The question of property is so mixed up with that of authority that in treating of the former in its special chapter we could not do otherwise than treat of the origin and evolution of the latter. We shall not therefore return to these, but shall concern ourselves only with the present period, with the authority which is claimed to be based upon universal suffrage, the law of the majority. As we have seen, the divine origin of property and authority being sapped, the bourgeoisie has had to seek a new and more solid basis for them. Having themselves destroyed the basis of divine right, and helped to combat that of the right of force, they sought to substitute therefore that of money, by causing the chambers to be elected under the quit-rent regime, that is to say by a certain category of individuals who paid the highest taxes. Later there was some question of including “qualifications;” this came from the excluded fraction of the bourgeoisie. But all that could be of no long duration. From the moment that authority was put under discussion it lost its strength, and those who had hitherto taken no part in the choice of their masters, were not slow to demand the right to give their opinion upon this choice. The bourgeoisie, who feared the people, did not want to make any concession; they had the power, they wanted to keep it. In order to obtain universal suffrage the workers had to revolt. The bourgeois members whom they carried into power were eager to trick them out of this newly-acquired right, to cut the claws of the monster which they thought would devour them. It was only in the long run, through seeing it in operation, that they came to understand that it was not dangerous to their privileges, that it was but a fiddle upon which one must know how to play, and that this famous weapon for enforcing demands, which the workers believed themselves to have acquired, (they had paid for it with their blood) was but a perfected instrument of authority, which enslaved those who made use of it at the very moment they expected to emancipate themselves.

Indeed what is universal suffrage if not the right of the governed to choose their master, the right of choosing the rod to be whipped with? The voter is sovereign⁠—so far as to be able to choose his master! But he has not the right to dispense with him; for the one that his neighbor will have chosen will be his. From the moment he deposits his ballot in the box he has signed his abdication; he has no more to do but bend to the caprices of the masters of his choice; they will make the laws, will apply them to him, and throw him into prison if he resist.

We do not wish to institute a trial of universal suffrage at this point, nor to examine all the correctives, all the improvements that different people have wished to bring to bear upon it, to obviate the caprices of the elected and secure the sovereignty of the voter by giving him the means of forcing the former to keep his promises. It would lead us too far, and is, besides, of no importance to us, since we wish to prove that there ought not to be a majority-law any more than a divine right, and that the individual ought not to be subjected to any other rule than that of his own will. And, moreover, in analyzing the operation of universal suffrage we shall come to the proof that it is not even the majority that governs, but a very small minority, issuing from a second minority, which is itself but a minority chosen from among the governed masses. That women and children, who submit equally to the laws, should be excluded from the right of sharing in the vote, is purely arbitrary. If we deduct further those who for one reason or another do not make use of this “right,” we find ourselves in the presence of a first minority, recognized most arbitrarily as the only ones fit to choose masters for all. In the second place, it is theoretically the majority which on election day decides who is elected out of this original circumscription; but practically the choice of the voters is divided among six, eight, ten, and often more candidates, not counting those who, not finding their opinions represented among the crowd of candidates, vote contrary to their ideas. The successful candidate is, therefore, once more but the product of a second minority. In the third place, those elected being once assembled, it is again the majority which, theoretically always, is supposed to decide among them; but here again opinions being divided into groups and subgroups innumerable, it follows in practice that small cliques of ambitious persons, standing between the extreme parties, decide the vote by lending their voices to those that offer them the most for it. From the little just said it is apparent that the pretended sovereignty of the voter comes down to a very small affair; but it must be observed that in order not to befog the reader we have simplified our criticism, and supposed that every voter acted logically and conscientiously. But if we include in the account all the intrigues, jobbing, ambitious calculations; if we take note that before being ratified the laws must come before another assembly, the senate, which in turn is elected by another category of voters; if we take into account that the legislative power is composed of five hundred and some odd deputies, and that each voter casts his ballot for only one, and that consequently his will goes for less than one five-hundredth of the general will, still further reduced by the veto of the senate, we shall end by perceiving that individual sovereignty enters in so infinitesimal a quantity into the national sovereignty that at last we do not find it at all.

Yet all this is still of minor importance. Universal suffrage has a still more disastrous effect, viz.: that it gives birth to the reign of nonentities and mediocrities, as we shall prove. Every new idea in advance of its epoch is, by the very fact of such advance, always in the minority at the start. Very few and far between are the minds open enough to adopt and defend it. This is an acknowledged truth, and the conclusion is that people with truly broad and intelligent ideas are always in the minority. The bulk of the masses professes average current ideas; it is they who compose the majority; it is they who will choose the representative, who, in order to be elected, will take good care not to offend the prejudices of his constituents or to shock received opinions. On the contrary, in order to succeed in collecting as many people as possible under his banner, he must round off his sharp corners and select a stock of commonplaces to get off before those whose suffrages he covets. That he may not frighten them, he must outdo them in stupidity. The more flat, mediocre, and insipid he is, the more chance he has of being elected.

If the workings of all manner of groups be thoroughly examined⁠—committees, representative congresses, associations for mutual help, societies of artists, litterateurs, etc.⁠—you will always see the offices in these hierarchic organizations, elected by universal suffrage, held by persons who, setting aside their ambitious desire of showing themselves off, getting themselves talked about, or creating a situation at the expense of their colleagues, and a certain capacity for intrigue, are the most mediocre of the lot. For no original mind that occupies itself solely with the realization of its ideal, can do otherwise than clash with all those⁠—and they are legion⁠—who follow the laws of holy routine. Everybody cries out, “Look at the jackass!” He who seeks the truth and would make it prevail, has no time to stoop to the shabby wire-pulling behind the scenes. He will surely be beaten in the electoral lists by him who, having no original ideas, accepting those received by the greater number, will have less trouble in insinuating his projecting angles (which he has not) in a manner to offend no one. The more one wishes to please people the more the average line of ideas adopted must be disembarrassed of new and original conceptions, and consequently the aforesaid line will be found trite, tame, and mediocre. This is all there is of universal suffrage⁠—a sonorous ass’s skin, giving out nothing but noise under the blows of those who wish to make it speak!

But though authority is discussed, jeered at, lashed, it is, unfortunately, far from having disappeared from our customs. People are so used to being led by a string that they would imagine themselves lost the moment there was no longer anybody to keep them tied. They are so accustomed to seeing the gendarme’s cap, the belted paunch of the mayor, the meddling and official insolence of the bureaucracy, the sorry-looking countenances of judge and policeman, appear in their lives at every turn, that they have reached the point of becoming accustomed to these filthy promiscuities, considering them as things which are certainly disagreeable, on which, when occasion offers, they never miss playing a dirty trick with satisfaction, but which they cannot imagine disappearing without humanity’s being dislocated at once! Strange contradiction of the human mind! Men submit to this authority with reluctance, they scoff at it, violate it when they can, and believe themselves lost when anyone talks of doing away with it. A matter of habit, it seems!

But this prejudice is so much the more illogical, if we may use the term, so much the more stupid, when the ideal of each individual in regard to “good” government, is to have one which he would have the chance to cashier the moment it tried to prevent him from acting as he pleased. It was to flatter this ideal that the bourgeoisie invented universal suffrage.

If the republic has enjoyed so much credit among the workers; if, after so many deceptions, universal suffrage is still considered by the governed as a means of enfranchisement, it is because they have been made to believe that by changing the men in power they could change the system of exploitation which oppresses us into a system from which welfare and felicity for all would result. Profound error, which allows the intriguing to lead the workers astray, in pursuit of illusory reforms, incapable of bringing about any change in their situation, and accustoming them to expect everything from a change of personnel in this machine for oppression called the State;⁠—an error which, in every revolution, has permitted schemers to juggle away popular victories, to install themselves in the sinecures of those who have been swept away by the revolutionary tempest, and to form a new caste of exploiters by creating around them new interests, which, once established, have succeeded in imposing their authority, reducing to silence those who had had the naivete to carry them to the pinnacle of power!

What an abyss of contradictions is the human mind! If one discusses with individuals even slightly intelligent, they will readily agree that if all men were reasonable there would be no need of government. They themselves could get along easily without it. But unfortunately all men are not reasonable; some would abuse their strength to oppress others, to live at others’ expense and do nothing. To guard against these inconveniences some authority is necessary “to keep them straight.” Which in concrete terms comes back to saying that, taken in a lump, people are too bad to come to an understanding among themselves, but that, taken individually or in fractions, they know how to govern others, and that we must make haste to put the power into their hands, in order that they may enforce their will upon all. O unhappy logic! How human reasoning doth trip thee up!

So long as there are persons to give commands, will they not necessarily be in antagonism with those they command? Will not those in power, if they be sincere, have ideas of their own to further? And these ideas, though they may be good, may also be very bad. Drowned in the mass, they will remain without power; with authority in the hands of those who profess them, they will be thrust upon those who reject them. And the more sincere the individuals in power the more pitiless would they be against those who should revolt against their way of seeing things, being convinced that they were working for the good of humanity.

In the preceding chapter we saw that our political slavery is determined by our economic situation. We have soldiers, judges, ministers, etc., because we have bankers and proprietors; the one entails the other. If we succeed in overthrowing those who exploit us in the workshop, if we succeed in ridding ourselves of those who have got us by the entrails, there will no longer be any need of the force which protects them; it will have no more reason for existence. In fact there is a necessity for government, for laws, for deputies to make these laws and a magistracy to apply them, for a police-force to maintain the decisions of the magistracy, because those who possess need some force to defend what they have seized against the claims of those they have dispossessed.

But the worker⁠—what has he to defend? What matters to him all this governmental paraphernalia, the expense for whose maintenance he alone bears, without deriving any profit therefrom, and which is there solely to teach him that he has no rights save that of starving in the midst of the abundance he has created? In the somber days of revolt, when misery grown more intense urges the workers into the street en masse, it is again these “social” institutions which stand before them and bar their route to the future. We must, therefore, destroy them, and take good care to reconstitute no new aristocracy, which could have but one purpose: to enjoy the most and the quickest at the expense of its protégés. What matters the choice of the hand that strikes you? It is not to be struck at all, that one should aim at! Let us not forget that whatever the name in which the new authority clothes itself, however benign it may seek to appear, whatever be the amendments it proposes, whatever be the mode of recruiting its personnel, we shall none the less have to encounter the following dilemma: Either its decisions will have the force of law and be obligatory upon all, in which case all our existing institutions will be needed to apply them and enforce respect for them⁠—hence renunciation of liberty⁠—or people will remain free to discuss governmental decisions, conform to them if they please, or send authority hunting a job if it annoys them⁠—in which case liberty remains intact, but the government is useless though remaining a fetter and a menace!

Conclusion: No government.