Government and the Arts of Obedience 9780231883160

Table of contents :
Acknowledgments
Content
Introduction
1. Custom and Convention
2. Conflict and Coercion
3. Domination
4. Command
5. Leadership
6. Administration
7. Representation
Conclusion
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Government and the Arts of Obedience

GOVERNMENT and the ARTS OF OBEDIENCE

WILLIAM

KING'S

W.

HOLLISTER

CROWN

PRESS

Morningside Heights : New York 1948

Copyright 1948 by WILLIAM W .

HOLLISTER

Printed in the United States of America

KING'S CROWN PRESS

is a division of Columbia University Press organized for the purpose of making certain scholarly material available at minimum cost. Toward that end, the publishers have adopted every reasonable economy except such as would interfere with a legible formal. The wor\ is presented substantially as submitted by the author, without the usual editorial attention of Columbia University Press.

To my father and mother

of this sort owes much to many sources. Above all I am indebted to Professor Herbert W. Schneider for the advice, time, and encouragement he has given to this enterprise. I wish also to thank Professor John H. Randall, Jr., for the help he has given. Professor James Gutmann, Dr. Edwin Garlan, and Mr. Robert Binkley have read the manuscript and have made constructive suggestions. What is expressed herein is, of course, my own responsibility. I am very grateful to my wife for the patience and time which have served the preparation of this book. I wish to thank the following persons and publishing companies who kindly gave me permission to quote excerpts from their publications. Appleton-Ccntury, Crofts, Inc., Locke's Treatise of Civil Government, edited by Charles L. Sherman; G. Bell & Sons, Ltd., Hegel's Philosophy of Right, translated by S. W. Dyde; Ernest Benn, Ltd., Prestige by Lewis Leopold; Columbia Law Review, "Force and the State . . . ," by Robert L. Hale; E. P. Dutton & Company, Leviathan, by Hobbes; Ginn and Company, Constitutional Government and Democracy, by Carl J. Friedrich; Harcourt, Brace and Company, Ideology and Utopia and Man and Society in an Age of Reconstruction, by Karl Mannheim; Houghton Mifflin Company, Mein Kampf, by Adolf Hitler, translated by Ralph Manheim; Longmans Green & Company, Kant's Metaphysics of Ethics, translated by Thomas K. Abbott; The Macmillan Company, Social Control, by E. A. Ross, and A Study of the Principles of Politics, by George E. G. Catlin; Minton, Balch and G. P. Putnam's Sons, Quest for Certainty, by John Dewey; Rinehart and Company, Presidential Leadership, by Pendleton Herring, Escape from Freedom, by Erich Fromm, and Society Its Structure and Changes, by R. M. Maclver; the Viking Press, Law in the Modern State, by Leon Duguit. VOLUME

W. W. H.

Contents Introduction I.

Custom and Convention

I

12

2. Conflict and Coercion

26

3- Domination

35

4- Command

45

5- Leadership

69

6. Administration

86

7- Representation

102

Conclusion

119

Notes

126

Bibliography

131

Index

135

Introduction

P

OLITICAL POWER BECOMES PARTICULARLY EVIDENT

in times of rapid

change. As government grows in its budget, personnel, and functions, new achievements and problems evoke new attitudes from the governed. In the older liberal tradition, adequate safeguards were demanded to prevent political power from becoming arbitrary and from corrupting those who possess it. In our day the problem of checks and balances is complicated by new types of power, more varied relations between governor and governed, and wider resources of political control. The goal of this inquiry is to analyze the process of governing in terms of the varied responses which governing agencies secure from their supporters today. It may be easier to understand the varieties of government when they are seen as responses to changing group ends and to varying social situations. Montesquieu gave us a classic example of an analysis of the cultural context of government and of drawing the implications for ethics. In basing the republican form of government on virtue, the monarchical on honor, and the despotic on fear, he stresses forms of group obedience. This study will attempt a fresh analysis of the esprit des lots in terms of contemporary culture. Charles E. Merriam, who, incidentally, also makes this attempt, discusses what he terms "tools of government." According to him, these "tools" are "custom, violence, symbolism and ceremonialism, rational consent and participation, strategy, and leadership." 1 These "tools" are of support, not of initiation and direction, and our study follows Merriam in analyzing the means of control in terms of obedience rather than studying agency activity apart from its basis in group support. Agents of government must rely on some form of participation, and the art of government is the skill in using the "tools," i. e., the forms of participation which are available. In this approach, then, power can be understood best in terms of obedience, although types of obedience serve as tools of control for the men in charge. These tools of control vary between two extremes, that of violence and social conflict and that of completely voluntary, or spontaneous, obedience. At one extreme obedience to government is

2

Government and the Arts of Obedience

secured by physical force where resistance is greatest and power at a minimum. At the other extreme there is no resistance whatsoever, obedience is customary, and power is greatest. The area between these two poles embraces the arts of government, a mixture of compulsion and willing participation. For Friedrich, the two poles between which all actual governmental powers can be ranged are constraint (force) and consent. Power is Janus-faced; it looks toward both peace and war. This dual aspect is a corollary of the fact that power is rooted in purposes, objectives, ends. For such purposes can be spontaneously shared, or they can be mutually supplementary, or they can be conflicting.2 Friedrich calls the power when ends are spontaneously shared relational power or consent, the power when ends conflict corporeal power or constraint, and the power when ends are mutually supplementary mixed power or exchange. His analysis includes fundamental aspects of political life. While we accept the validity of this analysis of power as far as it goes, the poles of control described in this study are slightly different. Opposite to force or coercion is convention, not mere consent. "Consent," implying active agreement, is vague since it includes conscious co-operation as well as customary obedience. In custom, obedience is no longer in any way governed and flows naturally and smoothly without conscious control. The idea of spontaneous obedience is reminiscent of the concept of natural law, and such obedience can indeed be considered "natural," but in two different senses: first, when self-imposed, and next, when reasonable. When reasonable, it is related to ends or purposes, and these ends or purposes do not spring full-blown from social relations. They are developed and refined from customary practice. Thus force has two different opposites, the customary and the reasonable, and these two agree in practice only insofar as custom may be reasonable. Force is arbitrary because it does not attempt to justify itself, and custom, while not arbitrary because it depends on usage, does not need to justify itself because obedience is taken for granted. Both poles of control, therefore, are in different senses self-justifying. Ethically speaking, to the fear of tyranny must be added the fear of unexamined

Introduction

3

custom. The power that is not felt is often as dangerous as the power that is resisted. In times of rapid change the unexamined life is precarious as well as unworthy. In concentrating on obedience as the basis of control the idea of consent must be analyzed in terms not only of usage but also of reasonableness. Compulsion, at the other extreme, is equally relevant to a study of the capacity to govern. Since extreme social conflicts are usually avoided only through government, the mythology of control often holds, as Hobbes did, that man's ungoverned state is a state of war. In the absence of control not only does chaos reign, but urges, drives, wills to power actively contend with each other. Desires for cooperation are then thwarted by the lack of group direction. On this basis all control takes on the character of "corporeal power" (to use Friedrich's term) superior to contending individual powers. Hobbes, Austin, Bentham, and more recently Kelsen, are in this tradition, in which the State is regarded as the power to use force against forces. Hobbes thought of conflict as physical collision, but Bentley in his Process of Government extended the term to include all forms of social interaction. All political action is regarded by Bentley, Merriam, and this school, as the resultant of social "pressures." Generalizing from American pressure groups, Bentley's theory transmutes individual collisions into group pressures and thus glides over the difference between regulation of violent conflicts and other forms of group adjustment. All conflicts are between "interests" and all interests are pressures. Such an analysis reveals the common denominator of conflicting purposes in all political processes, but fails to discriminate between significantly different kinds of conflict and between different ways of resolving them. Theories of social conflict have been complicated by psychology, especially by Freud and psychoanalysis. Erich Fromm in his Escape from Freedom and Lasswell in various books attempt to make the appropriate applications of the psychology of repression and frustration to political theory. Their attack on the idea of the "rational" man, who knows his interests, is only one of many attacks made by the social sciences on mistaken theories of government. The idea of repressed forms of social conflict, forced underground by government but not

4

Government and the Arts of Obedience

really settled, is a contribution to our understanding of the forms of obedience. The study of neuroses and anxieties suggests that human nature abhors insecurity in the same way that nature is said to abhor a vacuum, but in the search for security men do not easily find resolution of conflict in obedience. Furthermore, the theory of psychological warfare, one which Hitler helped the psychologists to impress on our minds, extends political conflict to the intellectual conflict of symbols and ideologies. In Friedrich's terminology power governs when it is "relational" and internal rather than externally imposed on conflicting wills. Sociology has stressed the role of custom in society, but now, with its study of stereotypes and ideologies by Mannheim and others, it emphasizes the way in which customary ideas often indicate suppressed conflict rather than genuine stability. Such considerations imply that an adequate theory of obedience to government must exhibit the tools of government as mixtures of ( i ) methods of adjusting or resolving conflict without resorting to violence, and (2) types of social interests or relationships. At one extreme government itself uses violence as punishment for violation of a social order; its violence is coercion, but without a basis for support new instabilities limit control. Government usually embodies tension; then tendencies not to obey, indicative of repressed conflict, form a pattern of obedience ordering but not removing social conflict. At the other extreme, when there is no antagonism between governing agent and supporter, the convention by which stability is established becomes genuine custom, but then may no longer fulfill its function of satisfying group interests. Such custom must then be modified or it will break down. In Chapter I custom and convention will be discussed as the state toward which social control moves. In Chapter II conflict and coercion will be discussed as problems of control that arise when social order breaks down. The arts of governing can now be distinguished as different aspects of the problem of resolving conflict and making joint participation customary. Domination, command, leadership, administration, and representation have each its own appropriate esprit or cultural context in terms of which it must be judged. Domination secures wide support when men, caught in the conflicts of a disordered social

Introduction

5

situation, must be given a common basis for group action if only by fear of the consequences of disobedience. In contrast, representation secures support when men, having common purposes, can resolve their conflicts by mutually adjusting many interests to the common interest. Between the extremes of domination and representation there are various ways and degrees of participation in government by the governed, all more or less correlated and functioning as "tools" in the art of securing obedience. All civilized governments will embody most of these types of obedience as occasion arises. It is necessary to know the context of control before evaluating any type of control. Any one act of the American government, for example, is effective because some are dominated, some commanded or led, some served or represented. Any constitutional order, such as the United States constitutional system, represents a complex assortment of controls depending on various contexts of obedience. The moral implications of governmental control cannot be divorced from patterns of obedience. Social control is by definition a power or capacity for group action directed by an individual or a group of individuals. The concerted action of individuals streaming out of a house on fire is hardly "controlled" unless some one has taken charge and is issuing orders. On the other hand, if we came upon a group of men together in a room with one, obviously in charge, saying, "George, you are to go to Boston tomorrow to see Mr. Miller," we would be no wiser as to the nature of control, even if we witnessed a series of such directions to the members of the group. From our point of view, the power of the directing agent is to be understood only in terms of the social situation and of the individual responses to his direction. Since in every control, as distinguished from undirected, random group activity, there is a man or group of men initiating and directing group motion, it is easy to feel that control is necessarily that of domination in which the agent is "bending" others to his will. This identification of control with domination is misleading. Catlin, who follows the idealist tradition in basing the science of politics on will, defines will in the following way: " T h e common quality,

6

Government

and the Arts of Obedience

then, of all willing . . . is this persistent activity with a view to translating that which is not, save in the imagination, into that which is." 3 This is probably as satisfactory a definition as any. Hegel defines will in much the same way, as "a special way of thinking" that is "thought translating itself into reality." * The expression of will, then, can best be understood as a translation from the realm of wishes and desires into the realm of action. It then becomes important to determine whose will is being fulfilled, that is, whose ideas arc being translated into activity. Theories of sovereignty rightly try to answer this question, but it is also clear that the agent of direction need not be translating his own ideas into reality. For "that which is not" to become "that which is" is often a startling and awe-inspiring exhibition of power, which if not understood is usually taken as the power of the social agency that presided over the transformation. For one who has little experience with an airplane, the very complex cooperation which has put that plane into flying condition is overlooked in the appreciation of the pilot's skill. For one who had never seen a plane before, the pilot would be a magician who had some mysterious power at his command. In the same way, agencies of social control are often given credit for group actions, credit greater than that warranted by the part the agency plays in translating possibilities into action. Nevertheless, to express will, whether one's own or some objective will, means first of all to exercise choice and to make decisions, and decisions are the conscious determination of goals or purposes. For this reason it is easy to forget that a process of decision is integrally related to a pattern of support. In each of the aspects of obedience which we will discuss there is a different relation between the supporters and the policies of the agency of control. For example, in domination, resistance or rebellion are the only limitations on the power of the controlling agency. Command springs from conditions of group insecurity in which the supporters find solidarity in obedience, and is limited only by the requirements of group solidarity. Leadership is based on trust that the agency of control will carry out group goals which are desired, but which have not been explicitly recognized, and therefore leadership is based on the trust-

Introduction

7

worthy. Administration, as defined in this approach, is based on recognition of the usefulness of the ends of control but not of the specific policies to carry them out. Representation is control based on explicit social policies formed by the group itself in co-operation with the agency of control. In each form of obedience, participation varies not only with the purpose of control, but also with mechanisms of response which exist in those who are to be controlled. The basis of our approach and of the distinctions we have made, therefore, can be summarized as follows: The governmental process is bounded on one hand by coercion in which obedience is unwilling but resistance is overcome, and on the other hand by custom in which obedience is so natural that control is perfunctory. Since conditions of obedience cannot be discriminated solely in terms of constraint and consent, we have distinguished five aspects of control in the area between compulsion and custom. These five aspects, domination, command, leadership, administration, and representation, can be called a "spectrum of authority," for in practical affairs each shades imperceptibly into the next. In such a spectrum, domination is comparable to red, representation to violet. This study will attempt to act as a spectroscope to separate the aspects of obedience for a clearer view o£ the varieties of control in the process of governing. But no linear scale or measure of power is implied by such a "spectrum." A few examples will emphasize the difference between power analyzed in terms of what it does, and power analyzed in terms of how it is obeyed. Few relationships give such clear superiority of power as a father has over a child. To the greater knowledge, experience, and physical strength of the father is added almost every possibility of compulsion that exists. The child can be punished by strap or hickory stick, forbidden meals, denied status in his family, or refused expressions of affection, or otherwise frustrated. But power to compel obedience is not an adequate measure of the means of control actually used. In practice, we know that the most effective way to eliminate domination is to remove the capacity to compel obedience, but even where this capacity exists, as in the father's case, we must know more about the child's response before we can call the parental power "domination." If the child's obedience is based only on the father's

8

Government and the Arts of Obedience

will and nothing else, domination exists. If the father has authority because he symbolizes the family unit, obedience is only a little less arbitrary. Suppose, however, that the child's obedience is based on recognition of the father's interest in the child's welfare. T h e child's recognition of authority need not be based on submission but on an evaluation of the personality of his father and a sense of the purposefulness of paternal orders even though the purposes themselves may not be clear. On the other hand, if the child, ordered to cut some wood, recognizes the function that a manager has in keeping family life going, his obedience may be more suitably related to his father as administrator than as dominator or leader. If his cutting wood is recognized by the child as an entirely reasonable thing both in conception and execution, the father is acting more as representative than as commander. Therefore, even in the family where domination by the parents is more frequent, feasible, and necessary than in most social relationships, the other aspects of control are visible. In fact, the "normal" attitude of child to father might be considered that of trust rather than of fearful submission, although the latter is more readily achieved than among adults. However, in these days when selfgovernment is often a goal in nurseries as well as politics, a father may occasionally act as his child's representative or agent in a process of mutual education rather than in the usual paternal capacities. A compact unit like the family exhibits these aspects of obedience to control so informally as to make them almost indistinguishable, but larger groups exhibit them more distinctly. T h e "executive" powers of the United States Presidency illustrate clearly the variety of responses through which political control takes place. T h e President can be considered the nation's representative. As Pendleton Herring says, "in the actual exercise of his power he must seek the day-to-day assent of the particularism of political forces represented in Congress and in local machines." 5 Yet, as chief executive, the President administers certain accepted social functions, such as defense, as spheres of operation within which he has a freer hand. In still a third aspect, Herring stresses leadership as one of the greatest resources of Presidential power. "Leadership" Herring defines as "not so much a matter of authority stretching downward as of loyalty extending up-

Introduction

9

ward. Even the general of an army, with all his means for control, is strongest when support is freely offered by each soldier. . . . Leadership is the obverse side of 'followship' and fellowship." (p. 136) H a v i n g powers as representative, executive, and leader, in what sense is the President the "commander" ? Though commander of the army, in peace-time he is really only administrator. This implies a distinction between acts of commanding and acts of execution, a distinction which is based not on forms of agency or governmental functioning, but on types of appeal for obedience. " C o m m a n d " in this sense has the superior appeal which Montesquieu attributed to executive action in general. 6 It might be better to call such power to command "dictation," but theories of sovereignty stress "command," and so we have retained the conventional term. T h e appeal of command reminds us of Merriam's description of the theory of modern dictatorship. "Action is better than thought, it is held, and decision is superior to deliberation. Impatience and autocracy are happy companions." 7 Such powers are available to the President in crisis, and then, like Lincoln or other war presidents, he may truly "take command." A s Herring says, "Presidential powers in times of emergency really rest upon the imperative of events." 8 T h e appeal of executive action is not limited to occasions of crisis, but applies to occasions when the executive symbolizes the ability of the group to act as a unit. Although the president may command obedience simply because he symbolizes our national unity, the Supreme Court is sometimes a commander in American government, as is illustrated by James C . Petrillo's statement after trial for open disregard of a law passed by Congress and signed by the President. " T h i s is my country and the Supreme Court makes the final rulings on its laws. . . . T h e Supreme Court has spoken, and I bow to its dictates." 9 ( A s one dictator to another!) That presidential power is not ordinarily domination is a tribute to the operation of our constitutional system, but still more to the complicated administrative agencies and the variety of pressures used. Our view of power as defined by obedience implies first, therefore, that the power to coerce is in itself no measure of the form of coercion used. Neither is monopoly of control enough in itself to define the

io

Government

and the Arts of

Obedience

nature of obedience under these circumstances without an analysis of group participation in policy making. Representation is often supposed to be located in Congress alone, as representative and legislative body combined, and is supposed to have sole control over legislation or policy formation; but in terms of obedience Congress is only one of the agencies of representative government and may or may not be responsible for policies formulated by group interests. Congress is both a mechanism of self-government and an agency whose legislation involves what we have called "administration," "domination," and "leadership." "Representation" in our definition cuts across the constitutional separation of powers, for in terms of the basis of support, president or Supreme Court may "represent" the governed more than do their "representatives" in Congress. In short, our analysis will cut across the formal distinctions of powers in order to clarify operational distinctions. Like Montesquieu and other classical theorists we will also analyze the perversions to which the various forms of obedience are liable. Lord Acton's famous saying, "All power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely," illustrates the "devil" theory of corruption which is of little practical use. Similarly there is little point to Hegel's dictum that "it is an accident, external to the nature of positive right, when force or tyranny becomes an element of it," 1 0 for the social relationships which furnish the basis for control are not external relations to right, not even relations of violence and tyranny. Social control is power because of certain habits of obedience through which it operates. Whenever any government fails to control the social functions for which it is employed, it is worse than useless, for it adds insult to injury. Controls are perverted in two ways. The first way is by corruption where, due to social maladjustments, the conventions bear little relavance to the situations which they are intended to order. T h e basis for order is then undercut by what may be called governmental lag. T h e second form of perversion is usurpation in which the agents of government act for private interests while seemingly functioning according to a convention which binds the group as a whole. 1 1 "Perversion" does not always mean failure to serve the "common interest."

Introduction

IT

A group, through its agcncy of representation, can carry out purposes that are vicious and wicked, and still its government may not be perverted. Similarly, an agency of control may be doing the best thing possible, but its power is "usurped" so long as the agent is taking advantage of the conventions of control in order to get obedience under false pretenses. T h e distinction between corruption and usurpation is often hard to draw. T h e tendency is to read greater conscious direction into social events than is justified. T h e Marxist interpretation of capitalist exploitation is a good example of this tendency. Charges of usurpation may become weapons of psychological warfare, and so it is useful to analyze more carefully the forms of perversion. Such clarification is another advantage in studying power primarily in terms of its basis in obedience.

I Custom and Convention

V

"struggle for power" is complete only when obedience has become a part of the ingrained habits of the group. Any wide-scale expansion of control depends upon reducing most of social activity to customary modes of action. In these days of organized opinion and high-powered advertising, the aim is not to persuade but to make an indelible impression on the habits of men, so that, for example, when they hear of some political issue or step up to a grocery counter, they will automatically respond in favor of a certain political group or a certain brand of coffee. Governments also must seek to create such customary patterns in the minds of their followers if they are to last. In custom, social control has transcended authority because it has been incorporated into the self. As Ross puts it, with his gift of metaphor, "to give up the customary is to alienate portions of one's self, to tear away the sheath that protects our substance." 1 It is this character of being internal to the responding individual that gives control its final seal of approval. The nature of this internality is our problem. In one answer that may be given, the internal is interpreted as the "natural" in the same sense that, to Burke, the French Revolution was a sin against "nature." Internality in this sense belongs mainly to responses which occur spontaneously. Such concepts help to interpret social experience, and so an attempt must be made to disentangle the various meanings that may be combined in them. Professor Maclver contrasts custom and law in a way that helps us to analyze the meaning of "spontaneity." ICTORY IN THE MUCH-ADVERTISED

For custom has a superiority over law in the spontaneity of its appeal to our obedience. Custom incorporates our own desires. It does not come to us from without, demanding acceptance. It does not appear to us, as law without its aid tends to do, as involving a

Custom and Convention

13

control over our desires either for the sake of others or in the name of authority. 2 "Spontaneity" in this contrast between law and custom might mean either the absence of compulsion or the absence of an agency of control. Neither, in terms of our analysis, is adequate for a definition of custom. For one thing conflicts can become customary and therefore internal to the self as psychology has shown. Legal institutions have more extreme forms of coercion at their disposal, but obedience is often habitual and then does not "come from without" (although it may "tend to" as Professor Maclver indicates). T h e value of legal precedent and stare decisis is the assumption of permanence and the encouragement given to assimilate new situations into the legal fabric of past obedience. Law functions most successfully when it transforms compulsion into customary obedience. Since law usually deals with the more serious social conflicts, adjustments may be more difficult than those made without the aid of government, but custom is still the goal. The same law that an individual obeys because he is forced to obey may become one which he accepts completely, as Ross phrased it, as a "portion of his self." Neither does the spontaneity of control by custom occur because obedience is self-caused, no permanent agency of control having a role in the social activity in question. In this view, governmental control is necessarily regimentation, and political control is considered as an interference with the spontaneous currents of social life. Any initiation and direction would tamper with the social mechanisms of "free" action. This is hardly accurate. T h e cheers which are guided by a cheer-leader at a football game may be as "spontaneous" as those unorganized cheers which occur during a fifty-yard run. Even without a previous period of conditioning, if the cheer-leader has a good sense of the critical situations in the game, he can translate his directions into outlets for group emotions as genuinely "spontaneous" as might otherwise occur. In fact, there may be moments where the rooters would not be able to express their group emotion without his help. Custom cannot, therefore, be defined by the absence of control ex-

14

Government and the Arts of Obedience

ccpt as "pure obedience," free of any conflict or constraint. In another sense, "spontaneity" could refer to a sense of timing on the part of the agency of control. Group action would then be initiated only when in harmony with existing customs, and "spontaneity" becomes "propriety." A vital part of the art of government is just this sensitivity to the forms of control appropriate for the various situations which social groups face. Such propriety could apply to the policies of domination with its careful calculations of policies of "divide and rule" or to the boldness of the commander. Therefore, more is usually meant by "spontaneity" than the art of governing. "Spontaneity" as assimilation into the self refers first of all to obedience without a strong tendency to resist, and secondly to fulfillment of social ends that best express the "natures" of the supporters. Unless both aspects are present, we are not likely to be satisfied with calling it "spontaneous." For example, free-flowing social action is just as likely to express itself in a lynching as in a rescue squad to save the lives of trapped miners. Both movements may be obeyed internally and without social compulsion. T h e same is true of the individual who is subject to custom. Erich Fromm in discussing the "escape from freedom" calls one type of internal obedience submission, and reserves the term "spontaneous" for another type of internality. Submission is not the only way of avoiding aloneness and anxiety. T h e other way, the only one which is productive and does not end in an insoluble conflict, is that of spontaneous relationship to man and nature, a relationship that connects the individual with the world without eliminating his individuality. 3 [italics in original] T h e distinction between habitual or internal obedience and spontaneous obedience is expressed even more explicitly when Fromm says: With the political victories of the rising middle class, external authority lost prestige and man's own conscience assumed the place which external authority once had held. . . . Analysis shows that conscience rules with a harshness as great as external authorities, and furthermore that frequently the contents of the orders

Custom

and Convention

1$

issued by man's conscicnce are ultimately not governed by demands of the individual self but by social demands which have assumed the dignity of ethical norms. 4 T h e distinction between an individual's "own demands" and "social demands assuming the dignity of ethical norms" attempts to differentiate between the individual and society in a way that can hardly stand rigid examination. T h e central idea, however, can be stated in other terms. It is not the "social demands" that are set apart from the individual, but one type of "social demands" detrimental to individual expression. Then the distinction is one between two kinds of conscience, that which is appropriate to social and individual domination, and that which is appropriate to representation or fulfillment of a variety of social ends in harmony with each other. T h e latter conscience is "spontaneous" in its operation; the former is internal but not suited to individual potentialities. Our analysis of obedience recognizes different kinds of customary practices and their relation to fulfillment of group ends. Control by custom is self-evident. It is the most powerful form of control, as Louis Wirth emphasizes in his preface to Mannheim's Ideology and Utopia: T h e most important thing, therefore, that we can know about a man is what he takes for granted, and the most elemental and important facts about a society are those that are seldom debated and generally regarded as settled. 5 Custom, as the taken-for-granted, is often identified with control by routine, although custom can be much more complex. Certainly routine is a part of anything that is taken for granted. Routine responses are automatic because the pathways of obedience have been prearranged and follow well-worn grooves. In establishing routine, the important requirement is association of a response with a specific impulse. Control by routine therefore consists in a stimulus which sets an individual or group in motion. Every phase of social life depends on certain routines, for without set routines energy is wasted on activity that has been done before, and concentration on more

16

Government and the Arts of Obedience

fruitful possibilities is impeded. In establishing routines, the desired response must be repeated a sufficient number of times to become consistent and to eliminate conflicting influences. T h e classic example of the power of conditioned responses is found in Pavlov's studies of the salivary response of dogs to a bell as a substitute for food. If conditioning occurs often enough and the reactions are secured regularly, response will become automatic. T h e r e are undoubtedly limits to such automatic responses. It is hard to see, for example, how men could automatically obey orders that deny them enough to eat. W e may well argue that routine cannot be completely arbitrary because it must have some basis in satisfying the organism. If Pavlov's dogs had never secured food because of the bell, the necessary reactions probably would not have occurred often enough to establish routine responses. It can be claimed, therefore, that no pattern of obedience can be so arbitrary that some satisfaction is not provided to those w h o obey. Actually it is as useless to talk about "pure routine," i.e., sheer recurrence, as it is to talk about Hobbes' "state of war" as unrestricted conflict. If it were possible completely to neutralize purposes and ends, we would assume that automatic repetition in itself would be enough to establish recurring patterns of action. If resistance is not successful enough to destroy the pattern of recurrence, even the use of force can become routine and resentment become habitual submission. In this sense, both coercion and routine are arbitrary with regard to group ends, although routine has a foreordained path and coercion has not. Custom as the taken-for-granted also includes very complex forms of response, and therefore simple patterns of recurring actions will be called "routine," reserving the word "convention" for the more complex social forms that are enthroned in habitual obedience. Professor Maclver defines habit as "our will in operation, not as it chooses between alternatives but as it persistently follows an alternative already chosen." 6 W e would like to broaden this definition of habit. T h e alternatives followed out need not be limited to habitual choices between actions alone, but may extend even to criteria by which various alternatives are considered before choices are made. Deliberation itself can become habitual, as Dewey emphasizes:

Custom

and Convention

ij

Repetition is in no sense the essence of habit. . . . T h e essence of habit is an acquired predisposition to ways or modes of response, not to particular acts except as, under special conditions, these express a way of behaving. 7 In these terms it becomes clear that intelligence itself may be a habitual pattern of action. Analogously, there are predispositions to group action just as there are predispositions in individual behavior which enable the group to suspend judgment and to examine various alternatives before acting. Constitutional government embodies such conventions of group deliberation. Governments exercise control not only through routine responses to their edicts or commands, but also through conventions which establish certain modes of obedience; and it is primarily these patterns of social behavior which must be analyzed. For example, it is doubtful if payment of taxes can ever become routine in the same sense that the act of brushing one's teeth is routine, but payment of taxes can become just as conventional as the payment of rent for one's house, although the present political conflicts over the functions of government make it less likely that people in the United States will accept the cost of government on the same conventional basis as they accept the cost of living quarters, even when rents are being kept "conventional" by governmental regulation. Custom and law, therefore, when described as the conventional, imply a wider range of regularized social activity than routine actions. T h e taken-for-granted includes a range of habitual activities which are not passive reactions to set stimuli, but are formative and controlling, like Kant's categories of the understanding. Attitudes, such as our perceptions of the "decent" thing to do, are conventions of this sort. Dewey says that habits "once formed perpetuate themselves, by acting unremittingly upon the native stock of activities." 8 Analogously conventions are group habits that do the same thing for group activity. In terms of our analysis, such concepts as "government of laws and not of m e n " and "law and order" have meaning in terms of the conventions on which they are based. Obedience is given not to some particular individual but to an official. Actions of government arc

18

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then related to a social order in which the supporters participate. Hume's discussion of convention stresses the factors of agreement present, to which we wish to add that agreement is based on common usage. In referring to justice, for example, Hume says that it was established "by a kind of convention or agreement, that is, by a sense of interest, supposed to be common to all, and where every single act is performed in expectation that others are to perform the like." 9 Thus, for Hume conventions are first of all based on an interrelationship of social functions. Such interests held in common are embodied in conventions because they embody courses of action which "lose all advantage" if all do not perform them. Without the participation of all, "there would otherwise be no motive for any one of them to enter into that scheme of conduct." 1 0 He compares conventions to the stones of an arch in which the dislodgment of any one jeopardizes the whole. Certainly any justification of control and any obligation to obey those in authority is established with the recognition first that a certain common interest is involved, and secondly that it is impossible unless everyone is obliged to do certain things. This reciprocal order is a fundamental characteristic of a stable social control. In addition to this reciprocal advantage Hume bases conventions on the need for general rules: W e r e men . . . to take the liberty of acting with regard to the laws of society, as they do in every other affair, they would conduct themselves, on most occasions, by particular judgments, and would take into consideration the characters and circumstances of the persons, as well as the general nature of the question. . . . This would produce an infinite confusion in human society, and . . . the avidity and partiality of men would quickly bring disorder into the world, if not restrained by some general and inflexible principles. 1 1 Conventions, therefore, represent a "stated invariable method of operation," because they set up a social order that is more stable than any natural order could be because we live in a world of particulars not generalities. These two factors, a common interest and "a stated invariable mode of operation" are certainly present in any conven-

Custom and Convention

19

tion, and the purpose of this study can only be conceived as a further elucidation of the nature of the "common interests" which social controls fulfill, and of the way in which "general and inflexible principles" function with regard to that common interest. The difficulty with Hume's analysis comes in determining the nature of the "sense of interest" which is the ground for allegiance to government. T h e tendency is to see "interests" fully developed, sharpened, and explicitly embedded in conventions. In the analysis we have been making, however, some conventions may embody patterns of explicit and matured "interests" while other conventions embody a social order where the "common interest" is formless indeed, allowing the governing officials ample opportunity to act arbitrarily within the broad regularities of the conventions. In the first place, then, there is a big difference between the negative social function of keeping the peace and the more specific actions which government undertakes. Hume says with regard to government that there is a public interest which consists in the preservation of peace, and the avoiding of all changes, which, however they may be easily produced in private affairs, are unavoidably attended with bloodshed and confusion where the public is interested. 12 Now security is a social function of the greatest importance, but any social order that is successful achieves it. A despot may still insure the absence of highwaymen and hold conflict in check. A government which consistently reformulates the common welfare to include opportunities for expressing individual interests, can do the same. T h e preservation of peace, therefore, is a very broad social function that may include a pattern of individual satisfactions or a repressive social order that keeps the subjects in a state of subordination to the agency of control. In the second place, the "sense of interest" which leads to obedience has a similar range of possibilities. Everyone has a desire to avoid confusion and to gain security by establishing certain routines. Moreover, social isolation, as Erich Fromm says so well, is unbearable, and the agency of control often stands for the very existence of a social group in which membership is vital. Human beings

20

Government and the Arts of Obedience

need some permanence and regularity and also some status in a social group, but this need for permanence can be fulfilled in a way that requires the agency to fulfill specific interests and desires or by submission at the expense of those interests and desires. With domination and command peace is secure in ways that do not guarantee the satisfaction of individual interests or desires, whereas with administration and representation security results from recognized advantages. T o put this in another way, conventions of domination and command leave the process of translating ideas into action in the hands of the agency of control while giving the supporters a sense of security in group membership, not necessarily actual security, but rather a feeling of security. The conventions of administration and representation give the supporters a greater role in the group ends to be carried out. Therefore the "common interest" which Hume sees in each convention can be described as a tension between the need for order and the desire to fulfill one's own ends. In the conventions of each kind of control there is a certain way of resolving the tension between the need for permanence and regularity and the specific interests which are to be fulfilled through joint action. Domination gives a man a choice between rebellion and obedience and enables him only to choose between his fears. It is hardly enough to say that such a choice is better than those available to men at war with each other. At the other extreme the conventional framework for representation provides for group deliberation since various interests are brought together for adjustment as alternatives to social conflicts and to individual insecurity. Hume has stated the general nature of conventions very clearly, but we shall attempt to go further and distinguish between different conventions by the type of group participation which furnishes the conventional basis for group decisions. In establishing conventions as social usages, the agency of initiation and direction consists of individuals who function as officials rather than as individuals. These officials exercise authority by invoking the social powers they have been given. Secondly, with regard to equilibration, conventions are storehouses for social experience. Hume compares the formation of conventions to the development

Custom and Convention

21

of language. They preserve innumerable adjustments, small and large, in some pattern of activity. Much of this process of equilibration has been achieved without the awareness of those participating. Suggestions for economy of effort are preserved. Methods that have accomplished some job are used again instead of repeating the period of trial and error and learning that was required originally. Shortcuts and better social techniques, both of direction and obedience, are preserved, as well as numerous concessions made to grumbling supporters. Considering this capacity, men like Burke have bowed in awe, seeing custom and tradition as some kind of divine mill into which all our activity can be poured and out of which it will come freed from all waste, perfectly integrating men's actions. Unfortunately such a faith in traditions and conventions is not justified. Although the passage of time weeds out much that is unprofitable, it also preserves social mistakes that were not adequate, but still managed to function. Customs and conventions result from a process of natural selection, but the wrong things are often selected. As a part of these adjustments, social experience preserved through conventions certainly has adjusted many social conflicts. Unfortunately the mere fact that control has become conventional does not mean that the social conflicts have been satisfactorily harmonized. At the very least, however, some form of compartmentalization is required to eliminate conflicting responses to the same stimuli. Furthermore, the individuals at least are used to control, and that may be the beginning of further clarification and adjustment of group interests. When conflicts are great the first adjustment that is secured is likely to be based on control by domination or command, and a pattern of power may be conventionalized. On the other hand, if a social order is well established, there is no longer a strong tendency to seek security in obedience, and the basis of control may shift toward representation. The symbolisms of language, opinion, and the trappings of government enable the patterns of action which are conventionalized to perpetuate themselves and also to become more complex. Legal rules, for example, need not refer to simple social situations literally transcribed. Pound, in his Social Control through haw, sees in legal development a shift from rules which attach "a definite detailed conse-

22

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quencc to a definite detailed state of facts," through principles and conceptions to standards, which are measures "of conduct prescribed by law f r o m which one departs at his peril of answering for resulting damage or of legal invalidity." 1 3 While rules refer to literal statements stating specific penalties, standards are, for Pound, "in the end to be referred to conformity to the authoritative ideal." 1 4 A s social controls become more complex, they can take the form of general principles only through standards of the sort that Pound speaks of. "Reasonableness," for example, is not a fixed principle which is to be literally followed, but regularizes habits of responsibility for the consequences of one's actions. Such a standard of reasonableness when properly applied refers, as Garlan points out, "not to the end of an inquiry but the beginning. It primarily states a problem and focuses attention." 1 5 With standards like the "reasonable," conventions regularize "frames of mind," attitudes rather than simple transcriptions of certain social acts. T h e standards refer not to fixed actions but to complex procedures which regularize whole fields of social activity. T h e self-evident quality of conventions comes from the smoothrunning responses with which they exert control. If there are no conflicts in our activities that call for consideration, there is little basis for changing the control. It is easy to underestimate the value of custom, especially when viewed in theoretical terms. "Custom," says Hegel, . . . makes invisible that upon which our whole existence turns. If anyone goes safe through the streets at night, it does not occur to him that it . . . is first brought about by the agency of special institutions. 16 T h e importance of the taken-for-granted can only be measured positively by its smooth-running quality, and to disregard its vital place is to encourage an irresponsible iconoclasm. Those phases of social life that function smoothly need no justification; but neither are they in great danger of destruction unless they are giving rise to new conflicts. While there is a tendency for theorists to neglect the customary, it is still more likely that customs and conventions will continue long

Custom and

Convention

23

past the time when social reorganization is needed. Customs are easily corrupted, for inertia and rigidity prevent the necessary adjustments to new situations. Social lag leads to new conflicts which break out with greater virulence because of the failure to make adjustments earlier. Only constant vigilance can correct the maladjustments of custom and outmoded convention. M a n n h e i m gives us a clear picture of this type of corruption which manifests itself in governmental bureaucracy: T h e administrative, legalistic mind has its own peculiar type of rationality. W h e n faced with the play of hitherto unharnessed forces, as, for example, the eruption of collective energies in a revolution, it can conceive of them only as momentary disturbances. It is, therefore, no wonder that in every revolution the bureaucracy tries to find a remedy by means of arbitrary decrees rather than to meet the political situation on its own grounds. 1 7 Well-established government agencies are easily misled by their experience to conclude that all that is needed in situations where old institutions have broken down is "respect for law and order." Basic mistakes in policy are made when established agencies of government treat changing situations as freak occurrences, perpetrated by some individual or group, not realizing that in chaotic times " l a w and order" must be achieved, not enacted. In this type of corruption conventions no longer assure the responsibility of government officials. T h e situations to which official attitudes apply are disintegrating too rapidly. Conventions function to m a k e the individuals who are the agency of control act not as individuals for their private interests but as officials for the c o m m o n ends. Usurpation occurs whenever the standards are manipulated for private ends so that the basis of control is deceptive. Since law has grown up as a check on those in control as well as on those who must obey, judges are expected to avoid tampering with the law to suit their ideas of reform. Good judges, it is felt, will follow the law as "it is," not as they feel it should be. U n fortunately this is no safeguard against corrupted judgments, for judges may unknowingly act by an outmoded picture of society, as

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witness the use of the "due process" clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. While outmoded conventions may give men secret advantages even though they themselves may not be aware of them, there may also be deliberate manipulation of the conventions for private advantage. Corruption due to changing social conditions is usually followed by the other form of perversion—manipulation of those conventions, and then customs and conventions are usurped by vested interests. Dewey summarizes this subtle usurpation in criticizing the split between ideals and practice, and urges a morality that will enable men to use their ideals to counter special interests: There are certain "practical" men who . . . temper respect for law—by which they mean the order of the existing status—on the part of others with most skilful and thoughtful manipulation of it in behalf of their own ends. 1 8 T h e power such manipulation gives is so spectacular and so much greater than coercive power that it is often considered the essence of the art of governing. W e cannot escape the power that customs possess. Their control has gone beyond serious challenge. At the same time human beings also desire variety and change. N o conventions, least of all those of modern national governments, can adequately embody the many aspirations of men. Even the very complex standards of the "reasonable" to which we have referred cannot regularize many desirable group interests. Obedience as it approximates representation requires dissociation of conventions in response to the plurality of social purposes, as well as concentration on specified functions of government. Moreover, even the most successful conventions may lose their efficacy. T h e words "routine" and "convention" have been used in this analysis to offset the tendency to think of preferred customs as "spontaneous" and "natural" when they are actually as much social products as other group habits. Yet, as we have said, these words, in their very associations, designate the matter-of-fact and the uninteresting. Those who wish to change society bewail the strength of

Custom and Convention

25

custom in its influence on human nature, but Hobbes, who wishes to secure peace at all costs, felt that men crave change at the very time when control is working the best. "Man is then most troublesome, when he is most at ease: for then it is that he loves to shew his Wisdome, and controule the Actions of them that governe the Commonwealth." 1 9 This tendency is a very healthy one. An urge for novelty exists as well as a need for order, and it is fortunate that men rebel against the stereotyped as well as against chaos and insecurity. Conventions not only become stereotyped; they die. There is nothing harder to revive than a "dead" law. Such lifeless laws become meaningless and are of little use except as epithets or rallying points for social conflict. W h e n standards reach the point where they no longer are part of a social order, exhortation and contumely will only postpone the needed readjustment. Nevertheless, the answer to the failures of control by conventions is not to deplore custom, but to make it rational. There is no escape from the need for stability and from social necessities which conventions are set up to satisfy, but social maladjustments need to be eliminated. As patterns of mutual adjustment, conventions vary from the taboos that perpetuate submission, to interests formulated by the group. Later chapters will consider the form that conventions take in different aspects of obedience.

2 Conflict and Coercion

W

is CONTROL in which obedience has become "natural," coercion is the control proper to a state of war. Our conceptions of coercion are often inverted because we tend to overlook the power which we ourselves possess or take for granted, although it is usually much stronger than the power we dislike. Political control has often been defined as the power to coerce, partly because coercion is the most conspicuous example of control. T h e nature of coercion is expressed by such phrases as "jungle law," "brute force," "naked power," of which the phrase "naked power" is the most interesting and baffling.1 T h e implication seems to be that we need only to put the right clothes on power to transform it into authority. On this theory, power is evil anyway, and the least that society can do is to hide its shame under respectable social forms. Nevertheless the term expresses the usual associations "coercion" brings to mind; for coercion implies violence and violence implies control stripped of any justification for the agency of control and devoid of any obligation for the one forced to obey. It is better, however, to substitute the term "naked force" for "naked power," for "power" has too many meanings to distinguish coercion adequately from other forms of control. "Coercion" implies the "use of force," and it is "naked" because coercion is predominant in the exercise of control rather than an occasional or temporary part of a social control that, in the main, rules by voluntary obedience. T h e physicist's notions of matter and force, far from being out of place, are much more relevant to our analysis than the refinements of thinkers whose ideas of coercion are expressed in terms of a Conscious Self acting on unconscious selves.2 "Force" implies impact and imposed motion. These associations give us the specific characteristics of "coercion." In impact and imposed motion there is first a force that furnishes the hitting power. Secondly, there is the shock of HILE CUSTOM

Conflict and Coercion

27

contact. Thirdly, there is inertia or resistance overcome in some object. In its most elemental form the relationship of coercer and coerced is that of a collision in which the former possesses the superior force. If there is no collision or if there is one between equal forces, then there is either an explosion or a stalemate but no control, because there is no common motion in which somebody gives directions. T h e difference between collision and coercion comes only from the nature of the objects that are overridden. W e do not coerce a car down the street, nor pity the poor ball as it is slammed around the tennis court. Only a living being with the ability to set itself in motion and direct its own activities can be coerced. A force imposed through impact is a type of control which treats an individual as a pawn and reduces social relations to the physical. Fear and resentment are natural reactions in a human being who is treated like an object. T h e religious dualism between soul and body may be considered a dramatization of the division of the self into that which moves by impact and that which resents being pushed around. By carrying these physical analogies into the realm of social contacts, we are less likely to lose sight of basic human reaction against coercion as a type of social control. T h e distrust of coercion is based upon the elementary fact that heat is generated as a reaction to a change of direction caused by overriding impact. Control by force involves imposition as well as impact. By imposition we mean that the forcer and the forced are alike human beings. Any being is used to adjusting to many forces in his environment because he knows that forces like the winds and the rain override his wishes. H e will not usually batter his head against a rock, but when he is aware of another being like himself who bars his way, he is more likely to fight than adjust. Resentment, then, at being treated as an object leads more quickly to renewed conflict when the coerced realizes that another being has secured the advantage. In defining coercion as a physical clash, we have emphasized its inescapable implication of violence, but violent conflict need not also imply a conflict of ends in which the coerced submits to purposes which he opposes. Coercion not only implies violence but also violent imposition of will. In a race riot or a revolution violence may have

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little purpose, indicating only chaos and the absence of social order. Therefore, violence can either be a sign of the absence of group action or it can be directed toward some purpose and therefore act as an instrument of control. The way that conflict, particularly violent conflict, acts as a barometer of social failure rather than as an attempt to achieve a group end has been expressed in terms of "free-floating aggression." We have analyzed coercion as the use of force, and further described it as impact and imposition varying from aspects of violent conflict to enforced obedience for the purposes of the victor. Now we wish to discuss coercion as compulsion, extending the field of control to that of potential force and to other social sanctions. Potential force includes foreseen impact and foreseen imposition in which adjustments take place in advance of collision. Preparation for battle, escape, or submission are still potential impacts appropriate to social conflicts rather than to any stable control. In such cases, adjustments are made and truces established. Balances of force arise, or superiorities manifest themselves. While the recognition of potential impact may give those with superior force only occasional advantages, the threat of force is far more important than impact or imposition. In social relationships any direct use of force, such as execution or imprisonment, is a very limited form of control. A dead man or a prisoner does not contribute much to common action. Social control, as distinguished from overriding impact, comes from continued direction of the motion of others, and the application of force is revenge for failure to control rather than control itself. The distinction between force and the threat of force has important implications for political theory. Hobbes says that men are free so long as they are threatened only and not forced. "Feare, and Liberty are consistent; . . . so a man sometimes pays his debt, only for feare of Imprisonment, which because no body hindred him from detaining, was the action of a man at liberty!'3 This distinction between force and the threat of force is well established in law, as Holmes makes very clear in his decision on the case of the Eliza Lines: The distinction is well settled in the parallel instance of duress by threats, as distinguished from overmastering physical force applied

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29

to a man's body and imparting to it the motion sought to be attributed to him. In the former case there is a choice and therefore an act, no less when the motive commonly is recognized as very strong or even generally overpowering, than when it is one which would affect the particular person only, and not the public at large. It has been held on this ground that duress created by fear of immediate death did not excuse a trespass. . . . The distinction is as old as the Roman law, Tamen coactus volui* As we have said, control can best be defined "as an expression of will," and at this point one of the ambiguities in the term "will" and in the idea of voluntary obedience is obvious. In terms of the distinction made by Hobbes and referred to in Holmes' decision, an act is voluntary so long as there is a choice available to the person affected. The threat of force is considered as the injection of another motive into the field of an individual's choice. Hobbes says that "Will . . . is the last appetite in Deliberating," and since aversion and fear are appetites, actions that follow from them are voluntary.5 Bentham also makes a distinction between what Holmes calls the "overmastering" and the "overpowering," by dividing "power" into that of contrectation and the power of imperation.6 As such, "overmastering" force is very limited in its power.7 Since the threat of force requires a choice between acquiescence and the application of superior force, overriding impact becomes motion imposed by fear. While force and the threat of force are not sharply distinguishable,8 acts of bodily contact can be determined with relative ease, whereas the threat of force embraces a considerably larger and more indeterminate area of social activity. The point of impact is specific since it is possible to determine when fist meets nose, or gun goes off. The threat of physical force, providing it is pointing a gun or starting to swing a fist is determinate. Once, however, the distinction is accepted between power over the will of the forced, over his self-moving faculties rather than over his passive faculties alone, an area is reached that is open to many interpretations. Coercion, as used in this chapter, cannot be limited to direct physical force only, but equally it does not extend to all forms of compulsion. We must try to distinguish the threat of force from social pressure in general.

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and the Arts of

Obedience

Aristotle gives us a very satisfactory definition of compulsion in calling those acts compulsory " w h e n the cause is in the external circumstances and the agent contributes nothing." 9 In contrast to action by compulsion, " T h e voluntary would seem to be that of which the moving principle is in the agent himself, he being aware of the particular circumstances of the action." 1 0 Compulsion in Aristotle's sense makes coercion mean not the mere use of physical force, but the causing of motion by a source outside the individual moved. If coercion is identified with compulsion, it means not physical force but common motion in which the compelled are passive with respect to the " m o v i n g principle." T h e agency of control would compel motion because it is the cause of motion. Interpreted in these terms, there are many degrees of compulsion. Any member of a social group would be subjected to a whole series of compulsions, just because he is a social being and because he responds to various agencies of control. Any social control that isn't "overmastering physical force" is partly voluntary because the member contributes motion that is not directly forced, and partly compulsory because the initiation and direction lie with the external agency of control. Aristotle is speaking of final as well as efficient causes, and, with respect to final causes, the part which the members play in the formulation of the purposes of control is greater the nearer the form of control approaches representation and diverges from control by domination. Representation, however, is not an agency of control that merely responds passively to every influence of its supporters, because such a situation is impossible; the agency of control is bound by representation to carry out the policies and desires of the supporters, and so they are, relatively speaking, the major cause of group motion. But we are discussing coercion and its relation to compulsion. Robert L . Hale extends compulsion, quite properly, in terms of Aristotle's definition, even to rewards. 1 1 Compulsion so interpreted refers to any kind of social pressure "external" to the individual but influencing his will. Since a theory of democratic society is concerned with setting limits on coercion, it is necessary to get an idea of coercion broader than overriding physical impact alone, but not one that

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includes all forms of social pressure. Hale shows that limitations placed by the Supreme Court on the power to coerce: . . . can be sustained by recognizing degrees in the compulsion exerted, and by holding that the "involuntary servitude" banned by the [Thirteenth] Amendment is to be interpreted as applicable only to high degrees of compulsion . . . and not to all forms of compulsion, even of high degree. Labor is often performed for others under fear of starvation. T h e Court has never recognized this as a violation of the Thirteenth Amendment. 1 2 For this reason the idea of the State as the monopoly of force may have significance in modern society, if we mean by force "high degrees of compulsion," for compulsion in its general sense applies much more widely, and includes many agencies of control that have nothing to do with government. In this sense, much of our economic life exhibits compulsions of great importance, and Hale draws the inevitable conclusion: Is there any significant distinction between the "political" compulsion involved in the state's destruction of one's opportunity to obtain employment, sales or labor, and the "economic" compulsion involved in the destruction of the same opportunity by a large employer, a large customer or a combination of workers ? In neither case does the force reach the loser of the opportunity in the form of violence, imprisonment or execution on his property. 1 3 For purposes of clarity, in our analysis "coercion" is that compulsion that uses or threatens force in the form of violence, imprisonment or execution on property, i. e., those aspects of social life that exhibit overriding impact or the threat of such impacts. It does not include the whole range of pressures which are compulsory in other ways. Coercion as impact or the threat of impact is limited to these "high degrees of compulsion"; but any control in which one m a n influences another's will through a substantial compulsion he exerts is an "imposition" if temporary, and "domination" if it has a permanent basis. Therefore compulsion comprises not only coercion, involving threats of physical force, but also social pressures, in which induce-

Government and the Arts of Obedience ments encouragc obedicnce. In the same way that conflict between forces varies from outbreaks of violence to the imposed will of the coercer, so conflict between individuals and groups who are bringing pressure to attain their ends varies from intimidation to bargaining. In bargaining the conflict of wills relates to specific objectives with each of the parties calculating the advantages and disadvantages of exchange or cooperation. In bargaining the inducement offered can be rejected without serious consequences, and when bargaining is possible, the social pressure can only be called "compulsion" in the sense that some external agency is concerned in the choice. Such "compulsion" can extend to the necessity of choosing between two ends, and everyday language often refers to "compelling reasons" when a choice is necessary between desired ends. For example, a father may feel "compelled" to discipline an erring child. Bargaining indicates pressures present in any adjustment of group ends, and every convention exerts pressure and embodies adjustment of conflicting ends. Intimidation, on the other hand, as another form of social pressure refers to choices made between disparate possibilities in which the "cards are stacked" against the chooser. T h e intimidation increases in proportion to the consequences of rejecting the inducement. An overriding end like food cannot be denied an individual as penalty for disobedience without battle or intimidation. T h e strike, for example, as a social pressure can be either that of bargaining or of intimidation according to the circumstances. As the main weapon of compulsion which a union possesses, it may permit bargaining to take place between employer and union more equally than between employer and each worker individually. However, circumstances may turn bargaining into intimidation. If the employer will lose an important contract through a strike, or if the workers have no savings, or union funds, for an extended walkout, there will be more intimidation and less bargaining. Furthermore, the pressure on the public may be little if shoe factories are closed, but intimidating if railroads are not running. A fine or a price, as Hale indicates, may act as a deterrent for a rich man but intimidate a poor man. Conventions of private property would give an owner of an oasis in the desert the power of intimidation, but in other cir-

Conflict and Coercion

33

cumstances furnish advantages more closely related to bargaining. In addition to circumstances, three factors affect the power of intimidation. The first factor is that of monopoly. Monopoly may refer in part to the relative importance of the social function offered as inducement for obedience since vital needs in the possession of an individual or group give greater power. Circumstances, of course, may give a superior position and create monopoly. A second form of pressure that is especially likely to intimidate is the power to place the existence of a group or organization in jeopardy. Barnard in the Functions of the Executive mentions as a central characteristic of authority, the ability to give notice that the organization is at stake, and that it will apply all its powers to assure survival. T o give a choice between obedience and survival is a powerful weapon of control, even if coercion is not available for enforcement. A prime minister whose services are badly needed may threaten to resign if disobeyed. The power of dissolving the British parliament is another example of pressure which takes on the form of intimidation by putting the position of each member of parliament in jeopardy. Strikes are also examples of this power of dissolution. Exclusion or exile arc similar sanctions, forcing a choice between obedience and enjoyment of membership in the organization. A third factor in intimidation depends on knowledge and past experience. One who is told to load high explosives on a truck may do it without much compulsion if he does not realize the danger, but one who can imagine the consequences might do it only under more drastic compulsion. On the other hand, knowledge increases the acceptance of novel suggestions, while one who clings to routine may act in a novel way only through compulsion. In addition to such factors in social pressure as monopoly of function, ability to put an organization in jeopardy in case of disobedience, special circumstances, knowledge of consequences, and flexibility in adjusting to novel situations, opinions, as well as actions exert social pressure. Discussion is a form of verbal bargaining, and verbal pressure can become intimidating. Words, symbols, ideologies —all can become weapons of social conflict. T . V. Smith tells us that "one can take a lot . . . from people whom he understands and who

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cannot hit with anything heavier than an epithet."

11

It may be an

improvement, to be free of heavier things than epithets, but if psychological conflict is not resolved, either totalitarian war or abject submission may ensue. M a n n h e i m doubts if such conflict is an improvem e n t over violent conflict. Political conflict, since it is from the very beginning a rationalized f o r m of the struggle for social predominance, attacks the social status of the opponent, his public prestige, and his self confidence. It is difficult to decide in this case whether the sublimation or substitution of discussion for the older weapons of conflict . . . really constituted a fundamental improvement in h u m a n life. Physical repression, is, it is true, harder to bear externally, but the will to psychic annihilation, which took its place in many instances, is perhaps even more unbearable. 1 5 Such psychic pressures easily break out in violence and may lead to physical conflict that is aimed not at specific objectives, but at destroying the enemy. Pre-Nazi Germany is a good example of dangers in verbal warfare. Participation in social groups involves the atmosphere of opinion as well as social activity, and individual members can be isolated from the group in thought as well as in action. Monopoly of opinion, verbal ostracism, and withholding expressions of approval are pressures that are closer to intimidation than to social bargaining. T h i s is illustrated in the control of parent over child. T h e coercion in a whipping may be much less "compelling" than that which is exercised when signs of parental affection become rewards for obedience. F o r these reasons the constitutional limitations on government need to deal with intimidation as well as coercion. Social pressures are always present in society, but the ethics of practical politics is largely concerned with transforming intimidation into bargaining. B a r g a i n i n g can be secured partly through institutional pluralism in which no one institution monopolizes social functions. It can also c o m e f r o m conflicts which have been narrowed down to issues between specific group ends, and by establishing conventions that limit important forms of compulsion, even those that c o m e f r o m putting an organization in jeopardy.

3 Domination HE L I M I T S

OF VOLUNTARY

OBEDIENCE, t h e r e f o r e ,

are

obedience

obtained by direct physical force on the one hand, and obedience which is completely taken-for-granted on the other. Volition in the sense of choice is irrelevant to either. Ordinarily, however, both compulsion and custom are involved in obedience to government. Coercion is usually punishment for violating an established convention, and conventions usually require a degree of compulsion to insure continued obedience. W e now come to the forms of control which are neither completely compulsory nor purely customary. D o m i n a t i o n , for example, implies a systematic exercise of an agent's superior will in which imposition and intimidation have become established in a social order, and is the most likely result of violent conflict. T h r e a t s of force become stabilized, and the agency of control rules through punishment, or what B e n t h a m aptly called " a n artificial quence."

1

conse-

T h e n force has not secured submission only temporarily,

but has been erected into a social system. D o m i n a t i o n is " w i l l " personified, for initiation and direction of the ends of control are completely in the hands of the dominator; the subject is will-less. T h e fact that obedience has been secured by threats primarily or by habitual submission implies that the dominated recognize the ruler's will as the main justification for obeying him. Since there is no will except the will of the agency of control, his power is the capacity to impose motion, and there's an end to the matter. T h e classic symbol of domination is Alexander's cutting the Gordian knot with a stroke of his sword, exemplifying power that disregards any rules of action. Yet any extensive social power at the disposal of an agent of domination is based on certain social conditions, and on some kind of group interaction. Control through domination is either limited by physical strength, wealth, and circumstances or its power increases because it

j6

Government and the Arts of Obedience

is the alternative to a state of war in which individual or group destruction is avoided only by finding a Protector worth fearing. As Hobbes saw clearly, in that case the actual decisions of the agency of domination become incidental to the fact of its existence. T h e agency of domination must be able to use superior force and have greater facilities of social compulsion than those tempted to resist. But usually conditions serve to make the threat of compulsion itself successful rather than requiring energy-consuming enforcement. T h e actual force at the disposal of any man or group of men is limited, especially over a period of time. As Llewellyn indicates, " A despot, with the worst will in the world, can still be despotic and arbitrary only while he can stay awake." 2 W i t h a permanent basis for control the dominator must conform to the social relationships that give him power. In the first place, the response to his power is greater when the victor has done what those who must obey would do if they could. Victory itself attracts submission. Furthermore, the implied threats behind the demands made on the subjects are magnified by a chaotic situation. Fears of the ruler increase, and threats of force become more effective in proportion to the extent of social conflict. Just as a sound in a cemetery at night may inspire terror in a passer-by when it would make no impression in daylight, so the implied threat of the dominator may seem a small thing in a stable society and may be tremendously effective in a period of social breakdown. Since fear feeds on ignorance and insecurity, control through domination has greater possibilities when societies are most divided. Any extensive control through domination depends also on an equilibrium of forces, a balance of power. T h e great conquerors in military history have always proceeded by a policy of "divide and conquer." This policy consists of playing off one group against another and utilizing that conflict to control both groups. This maintenance of a balance of power usually requires considerable energy and calculation on the part of the dominator, and it limits the operations which he can carry out. If his rule overreaches itself, the conflicting groups on which he depends will unite, at least long enough to destroy him; or a truce will permit one strong part of his group to destroy his power. T o the possibilities of rebellion, with its incon-

Domination

57

veniences in time, labor, and risk, therefore, must be added other social limitations in maintaining this balance, such as inertia and sabotage. Power politics in the international field illustrate factors that often exist in less spectacular ways in smaller groups. Even the child has tantrums and other ways of limiting parental domination in which the energies of enforcement are balanced against demands made, and rebellion is balanced against submission. Since the basis for obedience is calculation of the risk of disobedience, the symbols proper to this form of control are those which increase the efficacy of punishment. Threats of force or other compulsions depend for their effectiveness ( i ) on the nature of the force or pressure threatened, (2) on the certainty it will be applied in case of disobedience, (3) on its dramatic value. When the application of force is not a certainty, it must be more drastic to exert control. A policeman swinging a club in front of a building may tell all who come near to "move along." His threats are small but much more effective than the ten-year prison sentence for the burglary of those same premises when no guard is present. Difficulties in manpower and detection make certainty of punishment very difficult in practice, and so enforcement usually functions on a basis of calculated risk. In order to make the risk too great, punishments usually need to be drastic and out of all proportion to the social harm involved in violation. In addition to certainty of punishment and the character of the reprisal for disobedience, punishment should have publicity value. Threats when adequately dramatized are much more effective, for punishment must be envisaged ahead of time to be effective. In domination, then, considerable effort must be taken to publicize punishments and to make the people aware of the consequences of disobedience. The symbols of domination, then, serve to publicize the risks of disobedience and to become a center for the variety of fears which reinforce submission. All these factors, the impressive power of the agency, a balance of other powers, and the extravagance of punishment, go to make up a systematic imposition of will. The social conventions on which domination depends, however, do more than give the agency of control superior power of action. They also regularize conflict, for any large-

38

Government and the Arts of Obedience

scale battle between the supporters jeopardizes the balance of power. By reducing or eliminating armed conflicts, the agency of domination, as Hobbes indicated, acts as an arbiter; and his control, while not justified in theory, is justified in practice by the avoidance of wholesale conflicts. T h e conventions which grow up around the dominating agency guarantee that warfare will be kept within bounds. Ross gives an example of conventions of this sort which may grow up apart from a controlling agency; but certainly the same motives contribute to the support of agencies of domination : Often in early warfare, before there are any restrictive rules, there are, nevertheless, self-imposed restraints. If you rob your foe, you rob him openly and not by stealth. . . . If you attack him, you attack him armed in front, and by day. 3 Such conventions, based on ideas of a "fair fight," lessen the insecurity of night and day vigilance and make social existence possible, and can grow up without any co-ordination or direction from an agency of control. Such conventions may also grow up around agencies of domination, for the dominator, successful on a small scale, augments his powers as the arbiter in social conflict. T h e threats of a conqueror, then, can become conventionalized in the same way as rules of fighting limit coercive conflicts, and help make group living endurable. It is as true of domination as of other forms of control that punishment is an admission of failure, although a failure that is needed to sustain control. Punishment does serve as an example to others, but the more successful it becomes the less it needs to resort to outright coercion. T h e dissipation of energy in employing force can be overcome and power expanded in three ways. In the first place, the agency of control can increase its domination by spreading the benefits of control throughout a ruling class. Historically speaking, the agency of control is always based on a ruling class, which reinforces the individuals directly in charge. Organization may increase the army available for suppression of rebellion, and the police needed to enforce its threats. Such a police machine can further entrench itself by taking into the ruling class all those with enough courage or enough ability to challenge the control of the ruling class. It may also

Domination

39

move against any organized rebellion by eliminating the rebels w h o attempt to rally forces for an attack on the dominating group. Possession of superior resources in property and ideas as well as in arms strengthens the ruling group. T h u s power through domination may be expanded at the expense of the society as a whole by organizing groups to apply coercion, by concessions to potential rebels, by vigilant suppression, and by control of group resources. Secondly, power may be increased by further centralizing all coercive forces in the agency of control. T h r o u g h such a centralization the supporters require less energy to fight each other, and for this safety exchange greater recognition of the power of the dominating agency. Ever since Hobbes, the theory of the state as the monopoly of force has had great appeal, and proved in the rising national states to be a real step toward representative government. T h e balance of power is refined in this way to a point where the participating parties are freed to a great extent from the requirements of self-protection. In the third place, punishments may be dramatized. However regrettable, fear is part of our social selves. T h e success of threats is not easily measurable. T h e power of domination grows in proportion to the amount of fear upon which the ruler can draw. Bentham considered pleasure and pain as real entities which can be quantitatively calculated, but this view does not do justice to the ways social fears can grow. Vague fears are much more controlling than specifically defined fears, and often more numerous. W e have only to compare our feelings before sitting in a dentist's chair to the actual pain of the drill, to realize that pain suffered is bad enough, but u n k n o w n yet imminent pain magnifies fear until it becomes terror. T h r o u g h dramatizing punishments, an aura of imagined pain may be built around the painful experiences which can actually be inflicted. This imagined pain is great partly because its extent is not foreseen, but even more because we cannot calculate our capacity to endure it. While the agency of domination may deliberately build up this fear of its power, the centralization of power has its salutary effects as well. Fears and suspicions the members of a group hold of their fellow members and of external enemies are projected into the power of the ruler, and such externalization may ease the burden

40

Government and the Arts of Obedience

of frustration and fear actually present in a society. Vague as the fear of the sovereign may be, it is more specific and less terrible than the fear of the other members of the society in the absence of control. Lasswell * illustrates this function of centralizing group fears: Indeed one of the principal functions of symbols of remote objects, like nations and classes, is to serve as targets for the relief of many of the tensions which might discharge disastrously in face-to-face relations. T h e hatred of the physical father may be displaced upon the symbol of the monarch.* In this way the power of the sovereign is protected from rebellion by one kind of taboo, reflecting a balance of group antagonisms. T h e expansion of power, then, can take place through ceremonies which harness the fear of the unknown and of impending social violence to obedience to the ruler. T h e punishment of criminals, the march to the gallows and the spectacle of the hanging become ceremonials of fear. Machiavelli's advice to princes is the classic on this theme. T h e present-day murder trial is a good example of this phenomenon. Governmental control may be expanded through taboos against certain types of action. In these taboos realization of the nature of the crimes creates a sense of sin in the members of the group, and this sense of sin inclines men to submit to control. An execution or a sentence to long imprisonment removes one subject from obedient action, but it exorcises the temptation to disobedience of all the others subject to the taboos established by the social conventions of domination. A murderer who goes to the electric chair helps to ease our murderous tendencies by group catharsis and at the same time reimposes on our minds the penalty for disobedience. Coercion, which is the actual impact or immediate threat of impact, and nothing else, can hardly be perverted because there is no justification for the control of the agency and no obligation present. Domination inasmuch as it is purely an agency of organized compulsion also has no corruptible ground for obedience. As we have tried to indicate, however, domination is justified in the practical situations which • By permission from World Politict and Personal Copyrighted, 1935. Published by Whittlesey House.

Insecurity

by Harold Lasswell.

Domination

41

magnify its power because it eliminates coercive conflicts. If our fears of the dominating agency were specific and real entities as Bentham regarded pain and pleasure, then its power could not be perverted with respect to its mode of functioning, but only with respect to its social purpose, which would be morally wrong perhaps, but not perversion in our sense. Power is perverted when the support given is based on a social function that is not in fact being performed. Therefore, the perversion to which domination is subject has no reference to the actual decisions made by the agency of control, but rather to its failure to serve as an alternative to social tension and conflict. In the first place, then, the power in domination loses all advantage when the dangers of coercion from the agency of control are greater than any danger of coercive conflict present in the social situation. F o r example, domination by some government in India may not be desirable when it controls through maintaining a balance of power between Moslem and H i n d u . It is, nevertheless, not perverted, unless the conflicts between H i n d u and Moslem are being aggravated and the agency is waging a civil w a r upon the various sections of its dominion greater than that which would break out if there were no such agency. Obedience, then, is posited on a non-existent social order, and is given in ignorance of undeclared civil war. While domination is "corrupted" when its control endangers rather than insures group peace, it is "usurped" when the group fears are deliberately magnified and distorted by a tyrant in order to increase his own power. Such an abuse of the role of arbiter robs the supporters of the only benefits of submission. Moreover, the use of torture can be considered a perversion because conflict does not usually entail any such degree of pain, whether in defeat or victory. Secret police who play up the fears of men to the point where every minute of social intercourse is fraught with terror, also exhibit a perversion of domination. T o the tyranny of deliberately provoked dissension is usually added another form, insatiability. W h e n obedience itself is taken as a sign by the ruler that more can be demanded, support becomes appeasement. In such cases submission cannot achieve stability but leads only to demands for greater submission.

42

Government and the Arts of Obedience

Ethically speaking, there is a place for domination in social life as long as wars or rumors of wars exist and physical violence is possible. T h e moral problem is to make governmental power of this sort move "representative" by monopolizing the power to coerce, thus taking it away from groups and individuals and centralizing force in the government at a net gain for the social group. These benefits are nullified, however, unless the acts of the dominating agency are restricted and subordinated to other types of governmental control. This process of limitation comes partly through convention or the "rule of law," and partly through a balance between the institution of government and other institutions, making government itself dependent, at least in part, on other agencies of control. Such limitations on coercive controls are achieved only through political struggle, as eighteenth-century liberals knew full well. This limitation on government is achieved when the conventions on which government rests include taboos which limit governmental power, to match those the government employs to prevent crime and to organize the members against outside enemies. "Coercion" becomes a taboo in such conventions because it allows governmental power to be "coercive" only when it overcomes a taboo against such coercion. Domination, as we have tried to show, has a broader basis than its occasional resorts to coercion to enforce the will of the controlling agency. While unjustified compulsion exists only where consciousness of its arbitrariness exists, routine domination can take on the aspect of "one's own law" (in Hegel's phrase). For this reason, the Idealist gap between the area of state control and the area of moral will is illusory. Idealist thought minimized the collisions involved in coercion, and stressed the externality of the relations between forcer and forced. Kant may say: Another may indeed force me to do something which is not my end (but only means to the end of another), but he cannot force me to make it my own end, and yet I can have no end except of my own making/' Considering the present alone, this view of coercion is correct; but the sands of rebellion can run out and resentment become habitual submission. Liberals must utilize for reform the period before domina-

Domination

43

tion becomes routine, or a like opportunity may not return. T h e ruler, through regular application, organized police methods, and dramatized fear, can establish his power beyond debate or question. T o one like Mill, alive to the repressive features of coercive forces, 6 the gap to which K a n t and H e g e l point is illusory unless translated into protection from governmental domination. Although domination with its close relation to coercion is ethically the least desirable form of social control, it is not enough merely to inveigh against it. Severe conflicts exist and must be reconciled. If left unresolved, domination will be the inevitable result. T h e moral problem of authority is to create and to discover relationships between individuals that will m a k e other forms of social control effective. T h e minimization of collisions in the Hegelian dialectic overlooks this fundamental principle. According to it, opposites might c o m e into the worst possible conflict, but the magic reconciliation will take place necessarily. Instead of a gap between and in individuals, as with K a n t , it is a gap between individuals and groups in the process of being transcended. Every authority transcends social conflict; but this need not happen, and may not happen in the best possible way when it does. W e must, therefore, consider control by domination in terms of its function of relieving social conflicts. It has often been felt that group interests, economic or otherwise, are very vague, while the coercive factors in a society are specific and definite. T h i s view has little to justify it. T h e r e is nothing more variable and uncertain than human fears, and certainly little that is predictable about the balance of coercive forces in any society. Someone is always likely to take a chance that he can win by a little extra foresight, or by treachery, or by some new technique of warfare. Victorian E n g l a n d might seem to prove that the British balance of power doctrine was highly effective; but a more likely theory is that in an expanding world the conflicts between nations were marginal rather than basic, thus limiting the amount of effort needed for warfare. It is difficult to measure force until it is put to the test, and many have put it to the test with disastrous results for all concerned. By and large, then, it is easy to resort to fighting, but not so easy to determine the coercive factors that will produce victory. D o m i n a t i o n , then, may be the prelude to good, as it quiets social

44

Government and the Arts of Obedience

fears and allows saner methods of group co-operation; but it is no culmination for the art of governing ethically. Those who limit government to its police functions naturally wish to place checks on its operation, and to divide its power between different agencies which will balance each other, as in the United States government. However, the other aspects of obedience are usually present even in a government that is relatively despotic. Domination needs coercion to make its threats exemplary, and a criterion of judgment for any agency of control is the degree to which it must enforce obedience. A t best coercion is an occasional evil, and at worst it is the residue when no other basis for obedience is available. Since in many controls such as that exercised over the growing child, domination is often transformed into representation, an important ethical criterion for government by domination is the speed with which it transforms the basis of its power through education and persuasion into other forms of obedience. Futhermore, in any large social group, control of this sort is likely to waste energy, for the ruler is too much preoccupied with maintaining control to discover ways of greater group participation by which resistance can be eliminated.

4 Command that stress sovereign power make no distinction between control by domination and control by command, but such a differentiation will give a clearer picture of the kinds of allegiance government secures. Even dictatorships, for example, can hardly be understood simply as agencies of domination. Command seems to be the culmination of power. T h e most spectacular example of command is described in the first chapter of Genesis, " G o d said, Let there be light; and there was light." T h e appeal of the creation story lies in the need for bringing order out of chaos and light out of darkness, and that miracle is often accomplished. T h e theological quarrels over whether the world was created out of chaos or out of nothing illustrate certain practical aspects of commandment. Only a god could command chaos or bring order out of nothing by fiat. Absolute command not only overrides all opposition, but presupposes a ready obedience. A world is created free of resistance to command, and obedience is secured without threat of coercion, but by word of mouth. And yet the power to command can never match its claims to power. Our problem, then, is to analyze the power of command to determine the elements in its control distinguishing it from domination. Hobbes, however, conceived of government as a final power which protects those who obey from the power of others, and so he gives a perfect description of the function of domination in removing society from a state of war. T h e sovereign must possess supreme coercive power to assure obedience, or no social bonds can replace the struggle for power. "Covenants, without the Sword, are but Words, and of no strength to secure a man at all." 1 Law, for Hobbes, is the command of the sovereign, and command is a "declaration, or manifestation of the will of him that commandeth." 2 Hobbes does not distinguish command from control by domination, which we have defined HEORIES OF GOVERNMENT

/f.6

Government

and the Arts of

Obedience

as a systematic imposition of will based on fear of the ruler. In the same way Austin says that: A command is a signification of desire, distinguished by the fact that the party to whom it is addressed is liable to evil from the party expressing the desire in case he does not comply with it.3 Bentham follows in the same tradition by defining command as "a coercive law." 4 Law, in general, he defines as "an assemblage of signs declarative of a volition conceived or adopted by the sovereign in a state." 5 In what sense, then, does command differ from the imposition of will which is control by domination? The stress on "absolute power" is a clue to a greater degree of assent than is secured by the fear of compulsion alone. Catlin sees the dual factor in sovereign power as an addition of a moral element. A wavering is noticeable in political and juristic theory between the statement that the sovereign is all powerful (under the social order) and must be obeyed, and that the sovereign ought to be all powerful (because the order is good), and it is a moral duty to obey it.8 It is not the fact that we ought to obey the sovereign, however, that marks the ambiguity which gives added power to command. It is the fact that we are obliged to obey him, and that is a different matter. The commander acts as though he must be obeyed, and therefore creates his own claim to obligation, entirely apart from the moral goodness or badness of his action, and equally apart from the powers of enforcement at his disposal. When the power of any government to command obedience is examined realistically, it is easily either reduced to domination or ignored because it is difficult to put one's finger on the difference in the power that is available. For example, Hale shows that "the absolute intent to forbid, so emphasized in 1872," has little significance in the complexities of the modern legal system. The ghost of the law's mystical "intent" lingers on in the importance attached to the difference between a penalty and a tax, despite the demonstrated insignificance of the difference to the bad man.7 A penalty undoubtedly has a greater effect on a good man's obedience than a tax, if only because he regards the one as punishment for a

Command

4J

crime. T h e control exercised by this "mystical intent" is often effective without any threat of force at all, although such control is not a matter of constitutional protection, as Hale makes clear: Legislation has sometimes been passed in the hope that the stigma or the unpopularity of disobedience will be sufficiently effective to compel action. This type of compulsion can at times be quite as effectively exerted by private bodies . . . as by the government. 8 T h e effectiveness of such legislation is not limited to routine domination or to the existing conventions of obedience. T h e distinction between domination and command is not simply that of social pressure, a sanction short of the actual threat of force, any more than it is based on the moral value of obedience alone. " C o m m a n d " is that type of control which secures obedience not by fear, but by an unquestioning social solidarity. T h e value of the "mystical intent" depends not so much on the ought as contrasted with the must, as Catlin makes the distinction, but on two kinds of "must." Command exhibits the appearance of necessity, since the commander exercises control in a psychological situation in which his supporters are not forced to obey by an embodiment of their fears, but by their general readiness for group action. For example, a foreman may order one of his men to do a certain job and be obeyed, not because of the compulsion available to the foreman, but because of the feeling that the working situation calls for orders, and here is an order. In the obedience to command, therefore, we have a situation where the need for control is recognized, although the character of that control and the ends to be achieved are left entirely to the commander. ( O f course, if the obedience to the foreman is conditional on his order's fulfilling certain accepted ends which the workman feels to be necessary, control becomes that of administration rather than of mere command.) Commands must dramatize this feeling of necessity, for obedience must seem to be a necessary outgrowth of the situation calling for control. "Absolute" power is an illusion, which secures obedience not because it reinforces the threat of compulsion, but because it creates this sense of security, strongest when in the midst of insecurity. While domination provides a focus for group fears through which men

48

Government and the Arts of Obedience

willingly yet unwillingly give up the struggle for power, command dramatizes the need for order as another alternative to group conflicts. Hobbes gives a hint of this second basis for giving up the state of war when he says that the cause of the "perpetuall and restlesse desire of Power after power" is not "alwayes that a man hopes for a more intensive delight . . . but because he cannot assure the power and means to live well, which he hath present, without the acquisition of more." 9 This implies that men need only an excuse to give up the struggle for power, and an excuse is certainly different from the fear of coercion as a ground for overcoming tendencies toward disobedience. In order to end conflict and uncertainty, there must be a specific focus in the social group which everyone can use as a basis for ending disputes. Government by command allows obedience without loss of honor to the contending parties, and enables them to accept a settlement. Disputes could go on endlessly to the frustration of all; command gives a necessary center which can resolve conflict without any force at all. Not only in the settlement of disputes, but in common action, command has power by the impressive finality that it creates. T o live is to act, and command makes action possible by furnishing an occasion for action. While domination depends for added power on the esthetics of force, command depends on the esthetics of decision. Desire for security has created the "reasons" for stopping resistance to control, and so the "reasons" have the formlessness of the insecurity without the resistance that one gives in fearing control through domination. We do not normally wait for evidence before acting in certain ways, unless bitter experience has taught us to the contrary. Similarly, we do not always wait for justification for obedience, but obey first and ask questions afterward. Therefore, command is more than a state of sovereign will; it is the assumption of authority. Power by assumption always seems "mystic" and "illusory," but it draws on the human tendency to obey without questions. The social situation is resolved not by intelligent obedience, but by presupposing a social order which thus comes into being. Merriam describes assumption as a basis for control in these terms:

Command

49

Traditionally the most common basis of obedience is no reason at all—not to raise the awkward question: to assume obedience, as the parent, associating obedience with affection and protection, superiority, and perhaps a little pressure of force. 10 Merriam includes many motivations in this assumption of obedience, but we wish to distinguish assumption from affection for a leader and fear of a dominator. Ross also stresses the importance of expecting obedience in his discussion of social suggestion: The forms of intercourse exhale an unwarranted trust in the civility and peaceableness of the average man. . . . This make-believe is thin enough, yet somehow a Juvenal, a Flaubert, or a Zola never quite abolishes the gap between expectation and reality. . . . The cynic . . . misses the secret of this invincible optimism. . . . Expectation has always been used in managing people. The notice "Gentlemen will not spit on the floor" is naive but effective.11 Like "Juvenal, Flaubert, and Zola" the theorists can easily ignore this power of expectation in their analysis of the reactions of the "bad man" to the law. Control is still quite different when enforced by a penalty, because obedience is expected and all questioning is to be ended. As a tax, however, the method of enforcement is to be equated with our other social burdens, and the social necessity is therefore less. Expectation, as Ross shows, is a social force of great importance. During election campaigns political managers make confident pronouncements of victory at the polls for their candidates, which they count on to lure voters to their "band wagon." Their confident assertion may mean the difference between victory and defeat. This power of assumption occurs on a wider scale when the actions of an agency of control crystallize a social order. A "general will" is established in a way analogous to the simple control in which we obey the injunction not to spit on the floor. The agent, i. e., the commander, impersonates the social order that is thus established. As Ross puts it: Everywhere we must distinguish from the ascendency gained by force the ascendency gained by demeanor. The stately bearing, no

50

Government and the Arts oj Obedience

less than the strong arm, was a means of control in early society. 12 This demeanor which the commander must present at all times functions in three ways. First of all, the commander (we could as easily call him the "dictator") is the Pretender. The simplest way to secure unity of action is to have one man in charge, not because such a man may not be quite changeable in his actual thoughts and plans, but because in this way there is the feeling that no conflicts will destroy the power on which security depends. T h e commander may actually be vacillating and torn between different advisors, but as a definite person in a particular place he furnishes a specific reference point for obedience. The sense of unity is destroyed, however, if the commander does not act as though he were one will regardless of the dissensions behind the scenes. In preserving this appearance of unity, the vacillations must be private or kept at a minimum in public action. This is no easy task. In the second place, the commander must be decisive. Hitler in Mein Kampf said that: T h e army trained men in resolution while elsewhere in life indecision and doubt were beginning to determine the actions of men. In an age when everywhere the know-it-alls were setting the tone, it meant something to uphold the principle that some command is always better than none. 1 3 Decision is not a distinguishing trait. Any mechanism of obedience gives the agency of control power to act, but in control by command the decisiveness must be dramatic and must take on the aura of positive and united action. The dictates of the commander must be categorical to maintain the illusion of power; and all hesitations, uncertainties, or regrets are to be ignored or ended. If the commander advances any reason for his commands, he makes clear that they must be obeyed irrespective of their reasonableness. "Gentlemen will not spit on the floor," to give Ross's example, controls because it is categorical, and the form of the command carries the weight of obedience. Again it is clear that such an aura of decision requires acting ability, perhaps mixed with conceit. It is not always easy to seem decisive, even if decisions are being made successfully by the controlling agency.

Command

5i

In the third place, the commander acts impersonally. H e docs not function as an individual who happens to be in power, but as the very embodiment of power. H e must act like one set apart; without an air of aloofness, his commands lack that sense of collective will that is vital to this form of control. T h i s is one reason why armies have separate quarters for officers and discourage association between officers and enlisted men. It is felt, and with reason, that should the occasion arise, obedience to c o m m a n d would be weakened by the absence of any barriers or distinctions between commander and commanded. Unity, decision, and impersonality, therefore, are the three attributes of this impersonation of the "general will." T h e power of command depends not only on the impersonations of the commander, but on a certain kind of social solidarity. T h e form of joint participation involved is well illustrated in Maclver's discussion of the herd spirit: T h e herd spirit is that type of imitative cohesion which prompts men when they conform blindly to the traditions and beliefs and ways of the group, . . . when they are moved by the slogans, the stereotypes, the conventions, the "idols" of their tribe. 1 4 Such "imitative cohesion" need not be that of what we have called "convention" or of custom alone, however. It can occur in novel ways, with little regard for tradition. It is this "imitative cohesion" that furnishes the social solidarity which is the basis of c o m m a n d , and while not limited to group custom, the existing habits of obedience are utilized for new types of action by mutual imitation. T h i s "imitative cohesion" has mysterious power because the causes of its motion are almost incidental to its operation. Just as a small impetus, a shot or the smell of smoke, may stampede a herd of cattle, so a word may set a large group of humans in motion. Moreover, once started, there is no saying where motion stops, for the power aroused does not necessarily bear any intrinsic relation to the stimulus, but has its own rhythm. T h e same mysterious spirit prevails in a baseball game. T h e r e is no valid explanation for a batting rally. A team held scoreless for six innings suddenly explodes a series of hits to all corners of the field. T h e batters know that something has happened; they are "clicking," their "team spirit" is evident and compelling.

52

Government and the Arts of Obedience

Then the flurry subsides without explanation. In any organization there is often the same "feel" of a common spell which binds the group together. Ross gives a good example of the power this group imitation possesses. In their baptism of fire, recruits conceal a "blue funk" under an assumed nonchalance; and this serves as a reassuring badge of the courage that the company as a whole exhibits and finally inspires in its members. The suddenness of recoil one sometimes witnesses in the retreat of a garrison, the abandonment of a strike, or the collapse of a boom is due to the fact that in a body of men the inner tension may become very great before some one . . . breaks the spelD 8 This spell-bound participation can be best described as a feeling of mutual necessity, and obedience to command must be in keeping with this illusion of necessity. To capture this spirit for allegiance to government, obedience must publicly express the sovereign will. Power disappears if it is not maintained intact and free of criticism. Hobbes says, "A Sinne, is not onely a Transgression of a Law, but also any Contempt of the Legislator. For such Contempt, is a breach of all his Lawes at once." 1 6 This indicates the importance of the aura of "law" as an unbreakable entity. Obedience must be conspicuous, and above all it is essential that any disobedience be inconspicuous. One bold challenge to the illusion of complete power threatens the whole structure, and control through command is jeopardized. The commander by assuming power inherits any existing habits of obedience. Armies no longer go into battle in drill formation, but military training still uses drills and parades as the best means of instilling in each soldier obedience and the feeling of mass cohesion required on the battlefield. By analogy the soldier is expected to learn the meaning of obedience in combat situations quite different from any obedience on the drill field. The commander also inherits all the finalities of our natural existence. In his self-assurance the necessities of life, such as eating and working and accepting our lot, are utilized for obedience. Also, through the illusion of necessary

Command

53

obedience, command takes advantage of what Barnard in his Functions of the Executive calls the "zone of indifference." T h e "zone of indifference" does not apply to this form of obedience, since in any control there is always a passive group who go along with the actions of the active members. There is a special quality to the "indifference" of the commanded, however, for it is justified only by the need for being one of the group. For example, anxiety as an emotional attitude in the face of conflict can be considered intermediate between fear and suspicion on which domination depends and insecurity on which command relies. This anxiety leads to that escape from freedom, which Fromm describes: T h e frightened individual seeks for somebody or something to tie his self to; . . . and he tries frantically to get rid of it and to feel security again by the elimination of this burden: the self. 17 T h e zone of indifference is greatly enlarged by such a premium on security. This anxiety also finds expression in an exaggerated love of action. T h e love of a spectacle, of marching men, or planes in formation, militates against a careful analysis of the purposes served. Even the illusion of power seems creative in this need for social solidarity. Since the commander acts impersonally as a sovereign rather than as an individual, the supporter feels that the ends of control are not personal rewards or punishments, but part of the social order itself. O f course, if others disobey with impunity, it breaks the impersonal tone, and the obedient feel themselves imposed upon. Having considered the power to command as issuing from a commander who impersonates social unity, and as supported by conspicuous obedience, we must now consider its symbols. In the same way that the power of the commander and the necessity for obedience are illusory but effective, so the standards which perpetuate control by command are strong only in appearance. How can the words or signs of command bind ruler and supporter? In a contract, two sets of symbols on a sheet of paper may bind men's actions for generations, exercising a control out of all proportion to the nature of the object or the desires of the parties to the contract. Command differs only in the form of the contract.

54

Government and the Arts of Obedience

The social relationships justifying command are miracles to be approached with the awe they deserve. Hobbes said that "the Pacts and Covenants, by which the parts of this Body Politique were at first made, set together, and united, resemble that Fiat, or the Let us ma\e man, pronounced by God in the Creation." 1 8 This miracle is preserved by: Artificial Chains, called Civill Lawes, which they (men) themselves, by mutuall covenants, have fastned at one end, to the lips of that Man, or Assembly, to whom they have given the Soveraigne Power; and at the other end to their own Ears. These Bonds in their own nature but weak, may neverthelesse be made to hold, by the danger, though not by the difficulty of breaking them. (p. i n ) For Hobbes, this danger in breaking the bonds is twofold: the fear of a return to the state of war and the fear of the power of the "Artificiall Man"; and so control is exercised through domination. But the view set forth here is that these words or signs have a power of their own, or else there would be no need to control opinion as long as the "Artificiall Man" can publicize his threats. "Artificial Chains" must have some feeble strength in themselves, or they could not be weakened so easily by warring words. In terms of this analysis, these words of command can be substituted for the only alternative method of causing motion, i. e., impact, and a miraculous appearance of order is maintained through command, i. e., declaration of will. For Hobbes, this necessarily meant a commander who does the "willing," and the "declaration" was subordinate to the "will," "nor can any L a w be made, till they have agreed upon the Person that shall make it" (p. 65). On the whole, he underrates the power of words themselves to exercise control. The way in which the supporters are "obliged" to obey commands is more clearly distinguished from control by domination in Hume's discussion of the obligation to keep our contracts, which he calls "promises." The social relationship binding the will differs from command only in that a promise binds individuals to performance, while a command binds individuals to obedience. Furthermore,

Command

55

Hume links the social obligation of keeping our promises to control exercised by government, in his version of the social contract: "the authority of the magistrate does at first stand upon the foundation of a promise of the subjects, by which they bind themselves to obedience, as in every other contract or engagement," 1 9 although the obligation to obedience, once established, has its own conventional basis. For Hume, too, the obligation to perform promises was a kind of miracle. It is one of the most mysterious and incomprehensible operations that can possibly be imagined, and may even be compared to transsubstantiation or holy orders, where a certain form of words, along with a certain intention, changes entirely the nature of an external object, and even of a human creature [pp. 294, 295]. In this miracle the words or signs are of more importance than the intention: The will alone is never supposed to cause the obligation, but must be expressed by words or signs, in order to impose a tie upon any man. The expression being once brought in as subservient to the will, soon becomes the principal part of the promise [pp. 293, 294]. The basis of promises, however, is interest or utility, when experience has taught us that human affairs would be conducted much more for mutual advantage, were there certain symbols or signs instituted, by which we might give each other security of our conduct in any particular incident [p. 292]. The moral obligation follows after the sense of interest, and occurs only by pretending that signs or words are expressions of will: Afterwards a sentiment of morals concurs with interest, and becomes a new obligation upon mankind. . . . We feign a new act of the mind, which we call the willing an obligation; and on this we suppose the morality to depend [p. 293]. Hume's analysis of promises applies equally well to control by command. The social bonds of command are artificial, because they are feigned, and the sovereign will, inasmuch as it is not a factual summary of the capacity to compel obedience, is a fiction, which

56

Government and the Arts of Obedience

functions through "words or signs." It is as true of commands as of promises that "the expression being once brought in as subservient to the will, soon becomes the principal part." Only, instead of giving the will a status in which it exists prior to the expression, " w i l l " and "expression" must be considered as integral aspects of command. A s H u m e shows, as this type of control becomes established, the words or signs become much more important in control than the impersonations of the commander. For H u m e , there are no "wills" apart from the regularities built up through social artifice; but obligations are not arbitrary because they are based on mutual advantage derived from experience. One difficulty lies at this point, for it is the theme of this analysis that mutual advantages differ in kind. Here w e are speaking of the mutual advantage in the need for order. Social interests manifest themselves as part of social activity, and obedience often comes first in a situation where the central group interest is the need for order, and specific social purposes have not yet emerged. T h e purposes may develop later, but cannot be read back into the basis for social control. T h e advantage which H u m e stressed most in this social regularity is the security it furnishes, and he considered the functions of government to be protection and security, rather than more specific social actions; and while obedience should cease when the " f e i g n e d " regularity becomes more inconvenient than disobedience, w e are left with no criterion of inconvenience. T h e actual social factors that assure group satisfactions are left to the commander and his staff, and are not subject to group consideration. T h e experience of most societies has amply demonstrated that we can expect less from the commander in serving the public good than from members of the group w h o are more nearly judges in their own cause, once social procedures have made such judgments possible. Once these qualifications are made with regard to mutual advantage in the performance of promises, Hume's description is applicable to commands as well as to promises. Kant's theory of moral obligation did not attempt to divorce moral obligation with its pretended regularity from the mutual advantages which it was to fulfill. H u m e had said that necessity is an illusion, and obligation to perform promises is "feigned" as an act of the will.

Command

57

Kant states boldly that such illusions are necessary, and that all obligation can only arise from postulating free will. In this way, Kant attempts to preserve Natural Law by removing it from nature and by uniting the commanded and commander in each individual as legislator. The seat of conflict is transferred from society to the self, and our emotions are conceived as chaotic, conflicting, and transitory: All feelings, especially those that are to produce unwonted exertions, must accomplish their effect at the moment they are at their height, and before they calm down; otherwise they effect nothing. 20 Therefore Kant glorifies the imperative as categorical, and the will as autonomous, not because the will is so strong but because it is so weak. If we were in the state of holiness, we should not need the imperative, because our wills would be completely embodied in our emotional selves. The autonomous will is the divine hypothesis, which works in our world of experience only if we take it categorically and not hypothetically. It is a strange escape from Hume's "predicament" to think of "reason" as pure hypothesis, a divine pretense, which alone can give morality to our actions: The conception of a world of the understanding is then only a point of view which Reason finds itself compelled to take outside the appearances in order to conceive itself as practical. . . . [The idea of freedom] holds good only as a necessary hypothesis of reason in a being that believes itself conscious of a will, that is, of a faculty distinct from mere desire.21 The will is stripped of any intelligent evaluation, because the imperative is command stripped of all except its basis in translating possibilities into action, and its universal application. Kant's view has much to justify it, because countless situations do exist where it is impossible to act at all unless a bold start is made. In individual choices as well as in social policies hesitation or wavering will often destroy the very possibility of success, since the attempt is not likely to succeed without wholehearted effort. Moreover, opposing groups may be acting with less uncertainty, and so win supporters and succeed because of this greater confidence. In this respect Kant's view of imperatives

5 11% 107-

Aristotle, 30, 78, 79, 90, i 2 6 n Arnold, T h u r m a n , 78, 81, 96, 99, 121 Art of government, 1, 14, 24, 93, 1 1 9 , 122, 124, 125; as securing obedience, 5; in management, 97 Assumption of power, 48-52 Austin, John, 3, 46 Authority, spectrum of, 7 ; external, 14; power and, 26 Autocracy, 70

108, m Community, 77-79, 82, 124 Compulsion, 2-3, 7, 13, 14, 28-34, 1 1 9 , 1 2 1 , 124 Conditioned response, 16 Conflict, as tool of control, 1 ; of interests, 3 ; psychological, 4, 34; customary, 1 3 ; physical, 26-29; in social pressures, 3 1 34; verbal, 33-34; and threats, 36; and group obedience, 1 1 9 ; and strategy, 121 Congress, 10, 94, 100, 1 1 7 ; see also Legislative power; Representation Conscience, 14-15 Consensus, emotional, 81 Consent, rational, 1, 102; nature of, 2; tacit, 86-87, 96 Constitutional system, 5, 9, 17, 24, 34, 94, 100, 105, 106; separation of powers, 10, 91, 1 1 2 ; checks and balances, 107 Constraint, 2, 7 ; see also Coercion; C o m pulsion Control, social, see Administration; C o ercion; C o m m a n d ; Convention; Custom; Domination; Leadership; Representation Convention, 4, 17-25, 37-38, 60-63, 7879, 95-96, 110, 1 1 9 , 1 2 1 , 124; relation to custom, 1 6 - 1 7 ; basis for law, 1 7 ;

Babbitt, Irving, 82 ^ Balance of power, 28, 36-37, 41, 43, J05, 1 1 3 , 122 Bargaining, 32-34, 94, 107-108 Barnard, Chester, 33, 53, 90, 92, 96, 97 Bentham, Jeremy, 3, 29, 3 5 , 39, 46, 60, 61, I 2 7 n Bentley, Arthur, 3, 94, 102-103 Bosanquet, Bernard, I 2 7 n Bureaucracy, 23, 120 Burke, E d m u n d , 12, 21, 106 Carlyle, T h o m a s , 7 1 , 74 Catlin, George, 5, 46, 47, 65 Checks and balances, 107 Coercion, 2, 4, 9, 13, 26-34, 42, 43, 45, 46, 87, 1 2 1 ; as physical force, 26-28;

Ij6

Government and the Arts of Obedience

Convention (Continued) Hume's view of, 18, 19; basis in common interest, 19, 20; initiation of, 20; adjustments in group experience, 20-21 ; symbols of, 21-22; corruption of, 23; usurpation of, 23-24; ethical problem of, 2 ; Corruption, of power, 10; of custom and convention, 22-23; of domination, 4041 ; of command, 67; of leadership, 83; of administration, 100; of representation, 1 1 4 - 1 1 5 Custom, 1, 2-3, 4, 7, 12-25, 119, 121; as spontaneous reaction, 12-15; a s absence of control, 13; as self-caused, 13; as propriety, 14; as routine, 15-16; as taken-for-granted, 15-17; as convention, 16-17; « ( *ko Convention Debate, 68, 109 Delaisi, Francis, 82 Delegation, 102-103 Demagoguery, 83, 85 Democratic government, 70, 79, 106, 116 Demos, Raphael, 61-62 Despot, 1, 19, 36, 44, 60, 119 Dewey, John, 16-17, 24, 95, 99, 112 Dictatorship, 9, 45, 50, 83, 106; see also Command; Domination Dimock, Marshall, 91 Discipleship, 80, 124 Discussion, 34, 104-106 Division of labor, 86, 87, 92, 98, 101, 124 Domination, 4, 6, 14, 20, 35-44, 104, 119, 122; control by superior force, 35-36; based on balance of power, 36-37; symbols of, 37; conventions of, 37-38; through punishment, 37-39; organization of ruling class, 38-39; expansion of power, 38-40; monopoly of force, 39; dramatization, 39-40; corruption of, 40-41 ; usurpation of, 41 ; limitations on, 42-43; ethics of, 42-44; relation to command, 45-48 Duguit, Leon, 88-89, i 2 3 Elections, 64-66, 106 Equilibration, in custom and convention,

20-21; in domination, 36-37; in ammand, 51-53, 64-66; leadership, 77, 80-81 ; administration, 94-95, 98; rep-esentation, 107-109, m - 1 1 3 Ethics of government, 1, 15, 34, 42-14, 68, 118, 125; see also Corruptiin; Usurpation; Responsibility of government Executive, 8-9, 92, 93; see also Admuistration; Presidency Fascism, 74; see also Hitler Fear, 1, 39-40; see also Coercion; Domination Folklore, 78, 81 Force, 2, 10, 26, 28-31; see also Coercion; Domination Freud, 3 Friedrich, Carl, 2, 4, 104, h i Fromm, Erich, 3, 14, 19, 53 Garlan, Edwin, 22 General will, 49, 57, 65, 74-75, 77; see also Convention Government, tools of, 1, 5, 120; ethics of, i, 5, 34, 42-44, 68, 118, 125; process of, 3, 7, 103, 119, 125; constitutional, 5, 17, 34, 100, 106, 107; based on common interest, 20, 107-108; bureaucratic, 23, 120; functions of, 56, 86-92; by able men, 69-70; budget, 83, 96; responsibility of, 84, 102-104, 119-120; see also Initiation and direction; Organization; Symbols Gulick, Luther, 98 Habit, 12, 15-17 Hale, Robert, 30-32, 46-47, I27n Hayek, Friedrich, 61, 62, 65 Hegel, 6, 10, 22, 42-43, 74, 77, 78, 81, 120, I27n Herd spirit, 51-52, 77 Hero, 71, 72, 75 Herring, Pendleton, 8, 9 Hitler, Adolph, 4, 50, 70, 71, 74, 83, 1 1 6 , 121 Hobbes, 3, 16, 25, 28, 29, 36, 38, 39, 45, 46, 47, 48, 52, 54, 58, 59, 60, 71, 122

Index Holmes, O. W „ 28-29 Hume, 18-20, 54-56, 59, 89, 107 Idealist theory, 5, 26, 42-43, 120 Impact, 26-28 Imperative, 57-59, 68, 1 1 2 - 1 1 3 Imposition, 26-28 Individual and society, 1 4 - 1 5 , 19-20, 27, 43 Initiation and direction, 1, 5, 1 3 , 20; and compulsion, 30; in domination, 35-36, 38-39; in command, 49-51, 63-64; in leadership, 73-77, 79-80; in administration, 93-94, 97; in representation, 103, 106-108, h i Interest groups, 94, 104-106, 1 1 2 , 1 1 8 Interests, 4; common interests and usurpation, 1 0 - 1 1 ; group, 94, 104-106, 1 1 2 , 1 1 8 ; individual, 105; sectional, 105; intégration of, 1 1 0 , 1 1 2 Intimidation, 32-34, 1 1 5 Jury system, 78, 81 Justice, 18, 78 Kant, 17, 42-43, 56-58, 59, 68, 86, 1 1 2 113 Kelaen, Hans, 3, 58-59, 60 Kinship, 73, 79 Laski, Harold, 87-88 Lass'well, Harold, 3, 40, 80-81, n o , 1 1 5 , 121 Law', 12-13, 17. 21-23, 25, 28-29, 46-47, 5 2 , 54, 58, 61-62, 77-78, 88, I 2 i Leadership, 1, 4, 6, 8-9, 69-85, 1 1 9 , 1231:24; as one-man rule, 69; rule by able mien, 70; as aristocracy, 70-71; nature off emotional bond, 71-74; as personification of general will, 74-75; as hero, 7*5; as champion, 75-76; as messiah, 76; tnends of, 76-77; based on community se:ntiment, 77-78; symbols of, 78; conventions of, 78-79; organization of, 798(0 ; increased power of, 79-83; based oin emotional participation, 80-81; incrreased standardization of, 81-82; cornuption of, 82-83; usurpation of, 83-84;

advantages of, 84; disadvantages of, 84-85 Lee, John, 98 Legislative body, io, 94; see also Representation Leopold, Lewis, 71-72, 87, ixga Liberal tradition, 1, 42 Llewellyn, K., 36 Locke, 86-87 Machiavelli, 40, 121 Maclver, R. M., 12-13, 16, 5 1 , 77 Maetzu, Ramiro de, 88 Majority rule, 70, 108 Management, 92-93 Mannheim, Karl, 4, 15, 23, 34, 83, 108, 114 Marshall, James, 1 1 9 Marxism, 1 1 , n o Merriam, Charles, 1, 3, 48-49, 60, 70, 73, 74. 76 Messiah, 76 Middle class, 14 Mill, John, 43, 106, 1 1 8 , 128a Minority interests, 108-109 Monarchy, 1, 40, 67, 69 Monopoly, 9, 33-34; of force, 3 1 , 39, 1 2 2 Montesquieu, 1, 9, 10, 65, 119-120, u 6 n Mussolini, Benito, 74, 1 1 6 Natural law, 2, 7, 12, 14, 24, 57, 81 Neuroses, 4 Niemeyer, Gerhart, 64-65, 88, 90, 95, I29n Obedience, 1 , 2, 6 - 1 1 , 14; as basis for contexts of government, 1 ; types of as tools of control, 1, 4-5; as mixture of force and consent, 2; related to process of decision, 6; obedience of child to father, 7-8; perversion of, 1 0 - 1 1 ; spontaneous, 12-15; submission, 14, 25, 35, 37> 77; conspicuous, 52; as types of responsibility, 119-120, 1 2 5 ; see also Equilibration Obligation, 56-59; see also Convention Organization, of domination, 38-39; of command, 63-64; of leadership, 79-80;

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Government

and the Arts of Obedience

Organization (Continued) of administration, 97; of representation, h i Parliamentary system, 33, 66, 104, 108, 116; see also Legislative body; Representation Parties, 79-80, m Pavlov, 16 Peace, preservation of, 19, 20 Perversion, of power, 10, 1 2 1 ; of custom and convention, 22-24; of domination, 40-41; of command, 67; of leadership, 82-84; of administration, 1 0 0 - 1 0 1 ; of representation, 113-116 Petrillo, James, 9 Plato, 74, 86 Policy formation, 10, 91, 94 Politics, 81, 9 1 ; see also Government Pound, Roscoe, 2 1 - 2 2 Power, distinguished in terms of obedience, 1; nature of, 2; will to, 2, 3, 88; physical, 3, 28-29; mistaken for domination, $-6; parental, 7-8, 40, 44, 49; presidential, 8-9; separation of, 10; perversion of, 10-11; based on custom, 12; as regimentation, 1 3 ; balance of, 36-37; expansion of, 38-40; assumption, 48-52; impersonation of, 49-51; personal, 72-73; as division of labor, 86-87, 98 Presidency, 8-9, 72, 80, 112, 1 2 2 Pressures, group, 3; social, 3 1 - 3 4 Prestige, 7 1 - 7 2 Price system, 62, 65 Process of government, 3, 7, 1 1 9 , 125 Promises, 54-55 Propriety, 14, 1 2 1 - 1 2 2 Psychological warfare, 4, 11, 104 Psychology, 3, 13, 34 Public opinion, 74, 104-105, 106-107, 109 ; see also Symbols Public policy, n o Punishment, 35, 37-39. 4®, 53 Rationalization, 102 Rebellion, 6, 20 Red tape, 99

Representation, 4, 5, 7, 10, 20, 24, 30, 90, 102-118, 119, 123, 124; based on consent, 102; as delegation, 102-103; compared to administration, 103-104; based on discussion, 104-105; interest groups, 105-106; elections and party system, 106; initiation and direction of, 106-107; equilibration, 107-109; symbols of, 109-110; conventions of, 110; expansion of, 110-113; organization of, 111 ; increased participation in, 111 1 1 2 ; standardization of, 1 1 2 - 1 1 3 ; corruption of, 114-115; usurpation of, 1 1 5 - 1 1 6 ; advantages of, 1 1 6 ; disadvantages of, 116-118 Representative, 101-103, 1 1 2 ; President as representative, 8-9, 1 1 2 ; in Congress, 10 Representative institution, 104 Repression, 3, 4 Responsibility of government, 84, 102104, 1 1 9 - 1 2 0 Ross, E. A., 12, 38, 49-50, 52 Rosten, Leo, 1 1 4 Rousseau, 82, 86 Routine, 15-16, 43 Russell, Bertrand, 119, i27n Security, 4, 19-20, 47-48, 56 Self-government, 8, 118; see also Constitutional government Separation of powers, 10, 91, 1 1 2 Smith, T . V., 33-34 Social control, 5, 10, 12, 18; arbitrary, 16, 78; standard of reasonableness, 22 Social function, 88-90 Social pressures, 3, 31-34, 47 Social solidarity, 6, 47, 51-52 Sociology, 4 Socrates, 79 Sovereignty, 6, 9, 40, 45-53, 87-89, 122123 Specialization, 92 Spontaneity, 1 2 - 1 5 Standards, 21-22; see also Symbols State, 31, 79, 100, 120 Stereotypes, 4, 25, 51

Index Strategy, i , 121, 122-123; strategic factor, 97-98 Submission, 14, 25, 35, 37, 77 Support, tool] of, t ; nature of, 6-11; see also Obedience Supreme court, 9, 31 Symbols, tools of control, 1; and custom, 21-22; conflict of, 33-34; of domination, 37, 39-40; of command, $4-58, 66-68; archaic, 66-67, 82; of leadership, 78, 81-82; of administration, 9 ; , 98-100; of representation, 109-110, 112-113 Taboo, 2;, 40, 42, 78, 122 Tannenbaum, Frank, 100 Techniques, 99 Tools of control, 1, 4, 5, 120 Tradition, 21 Trust, 6, 8, 72, 75, 81

Tyranny, i , 2, 10, 41, 120; see also Usurpation Usurpation, nature of, io, 121; of custom and convention, 23-24; of domination, 41; of command, 67; of leadership, 83-84; of administration, 101; of representation, i i ; - i i 6 Violence, 1, 4, 26-28, 31, 121 Vote, 64-66, 104, 106 White, Leonard, 94 Will, nature of, 5-6, 29; and habit, 16; and domination, 35; and obligation, 54-59; and function, 88-89; of the whole, 120; see also General Will Wirth, Louis, 15 Zone of indifference, 53