A good government, as conceived by the colonials back in 1776, was any form of government that guaranteed “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” That last part, the pursuit of happiness, presumably meant freedom from the unnecessary taxes, stiff tariffs, and forced military quartering that the British Crown was then inflicting on their North American colonies. In 1787, the newly independent colonies sought to create such a government. Because Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness were presumably the desire of all citizens, and certainly not the desire of rulers, they crafted a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.” Later, in 1789, that government added a Bill of Rights, reasoning that even the most popular and democratic governments might become rather tyrannical under certain circumstances.
In fact, on close inspection, the Constitution outlining our government seems particularly crafted to avoid such tyranny. The ancient Greek historian Herodotus famously relates the response of one tyrant to another when asked how to maintain power: he took his pupil to a wheat field and systematically lopped off the top of every stalk that extended above the average height. The freedoms guaranteed by the Bill of Rights—for example, the freedoms of speech and expression—allow people to stand out without fear of the tyrant’s reprisal. And when people can stand out, rival leaders can be born, and large groups can be organized to support them, and governments can change. So goes our own government.
It seems pretty successful. We stand alone today as arguably the most influential country in the world, both in terms of political authority, economic effect, and military power. Moreover, our citizens are quite conspicuously prosperous and successful on an individual level (think movie stars, athletes, and businessmen): and this in spite of our government changing, really, every two years. Every two years, we have the opportunity of changing a certain number of elected representatives, including (every four years) our supreme executive, the President. Yet as our current presidential election progresses, we are treated to rhetoric that is by turns extravagant and bitter and we are confronted by issues that test our racial and socioeconomic prejudices. Is this divisive back-and-forth really necessary for a government free from tyranny?
Answering this question requires a hard look the idea of Democracy. It has been tried often in the past, generally with great success (the French Revolution represents perhaps the only attempt at Democracy that completely failed). Aristotle considers the subject closely in his Politics, written around 330 BC. He concludes that a Democracy, or a government of the people (i.e. where common people govern), may take two forms. The first, and better form, is one in which leaders are determined by lottery. From the pool of eligible citizens, leaders would be chosen randomly. This, to us, might seem absurd. Would the average plumber or secretary be qualified as the governor of a state, or a senator, or even the President? perhaps not. Aristotle concedes this. He argues, however, that since it minimizes the chance for an unscrupulous—possibly tyrannical—person to become a leader, it best maintains a government truly “by the people.”
The second form of Democracy that Aristotle identifies is one whose leaders are elected. This method clearly has advantages: the people presumably will choose the most qualified candidate, or the candidate that most closely conforms to their ideal of a leader. But there are two grave weaknesses in this system. First, it allows people with tyrannical temperaments to attempt to gain power, perhaps by manipulating the citizenry into electing them (they might do this by pretending to be virtuous and humble, or by portraying their rivals as cruel or power-hungry); second, it puts the future of the state in the hands of the mob, who hold electoral power. The mob, manifestly, may not have the state’s best interest at heart, or they may not have all their fellow citizens’ best interests at heart. When the mob is hostile to a minority, as the Germans were to their Jews after the First World War, persecution follows.
Obviously, our nation has an elected government. And our Constitution protects against many of the weaknesses inherent in such a government. We cannot officially persecute others for their opinions, race, religious beliefs, or sexual orientation; we cannot stop citizens from assembling in groups or protecting themselves. Our legal system guarantees that all are equal before the law. And yet with all these safeguards, we still suffer many ill effects from our particular system.
During the current presidential election race, we must choose between all sorts of moral imperatives. Various interest groups (“mobs”) clamor for our attention on socioeconomic disparity, or governmental infringement on our privacy, or involvement in foreign military campaigns. The candidates and their various supporters are trying to manipulate us by portraying their rivals in a negative light, claiming that our nation is suffering and that they know how to fix it, and (perhaps) disguising their true intentions. How are we to choose amongst all these issues and people?
Interestingly enough, Aristotle seems to have an answer for us. He begins his discussion in the Politics with the family. Apparently the natural affection between family members and the more immediate need they have for one another (an infant will starve if its mother doesn’t feed it) creates, generally, an effective government in microcosm: here are various authority figures, like adults (especially the two parents) and older siblings, and the entire organization is oriented toward its own health and propagation. And while the Family in our country has rather broken down of late (evidenced by the staggering divorce and single-parent statistics and any one of a number of MTV shows), it is still the primary place wherein an individual will learn when it is appropriate to exercise or succumb to authority, how to care for others, and what is morally right.
Navigating the pitfalls of an elected Democracy seems to rely on our nation’s ability to function as a family, and not in the sentimental sense of that phrase. Deciding what is best for the nation, instead of what is best for ourselves, means conceiving of some kind of affection—loyalty is almost sufficient—for our countrymen and our country’s honor. Exercising this particular affection often means exercising our right to free speech, but not to hurt and degrade others; it often means exercising our right to freely assemble, but not to exclude or marginalize others. Much of our society teaches us to be selfish, and that certainly contributes to the breakdown in families--those who would politically manipulate us appeal to selfishness in order gain our support. Only by an honest examination of our own individual motives, and a conscious abandonment of selfishness and prejudice, will we be able to determine what is right for our neighbors and for our nation as a whole.
