The Soul of Democracy | Page 3

the formation
of the Prussian empire and for the half century of its existence, every
force of social control--press, church, state, education, social
opinion--was deliberately employed to stamp on the German people
one idea--the subordination of the individual to the state, as the

supreme and only virtue. How far has the policy succeeded?
Apparently absolutely. To the outside observer the old spirit seems
utterly gone. How far this policy has been helped by the cultivation of
the fear of the Slav, one cannot say. Looking at the map of Europe, one
sees that the geographical relation of Germany to the great Slavic
empire is not unlike the relation of Holland to Germany. Thus the
deliberate fostering of fear of the vast empire of the East has done
much to strengthen the hands of the Prussian regime in its chosen task.
Nevertheless, when one recalls the spiritual heritage of Germany: when
one thinks of Herder, Schiller and Goethe; Tauler, Luther and
Schleiermacher; Froebel, Herbart and Richter; Kant, Fichte and Novalis;
Mozart, Beethoven and Wagner; one feels that something of the old
German heritage must survive. When the German people find out what
has happened to them and why, that heritage surely ought to show in
some reaction against the present autocratic regime, after the War
closes, if not before, perhaps even to the extent of making Germany a
republic. That would be some compensation for the waste and
destruction of the War. Meantime Germany stands now, ruthlessly, for
the dedication of Man to the State.
One can understand why a Prussian minister forbade the teaching of
Froebel's ideas in Prussia during the latter period of the educator's life.
So one understands the hatred of Goethe because he refused allegiance
to a narrow nationalism and remained cosmopolitan in his world-view.
Similarly Hegel, with his justification of absolute monarchy and his
theory of the German state as the acme of all spiritual evolution, was
the acclaimed orthodox philosopher of Prussia, while the individualist,
Schopenhauer, was neglected and despised.
One must have lived in Germany to realize the absolute control of the
State over the individual--the incessant surveillance, the petty
regulations, the constant interference with private life. It was to escape
just this vexatious control, with the arduous militarism in which it
culminates, that so vast a multitude of Germans left their native land
and came to the United States--not all of whom have shown
appreciation and loyalty to the free land that welcomed them.

III
THE IDEAS FOR WHICH THE ALLIED NATIONS FIGHT

In contrast to the idea for which Germany now stands, the Anglo-Saxon
instinctively and tenaciously believes in the liberty and initiative of the
individual. We, of course, are no longer Anglo-Saxon. When De
Tocqueville in 1831 visited our country, surveyed our institutions and,
after returning home, made his trenchant diagnosis of our democracy,
he could justly designate us Anglo-Americans. That time is past; we are
to-day everything and nothing: a great nation in the womb of time,
struggling to be born.
Nevertheless, Anglo-American ideas still dominate and inspire our
civilization. It is, indeed, remarkable to what an extent this is true, in
the face of the mingling of heterogeneous races in our population. As
English is our speech, so Anglo-American ideas are still the soul of our
life and institutions.
This is evident in the jealousy of authority. We resent the intrusion of
the government into affairs of private life, and prefer to submit to
annoyances and even injustice on the part of other individuals, rather
than to have protection at the price of paternalistic regulation by the
state. We resent any law that we do not see is necessary to the general
welfare, and are rather lawless even then. This shows clearly in our
reaction on legislation in regard to drink. The prohibition of
intoxicating liquor is about the surest way to make an Anglo-Saxon
want to go out and get drunk, even when he has no other inclination in
that direction. In Boston, under the eleven o'clock closing law, men in
public restaurants will at times order, at ten minutes of eleven, eight or
ten glasses of beer or whiskey, for fear they might want them, whereas,
if the restriction had not been present, two or three would have
sufficed.
Not long ago we saw the very labor leaders who forced the Adamson
law through congress, threatening to disobey any legislation limiting
their own freedom of action, even though vitally necessary to the
freedom of all.
The general behavior under automobile and traffic regulation illustrates
the tendency evenmore clearly. Thinking over the list of acquaintances
who own automobiles, one finds it hard to recall one who would not
break the speed law at a convenient opportunity. Even a staid college
professor, who has walked the walled-in path all his