Tocqueville arrived in the United States in 1830 in his mid-20s. He stayed nine months and traveled widely to Boston, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Memphis, New Orleans, Washington and the then frontier areas of Michigan and Wisconsin. He talked to President Andrew Jackson, ex-president John Quincy Adams, Daniel Webster and many others. Tocqueville aimed to see what might await France, which, despite its revolution, remained bitterly divided over democracy’s value. “I wanted to… know at least what we ought to hope or fear from [democracy],” he writes.
What he discovered was that America’s democracy was not just government and politics. It was a set of beliefs, values and practices about what people should expect from life. Consider his opening lines:
“Among the new objects that attracted my attention during my stay in the United States, none struck my eye more vividly than the equality of conditions. I discovered without difficulty the enormous influence that this primary fact exerts on the course of society; it gives a certain direction to public spirit, a certain turn to the laws… it creates opinions… and modifies everything…”
In “Democracy in America”–published in two volumes, in 1835 and 1840–Tocqueville showed how this new American sensibility permeated society, from politics to poetry. What he meant by “equality of conditions” was closer to our “equality of opportunity” than to “equality of results.” It was, he writes, “the right to indulge in the same pleasures, to enter the same professions… to live in the same manner and pursue wealth by the same means…”
Here was America’s novelty–the assumption that no one was automatically superior to anyone else. This separated America from the Old World, with its aristocratic heritage. Property was mainly inherited, not acquired. Social and economic standing flowed heavily from birth, not talent or labor. People knew their place. “Tocqueville always understands democracy in contrast to aristocracy,” write Mansfield and Winthrop. The two were “opposed ways of life.”
The American sensibility altered family relations. Even then, women’s roles–compared with those in Europe–expanded. Art tended toward “the quickest or the cheapest,” because no longer were there only a few wealthy patrons as buyers. Above all, Americans were ambitious and acquisitive. Tocqueville recognized how the appetite for equality bred materialism, which, far from satisfying people, made them more anxious:
“It is a strange thing to see with what sort of feverish ardor Americans pursue well- being and how they show themselves constantly tormented by a vague fear of not having chosen the shortest route that can lead to it… In addition to the goods that [the American] possesses… he imagines a thousand others that death will prevent him from enjoying if he does not hasten.”
What’s astonishing is that Tocqueville extracted these conclusions from a country that seems so far removed from our own. In 1830 the United States had slightly less than 13 million people. There were only 24 states (the last, Missouri, had been admitted in 1821) and almost no railroads (the first three-mile line was built in 1826). Tocqueville’s insights confirm his brilliance and remind us that many features of national character are virtually indestructible.
Though admiring of America, Tocqueville was hardly uncritical. Democratic values, he thought, often encouraged conformity. He scathingly described the treatment of Native Americans and felt that slavery might lead to a race war. As for politics, he noted that elections inspired “intrigues” and “agitation.” He may have understated the case. In a recent book, historian Joyce Appleby of UCLA shows that early-19th-century politics could be incredibly bitter.† The split between Federalists (the party of John Adams) and Republicans (the party of Thomas Jefferson) was poisonous. Duels remained a way of settling scores. Writes Appleby: “Andrew Jackson… slew a young political opponent in cold blood. The man, having grazed Jackson in a first shot, had to stand at the mark while Jackson recocked his gun.” (Now, that’s the politics of personal destruction.)
But the defects of politics weren’t crippling, because American democracy didn’t depend exclusively on politics and government for its vitality. There were other outlets for democratic energies. Commerce had huge appeal. Civic associations of various sorts abounded. Religion–again, in many varieties–flourished. The country’s sheer size offered ample opportunities. This was one of Tocqueville’s central messages: democracy could succeed in America because its passions could be absorbed in many different ways. Politics and government were important, but they weren’t the only things that were important. Disappointments and disagreements might not be fatal because people could pursue their ambitions and practice their values in many realms.
There was a big caveat, however. Tocqueville worried that the obsession with individuality might become self-defeating selfishness. If people thought only of themselves and their families, they might be so disengaged that they became vulnerable to the “despotism” even of a democratic government. Like many of Tocqueville’s insights, this one remains relevant.
