3. CHAPTER III
OF THE SUPPRESSIONS OF ERRONEOUS OPINIONS IN RELIGION AND GOVERNMENT
The same views which have prevailed for the introduction of religious
establishments have inevitably led to the idea of provisions against the
rise and progress of heresy. No arguments can be adduced in favour of the
political patronage of truth that will not be equally cogent in behalf of
the political discouragement of error. Nay, they will, of the two, perhaps
be most cogent in the latter case; as to prevent men from going wrong is
a milder and more temperate assumption of power than to compel them to go
right. It has however happened that this argument, though more tenable, has
had fewer adherents. Men are more easily reconciled to abuse in the distribution
of rewards, than in the infliction of penalties. It seems therefore the less
necessary laboriously to insist upon the refutation of this principle; its
discussion is principally requisite for the sake of method.
Various arguments have been alleged in defence of this restraint. 'The
importance of opinion, as a general proposition, is notorious and unquestionable.
Ought not political institution to take under its inspection that root from
which all our voluntary actions are ultimately derived? The opinions of men
must be expected to be as various as their education and their temper: ought
not government to exert its foresight, to prevent this discord from breaking
out into anarchy and violence? There is no proposition so absurd, or so hostile
to morality and public good, as not to have found its votaries: will there
be no danger in suffering these eccentricities to proceed unmolested, and
every perverter of truth and justice to make as many converts as he is able?
It may be found indeed to be a hopeless task to endeavour to extirpate by
the hand of power errors already established; but is it not the duty of government
to prevent their ascendancy, to check the growth of their adherents, and
the introduction of heresies hitherto unknown? Can those persons to whom
the care of the general welfare is confided, or who are fitted, by their
situation, or their talents, to suggest proper regulations to the adoption
of the community, be justified in conniving at the spread of such extravagant
and pernicious opinions as strike at the root of order and morality? Simplicity
of mind, and an understanding undebauched with sophistry, have ever been
the characteristics of a people among whom virtue has flourished: ought not
government to exert itself, to exclude the inroad of qualities opposite to
these? It is thus that the friends of moral justice have ever contemplated
with horror the progress of infidelity and latitudinarian principles. It
was thus that the elder Cato viewed with grief the importation into his own
country of that plausible and loquacious philosophy by which Greece had already
been corrupted.'[1]
There are several trains of reflection which these reasoning suggest.
None of them can be more important than that which may assist us in detecting
the error of the elder Cato, and of other persons who have been the zealous,
but mistaken, advocates of virtue. Ignorance is not necessary to render men
virtuous. If it were, we might reasonably conclude that virtue was an imposture,
and that it was our duty to free ourselves from its shackles. The cultivation
of the understanding has no tendency to corrupt the heart. A man who should
possess all the science of Newton, and all the genius of Shakespeare, would
not, on that account, be a bad man. Want of great and comprehensive views
had as considerable a share as benevolence in the grief of Cato. The progress
of science and intellectual cultivation, in some degree, resembles the taking
to pieces a disordered machine, with a purpose, by reconstructing it, of
enhancing its value. An uninformed and timid spectator might be alarmed at
the temerity of the artist, at the confused heap of pins and wheels that
are laid aside at random, and might take it for granted that nothing but
destruction could be the consequence. But he would be disappointed. It is
thus that the extravagant sallies of mind are the prelude of the highest
wisdom, and that the dreams of Ptolemy were destined to precede the discoveries
of Newton.
The event cannot be other than favourable. Mind would else cease to be
mind. It would be more plausible to say that the incessant cultivation of
the understanding will terminate in madness than that it will terminate in
vice. As long as enquiry is suffered to proceed, and science to improve,
our knowledge is perpetually increased. Shall we know everything else, and
nothing of ourselves? Shall we become clear-sighted and penetrating in all
other subjects, without increasing our penetration upon the subject of man?
Is vice most truly allied to wisdom, or to folly? Can mankind perpetually
increase in wisdom, without increasing in the knowledge of what it is wise
for them to do? Can a man have a clear discernment, unclouded with any remains
of former mistake, that this is the action he ought to perform, most conducive
to his own interest, and to the general good, most delightful at the instant,
and satisfactory in the review, most agreeable to reason, justice and the
nature of things, and refrain from performing it? Every system which has
been constructed relative to the nature of superior. beings and Gods, amidst
its other errors, has reasoned truly upon these topics, and taught that the
accession of wisdom and knowledge led, not to malignity and tyranny, but
to benevolence and justice.
Secondly, the injustice of punishing men for their opinions and arguments
will be still more visible if we reflect on the nature of punishment. Punishment
is one of the classes of coercion, and, as such, may perhaps be allowed to
have an occasional propriety, where the force introduced is the direct correlative
of corporal violence previously exerted. But the case of false opinions and
perverse arguments is of a very different nature. Does any man assert falsehood?
Nothing further can appear requisite than that it should be confronted with
truth. Does he bewilder us with sophistry? Introduce the light of reason,
and his deceptions will vanish. Where argument, erroneous statements, and
misrepresentation alone are employed, argument alone should be called forth
to encounter them.
To enable us to estimate properly the value of laws for the punishment
of heresy, let us suppose a country to be sufficiently provided with such
laws, and observe the result. The object is to prevent men from entertaining
certain opinions, or, in other words, from thinking in a certain way. What
can be more absurd than to undertake to put fetters upon the subtlety of
thought? How frequently does the individual who desires to restrain it in
himself fail in the attempt? Add to this that prohibition and menace in this
respect, will frequently give new restlessness to the curiosity of the mind.
I must not so much as think of the propositions that there is no God; that
the stupendous miracles of Moses and Christ were never really performed;
that the dogmas of the Athanasian creed are erroneous. I must shut my eyes,
and run blindly into all the opinions, religious and political, that my ancestors
regarded as sacred. Will this, in all instances, be possible?
There is another consideration, trite indeed, but the triteness of which
is an additional argument of its truth. Swift says 'Men ought to be permitted
to think as they please, but not to propagate their pernicious opinions.'[2]
The obvious answer to this is, 'We are much obliged to him: how would he
be able to punish our heresy, even if he desired it, so long as it was concealed?'
The attempt to punish opinion is absurd: we may be silent respecting our
conclusions, if we please; the train of thinking by which those conclusions
are generated cannot fail to be silent.
'But, if men be not punished for their thoughts, they may be punished
for uttering those thoughts.' No. This is not less impossible than the other.
By what arguments will you persuade every man in the nation to exercise the
trade of an informer? By what arguments will you persuade my bosom-friend,
with whom I repose all the feelings of my heart, to repair immediately from
my company to a magistrate, in order to procure my commitment, for so doing,
to the prisons of the inquisition? In countries where this is attempted,
there will be a frequent struggle, the government endeavouring to pry into
our most secret transactions, and the people excited to countermine, to outwit
and to execrate their superintendents.
But the most valuable consideration which this part of the subject suggests
is, Supposing all this were done, what judgement must we form of the people
among whom it is done? Though all this cannot, yet much may be performed;
though the embryo cannot be annihilated, it may be prevented from expanding
itself into the dimensions of a man. The arguments by which we were supposing
a system for the restraint of opinion to be recommended were arguments derived
from a benevolent anxiety for the virtue of mankind, and to prevent their
degeneracy. Will this end be accomplished? Let us contrast a nation of men
daring to think, to speak, and to act what they believe to be right, and
fettered with no spurious motives to dissuade them from right, with a nation
that fears to speak, and fears to think upon the most interesting subjects
of human enquiry. Can any spectacle be more degrading than this timidity?
Can men in whom mind is thus annihilated be capable of any good or valuable
purpose? Can this most abject of all slaveries be the genuine state, the
true perfection of the human species?[3]
Another argument, though it has often been stated to the world, deserves
to be mentioned in this place. Governments no more than individual men are
infallible. The cabinets of princes and the parliaments of kingdoms, if there
by any truth in considerations already stated,[4] are often less likely
to be right in their conclusions than the theorist in his closet. But, dismissing
the estimate of greater and less, it was to be presumed from the principles
of human nature, and is found true in fact, that cabinets and parliaments
are liable to vary from each other in opinion. What system of religion or
government has not, in its turn, been patronized by national authority? The
consequence therefore of admitting this authority is not merely attributing
to government a right to impose some, but any, or all, opinions upon the
governed. Are Paganism and Christianity, the religions of Mahomet, Zoroaster
and Confucius, are monarchy and aristocracy, in all their forms, equally
worthy to be perpetuated among mankind? Is it certain that the greatest of
human calamities is change? Must we never hope for advance and improvement?
Have no revolution in government, and no reformation in religion, been productive
of more benefit than disadvantage? There is no species of reasoning, in defence
of the suppression of heresy, which may not be brought back to this monstrous
principle that the knowledge of truth, and the introduction of right principles
of policy, are circumstances altogether indifferent to the welfare of mankind.
The same reasonings that are here employed against the forcible suppression
of religious heresy will be found equally valid with respect to political.
The first circumstance that will not fail to suggest itself to every reflecting
mind is, What sort of constitution must that be which must never be examined?
whose excellencies must be the constant topic of eulogium, but respecting
which we must never permit ourselves to enquire in what they consist? Can
it be the interest of society to proscribe all investigation respecting the
wisdom of its regulations? Or must our debates be occupied with provisions
of temporary convenience; and are we forbid to ask whether there may not
be something fundamentally wrong in the principles of the structure? Reason
and good sense will not fail to augur ill of that system of things which
is too sacred to be looked into; and to suspect that there must be something
essentially weak in what thus shrinks from the eye of curiosity. Add to which
that, however we may doubt of the importance of religious disputes, nothing
can less reasonably be exposed to question than that the happiness of mankind
is essentially connected with the improvement of political science.
That indeed, in the present situation of human affairs, is sufficiently
evident, which was formerly endeavoured to be controverted, that the opinions
of men are calculated essentially to affect their social condition. We can
no longer, with any plausibility, lay claim to toleration, upon pretence
of the innocence of error. It would not, at this time, be mere indifference,
it would be infatuation, in our rulers, to say, We will leave the busily
idle votaries of speculation to manage their controversies for themselves,
secure that their disputes are, in no degree, of concern to the welfare of
mankind.
Opinion is the most potent engine that can be brought within the sphere
of political society. False opinion, superstition and prejudice, have hitherto
been the true supporters of usurpation and despotism. Enquiry, and the improvement
of the human mind, are now shaking to the Centre those bulwarks that have
so long held mankind in thraldom. This is the genuine state of the case:
how ought our governors, and the friends of public tranquillity, to conduct
themselves in this momentous crisis?
We no longer claim toleration, as was formerly occasionally done, from
the unimportance of opinion; we claim it because a contrary system will be
found pregnant with the most fatal disasters, because toleration only can
give a mild and auspicious character to the changes that are impending.
It has lately become a topic of discussion with political enquirers whether
it be practicable forcibly to effect the suppression of novel opinions. Instances
have been cited in which this seems to have been performed. A cool and deliberate
calculation has been made, as to the number of legal or illegal murders that
must be committed, the quantity of misery that must be inflicted, the extent
and duration of the wars that must be carried on, according to the circumstances
of the case, to accomplish this purpose.
In answer to this sort of reasoning, it may be observed, first, that,
if there are instances where a spreading opinion seems to have been extirpated
by violence, the instances are much more numerous where this expedient has
been employed in vain. It should appear that an opinion must be in a particular
degree of reception, and not have exceeded it, in order to give to this engine
a chance of effecting its purpose. Above all, it is necessary that the violence
by which a set of opinions is to be suppressed should be unintermitted and
invariable. If it should happen, as often has happened in similar cases,
that the partisans of the new opinion should alternately gain the ascendancy
over their oppressors, we shall then have only an alternate succession of
irritation and persecution. If there be the least intermission of the violence,
it is to be expected that the persecuted party will recover their courage,
and the whole business will be to be begun over again. However seriously
anyone may be bent upon the suppression of opinions, it would be absurd for
him to build upon the supposition that the powers of government will never
be transferred to other hands, and that the measures now adopted will be
equably pursued to a distant termination.
Secondly, we must surely be induced on strong grounds to form a terrible
idea of the consequences to result from the ascendancy of new opinions, before
we can bring ourselves to assent to such severe methods for their suppression.
Inexpressible must be the enormities committed by us, before we can expect
to succeed in such an undertaking. To persecute men for their opinions is,
of all the denominations of violence, that to which an ingenuous mind can
with the greatest difficulty be reconciled. The persons, in this case, most
obnoxious to our hostility are the upright and conscientious. They are of
all men the most true to their opinions, and the least reluctant to evils
in which those opinions may involve counter the evils in which those opinions
may involve them. It may be they are averse to every species of disorder,
pacific, benevolent, and peculiarly under the guidance of public spirit and
public affections. A gallant spirit would teach us to encounter opinion with
opinion, and argument with argument. It is a painful species of cowardice
to which we have recourse, whatever be our motive, when we determine to overbear
an opponent by violence, whom e cannot convince. The tendency of persecution
is to generate the most odious vices: in one part of the community, those
malevolent passions which teach us to regard our brethren as prodigies and
monsters, and that treacherous and vindictive spirit which is ever lying
in wait to destroy: the other part of the community, terror, hatred, hypocrisy
and falsehood. Supposing us ultimately to succeed in our object, what sort
of a people will be the survivors of this infernal purification?
Thirdly, opinion, though formidable in its tendencies, is perhaps never
calamitous in its operation but so far as it is encountered with injustice
and violence. In countries where religious toleration has been established,
opposite sectaries have been found to pursue their disputes in tranquillity.
It is only where measures of severity are adopted that animosity is engendered.
The mere prospect of melioration may inspire a sedate and consistent ardour;
but oppression and suffering are necessary to render men bitter, impatient
and sanguinary. If we persecute the advocates of improvement, and fail of
our object, we may fear a terrible retribution; but, if we leave the contest
to its genuine course, and only apply ourselves to prevent mutual exasperation,
the issue perhaps, whichever way it is determined, will be beneficent and
auspicious.
[[1]]
The reader will consider this as the language of the objectors. The
most eminent of the Greek philosophers were, in reality, distinguished from
all the other teachers by the fortitude with Which they conformed to the
precepts they taught.
[[2]]
See above, Chap. I.
[[4]]
Book V, Chap. XXIII.