-
tection against democracy, but which had fallen into the hands of their ene-
mies.
Another accusation of treachery to principles, which is now almost uni-
versally accepted as just, is that based on the course of the Democratic-
Republican Party from its accession to power in 1801 until the beginning
of its disintegration in Monroe’s second administration. In the purchase of
Louisiana; in the support of an embargo which “destroyed instead of pro-
tecting” commerce; in the disregard during the war of 1812 of rights on
which, under the guidance of the foremost leaders of the national democ-
racy, the democratic states of Virginia and Kentucky had laid great stress in
the Resolutions of 1798 and 1799; in the creation of the second Bank of the
United States; in the passage of distinctly protective tariff acts; and in the
favor shown to internal improvements:—in all these and other instances it
is noted that the party interpreted the constitution in a way against which
it had previously made earnest protest, and supported measures which
hitherto it had condemned habitually and in the strongest terms. But did
these acts proceed from treachery to democratic principles? If they prove
that the party had lost its earlier convictions as to what the state should be
and do, and had come under the influence of new and different convictions
we must answer: Yes. If, on the other hand, the party was still true to the
Jeffersonian ideal of the state—an ideal which was then as it now is the
best embodiment of democratic principles, and in support of which the
victory of the year 1800 had been won, we must answer: No. The view
which seems to me most reasonable is, that the adoption of these and like
measures signifies a change in policy rather than in principles. Most of
them were promoted or at least approved by Jefferson himself; and no one
accuses him of betraying democratic principles. The situation was this: un-
less the party could meet successfully the new and, owing to the
Napoleonic wars, peculiarly trying responsibilities of office, it would lose
the favor of the people, and therewith all hope of soon establishing its
principles as the principles of the nation. It was, therefore, not through
forgetfulness of these, but in order to save them, that it resorted to the
measures we have named. Only when a party deliberately and consciously
adopts a policy which tends to prevent their realization can it be accused
justly of betraying its principles.
112 ANSON D. MORSE

Parties often misjudge not only in regard to individual measures, but as to

whole lines of policy; indeed, party history is filled to overflowing with errors
of this kind, while it records few if any unmistakable cases of treachery to
principles.
It is sometimes claimed that the principles of a party cannot change—
that the identity of a party is maintained only through the continued sup-
port of unchanging principles. While there is considerable truth in this
view, the statement should be qualified. The convictions which are rooted
in character—and only such deserve to rank as party principles—cannot
change easily or rapidly; still, in all progressive countries the character of
the people as a whole and of each division of the people is always in process
of change. The conservatives grow more liberal; the liberals, more conser-
vative; and all more tolerant and open-minded. The movement is slow, but
its influence upon the convictions which men hold in regard to what the
state should be and do is very considerable. The American conservative in
the days of the Whigs differed not a little in principle from his political an-
cestor, the Federalist conservative; and the Republican conservative of to-
day differs quite as much from the Whig conservative, whose general
principles he has inherited. But while party principles do and should un-
dergo change, the alterations cannot go so far as to destroy or obscure the
type: a party with aristocratic principles may find its ideal of the aristo-
cratic state differing widely from that which it held a generation earlier;
but so long as the ideal itself remains aristocratic, its principles have not
suffered essential change.
On the other hand, many, if not most, features of party policy may un-
dergo total change. Protection until a half-century ago was the policy of
the English Conservatives; since then they have supported free trade.
There are, however, certain lines of policy so well adapted to aid, under all
conditions, in the establishment of particular principles, that we may re-
gard them as permanent. Of these public education is one of the best ex-
amples; for its influence must always promote the realization of
democratic principles.
When a party is first formed, the bond which unites all its members is that
of common principles. As parties grow, this bond is gradually, though never
completely, exchanged for that of a common policy. In modern states no
party can become a great party save by winning recruits from those who
never accept its principles. The Democratic Party of the United States owed
a considerable portion of its strength before the Civil War to its success in
uniting, in support of a pro-slavery policy, the masses of the North, whose
principles were democratic, with the ruling class of the South, whose princi-
ples were aristocratic.
 WHAT IS A PARTY? 113

III. The End of Party.

In his Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents, published in 1770, just a cen-
tury and a quarter ago, when the material by which to test the theory was less
abundant and in some respects far inferior to what we now possess, Edmund
Burke defined party as “a body of men united, for promoting by their joint
endeavors the national interest, upon some particular principle in which
they are all agreed.” In Burke’s opinion, therefore, all parties have one and
the same end, namely, to promote the “national interest”; they differ from
one another only because each has its own way or method for promoting this
interest.4 This view presents parties as seeking not their own, but a higher
and larger good, namely, that of the state; they come before us as zealous,
high-minded servants, each working in his own way for the interest of a
noble master. The picture is attractive, and our first feeling is that we would
like to have it true. But is it true? Certainly there is much in party professions
that may be urged in its support. Every party which thinks it has a fair
prospect of winning office confines itself as closely as possible to the estab-
lishment of a single proposition, namely, that while other parties are bent on
courses that tend to destroy the state, its own efforts are directed to the sin-
gle end of promoting the general welfare. This is the substance of official
platforms, of the letters of acceptance by party nominees, and of the effu-
sions of the partisan stump and journal. In every one of these utterances the
keynote is devotion to what Burke calls the “national interest.”
If, in determining what is the end of party, it were proper to accept as true
what each party claims for itself, the view of Burke would be established im-
pregnably; but this we cannot do—and for reasons which are conclusive. In
the first place, parties put forth their self-laudations when the immediate
purpose for which they strive can be attained only through gaining the good-
will of the general public. At such times they are in the position of courtiers,
and subject to precisely the temptations to which courtiers succumb. In the
second place, each, while appropriating to itself the exclusive championship
of the cause of the people, describes its rivals one and all in terms which
would fitly apply to public enemies; but there is no reason why in such cases
self-praise should be any more trustworthy than accusations. In short, what
parties say of themselves, as well as what they say of one another, is so biased
by self-interest as to deserve little if any weight.
If at first sight the assent of intelligent and conscientious citizens to these
confessedly interested utterances would seem to give them claim to consid-
eration, even this is nevertheless forbidden by the reflection that such citi-
zens are divided into groups each of which denies what the others accept.
114 ANSON D. MORSE

It must, however, be conceded that the authorship of the definition we are

considering, and its wide, not to say general, acceptance, raise a strong pre-
sumption in its favor; but profound and wise as he was, Burke undoubtedly
erred in some of his conclusions. What assurance have we that he is right in
his view of party? If true, the definition must hold of every party, both pre-
sent and past. Let us apply the test. Do our American parties of to-day con-
form to Burke’s ideal? Is it the national interest that the Democratic, the
Republican and the Populist parties are seeking to promote? Or is it some
other interest or set of interests, large and important indeed, but not so large
or so important as the interest of the nation? Is zeal for the good of the
whole people, or for that of a limited division of the people, their master mo-
tive? There can be but one answer. Each is the representative, the special
champion, of a particular group of citizens for whose ideas and interests it
seeks the recognition and fostering care of the state; to secure this recogni-
tion and fostering care is the end for which it came into existence and to-
wards which all of its rational conduct tends. Moreover, what we find true of
parties in the United States is also true of those of England, Italy, France and
Germany. In none of these countries is it the comprehensive interest of the
state as a whole for which any party stands, but the interest of one, or at most
a few, of the elements that constitute the state; and this applies to the parties
that call themselves national as fully as to the others. How relatively small
this interest sometimes appears as compared with the national interest, is
best seen in the many-membered party system of Germany.5
But the party of Burke no more resembles the party of the past than it
does the party of to-day. For some centuries the plebeians and patricians of
Rome constituted two distinct parties, and their struggles decided to a great
degree the fortunes of the Roman state. And during the whole of this long
period it was never for the sake of Rome, to make her great and prosperous,
that they intrigued and fought; on the contrary, it was a narrower good,
namely, the interest of a class, which furnished the party motive. But if this
was true of the earlier and better days, what shall we say of the later period
of the republic, when, after the old patriciate had been replaced by a pluto-
cratic oligarchy and the masses had sunk into a shameless proletariate caring
only to be fed and amused at the public expense, the party struggle assumed
a more savage form and at last degenerated into a series of frightful civil
wars? No reasonable student of the times of Marius and Sulla will maintain
that either of the two great parties which they led sought through the policy
of bloodshed and proscription to promote the welfare of the state. If we turn
to the civil conflicts of the Reformation, we find in those of France and the
Netherlands, as well as in those of Germany and, to a great though lesser ex-
tent, in those of Scotland, England and Scandinavia, that the interest of a
 WHAT IS A PARTY? 115

creed, rather than the national interest, was the end for which always one,
and sometimes both, of the parties contended. Equally clear is it that in the
French Revolution the Jacobins, in undertaking to destroy the higher and
middle classes, were seeking to advance, not the interest of France, but sim-
ply the mistakenly supposed interest of the lower classes. In no other way can
we satisfactorily account for the changed attitude of the Federalist Party of
the United States toward the national idea after their defeat in 1800. They
cared more for the aristocratic principle of Federalism than for the nation;
otherwise they would have remained true to the nation despite the rejection
of their principle.
It is moreover a common observation that when states enter on a period
of decline, party struggles grow more violent and become always an impor-
tant and sometimes a chief factor in hastening the process of destruction. It
was so in the states of Greece, in republican (as distinguished from imperial)
Rome, and in the Eastern Empire. It is certainly not easy to reconcile this
fact with the view that the end of party is to promote the general welfare.
When, however, a state is in a really healthful condition, the appearance of a
great national emergency is the signal for the abatement of party strife. This
happened at the outbreak of our Civil War, when Democrats and Republi-
cans worked together to save the Union, each party laying aside to a consid-
erable extent and for the time being the policy for which it had labored
previously. This is illustrated in the organization, without prohibiting slav-
ery, of the territories of Colorado, Dakota and Nevada in 1861, when the Re-
publicans had control of both houses of Congress. The sinking of the
partisan—I do not use this word as a term of disparagement—in the patriot
was nobly exemplified by President Lincoln. His letter to Horace Greeley
under date of August 22, 1862, tells what was true of him in this respect from
the first day to the last of his term of office:

My paramount object is to save the Union, and not either to save or destroy
slavery. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it—if
I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it—and if I could do it by
freeing some and leaving others alone, I would also do that. What I do about
slavery and the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to save this Union;
and what I forbear, I forbear because I do not believe it would help to save the
Union.

Other notable instances are to be found in the coöperation of Whigs and

Democrats in the compromise Tariff Act of 1832, in the more general com-
promise measures of 1850, and in the patriotic course of the Democrats in
the crisis that followed the disputed election of 1876. But it is precisely at
such junctures as these, during which parties do work together to promote
116 ANSON D. MORSE

the national interest, that they are least like parties. Indeed, at such times
strictly party ends are held in abeyance, and parties lose temporarily their
most distinctive traits. As soon, however, as the crisis has passed they resume
their natural character, and devote themselves to the ends for the sake of
which they came into being. On the other hand, the readiness to sacrifice the
national interest to that of the limited group which a given party represents
always increases with the growth of party spirit; that is, when a party is most
a party it is most ready to disregard and even to attack the interest of the
people as a whole.
To sum up: the true end of party—the end, I would repeat, of which it is
itself conscious—is, in ordinary times, to promote not the general interest,
but the interest of a class, a section or some one of the many groups of citi-
zens which are to be found in every state in which there is political life, an
interest which is always something other—and generally, though not always,
something less—than the national interest.
But why should the state be divided into groups with separate and
sometimes conflicting interests? Why cannot there be throughout the na-
tion one interest, one mind, one aspiration and one public policy, for whose
establishment all shall work together harmoniously? Some dream of this,
but not wisely; for the Creator has so made man that his progress depends
on diversity. A society in which all should feel, think and act alike would
soon almost cease to feel, think and act. Such a society could not be com-
posed of individuals; it would itself be the only individual. Instead of a rich,
varied, continuous, ever-advancing development, it would be capable of
energetic activity only when first created, and this would be followed by an
exhaustion and lethargy from which there could be no recovery, because in
its members the principle of life and growth would have perished. The
health and progress of the state as a whole depends on the health and de-
velopment of the groups of citizens which are its elements. To promote the
health, to aid the development, to secure from the state for each group that
degree of recognition and fostering care which are its need and due,—this
is the not ignoble end for which parties exist.
In many ways the relationship of a party to the group of citizens of which
it is the political representative, is like that of the state to the people of
whom this group forms a part. In a general sense what the state undertakes
to do for the people, a party undertakes to do for a group. To promote the
national interest, that is, the interest that is common to all, is the immediate
end of the state; to promote the group interest is the immediate end of party.
In working toward its proper end the state organizes and protects the peo-
ple and fosters their development; the party does precisely the same for the
group. Each state in dealing with other peoples secures for its own as much
 WHAT IS A PARTY? 117

influence, reputation and material gain as it can; each party in dealing with
other parties does the same for the group under its charge. In early times no
state recognized the rights of other states; the same is equally true of early
parties. After many ages of sanguinary struggle states are rising to the con-
sciousness of a world-unity and the obligations which this unity imposes on
each towards all; the same has happened to parties. Indeed, it is doubtful
whether the humanization of man—the noblest of all the fruits of progress—
is more evident in the changed and changing inter-relationship of states or
in that of parties.
To give in briefest compass the substance of the views above set forth, I
would say that, just as a state is the political self-realization of a people, so a
party is the political self-realization of a group of citizens within the state.6

Notes

1. Of course the control of a party naturally gravitates into the hands of those
who are best able to promote its real or apparent success. It is because orga-
nization has come to be so very important a factor in the attainment of what
is accepted as success, that the man who can organize has risen to the high
position in party management which he now holds. On the other hand, it is
undeniable that a change for the worse has taken place in the national elec-
torate of the United States. This change is due not only to the too rapid ex-
tension of the franchise, but also to a specific change in the character of
citizenship. Individuality is decreasing; the average citizen of to-day relies
less on his own judgment, and accepts in a more docile way the opinions of
those with whom he is associated, than the average citizen of two genera-
tions, or even one generation ago. The extension of organization to different
fields, and its rapid development in each of these, is, so to speak, making men
more organizable—that is, less disposed to assert themselves as individuals,
and more disposed to do as others do.
2. The establishment of party government has done much to perfect both the
science and the art of party organization; and it has done this by increasing
the rewards, both moral and economic, of success. An admirable account of
the organization of American parties is given by Mr. Bryce, American Common-
wealth [see chapter 31].
3. It may be objected that the Federalists individually and as a body acted often
from motives of the purest patriotism. This is conceded, but my contention
is that in every such case they acted not as partisans, not as Federalists, but as
Americans, and that in many of these cases Democrats could and did unite
with them. But of this more below.
4. I think the context makes it clear that when, in the quotation cited, Burke
speaks of “a principle in which they are all agreed,” he means a method or
course of action. It is evident that this part of the definition summarily de-
scribes not the end itself, but the way of its attainment.
118 ANSON D. MORSE

5. See Walcker, Kritik der deutschen Parteien.

6. The limits necessarily assigned to this article have made it impossible to
treat with any fulness any one of its several topics. Two of the most impor-
tant, namely, the growth of parties through the substitution of a common
policy for common principles, and the relationship of party to the state, have
been introduced rather than discussed. Others, such as the analysis of party
policy, the relation of party to government, and the claims of party upon the
citizen, each of which stands in a vital relationship to the theory, are omit-
ted altogether.
 PART 3.

Parties and Legislatures

 CHAPTER 15

On Opposition Parties
in Germany and Elsewhere*
Wilhelm Traugott Krug
1836

Wilhelm Traugott Krug (1770–1842) spent most of his career as a professor of philoso-
phy at Leipzig University. His most famous publications were concerned with Kantian
philosophy and Hegelian phenomenology, but he also wrote many shorter treatises on
politics and public affairs. The following text is excerpted from an essay which appeared
in a collection of Krug’s political and legal commentaries. In this section, the politically
liberal Krug tries to distinguish the circumstances under which opposition parties
may—and may not—contribute to the common good.1

O
pposition is, in itself, neither good nor evil. It belongs to the large
class of things which the Stoics called “middling.” Everyone has a
contradictory streak within them—in some cases more, in some
cases less, depending on the extent to which the person is more or less ani-
mated, reactive, educated, cultured, flexible, etc. Because of this, all people
have a certain tendency towards opposition, and they regard opposition as
commendable and useful, as long as it is directed against others, and not
against themselves. For this reason, opposition parties in assemblies of the
estates or in representative bodies (parliaments, chambers) are usually pop-
ular with the public, because these parties are viewed as defenders of popu-
lar rights against governmental incursions. It is because of this that those

*Wilhelm Traugott Krug. 1836. “Ueber Oppositions-Parteien in und ausser

Deutschland.” In Politische und juridische Schriften, vol. 4. Braunschweig: Verlag von
Friedrich Bieweg. Pp. 159–67.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
122 WILHELM TRAUGOTT KRUG

who view popularity as the highest public good usually style themselves as an
opposition party, even though this popularity is a very volatile and perishable
possession. For “the people are blind in their hatred, blind in their love,” as
has been quite correctly stated by the very liberal Revue du progrès social (Sept.
1834, p. 382).
With opposition, as with everything, the what and the how can make it ei-
ther good or bad. Would it not be bad to oppose good itself? Similarly, it is
indisputably good to oppose evil. But even in the second case opposition
could be, if not evil, at least less good, if it were not done in the right way, if
someone opposes so passionately that he blinds himself. For all passions are
blinding, preventing the moral eye from perceiving the boundaries between
right and wrong, and even leading it to see good as evil, and evil as good.
This risk exists whenever opposition becomes a party affair, in other
words, when organized opposition emerges in an assembly which is deliber-
ating on public affairs. This is because it is in the nature of a party, whatever
its basis, to be partial, one-sided, unfair, uncharitable in both its judgements
and its behavior (which is the implementation of judgement). Opposition
then becomes systematic, though not in a scientific sense—indeed, in this
sense it becomes unsystematic, or in other words, inconsistent, because one
cannot remain true to either the principle of good or evil when one opposes
everything, whether good or ill, as long as it does not come from one’s own
party. Such behavior is self-contradictory. But this sort of opposition is sys-
tematic in party terms, because the party has made opposition its guiding
principle. The opposition man remains true to this maxim as long as he be-
longs to this party. Granted, such loyalty does not mean much. The histories
of all parliamentary dealings include examples of opposition men who left
the opposition party and switched to the rival which they formerly tena-
ciously battled.2
What is this rival? Obviously it is the government, even though it really is
not appropriate to label the government a “party,” since legally it should
stand above all the parties. But it is inevitable that wherever the opposition
assumes the form of a party, those who observe this fight will perceive the
embattled government to have a similar shape. And that is already a serious
problem, because the government is misperceived by the people. The people
should view the government as the supreme leader of their public affairs, the
highest authority in the state, the personification of state law and state
power, and they should respect it as such. But how can they do this, when
they see the government engaged in a battle with an enemy party, a party
which styles itself as doing everything for the people, and of battling the gov-
ernment solely for the people’s sake? Will the people not believe that the
government is also a party, and indeed a party that is hostile to the people,
 ON OPPOSITION PARTIES IN GERMANY AND ELSEWHERE 123

because the government is battling that party which—whatever its other

goals—pronounces itself to be the people’s friend?
Of course, this is certainly a bad situation. But it is unavoidable once a for-
mal opposition party arises in the legislature. The only question is how this
critical relationship may develop, and how the government should act against
such a party once this situation has appeared. In order to answer this question,
we first must distinguish between two courses which such a party may take.
On the one hand it can be directed exclusively at the various higher or-
gans of government, in other words, primarily at the ministers, who are the
top administrators. In this case the battle is less important and less danger-
ous, because it revolves around the ministerial positions alone. The ministers
in question will be able to defend themselves against all their opponents’ ef-
forts, and to keep their positions, if they are men of excellent talent and good
will, if their administrative practices strictly adhere to the constitution, if
they do not permit either themselves or their subordinates to misuse their
offices, if they select good men to carry out their directions, and if they also
have enough oratorical talent and adroitness to best opposition speakers in
parliamentary debates. If all this is the case, the ministers will find sufficient
sympathy and support among the representatives. They will not lack a ma-
jority when the representative assembly votes about important things, about
so-called life and death questions. The victory that they win in this way will
put them in a higher and more secure position. The opposition party will not
have hurt them, but will, instead, have helped them.
Things will clearly turn out differently if the ministers are not the kind of
men described above, if they lack talent, or willpower, or even both. If so,
they will sooner or later be in the minority, and will have to give up their
posts. Wherever representatives of the people hold governmental power
over legislation and taxation—in syncratic or representative forms of gov-
ernment—ministers are expected to have the majority of representatives on
their side in order to keep governing successfully at the top of the state bu-
reaucracy. This expectation is based on the assumption that the majority is
always right. Of course, this is a deceptive assumption, on account of which
it has been called a fiction ( fictio politica). The majority can be wrong; it can
even be possessed by an evil spirit—which actually is not so rare an occur-
rence. However, in public affairs, as in all human things, it sometimes is nec-
essary to resort to such assumptions: otherwise it would be impossible to
make any decisions.
If the opposition party has defeated the ministers in this way, the regent
will have no choice but to chose a new ministry from that party. That party
is the majority, and a ministry that was chosen from the minority would soon
suffer the same fate as the last one. At this point the roles are usually
124 WILHELM TRAUGOTT KRUG

switched. A new opposition party will soon form, because it is impossible for
all the members of the former opposition party to become ministers, and be-
cause it is impossible for the new ministers to satisfy all the demands of their
previous comrades in arms. A new opposition party will soon arise, formed
partly from the disssatisfied members of the old one, partly from the former
ministers and their supporters. As a result, many members of the former
ministerial party will become members of the new opposition party. This
produces another bad situation, because the battle for ministerial posts is not
over, but is only interrupted for a short period. If the opposition party once
again wins the upper hand during a renewed battle, the new ministers will
likewise be forced to resign. This can create such a frequent change of min-
isters that it can hurt public administration, and public welfare along with it.
For nothing is more harmful to the public service, and to the common good
that it supports, than when it lacks a steady course. But where should this
steadiness come from, if public servants do not have long enough to get to
know their business, or if they cannot hope to complete any important pro-
ject that they begin? Under such ministerial fluctuations much will be
started, but little completed. That which is completed will often be done
much too hastily, because ministers cannot expect to hold their offices for an
extended period.
But up to this point we have only considered the first type of case, in
which the opposition party directs its attack only at the higher organs of gov-
ernment, or at the ministers who are holding the tiller. Whatever problems
this may bring, by itself it does not endanger the legal order and public peace.
In this case things are kept within constitutional limits. Because the new
ministers come from an opposition party that respects the constitution, they
will themselves respect the constitution. Their own interests will incline
them to such respect, and also to maintaining the legal order and public
peace with which they are entrusted. Unless they do, they will never have a
quiet night’s rest during their official tenure, a period which will be suffi-
ciently difficult anyway.
But there is a second possibility, one which deserves much closer consid-
eration because it is much more dangerous. The opposition party can target
the constitution itself, and the form of government which the constitution
guarantees. When the latter is a hereditary monarchy, it can be directed
against the regent and the entire ruling family. Even someone who would like
to belong to such an opposition party will not deny that such an opposition
party has revolutionary tendencies, and that if it triumphs the legal order and
peace will eventually be disrupted. Such a person wants to reform the state,
to make the hereditary monarchy into an electoral empire, a so-called re-
public, or the other way around. In any case he wants to disrupt the existing
 ON OPPOSITION PARTIES IN GERMANY AND ELSEWHERE 125

legal order and peace for as long as it takes to introduce a new, and in his
opinion, better, order of things. Of course, once these changes are made he
wants order and peace to return, since only someone who is insane could
enjoy constant uproar and destruction.3
It is just as natural that the government tries to maintain itself and the ex-
isting order in the face of such an opposition party. Everything that exists
naturally has this drive—quaevis natura est conservatrix sui.4 Under the existing
constitution the government has the right and even the duty to do this, be-
cause it is enjoined by the constitution to rule constitutionally. As a result, it
may employ appropriate measures for this end. What are these measures?
The first and mildest is indubitably the dissolution of the chamber in
which an opposition party of this type seems to be about to gain a majority,
in other words, to get the weight on its side. It would be stupid to wait until
this has occurred, because at that point no remedy may be possible. With
such a dissolution the government appeals directly to the people, or rather,
to the respectable men who are called by the constitution and the respective
electoral law to elect representatives. They are supposed to employ their
conscience and the best information in order to chose only those who have
both insight and good will, who are free from impassioned partisanship, who
consider only the general welfare, and who therefore are as prepared to sup-
port the government when it makes sound proposals, as to vote against it
when it proposes something harmful.
If voters, or at least most of them, fulfill their duty, the power of the op-
position party is broken. Many of its members may be re-elected. Indeed,
this is not only possible, but likely, since there are also honorable men in the
opposition party, and they are all the more loved by the people the more they
are seen as the defenders of the people’s freedom. Even so, under the condi-
tions sketched above, the former opposition party will not be represented in
the same number and power as before, nor will it be either unified enough
or big enough to effect a revolution.
If, against all expectations, all the members of the former opposition party
are re-elected, and perhaps even new ones as well, an explosion is inevitable
unless a deus ex machina steps in—but they are as unreliable in politics as in dra-
maturgy. At this point the furies of anarchy, revolution, and civil war stand at
the door. At this point the goddess of true freedom, whose twin sister is legal
order, covers her grieving face. At this point unbridled impudence, raw vio-
lence, and the miserable right of the strong all run wild. They make it un-
likely that a good harvest can be gathered where blood and tears were sown,
or that a new and better order of things can emerge from political chaos.
It is for this reason that every man of honor, even an elected representative
who finds a reason for opposition, should refrain from joining an opposition
126 WILHELM TRAUGOTT KRUG

party, whatever name or banner it bears. By joining a party he sacrifices a piece

of his freedom, his political self-sufficiency and independence. He should
thus make it his unalterable maxim only to oppose on those occasions and to the extent
that the government seems to depart the path of justice, but otherwise to support it with all his
might. It is the duty of every good citizen to support the government in every-
thing that is just and allowable, and compatible with general welfare. How
much more, therefore, is it the duty of a good representative to do this, of
someone who is supposed to discuss and promote this general welfare along
with the government?

Notes

1. Rochus von Liliencron, ed. 1883. Allgemeine deutsche Biographie. Vol. 17. Leipzig:
Duncker and Humblot. Pp. 220–222. Walter Killy and Rudolf Vierhaus, eds.
Deutsche biographische Enzyklopädie. Vol. 6. Munich: K. G. Saur. P. 126.
2. Everyone must immediately be reminded of the famous British parliamen-
tary speaker Burke, who, once he had separated himself from the opposition
party of the time did not spare even Fox, who previously had been his most
intimate friend; instead, he fought him most bitterly.
3. A revolution can never be an end unto itself. It is always only a means for im-
plementing a new order of things. Once this is implemented, those who
started the revolution naturally attempt to maintain this order. They thus
work against those who want to start a new revolution because they are not
happy with the new order. This is why history teaches us that one revolu-
tionary often fights another, and that the most ardent revolutionaries usually
become the most wicked tyrants. Only think of Rienzi and Robespierre! For
this reason gradual improvements are preferable to sudden reversals.
4. [“every natural organism is its own preserver.”]
 CHAPTER 16

Evils and Dangers of

Parliamentary Government*
Henry George, Earl Grey
1858

The third Earl Grey (1802–1894) was a prominent figure in Whig party politics dur-
ing the first half of the nineteenth century. Such a role came naturally to this son of the
prime minister who had pushed through the landmark Reform Bill of 1832. From 1826
until his father’s death in 1845, Henry George sat as the Viscount Howick in the House
of Commons. After his elevation to the House of Lords, the new Earl Grey became leader
of the Whigs in that chamber. Though never prime minister himself, he held important
cabinet posts throughout much of the 1830s and 1840s. Thus, the following excerpt is the
work of a respected political insider, one who was well-acquainted with the workings of
parliamentary government. This chapter is taken from Parliamentary Govern-
ment considered with Reference to a Reform of Parliament, a volume
that reaffirmed the author’s commitment to traditional Whig principles. The essay re-
ceived wide notice in England and on the European continent when it was originally
published.1

A
mong the evils and dangers of our system of Parliamentary Govern-
ment, the worst are probably those which arise from its tendency to
encourage corruption,—including, under the general name of cor-
ruption, all the various methods which may be used to bias men from the
right exercise of their political power, and the honest discharge of their po-
litical duties, by appeals to their selfish interests. A tendency to corruption

*Henry George, Earl Grey. 1858. Parliamentary Government Considered with Reference to
a Reform of Parliament. London: Richard Bentley. Pp. 36–57.
S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties
© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
128 HENRY GEORGE, EARL GREY

in this sense of the word is the common evil of all free Governments. No
such Government, of which we possess a trustworthy account, has been ex-
empt from the taint, nor do I see any reason for believing that it has pre-
vailed to a greater degree in this country than elsewhere.
Without going back to ancient times, if we turn to the United States,
which stand next to ourselves in the list of nations possessing free Consti-
tutions, we shall find symptoms of the existence of corruption, not less ex-
tensive, and of a worse kind than here.2 We know, from the authentic
evidence of the laws passed against bribery at elections, that corruption in
this its most naked form is no more unknown in the United States than
among ourselves. The distribution of places in the public service for party
and personal objects, instead of with a view to the public interest, takes
place there to an extent and with a total absence of any attempt at conceal-
ment, which throws quite into the shade any such abuses of which we have
to complain. We are told that the accession to office of a new President, is
habitually followed by the immediate transfer of some thousands of places
from the former holders to his own adherents; and, what is yet worse, im-
putations have been freely made, not only of the abuse of their trust by pub-
lic servants in the United States, for the purpose of enriching themselves by
illicit gains, but also of such practices having been connived at for party pur-
poses. Money also is notoriously much used, in gaining the support of the
Press for measures calculated to promote the interests of individuals or of
parties; and it has even been asserted, and believed, that attempts to obtain
the passing of acts of legislation by directly purchasing the support of Mem-
bers of influence in Congress, or in the State Legislatures, have neither been
uncommon nor unsuccessful. No man believes that in this country the pass-
ing of an Act of Parliament could be obtained by the most profuse expen-
diture of money, in trying to gain the votes of Members of either House;
and the attempt to carry a Bill by such means would be so dangerous, that
it is not likely to be made.
But there is this peculiarity about Parliamentary Government, as com-
pared with other forms of free government, that in the latter, corruption is
as it were an accident,—very probably an accident which may always attend
them, but still an evil the entire extirpation of which, if it were possible,
would have no tendency to derange their working; whereas Parliamentary
Government derives its whole force and power of action from the exercise
of an influence which is at least very much akin to corruption. The posses-
sion and exercise, by the Ministers of the Crown, of a large measure of au-
thority in Parliament, is the foundation upon which our whole system of
government rests; while this authority has from the first been maintained
principally by means of the patronage of the Crown, and of the power vested
 EVILS AND DANGERS OF PARLIAMENTARY GOVERNMENT 129

in the Administration, of conferring favours of various kinds on its Parlia-

mentary supporters. Sir Robert Walpole’s Administration has become al-
most proverbial for its extreme corruption, and there is no doubt that he
retained the command of his majority in the House of Commons mainly by
corrupt means, among which were included the habitual use of direct money
bribes to Members of Parliament. But it seems pretty clear that, with respect
to corruption, the chief difference between Sir Robert Walpole and the
Ministers who preceded and followed him was, that he took less pains than
others to conceal the methods he employed for obtaining Parliamentary
support, and that the same methods continued long afterwards, to be as
largely and systematically used for the same purpose.
By degrees corruption ceased to be practised in the coarse form of money
bribes to Members of Parliament; but the same end was attained by jobs of all
kinds, perpetrated for the benefit of those who had influence in returning
Members of the House of Commons, and by the abuse of an enormous pa-
tronage, for their advantage. The arts by which this was accomplished, and by
which votes in the House of Commons were obtained, in return for favours
bestowed on Members themselves, their patrons, or constituents, were re-
duced to a regular system, and brought to a high pitch of perfection. This sys-
tem continued in full force up to the time of passing the Reform Act, in 1832.
By that measure, by the diffusion of education, and by the increasing power
of opinion, a great improvement in political morality has been effected. No
Minister would now dare to be guilty of the practices which were formerly
common, and favour is become a far less potent instrument of government
than it was. But it would be idle to deny, that it still continues to be one of the
chief sources of the moving force by which the action of the political machine
is maintained. The power which the Ministry of the day possesses of concili-
ating its Parliamentary supporters, by favours conferred upon them, either di-
rectly or indirectly, through their friends and constituents, is one of the
principal means by which the necessary authority of the Government in both
Houses of Parliament is supported. Parliamentary Government is essentially
a government by party, and one of the bonds by which all parties are kept to-
gether is that of the selfish interests of their adherents. Among all classes of
men who have any share of political power, whether they are Peers, Members
of the House of Commons, or electors, there are too many who allow consid-
erations of their private advantage, not those of the public good, to determine
what party they shall support. Electors, we know, are influenced sometimes by
actual bribes, or, what is much the same, by money’s worth, in the shape of
land or houses let to them below their value, sometimes by a wish to secure
the favour of those persons in their town or county who are most able to ad-
vance their interest. Others again, (often the local leaders of parties,) are led
130 HENRY GEORGE, EARL GREY

to take an active part in supporting this or that candidate for a seat in the
House of Commons, by the hope that, if they are successful, and if the party
they espouse is also successful in Parliament, they may expect, by the assis-
tance of the Member to whose return they have contributed, to enjoy a share
in the patronage of the Government.
Corruption is the more apt to prevail in this form, because it is difficult in
many cases to distinguish conduct which deserves to be branded with such a
reproach, from that which is free from blame. No just objection can be taken
to a man’s seeking employment in the public service, for himself, his friends
or relations, by honourable means; and he may fairly expect that his political
as well as his personal friends will assist him in doing so. Nor can those to
whom patronage is entrusted be reasonably censured for giving a preference
to their own political friends, in the appointments they make, so long as they
neither neglect any just claims to employment on the part of others, nor
place it in unworthy hands. It is when men support measures or a party
which their judgment condemns, for the sake of office, or when they make
appointments, knowing them to be wrong, from favour, or to purchase po-
litical support, that their conduct is to be regarded as corrupt. The same ac-
tions therefore may be corrupt or not, according to the motives from which
they spring; and thus men easily deceive themselves, not less than others, as
to the true character of what they do.
This helps to account for the fact, of which I fear there can be no doubt,
that the abuse of patronage for the sake of influence is both very common
and very injurious to the public interest; and it is through their constituents
that such influence is brought with most power to bear upon Members of the
House of Commons. Owing to the love of power and distinction natural to
men, there is so general a desire to have a seat in Parliament, and the com-
petition for seats is so keen, that few men can obtain them, except as the ad-
herents of some considerable party; and the candidates who can procure for
their supporters the favours which the Government has to confer, have a de-
cided advantage over their rivals. Thus there is established a chain of influ-
ence, from the elector to the Minister, which does not leave the latter at
liberty to use the patronage of the Crown with a single eye to the public
good, and which is apt to bias both voters and their representatives in the ex-
ercise of their respective political powers. The Minister cannot dispense
with Parliamentary support: to secure it, he must keep those from whom he
receives it in good humour; he cannot therefore resist their urgent applica-
tions for favours for their constituents, when they come recommended to
him by the Parliamentary Secretary to the Treasury. The Ministerial Mem-
ber, in his turn, must press on that important functionary the clamorous de-
mands of those who have influence in the county or borough he represents;
 EVILS AND DANGERS OF PARLIAMENTARY GOVERNMENT 131

and that his applications may be favourably listened to, he must be ready to
answer the calls which the same functionary, in his character of “Whip,”
makes for his vote on party questions.
But though it is undoubtedly true, that there never has been a Parliamen-
tary Administration which has not owed some part of its strength to the ex-
ercise of an influence more or less corrupt in its character, it is certain that
in these days (and probably it was true even in the worst times,) no Minister
can stand exclusively, or even principally, by such means; nor has corruption
so large a share as some cynical writers would make us believe, in carrying on
the government of this country. All Parliamentary parties have numbered in
their ranks many unscrupulous and self-interested adherents; and if the mo-
tives of men’s public conduct were strictly scrutinized, they would seldom be
found altogether free from some taint of selfishness. But admitting this to be
true, it is not less true that a love for their country, and a sincere desire to
promote what they believe to be its interests, have generally a very large share
(commonly, I hope, a principal share) in determining men’s choice of a po-
litical party. And when great occasions have arisen, a generous contempt of
their own individual interest, in competition with their public duty, has been
repeatedly shown by all ranks of our countrymen, from the leaders of parties,
to the humblest voter in some petty borough. It is when no great public
questions have been at issue, and when politics have degenerated into a
scramble among individuals for the honours and emoluments of office, that
corruption has chiefly prevailed.

[Grey uses historical examples to underscore his assertion that in periods when great political
questions have arisen, “parties have been formed and bound together far more by agreement and
sympathy on these subjects, than by the pursuit of selfish interests.”]

I have stated in the last Chapter, that one of the merits of this kind of gov-
ernment is, its tendency to make those contests for power which are in-
evitable amongst men, take the form of debates upon questions of policy, and
upon the measures affecting the interest of the Nation which are brought
before Parliament. These debates are thus rendered a valuable instrument
for enlightening the public mind; but with this advantage is unfortunately
united the great evil, that the same circumstance leads too often to questions
deeply affecting the welfare of the People being decided, not on their mer-
its, but according to their bearing on the interests of political parties. Mea-
sures are apt to be supported, or opposed, not because they are good or bad
in themselves, but because they have been brought forward by this or that
party; and nothing is more common than for a popular cry to be got up in
favour of some mischievous scheme, or against some useful proposal, merely
132 HENRY GEORGE, EARL GREY

for the purpose of overturning or giving strength to a Ministry. Many exam-

ples are to be found in our history, of bad measures having been carried, and
of good ones having been rejected or delayed, owing to this cause.
So also there are drawbacks from the advantages which I have stated in the
last Chapter, to arise from the practice of discussing questions of foreign pol-
icy in Parliament. The debates upon such subjects, instead of serving, as they
ought, to enlighten the Nation with respect to its duties and its true interests
in its relations with foreign countries, have sometimes become the means of
encouraging the most pernicious errors. Opponents of the Government, in-
stead of condemning its errors, have occasionally been guilty of attacking it
for having done right, or for not having gone far enough in a wrong policy, and
in asserting unreasonable pretensions against other Powers. Public men have
not always resisted the temptation of vying with each other in courting the
favour of the People, by flattering their passions and prejudices, instead of en-
forcing the principles of justice and a high standard of political morality.
An impartial consideration of the nature and effects of Parliamentary
Government, leads to a recognition of the evils I have pointed out in this
Chapter, as detracting in no small degree from its merits. At the same time,
in admitting these faults, it is to be observed that, for the most part, they be-
long to it in common with every other form of free Government, since they
arise mainly from the tendency of the People to misuse the power placed in
their hands. And, granting that there is this tendency in all free Govern-
ments, we must not forget, either that power, wherever it is placed, must al-
ways be liable to abuse; and that flatterers, for their own purposes, will try to
mislead those to whom it is entrusted; or that a long experience has proved,
that the abuses prevailing in despotic Governments have been far greater,
and far more injurious to the welfare of the People, than those to which po-
litical liberty gives rise under a well-regulated Constitution. If we compare
what has been the condition of the People under free and under arbitrary
Governments, in all ages of the world, we can have no hesitation, in spite of
their faults, in giving a preference to the former; and among these, we may
assert with confidence, that there is none in which evil has been found to be
mixed up with good in a smaller proportion than in our own system of Par-
liamentary Government.

Notes

1. Hugh Chisholm and J. L. Garvin, eds. 1926. Encyclopedia Britannica. 13th ed.
London: Encyclopedia Britannica. Vol. 2: 590: Leslie Stephen and Sidney
Lee. [1901] 1949. Dictionary of National Biography, supplement XXII. Reprint, Ox-
ford: Oxford University Press. Pp. 786–89.
 EVILS AND DANGERS OF PARLIAMENTARY GOVERNMENT 133

2. See M. de Tocqueville’s “Démocratie en Amérique,” Tremenheere on the Consti-

tution of the United States, etc.
 CHAPTER 17

A Plea for the Constitution*

John Austin
1859

The pamphlet from which this excerpt is taken is a response to Earl Grey’s book on par-
liamentary reform. Its author, John Austin (1790–1859),was a well-respected writer
and lecturer on jurisprudence. Austin’s thought was deeply influenced by German legal
scholarship, which he studied during several extended stays in Germany. Later, he spent
four years in France, only returning to England in the face of the revolution of 1848. The
events of that year contributed to the distrust of popular government that is evident
throughout this pamphlet, his final publication. In it, Austin highlights the dangers of
popular suffrage and warns against democratic reforms of parliament.1

I
t may indeed be affirmed, without hesitation, that of all the forms
which political corruption can take, the appointment to offices for
party purposes is incomparably the most pernicious. As the offices are
bestowed on the appointees with little or no reference to their official apti-
tudes, the government becomes inefficient and loses the respect of its sub-
jects. In all but the party leaders and their professional and place-hunting
partisans, the motive to the abuse of patronage is the social feeling of party
spirit; insomuch that the abuse has a stronger tendency than any form of cor-
ruption which is purely of selfish origin, to keep the public interests out of
the people’s sight, and to darken and pervert their notions of political right
and wrong. To this it may be added, that the grosser forms of corruption
(such, for example, as money bribes paid down to electors or representa-

*John Austin. 1859. A Plea for the Constitution. 2d ed. London: John Murray. Pp. 31–
36.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
136 JOHN AUSTIN

tives) are far less costly to the country than the abuse of political patronage.
The cost of the downright bribes is commensurate with their amount. But
the abuse of patronage leads to public establishments surpassing the wants of
the country; and far surpassing, in cost to the country, the proper cost of the
offices created for the purposes of corruption.
It will hardly admit of a doubt, that the political corruption produced by
universal suffrage in the United States, would be produced in the mother-
country by any elective franchise of a decidedly democratical character. The
constituencies would be the instruments of party leaders aiming at power
and distinction, and of lower professional partizans aiming at the emolu-
ments of office. Nor would the evil be limited in this country to the abuse
of political patronage and other less mischievous forms of political corrup-
tion. The class which has no property, and which is the worst fitted for po-
litical power, is not in this crowded country, as it is in the United States, a
comparatively small fraction of the entire population. The introduction of
universal suffrage or a low and illusory property qualification, would give
political ascendancy to the non-proprietary class, or to lower middle classes
influenced by it. In their contentions for power and distinction and for the
emoluments of office, the professional politicians, high and low, would
emulously flatter the multitude; and to extensive corruption in intensely
mischievous forms, would be added the evil of a House of Commons repre-
senting the multitude in their political and economical errors.
Before we dismiss the subject of political corruption, we must advert to a
theory advanced by Lord Grey (in his Essay on Parliamentary Government
[chapter 16])from which we are compelled to dissent. He seems to think that,
without corruption, or an influence approaching to it, our system of parlia-
mentary government could not possibly work; whereas, in free governments
of other forms, corruption is an accident which might possibly be separated
from them without stopping the movement of the state machine.
Till sound political knowledge be far more widely diffused than it has ever
been in any nation or age, our own government, like all other governments,
will be more or less corrupt. A government resting on the spontaneous at-
tachment of a people well acquainted with their political interests, would
have no need of partisans. But every government, however honest and wise,
which wants that broad and unfailing basis, must seek partisans amongst the
majority of its subjects, or amongst some smaller number by whom the ma-
jority is commanded or influenced. It, therefore, is strongly tempted, (if it be
not compelled), to buy supporters with public money or offices, or by other-
wise misapplying its powers. We cannot perceive that our own parliamentary
government differs essentially in this respect from governments of other
forms. The necessary inherence of corruption in that peculiar form, is a the-
 A PLEA FOR THE CONSTITUTION 137

ory which seems to have been suggested to Lord Grey by our system of par-
liamentary government as it existed in bygone times, and more particularly,
during the necessarily corrupt and unjustly decried administration of Sir
Robert Walpole. At that time, the government was substantially a narrow
aristocracy; to a great extent, the ostensible constituencies were commanded
or influenced by small knots of individuals: and, since the smallness of their
numbers rendered them corruptible, these virtual constituencies compelled
the administration to corrupt them. Wherever the electoral body is very
small, or very large but not sufficiently enlightened, the administration is
tempted, if it be not constrained, to resort to corruption. In the first case, the
electoral body sells itself; in the second, (as happens with the constituencies
in the United States), it is sold by the party leaders and the lower profes-
sional partisans who lead it by its prejudices and passions. In this country, the
temptation to resort to corruption, or the necessity for resorting to it, is
comparatively small. The constituencies (generally speaking) are too large to
be bought; and since the elective franchise (generally speaking) is not yet de-
cidedly democratical, they are less liable to be led astray by trading politicians
and agitators than the decidedly democratical constituencies in the United
States. There is reason to hope (if the present constitution of Parliament
should not be changed for the worse), that the improving political knowl-
edge and political morality of the public will gradually reduce the corruption
practised by the government to a comparatively insignificant amount; partly
by restraining the government when inclined to abuse its powers, and partly
by supporting it when using them honestly and wisely. Lord Grey himself ad-
mits in many passages of his Essay, that a great amelioration has thus been
brought about; and his admission conflicts with the supposition that corrup-
tion is necessarily inherent in our system of parliamentary government.
In assigning his reasons for the theory which we have just controverted,
he says that the parliamentary system is essentially a government by party;
and that one of the bonds by which parties are kept together is the selfish
interests of their adherents. By this argument, coupled with the scope of the
theory which it is designed to support, he seems to assume that the parlia-
mentary system is peculiarly a party government. He also seems to assume in
subsequent passages, that the efficiency of the system depends upon the ex-
istence of powerful and compact parties; and that the existence of such parties
depends upon the presence of great political questions. As the question of party
is a necessary portion of our outline, and can be best considered in the pre-
sent place, we will here shortly examine these three assumptions. We will
then touch upon the subject of party morality, the frequent departures from
it in recent times, and the dangers to the Constitution and the country with
which they are pregnant.
138 JOHN AUSTIN

So far are party and party government from being peculiar to our own
parliamentary system, that political society and government can hardly exist
without them. If a society were all but unanimously attached to its existing
political order, there would still be dissentients from the common opinion
and sentiment; insomuch that the vast majority would still be a party, and the
government which rested upon it would still be a party government. To in-
veigh against parties, (or coalitions of parties), considered simply as such, is
simply absurd. Whether a party (or a coalition of parties) be worthy of praise
or blame, depends on the common purpose by which its members are bound
together, and on the means by which the purpose is pursued. If the purpose
and the means are commended by public utility, or are not condemned by it,
the party is a laudable, or, at least, an innocent combination. But if the pur-
pose or the means conflict with the general good, (and especially if the mo-
tive to the combination be mere power and place), the party is worthy of all
the execrations which are often heaped upon parties without discrimination.
The support of a working majority in either House of Parliament (and es-
pecially of such a majority in the House of Commons) is a principal condi-
tion of an efficient Cabinet, and, therefore, of the efficient working of our
system of parliamentary government. In order, therefore, to the efficiency, or
even to the continuance of the system, there must be a party sufficiently
powerful and compact to afford the Cabinet for the time being efficient and
continuous support. If Parliament were permanently divided into many in-
significant parties, the continuance of the system would hardly be possible;
since each would be thwarted by all the rest, and the Cabinet leaning upon
it would be too feeble to govern.
There is, therefore, a necessity for party and party government; and also
for a party sufficiently powerful and compact to afford the Cabinet which it
favours efficient and continuous support. But is it necessary, in order to the
existence of such a party, that Parliament and the country should be divided
and agitated by great political questions; such, for example, as Catholic
Emancipation, Parliamentary Reform, or Free Trade? Now great political
questions naturally divide the country into great political parties; whilst in
the absence of such question, the country is naturally divided into many in-
significant parties determined by selfish objects or personal attachments and
enmities. But if this be true, it would seem that the country is in a dilemma
from which there is no escape. If the government is efficient, the country is
troubled by controversies dangerous to its peace and institutions: if the irri-
tating questions and the dangers with which they are pregnant are success-
fully resolved and obviated, the government becomes inefficient through the
dissolution of the parties which those questions had engendered and held
together. It is, however, to be hoped, (if the constitution of Parliament
 A PLEA FOR THE CONSTITUTION 139

should not be changed for the worse), that the country will be extricated
from this seemingly insoluble difficulty by the improving political knowledge
and political morality of the public. Great political questions are great evils.
They commonly spring from evils urgently crying for a remedy; they disturb
the peace and endanger the institutions of the country; and, by absorbing the
cares of the Cabinet and the thoughts of Parliament and the public, they are
great obstacles to political and social progress. If the advancement of the
public in political knowledge and morality should not be arrested, the exis-
tence of a party sufficient to support a Cabinet will not depend upon the
presence of dangerous and distracting controversies. The public utility of
giving to Cabinets a certain degree of stability, and of committing the ad-
ministration of the empire to the wisest and most upright statesmen, will se-
cure a working majority, in and out of Parliament, to a Cabinet deserving
confidence by capacity and public spirit.
For the moment, however, the settlement of the great questions which
formerly divided the country into great parties has been followed by threat-
ening consequences. Parliamentary parties, being less divided by distinct dif-
ferences of opinion on public interests, are more divided by selfish objects or
by personal attachments and enmities. In consequence of this, the warfare of
parliamentary parties has been lowered in spirit and tone. That of the party
leaders is prompted by personal rivalries rather than opposing convictions.
In their reckless contentions for popularity and power, they not only bow
too readily to popular illusions and caprices, but they seek to damage one an-
other in public estimation by mutual disparagements unworthy of their sta-
tion and breeding. If they should not desist from these undignified arts, our
public men will lose for themselves, and for the elevated classes to which
most of them belong, the respect and confidence of the country; and they
will endanger the political order to which we are all indebted for our match-
less security and freedom.

Notes

1. Wilfred Rumble. 1985. The Thought of John Austin. London: The Athlone Press.
 CHAPTER 18

Parties and the House of Commons*

Walter Bagehot
1867

The English Constitution presents what is still recognized as the classic description
of English parliamentary institutions in the nineteenth century. Its author, Walter
Bagehot (1826–1877), trained as a lawyer but made his living as a banker. In 1861 Bage-
hot became editor of the politically influential Economist, a periodical founded by his
father-in-law. Bagehot made several attempts to win a seat in the House of Commons,
all unsuccessful, so he never viewed parliamentary institutions as a true insider. Never-
theless, his contemporaries immediately accepted Bagehot’s account as a clear-eyed depic-
tion of the parliamentary system as it actually operated. These ideas, originally presented
as essays in The Fortnightly, were immediately collected and reprinted under the title
The English Constitution. In them Bagehot refutes notions of many earlier con-
stitutional theorists, asserting that there is no longer a separation of powers between the
monarch and the parliament, nor between the legislature and the executive; instead, the
parliamentary system fuses these powers, with the cabinet serving as the “buckle” joining
these parts of the constitution. In the essay from which the following excerpt is taken,
Bagehot attacks earlier critics of party government and argues that parties are essential
to the operation of parliamentary government.1

I
t may be said that the House of Commons does not rule, it only elects the
rulers. But there must be something special about it to enable it to do
that. Suppose the Cabinet were elected by a London club, what confusion
there would be, what writing and answering! “Will you speak to So-and-So,

*Walter Bagehot. 1867. The English Constitution. London: Chapman and Hill. Pp.
174–80.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
142 WALTER BAGEHOT

and ask him to vote for my man?” would be heard on every side. How the wife
of A. and the wife of B. would plot to confound the wife of C. Whether the
club elected under the dignified shadow of a queen, or without the shadow,
would hardly matter at all; if the substantial choice was in them, the confusion
and intrigue would be there too. I propose to begin this paper by asking, not
why the House of Commons governs well? but the fundamental—almost
unasked-question—how the House of Commons comes to be able to govern
at all?
The House of Commons can do work which the quarter-sessions or clubs
cannot do, because it is an organised body, while quarter-sessions and clubs
are unorganised. Two of the greatest orators in England—Lord Brougham
and Lord Bolingbroke—spent much eloquence in attacking party govern-
ment. Bolingbroke probably knew what he was doing; he was a consistent
opponent of the power of the Commons; he wished to attack them in a vital
part. But Lord Brougham does not know; he proposes to amend the parlia-
mentary government by striking out the very elements which make parlia-
mentary government possible. At present the majority of Parliament obey
certain leaders; what those leaders propose they support, what those leaders
reject they reject. An old Secretary of the Treasury used to say, “This is a bad
case, an indefensible case. We must apply our majority to this question.” That
secretary lived fifty years ago, before the Reform Bill, when majorities were
very blind, and very “applicable.” Now-a-days, the power of leaders over
their followers is strictly and wisely limited: they can take their followers but
a little way, and that only in certain directions. Yet still there are leaders and
followers. On the Conservative side of the House there are vestiges of the
despotic leadership even now. A cynical politician is said to have watched the
long row of county members, so fresh and respectable-looking, and mut-
tered, “By Jove, they are the finest brute votes in Europe!” But all satire apart,
the principle of Parliament is obedience to leaders. Change your leader if you
will, take another if you will, but obey No. 1 while you serve No. 1, and obey
No. 2 when you have gone over to No. 2. The penalty of not doing so, is the
penalty of impotence. It is not that you will not be able to do any good, but
you will not be able to do anything at all. If everybody does what he thinks
right, there will be 657 amendments to every motion, and none of them will
be carried or the motion either.
The moment, indeed, that we distinctly conceive that the House of Com-
mons is mainly and above all things an elective assembly, we at once perceive
that party is of its essence. There never was an election without a party. You
cannot get a child into an asylum without a combination. At such places you
may see “Vote for orphan A.” upon a placard, and “Vote for orphan B. (also
 PARTIES AND THE HOUSE OF COMMONS 143

an idiot! ! !)” upon a banner, and the party of each is busy about its placard
and banner. What is true at such minor and momentary elections must be
much more true in a great and constant election of rulers. The House of
Commons lives in a state of perpetual potential choice: at any moment it can
choose a ruler and dismiss a ruler. And therefore party is inherent in it, is
bone of its bone and breath of its breath.
Secondly, though the leaders of party no longer have the vast patronage
of the last century with which to bribe, they can coerce by a threat far more
potent than any allurement:—they can dissolve. This is the secret which
keeps parties together. Mr. Cobden most justly said, “He had never been
able to discover what was the proper moment, according to members of
Parliament, for a dissolution. He had heard them say they were ready to
vote for everything else, but he had never heard them say they were ready to
vote for that.” Efficiency in an assembly requires a solid mass of steady
votes; and these are collected by a deferential attachment to particular men,
or by a belief in the principles those men represent, and they are maintained
by fear of those men—by the fear that if you vote against them, you may
yourself soon not have a vote at all.
Thirdly, it may seem odd to say so, just after inculcating that party organ-
isation is the vital principle of representative government, but—that organ-
isation is permanently efficient, because it is not composed of warm
partisans. The body is eager, but the atoms are cool. If it were otherwise, par-
liamentary government would become the worst of governments—a sectar-
ian government. The party in power would go all the lengths their orators
proposed—all that their formulae enjoined, as far as they had ever said they
would go. But the partisans of the English Parliament are not of such a tem-
per. They are Whigs, or Radicals, or Tories, but they are much else too. They
are common Englishmen, and, as Father Newman complains, “hard to be
worked up to the dogmatic level.” They are not eager to press the tenets of
their party to impossible conclusions. On the contrary, the way to lead
them—the best and acknowledged way—is to affect a studied and illogical
moderation. You may hear men say, “Without committing myself to the
tenet that 3+2 make 5, though I am free to admit that the honourable mem-
ber for Bradford has advanced very grave arguments in behalf of it, I think I
may, with the permission of the Committee, assume that 2+3 do not make 4,
which will be a sufficient basis for the important propositions which I shall
venture to submit on the present occasion.” This language is very suitable to
the greater part of the House of Commons. Most men of business love a sort
of twilight. They have lived all their lives in an atmosphere of probabilities
and of doubt, where nothing is very clear, where there are some chances for
144 WALTER BAGEHOT

many events, where there is much to be said for several courses, where nev-
ertheless one course must be determinedly chosen and fixedly adhered to.
They like to hear arguments suited to this intellectual haze. So far from cau-
tion or hesitation in the statement of the argument striking them as an indi-
cation of imbecility, it seems to them a sign of practicality. They got rich
themselves by transactions of which they could not have stated the argu-
mentative ground—and all they ask for is a distinct, though moderate con-
clusion, that they can repeat when asked; something which they feel not to be
abstract argument, but abstract argument diluted and dissolved in real life.
“There seem to me,” an impatient young man once said, “to be no stays in
Peel’s arguments.” And that was why Sir Robert Peel was the best leader of
the Commons in our time; we like to have the rigidity taken out of an argu-
ment, and the substance left.
Nor indeed, under our system of government, are the leaders themselves
of the House of Commons, for the most part, eager to carry party conclu-
sions too far. They are in contact with reality. An Opposition, on coming
into power, is often like a speculative merchant whose bills become due.
Ministers have to make good their promises, and they find a difficulty in so
doing. They have said the state of things is so and so, and if you give us the
power we will do thus and thus. But when they come to handle the official
documents, to converse with the permanent under-secretary—familiar with
disagreeable facts, and though in manner most respectful, yet most imper-
turbable in opinion—very soon doubts intervene. Of course, something
must be done: the speculative merchant cannot forget his bills; the late Op-
position cannot, in office, forget those sentences which terrible admirers in
the country still quote. But just as the merchant asks his debtor, “Could you
not take a bill at four months?” so the new minister says to the permanent
under-secretary, “Could you not suggest a middle course? I am of course not
bound by mere sentences used in debate; I have never been accused of let-
ting a false ambition of consistency warp my conduct; but.” &c., &c. And the
end always is, that a middle course is devised which looks as much as possible
like what was suggested in opposition, but which is as much as possible what
patent facts—facts which seem to live in the office, so teazing [sic] and un-
ceasing are they—prove ought to be done.
Of all modes of enforcing moderation on a party, the best is to contrive
the members of that party shall be intrinsically moderate, careful, and almost
shrinking men; and the next best to contrive, that the leaders of the party,
who have protested most in its behalf, shall be placed in the closest contact
with the actual world. Our English system contains both contrivances: it
makes party government permanent and possible in the sole way in which it
can be so, by making it mild.
 PARTIES AND THE HOUSE OF COMMONS 145

Notes

1. St. John-Stevas, Norman. 1965. “Walter Bagehot: A Short Biography.” In

Norman St. John-Stevas, ed. The Collected Works of Walter Bagehot. Cambridge:
Harvard University Press. Pp. 29–83.
 CHAPTER 19

The Parliamentary Regime

and Parties in Italy*
Émile de Laveleye
1871

Émile de Laveleye (1822–1892) was a prominent professor at the University of Liège

who wrote primarily about economics, but who was also interested in politics in Belgium
and elsewhere. In this article, published in a widely read French journal, Laveleye turns
his attention to the conditions of government in the newly united Italy. Like any good
student of comparative politics, he considers what wider lessons can be drawn from the
Italian experience.1

F
rom any perspective Italy’s situation seems full of promise for the fu-
ture. Yet despite this, its most perceptive thinkers are profoundly dis-
turbed: they tell us that the parliamentary machine is not functioning
properly, that the government is unable to do the good that it would like to,
that the weakness of the parliamentary machine spreads deep discontent
throughout the country, and that profound dangers are to be feared if some
kind of serious reform does not move things in a better direction. The emi-
nent editor of the Antologia nuova, Monsieur Bonghi, and a distinguished
economist and former finance minister, Monsieur Scialoja, speak of a grave
malady that has endangered the wells of national life. Finally, Monsieur S.
Jacini, the former minister of public works, a writer who is as far-sighted as
he is moderate in all his judgements, raises a true alarm cry: “our country,
which is threatened by no external danger, and which is endowed with a very

*Émile de Laveleye. 1871. “Le Régime parlementaire et les partis en Italie.” Revue
des Deux Mondes 93: 92–104.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
148 ÉMILE DE LAVELEYE

robust constitution, seems to be threatened by a serious illness which has the

characteristics of advanced gangrene.”
Now if one asks these writers, who all know their country well, what is the
cause of this illness, they reply that it comes from the absence of political
parties. This is at first sight a surprising response, because foreigners gener-
ally think that Italy has all too many parties. Moreover, up to now there have
been constant complaints about the evils caused by parties, and no one has
ever expressed any regrets about their absence. This, then, is a novel case,
and it deserves closer attention from constitutional scholars who study the
theory of parliamentary government. In our opinion, the illness is not pecu-
liar to Italy. It also rages in other countries, notably in Spain and in Portugal.
However, we find it so well described by Messieurs Bonghi, Scialoja, and
Jacini that we think it most useful to turn to them to discover the principle
symptoms.
According to these writers, true political parties do not exist in Italy. There
are only unstable coteries, lacking either structures or programs. If you attend a
session in the legislature you will be told about the left and the right and the cen-
ter, and you will even be taught that there is a center right and a center left. How-
ever, such names signify nothing more than the place where certain deputies
tend to seat themselves. You will not get very far if you question further and
attempt to learn what distinguishes or divides these various groups of repre-
sentatives. Two other names also are frequently used to designate two parties
which often contend for power within the parliament, the permanente and the
consorteria. The permanente is made up of Piedmontese deputies, most of whom
formerly marched under Cavour’s banner. Since the capital was transferred
from Turin to Florence, they have been sulking, they are malcontent. They
form an intractable opposition which represents grudges more than princi-
ples. The consorteria is primarily recruited from among the deputies of central
Italy. Those who belong to this group correspond pretty well to those who
once were called the “doctrinaires” in France. They are the men of govern-
ment, who are moderately yet clearly liberal. However, nothing clearly distin-
guishes them from their colleagues. If the parties are designated by names
without precise meanings, it is because they do not have fixed doctrines. It is
just the same in Spain. Besides the republicans, who at least all favor a partic-
ular governmental model, there are progressives, unionists, democrats. All of
them support royalty, but are very divided, without it being possible to say ex-
actly what points divide them. In Madrid I tried in vain to find out what were
the general ideas which the one or the other defended. People cited individ-
ual names, recounted the origins of the parties, or told me about the various
leaders around which each rallied. But nothing was said about general princi-
ples. It was exactly the same in Lisbon.
 THE PARLIAMENTARY REGIME AND PARTIES IN ITALY 149

In order to have the formation of parties which are strong, consistent,

and able to impose a steady movement on the cogs of the constitutional
regime, there need to be differing views within the country about some
question which is of paramount interest to the nation as a whole. It is nec-
essary that this divergence should seize, indeed inflame, the public, and that
there should be a division into two opposing camps, each having its declared
program, its avowed aim, and its recognized leaders. The object of debate
must be of enough general interest that it leaves no one indifferent; it must
not, however, seriously question the foundations of society or the state, for
in this case the situation would be marching towards anarchy. In England
these types of great parties, which seem indispensable for the functioning of
the parliamentary system, are present as the Whigs and the Tories. For
more than a century they have vied for power, each remaining true to its
traditional program, and both in turn able to direct government with a firm
and skillful hand. Unfortunately, nothing comparable exists yet in Italy. It
seems that we ought at least to find those two big parties that are found just
about everywhere, the conservative party and the progressive party—in
other words, the group of those who, finding existing institutions to be
good, want to retain them, and the group who, finding them bad, or dream-
ing of a better order, want to change them on behalf of the larger part of so-
ciety. As the American historian Bancroft has aptly put it, the orderly course
of government in the political world is the product of the struggle between
these two tendencies, just as in the universe the orderly course of the plan-
ets is the product of the centrifugal force and the centripetal force.
Strangely, however, on the other side of the Alps there is not yet a true con-
servative party opposed by a party of progress.

[The author considers several explanations for why Italy lacks these two big parties. He argues
that since all the parties in Italy supported the revolution and liberation from Austria, no party
was truly conservative. For the same reason, there was no true left that was much more revolu-
tionary than the other parties. The Italian parties are divided on questions of finance and tax-
ation, but these are not divisions that are rooted in great principles.]

In sum, according to the best judges of the state of affairs in Italy, the nation
is unhappy. It is suffering because the constitutional machinery is not run-
ning well, and this does not run well because there are no strongly organized
parties. The fact that there is nothing that resembles parties can be traced
back to the two big questions that everyone thinks about: on the first, the de-
liverance of Venice and Rome, there was complete agreement; on the sec-
ond, the financial question, everyone disagreed. It will be very useful to study
more closely the case whose constitutional pathology has not yet been well
150 ÉMILE DE LAVELEYE

described, and to see how the absence of parties, usually considered to be a

good thing, in fact makes impossible the good administration of affairs in a
parliamentary government.

II.

The first symptom of the illness is the instability of governments. First there
is a parliamentary question followed by a ministerial crisis and a provisional
arrangement, then there is a new ministerial crisis, a provisional arrange-
ment and then a parliamentary question, with the same circle constantly re-
peating itself—this is how The Times once described the functioning of Italy’s
parliamentary regime. And unfortunately, the English paper is all too right.
All of the new kingdom’s governments have been very short-lived, and even
then each of their brief lives has been interrupted by crises, by transforma-
tions and reshuffles. What is even more unfortunate is that they do not fall
as a result of losing a vote; usually they retire when they still possess a suffi-
cient majority. Foreigners can seldom understand the causes of a ministerial
crisis in Italy, and even within the country you will be given ten different rea-
sons for it. It results from some kind of tension or from individual sensitivi-
ties, from some secret intrigue, from some demand for a position which
cannot be met, or from a thousand petty causes which have nothing to do
with the shock, or the relative balance of opinion within the parliament. It is
therefore very difficult to analyse them, to identify them, or even to guess
about them. A similar phenomenon is present in Spain and Portugal. It is as
difficult to understand the vicissitudes of government there as in Italy.
It is different in England and the United States. Two rival opinions fight
for the majority. They start out by developing their program. In America,
this preliminary operation is just about the most important one. Each party
calls what is known as a convention, which is to say delegates who meet in an
assembly, deliberate, and, after lively discussion, adopt a platform—in other
words, the principles which the party adopts as its own. Likewise, in Belgium
in 1846 the Liberal Party called a congress to adopt its platform; after that
came the choice of candidates, canvassing, the pursuit of voters’ support, and
finally the election. In England, where the true type of parliamentary gov-
ernment operates, the result of the election determines the majority, and the
majority brings into power the men who best represent the program which
prevailed. As long as the majority is unchanged, it is possible to say which
men are in power, and what program they will carry out. The only way a
party takes over the government is by having a majority, and it stays in place
 THE PARLIAMENTARY REGIME AND PARTIES IN ITALY 151

until the majority deserts it. The only way to give a parliamentary regime
power and efficacy is to have party government and majority government.
Things run entirely differently in Italy. First of all, the voters are left out
of the political struggles. The number of people who have the right to vote is
not large. It is only about 500,000 out of a population of 26 million inhab-
itants, and since at most half of those who are enfranchised vote, the pro-
portion of those who take an active part in political life is less than 1 out of
100 of the total population. It seems that the Italian bourgeoisie are still too
absorbed by their private interest or by local affairs to realize that their fate,
and the fate of their country, depends upon their participation in the elec-
toral battles. The same indifference is found among those who can aspire to
the honor of being elected. In the run up to elections the newspapers are full
of letters from men declining to be candidates. Many of the outgoing
deputies refuse to be re-nominated. Recently we have seen many men of
merit who hasten to take refuge in private life; these are men who should un-
derstand that they have a duty towards their country. The deputy’s high and
good service is not regarded as an honor to be fought for, but rather as a
heavy burden which those with the best qualities seek to escape. Even so,
there is no lack of candidates; indeed, there are too many of them. However,
since most of them do not represent great principles, or only represent some
small coterie, they do not crystallize major currents of opinion or prompt
useful debates, nor do they leaven thought. Instead, there are only petty
struggles for personal influence. The vote is fragmented, and there are sel-
dom clear majorities.
In each of the electoral colleges there are undoubtedly candidates who
label themselves, or who are called, progressives, conservatives, modernists,
governmentalists. However, none of them are united by a common program.
These names take on a different meaning in each region, in each province, in
each electoral district, according to the local interests which are to be de-
fended, or according to the candidates’ individual opinions. The result is that
once the election is over no one can say what shade of opinion will dominate
in the new legislature, or which men will come to power.
When a government rests on a majority which is united by solid ties of
shared and articulated opinions, and by a common program which the voters
demand to have implemented, the government can act vigorously, it can im-
pose reforms and demand that its members refrain from unorganized dissent,
it can impose strict discipline in the interests of victory and in the name of the
general interest. In other words, it can make its plans prevail, and can govern
as consequently and with as much forcefulness as the ministers of an absolute
monarch. The more intense the fight, the more pronounced the party divi-
sions, the more power a parliamentary government will have, because anyone
152 ÉMILE DE LAVELEYE

who deserts the government will be considered to be a traitor. The deputies,

restrained by the promises they made to their voters, and by the danger at-
tending every schism, cannot pursue their own devices, their individual am-
bitions, or local interests. In countries where the political situation has
created such subordination it is often decried, and is labelled servility; the
deputy who leaves the ranks and marches to his own drummer is praised. This
may be useful when it is done by an eminent intellectual, such as Monsieur
Mill, who in parliament, as in his books, sows ideas for the future, and whose
ideas are too original to fit exactly into established categories. However, as a
general rule, parties, like armies, need subordination, discipline, unity, loyalty
to the flag. This is the price of success in parliamentary fights just as on the
battlefield. This is the only way that constitutional government can accom-
plish its mission, and that the political honor of the deputies can make par-
liament be respected by citizens: this is what the Italian example makes clear.
In Italy there are incessant governmental crises. As Monsieur Jacini has
put it so well, Italian ministers look like phantasmagora: they assume office
and resign, are elevated, then overthrown by the protean game of personal
influence, by the constantly changing favor or hostility of tiny coalitions
which form or break up for no apparent reason, of volatile groups which are
always in the process of forming or decomposing. If it is necessary to form a
new government, the men who should play a role in it are not, as in England,
designated by the circumstances themselves and by the votes which led to the
fall of the deposed cabinet. It is not the case that the most competent are
chosen, or those who best represent the opinion which has triumphed. No, it
is necessary to include one person because he controls ten or twenty votes,
another because he will bring along the Venetians or the Sicilians, and a third
because he represents an interest which cannot be neglected. These types of
combinations, even when they bring together first rate men, cannot produce
a strong government, because they do not have strong support within the
legislature, and they do not share either common viewpoints or a common
reason for being in the government. If mediocre people are called to run
things, and are able to use all their faculties in the service of administration
and urgent reforms, they will probably do some good. If you put a Pitt or
Richelieu in their place, and if they had to concentrate on satisfying one per-
son’s ambition, counteracting another’s anger, preventing a government dis-
solution today, bringing back the malcontents tomorrow, and if they had to
constantly avoid the threat of collapse by a series of transactions, intrigues,
petty deals,—under circumstances even such men of genius will be reduced
to impotence. In this kind of situation, the slightest incident produces a po-
litical crisis. A deputy complains that the head of the cabinet did not salute
him with the deference which he deserves; another one is furious because he
 THE PARLIAMENTARY REGIME AND PARTIES IN ITALY 153

was not admitted to a governmental dinner; a third did not obtain the rail-
way for the town which elected him; a fourth did not get a medal for his
cousin; a fifth asked in vain that a port be located close to the fishing village
where he owns large properties: all are aggrieved; each joins with several
friends, a coalition forms, and the government is shaken or overthrown.
Begging deputies are the plague of weak administrations. They pester the
ministries trying to obtain jobs and favors of every sort for their electoral
district or their voters, and they threaten to join the opposition if they are
rebuffed. Since they have control over several votes in the legislature, or may
be heads of some small groups, they cannot be ignored. They are needed for
the passage of some important legislation. The interest of the state is at
stake: it is therefore necessary to accede to their importuning. A government
without a partisan majority is at the mercy of all ambitions, all interests, all
grudges.
One result of the frequent changes of government is that about sixty for-
mer ministers sit in the Italian parliament. They form, in the inspired
words of Monsieur Scialoja, fallen dynasties, pretenders to power who as-
pire to return for the good of the country, of which they naturally believe
themselves to be the best judges. Among the former ministers, it is not the
party leaders who create the biggest disturbances; they are more to be re-
proached for too much indifference than for excessive ambition. The prob-
lem is the secondary men who want to climb into the first tier, not by virtue
of their talents, but by intrigue. The word intrigue does not necessarily de-
note something bad. When an assembly lacks a group of men who can be
moved to work together by invoking certain grand principles, all that re-
mains is a series of combinations, concessions, and tricks that are employed
to secure passage of some measure. The spirit of intrigue will be indispens-
able for putting the parliamentary mechanism into motion; it will be even
more necessary than eloquence or knowledge.
This situation produces a regrettable result. In the first place, the truly su-
perior statesmen are disgusted by political life in which carrying out the re-
forms the country needs would take not the great qualities that they possess,
but rather the petty strategems that they disdain. This is the reason, for in-
stance, that Messieurs Ricasoli and Peruzzi talk about retiring. Noble ambi-
tions cool; petty ambitions make a career. To govern one’s country with a
view to its prosperity and grandeur is undoubtedly the most noble way to use
human talents, and to aspire to accomplish such a mission is a laudable and
beneficent ambition. But such a role is only possible under an absolutist gov-
ernment or in a constitutional government controlled by great political par-
ties. In the absence of such great parties, the struggle for ministerial
portfolios is about satisfying vanity, or about the interests they will secure.
154 ÉMILE DE LAVELEYE

Rivalries which are always active and engaged in battle, always seeking sup-
porters in order to come to power, prevent a strong cabinet from lasting and
impede the execution of any great plan.
Ministerial instability also makes the cogs of administration run irregu-
larly. Ministers barely have time to get initiated in the affairs of their de-
partment. As a result, they remain dependent on their subordinates. These
do not have much respect for the shades that are passing through, and they
make the ministers do as they please. They pay more attention to those who
are about to come to power than to those who hold it now and will soon lose
it. A minister who is always on the verge of toppling can never make his ideas
prevail over the routines of bureaucracy, and can never command obedience
of those in the hierarchy who are below him. Political impotence can pro-
duce a malady that is almost as great: administrative inertia, or disarray.

[Laveleye asserts that another problem in Italy is the excessive regionalism that deprives the na-
tion of the best ideas and the best people.]

The instability and weakness of successive governments can only aggra-

vate the financial situation, and makes the use of any kind of energetic rem-
edy impossible. Almost every year the growing needs of the treasury and the
overwhelming deficit make it necessary to establish new taxes. The new
taxes aggravate discontent, and provoke an increasingly active opposition.
This opposition, which does not propose any practical measures for getting
out of this difficulty, can only further weaken the government, whoever this
happens to be. The country thus finds itself trapped in a vicious circle, and
no one seems to know how to get out of it.
There is one even more undesirable consequence. The nation loses confi-
dence in a regime that functions so badly. Since the public does not see why
certain men come to power and why others are obliged to leave it, it begins
to view the parliament as nothing more than an arena in which those with
ambition fight for portfolios and positions. Because the people do not per-
ceive there to be a fertile and elevated struggle of two great parties, they be-
lieve that it is not opinions but appetites which are contending. This is why
accusations of corruption are so widespread and so easily believed. Un-
doubtedly, there have been some reprehensible actions, but which country is
irreproachable enough in this regard to cast the first stone at Italy? It is
surely not the Russian empire, with its despotic regime, nor the democratic
republic of the United States. When one recalls the morality of state em-
ployees in most parts of Italy in the past, particularly in the Kingdom of
Naples, one can affirm that the new regime has brought about a great im-
provement, almost a complete renewal. Nevertheless, the public is distrust-
 THE PARLIAMENTARY REGIME AND PARTIES IN ITALY 155

ful. It sometimes believes the most absurd tales. In this way parliament loses
the authority and respect which it should have.

Notes

1. Michel Dumoulin. 1979. La Correspondance entre Émile de Laveleye et Marco

Minghetti. Brussels: Institute Historique Belge de Rome.
 CHAPTER 20

Parties and Party Groups (I)*

Heinrich von Treitschke
1871

Heinrich von Treitschke (1834–1896) was one of the most famous German historians
of his day. He was an ardent nationalist whose publications and lectures enthusiastically
supported German unification. From 1871 to 1884 Treitschke served in the Reichstag of
the newly unified Germany, sitting first as a National Liberal and later as an indepen-
dent. He spent the last 20 years of his academic career in Berlin, where he actively par-
ticipated in academic feuds on the side of the anti-socialists and anti-Semites. The
following piece originally appeared a few months after German unification was
achieved, and before the election of the first all-German Reichstag. Treitschke’s passion-
ate nationalism is evident here in his rejection of partisan feuds on the grounds that these
would divide the nation. It also permeates his criticism of those who suggest that English
parliamentary and party politics should serve as a model for Germany.1

T
here is a wide-spread complaint that our parties are still in diapers,
that they are the weakest side of German public life. A thousand
hopes are uttered on this subject, but few of them are well thought
out. A theoretical discussion is unavoidable if we want to reach a clear ver-
dict on this issue. It is necessary to destroy some illusions that only lead to
useless disharmony—and above all, to the overestimation of parties them-
selves. The time has long past when a Baco could see partisan activity only
as a tool in the personal quest for honor, and could unashamedly say that the
subordinate who is on the way up should join a party, whereas the leader

*Heinrich von Treitschke. 1903. “Parteien und Fraktionen.” In Historische und

Politische Aufsätze. Vol. 3, 6th ed. Leipzig: Verlag von S. Hirzel. Pp. 581–590.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
158 HEINRICH VON TREITSCHKE

who is enjoying power and riches no longer needs such crutches. Today
there are only a few people who retain the anxious, policemen-like, fears of
times past, which saw party divisions simply as an evil that endangered the
state. We all know that party activity is a necessity for free peoples. It is in-
dispensable for creating a common will out of the clamor of interests, pas-
sions, and opinions, and for giving order and organization, and therefore
power, to individual wills; it gives the state stability through the thrust and
counter-thrust of the thus assembled powers. The sins of public party bat-
tles are no uglier than the hidden power games that surround the rulers of
unfree states, and these sins are fully offset by the resulting freer movement
of the state, and by the strengthening of individual character. The pressure
to advocate publicly a particular opinion, and simultaneously to subordinate
personal preferences to a shared goal, is a schooling in courage and disci-
pline for mediocre people. However, parties do not deserve any higher
praise than this.
The English view is that only party government counts as free govern-
ment. It designates parties as the mark of freedom, “the very life-blood of
freedom.” This is a national prejudice derived from the experiences of a sin-
gle state; it is not a generally valid truth. Every party is one-sided. Because
it only encompasses a part of the citizens, it only comprehensively values a
part of the forces that animate national life. By its very nature a party seems
to be limited and ungenerous in comparison with the state’s impartial ad-
ministration of justice. It seems to be a transitory creature in comparison
with the community’s enduring order. Strong, large, parties are by no means
always a sign of political health; instead, they frequently are the product of
disease, of unbearably bad circumstances which compel united resistance.
The partisan spirit often governs most strongly in stagnant eras; it is pre-
cisely in such periods that public life is overwhelmed by hatred against those
who think differently. In Prussia, at least, partisan hatred was never more
intense than under the Manteuffel’s miserable government, when democ-
racy withdrew in disgust from all political work, the Conservatives spoke
constantly about the “red ghost,” and when someone who aspired to get
ahead could secure his career with a dissertation, “On the democratic ill-
ness.” It is characteristic of the immature youth to dedicate to a party the
idealistic enthusiasm which a mature man feels only for the Fatherland. Just
so many a young enthusiast climbed up to the grandstands of Leipzig’s
streets, joyfully expecting that from there he would watch tyranny’s servants
being completely crushed by the men of freedom—and indignantly climbed
down again, because he had to see how Cato and Ceasar, Cicero and Cati-
line, after first pronouncing fundamental truths to each other, were then
quite happy to overturn basic rights. We can observe a process in the lives
 PARTIES AND PARTY GROUPS (I) 159

of most great statesmen and important political thinkers, whereby they

gradually outgrow the chains of party spirit and in their mature years regard
party with a certain irony. Historical assessments also put little weight on
statesmen’s party loyalties. The experienced old Wachsmuth exaggerates
only a bit when, in his fact-filled “History of Political Parties,” he concludes
that parties have not been affected by the laws of historical development:
today they are still as good and bad as they ever were. The modern world is
more civilized, but not more moral, than in the past. The milder customs of
Christianity stamp a certain refinement on party battles, and slightly re-
strain violent tendencies. But they do not extinguish bad passions. Parties
which owe their existence solely to ignorance or common envy will always
reappear, even in highly civilized countries.
People like to praise the present day because its parties have become
freer, more self-aware, more principled. It certainly is true that the power
of theory is one of the main traits of modern history. Today political theory
is more deeply involved in the transformation of party life than in previous,
more naive, periods. However, theory seldom can build up a party unless it
conforms to the interests of a social power. In other words, the interests of
social classes are much more firmly intertwined with party theories than the
parties themselves admit. No neutral observer can deny, and none can con-
demn, that the interests of large landowners, the “land-interest,” are promi-
nent in the Conservative’s doctrines, just as on the other side the interests
of disposable wealth are central in liberal theories. Whenever a German
Reichstag convenes, our radical tabloids try to calculate how many more no-
bles there are on the right of the house, or academics on the left. In its naive
vanity the middle class always rejoices at the perpetual over-representation
of the “intelligentsia” among Liberals. In truth, such calculations only rein-
force the fact that social differences still play a very important role in our
party life, and that democracy is fooling itself when it claims it will be just
to all classes. Today, just as a thousand years ago, the moving force of parti-
sanship is not a point of view, but the drive to rule. It is not the “idem sentire
de republica”2 which brings the parties together, but rather the “idem velle.”3 In
this battle for power the hard and vulgar forces of human nature always as-
sert themselves.
Anyone who considers this objectively will abandon the search for a per-
fect party. A party of “German men” which encompassed all of the nation’s
clear-headed politicians, and which only had to fight against the doctrinaire
and the egotistical, would not be a party. Such a futuristic party, which so
many well-intentioned people now desire, would stand above the parties. In
periods of greatest need a genius like Cavour could succeed in surrounding
himself with all the sound forces of his country. He forced the parties to deny
160 HEINRICH VON TREITSCHKE

themselves for a short period, to forget their particular goals for the sake of
Italy. But normally only a few highly talented and self-confident men can be
expected to show such self-denial, such powerful feelings for the state. A
party that is national in the full meaning of the word cannot possibly last.
The health of parliamentary life requires that there be a certain internal bal-
ance of partisan differences.
People have often tried to identify natural parties, to trace the endless di-
versity of party formations back to a single, eternally reappearing, contrast of
circumstances and viewpoints found within human nature. The political
thinkers of England and America, who tend to view Anglo-Saxon public life as
exemplary, almost unanimously pay tribute to a doctrine that was recognized
by the insightful German-American Lieber, and spread by Macaulay’s glowing
account of it. According to this doctrine, the drive to “freedom and progress”
reigns in one part of humanity; in another part it is respect for “authority and
antiquity.” This contradiction is at the root of all party life: all world history ap-
pears to be a monstrous duel between Whigs and Tories. German readers must
see at once the self-deception which arises from this view. It is not the oppo-
sition between piety and the love of the new which unites the party of the En-
glish nobility: this forms only one, and by no means the most important, of the
thousand of societal differences which produce party divisions.
As much respect as I have for J. C. Bluntschli, I do not find that this En-
glish perspective has become more convincing since it was more fully elabo-
rated by Friedrich Rohmer and Bluntschli. Rohmer picturesquely asserts that
a four-fold party division is rooted in human nature: radicalism is conviction
of the boy, the young man is a liberal thinker, the mature man a conservative,
the old man an absolutist. According to this, only the nineteenth century has
succeeded in creating truly political, principled parties. Every page of history
contradicts this doctrine, which appears to me to be sufficiently refuted by
Cromwell the boy and Richelieu the old man. Were this doctrine to be ten-
able, radicalism would have to be the dominant sentiment of young nations,
something which flies in the face of all historical experience—and radicalism
could never come to power in a mature nation, which again is contradicted by
historical events. The study of the state requires thoughts, not comparisons:
how is it helped by a game of images that is just as arbitrary as the once
beloved bad habit of the natural philosophers, that of comparing the state
with the human body? In such games of fantasy, all attempt at proof ceases.
Similarities are easy to find: with the same nice words one can declare the
King to be the state’s head or heart, or even the index finger. Cannot every
partisan of modest wit use Rohmer’s images for his own party purposes, and
thus without incurring any costs have the pleasure of considering himself to
be the true man, and all his opponents to be old men and children?
 PARTIES AND PARTY GROUPS (I) 161

[Treitschke continues on the same theme, arguing that it is a scholastic error to try to force ever-
changing parties into strict scientific categories. A party’s character as conservative or radical
changes according to circumstances or issues.]

Partisanship is pathological when it is founded on personal passions, theoret-

ical obstinacy, or memories of an antiquated past. It is natural when struggles
revolve around the most important actual tasks which the state must under-
take in the near future. In an emerging state, struggles over closer or looser
union necessarily dominate all other party differences. The party battle
threatens to destroy the state when it rallies class against class, or province
against province. Healthy party life should cut across all classes and all regions.
Partisanship threatens internal peace as long as the struggle involves the
foundations of the state or the law. Partisanship becomes milder, and at the
same time more useful, when parties recognize a common foundation of law,
and when they manifest a vital attachment to the state which moderates their
particularist spirit. It is most likely to be good for the state when the struggle
limits itself to a small number of important political questions. It is always un-
fortunate to have small class-based or religious parties which thrust them-
selves and their specific interests between the primary, appropriate
differences which divide parties. They adulterate party strife, and their un-
predictable behavior makes their disputes more intractable. These and simi-
lar paltry sentences are all that theory has to say [about parties]. Parties are
temporary structures of public life; they are created and destroyed in quick
succession by the free forces of popular opinion. They do not orient them-
selves to doctrinaire rules or to foreign models. They are unplanned tempo-
rary creations which are the true mirror of public and national life. In times
when the old order decays and no one is seriously advocating anything, and
when great new goals for political work have yet to be found—in such times
of great and thorough upheaval, such as Germany is experiencing today, no
power in the world can form strong parties. In contrast, in periods when the
masses are drawn together by a great and passionately desired purpose, no
moralist can calm the unleashed partisan hatred.

Notes

1. Georg Iggers. 1971. “Heinrich von Treitschke.” In Deutsche Historiker, vol. 2,

Hans-Ulrich Wehler, ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. Pp.
66–80.
2. [“shared feeling about the republic”]
3. [“wanting the same thing”]
 CHAPTER 21

Responsible Party Government*

Woodrow Wilson
1885

Future U.S. President Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924) wrote the study of congressional
government from which this is taken as his doctoral thesis for Johns Hopkins University.
Wilson’s interest in British politics is clearly evident in the book’s prescription to improve
American politics by changing relations between the President and Congress. Though
political parties are only a secondary topic of concern for Wilson in this book, he does en-
dorse the idea of what came to be known as the doctrine of responsible parties, the notion
that voters should be able to use elections to choose between parties that stand for differ-
ing principles and policies. The first excerpt below comes from a chapter on the House
of Representatives, the second from a chapter on the federal executive.

L
ooking at government from a practical and business-like rather than
from a theoretical and abstractly-ethical point of view,—treating the
business of government as a business,—it seems to be unquestionably
and in a high degree desirable that all legislation should distinctly represent
the action of parties as parties. I know that it has been proposed by enthusi-
astic, but not too practical, reformers to do away with parties by some leg-
erdemain of governmental reconstruction, accompanied and supplemented
by some rehabilitation, devoutly to be wished, of the virtues least commonly
controlling in fallen human nature; but it seems to me that it would be more
difficult and less desirable than these amiable persons suppose to conduct a
government of the many by means of any other device than party organiza-

*Woodrow Wilson. 1885. Congressional Government: A Study in American Politics. Boston:

Houghton Mifflin. Pp. 97–102; 267–269.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
164 WOODROW WILSON

tion, and that the great need is, not to get rid of parties, but to find and use
some expedient by which they can be managed and made amenable from day
to day to public opinion. Plainly this cannot be effected by punishing here
and there a member of Congress who has voted for a flagrantly dishonest ap-
propriation bill, or an obnoxious measure relating to the tariff. Unless the
punishment can be extended to the party—if any such be recognizable—with
which these members have voted, no advantage has been won for self-gov-
ernment, and no triumph has been gained by public opinion. It should be de-
sired that parties should act in distinct organizations, in accordance with
avowed principles, under easily recognized leaders, in order that the voters
might be able to declare by their ballots, not only their condemnation of any
past policy, by withdrawing all support from the party responsible for it; but
also and particularly their will as to the future administration of the govern-
ment, by bringing into power a party pledged to the adoption of an accept-
able policy.
It is, therefore, a fact of the most serious consequence that by our system
of congressional rule no such means of controlling legislation is afforded.
Outside of Congress the organization of the national parties is exceedingly
well-defined and tangible; no one could wish it, and few could imagine it,
more so; but within Congress it is obscure and intangible. Our parties mar-
shal their adherents with the strictest possible discipline for the purpose of
carrying elections, but their discipline is very slack and indefinite in dealing
with legislation. At least there is within Congress no visible, and therefore no
controllable party organization. The only bond of cohesion is the caucus, which
occasionally whips a party together for coöperative action against the time
for casting its vote upon some critical question. There is always a majority
and a minority, indeed, but the legislation of a session does not represent the
policy of either; it is simply an aggregate of the bills recommended by Com-
mittees composed of members from both sides of the House, and it is known
to be usually, not the work of the majority men upon the Committees, but
compromise conclusions bearing some shade or tinge of each of the vari-
ously-colored opinions and wishes of the committee-men of both parties.
It is plainly the representation of both parties on the Committees that
makes party responsibility indistinct and organized party action almost
impossible. If the Committees were composed entirely of members of the
majority, and were thus constituted representatives of the party in power,
the whole course of congressional proceedings would unquestionably take
on a very different aspect. There would then certainly be a compact oppo-
sition to face the organized majority. Committee reports would be taken to
represent the views of the party in power, and, instead of the scattered, un-
concerted opposition, without plan or leaders, which now sometimes sub-
 RESPONSIBLE PARTY GOVERNMENT 165

jects the propositions of the Committees to vexatious hindrances and de-

lays, there would spring up debate under skillful masters of opposition,
who could drill their partisans for effective warfare and give shape and
meaning to the purposes of the minority. But of course there can be no
such definite division of forces so long as the efficient machinery of legis-
lation is in the hands of both parties at once; so long as the parties are min-
gled and harnessed together in a common organization.
It may be said, therefore, that very few of the measures which come before
Congress are party measures. They are, at any rate, not brought in as party
measures. They are indorsed by select bodies of members chosen with a view
to constituting an impartial board of examination for the judicial and thor-
ough consideration of each subject of legislation; no member of one of these
Committees is warranted in revealing any of the disagreements of the com-
mittee-room or the proportions of the votes there taken; and no color is
meant to be given to the supposition that the reports made are intended to
advance any party interest. Indeed, only a very slight examination of the
measures which originate with the Committees is necessary to show that
most of them are framed with a view to securing their easy passage by giving
them as neutral and inoffensive a character as possible. The manifest object
is to dress them to the liking of all factions.
Under such circumstances, neither the failure nor the success of any pol-
icy inaugurated by one of the Committees can fairly be charged to the ac-
count of either party. The Committee acted honestly, no doubt, and as they
thought best; and there can, of course, be no assurance that, by taking away
its congressional majority from the party to which the greater number of the
committee-men belong, a Committee could be secured which would act bet-
ter or differently.
The conclusion of the whole matter is, then, that public opinion cannot
be instructed or elevated by the debates of Congress, not only because there
are few debates seriously undertaken by Congress, but principally because no
one not professionally interested in the daily course of legislation cares to
read what is said by the debaters when Congress does stop to talk, inasmuch
as nothing depends upon the issue of the discussion. The ordinary citizen
cannot be induced to pay much heed to the details, or even to the main prin-
ciples, of law-making, unless something else more interesting than the law it-
self be involved in the pending decision of the law-makers. If the fortunes of
a party or the power of a great political leader are staked upon the final vote,
he will listen with the keenest interest to all that the principal actors may
have to say, and absorb much instruction in so doing; but if no such things
hang in the balance, he will not turn from his business to listen; and if the
true issues are not brought out in eager public contests which catch his ear
166 WOODROW WILSON

because of their immediate personal interest, but must be sought amidst the
information which can be made complete only by reading scores of newspa-
pers, he will certainly never find them or care for them, and there is small use
in printing a “Record” which he will not read.

[In a later chapter Wilson writes about how parties shape relations between the president and
Congress.]

It is this constant possibility of party diversity between the Executive and

Congress which so much complicates our system of party government. The
history of administrations is not necessarily the history of parties. Presi-
dential elections may turn the scale of party ascendancy one way, and the in-
termediate congressional elections may quite reverse the balance. A strong
party administration, by which the energy of the State is concentrated in the
hands of a single well-recognized political organization, which is by reason
of its power saddled with all responsibility, may sometimes be possible, but
it must often be impossible. We are thus shut out in part from real party
government such as we desire, and such as it is unquestionably desirable to
set up in every system like ours. Party government can exist only when the
absolute control of administration, the appointment of its officers as well as
the direction of its means and policy, is given immediately into the hands of
that branch of the government whose power is paramount, the representa-
tive body. Roger Sherman, whose perception was amongst the keenest and
whose sagacity was amongst the surest in the great Convention of 1787, was
very bold and outspoken in declaring this fact and in proposing to give it
candid recognition. Perceiving very clearly the omnipotence which must in-
evitably belong to a national Congress such as the convention was about to
create, he avowed that “he considered the executive magistracy as nothing
more than an institution for carrying the will of the legislature into effect;
that the person or persons [who should constitute the executive] ought to be ap-
pointed by, and accountable to, the legislature only, which was the deposi-
tory of the supreme will of the society.” Indeed, the executive was in his
view so entirely the servant of the legislative will that he saw good reason to
think that the legislature should judge of the number of persons of which
the executive should be composed; and there seem to have been others in
the convention who went along with him in substantial agreement as to
these matters. It would seem to have been only a desire for the creation of
as many as possible of those balances of power which now decorate the “lit-
erary theory” of the Constitution which they made that prevented a uni-
versal acquiescence in these views.
 RESPONSIBLE PARTY GOVERNMENT 167

The anomaly which has resulted is seen most clearly in the party relations
of the President and his Cabinet. The President is a partisan,—is elected be-
cause he is a partisan,—and yet he not infrequently negatives the legislation
passed by the party whom he represents; and it may be said to be nowadays
a very rare thing to find a Cabinet made up of truly representative party men.
They are the men of his party whom the President likes, but not necessarily
or always the men whom that party relishes.
 CHAPTER 22

The Price of Party Government*

William S. Lilly
1900

William Samuel Lilly (1840–1919) was a lawyer who worked for several government de-
partments before becoming secretary to the Catholic Union of Great Britain. He wrote
books and essays on topics ranging from politics to morals to Catholic teachings. In this
essay, published in a well-respected journal of literature, the arts, and contemporary af-
fairs, Lilly describes some of the problems with party-based government. His sharp crit-
icism makes clear that partisan politics was not universally embraced at the start of the
twentieth century, even in the country that many held up as the inventor of the idea of
party government.1

W
hat is the price which the nation pays for [Party Government]? The
price may be stated in eight words: “The complete subordina-
tion of national to party interests.” The complete subordination. I
use the adjective advisedly. Party interests are not only the first thought of
politicians in England, but, too often, the last and the only thought. The ob-
ject they ever set before themselves is to keep or win office. Their eyes are
constantly fixed upon the constituencies. Hence their policy on all occasions
is a hand-to-mouth policy: to follow the line of the least resistance: to let
alone (in Lord Melbourne’s phrase) everything that can be let alone: to fence
with difficulties instead of grappling with them: never to commit themselves
if they can help it: to scuttle rather than to advance. They are always playing
to the gallery. They are always hampered by the fear of losing votes—as the

*William S. Lilly. 1900. “The Price of Party Government.” Fortnightly Review 73:
925–932.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
170 WILLIAM S. LILLY

Duke of Devonshire has recently confessed, with a candour which is posi-

tively winning. And so the action of Government is paralysed in all depart-
ments of the State. The really burning questions—the questions which touch
the most vital interests of the nation, of the Empire—are shelved.

[Lilly backs his argument by giving several examples of problems with the way party govern-
ments are handling current domestic and foreign policy problems.]

But I shall be told that Parliamentary Parties are essential to the working of
representative institutions; that if you vest supreme power in an assembly of
some seven hundred men, you must have “great coherent disciplined organ-
isations”; that if the House of Commons is to retain its present position in
the State “parties are not merely expedient but absolutely necessary”; that it
might exist without parties, as in fact it did for centuries, if it were merely a
legislative body, but that without them it “could not be safely entrusted with
the virtual government of the country.” That is the defence of Party Gov-
ernment usually made by its more thoughtful apologists, of whom Mr.
Lecky—for the argument is his—may be taken as one of the most distin-
guished. It involves weighty questions, too numerous and complex to be
dealt with here, except in the baldest outline. “Representative institutions,”
for example. What do they represent? The true theory unquestionably is that
they should represent all the factors of national life, all the living forces of so-
ciety, all that makes the country what it is; and that in due proportion. And
such was the constitution of England, up to the date of the first Parliamen-
tary Reform Act. Its ideal was—to use the words of Bishop Stubbs—“an or-
ganised collection of the several orders, states, and conditions of men,
recognised as possessing political power”; its principle, as Sir James Mackin-
tosh happily said, “a variety of rights of suffrage.” The Reform Act of 1832—
I am far from denying that some reform was necessary—changed all that, and
substituted for it what Samuel Taylor Coleridge called “the mad and bar-
barising scheme of a delegation of individuals.” It was the introduction into
this country of the principle of political atomism. And principles—this is a
fact not generally recognised—like trees, have their seed in themselves. They
grow and develop by necessary laws, often much to the astonishment of the
politicians who take up with them for an immediate purpose, in ignorant in-
difference to their real nature. Thus it was with this principle of political
atomism, the Rousseauan or Jacobin principle of the political equivalence of
all mankind and of the absolute right of majorities told by the head. It has
been fertile in changes, initiated now by one set of political gamblers, now by
another, as the party game for place and power was played, until in 1884 a
clean sweep was made of the old historical constituencies, the ancient fran-
 THE PRICE OF PARTY GOVERNMENT 171

chises of counties and boroughs, and a merely numerical system of represen-

tation was established. It is well to remember that the consummation of this
revolution was largely due to the leader of the so-called Conservatives. I say
“so-called,” for the terms Conservative and Liberal are utterly misleading:
the real difference is between Ins and Outs. It appeared to Lord Salisbury a
clever move in the party game. And the event proved that he was right. But
there is simply no rational ground upon which he can now resist the cry for
equal electoral districts, and “one man, one vote.”
What is practically universal and equal suffrage prevails in this country, as
in France. Our representative system tends, more and more, to represent
mere numbers. Political power has been split into a vast number of extremely
small fragments, in themselves almost worthless, but of great worth if they
are collected and combined. And the business of the wirepuller, a political
chiffonier, Sir Henry Maine aptly called him, is to collect and combine and
trade upon them. Hence the ever-increasing development of caucuses and
their machinery, and the ever-increasing degradation, as Burke had prophe-
sied, of the House of Commons into “a confused scuffling bustle of local
agency.” It is the triumph of the party system, and the assimilation of the so-
called representatives of the nation to horse and mule which have no under-
standing: to mere irrational agents driven into the lobby at the crack of the
party whip. I use the word “irrational” advisedly. “What sort of reason,” asks
Burke—the italics are his—“is that in which the determination precedes the
discussion? Authoritative instructions, mandates issued, which the member is
bound blindly and implicitly to obey, to vote and to argue for, though con-
trary to the clearest convictions of his reason and conscience!” It appears to
me that the root of the falsification of our Parliamentary system by the party
game, is to be found in the falsification of our representatives system by the
principle of political atomism. Men are not equal in rights any more than
they are equal in mights. They are unequal in political value. They ought not
to be equal in political power. To some share of political power every man is
entitled, for the simple reason that he is a person, whose rational co-operation
is necessary to his own development. He has a right to be considered in the
legislation of the community; and in a high state of civilisation “considered”
means consulted. But to say that all men have a right to some share of polit-
ical power, is not to say that all men have a right to the same share. To give
every adult male the same share of political power is as unreasonable as it
would be to require every adult male to pay the same share of taxation. It is
one of Balzac’s wise sayings, “Equality may become a legal right, but it can-
not become an actual fact.” You may decree injustice by a law, but it remains
unjust. You may affirm the thing that it is not, by ever so many Acts of Par-
liament, but you will not convert it into the thing that it is. The false remains
172 WILLIAM S. LILLY

false, in spite of the declamation of doctrinaires and the madness of the peo-
ple. And it is a mere foundation of sand for the political edifice which you
rear upon it. The whole of our party system is based upon a manifest lie and
crying wrong, and the result is the de-ethicising of our public life.
And here, to guard myself against misapprehension, I would make two re-
marks which may serve to conclude this discussion. First, then, I may be told
by some of those who do me the honour to read me, that I underrate popu-
lar merits; that I do not recognise the political value and capacity of the
masses. But that is not so. I yield to no one in respect for the robust virtues
and sturdy common sense which characterise the great bulk of our people.
No one more clearly discerns, and more thankfully and ungrudgingly con-
fesses, their real merits. But the true friends of the masses are not those who
flatter and fawn upon them, and ascribe to them powers and capabilities
which, from the nature of things, it is impossible for them to possess: who by
profuse prevarication, abominable appeals to the meanest motives, impu-
dent promises incapable of performance, buy their votes.

“Plowmen, Shepherds, have I found, and more than once, and still
could find
Sons of God, and kings of men in utter nobleness of mind,
Truthful, trusting, looking upward to the practised hustings liar;
So the Higher wields the Lower, while the Lower is the Higher.”

Further, I fully recognise the importance of those popular movements of

thought and sentiment which, as a matter of fact, have been the chief agents
in the transformations of institutions and manners whereof history is full. I
do not undervalue the function of the instinct of the masses in public affairs.
I believe that in a great national crisis it is frequently a safer guide than the
ratiocination of politicians; often extremely dull men, and, not seldom, so bi-
assed by considerations of party interest, or—which is frequently the same
thing—personal interest, as to be quite incapable of correctly using such
judgment as they possess. In emergencies threatening the life of the country,
blind unreasoning popular feeling is commonly right when these are wrong.
For they are of those whose eyes the god of this world has blinded. Whereas
the masses, incapable of reasoning, are endowed with a compensating keen-
ness of instinct: they feel when their so-called rulers do not see. On this I
strongly insist, while as strongly maintaining that as an instrument of gov-
ernment popular instinct is untrustworthy. The man in the street is ad-
mirable as a patriot when a national danger brings out his civic virtue. As a
statesman in quiet times he is not admirable. In the human body there are
two distinct nervous systems, presiding over two forms of life: the conscious
and the unconscious. Both are equally necessary. And it is a well-established
 THE PRICE OF PARTY GOVERNMENT 173

fact that the effects wrought by the unconscious processes, when in perilous
moments of our existence we feel the throb of a great faith, a supreme hope,
a consuming love, an unquenchable courage, are of inestimable importance.
It is just the same in the body politic, where a like part is played by popular
passions, impulses, emotions. But in the State, as in the individual, passions,
impulses, emotions, should be subjected to the only rightful governor and
law-giver—Reason.
Secondly: As I have pointed out in a recent work,2 which lies before me as
I write, it is the function of political parties to be the organs of popular pas-
sions, impulses, emotions. Parties are the instruments of that persistence in
mobility which is the condition of life for the political as for the physical or-
ganism. The proper conception of them is “free and voluntary associations
of individuals, who by reason of a common feeling of judgment, associate
themselves for common action.” A danger which ever besets them is that of
sinking into factions. I do not know who has written more wisely upon this
subject than Bluntschli in his book, The Character and Spirit of Political Parties. Po-
litical parties, he points out, may display unwisdom, both as to the ends they
follow and the means they employ, without ceasing to be properly parties.
But when they place themselves above the State, and subordinate public in-
terests to their own interests, then they cease to be parties, in the true sig-
nificance of the word, and become factions. The distinctive mark of a
faction, he holds, is this: that instead of seeking to serve the State, it seeks to
make the State serve it: that it follows not political—that is, commonly ben-
eficial (gemeinnützliche)—but selfish ends. “If,” he further insists, “party zeal
and party passion become so over-mastering that parties would rather tear
the commonwealth to pieces than join hands for its deliverance and welfare,
if a party abuses the public authority of which it has gained possession, un-
justly to oppress and persecute those who do not hold with it, if parties com-
bine with a foreign enemy against their own country and the nation to which
they belong—then so unpatriotic a course expels the essential idea of a po-
litical party, and the party becomes a faction.”
Commending these weighty and well-weighed words to the considera-
tion of the judicious reader, I will only add that another grave evil incident
to constitutional government, as worked by political parties, is the arroga-
tion by Parliament, and especially by the Chamber claiming to be specially
representative, of all the functions of the State. The proper business of Par-
liament is to control the administration of the Government, not to direct it.
The forces of party interests, which, if analysed, are usually found to be pri-
vate interests in disguise, tend to obliterate that distinction. It is curious
how soon the Reformed House of Commons displayed this spirit of en-
croachment, and how contemptible were the uses to which it prostituted its
174 WILLIAM S. LILLY

usurped authority. “Low, vulgar, meddling with everything, assuming uni-

versal competency, flattering every base passion, and sneering at everything
noble, refined, and truly national,” is the description given by Coleridge
twelve months after the enactment of the first Reform Bill. Whether its
character and tone have risen in the well-nigh seventy years that have since
passed away, would be an interesting inquiry—upon which I cannot here
enter. But, unquestionably, it now offers to the world—in the words of Mr.
Goldwin Smith—a most striking exhibition of the “weakness of a supreme
Government far too large for united counsel, and distracted in itself by fac-
tion, established and consecrated under the name of party.”

Notes

1. Henry Addison et al. 1900. Who’s Who, 1900. London: Adam & Charles Black.
P. 635.
2. First Principles in Politics. I quote from it a few sentences which lend themselves
to my present argument.
 PART 4.

Party Types and Party Systems

 CHAPTER 23

Parties in the United States*

Alexis de Tocqueville
1839

From 1831 to 1832 the French aristocrat Alexis de Tocqueville (1805–1859) traveled
throughout the United States on a French government-sponsored mission to study pris-
ons and prison reform. The result of this journey was an influential book on prison sys-
tems, as well as the now famous text on American politics and society from which this
excerpt is taken. The first volume of this study was published in 1835; the second volume
appeared five years later. French readers immediately hailed Democracy in Amer-
ica as a major achievement, and it long remained an influential source of French ideas
about American politics and society. The book was also quickly translated into English
and gained a wide and approving readership in both the United States and Britain.1

A
great division must be made between parties. Some countries are
so large that the different populations which inhabit them have
contradictory interests, although they are the subjects of the same
Government; and they may thence be in a perpetual state of opposition.
In this case the different fractions of the people may more properly be
considered as distinct nations than as mere parties; and if a civil war
breaks out, the struggle is carried on by rival peoples rather than by fac-
tions in the State.
But when the citizens entertain different opinions upon subjects which
affect the whole country alike, such for instance, as the principles upon
which the government is to be conducted, then distinctions arise which may

*Alexis de Tocqueville. 1839. Democracy in America. 3rd ed. Translated by Henry

Reeve. New York: George Adelard. Pp. 170–174.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
178 ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE

correctly be styled parties. Parties are a necessary evil in free governments;

but they have not at all times the same character and the same propensities.
At certain periods a nation may be oppressed by such insupportable evils
as to conceive the design of effecting a total change in its political constitu-
tion; at other times the mischief lies still deeper, and the existence of society
itself is endangered. Such are the times of great revolutions and of great par-
ties. But between these epochs of misery and of confusion there are periods
during which human society seems to rest, and mankind to make a pause.
This pause is, indeed, only apparent; for time does not stop its course for na-
tions any more than for men; they are all advancing towards a goal with
which they are unacquainted; and we only imagine them to be stationary
when their progress escapes our observation; as men who are going at a foot
pace seem to be standing still to those who run.
But however this may be, there are certain epochs at which the changes
that take place in the social and political constitution of nations are so slow
and so insensible, that men imagine their present condition to be a final
state; and the human mind, believing itself to be firmly based upon certain
foundations, does not extend its researches beyond the horizon which it de-
scries. These are the times of small parties and of intrigue.
The political parties which I style great are those which cling to principles
more than to consequences; to general, and not to especial cases; to ideas,
and not to men. These parties are usually distinguished by a nobler charac-
ter, by more generous passions, more genuine convictions, and a more bold
and open conduct than the others. In them, private interest, which always
plays the chief part in political passions, is more studiously veiled under the
pretext of the public good; and it may even be sometimes concealed from the
eyes of the very person whom it excites and impels.
Minor parties are, on the other hand, generally deficient in political faith.
As they are not sustained or dignified by a lofty purpose, they ostensibly dis-
play the egotism of their character in their actions. They glow with a facti-
tious zeal; their language is vehement, but their conduct is timid and
irresolute. The means they employ are as wretched as the end at which they
aim. Hence it arises that when a calm state of things succeeds a violent rev-
olution, the leaders of society seem suddenly to disappear, and the powers of
the human mind to lie concealed. Society is convulsed by great parties, by
minor ones it is agitated; it is torn by the former, by the latter it is degraded;
and if these sometimes save it by a salutary perturbation, those invariably
disturb it to no good end.
America has already lost the great parties which once divided the nation;
and if her happiness is considerably increased, her morality has suffered by
their extinction. When the War of Independence was terminated, and the
 PARTIES IN THE UNITED STATES 179

foundations of the new Government were to be laid down, the nation was di-
vided between two opinions,—two opinions which are as old as the world, and
which are perpetually to be met with under all the forms and all the names
which have ever obtained in free communities,—the one tending to limit, the
other to extend indefinitely, the power of the people. The conflict of these two
opinions never assumed that degree of violence in America which it has fre-
quently displayed elsewhere. Both parties of the Americans were in fact agreed
upon the most essential points; and neither of them had to destroy a tradi-
tionary constitution, or to overthrow the structure of society, in order to en-
sure its own triumph. In neither of them, consequently, were a great number
of private interests affected by success or by defeat; but moral principles of a
high order, such as the love of equality and of independence, were concerned
in the struggle, and they sufficed to kindle violent passions.
The party which desired to limit the power of the people, endeavoured to
apply its doctrines more especially to the Constitution of the Union, whence
it derived its name of Federal. The other party, which affected to be more ex-
clusively attached to the cause of liberty, took that of Republican. America is a
land of democracy, and the Federalists were always in a minority; but they
reckoned on their side almost all the great men who had been called forth by
the War of Independence, and their moral influence was very considerable.
Their cause was, moreover, favored by circumstances. The ruin of the Con-
federation had impressed the people with a dread of anarchy, and the Feder-
alists did not fail to profit by this transient disposition of the multitude. For
ten or twelve years they were at the head of affairs, and they were able to
apply some, though not all, of their principles; for the hostile current was be-
coming from day to day too violent to be checked or stemmed. In 1801 the
Republicans got possession of the Government: Thomas Jefferson was
named President; and he increased the influence of their party by the weight
of his celebrity, the greatness of his talents, and the immense extent of his
popularity.
The means by which the Federalists had maintained their position were
artificial, and their resources were temporary: it was by the virtues or the tal-
ents of their leaders that they had risen to power. When the republicans at-
tained to that lofty station, their opponents were overwhelmed by utter
defeat. An immense majority declared itself against the retiring party, and
the Federalists found themselves in so small a minority, they at once de-
spaired of their future success. From that moment the Republican or Demo-
cratic party has proceeded from conquest to conquest, until it has acquired
absolute supremacy in the country. The Federalists, perceiving that they
were vanquished without resource, and isolated in the midst of the nation,
fell into two divisions, of which one joined the victorious Republicans, and
180 ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE

the other abandoned its rallying point and its name. Many years have already
elapsed since they ceased to exist as a party.
The accession of the Federalists to power was, in my opinion, one of the
most fortunate incidents which accompanied the formation of the great
American Union: they resisted the inevitable propensities of their age and
of the country. But whether their theories were good or bad, they had the
defect of being inapplicable, as a system, to the society which they pro-
fessed to govern; and that which occurred under the auspices of Jefferson
must therefore have taken place sooner or later. But their Government
gave the new republic time to acquire a certain stability, and afterwards to
support the rapid growth of the very doctrines which they had combated.
A considerable number of their principles were in point of fact embodied
in the political creed of their opponents; and the Federal Constitution,
which subsists at the present day, is a lasting monument of their patriotism
and their wisdom.
Great political parties are not, then, to be met with in the United States
at the present time. Parties, indeed, may be found which threaten the future
tranquillity of the Union; but there are none which seem to contest the pre-
sent form of Government, or the present course of society. The parties by
which the Union is menaced do not rest upon abstract principles, but upon
temporal interests. These interests disseminated in the provinces of so vast
an empire, may be said to constitute rival nations rather than parties. Thus,
upon a recent occasion, the North contended for the system of commercial
prohibition, and the South took up arms in favour of free trade, simply be-
cause the North is a manufacturing, and the South an agricultural, district;
and that the restrictive system which was profitable to the one, was prejudi-
cial to the other.
In the absence of great parties, the United States abound with lesser con-
troversies; and public opinion is divided into a thousand minute shades of
difference upon questions of very little moment. The pains which are taken
to create parties are inconceivable, and at the present day it is no easy task.
In the United States there is no religious animosity, because all religion is re-
spected, and no sect is predominant; there is no jealousy of rank, because the
people is everything, and none can contest its authority; lastly, there is no
public misery to serve as a means of agitation, because the physical position
of the country opens so wide a field to industry, that man is able to accom-
plish the most surprising undertakings with his own native resources. Nev-
ertheless, ambitious men are interested in the creation of parties, since it is
difficult to eject a person from authority upon the mere ground that his place
is coveted by others. The skill of the actors in the political world lies there-
fore in the art of creating parties. A political aspirant in the United States
 PARTIES IN THE UNITED STATES 181

begins by discriminating his own interest, and by calculating upon those in-
terests which may be collected around, and amalgamated with it: he then
contrives to discover some doctrine or some principle which may suit the
purposes of this new association, and which he adopts in order to bring for-
ward his party and to secure its popularity: just as the imprimatur of a King was
in former days incorporated with the volume which it authorized, but to
which it nowise belonged. When these preliminaries are terminated, the new
party is ushered into the political world.
All the domestic controversies of the Americans at first appear to a
stranger to be so incomprehensible and so puerile, that he is at a loss whether
to pity a people which takes such arrant trifles in good earnest, or to envy
that happiness which enables it to discuss them. But when he comes to study
the secret propensities which govern the factions of America, he easily per-
ceives that the greater part of them are more or less connected with one or
the other of those two divisions which have always existed in free communi-
ties. The deeper we penetrate into the working of these parties, the more do
we perceive that the object of the one is to limit, and that of the other to ex-
tend, the popular authority. I do not assert that the ostensible end, or even
that the secret aim, of American parties is to promote the rule of aristocracy
or democracy in the country; but I affirm that aristocratic or democratic pas-
sions may easily be detected at the bottom of all parties, and that although
they escape a superficial observation, they are the main point and the very
soul of every faction in the United States.

Notes

1. Harvey Mansfield and Delba Winthrop. 2000. “Editors’ Introduction,” in

Tocqueville, Alexis de. Democracy in America. Chicago: The University of
Chicago Press. Pp. xvii–lxxxvi.
 CHAPTER 24

The Four Parties*

Friedrich Rohmer
1844

After completing his education at the University of Munich, Friedrich Rohmer

(1814–1856) devoted himself to developing ideas about politics and society, drawing his
inspiration from the study of the human character. In 1841 he moved to Zurich, where
he met Johan Caspar Bluntschli (see chapter 9). The two worked together in Cantonal
politics for several years, and Bluntschli became a disciple and promoter of Rohmer’s psy-
chological perspective on politics. Although Rohmer’s writings on parties were widely
read and referenced in the nineteenth century, few besides Bluntschli were convinced by
Rohmer’s comparison of party types with the four ages of man. Nevertheless, Rohmer’s
reflections on parties mark a notable attempt to generalize about the common origins of
parties in various countries. One of the important features of Rohmer’s scheme is that it
gives liberalism a status as respectable as conservatism—the other “manly” party.1

Book 1. The Origins of Political Parties

Chapter 1. The Dominant Terms

§1

S
ince the end of the last century all Europe has been shaken to its foun-
dations by the battle between political parties. This battle is part of
humanity’s development. Everyone is aware of it. Willingly or other-
wise, everyone is part of it. It is common to all of us, like the ground upon

*Friedrich Rohmer. 1844. Die Vier Parteien. Zürich: Ch. Beyel Verlag. Pp. 3–33.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
184 FRIEDRICH ROHMER

which we stand or the air which surrounds us. Where political freedom is not
sufficiently developed to provide space for parties to appear openly, they are
still internally present in the realm of ideas. Even if they do not appear in
legislatures, they nevertheless are found within the state. If they do not ap-
pear in legislatures, they appear in the church; if not in the church, then in
science. They are untouchable and enduring. If they are forcefully driven
from one arena, they will appear that much more powerfully in another. The
state can keep them away from the light of day, but despite this they will con-
tinue to hold sway within the darkness of heads and hearts. They assume
thousands of forms while remaining forever the same. They exist, and no
power in the world can suppress them.

§2

Because this is so, there is no point in asking whether parties should now, or
ever, exist in a well-ordered state.
History shows that party battles were present in the most prosperous peri-
ods of the most flourishing states. Greece was at its zenith when democrats
and aristocrats fought each other, and Rome began to go downhill after the
Plebians and Patricians merged.
History shows that parties as such exist in underdeveloped or declining
eras, though they are of a lower type. In other words, history shows that par-
ties are always an essential expression of public life. The factions of the Hip-
podrome in Constantinople related to the Plebeians and the Patricians in
precisely the same way that the Byzantine Empire related to old Rome. Dri-
ving parties out of their true field—that of politics—has never had any effect
but that parties create a place for themselves in a lower form on a lower
plane; this is exactly what they have done in Germany in the academic realm.

§3

In no other period of history have these parties emerged so clearly as in our

time. We find them under the most varied forms and nomenclatures. They
appear clearly and openly in southwest Europe, but are hidden in northeast
Europe. They have developed fine nuances in places like England, France
and Switzerland, where political freedom flourishes, or where—as in Ger-
many—there is a special political mood. We suspect that these forms, from
Communism to Ultra-legitimacy, can all be traced back to a single basic
idea which has an organic basis. Because of this it is not arbitrary to apply
 THE FOUR PARTIES 185

the same labels to parties in various European countries, regardless of their

national labels. By this I mean the well-known words, “radical,” “liberal,”
“conservative,” (also “aristocratic”), “absolutist,” (or, “reactionary”), and
“moderate,” terms which all European languages use to describe a general
intellectual or aspirational tendency which transcends local peculiarities
and local origins.
These tendencies are no less related in reality than in language. All across
Europe absolutism has reached out to absolutism; radicalism is everywhere
united. Finally a style of government that appears to be half-liberal and half-
conservative is always termed “moderate.”

§4

Even so, this is still a long way from connecting the words with particular per-
spectives, and still further from understanding their fundamental principles.

[Rohmer continues by rejecting the German idea that statesmen should be above parties. He
also rejects the idea that parties should be classified according to their demands and principles,
because these all are changeable. What is important is the inner being of the party, not its out-
ward appearance.]

Chapter 2. The Principle of the Parties

§13

The state is the highest temporal appearance of the human spirit. “The
human is naturally a political being.”
If this is true, it conversely must be true that the state emanates from
within the human spirit. This means that the foundations and the structures
of the state should be sought in the construction and condition of our spirit.

§14

The entire organism of the state thus lies within the organism of the
human soul. The state necessarily constructed itself out of the soul’s
components and laws. As a result, everything that is connected with the
state, including the parties, can only be explained and justified by look-
ing at the soul.
186 FRIEDRICH ROHMER

§15

By themselves, the various components of the body public do not have par-
ties. All of its elements can be described, its entire mechanisms, the elements
of the population, the division of classes, the establishment of its institu-
tions—and yet parties will still not come into the picture.
However, they appear the instant that you start thinking about the devel-
opment of the state. Even if the mere existence of the state does not imply
any parties, they are a given as soon as its history starts. From the moment of
its birth every state that is worthy of its name starts to move in ways that de-
termine its development. Political parties are signs of this action; indeed,
they lead it.

§16

Parties are thus indivisibly linked to public life, even though they are not
components of the state itself.

§17

In order to recognize the corpus of the state, I must know the components
of the human soul. In order to understand the life of the state, I must seek
the laws of the soul’s development.

§18

The most varied individuals are—each in their own way—subject to one

and the same general development. The most varied states are subject to
one and the same life forces in the parties, although these assume very dif-
ferent shapes.

§19

Parties thus originate in organic human development, in other words, in the

life stages of the human soul.
 THE FOUR PARTIES 187

§20

The visible expression of these life stages are the ages of man.

§21

The development itself, how the various stages follow one upon the other, is
history.
But the stages, independent figures that exist for themselves and along-
side each other, are the parties.2

Chapter 3. The Ages of Man

§22

Throughout history four stages of human development have been recog-

nized. These correspond to the law which Nature has embedded in her en-
tire creation: the boy, the youth, the man, and the old man.3

§23

The body and the spirit are equally subordinate to this law. Body and spirit
are joined, and even though the spirit sometimes overtakes the body, or the
latter the former, in healthy constitutions the balance eventually reasserts it-
self. If this does not occur the result is weakness or even death, as in the case
of premature children.
Here we are concerned only with the development of the spirit—of the
boy, the youth, the man, and the old man in the intellectual sense.

§24

One half of the life span resembles an ascending line, the other, a de-
scending line. The period of growth extends in unceasing increase until the
middle of life. Once the growth reaches its apex, it is followed by a pause
and then by gradual decrease. In the ascending line everything is activity,
188 FRIEDRICH ROHMER

movement, creative energy. In the descending line everything is modera-

tion, restraint, withdrawn energy.
The boy and the youth (younger man) belong to the ascending line, the
man and the old man to the descending line. The moment in which the
youth grows into a man is the pinnacle of growth, the peak at which devel-
opment breaks off.

§25

If the soul develops in the same way, so that in various periods various as-
pects of the soul come to the fore, then in boyhood and youth the active (cre-
ative, productive) energies will dominate the organism, in manhood and old
age the assimilating (reproductive, passive) energies will dominate.

§26

As far as the manner of activities is concerned, there is a resemblance between

the boy and the youth on one side, and the man and the old man on the other.
The first two ages have productivity in common, the second two have quies-
cence. Nevertheless, there are vast differences within each of these pairs.
Whoever has observed people knows the big gap that separates the boy
from the youth and the man from the old man. Although the boy and the
youth share similar styles of activity, they are all the more different as con-
cerns the content of this activity. Although the old man and the man share a
passivity of spiritual energies, they have even less in common as far as the
content of these energies. As far as content goes the two middle stages (the
youth and the man) have much more in common than do the man and the
old man. Yet as far as the object of their energies is concerned, the first and
last stages (the old man and the youth) overlap, as distant as they are in all
other ways.

§27

The essence of true life exists only in the youth and the man. Potential en-
ergy is found only in youth, and powerful peace only in manhood. Just as the
seed is insignificant without the blossom, so too the boy without the man.
The boy carries as a seed within himself everything that time will later bring
 THE FOUR PARTIES 189

forth: but his life is only a preparation, only an intimation, only a foundation
for that which is to come.
In contrast, the old man has run through the fullness of life and his vital-
ity is at an end. His rest is not power at rest, but the rest of exhaustion. Just
as the boy does not yet have an independent life, only one that is developing,
so too the old man lives a life that is completed and detached. His life has
only the appearance of life, just as the boy’s power is only a mirage of power.
The boy’s life is striving without ability—he lives in the future; the old man’s
life is memory without creation—he lives in the past. The highest form of
life, living in the present, is found only in the (younger and older) man.

§28

When one follows the activities of the soul through specific periods one rec-
ognizes in an individual’s development the great duality which nature has
laid on all creation in the form of the contrasts between man and woman.

§29

The boy and the old man are relatively feminine, the youth and the man have
masculine traits. Everyday experience is enough to convince us of this.4
In the boy, as in the woman, fantasy and feelings dominate over the stricter
powers of the soul. The spirit of the boy, like the feminine spirit, lives for his
intuitions and feelings, and like the feminine spirit has more sensibility than
strength. Both are equally remote from logic; it is just as difficult to use rea-
son to persuade a boy as a woman, and equally easy to teach them a lesson by
means of accomplished facts. Boys and women are charming and devoted, at-
tractive and passionate, but also fickle.
Thus, in the boy the active, feminine side of the organism plays a role. Its
obverse, passive side appears in old age.
The old man shares with the woman the sensitivity of his being, the deli-
cacy of his operations, the precision and coldness of his calculations, the
quickness and kindness of his comprehension, the dearth of productivity.
Like women, he is full of refinement and art, decency and good behavior.
Like them, his appearance has an effect, and he holds fast to the chains of
tradition and of etiquette. His wisdom, like that of women, comes from life
and from experience. His advice, like that of women, is invaluable, whereas
direct action suits neither of them so well. Clever and wily as women, he
190 FRIEDRICH ROHMER

loves intrigue; like them, he knows how to direct others from behind the
scenes. He shares with them the moods and the weaknesses of the heart.

§30

Because both the boy and the old man are formed in a feminine way, they are
internally related in spite of all their external differences. The boy is prema-
turely clever, the old man is as passionate as a boy. The developmental ex-
tremes merge into each other.
The youth and the man are just as close internally, and are even closer
externally.
Productive energies in their many forms are the foremost influence in the
youth: courage and the fire of activity; in a more moderating vein, the highest
bloom of the spirit, far-seeing, organizing insight; and also the power of speech.
The man employs that which has been created using the well-proven
power of his intellect as well as his heart. His is the entire field of research and
the clarity of knowledge. Just as the youth possesses the most fiery courage, so
the man possesses the most noble heart and the deepest understanding.
This is the manner in which the various energies are divided among the
different ages. If being a man is a man’s highest task, then he only fulfills this
task in the two middle states, because childhood is the entrance into, and old
age the postlude of, the higher life.

[The text continues with further thoughts about relations between the ages of man.]

§36

If I know how a boy thinks, acts, and feels—and I know this from knowing
about the course of development—then I can understand the nature of a per-
son who seems to me to be born with the characteristics of a boy. And so, too,
with the other ages. In a word: in the four stages of development I can learn
about the four basic parties into which humanity divides itself, both as regards
individuals and as regards tendencies (since tendencies stem from character).

§37

These directions appear in all fields of human endeavor: in the small as well
as the large ones, in thought as well as in action, in the arts as well as in the
 THE FOUR PARTIES 191

sciences. But it is only at the apex of humanity, in the church and in the state
that they appear self-consciously, that is, as parties.

§38

We saw the creative principle in the youth, the sustaining one in the man, the
exhorting one in the boy, the terminating one in the old man.
The youth is liberal, the man conservative, the boy radical, and the old
man absolute.5

§39

We want to pause for a moment to quickly review the preceding sentences,

so that we can summarize the relation between the parties, and to get a
rough overview of their possible battles.
Liberalism and radicalism, like conservatism and absolutism, are exter-
nally similar but internally far apart.
Liberalism and conservatism, like radicalism and absolutism, are exter-
nally different but internally close.
Radicalism and conservatism, like liberalism and absolutism, are irrecon-
cilably different both externally and internally.

§40

There are only two true principles: the liberal and the conservative. The rad-
ical principle is as ephemeral as the boy, the absolute is as lifeless as the old
man. Both can exist only as subordinate, never as independent, elements (the
former when it supports liberalism, the latter when it supports conservatism).
Thus, there is only one kind of great politics, the masculine kind, which
can be either liberal or conservative. (Everything else is feminine and small—
the politics of insolence or intrigue [radical or absolute]).
And thus, there are only two parties which hold true life for mankind.

Notes

1. Rochus von Liliencron. 1889. Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie. Vol. 29. Leipzig:
Duncker and Humblot. Pp. 57–58.
192 FRIEDRICH ROHMER

2. This makes clear why it is possible to speak of parties without treating the
state itself. [The note continues on the subject of how we know about human nature.]
3. This pattern is evident in plants when they grow, bloom, bear fruit, wilt. It is
even seen when inanimate nature changes seasons from spring to summer to
fall and winter. This is the law of each and every thing, not just of human de-
velopment. Its highest expression is to be found in humans, who are cre-
ation’s crown.
As for the names, they should be understood in a Roman sense, according
to which youth (adolescens) encompasses not just the period of youth in its
most narrow sense, but also the period of young manhood. In contrast, the
man ( juvenis) designates settled manhood. [The note continues with a long discussion
of the Roman author Florus and his views of the ages of man.]
4. It should be noted that here we are speaking only of the development of men.
Women also have the dualism of the masculine and feminine principle in
four stages of development, except that here they are reversed: the feminine
principle animates the middle stages, the masculine the extreme ones. This
explains the everyday truth, that the feminine sex is stronger than the mas-
culine in childhood and old age.
5. We use the word absolute (instead of absolutist) without implying any philo-
sophical underpinning, since the old man is “dissociated (from life).” The
word “radical” contains—unintentionally—the meaning: “the fundamental
condition (of life).”
 CHAPTER 25

Parties in the Life of the State*

Gottlieb Christian Abt
1848

Gottlieb Abt (1820–1869) was a German writer and publisher who was forced into exile
in Switzerland as a result of his support for the 1848 revolution. The following selection
comes from an article on parties that he wrote for the Rotteck-Welcker Staats-Lexi-
con,1 a multivolume encyclopedia that was a compendium of liberal legal thought. Most
of this entry summarizes and criticizes Friedrich Rohmer’s theories of party, which had
appeared only a short time before. In the sections that precede this excerpt, Abt rejected
Rohmer’s comparison between party types and the ages of man. He accused Rohmer of
using a false analogy for the transparently partisan purpose of suggesting that some types
of parties are superior to others. In what follows, Abt gives his own criterion for distin-
guishing between good and bad parties.2

S
o much for Rohmer. I believe that in the preceding section I have made
it easier for the reader to correctly assess Rohmer’s theory: it is an in-
spired, original paraphrase of existing circumstances, a method of po-
litical distillation that can produce intellectual substance even out of the most
sterile material. To try to critically elucidate this system would surpass the
bounds of the Staats-Lexicon. Therefore in my own presentation I will confine
myself to showing the untenability of the system’s conclusions. Above all, this
is a matter of finding the proper assessment standard, some general principle
from which party precedes as of an internal necessity. For on this I must de-
clare myself to be in complete agreement with Rohmer, that there is as little

* Gottlieb Christian Abt. 1848. “Parteien.” In Staats-Lexicon: Encyclopädie der

sämmtlichen Staatswissenschaften, revised edition, vol. 10, Carl von Rotteck and Carl Wel-
cker, eds. Altona: Verlag von Johann Friedrich Hammerich. Pp. 493–496.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
194 GOTTLIEB CHRISTIAN ABT

to be gained from the usual abbreviations and party names and party defini-
tions, as there is from a theory which (like Rohmer’s), more jokingly than log-
ically, more playfully than reasonably, randomly combines generalities and
specifics, law and appearance, cause and effect. We get this assessment stan-
dard by answering the question: what is the immediate aim of party battles,
what is it that every party wants to obtain for itself? The answer is nothing
other than the chance to organize the state according to its ideas and wishes.
Once it has won this opportunity, what axiom, what principle, what driving
idea guides this organization? It is nothing other than interest. Every party
wants to organize the state according to its own interests. Every party that ac-
cedes to power gives society a form that most closely matches its interests. All
party contests revolve around interests, conflicting interests. Interests are at
the heart of all upheavals and movements within the state. The nature of
these interests also determines the nature of the parties, gives them their con-
tent and their principles. It gives shape to them, determines their identifying
characteristics, distinguishes them from each other.
There are two kinds of interests: special interests and general human in-
terests. The former are entitlements and privileges, the latter is justice. The
major characteristic of privileges is depriving the whole to help a few indi-
viduals. The major characteristic of justice: respect for the rights and needs
of every individual.
Two types of parties correspond to these two types of interests: represen-
tatives of privileges and representatives of human interests.
Parties of the first kind are alike as to content. They have a common prin-
ciple, the same purposes and interests. As far as their appearance goes, they
divide into three main classes according to the means each uses to attain its
ends. Privileges are nothing other than preferences for the few at the cost of
the whole, a subordination of general interests to special interests, a degra-
dation of the whole into a means and a tool for the few. Accordingly, parties
of privilege belong to one of these classes depending on the ways in which
they exploit the whole for their own ends, using it as a means, and letting it
work for their private interests.
In the first class is the party which directly uses state power to force the
whole to act, to work, to produce on their behalf, which under some guise or
pretext forces them to give a portion of their products to those in power.
This is the party of political absolutism. Political absolutism vindicates the
rights of this party’s representatives to organize the state in this way. In other
words, it justifies formulating state power so that the interests of the whole
are subordinated to the private interests of the power-holder and of all
whom he includes within his interests, whom he makes into his collaborators
in order to use them as instruments.
 PARTIES IN THE LIFE OF THE STATE 195

In the second class is the party which uses people’s religious feelings in
order to hold them in a condition in which they are inclined to work and
produce on behalf of the privileged, to give them a portion of the fruits of
their labors. These are the parties of the priests, the representatives of the
church, who developed over time in opposition to the laity, and who were
strengthened by [Pope] Gregory the Seventh and the Innocents.
Finally, in the third class is the party which uses the institutions of produc-
tion and trade to make the whole work for it, which forces them to surrender
a portion of the fruits of their labors. These are the representatives of capital,
the so-called bourgeois.
The trait shared by these parties is the representation of interests which
conflict with the interests of the community, and the employment of that
which is common as a means of reaching non-common goals. They are only
differentiated by the means which they employ to reach their goals. Repre-
sentatives of political absolutism coerce directly using varied and increas-
ingly violent methods. Representatives of “the church” reach their goals
through a peculiar cultivation of the human heart. Representatives of capital
use the common currency, money, in order to get the non-propertied to serve
their interests. These parties are all conservative in nature. This means that
they seek by any means possible to preserve the existing state of affairs,
which suits their interests; these are circumstances which they either found
or created. Therefore they seek at any price to keep the whole, the people,
from attaining a position in which they could destroy privileges and shape
society to suit the common interest. These parties are unconditionally con-
servative: in other words, they seek to preserve the existing order no matter
how much it is absurd, corrupt, unnatural, or opposed to the common good.
For them it is not the rationality, the suitability, the nature of the entity
which is decisive in regards to preserving the existing order. Rather, it is
merely the fact that something exists. It has become, therefore, a matter of
mere form, of appearance not content. As Rohmer says, they “devalue prin-
ciples using history and law,” they make their highest object the cult of form,
or the formal, and of positive law.
Standing in opposition to these parties, to the representatives of privi-
leges, is the party which represents general interests. This is the democratic
party: precisely because it wants to preserve the rights of every individual, it
seeks to enable the collective of these individuals—the people—to make the
state conform with collective interests, in other words, with the people’s in-
terests. Just as the parties of privileges are essentially of a conservative na-
ture, the character of the democratic party is reforming, creative. The former
have no productivity or constructiveness. Their interests are served by es-
tablished, closed forms. Their activities are confined to maintaining these
196 GOTTLIEB CHRISTIAN ABT

forms, which are necessary for maintaining their life. The latter, the demo-
cratic party, represents the organic development from the old to the new,
from that which has become unusable to that which is better. This is because
its interests are those of humanity, and humanity undergoes constant rejuve-
nation, casting off forms which have become obsolete. The parties of privi-
lege are stable. Their motion is only a specious, mechanical movement that
always limits itself to the same circles which encompass existing forms. The
democratic party moves forward. It develops from the inside outward. It
grows organically. It is alive. The former defend manifest crimes in public
life, even when they harm the general interest, as long as the privileged ben-
efit from them. The latter has only the welfare of all persons as its highest
aim, and it destroys whatever opposes this, even that which has stood for a
thousand years and been sanctioned and endorsed by the thickest patina of
the centuries. However, the democratic party respects whatever is compati-
ble with its highest aim. In this sense it also is conservative, only not uncon-
ditionally so, but rather in a critical, judicious, probative way. It conserves
only that which is good or true, that which serves common ends, but not that
which is bad or false or unusable. In a word, it conserves, but not because
something exists, but rather because it is reasonable and good. It does not
judge the form alone, but instead considers the essence, the heart, the con-
tent.
The democratic party constitutes the driving principle in political strug-
gles. It is this party which shows the rest of the parties their relationship to
one another and to itself, and the other parties orient themselves to it.

[Abt describes Jesuitism as the party of privilege within the Catholic church.]

From the preceding it has become clear that the true and correct standard
for assessing parties according to their principles and their characteristics
cannot be something which is not in a direct causal relation to them. Rather,
it must be found in the relation between their endeavors and tendencies, and
that which is “commonly human,” the interests of humanity. Because this
standard derives from that which is highest, that which is general, it alone
can be sensibly applied to that which is subordinate or particular—and in
comparison with the whole community, the individual parties have a sec-
ondary status. This standard does away with the vagueness of the reigning
terminology, and restores the true meaning to the party names of “radical,”
“liberal,” “conservative,” “absolutist,” and “moderate.” As a result it also ex-
poses a theory which rests on purely arbitrary word games. When the Radi-
cal makes special interests into the ultimate aim of his efforts he is as
worthless as the Liberal who commits the same mistake, or as the Conserv-
 PARTIES IN THE LIFE OF THE STATE 197

ative or Absolutist who inevitably make this mistake. This standard is the
only proper test of parties—of Radicalism, of Liberalism, of Conservatism,
of Absolutism, of Moderation—because it shows the real nature of every
party, and indicates the extent to which it is alloyed with false elements. This
standard alone measures each party’s justification to rule. It does not matter
whether they call themselves Liberal or Conservative, Radical or Moderate,
whether they have the majority or the minority on their side. Rather, the
only thing that matters is whether they fight for privileges or for general
human interests, for the advantages of single classes or for the good of the
whole, for the rights of a few or for justice for all. In practice, every party is
able to rule, but only democratic parties can rule justly.

Notes

1. It was included in the second edition and in the final volume of supplements
to the first edition, which appeared in a year before the second edition.
2. Walther Killy, ed. 1995. Deutsche biographische Enzyklopädie. Vol. 1. Munich: K. G.
Saur. P. 15.
 CHAPTER 26

Parties And Party Groups (II)*

Heinrich von Treitschke
1871

In the following selection, a continuation of the essay excerpted in chapter 20, Treitschke
argues against the idea that a two-party system is a prerequisite for good government.

T
he fact that party divisions necessarily precede from changes in na-
tional spirit undermines one hope that has deceived many of the
continent’s best thinkers. It cannot be the task of the Germans to
strive for a convergence of parties into two big groups in imitation of the En-
glish Whigs and Tories.
Count Ceasar Balbo, who dedicates a thoughtful section to political par-
ties in his posthumous work “Della monarchia rappresentativa in Italia” [On Repre-
sentative Monarchy in Italy], flatly maintains that party life fragments in new
nations, whereas established nations always have only two big parliamentary
parties. In his thorough way he even wants to tear down the semi-circular
buildings of continental parliaments and to introduce the narrow nave of
Westminster Hall everywhere, so that the unwanted center parties would
not find a place to go. This is to assert what needs to be proven. The brave
Italian’s sharp censure of the citizen monarchy’s pitiful Center government,
and of the querulous party groups in the French model chamber, is just as
justified as his warm praise for the wisdom of the old English aristocratic
party. But the decisive question is this: is the English two-fold division of
parties a precondition of parliamentary life, or is it only the result of the

*Heinrich von Treitschke. 1903. “Parteien und Fraktionen.” In Historische und Poli-
tische Aufsätze, vol. 3, 6th ed. Leipzig: Verlag von G. Hirzel. Pp. 590–597.
S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties
© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
200 HEINRICH VON TREITSCHKE

idiosyncratic shape that parliamentarism assumed in the hands of the En-

glish aristocracy? If we ask this question, Balbo’s fallacy is quickly revealed.
The House of Commons actually possesses the highest power of the state.
Parliament adopts laws, directly leads a portion of government administra-
tion using “private-bills,” and indirectly leads the entire administration
through the cabinet, the governing committee of parliament which is a prod-
uct of the majority in the lower House. Before an English minister reaches
his post, he must pass a three-fold test: he must be elected to Parliament, he
must use talent or family connections to distinguish himself among the ma-
jority in the House, and finally he must be called into the Cabinet by the
crown—that is to say, by the leading statesman of his party. The leading min-
ister is necessarily also the leader of the majority in the lower House. He
must either, like Robert Walpole, practice the art of corruption, “manage-
ment,” and “oil the wheels of the parliamentary machine,” or he must rule
the majority with his intellect. Here the government possesses, as Macaulay
aptly says, some of the character of a popular assembly, while the parliament
has some of the character of a cabinet. Only members of parliament can
enter the Cabinet. Government and parliament are so inextricably linked
that Alpheus Todd can flatly assert that ministers are the true guardians of
the rights of parliament. Such a government, armed with all the powers of
the state and with the moral standing of a popular legislature, would in-
evitably fall into despotism if it were not checked by a strong opposition in
Parliament—by an opposition that is united and led by a single hand, that
deliberately seeks and combats all the weaknesses of the government, that is
prepared to topple the ministers and to replace them. Under such conditions
a strong opposition party is a pillar of freedom, “the proper lever of free gov-
ernment,” as all Britons say, especially since large assemblies usually are more
willing to misuse power than are lone individuals. Thus, nothing is more jus-
tified than the high respect enjoyed by the two old aristocratic parties, which
have for so long contained, supervised, and complimented each other. How-
ever, nothing is more misguided than the attempt to import these aristo-
cratic party formats into monarchical Germany.
German governments are not the product of Parliament; rather, they are
formed according to the king’s free will. Ministers are not a part of the par-
liament; rather, they stand next to it and as bearers of an independent state
power, obliged to seek an uncoerced agreement with the equally indepen-
dent representative assembly. It is possible to complain about this, but only
if one refuses to see that the Hohenzollern ruler cannot be content with the
modest position of the English monarchy. However, only a fool would deny
this fact. It is entirely unimportant whether a German minister is a member
of the representative assembly; it is so unimportant that the general public
 PARTIES AND PARTY GROUPS (II) 201

hardly asks about it. The German minister generally prefers to stay aloof
from party affairs in his capacity as a member of the legislature. To the ex-
tent that his policies match the opinion of the House, he can win the confi-
dence of the parliament even if he never belonged to the House. The
constitution gives him the right to speak to the parliament at any time,
something that is a necessary consequence of our basic constitutional ideas.
No one would wish that the Prussian minister president would be prevented
from speaking in the lower House (Haus der Abgeordneten) just because he is a
member of the upper House (Heerenhaus). And no one would assert of Ger-
man ministers that they, like the English ones, are the representatives of the
rights of Parliament. They are much more likely to say that they represent
the rights of the crown, and that Parliament must protect its own rights
against their possible encroachments. Therefore the German parliament
must jealously guard many powers that the House of Commons has care-
lessly allowed to drop. We Germans have good grounds to value the right to
[legislative] initiative: our parliament must have a means to act independently,
to supplement, the work of a government which does not depend on it. In
contrast, in England the right of initiative has fallen out of use ever since the
system of party government took root. Since about the time of the Reform
Bill it has been an established principle that no important bill will be con-
sidered and discussed by the House, unless it comes directly or indirectly
from the government. The majority and its governing committee are so
closely linked that the government must introduce every bill that is seriously
backed by its party. The German rule, that government and parliament stand
side-by-side in the state as two independent powers, used to be derived
merely from existing power relations. Since then this fact has been promoted
to a legal principle by the constitutions of the North German Confederation
and the German Empire. No member of the Bundesrat may belong to the Re-
ichstag. This makes English-style party government legally impossible, be-
cause you cannot lead a parliamentary party unless you belong to the
parliament. At least English statesmen would never dispute such a funda-
mental axiom.
This single condition creates the inevitable difference between the na-
ture of German and English parties. In England the opposition provides
the strict oversight to which the government of every free state must be
subject; in Germany this is provided by the whole parliament. Here, as
there, the effect of this oversight exhibits itself more often in terms of
considerations which are quietly forced on the minister, less often in the
form of public attacks. In our system the whole Reichstag occupies the po-
sition of the English opposition. Every German minister must expect to
receive uncomfortable questions and pointed accusations from the ranks
202 HEINRICH VON TREITSCHKE

of the party that usually supports him: an English majority would never do
this to its leader. This is a justifiable difference: since the German party
did not itself chose the minister, it would act in a very servile and con-
temptible manner if it were to unconditionally subordinate itself to him.
Because German governments are not based in parliament, we obviously
cannot form either a government party or an opposition in the English
sense of things. In fact, the experiences of English party life diametrically
contradict the lessons taught by the history of Prussian parties. English
parliamentarism first became stable and effective upon the disappearance
of the small middle parties—the trimmers, the flying squadrons—and
when only the two united armies of the Whigs and Tories alternately
fought each other as governing party and opposition. Today English par-
liamentarism is again going through an alarming period of crisis, now that
the old aristocratic parties have begun to dissolve. In Prussia we twice had
a grouping of parties that at least resembled the English pattern. Under
Manteuffel’s ministry, as in the days of the new period, there was a pas-
sionately strong majority that was determined to support the ministry,
and there was a similar opposition that openly demanded: get rid of this
ministry. And what was the result? Law-giving came to a standstill, and
public life became sterile, as all contemporary parties would probably
admit. German parliamentarism only became more effective once party
groupings were no longer based on the question, “For or against the gov-
ernment?” An English parliament which was composed like the two first
North German Reichstags would be the epitome of confused weakness.
This is because, as the apt old saying has it, a British parliament without a
leader is like an army without a general. And yet these two assemblies
were the most productive and powerful parliamentary bodies that Ger-
man history has ever seen. They had neither a true government party nor
a real opposition (if one disregards the powerless group of the far left).
We had a leading statesman, but he was not the leader of a united parlia-
mentary majority. He presented the House with an independent policy,
and by means of negotiations between the parties the House succeeded in
both supporting and improving this artful policy. Coalitions of various
parties, which in old England were a rare and usually unpleasant excep-
tion, were for us common and usually successful.
This idiosyncratic character of North German parliamentary life will be
even more pronounced in the new empire. The Bundesrat remains a chamber
of the states, and today, since Prussia no longer necessarily holds the major-
ity, the imperial chancellor is increasingly forced to conduct difficult diplo-
macy within the Bundesrat itself. The chancellor sometimes has to defend
decisions in front of the Reichstag which do not match his own convictions,
 PARTIES AND PARTY GROUPS (II) 203

but which are, instead, the product of difficult compromises. And if we ever
should have an imperial government, this, too, will also only carry out the av-
eraged will of twenty-five governments. It therefore will not be in a position
to always rely on a single party. The independent position of the imperial
government in regards to the Reichstag will also necessarily affect the rela-
tionship between the Prussian ministers and the Prussian state assembly, be-
cause the posts of imperial chancellor and Prussian Minister President
should continue to be in one person’s hands. No statesman can simultane-
ously be a party leader in two different parliaments. There is no question
about it—this German parliamentary system is difficult to manage, and de-
mands unusual wisdom and moderation. However, the difficulty is unavoid-
able given our complicated political situation. Instead of constantly looking
to England and complaining about the imaginary atrophy of German free-
dom, we should instead shift our gaze to North America, where the federal
constitution similarly precludes the English party regimen. The President of
the Union, who is an official with a personal mandate, is just as incapable of
governing in a parliamentary manner, and chooses his councillors just as
freely, as our Kaiser surrounded by his Bundesrat—but who says that freedom
is lacking in the Union because of this?
The difference between German and English parties is not just a product
of the institutions, but also of the sharply contrasting political and moral
ideas which divide the countries. The thoroughly partisan views of the more
established English, this long catechism of political morality and expressions
of decency which they call the “ethics of party,” is to us Germans a book with
seven seals; it is utterly unfathomable to German sensibilities. When Burke
went from the Whigs to the Tories, it was not he but the state of the world
which had changed. The French Revolution suddenly broke out, and the
conscientious man recognized that his views of the great events were not
compatible with the judgements of his former friends. We Germans may
perhaps doubt whether he judged rightly, but none of us would deny that
Burke acted correctly when, following his convictions, he distanced himself
from his old comrades. However, to his countrymen he appeared to be an
apostate, his reputation remained questionable, and he could never again as-
sume an important office. Even today the Whigs still find it difficult to be
fair to this brilliant man. To us Germans, none of Wellington’s accomplish-
ments as a statesman seems more laudable than the emancipation of the
Catholics. We admire the way that the upright old Tory finally recognized
the necessity of this reform and himself decisively brought about what once
he had fought against. Similarly, none of the statesmen of the new England
awaken as much sympathy in us as Robert Peel, the righteous man whose
brave heart was always propelled by the impulse towards truth and the spirit
204 HEINRICH VON TREITSCHKE

of self-assessment. We see it as a sign of true civic virtue that he brought

himself to defy the prejudices of his party and to force through free trade
policy. But how is the bravery of these two statesman assessed by Erskine
May, that benevolent, moderate, representative of old Whiggery? According
to him, they fulfilled their duties to the state, and as statesman are worthy of
the highest praise, but as party leaders they were disloyal, dishonorable, dis-
honest—which prompts further preaching about the “ethics of party,” about
the duties of the party leader, who should feel like the freely elected leader
of a republic. Which German man could read this without immediately an-
swering: “this is not how Germans think”? We do not want to have anything
to do with such pusillanimous English partisanship. A German minister
should think only about the welfare of the state, and should never assume
obligations towards any party which would distract him from these thoughts.
 CHAPTER 27

Parties and Party Government*

Henry Sidgwick
1891

Henry Sidgwick (1838–1900) taught classics, and later moral philosophy, at Trinity
College, Cambridge. While his first books were in the field of ethics, his later writings
were about economics and politics. The Elements of Politics, the book from which
this is taken, bears the stamp of Sidgwick’s philosophical background and his early inter-
est in the ideas of John Stuart Mill. In this book the author’s stated aim is “to set forth in
a systematic manner the general notions and principles which we use in ordinary politi-
cal reasonings,” and “to determine what ought to be, as distinct from what is or has
been.” In the following excerpt, from the book’s sole chapter on political parties, Sidgwick
rejects the then current notion that there was a natural, and therefore desirable, tendency
to dualism in party politics. Instead, he considers the institutional tendencies that en-
courage interests to cohere into two parties, and points to problems associated with po-
litical systems that have only two parties.1

§2

n the whole, then, I should conclude that the formation of par-

O ties in a modern state which would naturally result from the

grouping of persons either according to similarity of convictions
or community of interests, or both combined, would probably be of a
complicated and shifting kind; and that it would almost certainly have a
multiple and not a dual character. And if we put out of sight the influence

*Henry Sidgwick. 1891. The Elements of Politics. London: Macmillan and Co. Pp.
567–577.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
206 HENRY SIDGWICK

of elections—especially elections of the head or heads of the executive—

there appears to be no sufficient reason why a group of persons united by
common principles, or common interests, should enter into permanent
union, for political purposes, with another group formed on an entirely
different basis. No doubt such a union might sometimes be the easiest way
of forming a majority for carrying the measures which each group desires;
but it would be an obviously artificial means to this end: since the success
of any one party such as we have been considering, in obtaining a major-
ity in favour of its measures by the natural and legitimate methods of rea-
soning and persuasion, would not interfere materially with the efforts of
another party to carry measures relating to a different subject.
The case is no doubt altered when we take elections into account; at least
under a system in which no provision, or no adequate provision, is made for
the representation of minorities; since in any such election, if the vacancies
are filled up by the candidates of one party, the candidates of any other party
can only be elected accidentally, unless the parties have formed an alliance,
and agreed upon a common list of candidates. Hence arises an important in-
fluence, tending to reduce the number of competing electoral combinations
to two. It seems not unlikely, however, that such combinations would be very
transient, and would vary from place to place, if the sole concern of the elec-
tors were to choose representatives for the purpose of legislation: the deci-
sive impulse towards a permanently dual organisation of parties appears to
be given by entrusting to the constituencies, along with the election of mem-
bers of a central legislative assembly, the practical choice of the chief or lead-
ing members of the central executive. This choice, as we have seen, takes
place in strikingly different forms in the English and American systems re-
spectively; still, its effect both at the quadrennial presidential elections in the
United States, and at ordinary general elections in England, is to concentrate
the interest of the whole country on an electoral struggle, in which, if any po-
litical combination does not form part of the victorious majority, it has failed
so far as this contest is concerned. This gives a powerful and continually op-
erating inducement to the absorption of minor parties in one or other of two
great combinations; the force of which is further increased in the United
States by the “Spoils system”—the practice of making extensive changes in
the minor posts of the executive to reward members of the winning party—
and by the control over legislation which the veto gives to the President;
while in England, again, it is importantly increased by the practical control
over legislation which the Cabinet possesses, as a committee of leading
members of the legislature that has normally the practical power of dissolv-
ing the representative assembly when it chooses.
In this way the organs of representative government in both countries
equally—in spite of the great differences in their political systems—have
 PARTIES AND PARTY GOVERNMENT 207

come to be normally the organs of one or other of two permanently opposed

and competing parties; and, correspondingly, the hostile criticism of govern-
mental measures, carried on in the press and public meetings, is mainly di-
rected and largely supplied by the systematic effort of a defeated party to
discredit and supplant its dominant rival. It is true that this tendency to du-
ality in the composition of parties does not altogether overcome the ten-
dency to plurality; each of the two opposing parties is often composed of
parts which very imperfectly cohere, and from time to time a party breaks up
and new combinations are formed; also, independent parties of minor im-
portance may exist side by side with the two chief divisions; but in the main
the tendency to duality predominates.
§3. I shall presently consider how far it is possible, by any constitutional
arrangement, to overcome this tendency to a dual division into parties; but
before considering this, it will be well to examine carefully its drawbacks and
advantages.
The advantage that would probably first suggest itself to an Englishman,
or to a member of any European community that has imitated England in or-
ganising representative government, is the gain in stability obtained from
the dual division. Where there is a multiplicity of parties, the chances are
that no single party will have a majority in the legislature; hence any major-
ity that may be temporarily formed from a combination of parties is likely to
lack internal coherence; its elements—and similarly the elements of the op-
posing minority—will be easily separated, and easily made to recombine into
a differently composed majority and minority. In this way the instability,
which we have been led to regard as in any case a defect of English Parlia-
mentary government, is likely to be on the average much more marked if
there is not a firm dual organisation of parties.
This advantage of the dual system is mainly important when the executive
is dismissible at any time by a Parliamentary majority. The next that I shall
notice applies to a great extent to almost any mode of organising representa-
tive institutions. It consists in the more regular, systematic, and sober criti-
cism of governmental measures to which the dual party system leads. The
object of the “outs” as a party being to get “in,” it becomes the business of the
leaders to scrutinise the measures of the ministry continually and closely, and
bring to light all their weak points in order if possible to overthrow the min-
istry, or, at least, to inflict on it a loss of prestige. At the same time there are
strong inducements—apart from patriotism—to make the leaders of an op-
position, who naturally look forward to becoming ministers, abstain from at-
tacking measures that are wisely chosen and framed. For if they do not defeat
the ministers, the blow they have tried to deliver is likely to recoil on them-
selves; while, if they succeed, and bring their party into power, they may find
themselves seriously hampered in the management of affairs if circumstances
208 HENRY SIDGWICK

should arise in which a similar measure to that which they have attacked may
appear obviously expedient. In short, under the dual party system, the leaders
of the opposition tend to criticise keenly, from desire to oust the holders of
power, and yet circumspectly, being aware of the responsibilities and difficul-
ties which success, bringing power, must entail.
A more doubtful argument sometimes urged for the dual party system is
that it is required to maintain a permanent and comprehensive interest in
political struggles. With the multiple party system, it is said, the centres of
political influence would be chiefly leaders or organisers of more or less nar-
row combinations on behalf of avowedly sectional interests, or of more or
less fanatical combinations to promote certain measures of a violent change.
From such parties, it is said, the quiet steady-going citizens—who form the
best element of any electorate—would mostly stand aloof, and consequently
they would take comparatively little interest in the elections and gradually
lose the habit of fulfilling their constitutional duties. It is, I think, likely that
this result would happen to some extent from the substitution of the multi-
ple for the dual party system; i.e., I think that the latter tends to make party
feeling more general, and that strong party feeling is, in average men, a more
powerful impulse to action than a mere sense of civic duty. But I do not feel
sure that serious loss would result to the community if such of the citizens as
can only be induced to perform their electoral duties by the tie of party
should withdraw altogether from political functions.
For it is, on the other hand, a fundamental objection to the dual party sys-
tem that it tends to make party-spirit, if perhaps less narrow and fanatical, at
any rate more comprehensive and absorbing. Where parties are numerous
and limited in their scope, there are likely to be many cross-divisions, so that
persons who are opposed on some questions will be allied on others, and
there is less probability that they will regard all questions habitually and sys-
tematically from a party point of view. Whereas, where the system of two
permanently opposed parties is firmly established, the sentiment of “loyalty
to party” becomes almost as tenacious and exacting as patriotism, and some-
times almost equally independent of intellectual convictions; so that a man
remains attached to his party from old habit and sentiment, or from fear of
being called a renegade, when he can no longer even imagine that he holds
its “fundamental principles.” As sentiment and habit are thus semi-
unconsciously substituted in many cases for intellectual agreement as the
bond of party-union, the fundamental principles of either party become ob-
scure;—a result which each party keenly perceives in the case of the other,
though remaining partially unconscious of it in its own case.
One consequence of this is, that while the two-party system diminishes in
some respects the defects of parliamentary government, it intensifies them
 PARTIES AND PARTY GOVERNMENT 209

in other respects. The attack on governmental measures by the party in op-

position tends, as I have said, to be less rash and fanatical than it might oth-
erwise be; but, on the other hand, it tends to be more systematically factious
and disingenuous. Good legislation has to be avoided by the party in power,
not only when it is such as would be naturally unpopular, but when it can be
successfully discredited by partisan ingenuity; and the same cause is liable to
hamper the operation, or impair the effect of, necessary or highly expedient
measures of administration.
Again, the tendency before noted in parliamentary government of the
English type, to entrust executive power to parliamentary leaders who are
not specially qualified for their administrative functions, is aggravated by the
permanent division into two competing parties. Even if there were no such
division, a parliamentary executive would be always liable to include orators
and parliamentary tacticians devoid of administrative skill; but it might be
possible to retain in office an administrator of conspicuous merit, even
though his political opinions, in matters outside his department, were op-
posed to those of the majority for the time being; and this becomes impos-
sible when the dual division is thoroughly established.
Further, the dual system seems to have a dangerous tendency to degrade
the profession of politics: partly from the inevitable insincerity of the relation
of a party leader to the members of his own party, partly from the insincerity
of his relation to the party opposed to him. To keep up the vigour and zeal of
his own side, he has to maintain the fiction that under the heterogeneous
medley of opinions and sectional interests represented by the “ins” or the
“outs” at any particular time there is a fundamental underlying agreement in
sound political principles; and he has to attribute to the other side a similar
agreement in unsound doctrines. Thus the best political talent and energy of
the country acquires a fatal bias in the direction of insincere advocacy; indeed
the old objection against forensic advocacy as a means of obtaining right ju-
dicial conclusions—that one section of the experts employed are profession-
ally required to make the worse seem the better reason—applies with much
more real force here than in the case of the law-courts. For in the case of the
forensic advocate this attitude is frankly avowed and recognised by all con-
cerned: every plain man knows that a lawyer in court is exempt from the or-
dinary rule that binds an honest man only to use arguments which he believes
to be sound; and that it is the duty of every member of a jury to consider only
the value of an advocate’s arguments, and disregard, as far as possible, the air
of conviction with which they are uttered. The political advocate or party
leader tends to acquire a similar professional habit of using bad arguments
with an air of conviction where he cannot get good ones, or when bad ones
are more likely to be popularly effective; but, unlike the forensic advocate, he
210 HENRY SIDGWICK

is understood, in so doing, to imply his personal belief in the validity of his ar-
guments and the truth of the conclusions to which he desires to lead up. And
the case is made worse by the fact that political advocacy is not controlled by
expert and responsible judges, whose business it is to sift out and scatter to
the winds whatever chaff the pleader may mingle with such grains of sound
argument as his brief affords; the position of the political advocate is like what
that of a forensic advocate would be, if it was his business to address a jury not
presided over by a judge, and largely composed of persons who only heard the
pleadings on the other side in an imperfect and partial way.2
What has just been said applies primarily to the leading members of a
party who undertake the task of advocacy. But the artificiality of combina-
tion which the dual system involves has to some extent a demoralising effect
on other members of the legislature; they acquire a habit either of voting
frankly without conviction at the summons of the “whip,” or of feigning con-
victions which they do not really hold in order to justify their votes.
And the same cause impairs the security for good legislation, apparently
furnished by the fact that a measure can only be passed if it has the approval
of a majority of the legislators; since it increases the danger that measures
may be passed which are only desired and really approved by a minority—it
may even be a small minority if sufficiently fanatical or selfish—such mea-
sures being acquiesced in by the rest, under the guidance of their leaders, in
order to maintain the party majority.
§4. Of the gravity of these disadvantages it is difficult to form a general
estimate, as it depends largely on the condition of political morality, which is
influenced by many causes more or less independent of the form of govern-
ment: but we may reasonably regard the disadvantages as sufficiently grave to
justify a serious consideration of the means of removing or mitigating them.
The available remedies are partly political, partly moral: the former will nat-
urally vary much according to the precise form of government adopted. If
the Supreme Executive is practically dismissible at any time by a Parliamen-
tary majority—even with the possibility of appealing to the country—the
danger of transient and shifting Parliamentary majorities is so great and ob-
vious, that a nation in which the two-party system is firmly established is
hardly likely to abandon it. But the case is different with other forms of Rep-
resentative Government. For instance, where there is a supreme executive
appointed for a fixed period, without the power of dissolving Parliament,
there is less manifest need of this system than where the executive holds of-
fice on the English tenure, and less tendency, ceteris paribus, to promote its de-
velopment: since, in the former case, the party struggle in parliament is not
kept always active—as it is in the latter case—by the consciousness that the
Cabinet or the Parliament may come to an end at any moment. It is true that
 PARTIES AND PARTY GOVERNMENT 211

the example of the United States might be quoted on the other side, since
there the fixed tenure of the Presidency has not interfered with the fullest
development of dual party government that the modern world has seen.
Here, however, I conceive that (1) the election of the President by the peo-
ple at large, and (2) the “spoils” system, have operated powerfully to foster
this development: if there were a Supreme Executive elected by the legisla-
ture, with subordinate officials holding office independently of party ties, I
think it probable that the tendency to a dual division of parties—and gener-
ally the influence of party on government—would be materially reduced.
Assuming that a Parliamentary Executive is retained, the bad effects of
two-party government might still be mitigated in various ways. Substantial
portions of legislative and administrative work might be withdrawn from the
control of the party system, under the influence of public opinion, aided by
minor changes in parliamentary rules and in the customary tenure of execu-
tive offices. Firstly, as I have before suggested, on certain important ques-
tions, not closely connected with the business of the executive departments,
the preparation of legislation might be entrusted to parliamentary commit-
tees other than the executive cabinet: and the natural tendency to different
lines of divisions on different subjects might thus be allowed fair play.
Secondly, certain headships of departments, in which a peculiar need of
knowledge, trained skill, and special experience was generally recognised,
might be filled by persons not expected normally to retire with their col-
leagues, when the parliamentary majority supporting the government of
which they were members was turned into a minority; but only expected to
retire when the questions on which issue was joined between the parties re-
lated to the administration of their special departments.
Again, it would seem possible, by certain changes in the customary relation
between the Cabinet and Parliament, to reduce the danger of excessive insta-
bility of government consequent on allowing free play to the natural tendency
to a multiplicity of parties. Thus, it might be the established custom for min-
isters not to resign office because the legislative measures proposed by them
were defeated,—unless the need of these measures was regarded by them as
so urgent that they could not conscientiously carry on the administration of
public affairs without them—but only to resign when a formal vote of want of
confidence was carried against them in the House of Representatives. This
change would at once promote, and be facilitated by, an increased separation
of the work of legislation from that of administration.
Again, the introduction of the “Referendum”—even to the limited extent
suggested in chapter xxvii.3—would at any rate reduce the danger that a mi-
nority, concentrating its energies on narrow political aims, may force through
legislation not really approved by a majority of the assembly that adopts it.
212 HENRY SIDGWICK

Finally, the operation of the party-system might be checked and con-

trolled—more effectually than it now is in England and the United States by
a change in current morality, which does not seem to be beyond the limits of
possibility. It might be regarded as the duty of educated persons generally to
aim at a judicial frame of mind on questions of current politics, whether they
are inside parties or outside. If it is the business of the professional politician
to prove his own side always in the right, it should be the point of honour of
the “arm-chair” politician, if he belongs to a party, to make plain when and
why he thinks his party in the wrong. And probably the country would gain
from an increase in the number of persons taking a serious interest in poli-
tics who keep out of party ties altogether.

Notes

1. Leslie Stephen and Sidney Lee, eds. [1901] 1949. Dictionary of National Biogra-
phy. Supplement Vol. 22. Reprint, London: Geoffrey Cumberlege. Pp.
1214–1217.
2. The demoralising effect of politics under the party system seems to me an ar-
gument of weight for keeping the business of statesmanship as far as possible
unremunerated by money; the work itself is liable to be so degrading, when
carried on under the conditions above described, that its dignity can only be
maintained by its being performed gratuitously: if the business of keeping a
party together and leading it on to victory becomes a trade, it becomes a vile
trade.
3. [In this chapter Sidgwick suggests that a referendum might be used to a very limited extent to
avoid deadlock between the upper and lower chambers of Parliament, or in the case of constitu-
tional change.]
 CHAPTER 28

Governments and Parties

in Continental Europe*
Abbott Lawrence Lowell
1896

Abbott Lawrence Lowell (1856–1944) is probably best known today as a former presi-
dent of Harvard University, a post that he held from 1909 to 1933. He left his mark on
the university, and on American higher education more generally, by instituting influ-
ential changes in Harvard’s undergraduate and graduate education systems. Prior to this,
Lowell practiced law for 17 years before taking up a professorship in government at Har-
vard in 1897, a year after he published the book from which the following excerpt is taken.
This book was one of the first systematic works of comparative politics, and as such it was
well received by contemporary audiences. In it Lowell described the development of par-
tisan government in a number of European countries and sought to develop general in-
stitutional explanations for cross-national differences. In the following excerpt, Lowell
cites such factors as electoral systems, national culture, legislative structures, and direct
democracy to explain why France lacked a two-party system.1

France: Parties

F
or more than a hundred years it has been the habit to talk of govern-
ment by the people, and the expression is, perhaps, more freely used
to-day than ever before, yet a superficial glance at the history of
democracy ought to be enough to convince us that in a great nation the peo-
ple as a whole do not and cannot really govern. The fact is that we are ruled

* A. Lawrence Lowell. 1896/1897. Governments and Parties in Continental Europe. Vol. I,

2d ed. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. Pp. 69–75, 106–111.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
214 ABBOTT LAWRENCE LOWELL

by parties, whose action is more or less modified, but never completely di-
rected, by public opinion. Rousseau, indeed, shadowed forth a great truth,
when he declared that no community could be capable of a general will—or
as we should express it, of a true public opinion—where parties or sects pre-
vailed,2 and our own experience of popular government will quite justify us
in saying that public opinion is always more or less warped by the existence
of party ties. A study of the nature and development of parties is, therefore,
the most important one that can occupy the student of political philosophy
to-day. Among Anglo-Saxon peoples, who have had a far longer experience
in self-government than most other races, there are usually two great parties
which dispute for mastery in the state. But in the countries on the continent
of Europe this is not usually true. We there find a number of parties or
groups which are independent of each other to a greater or less extent, and
form coalitions, sometimes of a most unnatural kind, to support or oppose
the government of the hour. Now the existence of several distinct political
groups has a decisive influence on the working of the parliamentary system.
Let us consider this question a moment.
When a country with a parliamentary form of government is divided into
two hostile parties, the ministers who lead the majority of the popular cham-
ber must of course belong all to one of those parties, or all to the other, and
they are forced by circumstances to work in harmony. But even when party
strife is less bitter, and parties have begun to break up, experience has proved
that the best policy for the ministers is to support each other and stand or
fall together. Lord Melbourne is reported to have exclaimed at a cabinet
meeting, after a discussion on the question of changing the duty on corn,
“Now is it to lower the price of corn, or isn’t it? It is not much matter which
we say, but mind, we must all say the same.” The statesmanship implied by
this remark may not have been of the highest kind, but the politics were
sound, and showed a knowledge of the great secret of success. It is, indeed,
an axiom in politics that, except under very peculiar circumstances, coalition
ministries are short-lived compared with homogeneous ones, whose mem-
bers are in cordial sympathy with each other. Now so long as the ministers
cling together, every member of the House must consider the cabinet and its
policy as a whole, and make up his mind whether he will support it, or help
to turn it out and put in an entirely different set of ministers with another
policy. He cannot support the cabinet on certain questions and oppose it on
others. He must sacrifice details to the general question. The result is that
the members either group themselves about the ministers, and vote with
them through thick and thin, or else they attach themselves to an opposition
party, whose object is to turn out the cabinet, and then take office itself and
carry on a different policy. The normal condition of the parliamentary sys-
 GOVERNMENT AND PARTIES IN CONTINENTAL EUROPE 215

tem, therefore, among a people sufficiently free from prejudices to group

themselves naturally, and possessing enough experience to know that the
practical and attainable, and not the ideal, is the true aim in politics, is a di-
vision into two parties, each of which is ready to take office whenever the
other loses its majority. This has been true in England in ordinary times, and
although of late years it has been frequently asserted that the two great par-
ties in the House of Commons are destined to come to an end, and be re-
placed by a number of independent groups, the prophecy does not accord
with experience. It is based on the state of the Parliament of 1892, and seems
to arise from mistaking a temporary political condition for a permanent one.
The sudden interjection of the question of Home Rule into English politics
caused a new party division on fresh lines, which necessarily broke up the
traditional associations of public life, and threw both parties into a state of
confusion that has not yet disappeared. On one side, the opponents of the
measure were composed of men whose habits of thought had been most di-
verse; while the followers of Mr. Gladstone, on the other side, included many
Liberals who were forced, against their will, to subordinate to Home Rule
other matters which they deemed more important. In short, the introduc-
tion of a new issue shattered the old basis of cleavage, and it is not surpris-
ing that new, solidified parties were not formed in an instant. Moreover it
may be noticed that although the Liberal groups in the late House of Com-
mons talked freely of their dissensions, they acted as a single party, and sup-
ported the cabinet by their votes with astonishing fidelity.
A division into two parties is not only the normal result of the parlia-
mentary system, but also an essential condition of its success. Suppose, for
example, that a third party, like that of the Irish Home Rulers under Parnell,
is formed, and places some one specific issue above all others, with the de-
termination of voting against any cabinet that does not yield to its demands
on that point; and suppose this body becomes large enough to hold the bal-
ance of power. If, in such a case, the two old parties do not make a coalition,
or one of them does not absorb the new group by making concessions, no
ministry will be able to secure a majority. Every cabinet will be overthrown
as soon as it is formed, and parliamentary government will be an impossibil-
ity. Now suppose that the third party, instead of being implacably hostile to
both the others, is willing for a time to tolerate a cabinet from one of them,—
is willing, in short, to allow the ministers to retain office provided they give
no offense. Under these circumstances parliamentary government is not im-
possible, but it is extremely difficult. The ministers are compelled to ride
two horses at once. They must try to conciliate two inharmonious bodies of
men, on pain of defeat if either of them becomes hostile; and hence their
tenure is unstable and their course necessarily timid. Now the larger the
216 ABBOTT LAWRENCE LOWELL

number of discordant groups that form the majority, the harder the task of
pleasing them all, and the more feeble and unstable the position of the cab-
inet. Nor is the difficulty removed by giving portfolios to the members of the
several groups; for even if this reduces the labor of satisfying the parties, it
adds that of maintaining an accord among the ministers themselves, and en-
tails the proverbial weakness of coalition governments. A cabinet which de-
pends for its existence on the votes of the Chamber can pursue a consistent
policy with firmness and effect only when it can rely for support on a com-
pact and faithful majority; and therefore the parliamentary system will give
the country a strong and efficient government only in case the majority con-
sists of a single party. But this is not all. The opposition must also be united.
So long as the ministry stands, the composition of the minority is, indeed, of
little consequence; but when that minority becomes a majority, it must in
turn be a single party, or the weakness of a coalition ministry cannot be
avoided. It follows that a division of the Chamber into two parties, and two
parties only, is necessary in order that the parliamentary form of government
should permanently produce good results.
In France the parliamentary system has not worked well, because this
condition has not been fulfilled.3 The various groups of Monarchists and
Bonapartists have together formed in the Chambers the party of the Reac-
tionaries, or as it is more commonly called, the Right.4 The rest of the mem-
bers have been supporters of the Republic, and have formed nominally a
single party, but they have really been held together only by a desire to main-
tain the existing form of government, and have seldom acted in concert ex-
cept when they thought that [they were] threatened. They have always
comprised men of every shade of opinion, from conservatives to radicals and
even socialists, and would speedily have broken up into completely hostile
parties, if it had not been for the fear of the Reactionaries. Even under the
pressure of this fear their cohesion has been very slight, for they have been
divided into a number of groups with organizations which, though never ei-
ther complete or durable, have been quite separate; and again, these groups
have often been subdivided into still smaller groups, whose members were
loosely held together by similarity of opinions or desire for advancement,
usually under the standard of some chief, who held, or hoped to win, a place
in the cabinet. In fact, the parties in the Chamber of Deputies have pre-
sented such a series of dissolving views that it is very difficult to draw an in-
telligible picture of them.

[The author provides a short history of parties under the Third Republic, then considers sev-
eral reasons for partisan subdivisions within the Chamber of Deputies. One reason is that “the
Frenchman is theoretical rather than practical in politics.”]
 GOVERNMENT AND PARTIES IN CONTINENTAL EUROPE 217

It is partly on account of this mental attitude, and partly owing to the ab-
sence of the habit of self-government, and the lack of sympathy between
different parts of the country, that the French do not organize readily in
politics. This is the more curious because in military matters they orga-
nize more easily than any other people in the world; and it is no doubt the
military instinct, as well as the want of confidence in their own power of
political organization, that disposes them to seek a leader and follow him
blindly after he has won their confidence.5 The inability to organize read-
ily in politics has this striking result, that vehement as some of the groups
are, and passionate as is their attachment to their creeds, they make little
effort to realize their aims, by associating together their supporters in all
parts of the country for concerted action. In fact, there may be said to be
no national party organizations in France.6 The various groups into which
the deputies are divided have, as a rule, no existence whatever outside of
Parliament, the candidates for seats merely calling themselves in general
terms, Moderates, Radicals, Socialists, or simply Republicans without fur-
ther qualification, and attaching themselves to a particular group after the
Chamber has met. Moreover, the programmes, which are drawn up by
each candidate for himself, are only individual confessions of faith, and
are all different, so that there is no policy which any party as a whole is
pledged to support. Before the opening of the campaign, indeed, party
gatherings or banquets take place, and speeches are made, but at the last
general election, for example, no common platform of principles was is-
sued except by the Socialists.7 It is after the campaign has begun, however,
that the absence of party organization is most clearly seen. Then the
struggle is conducted in each electoral district with very little regard to
the rest of the country, and in fact each district appears like a separate na-
tion engaged in a distinct contest of its own.8 Political effort becomes lo-
calized, and except for the candidates themselves, who confine their
labors to their constituencies, scarcely a man of prominence opens his
mouth.9
One might suppose that, under a parliamentary form of government,
party organization would hardly be required, and that, as in England, the
need of political cohesion would be to the great extent supplied by a strong
ministry that really led Parliament and the nation. But here we meet with
some of the other causes that tend to produce a multiplicity of groups,—
causes that spring from certain of the minor French institutions which were
referred to in the beginning of the first chapter as inconsistent with the par-
liamentary system. Three of these are especially important,—the method of
electing deputies, the system of committees in the Chambers, and the prac-
tice of interpellations.
218 ABBOTT LAWRENCE LOWELL

In France the scrutin de liste, or the election of all the deputies from a de-
partment on one ticket, and the scrutin d’arrondissement, or the use of single
electoral districts, have prevailed alternately, the latter being in force at the
present day. But under both systems an absolute majority of all the votes
cast is required for election. If there are more than two candidates in the
field, and no one of them gets such a majority, a second vote, called the bal-
lotage, is taken two weeks later, and at this a plurality is enough to elect.10
Now it is clear that such a procedure encourages each political group to
nominate a separate candidate for the first ballot. Suppose, for example,
that there are Reactionary and Moderate Republican candidates in the
field, and that the Radicals prefer the Republican to the Reactionary, still
they have nothing to lose by running a candidate of their own on the first
ballot, for if the Reactionary can poll more votes than both his rivals com-
bined, he will be elected in any event; if he cannot, he will not be elected
whether the Radicals put up a candidate of their own or not. In this last
case, the first ballot will have counted for nothing, and the Radicals will be
able to vote for the Moderate Republican at the ballotage, and elect him then.
They are likely, indeed, to gain a positive advantage by nominating a sepa-
rate candidate, for if they succeed in polling a large vote on the first ballot,
they are in an excellent position to wring concessions from the Moderates
as a price of their support.
Cumbrous as it is, this system of voting dates back to the election of the
States General in 1789, and, with a couple of short breaks, has been main-
tained in France ever since.11 The idea that a representative ought to be
the choice of a majority of the people seems, indeed, to be natural in
democracies, for we find it put in practice elsewhere. Thus, in the United
States, a majority vote was formerly very commonly required for election,
but it is instructive to notice that it was found to hinder the smooth work-
ing of two political parties, and has been generally though not quite uni-
versally abandoned.12 The fact that election by majority did not give rise
to a multiplicity of parties in America shows that by itself it does not pro-
duce that result, where the other influences favor the development of two
parties; but it is nevertheless clear that where a number of groups exist, it
tends to foster them, and prevent their fusing into larger bodies.13 The
French system has been praised on the ground that it saves the people
from the yoke of huge party machines, and enables them to select their
candidates more freely.14 This is true, and it is a great advantage. But the
converse is also true; the system tends to prevent the formation of great
consolidated parties, and that is the evil from which parliamentary gov-
ernment suffers in France to-day.15
 GOVERNMENT AND PARTIES IN CONTINENTAL EUROPE 219

Notes

1. Henry Yeomans. 1948. Abbott Lawrence Lowell. Cambridge: Harvard University

Press.
2. Contrat Social, liv. ii. ch. iii.
3. This is recognized by many French writers, e.g., Lamy, La République en 1883; Paul
Laffitte, Le Suffrage Universel et la Régime Parlementaire, pt. i. ch. iii.; Saleilles, in the
Annals of the American Academy of Political Science, July, 1895, pp. 57, 64, 65. But the
reason for the existence of a number of groups in France seems to be only
partially understood. The most clear-sighted writer on this subject is Du-
priez. (See Les Ministres, vol. ii. pp. 363–65, 370–71, and 386–95.)
4. For readers unfamiliar with European polities it may perhaps be necessary to
explain the meaning of the terms Right and Left, as they are used all over the
Continent. In England a broad aisle runs from the Speaker’s desk through
the middle of the House of Commons to the main entrance opposite, and the
benches of the members are arranged parallel to this aisle and facing it. The
Ministry sit on the front bench at the right of the Speaker (the so-called
Treasury Bench), their supporters taking seats behind and alongside of them,
while the opposition sit on the left side of the House. The Liberals and Con-
servatives, therefore, are each to be found sometimes on one side of the
House and sometimes on the other, according as their party is in power or
not. But on the Continent the seats are arranged, as a rule, like those of a the-
atre, as in our legislative bodies, the ministers usually sitting immediately in
front of the Speaker or President, on a bench which sometimes faces him and
sometimes looks the other way, while the conservative members sit on the
President’s right, the more liberal next to these, and the radical on his left. As
this arrangement is permanent, the words Right and Left have come to be
generally used for Conservative and Liberal; and the different groups are
often designated by their position in the Chamber, as the Right, the Centre,
and the Left Centre, the Left, or the Extreme Left.
5. Cf. Channes, Letter of Aug. 22, 1885.
6. Cf. Lebon, France as It Is, p. 75; Theodore Stanton in the North American Rev., vol.
155, p. 471. This contrasts strangely with the United States, where the ma-
chinery of a party has sometimes shown more vitality than its principles.
7. Daniel, l’Année Politique, 1893, pp. 524–80.
8. Comte de Chaudordy, La France en 1889, p. 89.
9. Theodore Stanton, North Am. Rev., vol. 155, p. 473.
10. Law of June 16, 1885, Art. 5. (This article was not repealed by the Law of Feb.
13, 1889.) By the same article a quarter as many votes as there are voters reg-
istered is required for election on the first ballot.
11. Poudra et Pierre, liv. ii. ch. vii.
12. Stimson, Am. Statute Law, 232. In Massachusetts, election by plurality was
introduced in 1855. Const. of Mass., Amendments, Art. xiv. For the previous
law, see Const. pt. ii. ch. i. sec. II. Art. iv.; ch. ii. sec. I. Art. iii.; sec. II. Art. i.;
Rev. Stats. ch. iv. sec. xiii.
220 ABBOTT LAWRENCE LOWELL

13. At the elections of 1885, which were held under the system of scrutin de liste
there were two Republican lists of candidates in almost all the departments.
G. Channes, Letter of Oct. 30, 1885. At the elections of 1889 and 1893, held
under the scrutin d’arrondissement, there were two Republican candidates in a
large proportion of the districts, the total number of candidates for a single
seat running as high as ten. Duguet, Les Députés et les Cahiers Electoraux en 1889; Id.,
1893. And see Tableau des Elections à la Chambre des Députés, dressé aux Archives de la
Chambre.
14. Alfred Naquet, “The French Electoral System,” in the North Am. Rev., vol. 155,
pp. 467–68.
15. It is not a little curious that just at this time, when the English system of two
parties is thought by many people to be in danger of breaking up, a motion
should be made in the House of Commons to introduce election by majority
vote and second ballot. Such a motion was made by Mr. Dalziel on April 5,
1895.
 PART 5.

Party Organization
and Candidate Selection
 CHAPTER 29

Tendencies and Evils

of Political Platforms*
Ezra Seaman
1863

Ezra Seaman (1805–1880) was a lawyer who worked as clerk to the U.S. comptroller of
the treasury and later as the inspector of Michigan state prisons. He published several
books on U.S. politics, including a treatise on “the American system of government” that
went through several editions and was quickly translated into both French and Japanese.
In this excerpt Seaman decries parties’ control over nominations.1

T
he platforms adopted by nominating committees usually embrace an
affirmation of political principles, of the limited constitutional pow-
ers of the federal government, and of some leading measures and
matters of national policy; all of which involve questions of great difficulty,
and often of great delicacy, on account of local interests and prejudices. Rea-
son and sound policy seem to require that all such questions should be set-
tled by the action and concurrence of both houses of congress, after full
discussion and deliberation, consultation with the president and other exec-
utive officers, and the consideration of all the information which the execu-
tive departments of the government can furnish. They should be determined
by senators and members of congress from all the states, representing the
views and interests of all political parties and classes of people in the United
States. When questions have been so settled, fairly, not only the constitution

*Ezra Seaman. 1863. Commentaries on the Constitutions and Laws, Peoples and History, of the
United States and upon the Great Rebellion and its Causes. Ann Arbor: Journal Office. Pp.
245–47.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
224 EZRA SEAMAN

and the common obligations of loyalty to the government, but also the prin-
ciples of propriety, require that every citizen should so far acquiesce in the
decision and in the policy of the government, as to yield to the supremacy of
the law, until it shall have been changed by constitutional and proper means.
How differently political platforms are formed and adopted by partizan
conventions! They are usually hastily prepared by a committee, reported to
the convention, and adopted without much if any discussion, examination,
or consideration. They are adopted by delegates from one political party, and
are intended to promote partizan success, rather than the general welfare of
the whole country. Hence they generally appeal to local and partizan pas-
sions and prejudices, and to the cupidity, the interests, and the ambition of
particular classes of men.
They generally comprize the annunciation of a few general truths, or
assumed truths, couched in general terms, and having so vague and indef-
inite an application to the condition and wants of the country, as to admit
of different constructions by different minds. They seldom contain a full
annunciation of the principles of a party and of the programme of the in-
tended action of the party; but so much only as the leaders deem it politic
to proclaim. They are often cunningly drawn, and intended to mask the
real objects and designs of the party leaders, and the tendencies of their
measures. In proportion as the leaders of the north or the south obtain
the ascendancy in such conventions, the platform is shaped in favor of the
views of the people of that particular section. What confidence should be
placed in political platforms adopted in such a mode, and for such pur-
poses?
The tendency of conventions, platforms, and party machinery is to draw
and maintain the lines of distinction between parties as rigidly as possible—
to increase the intensity of party spirit—to secure fealty and devotion to
party, and to induce voters to support the nominees of a convention, as the
representatives of the principles of the party, without regard to the qualifi-
cations, character, or fitness of the candidates nominated.
Political platforms generally embody much truth; but it is truth more or
less exaggerated and blended with error. They have led to perversions of
the constitution by extreme parties, both north and south; misled great
numbers of the people; induced the belief among many, that the party
platform is more sacred than the constitution itself; and finally led to a
disregard of the constitution and the laws of the land.
The tendency of the system is to destroy all independence of mind in
public men—to compel them to surrender their own opinions and judg-
ments, in all respects to the party creed and to the policy of the party lead-
 TENDENCIES AND EVILS OF POLITICAL PLATFORMS 225

ers. For fear of losing caste in the party, they often do what their own judg-
ments condemn as wrong.
If the choice of presidential electors, by the people, in single districts, had
been originally provided for by the constitution, and in case of no election by
the electors, the choice had been devolved on the two houses of congress,
meeting in joint convention, each member being allowed one vote, there
would have been no occasion for nominating conventions, nor for party plat-
forms; and if the practice of the government had continued as it was during
the first twenty years after the adoption of the constitution, and men had
been elected to office on account of their qualifications and character, been
allowed freedom of action upon all public questions, without being tram-
meled by instructions and party platforms, the people of all sections of the
country would have had more confidence in the government, and been more
inclined to submit to the administration in power, and the laws of the land.
The people would have been governed more by reason, and less by party
spirit and passion, than they are now. But so long as the present system con-
tinues, and one party resorts to caucuses or nominating conventions and the
adoption of political platforms, other parties will pursue the same policy.

Notes

1. James Grant Wilson and John Fiske, eds. 1888. Appletons’ Cyclopedia of American
Biography. Vol. 5. New York: Appleton and Company. P. 446.
 CHAPTER 30

Party Organizations and

Their Nominations to Public Office
in New York City*
A. C. Bernheim
1888

Abram C. Bernheim (1866–1895) was a native New Yorker who was educated at Co-
lumbia College and the University of Berlin. In addition to being a lawyer who held a
seat on the New York stock exchange, Bernheim was active as a philanthropist. He also
published articles on a variety of political and social subjects. In 1894, only a year before
Bernheim’s untimely death, Columbia College appointed him as a permanent lecturer in
the field of New York state political history. In this excerpt, Bernheim contrasts local po-
litical organization in the United States and Europe and explains why the New York
party organizations are so much more developed than their counterparts in the major
European cities.1

C
onstitutional government tends to become a rule of parties; and
where this phase of government has prevailed longest, as in England,
this tendency is most marked. And just as the political history of the
United States is included in the rise and fall of the Federalist, the Democra-
tic, the Whig, and the Republican parties, so is that of the city of New York
in the development and disappearance of their local organizations. As a re-
sult of the extension of the elective principle to judicial and administrative
as well as political offices, party rule in America has become “machine rule;”

*A. C. Bernheim. 1888. “Party Organizations and Their Nominations to Public

Office in New York City.” Political Science Quarterly 3: 99–122.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
228 A. C. BERNHEIM

and our state and city history affords a graphic illustration of this develop-
ment. The officers elected for the government of New York city alone are
seventy in number: viz., the mayor, the comptroller, the president of the
board of aldermen, one alderman in each of the twenty-five districts, a sher-
iff, a county clerk, a register, four coroners, a district attorney, six justices of
the superior court, six justices of the court of common pleas, six justices of
the city court, one district court civil justice in each of the eleven judicial dis-
tricts, a recorder, two judges of general sessions, a city judge, and a surrogate.
In addition to these the city voters choose at the same time their national
and state officers: the electors for president and vice president of the United
States and nine congressmen, the governor, secretary of state, comptroller,
treasurer, attorney-general, state-engineer and surveyor, the judges of the
supreme court and court of appeals, and twenty-four assemblymen and
eleven senators, elected according to districts.
The importance of the nominating machinery in America receives espe-
cial emphasis when this endless catalogue of public officials, dependent on
party nomination and chosen by popular election, is brought into contrast
with the list of elective offices in the European constitutional states. Neither
in England, France nor Germany, do the electors vote for candidates for any
executive, administrative or judicial office; election is confined to the leg-
islative offices. In London, Paris and Berlin, the voters choose by election the
city aldermen and, in the two last mentioned cities, the members of some
unimportant councils. They vote also for the city representatives in the na-
tional legislature: in London, for the members of Parliament; in Paris, for
those of the Chamber of Deputies; and in Berlin, for those of the Imperial
Diet and also for members in the Prussian Diet. Public elections are not held
in these cities to fill any other offices, national or local.
Political institutions are the outgrowth of political conditions. The New
York party organizations and their method of nominations to public office
are clearly the result of the number and the importance of the elective of-
fices; and they have no counterpart in London, Paris or Berlin. A national
party organization, based on state, county, and ward or district associa-
tions, all equally well disciplined, each with a permanent executive com-
mittee and a permanent chairman, usually the party dictator—this, the
American party organization, nominating and electing all national, state,
and local officers, is unknown in England, France or Germany. Political
clubs, devoted to their party principles, exist in these European countries,
and they are the only form of permanent party organization. They advo-
cate doctrines dear to the Liberal or the Conservative, in England; to the
Bonapartist, the Monarchist or the Republican, in France; to the Conser-
vative, the National-Liberal, the Ultramontane or whatever else the party
 PARTY ORGANIZATIONS AND THEIR NOMINATIONS TO PUBLIC OFFICE 229

man styles himself, in Germany. They support and encourage party princi-
ples, not individuals; although, at times, they use their influence in nomi-
nations and lend their assistance in the campaign to the party candidates.
No club established merely to nominate candidates to public office could
take root in those countries, where the elections are infrequent and the
elective offices few, any more than a party organization created solely to
nominate candidates for the presidency could flourish in America. These
clubs are to be found in the principal cities; their basis is not party suffrage,
but club membership; though partly social in purpose and spirit, the con-
ditions of admission are political; their connection with other associations
of the same party, if there be any, is very slight.
In England, the leading clubs are located in London. The best known are
the Carlton, the Conservative, the Junior Carlton, St. Stephens, the Reform,
the Devonshire and the Liberal. Nominations, though frequently made by
the clubs or at their suggestion, emanate at times from other sources; it may
be from self-nomination, from family influence in the rural districts, or from
a conference of party voters in the cities.
In France, the political clubs represent about the same influence and ac-
tivity; they are to be found chiefly in Paris. The members of the Chamber of
Deputies, in groups called comités determined by party sympathy and neigh-
borhood relations, usually make the nominations and manage and conduct
the national elections.
In Germany, the party organism is almost equally undeveloped. The lead-
ing political parties have clubs in the more important cities. They frequently
suggest available candidates, and the names suggested are submitted to pub-
lic meetings, whose function is understood to be ratification rather than dis-
cussion. Except perhaps at the annual reunion of the party leaders, known as
the Parteitag, held for the adoption of the party platform, conventions and
delegates are unknown. Even at these meetings the various clubs are not al-
ways, nor as a rule, officially represented; the leading members of the party
throughout the empire assemble there without formal call or credentials.
This is the German substitute for national conventions and delegates.
Neither in Paris nor in Berlin nor in London are there any permanent po-
litical associations which arrogate to themselves the right to make all nomi-
nations to public office; nor is there any absolute uniformity in the method of
the selection of candidates. The political clubs, in so far as nominations are
made by them, represent aristocratic rather than democratic influences. Mr.
Bright and Mr. Chamberlain, advocates of radicalism in party organization as
well as in party policy, desired to establish an association to be based on the
suffrages of the voters of the Liberal party and not merely on club member-
ship. But their avowed purpose was “to submit to the federated associations
230 A. C. BERNHEIM

political questions and measures upon which united action may be considered
desirable.” Even their elaborate plan was intended to define and ascertain the
party principles, not to select the party candidates.
The early forms of party activity in the United States, and especially in the
state and city of New York, were equally simple. Nominations were usually
made by legislative caucus: by congressmen for national elections, and by
state legislators for state officers. But at that time the political constitution
of the state and city was totally different, and much more in harmony with
the institutions of the European states of to-day. For more than thirty years
after the adoption of the constitution of the United States, the only munic-
ipal officers chosen by election in New York city were the aldermen and the
constables. All other local and all state officials, except the governor, assem-
blymen and senators, were appointed by the council of appointment. Early
in this century, Aaron Burr, and later Martin Van Buren and the Albany re-
gency, used the enormous powers of this council to influence the action of
the caucus. This interference and the radical changes made by the constitu-
tion of 1821, which widened the suffrage and largely increased the number of
elective offices, strengthened the demand of the people for a more represen-
tative nominating body. In that year, with the rallying cries of “no more leg-
islative nominations,” “the people must be heard,” the convention plan was
introduced. The object of the change was to popularize and purify party ac-
tion. The convention, as Thurlow Weed said, was intended to realize “the
policy of nominations emanating directly from the people instead of from
the legislative caucus.”
Nominations to public office are still made by conventions; and the ten-
dency to enlarge the number of elective offices prevails. In New York city, as
we have seen, seventy officers are chosen by popular election for the govern-
ment of the city alone. Under these circumstances the question is pertinent:
Do nominations to public office emanate from the people?

[Bernheim continues with an extended description of the Tammany Hall political machine and
its role in primary elections in New York.]

These are the results of an impartial investigation of primary elections in

New York city. They prove clearly that the party elections are all non-repre-
sentative, and conducted with an equal disregard of law and of honesty. The
candidates chosen through them reflect in very many cases these conditions;
they do not always, merely because in some of the assembly districts of this
city the rule of the ignorant and the vicious would not be tolerated, and can-
didates representing their ideas and purposes would not command the suf-
frages of the party voters.
 PARTY ORGANIZATIONS AND THEIR NOMINATIONS TO PUBLIC OFFICE 231

These facts restrain and control the bad influences of corrupt primaries,
but they do not remove them. Neither does an independent press nor a con-
scientious discharge of the duties of citizenship on election day; they miti-
gate but do not root out the evils.
Already it is evident either that the present legislative control of the pri-
mary elections and conventions of political parties is insufficient and inad-
equate, or that the existing, and in fact any legislative control is unnecessary
and undesirable. If the latter be true, the act of 1887 should be promptly re-
pealed; if the former, the evils of corruption at primaries and of their re-
sulting non-representative nominations to public office are of sufficient
importance to warrant a further and a more complete state supervision.
There is a marked tendency to-day towards a governmental control over
many subjects to which it was foreign some decades ago. Though at times it
is the part of wise statesmanship to hesitate in a further extension of gov-
ernmental powers, yet it should be remembered that this tendency is the re-
sult of changed conditions which must be recognized in order better to
guarantee the personal liberty and the personal security of the citizens. The
printing and distribution of ballots by the state, a subject now favorably dis-
cussed at public meetings and by the press, is a departure towards a larger
governmental activity which would have startled our ancestors; but it is not
the less needful and important. On the purity of primary elections depend
good nominations and, quite as truly, efficient public officials; for the party
label in almost every case commends the candidate to the electors; his trade
mark is voted for, and not his character. Many states, accordingly, have
found legislation in the direction of primary control wise and important.
California, Colorado, Connecticut, Illinois, Ohio, and Pennsylvania, among
others, have laws of greater or less stringency concerning the primary elec-
tions; and these are already productive of good results.2 The New York law
of 1887, though quite comprehensive, should not have been restricted to the
organizations that might be pleased to observe it. And it is inadequate in its
failure to provide for an enrollment or registration of party electors as a
condition precedent to voting at the primaries. Enrollment of the qualified
voters is as necessary to party elections as is registration at public elections.
While the voters are vaguely defined as being “in unison” or “in sympathy,”
as in the by-laws of Tammany Hall and of the County Democracy; or so
long as the voting privilege is dependent on admission to a club, which is
given or denied capriciously, as in the Republican party,—so long will party
elections be non-representative. The conduct of these elections and the
count of the votes should be assumed by the state. The guaranty of a fair
vote, which such state control alone can give, will make the primary elec-
tions as popular as public elections.
232 A. C. BERNHEIM

[Bernheim quotes from a newspaper editorial column describing corrupt party primaries in the
past.]

This article may raise a question in the minds of some of the readers whether
Tammany and the County Democracy and the Republican organization of
New York city stand for the principles embodied in their platforms. The an-
swer, which is sufficiently obvious, suggests a second question: What do
these organizations represent if they are not true to those principles? Here
again the answer is not doubtful. The platform of all these organizations is:
The professional politician and public office for him. The politician of to-
day does not enter public life inspired by a patriot’s devotion to his country;
he finds in it an opportunity of earning a livelihood with little effort. He
often respects the commandments, and loves his family; but politics is to him
a business.
Perhaps this article has afforded additional proof that the party organiza-
tions do not represent the party majority nor even its worthy leaders; that its
decisions are the automatic registration of the decrees of the party boss; that
the party name is but the trade-mark which the politicians have found it
profitable to assume; and that the exclusive control which the professional
politicians, as leaders of the party organizations, now enjoy in the selection
of candidates to public office, and the unquestioning submission which the
party voters give to their nominations, are eminently dangerous to Republi-
can institutions.

Notes

1. Isidore Singer, ed. 1967. The Jewish Encyclopedia. Vol. 3. New York: KTAV Pub-
lishing House Inc. P. 95.
2. A correspondent from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, writes Jan. 21, 1888, as fol-
lows: “I have just closed a protracted trial of an election fraud case under our
primary laws with a conviction of the entire board of election officers. I think
that is an answer to the question as to whether the bosses run the primaries
to their satisfaction.”
 CHAPTER 31

Party Organizations*
James Bryce
1891

James (Viscount) Bryce (1838–1922) was a British politician and legal scholar who
published The American Commonwealth after making three visits to the
United States. Bryce was first elected to the House of Commons in 1880 and had al-
ready held a minor cabinet post under Gladstone before he embarked on this two vol-
ume analysis of American political institutions and political culture. Like Tocqueville
before him, Bryce was a perceptive foreign observer whose work made sense to those he
studied. His book was widely hailed on both sides of the Atlantic. After writing this vol-
ume Bryce continued to sit in the House of Commons and held various governmental
posts, including serving a brief stint as Chief Secretary for Ireland. He nevertheless
found time to issue three revised editions of the book between 1889 and 1910. He served
as British Ambassador to the United States from 1907 to 1913 and received a peerage
upon his retirement from this post. In this excerpt from a chapter on party organiza-
tions, Bryce lists what would later be called the “functions” of parties and describes how
one of them—candidate selection—has played a particularly important role in shaping
party organizations in the United States.1

T
he Americans are, to use their favourite expression, a highly exec-
utive people, with a greater ingenuity in inventing means, and a
greater promptitude in adapting means to an end, than any Euro-
pean race. Nowhere are large undertakings organized so skilfully; nowhere
is there so much order with so much complexity; nowhere such quickness

*James Bryce. 1891. The American Commonwealth. 2d ed. London: Macmillan. Pp. 72–92.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
234 JAMES BRYCE

in correcting a suddenly discovered defect, in supplying a suddenly arisen

demand.
Government by popular vote, both local and national, is older in America
than in continental Europe. It is far more complete than even in England. It
deals with larger masses of men. Its methods have engaged a greater share of
attention, enlisted more ingenuity and skill in their service, than anywhere
else in the world. They have therefore become more elaborate and, so far as
mere mechanism goes, more perfect than elsewhere.
The greatest discovery ever made in the art of war was when men began
to perceive that organization and discipline count for more than numbers.
This discovery gave the Spartan infantry a long career of victory in Greece,
and the Swiss infantry a not less brilliant renown in the later Middle Ages.
The Americans made a similar discovery in politics some fifty or sixty years
ago. By degrees, for even in America great truths do not burst full-grown
upon the world, it was perceived that the victories of the ballot-box, no less
than of the sword, must be won by the cohesion and disciplined docility of
the troops, and that these merits can only be secured by skilful organization
and long-continued training. Both parties flung themselves into the task,
and the result has been an extremely complicated system of party machinery,
firm yet flexible, delicate yet quickly set up and capable of working well in
the roughest communities. Strong necessity, long practice, and the fierce
competition of the two great parties, have enabled this executive people to
surpass itself in the sphere of electioneering politics. Yet the principles are so
simple that it will be the narrator’s fault if they are not understood.
One preliminary word upon the object of a party organization. To a Eu-
ropean politician, by which I mean one who knows politics but does not
know America, the aims of a party organization, be it local or general, seem
to be four in number—
Union—to keep the party together and prevent it from wasting its
strength by dissensions and schisms.
Recruiting—to bring in new voters, e.g., immigrants when they obtain cit-
izenship, young men as they reach the age of suffrage, new-comers, or resi-
dents hitherto indifferent or hostile.
Enthusiasm—to excite the voters by the sympathy of numbers, and the
sense of a common purpose, rousing them by speeches or literature.
Instruction—to give the voters some knowledge of the political issues
they have to decide, to inform them of the virtues of their leaders, and the
crimes of their opponents.
These aims, or at least the first three of them, are pursued by the party or-
ganizations of America with eminent success. But they are less important
than a fifth object which has been little regarded in Europe, though in Amer-
 PARTY ORGANIZATIONS 235

ica it is the mainspring of the whole mechanism. This is the selection of party
candidates; and it is important not only because the elective places are so nu-
merous, far more numerous than in any European country, but because they
are tenable for short terms, so that elections frequently recur. Since the par-
ties, having of late had no really distinctive principles, and therefore no well-
defined aims in the direction of legislation or administration, exist
practically for the sake of filling certain offices, and carrying on the machin-
ery of government, the choice of those members of the party whom the party
is to reward, and who are to strengthen it by the winning of the offices, be-
comes a main end of its being.
There are three ways by which in self-governing countries candidates may
be brought before electors. One is by the candidate’s offering himself, ap-
pealing to his fellow-citizens on the strength of his personal merits, or family
connections, or wealth, or local influence. This was a common practice in
most English constituencies till our own time; and seems to be the practice
over parliamentary Europe still. Another is for a group or junto of men influ-
ential in the constituency to put a candidate forward, intriguing secretly for
him or openly recommending him to the electors. This also largely prevailed
in England, where in counties four or five of the chief landowners used to
agree as to the one of themselves who should stand for the county; or chose
the eldest son of a duke or marquis as the person whom his rank designated.2
So in Scotch boroughs a little knot of active bailies and other citizens com-
bined to bring out a candidate, but generally kept their action secret, for “the
clique” was always a term of reproach. The practice is common in France now,
where the committees of each party recommend a candidate.
The third system is that in which the candidate is chosen neither by him-
self nor by the self-elected group, but by the people themselves, i.e., by the
members of a party, whether assembled in mass or acting through represen-
tatives chosen for the purpose. This plan offers several advantages. It
promises to secure a good candidate, because presumably the people will
choose a suitable man. It encourages the candidate, by giving him the weight
of party support, and therefore tends to induce good men to come forward.
It secures the union of the party, because a previous vote has determined that
the candidate is the man whom the majority prefer, and the minority are
therefore likely, having had their say and been fairly outvoted, to fall into line
and support him. This is the system which now prevails from Maine to Cal-
ifornia, and is indeed the keystone of transatlantic politics. But there is a fur-
ther reason for it than those I have mentioned.
That no American dreams of offering himself for a post unless he has
been chosen by the party3 is due not to the fact that few persons have the
local pre-eminence which the social conditions of Europe bestow on the
236 JAMES BRYCE

leading landowners of a neighbourhood, or on some great merchants or em-

ployers in a town, nor again to the modesty which makes an English candi-
date delay presenting himself as a candidate for Parliament until he has got
up a requisition to himself to stand, but to the notion that the popular mind
and will are and must be all in all, that the people must not only create the
office-bearer by their votes, but even designate the persons for whom votes
may be given. For a man to put himself before the voters is deemed pre-
sumptuous, because an encroachment on their right to say whom they will
even so much as consider. The theory of popular sovereignty requires that
the ruling majority must name its own standardbearers and servants, the
candidates, must define its own platform, must in every way express its own
mind and will. Were it to leave these matters to the initiative of candidates
offering themselves, or candidates put forward by an unauthorized clique, it
would subject itself to them, would be passive instead of active, would cease
to be worshipped as the source of power. A system for selecting candidates is
therefore not a mere contrivance for preventing party dissensions, but an es-
sential feature of matured democracy.
It was not however till democracy came to maturity that the system was
perfected. As far back as the middle of last century it was the custom in
Massachusetts, and probably in other colonies, for a coterie of leading citi-
zens to put forward candidates for the offices of the town or colony, and
their nominations, although clothed with no authority but that of the indi-
viduals making them, were generally accepted. This lasted on after the Rev-
olution, for the structure of society still retained a certain aristocratic quality.
Clubs sprang up which, especially in New York State, became the organs of
groups and parties, brought out candidates, and conducted election cam-
paigns; while in New England the clergy and the men of substance contin-
ued to act as leaders. Presently, as the democratic spirit grew, and people
would no longer acquiesce in self-appointed chiefs, the legislatures began to
be recognized as the bodies to make nominations for the higher Federal and
State offices. Each party in Congress nominated the candidate to be run for
the presidency, each party in a State legislature the candidate for governor,
and often for other places also. This lasted during the first two or three
decades of the present century, till the electoral suffrage began to be gener-
ally lowered, and a generation which had imbibed Jeffersonian principles had
come to manhood, a generation so filled with the spirit of democratic equal-
ity that it would recognize neither the natural leaders whom social position
and superior intelligence indicated, nor the official leadership of legislative
bodies. As party struggles grew more bitter, a party organization became nec-
essary, which better satisfied the claims of petty local leaders, which knit the
voters in each district together and concentrated their efforts, while it ex-
 PARTY ORGANIZATIONS 237

pressed the absolute equality of all voters, and the right of each to share in
determining his candidate and his party platform. The building up of this
new organization was completed for the Democratic party about the year
1835, for the Whig party not till some years later. When the Republican
party arose about 1854, it reproduced so closely, or developed on lines so sim-
ilar, the methods which experience had approved, that the differences be-
tween the systems of the two great parties are now unimportant, and may be
disregarded in the sketch I have to give.4
The essential feature of the system is that it is from bottom to top strictly
representative. This is because it has power, and power can flow only from
the people. An organization which exists, like the political associations of
England, solely or mainly for the sake of canvassing, conducting registration,
diffusing literature, getting up courses of lectures, holding meetings and
passing resolutions, has little or no power. Its object is to excite, or to per-
suade, or to manage such business as the defective registration system of the
country leaves to be fulfilled by voluntary agencies. So too in America the
committees or leagues which undertake to create or stimulate opinion have
no power, and need not be strictly representative. But when an organization
which the party is in the habit of obeying, chooses a party candidate, it exerts
power, power often of the highest import, because it practically narrows the
choice of a party, that is, of about a half of the people, to one particular per-
son out of the many for whom they might be inclined to vote.5 Such power
would not be yielded to any but a representative body, and it is yielded to the
bodies I shall describe because they are, at least in theory, representative.

Notes

1. Edmund Ions. 1968. James Bryce and American Democracy. London: Macmillan.
2. Thus in Mr. Disraeli’s novel Tancred the county member, a man of good birth
and large estates, offers to retire in order to make room for the eldest son of
the Duke when he comes of age.
3. It may sometimes, though rarely, be a schismatic or recalcitrant section of the
party, as will be seen hereafter.
4. What makes it hard to present a perfectly accurate and yet concise descrip-
tion is that these are variations between the arrangements in cities and those
in rural districts, as well as between the arrangements in different States.
5. The rapid change in the practice of England in this point is a curious symp-
tom of the progress of democratic ideas and usages there. As late as the gen-
eral elections of 1868 and 1874, nearly all candidates offered themselves to the
electors, though some professed to do so in pursuance of requisitions emanat-
ing from the electors. In 1880 many—I think most—Liberal candidates in
boroughs, and some in counties, were chosen by the local party associations,
238 JAMES BRYCE

and appealed to the Liberal electors on the ground of having been so chosen.
In 1885 nearly all new candidates were so chosen, and a man offering himself
against the nominee of the association was denounced as an interloper and
traitor to the party. The same process has been going on in the Tory party,
though more slowly.
 CHAPTER 32

Political Organizations in
the United States and England*
James Bryce
1893

This is an excerpt from an article Bryce wrote for the North American Review, a
respected and widely read general interest journal. In this analysis, Bryce once again
builds on the comparison between British and American parties, asking why British
party organizations are weaker than their American counterparts, and using his answer
to frame more general principles about party development.

A
lthough democratic governments not only existed, but were copi-
ously discussed by political philosophers, more than two thousand
years ago, the world has as yet had very little experience of the rule
of numbers as applied to large populations. Switzerland and Norway, no less
than the republics of antiquity, of the middle ages, furnish data of compara-
tively little service to great nations like Germany and Italy, for democracy in
small communities is evidently quite a different thing from what it is in large
ones. France has been democratic only since 1871, England only since the two
great Franchise Extension and Redistribution Acts of 1884 and 1885. Thus it
is only in the United States that the problem of governing a great state by the
vote of large masses of men has been worked out with any approach to com-
pleteness, and those who in the old world seek to forecast the course of their
own popular governments must look for light beyond the Atlantic. This is
especially the case as regards the organization of political parties. No one has

*James Bryce. 1893. “Political Organizations in the United States and England.”
North American Review 156: 105–118.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
240 JAMES BRYCE

yet written the natural history of parties, though Burke has some admirable
reflections upon the uses and dangers of this kind of government. No one of
the best-known European authorities on political science, such as Toc-
queville in the last generation, or Bluntschli, Schérer, Bagehot and Laveleye
in our own, has recognized the importance of the part which is played in
large democracies by what may be called the mechanism of the parties.
Party government is a species of war, conducted by ballots instead of bul-
lets. The efficiency of the contending hosts depends hardly less on their dis-
cipline than on their numbers, because scattered voting is even worse than
scattered firing. A small party which is cohesive and obeys its leaders will
prevail in a campaign, if not in a battle, against a larger party which breaks
into fractions. This has been forcibly brought home to people in England by
the recent general election, in which the Tory party did not lose a single seat
by internal divisions, while the two allied oppositions, British and Irish, had,
both, to regret defeats, owing to the drawing off by rival candidacies of large
groups of voters.
Before proceeding to comply with the request made to me to furnish
some account of party organizations of Great Britain as compared with those
of the United States, it is well to account for the rudimentary character of
the former. Some American readers may fancy that our British backwardness
is due to a deficient interest in political strife. So far is this from being the
case that there has never been a time when political interest was keener than
from 1876 till now; nor has any election since 1832 been fought, with as much
fierceness as that which is closing as I write (July, 1892). The causes why
party organizations have been less developed in the United Kingdom may be
best understood by noting what are the causes which have stimulated their
creation and extension in the United States.
I. In the United States the number of elections is very great, vastly ex-
ceeding that to be found in any European country. The system of urban and
rural local government which prevails over the Eastern, Middle, and West-
ern States, requires the election of many representative bodies for areas of all
sizes; while the practice of choosing executive officers by popular vote in-
stead of having them, as in Europe, nominated either by the central govern-
ment or by the local representative council, still further increases the
occasions on which the people are called upon to declare by ballot their pref-
erences. The federal structure of the government adds another set of assem-
blies to those which European countries (except federal Switzerland)
require, with another set of elections. Moreover, in America, representatives
and officials are usually chosen for short periods, so that the occasions for
choosing them occur very frequently. Hence the need for keeping a party to-
gether for fighting purposes is a need continuously felt, a need which not
 POLITICAL ORGANIZATIONS IN THE UNITED STATES AND ENGLAND 241

only obliges the organization to be always “on war footing,” but gives it that
dexterity and exactness of drill which come from unintermitted practice.
II. In the United States, while there are incessant elections for small areas,
such as city wards and townships, there are also elections where the area is very
large and the number of voters enormous—such as the elections of State offi-
cers and of congressmen. Nothing but an active and well-built organization
can manipulate these huge masses, and turn them from a mob into an army.
III. Over the greater part of the United States the lines of political party
do not coincide with those of class distinction, or of any other kind of dis-
tinction, such as trade or religion. Party, therefore, cannot avail itself of such
other forms of social or economic organization as may exist, but must create
fresh ones for its own purposes. Moreover a large proportion of the popula-
tion is new to the country and its institutions, ignorant, migratory. It will
vote wildly, or will not vote at all, unless it is seized, enlisted, drilled by the
recruiting agents and inferior officers of the party machinery.
Compare with these conditions those of Great Britain.
In Great Britain elections are comparatively few. The only one which ex-
cites much political interest, that for the House of Commons, comes on an
average but once in four years. Elections for city councils, county councils,
and even school boards, are now beginning to be fought upon party lines, but
the first was seldom a party affair till some twenty or thirty years ago, while
school boards date only from 1870, county councils from 1888. Thus both
the need for machinery to handle voters and the opportunities for working
that machinery have been comparatively slender. When a parliamentary
election came round, a system of committees sprang into being to meet the
emergency; but when the emergency had passed the committees were dis-
solved, and the organization practically went to pieces. It is not yet clear
whether the interposition between parliamentary elections of the minor
ones just referred to will do much to keep the party machinery in a state of
constant readiness for work.
In Great Britain the masses of voters to be manipulated have till recently
been, on an average, small. Even now few parliamentary constituencies ex-
ceed twelve thousand voters, while many are below eight thousand, numbers
manageable by extemporized committees.
In Great Britain the people are not only far more settled in their
dwelling-places than in America, but are grouped and organized by a variety
of social, religious, and economic bonds which scarcely exist in the newer
parts of the latter country. The influence of rank counts for something, that
of wealth for a vast deal. Employers, if they have any tact, are often able to
carry their workers with them, and may venture to appeal to, or even put
pressure on, the latter in a way which American opinion would not tolerate.
242 JAMES BRYCE

So the clergy of not a few denominations interfere in politics. Those of

the Established Churches of England and Scotland have been active of late
years on the Tory side. English Non-conformist ministers occasionally ap-
pear on the platforms of the other party, while in Ireland the Episcopalian
and Presbyterian ministers in Ulster seem at the recent election to have ri-
valled the Roman Catholic priests of the southern provinces in their politi-
cal exertions. Thus voters can be moved in many other ways than by purely
political machinery, and the parties find ready made to their hand in the in-
fluences of land-owners and capitalists, or industrial magnates, or ecclesias-
tics, methods of swaying the constituencies often more effective than the
regular party associations. Nor must it be forgotten that the issues upon
which most of our British parliamentary contests have been fought, have
been clearer and sharper issues than those raised between the two great
American parties since 1868, and have in many cases turned upon the exten-
sion of the political privileges of the masses. The people have been so excited
by questions touching themselves directly, as to need the stimulus of party
methods far less than has usually happened in the United States, at least
since the election of 1868.
However, the most important difference between the two countries lies in
this, that in Great Britain there are extremely few persons who have any di-
rect personal interest, affecting their pocket or their status, involved in the
victory or defeat of a party. Setting aside the holders of, and aspirants to, the
thirty or forty places which change hands with the ministry of the day, and
the somewhat larger but still quite insignificant number of persons who
hope for those few posts in the permanent civil service which remain within
the free patronage of ministers, or who seek to become peers or baronets,
there is nobody to whom it makes any pecuniary difference which party is in
power. Hence, whoever works for his party works disinterestedly, and can
seldom afford to give more than a small part of his time to the work. We have
in England no paid political workers, except the secretaries of the political
associations, and they are paid just the same whether their party is in or out.
How different things are in the United States, and what have been the re-
sults of the spoils system there, everybody knows. It cannot be doubted that
the completeness and effectiveness of the party machine there is largely due
to the fact that it commands the service of so great a number of men who
have a direct money interest in the success of their party.
Americans who weigh the considerations, and perceive how different are
the conditions of politics in the two countries, will not be surprised to find
the organization of parties in Great Britain far less perfect than in America.
It is also worth remarking that although the main aim of every organization
is to win elections, this aim is pursued in different ways in the United States
 POLITICAL ORGANIZATIONS IN THE UNITED STATES AND ENGLAND 243

and in Great Britain. In the United States the efforts of those who work are
concentrated on the selection of candidates and the getting hold of voters.
In Great Britain, on the other hand, while the latter object is supremely im-
portant, the selection of candidates has not hitherto demanded great exer-
tions. Much attention has had to be given to the registration; that is, to
seeing that duly qualified voters of one’s own side are put upon the voting
roll and non-qualified opponents are struck off. Probably we in Great
Britain devote relatively more pains to political education, not only by dis-
tributing pamphlets and leaflets, but also by arranging meetings and lectures.

[Bryce continues his comparison of British and American party organizations.]

Both our great British parties profess to be dissatisfied with their organiza-
tions; both exhort their followers to stricter discipline, as well as to more ac-
tive coöperation in local political work. So far as party associations and clubs
tend to stimulate a knowledge of politics and honest thinking about them,
they do good; and it is also a gain that when an election arrives the greatest
possible number of voters should be brought to the polls. Nor does there
seem to be danger that Great Britain will see, as the United States has seen,
selfish rings in cities gaining the control of the party machinery and working
it to their own sinister purposes, because we have a permanent civil service,
and scarcely any paid offices conferred by direct popular vote. It is personal
pecuniary interest, rather than political passion, that makes the party ma-
chine so dangerous in free governments.
Nevertheless it may be doubted whether British politics will gain by that
more elaborate and effective organization of party forces which has been in
progress among us and seems destined to grow still further in strength.
Party is, after all, only a means to an end, and must not be suffered to be-
come an end in itself; while the attempt to drill a party too rigidly has some-
times the effect of driving independent men out of political work
altogether. There is, moreover, a sense in which it may truly be said that the
more of party organization the less of the free play of public opinion. It is
desirable that there should be in the country a large proportion of persons
who, while watching politics intelligently and alive to the duty of voting at
every election, are not so blindly attached either to their chiefs, or to their
party traditions and prejudices, as to be unable to deal at each election with
both parties on the merits, throwing their weight on this side or on that ac-
cording to the character of the leaders as well as to the nature of the issues
involved. Nothing else keeps the parties in order.
It is no small gain to the government of a great state that the judgment
pronounced by the nation at a general election should be a broad and decisive
244 JAMES BRYCE

judgment, expressed in a strong majority for one or other policy and party.
And this result is more apt to be secured when there remains a large number
of those who, looking to principles and performance, refuse to be dominated
by mere party machinery.
 CHAPTER 33

Party Organization*
Henry Jones Ford
1898

Henry Jones Ford (1851–1925) worked for more than 33 years as a writer and editor for
newspapers in Baltimore, New York, and Pittsburgh. After retiring from the newspaper
business, he continued to lecture and write about politics as a professor of politics and
government at Princeton University. While working as a journalist Ford certainly had
plenty of opportunities to observe the corruption and other problems associated with the
municipal and state party organizations which dominated politics in the late nineteenth
century. He was not oblivious to these problems, but, as this excerpt shows, he also was
sensible to parties’ contributions to democratic politics.1

P
arty is as old as politics, and the operation of party in working the
machinery of government is seen in all countries having free insti-
tutions; but of party as an external authority, expressing its deter-
minations through its own peculiar organs, the United States as yet offers
to the world the only distinct example, although tendencies in that direc-
tion are showing themselves in England. There is still, however, nothing
of which the British Parliament is more intolerant than an assumption
that there exists any constitution of authority exterior to its own, which
can claim to give expression to the will of the people. No less keen a jeal-
ously might have been expected from the Congress of the United States,
which, according to the constitution, directly represents both the people
and their state governments. Assuredly nothing would have been more in-

*Henry Jones Ford. 1898. The Rise and Growth of American Politics. New York: The
Macmillan Co. Pp. 294–307.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
246 HENRY JONES FORD

comprehensible and astonishing to the framers of the constitution than to

have been informed that a political jurisdiction would be established, un-
known to the constitution and without warrant of law, whose determina-
tions would be recognized as entitled to delineate the policy of the
administration and bind the proceedings of Congress. Such obligation,
though constantly paltered with by faction interests and continually
evaded by tricky politicians, is nevertheless unreservedly admitted. To
such an extent is this submission carried that it is not an uncommon thing
for members of Congress to admit that they are acting under the compul-
sion of such obligation against their own judgment.
Although party organization asserts jurisdiction over the constitutional
organs of government, its own pretensions to a representative character
have a very slight basis. The theory of party organization is that its power
emanates directly from the people, by means of a system according to
which the party membership, at primary elections, choose delegates who
meet to state the party principles and name the party candidates. In prac-
tice, few people besides the politicians have any share in the transaction. As
a rule, the vote at primary elections is very small, and even when excep-
tional circumstances bring out a large vote, it is still small as compared with
that polled at a regular election. In many cases there is hardly the pretence
of an election by the party membership, but the politicians frankly bargain
among themselves who shall attend the conventions and figure as party
representatives. The total vote polled for the members of a national con-
vention, which nominates the President and declares policy to be pursued
by the government, is but a small percentage of the vote polled at a con-
gressional election.
What is still more significant is the fact that there appears to be no con-
nection between the extent to which a constituent quality has been imparted
to a convention, and the force with which its decisions appeal to public con-
fidence and support. So far as the appearance of representative character in
party organization is concerned, it is generally greatest when its subjection to
professional management is most complete. In an old party, which has ac-
quired a valuable stock of traditional sentiment and popular attachment, the
reciprocal efforts of struggling factions have evolved a stringent code of reg-
ulations to prevent unfair advantages, and their mutual jealousies insure vig-
ilant attention to regularity of procedure. A spontaneous movement, issuing
from popular enthusiasm, is tolerant of irregularity in method. It welcomes
without question those whose heart is in the cause. The convention of a new
party has largely the character of a mass-meeting. Established usage requires
some observance of the form of delegation, but practically any one of re-
spectability and standing, who is in sympathy with the movement, may take
 PARTY ORGANIZATION 247

part in the proceedings. A reform movement will eagerly cluster around a

self-constituted leadership, while the regular political boss in selecting can-
didates must carefully respect the form of nomination by delegates from the
people. The Committee of Seventy, appointed by some citizens’ associations,
nominated a ticket which swept New York City in the election of 1894, while
the Tammany ticket, regularly nominated by a body of genuinely constituent
character, was defeated.
Such considerations make it plain that the true office of party organiza-
tion is that of a factor. It carries on a self-assumed procuration in the name
of the people and by their acquiescence, but not by their desire. The appear-
ance of a representative character is the result of arrangements gradually ef-
fected under pressure of a demand that the emoluments and opportunities
of this business of factorship should be open to competition. This view of
the case is fully confirmed by the history of party organization sketched in
the preceding chapters. The occasion for it was the need of means of con-
centration so as to establish a control over the divided powers of govern-
ment. Party machinery was devised under the stimulus of necessity and has
been submitted to because there was no help for it. A paradoxical phrase,
often used in regard to this very matter, puts the case exactly as the people
regard it. It is a necessary evil.
The development of party organization has been elaborate and extensive
in keeping with the vast expansion of the nation and the multifarious polit-
ical activities of our complicated system of government. The struggles of the
people to convert the government to democratic uses have introduced com-
plications which have greatly enlarged the functions of party organization
and intensified their energy.

[Ford relates the growth of party organization to the “multiplication of elective offices” at var-
ious levels of government.]

Thus by a perfectly natural process of evolution, the structure and functions

of party organization have been elaborated, so as to comprehend the politi-
cal activity of American citizenship from the minutest subdivision of local
government up to the formation of a national administration. Party organi-
zation selects candidates for innumerable offices; it superintends the perpet-
ual succession of elections; its operation is continuous. Since politics in all
their gradations have their connections with trade and society, the activities
of politics permeate the whole sphere of civic life.
The community of interest thus established causes party organization to
exercise a moderating influence of immense importance. When the con-
vention system was established, its direct appeal to the people, followed by
248 HENRY JONES FORD

numerous mass-meetings and floods of oratory, excited a violence of party

feeling that horrified statesmen of the old school. “Here is a revolution in
the habits and manners of the people,” wrote John Quincy Adams in his
diary. “These meetings cannot be multiplied in number and frequency with-
out resulting in deeper tragedies. Their manifest tendency is to civil war.”2
Calhoun had no doubt that “the appeal to force will be made whenever the
violence of the struggle and the corruption of parties will no longer submit
to the decision of the ballot-box.”3
But history plainly shows that party spirit has not had any such ten-
dency. On the contrary, party organization long repressed the operation of
the forces which did indeed eventually produce civil war. Before the slav-
ery question could be brought to the front as the decisive issue of national
politics, an entirely new and purely sectional party had to be formed. Na-
tional party organization held the Union together long after the South
had become at heart a separate nation, from the distinct interests and pur-
poses developed by slavery. As early as the forties, great religious denom-
inations split into Northern and Southern divisions. Calhoun, in his last
speech, called attention to the manner in which tie after tie was snapping.
But still party organization continued to bear the strain, and it was the last
bond of union to give way. Then war or disunion became inevitable. After
the war, the powerful agency of party organization was again displayed in
the rapidity with which the revolted section was reincorporated into the
life of the nation.
The truth is that a remarkable nonchalance underlies the sound and
fury of partisan politics. The passionate recrimination that goes on is like
the disputes of counsel over the trial table. Back of it all is a substantial
community of interest. The violence of politicians does not usually go
higher than their lips. The antagonists of the stump have a really friendly
feeling for one another. It is not an uncommon thing for professional
politicians of opposing parties to display a spirit of mutual good will and
helpfulness in promoting the personal political interests of one another.
The extraordinary thing about American party politics is really their
amenity. Public sentiment, while permitting great license of speech, exacts
a decorum of behavior that is surprising to English visitors, accustomed as
they are to popular turbulence—the howling down of speakers, storming
of platforms, and scuffling of excited partisans. There is in this country an
immense business preparation for a campaign, an enormous investment in
spectacular effects and stage properties, and a prodigious display of en-
thusiasm, culminating in the thrilling scenes of election night; but as soon
as the result is fully known, it is good-humoredly accepted and the people
eagerly return to their ordinary business pursuits.
 PARTY ORGANIZATION 249

This curious circumspection that attends the periodical national mood of

party frenzy is traceable to the same moderating influence that developed a
constitutional system of party government in England—the succession of
opportunity in enjoyment of the offices of government. Burke’s expressive
metaphor fits the case exactly. “The parties are the gamesters; but govern-
ment keeps the table.” No matter how passionately they contend, they will
take care that they do not kick over the table and lose the stakes. The same
influence is seen in the way in which party spirit reacts against mob spirit. By
its habit of consulting and flattering all interests, party spirit may encourage
mob spirit up to a certain point; but when the limits of fair accommodation
are overpassed, there is a sudden change of attitude and a fierce energy is
shown in repressing disorder.
The true office of the elaborate apparatus used to work up popular ex-
citement over party issues is to energize the mass of citizenship into polit-
ical activity. Although so dissimilar in character, national party
organization fulfils a function similar to that indirectly accomplished in
England by royal prerogative during the period when it was really massive;
but with the important difference that, whereas then the various classes of
the population were fused into political community by the weight of roy-
alty, party spirit now draws them together by ardent sympathies which
elicit a copious and constant supply of political force. Their operation ex-
tends far beyond the sphere of the intelligence, for they thrill and pene-
trate the bottom strata of character,—the inheritance of ancestral habit
moulded by tribal discipline, the deposits of race experience throughout
the ages,—bringing into play those deep instincts of which we are uncon-
scious, but which constitute the wisest part of us.
This nationalizing influence continues to produce results of the greatest
social value, for in coördinating the various elements of the population for
political purposes, party organization at the same time tends to fuse them
into one mass of citizenship, pervaded by a common order of ideas and sen-
timents, and actuated by the same class of motives. This is probably the se-
cret of the powerful solvent influence which American civilization exerts
upon the enormous deposits of alien populations thrown upon this country
by the torrent of emigration. Racial and religious antipathies, which present
the most threatening problems to countries governed upon parliamentary
principles, melt with amazing rapidity in the warm flow of a party spirit
which is constantly demanding, and is able to reward, the subordination of
local and particular interests to national purposes. The extent to which acci-
dents of foreign nativity or extraction are made use of, to constitute what is
know in politics as “a vote,” is generally regarded as the great weakness of
American politics, but it is really a stage in the process of fusion.
250 HENRY JONES FORD

Notes

1. The National Cyclopaedia of American Government. 1931. Vol. 21. New York: J. T.
White. P. 14.
2. Memoirs, Vol. X., p. 352.
3. Calhoun’s Works, Vol. I., pp. 378, 379.
 CHAPTER 34

Democracy and the Organization

of Political Parties*
Mosei Ostrogorski
1902

Moisei Ostrogorski (1854–1919) was a Russian lawyer who worked in the Russian Min-
istry of Justice for several years before he emigrated to France in 1884, a refugee from
tsarsist absolutism. Once in Paris he enrolled in the Ecole Libre des Sciences Poli-
tiques, a new school devoted to the scientific and comparative study of politics. Ostro-
gorski researched his study of English and American political parties during much of the
1880s and 1890s. The first of the two volumes of this work, completed by 1896, focuses on
the rise of the Liberal Party’s municipal organizations (“the Caucus”) during the 1880s.
The second volume, on parties in the United States, was largely completed by 1900. It
then was translated from the French and published in 1902, appearing first in English,
and only later in French. The following excerpts include selections from the concluding
summaries of both the English and American volumes. Both reveal Ostrogorski’s convic-
tion that party organization is pernicious, even though it apparently arises to serve the
needs of mass democracy.1

Parties in England

T
hese effects of the dwindling of individuality and the growth of
formalism in political life, which have come to light in each of the
different aspects from which we have successively considered the
work of the Caucus, culminate and are summed up in a way in the highest

*Mosei Ostrogorski. 1922. Democracy and the Organization of Political Parties, 2 vols. Trans-
lated by Frederick Clarke. New York: Macmillan Co. Pp. I: 590–595, II: 539–68.

S.E. Scarrow (ed.), Perspectives on Political Parties

© Susan E. Scarrow 2002
252 MOSEI OSTROGORSKI

sphere of political relations, that of the leadership. This sphere had all the
less chance of escaping them because the leadership was the visible objec-
tive of the Caucus, and provided it with its casus belli. Having gone to war
with party leadership, held by the representatives of the old ruling classes,
the Caucus has not annihilated it—far from it; but it has subdivided it, bro-
ken it into fragments, or, if the expression is preferred, decentralized it; the
leaders belonging to the upper middle class, the men of means and social
position, have had to share their power with the crowd of small local lead-
ers created by the autonomist organization of the Caucus. But, by working
out autonomy and decentralization in too formal a way, with a multiplicity
of subdivisions, in accordance with the strict logic of the democratic prin-
ciple, the Caucus has succeeded mainly in bringing forward local mediocrity,
and then installing it in the counsels of the party. The local man with lim-
ited views, who, left to his own resources, would never have been able to
thrust himself on his fellow-citizens, has been hoisted up by the mere play
of the machinery of the Caucus, automatically, so to speak. While these
small leaders were rising to the surface, the old leaders, who were theoreti-
cally overthrown, but in reality still standing, saw their prestige decline,
their influence diminish, and this twofold action produced a general level-
ling, which tended to shorten the average stature of public men, to make the
type a poorer one.
The qualities which they had to prove the possession of, in accordance
with the principles of the Caucus, and the means by which they were
henceforth able to succeed, thanks to the methods of the Caucus, made
this result inevitable. Unqualified adhesion to the official creed of the
party having become the supreme political virtue which singled a man out
for the confidence of his fellow-citizens in the discharge of every public
duty, and his claims being made clear to them by the machinery of the Or-
ganization, which aimed especially at the imagination, the personal worth
of the individual became of less importance. From the men of the ward
meeting, in which strict observance of political routine or zeal as a
“worker” marks out the “earnest politician,” up to the parliamentary rep-
resentatives, not to mention the town councillors, who are obliged to swear
political allegiance, the virtues of public men became more and more for-
mal and external, so to speak.
The deterioration of the men in charge of public affairs can be clearly dis-
cerned already; we have seen it break out more strongly in municipal life since
the Caucus introduced party orthodoxy into it and placed its machinery at its
disposal. Parliament has not been spared either; the choice of the Caucus,
contrary to the promises of its founders, does not always fall on men of a class
superior to that from which the national representation was recruited before
 DEMOCRACY AND THE ORGANIZATION OF POLITICAL PARTIES 253

the advent of the Caucus; the average of its nominees bears the stamp rather
of mediocrity. The Caucus has by no means ousted the plutocratic element
from Parliament nor from the counsels of the party. It needs it itself to pro-
vide for the upkeep of its machinery. Even the influence of social rank proved
to be indispensable to the Caucus; being unable to turn out of its own mould
genuine leaders who are raised above the multitude by some superiority, and
who consequently command their respect, the Caucus has been obliged to ac-
cept, and often apply for, the services of the leaders of the old formation,
while depriving them, however, of the feeling of dignity and responsibility
imparted by the autonomous exercise of power. Although constituting an ob-
stacle to the democratic eagerness of the popular and advanced element of
the party, the middle-class leaders are carried along much farther than their
real convictions and prejudices would permit of, through fear of still more
impairing their authority, which they have to protect by devices of manage-
ment, now that they cannot use it without any disguise. When all is said and
done, the monopoly of the leadership, which the Caucus undertook to de-
stroy, has only assumed another aspect; a little more divided and left much less
to the natural selection determined by the spontaneous play of social forces,
it is more manufactured, and it is more than ever inspired, if not solely, at all
events in the main, by wire-pulling, with a diminution of responsibility for
those who pull the wires. So that, if there were no danger in conclusions of a
too sweeping kind, it might be said that the monopoly of the leadership which
was held by the representatives of the old ruling classes tends to give place to
a monopoly of wire-pullers backed by plutocrats.
In any event, the rôle of the wire-puller, and in general of the “worker” of
the party, is growing; all the importance lost by social rank in party life has
been gained by the “worker”; his zeal and skill are becoming a claim to the
leadership. And this is all the more natural, and almost legitimate, because
the methods developed by the Caucus have made his “work” not an impro-
vised duty at the moment of the election, but a continuous occupation of an
extremely absorbing kind, and demanding daily attention. The multiplicity,
the variety, and the intensity of the efforts exerted by the organizations have
made electioneering business exceedingly complicated; “it has become quite
a science,” as is said, not without complacency, by representatives of the party
Organization; “it is now quite a business,” say others, “and you must attend
to it as to a business.” To keep the small local leaders in working trim, they
must be occupied; to rouse the masses from their indifference, they must be
stirred up and stimulated unremittingly. “Political work” is never slack. In
every constituency there is now a fairly large number of persons who are
constantly thinking about “politics,” intent on electioneering schemes; in
other words, political professionals.
254 MOSEI OSTROGORSKI

True, the type of these political zealots created by the Caucus in England
has not the objectionable features of the “professional politician” of other
countries; he is not a parasite, who lives on society and makes politics a trade,
often a low trade. The number of persons who live exclusively by “politics,”
although increased by the Caucus, is not yet a large one. They are (I am still
speaking of the extra-constitutional sphere) the secretaries of Associations,
the employés of the central and provincial Organization, the “missionaries,”
and the lectures or other political agents. Even at a liberal computation they
would hardly reach the figure of 2000 for the whole of England, with Scot-
land and Wales. Still they are becoming a marked body in the midst of soci-
ety; the Caucus has given them a permanent status, and the “political agents”
are beginning to form, if not exactly a separate class, at all events a guild.
They already have a collective consciousness of themselves; they possess
their professional societies, their benefit clubs. The best foretaste, however,
of the professional politician is given rather by the small local leaders created
by the organizations of the Caucus. These men seldom make money out of
their political situation, but most of them always expect some advantage
from it, if not in cash, at all events in some other form. To a certain degree,
comparatively slight, they can count on the public offices granted to the win-
ning side for services rendered. These places are by no means numerous; the
government service is almost free from the taint of party politics. But in the
municipal administration the subordinate offices are too often distributed as
a political reward since the Caucus has sanctioned the transformation of
local elections into contests of political parties. The recent development of
State functionarism, brought on, for instance, by legislation for the protec-
tion of labour, also provides some places which are sought and obtained by
means of politics; thus a certain number of labour leaders, secretaries of
Trade Unions, who are on the look-out for workshop and factory inspector-
ships, join the party Associations for the purpose of obtaining the posts to
which they aspire by their assistance. Others among the small local leaders,
who have no administrative ambitions, hope that their activity in the Orga-
nization will do them good in business, in their trade, or get them on in some
other way. In short, without creating the regular type of “professional politi-
cian,” the Caucus, to meet the requirements of election business, which it
had made extremely intricate, has brought into the field and grouped in per-
manent regiments a whole contingent of small people, who devote them-
selves methodically to “politics” from more or less interested motives, which
need not always assume a mercenary aspect to produce their demoralizing
effect on public life.
The ultimate result, then, is that the Caucus, which aimed at hastening
the democratic process in English political society, has succeeded only in a
 DEMOCRACY AND THE ORGANIZATION OF POLITICAL PARTIES 255

superficial, purely apparent fashion. The popular form of the party Organi-
zation merely enables the latter to penetrate deeper into the masses for the
purpose of capturing them more easily, and not for giving them indepen-
dence. The design which the Caucus undertook to carry out, of making the
entire life of the people “an organized whole,” of making “political and mu-
nicipal life a consistent, earnest, true, and enthusiastic life, instead of a spas-
modic electioneering impulse,” has utterly failed. The Caucus has in no way
helped to raise the tone of public life. Far from liberating it from unwhole-
some social influences, it has made its Organization, which cleverly super-
intends the process, an instrument of “social bribery” practised for the
party’s benefit. It has not increased material political corruption, but it has
encouraged the deterioration of the mind of the electorate. The election-
eering impulse is no longer “spasmodic,” it is true; it has no doubt been
transformed into steady “work,” but performed by a special contingent of
“workers,” who only sow the seed of the “professional politician” more
deeply in English soil; in society as a whole the political pulse does not beat
quicker. On the contrary, in preventing the development of a spontaneous
political life by its machinery, in offering a permanent obstacle to the free
exercise of the judgment, the Caucus tends rather to enfeeble the public
mind. It only strengthens political party passion. Blotting out independent
thought and enervating the will and the personal responsibility of the voter,
the Caucus ends in obliterating the individual, after having undertaken to
establish his political autonomy up to the farthest limits of the extraconsti-
tutional sphere. Attacking the old leaders as if they were an impediment to
this autonomy, the Caucus has struck a blow at the leadership in general, by
disparaging the qualities which constitute leadership in a healthy political
community, that is, the personal superiority conferred by knowledge and
character, and exalting the conventional and external qualifications en-
forced by stereotyped methods. In making these qualifications and methods
an engine of government, the Caucus bids fair to set up a government by
machine instead of a responsible government by human beings.
[ . . .]

Parties in the United States

The American system of party organization, which we have considered in

its various aspects, was the outcome and the expression of triumphant
democracy. The eclipse of the old ruling class, which became definitive after
the first quarter of the last century, appeared to leave the individual, now a
member of the sovereign people, in possession of the field. To secure the
256 MOSEI OSTROGORSKI

full enjoyment of his rights over the commonwealth, and to facilitate the
discharge of his political duties, which were growing more and more com-
plicated through the extension of the democratic principle to its furthest
limits, and more and more burdensome owing to the great economic out-
burst which absorbed every energy—the citizen accepted the services of the
party Organization formed on the representative method. This extra-con-
stitutional Organization assumed a twofold function in the economy of the
new political system: that of upholding the paramount power of the citizen,
and of ensuring the daily working of the governmental machinery in a
democratic community whose volume was continually increasing with un-
precedented rapidity, and whose composition was becoming more and more
heterogeneous.
In the first of these two undertakings the Organization failed miserably,
in the second it achieved a relative success. The government rested almost
entirely on the elective system, nearly all the office-holders were elected,
and the shortness of their terms of office made it necessary to replace them
very frequently. How could the citizen, if left to himself, have grappled with
this onerous task, which consisted in filling up such a number of places, and
which was continually recurring? The system of nominating conventions,
established on the basis of parties, provided a way out of the difficulty. By
preparing the election business beforehand, by putting it cut and dried be-
fore the elector, the party Organization enabled the citizens to discharge
their duty in an automatic way, and thus keep the government machine con-
stantly going. Far from being embarrassed by the growing number of the
electors, the party Organization made room for them, installed them in the
State. In the case of electors of foreign extraction it did more; it was the first
to assimilate the immigrants from the four quarters of the globe with the
American population; by sweeping them, almost on their arrival, into its
net, it forthwith made these aliens sharers in the struggles and the passions
which were agitating the country in which they had just landed. It brought
together and sorted all the elements of the political community, well or ill,
but in the end everything found its place and settled down. And as in the
improved machines of our day, which take in the raw material and turn it
out transformed, these accumulated elements supplied the driving power of
which the governmental machinery stood in need. The refuse even con-
tributed to this purpose; everything was turned to account, the dregs of the
population as well as the élite.
But this result, a highly important one, was obtained at the cost of the cit-
izen’s power, of the freedom of his political conscience, and of his influence
in the State. Instead of giving him a firmer grasp of the government, the
Caucus system has seriously weakened his hold thereon, for it diminished
 DEMOCRACY AND THE ORGANIZATION OF POLITICAL PARTIES 257

the efficacy of the machinery of government, provided by the constitution,

as well as that of the living forces which are its real motor.
The executive was the first to give way. The convention movement
claimed to infuse fresh vigour into it by withdrawing the Presidency from
the intrigues of aristocratic cliques, such as the Congressional Caucus, and
by making it emanate directly from the people. The electoral college, which
was established by the framers of the constitution, and which had already
been practically reduced to a cipher by that caucus, thenceforth took its or-
ders from universal suffrage. But the latter has never been able to exercise
its power itself, the new system has left it only a choice between two can-
didatures, which is often a choice of two evils,—the candidatures being set-
tled beforehand by professional politicians under the influence of a host of
calculations and considerations among which it is not always easy to dis-
cover a concern for the public interest. The representative character of the
President could not therefore be enhanced under the régime of the de-
mocratized Caucus; the President was not able to become, through its
agency, the tribune of the people, as he is sometimes represented, since it
is not to the people that he primarily owed his office, and it is therefore not
to the people or to the people alone that he was responsible, but to the
party Organization. Having made itself the real bestower of the candida-
tures and sole contractor for the presidential election, the Organization
laid hold of the Presidency for the party. The President ceased to be head
of the nation, and became head of a party. And, even then, he was head of
the party only in name; he was not at liberty to assert his initiative, to give
the party a policy, to form comprehensive designs and far-reaching plans
on its behalf, for all the interests of the party were reduced to the immedi-
ate preoccupations of its Organization, to its appetites, which sought sat-
isfaction in the patronage entrusted to the President by the constitution.
The President was left with the rôle of grand cup-bearer of the party.

[Ostrogorski makes a few more remarks about the changing presidency.]

However, Congress, which usurped the powers of the executive, which

gained what the latter lost, has also lapsed from the high place assigned to it
by the framers of the constitution. The Caucus was one of the principal, if
not the principal agent of this fall. The Senate of the United States no longer
has any resemblance to that august assembly which provoked the admiration
of the Tocquevilles. It would be no use looking for the foremost men of the
nation there; neither statesmen nor orators are to be found in it. In wisdom,
in balance, in dignity, the States’ chamber is far inferior to the popular
branch of Congress. The Senate no longer acts as a conservative element, as
258 MOSEI OSTROGORSKI

a brake for checking popular impulses, for moderating heedless ardour; on

the contrary, it is this assembly which often gives the signal for extravagant
conduct either in financial matters or in the sphere of foreign politics. The
Senate is, for the most part, filled with men of mediocre or no political in-
telligence, some of whom, extremely wealthy, multi-millionaires, look on the
senatorial dignity as a title for ennobling their well or ill gotten riches; oth-
ers, crack wire-pullers, State bosses, or representatives of large private indus-
trial or financial concerns, find the Senate a convenient base of operations
for their intrigues and their designs on the public interest; others, again,
without convictions or without definite or well-matured ideas but sensitive
to every breath of public opinion and fond of vulgar popularity, act as the
noisy mouthpieces of every movement which flatters the susceptibilities of
the crowd. They represent everything save enlightened opinion, to which
they do not pay the slightest heed.
And it is through the Caucus that these men, especially those of the first
two categories, get into the Senate; the State Legislatures, which elect the
Senators of the United States, are composed of creatures of the Machine,
and they bestow the senatorial office on the favourites of the party Organi-
zation. In the States ruled by the bosses, the boss, if he wants to go into the
Senate, has but to hold up his hand, and the most eminent competitor will
be sacrificed to him without further ado, were he of the stamp of the Web-
sters or the Clays. The rich men buy a seat in the Senate from the party Or-
ganization for cash, with scarcely any disguise; if they do not “make” the
Legislature with their own money, on the method of Jay Gould, they sub-
scribe very liberally to the funds of the Organization; and the latter, to dis-
charge its obligation to them, procures them the dignity of Senator—it
orders its liegemen in the Legislature to vote for them.

[Ostrogorksi makes further remarks about the Senate.]

The havoc wrought in the House of Representatives is less conspicuous, be-

cause the contrast between what it was and what it is, is not so flagrant, and
the House even conveys the impression of having gained in dignity. But in
reality the standard of the Representatives and their political manners have
undoubtedly deteriorated. The men who find their way into the assembly are
those who have succeeded in “getting the delegates,” or in ingratiating them-
selves with the Machine or the boss. All their habits and all their political
methods have, consequently, been formed by the practice of the petty expe-
dients, of the paltry combinations and compromises on individuals and in-
terests, of the “deals,” which are the life-breath of the primaries and
conventions. The custom which confines the choice of candidates to local
 DEMOCRACY AND THE ORGANIZATION OF POLITICAL PARTIES 259

residents helps to narrow the political intelligence and to lower the morality
of the people’s representatives. And these men enter Congress as slaves of
the Machine and the boss, of sordid parochial considerations, or of powerful
private interests, industrial or financial, which are so often in league with the
Machine. One or other of these servitudes of mind and conscience, or even
all combined, is what they have to pay for their seat. The House therefore is
simply a diet of representatives of private or local interests, and it has been
aptly remarked that every interest is represented in it except the public in-
terest. The members make common cause against the latter by lending each
other their votes, on condition that the loan is returned, upon the log-rolling
system, in order to obtain the special law or the money appropriation in
which they are interested. The appropriations are their principal objective
and, so to speak, their principal victim.

[Ostrogorski continues his discussion of the effects of parties on the Congress.]

Congress is deficient at every point; it fails to protect the public purse, to

administer the finances, to safeguard the credit of the country, and to pass
the necessary laws. Its power, whether legitimate, or usurped, as in the case
of the Senate, is expended in demonstrations and manoeuvres which aim at
the applause of unthinking mobs, and in the service of private interests.
Under the régime of the separation of powers, a degenerate Congress might
have been held in check by the executive; the latter might have afforded
protection against the extravagances of the legislative; but the executive it-
self has been weakened by the Caucus, being left with no means of action
but its constitutional right of veto, and often not feeling sufficiently strong
to make use of this weapon. Thus the Caucus, without preventing, as we
have seen, the mischievous effects of the separation of powers, has nullified
all its advantages.

[Ostrogorski continues with a summary of the effects of party organization in state and mu-
nicipal government.]

Having failed in its purpose of serving as an instrument of government and

of providing the latter with its mainspring in the form of leadership, party
has not achieved more success in the fundamental duty which is assigned
to it, and which consists in organizing public opinion, in giving it expres-
sion. Instead of moulding opinion, the Caucus maimed it by forcing it into,
and keeping it within, the groove of the stereotyped parties. It crippled the
character and the intelligence of the citizen. Having monopolized the
nomination to elective offices, it propagated, to get itself accepted, the
260 MOSEI OSTROGORSKI

convention of “regular” candidatures, introduced by the congressional cau-

cus, and established it more firmly on that other convention of the will of
the majority, which it claimed to represent by the mere character of its con-
stitution. Continually invoking this majority and paying it ritual homage
by the routine of its proceedings, it made external conformity the sole cri-
terion which dispensed with private judgment and individual responsibil-
ity. Henceforth even a “yellow dog” had to be voted for, once he was put on
the party ticket. The ticket could not be meddled with on pain of sacrilege,
the party had become an object of fetish worship. For the individual con-
science, party piety substituted the discipline of the party. To make that
discipline binding, the Caucus created an ethics of its own; it created con-
ventional virtues—“party loyalty,” “party regularity,” and conventional
vices—“bolting,” “scratching”; the man who severed his connection with
the party was a “kicker,” a sort of public malefactor, whereas he who fol-
lowed the party with his eyes shut was a “patriotic citizen.” Political for-
malism permeated the mind of the citizen, and wrought general havoc
therein. It discouraged independence of thought, initiative, and self-
confidence; it put a premium on the selfishness of the citizen who wanted
to shirk concern for the public welfare and devote all his energies to
money-making. Why, indeed, should he concern himself? Did not the
party Machine provide the elector with his convictions, did it not prescribe
to him his conduct, his political sympathies and antipathies, the choice of
men—all cut and dried and ready for use? Being thus pressed and accus-
tomed to fall into line, he soon became afraid of leaving ranks; the fear of
not being a regular, of appearing heterodox and schismatical, developed in
him that deference to the world’s opinion which makes a man lose himself
in the crowd in a humble and even cowardly fashion; having grown timid
and timorous, he was perfectly content to creep behind the majority, and
to drift along with the “people” in its ways as unfathomable as those of
Providence. Moral and intellectual opportunism appeared as the sovereign
dictate of wisdom as well as of the democratic creed. What Mr. Bryce calls
the “fatalism of the multitude”—the tendency to acquiescence and submis-
sion and the sense of the insignificance of individual effort which would
seem to be characteristic of democratic communities—received an almost
dogmatic confirmation.
Civic courage shrivelled up in this atmosphere like a body exposed to the
cold. No one ventured to raise his voice and protest loud enough. The vic-
tims themselves of the pirates of the machine, gagged representatives of the
people, companies blackmailed by the bosses, preferred to submit and hold
their peace, rather than appeal to the public. The interest which they be-
lieved they had in holding aloof, their selfish cowardice, found an excuse in
 DEMOCRACY AND THE ORGANIZATION OF POLITICAL PARTIES 261

the exigencies of party. Respect for the convention of party, for form, was too
strong even for citizens of perfectly independent means and unimpeachable
honesty; their party loyalty inspired them with infinite indulgence for these
pirates who chose to hoist the party flag.

Notes

1. Seymour M. Lipset. 1968. “Ostrogorskii, Mosei Ia.” In The International Ency-

clopedia of the Social Sciences. Vol. 11, ed. David Sills. New York: Macmillan. Pp.
347–350; Quagliariello, Gaetano. 1996. Politics without Parties. Aldershot, UK:
Avebury.
INDEX
Abt, Gottlieb Christian, 193–7
Austin, John, 135–9
Bernheim, A. C., 227–32
Bagehot, Walter, 141–5
Bluntschli, Johan Caspar, 75–81, 160,
173, 183
Bolingbroke, Henry Saint-John,
Viscount 29–32, 142
Brougham, Henry Peter, Lord, 51–6,
142
Bryce, James, 233–8, 239–44
Burke, Edmund, 37–43, 113–14,171,
203
cabinet, 200, 211
campaigns, 217, 248
candidate selection, 99–102, 227–32,
235–6
conventions, 225, 230, 246–7
primary elections, 99–100, 230–1,
246
candidates, 151, 258–9
coalitions, 88, 152, 202, 214–6
Congress, 164–66, 257–9
corruption, 127–32, 135–9, 355
Cree, Nathan, 103–6
elections, 78, 205–6, 228–9, 240–1
primaries, see candidate selection
faction, 30, 33–5, 37–8, 46–8, 80–1,
84, 173
Ford, Henry Jones, 245–50
franchise, 9, 11, 14–15, 20–1, 64, 117,
170–1
Grey, Henry George, Earl, 127–33
Grimke, Frederick, 57–65
Guizot, François, 71–4
House of Commons, see Parliament
Hume, David, 33–6
Krug, Wilhelm Traugott, 121–6
Laveleye, Émile de, 147–55
Lilly, Willam, 169–74
Lowell, Abbott Lawrence, 213–20
Mohl, Robert von, 83–90
monarch, and parties, 29–31, 77, 200
Morse, Anson, 91–8, 99, 107–18
Ostrogorski, Mosei, 251–61
Parliament, British, 7–10, 141–4,
200–1
parliamentary government, 211
parties
and principles, 35–6, 40–2, 53–4,
80, 96, 109–12, 149, 178
formation of, 71–4, 75–6, 85, 184–6
functions of, 59–61, 96–7, 234–5
partisanship (party spirit), 47–8, 58,
78–9, 86, 103–6, 161, 208, 224,
248
party competition, 67–9
party government, 52–3, 122–4, 138–9,
151, 158, 163–7, 169–74, 240
party loyalty, 81, 86,142–3, 152, 164–5,
208, 260,
party machine, 242–3
party organization, 108–9, 217,
228–30, 233–7, 239–44, 245–50,
251–61
party spirit, see partisanship
party system, 87–8, 199–204
and electoral system, 218
two-party, 88, 199–200, 205–11,
214–16
264 INDEX
party types
ages of man, 187–91
great and minor, 178
personal and real, 34–6, 90 n. 8
political platforms, 101, 223–5
President, United States, 166–7, 211, 257
primary elections, see candidate selection
referendum, 211
Richardson, Charles, 99–102
Rohmer, Friedrich, 160, 183–92, 193–4
Seaman, Ezra, 223–5
Sidgwick, Henry, 205–212
Struve, Gustav, 67–9
suffrage, see franchise
Tocqueville, Alexis de, 177–81
Treitschke, Heinrich von, 157–62,
199–204
Washington, George, 45–8
Wilson, Woodrow, 163–7