emanate from the periodical choice of the ruled, some persons began to
think that too much importance had been attached to the limitation
of the power itself. That (it might seem) was a resource against
rulers whose interests were habitually opposed to those of the people.
What was now wanted was, that the rulers should be identified with the
people; that their interest and will should be the interest and will
of the nation. The nation did not need to be protected against its own
will. There was no fear of its tyrannising over itself. Let the rulers
be effectually responsible to it, promptly removable by it, and it
could afford to trust them with power of which it could itself dictate
the use to be made. Their power was but the nation's own power,
concentrated, and in a form convenient for exercise. This mode of
thought, or rather perhaps of feeling, was common among the last
generation of European liberalism, in the Continental section of which
it still apparently predominates. Those who admit any limit to what
a government may do, except in the case of such governments as they
think ought not to exist, stand out as brilliant exceptions among
the political thinkers of the Continent. A similar tone of sentiment
might by this time have been prevalent in our own country, if the
circumstances which for a time encouraged it, had continued unaltered.

  But, in political and philosophical theories, as well as in persons,
success discloses faults and infirmities which failure might have
concealed from observation. The notion, that the people have no need
to limit their power over themselves, might seem axiomatic, when
popular government was a thing only dreamed about, or read of as
having existed at some distant period of the past. Neither was that
notion necessarily disturbed by such temporary aberrations as those of
the French Revolution, the worst of which were the work of a
usurping few, and which, in any case, belonged, not to the permanent
working of popular institutions, but to a sudden and convulsive
outbreak against monarchical and aristocratic despotism. In time,
however, a democratic republic came to occupy a large portion of the
earth's surface, and made itself felt as one of the most powerful
members of the community of nations; and elective and responsible
government became subject to the observations and criticisms which
wait upon a great existing fact. It was now perceived that such
phrases as "self-government," and "the power of the people over
themselves," do not express the true state of the case. The "people"
who exercise the power are not always the same people with those
over whom it is exercised; and the "self-government" spoken of is
not the government of each by himself, but of each by all the rest.
The will of the people, moreover, practically means the will of the
most numerous or the most active part of the people; the majority,
or those who succeed in making themselves accepted as the majority;
the people, consequently may desire to oppress a part of their number;
and precautions are as much needed against this as against any other
abuse of power. The limitation, therefore, of the power of
government over individuals loses none of its importance when the
holders of power are regularly accountable to the community, that
is, to the strongest party therein. This view of things,
recommending itself equally to the intelligence of thinkers and to the
inclination of those important classes in European society to whose
real or supposed interests democracy is adverse, has had no difficulty
in establishing itself; and in political speculations "the tyranny
of the majority" is now generally included among the evils against
which society requires to be on its guard.

  Like other tyrannies, the tyranny of the majority was at first,
and is still vulgarly, held in dread, chiefly as operating through the
acts of the public authorities. But reflecting persons perceived
that when society is itself the tyrant- society collectively over the
separate individuals who compose it- its means of tyrannising are not
restricted to the acts which it may do by the hands of its political
functionaries. Society can and does execute its own mandates: and if
it issues wrong mandates instead of right, or any mandates at all in
things with which it ought not to meddle, it practises a social
tyranny more formidable than many kinds of political oppression,
since, though not usually upheld by such extreme penalties, it
leaves fewer means of escape, penetrating much more deeply into the
details of life, and enslaving the soul itself. Protection, therefore,
against the tyranny of the magistrate is not enough: there needs
protection also against the tyranny of the prevailing opinion and
feeling; against the tendency of society to impose, by other means
than civil penalties, its own ideas and practices as rules of
conduct on those who dissent from them; to fetter the development,
and, if possible, prevent the formation, of any individuality not in
harmony with its ways, and compels all characters to fashion
themselves upon the model of its own. There is a limit to the
legitimate interference of collective opinion with individual
independence: and to find that limit, and maintain it against
encroachment, is as indispensable to a good condition of human
affairs, as protection against political despotism.

  But though this proposition is not likely to be contested in general
terms, the practical question, where to place the limit- how to make
the fitting adjustment between individual independence and social
control- is a subject on which nearly everything remains to be done.
All that makes existence valuable to any one, depends on the
enforcement of restraints upon the actions of other people. Some rules
of conduct, therefore, must be imposed, by law in the first place, and
by opinion on many things which are not fit subjects for the operation
of law. What these rules should be is the principal question in
human affairs; but if we except a few of the most obvious cases, it is
one of those which least progress has been made in resolving. No two
ages, and scarcely any two countries, have decided it alike; and the
decision of one age or country is a wonder to another. Yet the
people of any given age and country no more suspect any difficulty
in it, than if it were a subject on which mankind had always been
agreed. The rules which obtain among themselves appear to them