The Inference

I. Some Implications Of The Preceding Analysis

THE theory of competitive leadership has proved a satisfactory interpretation of the facts of the democratic process. So we shall naturally use it in our attempt to unravel the relation between democracy and a socialist order of things. As has been stated before, socialists claim not only compatibility; they claim that democracy implies socialism and that there cannot be true democracy except in socialism. On the other hand, the reader cannot but be familiar with at least some of the numerous pamphlets that have been published in this country during the last few years in order to prove that a planned economy, let alone full-fledged socialism, is completely incompatible with democracy. Both standpoints are of course easy to understand from the psychological background of the contest and from the natural wish of both parties to it to secure the support of a people the great majority of whom fervently believes in democracy. But suppose we ask: where lies the truth?

Our analysis in this and preceding parts of this book readily yields an answer. Between socialism as we defined it and democracy as we defined it there is no necessary relation: the one can exist without the other. At the same time there is no incompatibility: in appropriate states of the social environment the socialist engine can be run on democratic principles. But observe that these simple statements depend upon our view about what socialism and democracy are. Therefore they mean not only less than, but also something different from, what either party to the contest has in mind. For this reason and also because behind the question of mere compatibility there inevitably arises the further question whether the democratic method will work more or less effectively in a socialist as compared with a capitalist regime, we have still a lot of explaining to do. In particular we must try to formulate the conditions under which the democratic method can be expected to give satisfaction. This will be done in the second section of this chapter. Now we shall look at some of the implications of our analysis of the democratic process. First of all, according to the view we have taken, democracy does not mean and cannot mean that the people actually rule in any obvious sense of the terms “people” and “rule.” Democracy means only that the people have

the opportunity of accepting or refusing the men who are to rule them. But since they might decide this also in entirely undemocratic ways, we have had to narrow our definition by adding a further criterion identifying the democratic method, viz., free competition among would-be leaders for the vote of the electorate. Now one aspect of this may be expressed by saying that democracy is the rule of the politician. It is of the utmost importance to realize clearly what this implies. Many exponents of democratic doctrine have striven hard to divest political activity of any professional connotation. They have held strongly, sometimes passionately, that politics ought not to be a profession and that democracy degenerates whenever it becomes one. But this is just ideology. It is true that, say, businessmen or lawyers may be elected to serve in parliament and even taken office occasionally and still remain primarily businessmen and lawyers. It is also true that many who become primarily politicians continue to rely on other activities for their livelihood. 1 But normally, personal success in politics, more than occasional rise to cabinet office in particular, will imply concentration of the professional kind and relegate a man’s other activities to the rank of sidelines or necessary chores. If we wish to face facts squarely, we must recognize that, in modern democracies of any type other than the Swiss, politics will unavoidably be a career. This in turn spells recognition of a distinct professional interest in the individual politician and of a distinct group interest in the political profession as such. It is essential to insert this factor into our theory. Many a riddle is solved as soon as we take account of it. 2 Among other things we immediately cease to wonder why it is that politicians so often fail to serve the interest of their class or of the groups with which they are personally connected. Politically speaking, the man is still in the nursery who has not absorbed, so as never to forget, the saying attributed to one of the most successful politicians that ever lived: “What businessmen do not understand is that exactly as they are dealing in oil so I am dealing in votes.” 3

1 Illustrations abound of course. A particularly instructive class are the lawyers in the French chambre and sénat. Some of the outstanding political leaders were also great avocats: think for instance of Waldeck-Rousseau and of Poincaré. But as a rule (and if we choose to neglect the cases in which lawyers’ firms will miraculously run by themselves if one of their partners is a leading politician and enjoys frequent spells of political office) success at the bar and success in politics do not go together. 2 It should be noticed how this argument links up with our analysis of the position and behavior of the intellectuals in ch. xiii, Section II. 3 Such a view is sometimes disapproved of as frivolous or cynical. I think, on the contrary, that it is frivolous or cynical to render lip service to slogans for which in private one has nothing but an augur’s smile. But it is just as well to point out that the view in question is not so derogatory to the politician as it might seem. It does not exclude ideals

Let us note that there is no reason to believe that this will be either better or worse in a socialist organization of society. The doctor or engineer who means to fill the cup of his ambitions by means of success as a doctor or engineer will still be a distinct type of man and have a distinct pattern of interests; the doctor or engineer who means to work or reform the institutions of his country will still be another type and have another pattern of interests.

Second, students of political organization have always felt doubts concerning the administrative efficiency of democracy in large and complex societies. In particular it has been urged that, as compared with other arrangements, the efficiency of democratic government is inevitably impaired because of the tremendous loss of energy which the incessant battle in parliament and outside of it imposes upon the leading men. It is further impaired, for the same reason, by the necessity of bending policies to the exigencies of political warfare. Neither proposition is open to doubt. Both are but corollaries to our previous statement that the democratic method produces legislation and administration as by-products of the struggle for political office. Visualize, for instance, the situation of a Prime Minister. Where governments are as unstable as they have been in France from 1871 to the breakdown in 1940, his attention must be almost monopolized by a task that is like trying to build a pyramid from billiard balls. Only men of quite unusual force under such conditions can have had any energy to spare for current administrative work on bills and so on; and only such exceptional men can have acquired any authority with their civil service subordinates who like everybody else knew that their chief would be out before long. Of course this is not anything like as bad in the English case. Unstable governmental combinations are exceptions, and normally a government can count on a life of about five or six years. Ministers can settle down in their offices and are not so easy to unhorse in Parliament. But this does not mean that they are exempt from fighting. There always is a current contest and if governments are not constantly on trial for their lives it is only because they are as a rule able to smother current attacks this side of the danger point. The Prime Minister has to watch his opponents all the time, to lead his own flock incessantly, to be ready to step into breaches that might open at any moment, to keep his hand on the measures under debate, to control his cabinet—all of which amounts to saying that, when or a sense of duty. The analogy with the businessman will again help to make this clear. As I have said in another place, no economist who knows anything about the realities of business life will hold for a moment that sense of duty and ideals about service and efficiency play no role in shaping businessmen’s behavior. Yet the same economist is within his rights if he bases his explanation of that behavior on a schema that rests on the profit motive.