We regard society as the ensemble and union of men engaged in useful work. We can conceive of no other kind of society.
Society has two enemies which it fears and detests equally: anarchy and despotism.
The constitution is the only restriction which the thought of the political writer has to respect. Against and outside the constitution there can be no useful work; within the limits it prescribes the most complete liberty can do no harm. This liberty is the property of the writer, just as the constitution itself is the property of the nation and the Government.
Men engaged in industry, whose association forms the true society, have only one need: liberty. Liberty for them is to be unrestricted in productive work, to be allowed free enjoyment of what they produce.
Man is lazy by nature. The man who works overcomes his laziness only because his needs have to be fulfilled, or through his desire for pleasure. He only works, therefore, according to his needs and desires. But in the state of society the pleasures which attract him are increased and are much more numerous than his productive powers. He is therefore forced to give up a part of what he produces in exchange for certain products which he cannot obtain directly through his own work. This necessity (which is transformed for him into a source of wealth) is the only one he recognises, the only one to which he willingly submits; that is to say, the industrious man, such as he is, is really subject to only one law: that of his self-interest.
But there is surrounding society, there circulates in its bosom a throng of parasites who, although they have the same needs and desires as the others, have not been able to overcome the natural laziness common to all men, and who, although they produce nothing, consume or seek to consume as though they did produce. These men use force to live off the work of the rest, either off what they are given or what they can take. In short, they are idlers, that is, thieves.
The workers are thus liable to see themselves deprived of the pleasure which is the aim of their labour. As a result of this danger they develop a particular kind of need, which in turn gives rise to a quite distinctive type of labour. The aim of this labour is to prevent the violence with which idleness threatens industry.
In the eyes of industry a government is simply an enterprise for carrying out this task. Government is concerned with idleness. As soon as its activities go beyond that, it becomes an arbitrary usurper and consequently the tyrannical enemy of industry. It commits the evil which it is supposed to be preventing. In working for himself man desires to work in his own way. Whenever a superior and alien activity interferes in industry and claims to govern it, it hinders and discourages industry. Industrial activity declines at a rate which is an exact function of the restrictions to which it is subject.* If industrials are to be governed, it is not in their capacity as industrials.
Since governmental activity may be deemed a service which is useful to society, society should consent to pay for this service.
While the seaman is crossing the seas, he cannot farm the fields. While the ruler is looking after the safety of the producers, he cannot produce. But the seaman and the ruler both do their share of useful work. Both earn their share of what is produced. The seaman's share is easily determined through competition. But what should the Government's share be?
Industry's chief concern is to solve this problem. For if it does not make the necessary sacrifices, the service will deteriorate and the safety required by industry will not be complete.
If, on the other hand, it lacks sufficient information to estimate the value of the service, and pays more than it should for it, industry suffers a double disadvantage. First, it deprives its productive occupations of some of the capital they need in order to prosper. And also, it grants to the Government an excess of force and activity which is bound to be felt by industry and exercised to its detriment.
Industry needs to be governed as little as possible, and this can only be done if it is governed as cheaply as possible.
Suppose one could find the least intelligent man in industrial society a man whose ideas extend no further than his domestic affairs. After informing him that most of the tax he pays is used as a salary for work which secures his security and the unhindered enjoyment of his property, one might ask him this question:
If it were possible to enjoy these same advantages for less money than you pay today, would you not prefer it?
And if it were obvious to you that by paying less for your security, the latter would be more completely and better assured, would you not be even more inclined to favour cheapness?
There can be no doubt about this man's reply. Very well, we shall say to him, that is what we want to achieve for you, what the whole of society desires as naturally as you, and what we are seeking as well. That is the aim of our enterprise.
It was in America, while I was fighting for the cause of industrial liberty, that I first felt the desire to see this plant from another world flower in my own country. This desire has since dominated all my thinking. Without respite I studied the course of advancement and further assured myself that the progress of civilisation could have no other end. And I invoked this aim of true liberty, true public happiness, with my most fervent hopes. For me every event that seemed to point in that direction was a new joy, a new hope. The French Revolution broke out, and at first it seemed to be thoroughly industrial. But it soon lost that character, and the many noble efforts which ought to have produced liberty resulted only in the tyranny of the Jacobins and military despotism. A happier age has now started to dawn for us: at last a government has been established which declares its own power to be based on the power of opinion. Ever since then France has yielded to common sense, that is, to the free discussion of its common interests.
If this discussion was to be as complete as possible, if it was to lead to certain and important results, one precondition seemed to me to be necessary, and that condition I now believe to be fulfilled.
We have identified two kinds of workers in society: those who produce, and those who safeguard the producers. There is also a third: those men whose job it is to think about the general interests of society, political writers. Now, since it is the Government which actually administers the general interests of society, it is with the Government that this class of workers is naturally allied.
This state of affairs would cause no problem if the Government always regarded writers as a council of enlightened men who can clarify and facilitate its work. But that is not the case: the interests of governments do not always coincide with the general interest. Indeed, in one sense the two are naturally opposed.* Also, governments are much less inclined to seek advice on what is expedient, on what it is best to do, than to regard as good what they have actually done or what they intend to do. They strive with all their influence to form public opinion rather than to encourage its expression. And rather than look for men who will debate, they prefer those who will approve and demonstrate, in short, advocates rather than advisers.
It may be argued that writers stick to their convictions and serve only the truth, and that they only approve and support governmental conduct when they judge it to be in the interests of the governed. We accept that. We know that even those writers working under the eyes and under the influence of the Government always work, or at least claim to work only for society as a whole, and would be offended if it were thought otherwise. Nevertheless, we are convinced that the governed know better than anyone what they want and what is in their interest. We believe that government is at least an unnecessary intermediary between those who think about the public interest and those who feel it, between political writers and industry.
Accordingly, I consider it necessary to find a means of abolishing this useless and often dangerous intermediary. Direct relations should be established between industry and men of letters. Liberals, who think that governments exist only for those who are governed, and not vice versa, should expect something more for their good heart than abandonment and poverty. In short, there should be established, besides the favour and protection of power, a national protection and power.
That is industry's aim in launching the present enterprise.* That is the spirit in which industry presents itself and which it takes as its personal stake in the proposed association: the union of commercial and manufacturing industry with literary and scientific industry.
Industry is but one single, vast body, all of whose limbs respond to each other and are thus in solidarity. The good and evil of each part affect all the others. Always it has just one interest, one need, one life. But if the whole possesses feeling, it is the head alone which does the thinking for the body. It is there that revolutions take shape, needs are felt, and desires expressed.]
[Oeuvres, vol. I, pt. 2. 128-37.]