13.16: Design and Costs
- Describe how a store can use design to control costs
If a store layout can drive sales, it can also help you control your costs. Let’s take a look at a couple of examples.
Angular Layout
An angular layout can help you control inventory costs. As we mentioned above, angular layouts allow for the display of a minimal amount of merchandise and is particularly good for high end clothing and jewelry. While the fixtures to display the merchandise are likely going to be more expensive, this also means that you have to have less merchandise on hand. When you sell diamonds or fur coats, this is a plus. As a retailer, you don’t want all your cash flow tied up in the merchandise on you floor, particularly when the price point doesn’t allow it to move as quickly.
Diagonal Layout
We mentioned that the diagonal store layout allowed for a maximum amount of merchandise to be displayed for the customer but it also improves the customer’s line-of-sight, allowing him to see much more when he enters the store. The same holds true for the cashier, who, when placed at one end of the store, can see more merchandise and customer activity. This allows for easier monitoring of shoplifting and theft. Shrink (the term retailers use for lost, stolen, or damaged product) is a significant concern for a retailer.
Grid Layout
Grid layouts allow for maximized promotions. You’d think that a retailer can decide if he or she is going to offer a product at a certain percentage off, but that’s not always the case. Manufacturers frequently “sponsor” promotions with additional cash to help move their product. They pay for premium “real estate” within a store in order to prominently display their products. This saves the retailer the cost of putting the item on sale himself.
The grid layout allows for predictable focus points, allowing you to display promotions in spots where you know they’ll be seen. This allows the retailer to maximize profits and make use of that money manufacturers offer to minimize their margin losses.
The racetrack layout is also an excellent format for maximizing promotions.
Contributors and Attributions
- Design and Costs. Authored by : Freedom Learning Group. Provided by : Lumen Learning. License : CC BY: Attribution
- Store Layout Diagrams. Provided by : Lumen Learning. License : CC BY: Attribution


8.2: Biological Macromolecules
Food provides the body with the nutrients it needs to survive. Many of these critical nutrients are biological macromolecules, or large molecules, necessary for life. These macromolecules (polymers) are built from different combinations of smaller organic molecules (monomers). What specific types of biological macromolecules do living things require? How are these molecules formed? What functions do they serve? In this chapter, these questions will be explored.
-
- 8.2.1: Prelude to Biological Macromolecules
- Food provides the body with the nutrients it needs to survive. Many of these critical nutrients are biological macromolecules, or large molecules, necessary for life. These macromolecules (polymers) are built from different combinations of smaller organic molecules (monomers). What specific types of biological macromolecules do living things require? How are these molecules formed? What functions do they serve? In this chapter, these questions will be explored.
-
- 8.2.2: Synthesis of Biological Macromolecules
- Biological macromolecules are large molecules, necessary for life, that are built from smaller organic molecules. There are four major classes of biological macromolecules (carbohydrates, lipids, proteins, and nucleic acids); each is an important cell component and performs a wide array of functions. Combined, these molecules make up the majority of a cell’s dry mass (recall that water makes up the majority of its complete mass).
-
- 8.2.3: Carbohydrates
- Carbohydrates are, in fact, an essential part of our diet; grains, fruits, and vegetables are all natural sources of carbohydrates. Carbohydrates provide energy to the body, particularly through glucose, a simple sugar that is a component of starch and an ingredient in many staple foods. Carbohydrates also have other important functions in humans, animals, and plants.
-
- 8.2.4: Lipids
- Lipids include a diverse group of compounds that are largely nonpolar in nature. This is because they are hydrocarbons that include mostly nonpolar carbon–carbon or carbon–hydrogen bonds. Non-polar molecules are hydrophobic (“water fearing”), or insoluble in water. Lipids perform many different functions in a cell. Cells store energy for long-term use in the form of fats. Lipids also provide insulation from the environment for plants and animals.
-
- 8.2.5: Proteins
- Proteins are one of the most abundant organic molecules in living systems and have the most diverse range of functions of all macromolecules. Proteins may be structural, regulatory, contractile, or protective; they may serve in transport, storage, or membranes; or they may be toxins or enzymes. Each cell in a living system may contain thousands of proteins, each with a unique function. Their structures, like their functions, vary greatly.
Thumbnail: 1K6F_Crystal Structure Of The Collagen Triple Helix Model Pro- Pro-Gly103. (CC-SA-BY-3.0; Nevit Dilmen)


18.1: Scripts
-
- Last updated
- Save as PDF
Computer programs come in quite a few different forms: the kind of program that we’re mostly interested in from the perspective of everyday data analysis using R is known as a
script
. The idea behind a script is that, instead of typing your commands into the R console one at a time, instead you write them all in a text file. Then, once you’ve finished writing them and saved the text file, you can get R to execute all the commands in your file by using the
source()
function. In a moment I’ll show you exactly how this is done, but first I’d better explain why you should care.
scripts?
Before discussing scripting and programming concepts in any more detail, it’s worth stopping to ask why you should bother. After all, if you look at the R commands that I’ve used everywhere else this book, you’ll notice that they’re all formatted as if I were typing them at the command line. Outside this chapter you won’t actually see any scripts. Do not be fooled by this. The reason that I’ve done it that way is purely for pedagogical reasons. My goal in this book is to teach statistics and to teach R. To that end, what I’ve needed to do is chop everything up into tiny little slices: each section tends to focus on one kind of statistical concept, and only a smallish number of R functions. As much as possible, I want you to see what each function does in isolation, one command at a time. By forcing myself to write everything as if it were being typed at the command line, it imposes a kind of discipline on me: it prevents me from piecing together lots of commands into one big script. From a teaching (and learning) perspective I think that’s the right thing to do… but from a data analysis perspective, it is not. When you start analysing real world data sets, you will rapidly find yourself needing to write scripts.
To understand why scripts are so very useful, it may be helpful to consider the drawbacks to typing commands directly at the command prompt. The approach that we’ve been adopting so far, in which you type commands one at a time, and R sits there patiently in between commands, is referred to as the interactive style. Doing your data analysis this way is rather like having a conversation … a very annoying conversation between you and your data set, in which you and the data aren’t directly speaking to each other, and so you have to rely on R to pass messages back and forth. This approach makes a lot of sense when you’re just trying out a few ideas: maybe you’re trying to figure out what analyses are sensible for your data, or maybe just you’re trying to remember how the various R functions work, so you’re just typing in a few commands until you get the one you want. In other words, the interactive style is very useful as a tool for exploring your data. However, it has a number of drawbacks:
- It’s hard to save your work effectively . You can save the workspace, so that later on you can load any variables you created. You can save your plots as images. And you can even save the history or copy the contents of the R console to a file. Taken together, all these things let you create a reasonably decent record of what you did. But it does leave a lot to be desired. It seems like you ought to be able to save a single file that R could use (in conjunction with your raw data files) and reproduce everything (or at least, everything interesting) that you did during your data analysis.
- It’s annoying to have to go back to the beginning when you make a mistake. Suppose you’ve just spent the last two hours typing in commands. Over the course of this time you’ve created lots of new variables and run lots of analyses. Then suddenly you realise that there was a nasty typo in the first command you typed, so all of your later numbers are wrong. Now you have to fix that first command, and then spend another hour or so combing through the R history to try and recreate what you did.
- You can’t leave notes for yourself . Sure, you can scribble down some notes on a piece of paper, or even save a Word document that summarises what you did. But what you really want to be able to do is write down an English translation of your R commands, preferably right “next to” the commands themselves. That way, you can look back at what you’ve done and actually remember what you were doing. In the simple exercises we’ve engaged in so far, it hasn’t been all that hard to remember what you were doing or why you were doing it, but only because everything we’ve done could be done using only a few commands, and you’ve never been asked to reproduce your analysis six months after you originally did it! When your data analysis starts involving hundreds of variables, and requires quite complicated commands to work, then you really, really need to leave yourself some notes to explain your analysis to, well, yourself.
- It’s nearly impossible to reuse your analyses later, or adapt them to similar problems . Suppose that, sometime in January, you are handed a difficult data analysis problem. After working on it for ages, you figure out some really clever tricks that can be used to solve it. Then, in September, you get handed a really similar problem. You can sort of remember what you did, but not very well. You’d like to have a clean record of what you did last time, how you did it, and why you did it the way you did. Something like that would really help you solve this new problem.
- It’s hard to do anything except the basics. There’s a nasty side effect of these problems. Typos are inevitable. Even the best data analyst in the world makes a lot of mistakes. So the chance that you’ll be able to string together dozens of correct R commands in a row are very small. So unless you have some way around this problem, you’ll never really be able to do anything other than simple analyses.
- It’s difficult to share your work other people. Because you don’t have this nice clean record of what R commands were involved in your analysis, it’s not easy to share your work with other people. Sure, you can send them all the data files you’ve saved, and your history and console logs, and even the little notes you wrote to yourself, but odds are pretty good that no-one else will really understand what’s going on (trust me on this: I’ve been handed lots of random bits of output from people who’ve been analysing their data, and it makes very little sense unless you’ve got the original person who did the work sitting right next to you explaining what you’re looking at)
Ideally, what you’d like to be able to do is something like this… Suppose you start out with a data set
myrawdata.csv
. What you want is a single document – let’s call it
mydataanalysis.R
– that stores all of the commands that you’ve used in order to do your data analysis. Kind of similar to the R history but much more focused. It would only include the commands that you want to keep for later. Then, later on, instead of typing in all those commands again, you’d just tell R to run all of the commands that are stored in
mydataanalysis.R
. Also, in order to help you make sense of all those commands, what you’d want is the ability to add some notes or
comments
within the file, so that anyone reading the document for themselves would be able to understand what each of the commands actually does. But these comments wouldn’t get in the way: when you try to get R to run
mydataanalysis.R
it would be smart enough would recognise that these comments are for the benefit of humans, and so it would ignore them. Later on you could tweak a few of the commands inside the file (maybe in a new file called
mynewdatanalaysis.R
) so that you can adapt an old analysis to be able to handle a new problem. And you could email your friends and colleagues a copy of this file so that they can reproduce your analysis themselves.
In other words, what you want is a script .
first script
Okay then. Since scripts are so terribly awesome, let’s write one. To do this, open up a simple text editing program, like TextEdit (on a Mac) or Notebook (on Windows). Don’t use a fancy word processing program like Microsoft Word or OpenOffice: use the simplest program you can find. Open a new text document, and type some R commands, hitting enter after each command. Let’s try using
x <- "hello world"
and
print(x)
as our commands. Then save the document as
hello.R
, and remember to save it as a plain text file: don’t save it as a word document or a rich text file. Just a boring old plain text file. Also, when it asks you
where
to save the file, save it to whatever folder you’re using as your working directory in R. At this point, you should be looking at something like Figure 8.1. And if so, you have now successfully written your first R program. Because I don’t want to take screenshots for every single script, I’m going to present scripts using extracts formatted as follows:
## --- hello.R
x <- "hello world"
print(x)
The line at the top is the filename, and not part of the script itself. Below that, you can see the two R commands that make up the script itself. Next to each command I’ve included the line numbers. You don’t actually type these into your script, but a lot of text editors (including the one built into Rstudio that I’ll show you in a moment) will show line numbers, since it’s a very useful convention that allows you to say things like “line 1 of the script creates a new variable, and line 2 prints it out”.
So how do we run the script? Assuming that the
hello.R
file has been saved to your working directory, then you can run the script using the following command:
source( "hello.R" )
If the script file is saved in a different directory, then you need to specify the path to the file, in exactly the same way that you would have to when loading a data file using
load()
. In any case, when you type this command, R opens up the script file: it then reads each command in the file in the same order that they appear in the file, and executes those commands in that order. The simple script that I’ve shown above contains two commands. The first one creates a variable
x
and the second one prints it on screen. So, when we run the script, this is what we see on screen:
source("./rbook-master/scripts/hello.R")
## [1] "hello world"
If we inspect the workspace using a command like
who()
or
objects()
, we discover that R has created the new variable
x
within the workspace, and not surprisingly
x
is a character string containing the text
"hello world"
. And just like that, you’ve written your first program R. It really is that simple.
Using Rstudio to write scripts
In the example above I assumed that you were writing your scripts using a simple text editor. However, it’s usually more convenient to use a text editor that is specifically designed to help you write scripts. There’s a lot of these out there, and experienced programmers will all have their own personal favourites. For our purposes, however, we can just use the one built into Rstudio. To create new script file in R studio, go to the “File” menu, select the “New” option, and then click on “R script”. This will open a new window within the “source” panel. Then you can type the commands you want (or
code
as it is generally called when you’re typing the commands into a script file) and save it when you’re done. The nice thing about using Rstudio to do this is that it automatically changes the colour of the text to indicate which parts of the code are comments and which are parts are actual R commands (these colours are called
syntax highlighting
, but they’re not actually part of the file – it’s just Rstudio trying to be helpful. To see an example of this, let’s open up our
hello.R
script in Rstudio. To do this, go to the “File” menu again, and select “Open…”. Once you’ve opened the file, you should be looking at something like Figure 8.2. As you can see (if you’re looking at this book in colour) the character string “hello world” is highlighted in green.
Using Rstudio for your text editor is convenient for other reasons too. Notice in the top right hand corner of Figure 8.2 there’s a little button that reads “Source”? If you click on that, Rstudio will construct the relevant
source()
command for you, and send it straight to the R console. So you don’t even have to type in the
source()
command, which actually I think is a great thing, because it really bugs me having to type all those extra keystrokes every time I want to run my script. Anyway, Rstudio provide several other convenient little tools to help make scripting easier, but I won’t discuss them here.
134
Commenting your script
When writing up your data analysis as a script, one thing that is generally a good idea is to include a lot of comments in the code. That way, if someone else tries to read it (or if you come back to it several days, weeks, months or years later) they can figure out what’s going on. As a beginner, I think it’s especially useful to comment thoroughly, partly because it gets you into the habit of commenting the code, and partly because the simple act of typing in an explanation of what the code does will help you keep it clear in your own mind what you’re trying to achieve. To illustrate this idea, consider the following script:
## --- itngscript.R
# A script to analyse nightgarden.Rdata_
# author: Dan Navarro_
# date: 22/11/2011_
# Load the data, and tell the user that this is what we're
# doing.
cat( "loading data from nightgarden.Rdata...\n" )
load( "./rbook-master/data/nightgarden.Rdata" )
# Create a cross tabulation and print it out:
cat( "tabulating data...\n" )
itng.table <- table( speaker, utterance )
print( itng.table )
You’ll notice that I’ve gone a bit overboard with my commenting: at the top of the script I’ve explained the purpose of the script, who wrote it, and when it was written. Then, throughout the script file itself I’ve added a lot of comments explaining what each section of the code actually does. In real life people don’t tend to comment this thoroughly, but the basic idea is a very good one: you really do want your script to explain itself. Nevertheless, as you’d expect R completely ignores all of the commented parts. When we run this script, this is what we see on screen:
## --- itngscript.R
# A script to analyse nightgarden.Rdata
# author: Dan Navarro
# date: 22/11/2011
# Load the data, and tell the user that this is what we're
# doing.
cat( "loading data from nightgarden.Rdata...\n" )
## loading data from nightgarden.Rdata...
load( "./rbook-master/data/nightgarden.Rdata" )
# Create a cross tabulation and print it out:
cat( "tabulating data...\n" )
## tabulating data...
itng.table <- table( speaker, utterance )
print( itng.table )
## utterance
## speaker ee onk oo pip
## makka-pakka 0 2 0 2
## tombliboo 1 0 1 0
## upsy-daisy 0 2 0 2
Even here, notice that the script announces its behaviour. The first two lines of the output tell us a lot about what the script is actually doing behind the scenes (the code do to this corresponds to the two
cat()
commands on lines 8 and 12 of the script). It’s usually a pretty good idea to do this, since it helps ensure that the output makes sense when the script is executed.
Differences between scripts and the command line
For the most part, commands that you insert into a script behave in exactly the same way as they would if you typed the same thing in at the command line. The one major exception to this is that if you want a variable to be printed on screen, you need to explicitly tell R to print it. You can’t just type the name of the variable. For example, our original
hello.R
script produced visible output. The following script does not:
## --- silenthello.R
x <- "hello world"
x
It
does
still create the variable
x
when you
source()
the script, but it won’t print anything on screen.
However, apart from the fact that scripts don’t use “auto-printing” as it’s called, there aren’t a lot of differences in the underlying mechanics. There are a few stylistic differences though. For instance, if you want to load a package at the command line, you would generally use the
library()
function. If you want do to it from a script, it’s conventional to use
require()
instead. The two commands are basically identical, the only difference being that if the package doesn’t exist,
require()
produces a warning whereas
library()
gives you an error. Stylistically, what this means is that if the
require()
command fails in your script, R will boldly continue on and try to execute the rest of the script. Often that’s what you’d like to see happen, so it’s better to use
require()
. Clearly, however, you can get by just fine using the
library()
command for everyday usage.
Done!
At this point, you’ve learned the basics of scripting. You are now officially allowed to say that you can program in R, though you probably shouldn’t say it too loudly. There’s a lot more to learn, but nevertheless, if you can write scripts like these then what you are doing is in fact basic programming. The rest of this chapter is devoted to introducing some of the key commands that you need in order to make your programs more powerful; and to help you get used to thinking in terms of scripts, for the rest of this chapter I’ll write up most of my extracts as scripts.


44.4: Box Plots
Lesson
Let's explore how box plots can help us summarize distributions.
Exercise \(\PageIndex{1}\): Notice and Wonder: Puppy Weights
Here are the birth weights, in ounces, of all the puppies born at a kennel in the past month.
\(13\qquad 14\qquad 15\qquad 15\qquad 16\qquad 16\qquad 16\qquad 16\qquad 17\qquad 17\qquad 17\qquad 17\qquad 17\qquad 17\qquad 17\qquad 18\qquad 18\qquad 18\qquad 18\qquad 18\qquad 18\qquad 18\qquad 18\qquad 19\qquad 20\)
What do you notice and wonder about the distribution of the puppy weights?
Exercise \(\PageIndex{2}\): Human Box Plot
Your teacher will give you the data on the lengths of names of students in your class. Write the five-number summary by finding the data set's minimum, Q1, Q2, Q3, and the maximum.
Pause for additional instructions from your teacher.
Exercise \(\PageIndex{3}\): Studying Blinks
Twenty people participated in a study about blinking. The number of times each person blinked while watching a video for one minute was recorded. The data values are shown here, in order from smallest to largest.
\(3\qquad 6\qquad 8\qquad 11\qquad 11\qquad 13\qquad 14\qquad 14\qquad 14\qquad 14\qquad 16\qquad 18\qquad 20\qquad 20\qquad 20\qquad 22\qquad 24\qquad 32\qquad 36\qquad 51\)
- Use the grid and axis to make a dot plot of this data set.
- Find the median (Q2) and mark its location on the dot plot.
- Find the first quartile (Q1) and the third quartile (Q3). Mark their locations on the dot plot.
- What are the minimum and maximum values?
- A box plot can be used to represent the five-number summary graphically. Let’s draw a box plot for the number-of-blinks data. On the grid, above the dot plot:
- Draw a box that extends from the first quartile (Q1) to the third quartile (Q3). Label the quartiles.
- At the median (Q2), draw a vertical line from the top of the box to the bottom of the box. Label the median.
- From the left side of the box (Q1), draw a horizontal line (a whisker) that extends to the minimum of the data set. On the right side of the box (Q3), draw a similar line that extends to the maximum of the data set.
- You have now created a box plot to represent the number of blinks data. What fraction of the data values are represented by each of these elements of the box plot?
- The left whisker
- The box
- The right whisker
Are you ready for more?
Suppose there were some errors in the data set: the smallest value should have been 6 instead of 3, and the largest value should have been 41 instead of 51. Determine if any part of the five-number summary would change. If you think so, describe how it would change. If not, explain how you know.
Summary
A box plot represents the five-number summary of a data set.
It shows the first quartile (Q1) and the third quartile (Q3) as the left and right sides of a rectangle or a box. The median (Q2) is shown as a vertical segment inside the box. On the left side, a horizontal line segment—a “whisker”—extends from Q1 to the minimum value. On the right, a whisker extends from Q3 to the maximum value.
The rectangle in the middle represents the middle half of the data. Its width is the IQR. The whiskers represent the bottom quarter and top quarter of the data set.
Earlier we saw dot plots representing the weights of pugs and beagles. The box plots for these data sets are shown above the corresponding dot plots.
We can tell from the box plots that, in general, the pugs in the group are lighter than the beagles: the median weight of pugs is 7 kilograms and the median weight of beagles is 10 kilograms. Because the two box plots are on the same scale and the rectangles have similar widths, we can also tell that the IQRs for the two breeds are very similar. This suggests that the variability in the beagle weights is very similar to the variability in the pug weights.
Glossary Entries
Definition: Box Plot
A box plot is a way to represent data on a number line. The data is divided into four sections. The sides of the box represent the first and third quartiles. A line inside the box represents the median. Lines outside the box connect to the minimum and maximum values.
For example, this box plot shows a data set with a minimum of 2 and a maximum of 15. The median is 6, the first quartile is 5, and the third quartile is 10.
Definition: Interquartile Range (IQR)
The interquartile range is one way to measure how spread out a data set is. We sometimes call this the IQR. To find the interquartile range we subtract the first quartile from the third quartile.
For example, the IQR of this data set is 20 because \(50-30=20\).
| \(22\) | \(29\) | \(30\) | \(31\) | \(32\) | \(43\) | \(44\) | \(45\) | \(50\) | \(50\) | \(59\) |
| Q1 | Q2 | Q3 |
Definition: Median
The median is one way to measure the center of a data set. It is the middle number when the data set is listed in order.
For the data set 7, 9, 12, 13, 14, the median is 12.
For the data set 3, 5, 6, 8, 11, 12, there are two numbers in the middle. The median is the average of these two numbers. \(6+8=14\) and \(14\div 2=7\).
Definition: Quartile
Quartiles are the numbers that divide a data set into four sections that each have the same number of values.
For example, in this data set the first quartile is 30. The second quartile is the same thing as the median, which is 43. The third quartile is 50.
| \(22\) | \(29\) | \(30\) | \(31\) | \(32\) | \(43\) | \(44\) | \(45\) | \(50\) | \(50\) | \(59\) |
| Q1 | Q2 | Q3 |
Definition: Range
The range is the distance between the smallest and largest values in a data set. For example, for the data set 3, 5, 6, 8, 11, 12, the range is 9, because \(12-3=9\).
Practice
Exercise \(\PageIndex{4}\)
Each student in a class recorded how many books they read during the summer. Here is a box plot that summarizes their data.
- What is the greatest number of books read by a student in this group?
- What is the median number of books read by the students?
- What is the interquartile range (IQR)?
Exercise \(\PageIndex{5}\)
Use this five-number summary to draw a box plot. All values are in seconds.
- Minimum: 40
- First quartile (Q1): 45
- Median: 48
- Third quartile (Q3): 50
- Maximum: 60
Exercise \(\PageIndex{6}\)
The data shows the number of hours per week that each of 13 seventh-grade students spent doing homework. Create a box plot to summarize the data.
\(3\qquad 10\qquad 12\qquad 4\qquad 7\qquad 9\qquad 5\qquad 5\qquad 11\qquad 11\qquad 5\qquad 12\qquad 11\)
Exercise \(\PageIndex{7}\)
The box plot displays the data on the response times of 100 mice to seeing a flash of light. How many mice are represented by the rectangle between 0.5 and 1 second?
Exercise \(\PageIndex{8}\)
Here is a dot plot that represents a data set. Explain why the mean of the data set is greater than its median.
(From Unit 8.4.2)
Exercise \(\PageIndex{9}\)
Jada earns money from babysitting, walking her neighbor’s dogs, and running errands for her aunt. Every four weeks, she combines her earnings and divides them into three equal parts—one for spending, one for saving, and one for donating to a charity. Jada donated $26.00 of her earnings from the past four weeks to charity.
How much could she have earned from each job? Make two lists of how much she could have earned from the three jobs during the past four weeks.
(From Unit 8.3.1)


1.4: Alexis de Tocqueville — Selections from Democracy in America, 1831
Alexis de Tocqueville was born in the early 19th century in Paris, France. Historian, diplomat, and jurist, de Tocqueville born into an aristocratic family and lost many members of his family in the Reign of Terror, the period of turmoil following the French Revolution. In his early twenties, he travelled to America with his friend and colleague, Gustave Beaumont. Drawing on his firsthand experience, he wrote “ Democracy in America” , 4 vol. (1835–40), an analysis of democracy’s possibilities and limitations and a detailed account of the political and social system of the United States in the early 19th century.
…CHAPTER III: SOCIAL CONDITION OF THE ANGLO-AMERICANS
Social condition is commonly the result of circumstances, sometimes of laws, oftener still of these two causes united; but when once established, it may justly be considered as itself the source of almost all the laws, the usages, and the ideas which regulate the conduct of nations: whatever it does not produce, it modifies. If we would become acquainted with the legislation and the manners of a nation, therefore, we must begin by the study of its social condition.
THE STRIKING CHARACTERISTIC OF THE SOCIAL CONDITION OF THE ANGLO-AMERICANS IS ITS ESSENTIAL DEMOCRACY.
Many important observations suggest themselves upon the social condition of the Anglo-Americans; but there is one which takes precedence of all the rest. The social condition of the Americans is eminently democratic; this was its character at the foundation of the colonies, and is still more strongly marked at the present day.
I have stated in the preceding chapter that great equality existed among the emigrants who settled on the shores of New England. The germ of aristocracy was never planted in that part of the Union. The only influence which obtained there was that of intellect; the people were used to reverence certain names as the emblems of knowledge and virtue. Some of their fellow-citizens acquired a power over the rest which might truly have been called aristocratic, if it had been capable of invariable transmission from father to son.
…the law of descent was the last step to equality. I am surprised that ancient and modern jurists have not attributed to this law a greater influence on human affairs.[57] It is true that these laws belong to civil affairs: but they ought nevertheless to be placed at the head of all political institutions; for, while political laws are only the symbol of a nation’s condition, they exercise an incredible influence upon its social state. They have, moreover, a sure and uniform manner of operating upon society, affecting, as it were, generations yet unknown.
Through their means man acquires a kind of preternatural power over the future lot of his fellow-creatures. When the legislator has once regulated the law of inheritance, he may rest from his labor. The machine once put in motion will go on for ages, and advance, as if self-guided, toward a given point. When framed in a particular manner, this law unites, draws together, and vests property and power in a few hands: its tendency is clearly aristocratic. On opposite principles its action is still more rapid; it divides, distributes, and disperses both property and power. Alarmed by the rapidity of its progress, those who despair of arresting its motion endeavor to obstruct by difficulties and impediments; they vainly seek to counteract its effect by contrary efforts: but it gradually reduces or destroys every obstacle, until by its incessant activity the bulwarks of the influence of wealth are ground down to the fine and shifting sand which is the basis of democracy. When the law of inheritance permits, still more when it decrees, the equal division of a father’s property among all his children, its effects are of two kinds: it is important to distinguish them from each other, although they tend to the same end.
In virtue of the law of partible inheritance, the death of every proprietor brings about a kind of revolution in property: not only do his possessions change hands, but their very nature is altered; since they are parceled into shares, which become smaller and smaller at each division. This is the direct, and, as it were, the physical effect of the law. It follows, then, that in countries where equality of inheritance is established by law, property, and especially landed property, must have a tendency to perpetual diminution. The effects, however, of such legislation would only be perceptible after a lapse of time, if the law was abandoned to its own working; for supposing a family to consist of two children (and in a country peopled as France is, the average number is not above three), these children, sharing among them the fortune of both parents, would not be poorer than their father or mother.
But the law of equal division exercises its influence not merely upon the property itself, but it affects the minds of the heirs, and brings their passions into play. These indirect consequences tend powerfully to the destruction of large fortunes, and especially of large domains.
…Most certainly is it not for us, Frenchmen of the nineteenth century, who daily behold the political and social changes which the law of partition is bringing to pass, to question its influence. It is perpetually conspicuous in our country, overthrowing the walls of our dwellings and removing the landmarks of our fields. But although it has produced great effects in France, much still remains for it to do. Our recollections, opinions, and habits, present powerful obstacles to its progress.
In the United States it has nearly completed its work of destruction, and there we can best study its results…In the state of New York, which formerly contained many of these, there are but two who still keep their heads above the stream; and they must shortly disappear. The sons of these opulent citizens have become merchants, lawyers, or physicians. Most of them have lapsed into obscurity. The last trace of hereditary ranks and distinctions is destroyed–the law of partition has reduced all to one level.
I do not mean that there is any deficiency of wealthy individuals in the United States; I know of no country, indeed, where the love of money has taken stronger hold on the affections of men, and where a profounder contempt is expressed for the theory of the permanent equality of property. But wealth circulates with inconceivable rapidity, and experience shows that it is rare to find two succeeding generations in the full enjoyment of it.
This picture, which may perhaps be thought overcharged, still gives a very imperfect idea of what is taking place in the new states of the west and southwest. At the end of the last century a few bold adventurers began to penetrate into the valleys of the Mississippi, and the mass of the population very soon began to move in that direction: communities unheard of till then were seen to emerge from their wilds: states, whose names were not in existence a few years before, claimed their place in the American Union; and in the western settlements we may behold democracy arrived at its utmost extreme. In these states, founded off hand, and as it were by chance, the inhabitants are but of yesterday. Scarcely known to one another, the nearest neighbors are ignorant of each other’s history. In this part of the American continent, therefore, the population has not experienced the influence of great names and great wealth, nor even that of the natural aristocracy of knowledge and virtue. None are there to wield that respectable power which men willingly grant to the remembrance of a life spent in doing good before their eyes. The new states of the west are already inhabited; but society has no existence among them.
It is not only the fortunes of men which are equal in America; even their acquirements partake in some degree of the same uniformity. I do not believe there is a country in the world where, in proportion to the population, there are so few uninstructed, and at the same time so few learned individuals. Primary instruction is within the reach of everybody; superior instruction is scarcely to be obtained by any. This is not surprising; it is in fact the necessary consequence of what we have advanced above. Almost all the Americans are in easy circumstances, and can therefore obtain the elements of human knowledge.
In America there are comparatively few who are rich enough to live without a profession. Every profession requires an apprenticeship, which limits the time of instruction to the early years of life. At fifteen they enter upon their calling, and thus their education ends at the age when ours begins. Whatever is done afterward, is with a view to some special and lucrative object; a science is taken up as a matter of business, and the only branch of it which is attended to is such as admits of an immediate practical application.
In America most of the rich men were formerly poor; most of those who now enjoy leisure were absorbed in business during their youth; the consequence of which is, that when they might have had a taste for study they had no time for it, and when the time is at their disposal they have no longer the inclination.
There is no class, then, in America in which the taste for intellectual pleasures is transmitted with hereditary fortune and leisure, and by which the labors of the intellect are held in honor. Accordingly there is an equal want of the desire and the power of application to these objects.
A middling standard is fixed in America for human knowledge. All approach as near to it as they can; some as they rise, others as they descend. Of course, an immense multitude of persons are to be found who entertain the same number of ideas on religion, history, science, political economy, legislation, and government. The gifts of intellect proceed directly from God, and man cannot prevent their unequal distribution. But in consequence of the state of things which we have here represented, it happens, that although the capacities of men are widely different, as the Creator has doubtless intended they should be, they are submitted to the same method of treatment.
In America the aristocratic element has always been feeble from its birth; and if at the present day it is not actually destroyed, it is at any rate so completely disabled that we can scarcely assign to it any degree of influence in the course of affairs.
The democratic principle, on the contrary, has gained so much strength by time, by events, and by legislation, as to have become not only predominant but all-powerful. There is no family or corporate authority, and it is rare to find even the influence of individual character enjoy any durability.
America, then, exhibits in her social state a most extraordinary phenomenon. Men are there seen on a greater equality in point of fortune and intellect, or in other words, more equal in their strength, than in any other country of the world, or, in any age of which history has preserved the remembrance.
POLITICAL CONSEQUENCES OF THE SOCIAL CONDITION OF THE ANGLO-AMERICANS.
The political consequences of such a social condition as this are easily deducible.
It is impossible to believe that equality will not eventually find its way into the political world as it does everywhere else. To conceive of men remaining forever unequal upon one single point, yet equal on all others, is impossible; they must come in the end to be equal upon all.
Now I know of only two methods of establishing equality in the political world: every citizen must be put in possession of his rights, or rights must be granted to no one. For nations which have arrived at the same stage of social existence as the Anglo-Americans, it is therefore very difficult to discover a medium between the sovereignty of all and the absolute power of one man: and it would be vain to deny that the social condition which I have been describing is equally liable to each of these consequences.
There is, in fact, a manly and lawful passion for equality, which excites men to wish all to be powerful and honored. This passion tends to elevate the humble to the rank of the great; but there exists also in the human heart a depraved taste for equality, which impels the weak to attempt to lower the powerful to their own level, and reduces men to prefer equality in slavery to inequality with freedom. Not that those nations whose social condition is democratic naturally despise liberty; on the contrary, they have an instinctive love of it. But liberty is not the chief and constant object of their desires; equality is their idol: they make rapid and sudden efforts to obtain liberty, and if they miss their aim, resign themselves to their disappointment; but nothing can satisfy them except equality, and rather than lose it they resolve to perish.
On the other hand, in a state where the citizens are nearly on an equality, it becomes difficult for them to preserve their independence against the aggression of power. No one among them being strong enough to engage singly in the struggle with advantage, nothing but a general combination can protect their liberty: and such a union is not always to be found. From the same social position, then, nations may derive one or the other of two great political results; these results are extremely different from each other, but they may both proceed from the same cause.
The Anglo-Americans are the first who, having been exposed to this formidable alternative, have been happy enough to escape the dominion of absolute power. They have been allowed by their circumstances, their origin, their intelligence, and especially by their moral feeling, to establish and maintain the sovereignty of the people.
Footnotes:
[1] I understand by the law of descent all those laws whose principal object it is to regulate the distribution of property after the death of its owner. The law of entail is of this number: it certainly prevents the owner from disposing of his possessions before his death; but this is solely with a view of preserving them entire for the heir. The principal object, therefore, of the law of entail is to regulate the descent of property after the death of its owner: its other provisions are merely means to this end.
[2] I do not mean to say that the small proprietor cultivates his land better, but he cultivates it with more ardor and care; so that he makes up by his labor for his want of skill.
[3] Land being the most stable kind of property, we find, from time to time, rich individuals who are disposed to make great sacrifices in order to obtain it, and who willingly forfeit a considerable part of their income to make sure of the rest. But these are accidental cases. The preference for landed property is no longer found habitually in any class but among the poor. The small land-owner, who has less information, less imagination, and fewer passions, than the great one, is generally occupied with the desire of increasing his estate; and it often happens that by inheritance, by marriage, or by the chances of trade, he is gradually furnished with the means. Thus, to balance the tendency which leads men to divide their estates, there exists another, which incites them to add to them. This tendency, which is sufficient to prevent estates from being divided ad infinitum, is not strong enough to create great territorial possessions, certainly not to keep them up in the same family.
…CHAPTER IX: WHY THE PEOPLE MAY STRICTLY BE SAID TO GOVERN IN THE UNITED STATES.
I have hitherto examined the institutions of the United States; I have passed their legislation in review, and I have depicted the present characteristics of political society in that country. But a sovereign power exists above these institutions and beyond these characteristic features, which may destroy or modify them at its pleasure; I mean that of the people. It remains to be shown in what manner this power, which regulates the laws, acts: its propensities and its passions remain to be pointed out, as well as the secret springs which retard, accelerate, or direct its irresistible course; and the effects of its unbounded authority, with the destiny which is probably reserved for it. In America the people appoints the legislative and the executive power, and furnishes the jurors who punish all offences against the laws. The American institutions are democratic, not only in their principle but in all their consequences; and the people elects its representatives directly, and for the most part annually, in order to ensure their dependence. The people is therefore the real directing power; and although the form of government is representative, it is evident that the opinions, the prejudices, the interests, and even the passions of the community are hindered by no durable obstacles from exercising a perpetual influence on society. In the United States the majority governs in the name of the people, as is the case in all the countries in which the people is supreme. This majority is principally composed of peaceable citizens, who, either by inclination or by interest, are sincerely desirous of the welfare of their country. But they are surrounded by the incessant agitation of parties, which attempt to gain their co-operation and to avail themselves of their support.
…The defects and the weaknesses of a democratic government may very readily be discovered; they are demonstrated by the most flagrant instances, while its beneficial influence is less perceptibly exercised. A single glance suffices to detect its evil consequences, but its good qualities can only be discerned by long observation. The laws of the American democracy are frequently defective or incomplete; they sometimes attack vested rights, or give a sanction to others which are dangerous to the community; but even if they were good, the frequent changes which they undergo would be an evil. How comes it, then, that the American republics prosper, and maintain their position?
In the consideration of laws, a distinction must be carefully observed between the end at which they aim, and the means by which they are directed to that end; between their absolute and their relative excellence. If it be the intention of the legislator to favor the interests of the minority at the expense of the majority, and if the measures he takes are so combined as to accomplish the object he has in view with the least possible expense of time and exertion, the law may be well drawn up, although its purpose be bad; and the more efficacious it is, the greater is the mischief which it causes.
Democratic laws generally tend to promote the welfare of the greatest possible number; for they emanate from a majority of the citizens, who are subject to error, but who cannot have an interest opposed to their own advantage. The laws of an aristocracy tend, on the contrary, to concentrate wealth and power in the hands of the minority, because an aristocracy, by its very nature, constitutes a minority. It may therefore be asserted, as a general proposition, that the purpose of a democracy, in the conduct of its legislation, is useful to a greater number of citizens than that of an aristocracy. This is, however, the sum total of its advantages.
Aristocracies are infinitely more expert in the science of legislation than democracies ever can be. They are possessed of a self-control which protects them from the errors of a temporary excitement; and they form lasting designs which they mature with the assistance of favorable opportunities. Aristocratic government proceeds with the dexterity of art; it understands how to make the collective force of all its laws converge at the same time to a given point. Such is not the case with democracies, whose laws are almost always ineffective, or inopportune. The means of democracy are therefore more imperfect than those of aristocracy, and the measures which it unwittingly adopts are frequently opposed to its own cause; but the object it has in view is more useful.
Let us now imagine a community so organized by nature, or by its constitution, that it can support the transitory action of bad laws, and it can await, without destruction, the general tendency of the legislation: we shall then be able to conceive that a democratic government, notwithstanding its defects, will be most fitted to conduce to the prosperity of this community. This is precisely what has occurred in the United States; and I repeat, what I have before remarked, that the great advantage of the Americans consists in their being able to commit faults which they may afterward repair.
An analogous observation may be made respecting officers. It is easy to perceive that the American democracy frequently errs in the choice of the individuals to whom it entrusts the power of the administration; but it is more difficult to say why the state prospers under their rule. In the first place it is to be remarked, that if in a democratic state the governors have less honesty and less capacity than elsewhere, the governed on the other hand are more enlightened and more attentive to their interests. As the people in democracies is more incessantly vigilant in its affairs, and more jealous of its rights, it prevents its representatives from abandoning that general line of conduct which its own interest prescribes. In the second place, it must be remembered that if the democratic magistrate is more apt to misuse his power, he possesses it for a shorter period of time. But there is yet another reason which is still more general and conclusive. It is no doubt of importance to the welfare of nations that they should be governed by men of talents and virtue; but it is perhaps still more important that the interests of those men should not differ from the interests of the community at large; for if such were the case, virtues of a high order might become useless, and talents might be turned to a bad account. I say that it is important that the interests of the persons in authority should not conflict with or oppose the interests of the community at large; but I do not insist upon their having the same interests as the whole population, because I am not aware that such a state of things ever existed in any country.
…The English aristocracy is perhaps the most liberal which ever existed, and no body of men has ever, uninterruptedly, furnished so many honorable and enlightened individuals to the government of a country. It cannot, however, escape observation, that in the legislation of England the good of the poor has been sacrificed to the advantage of the rich, and the rights of the majority to the privileges of the few. The consequence is that England, at the present day, combines the extremes of fortune in the bosom of her society; and her perils and calamities are almost equal to her power and her renown.
In the United States, where the public officers have no interests to promote connected with their caste, the general and constant influence of the government is beneficial, although the individuals who conduct it are frequently unskillful and sometimes contemptible. There is, indeed, a secret tendency in democratic institutions to render the exertions of the citizens subservient to the prosperity of the community, notwithstanding their private vices and mistakes; while in aristocratic institutions there is a secret propensity, which, notwithstanding the talents and the virtues of those who conduct the government, leads them to contribute to the evils which oppress their fellow creatures. In aristocratic governments public men may frequently do injuries which they do not intend; and in democratic states they produce advantages which they never thought of.
PUBLIC SPIRIT IN THE UNITED STATES.
There is one sort of patriotic attachment which principally arises from that instinctive, disinterested, and undefinable feeling which connects the affections of man with his birthplace. This natural fondness is united to a taste for ancient customs, and to a reverence for ancestral traditions of the past; those who cherish it love their country as they love the mansion of their fathers. They enjoy the tranquility which it affords them; they cling to the peaceful habits which they have contracted within its bosom; they are attached to the reminiscences which it awakens, and they are even pleased by the state of obedience in which they are placed. This patriotism is sometimes stimulated by religious enthusiasm, and then it is capable of making the most prodigious efforts. It is in itself a kind of religion; it does not reason, but it acts from the impulse of faith and of sentiment. By some nations the monarch has been regarded as a personification of the country; and the fervor of patriotism being converted into the fervor of loyalty, they took a sympathetic pride in his conquests, and gloried in his power. At one time, under the ancient monarchy, the French felt a sort of satisfaction in the sense of their dependence upon the arbitrary pleasure of their king, and they were wont to say with pride: “We are the subjects of the most powerful king in the world.”
But, like all instinctive passions, this kind of patriotism is more apt to prompt transient exertion than to supply the motives of continuous endeavor. It may save the state in critical circumstances, but it will not infrequently allow the nation to decline in the midst of peace. While the manners of a people are simple, and its faith unshaken, while society is steadily based upon traditional institutions, whose legitimacy has never been contested, this instinctive patriotism is wont to endure.
But there is another species of attachment to a country which is more rational than the one we have been describing. It is perhaps less generous and less ardent, but it is more fruitful and more lasting; it is coeval with the spread of knowledge, it is nurtured by the laws, it grows by the exercise of civil rights, and in the end, it is confounded with the personal interest of the citizen. A man comprehends the influence which the prosperity of his country has upon his own welfare; he is aware that the laws authorize him to contribute his assistance to that prosperity, and he labors to promote it as a portion of his interest in the first place, and as a portion of his right in the second.
But epochs sometimes occur, in the course of the existence of a nation, at which the ancient customs of a people are changed, public morality destroyed, religious belief disturbed, and the spell of tradition broken, while the diffusion of knowledge is yet imperfect, and the civil rights of the community are ill secured, or confined within very narrow limits. The country then assumes a dim and dubious shape in the eyes of the citizens; they no longer behold it in the soil which they inhabit, for that soil is to them a dull inanimate clod; nor in the usages of their forefathers, which they have been taught to look upon as a debasing yoke; nor in religion, for of that they doubt; nor in the laws, which do not originate in their own authority; nor in the legislator, whom they fear and despise. The country is lost to their senses, they can neither discover it under its own, nor under borrowed features, and they entrench themselves within the dull precincts of a narrow egotism. They are emancipated from prejudice, without having acknowledged the empire of reason; they are animated neither by the instinctive patriotism of monarchical subjects, nor by the thinking patriotism of republican citizens; but they have stopped half-way between the two, in the midst of confusion and of distress.
In this predicament, to retreat is impossible; for a people cannot restore the vivacity of its earlier times, any more than a man can return to the innocence and the bloom of childhood; such things may be regretted, but they cannot be renewed. The only thing, then, which remains to be done, is to proceed, and to accelerate the union of private with public interests, since the period of disinterested patriotism is gone by for ever.
I am certainly very far from averring, that, in order to obtain this result, the exercise of political rights should be immediately granted to all the members of the community. But I maintain that the most powerful, and perhaps the only means of interesting men in the welfare of their country, which we still possess, is to make them partakers in the government. At the present time civic zeal seems to me to be inseparable from the exercise of political rights; and I hold that the number of citizens will be found to augment or decrease in Europe in proportion as those rights are extended.
In the United States, the inhabitants were thrown but as yesterday upon the soil which they now occupy, and they brought neither customs nor traditions with them there; they meet each other for the first time with no previous acquaintance; in short, the instinctive love of their country can scarcely exist in their minds; but every one takes as zealous an interest in the affairs of his township, his country, and of the whole state, as if they were his own, because every one, in his sphere, takes an active part in the government of society.
The lower orders in the United States are alive to the perception of the influence exercised by the general prosperity upon their own welfare; and simple as this observation is, it is one which is but too rarely made by the people. But in America the people regard this prosperity as the result of its own exertions; the citizen looks upon the fortune of the public as his private interest, and he co-operates in its success, not so much from a sense of pride or of duty, as from what I shall venture to term cupidity.
It is unnecessary to study the institutions and the history of the Americans in order to discover the truth of this remark, for their manners render it sufficiently evident. As the American participates in all that is done in his country, he thinks himself obliged to defend whatever may be censured; for it is not only his country which is attacked upon these occasions, but it is himself. The consequence is that his national pride resorts to a thousand artifices, and to all the petty tricks of individual vanity.
Nothing is more embarrassing in the ordinary intercourse of life than this irritable patriotism of the Americans. A stranger may be well inclined to praise many of the institutions of their country, but he begs permission to blame some of the peculiarities which he observes–a permission which is however inexorably refused. America is therefore a free country, in which, lest anybody should be hurt by your remarks, you are not allowed to speak freely of private individuals or of the state; of the citizens or of the authorities; of public or of private undertakings; or, in short, of anything at all, except it be of the climate and the soil; and even then Americans will be found ready to defend either the one or the other, as if they had been contrived by the inhabitants of the country.
In our times, option must be made between the patriotism of all and the government of a few; for the force and activity which the first confers, are irreconcilable with the guarantees of tranquility which the second furnishes.
NOTION OF RIGHTS IN THE UNITED STATES
After the idea of virtue, I am acquainted with no higher principle than that of right; or, to speak more accurately, these two ideas are commingled in one. The idea of right is simply that of virtue introduced into the political world. It is the idea of right which enabled men to define anarchy and tyranny; and which taught them to remain independent without arrogance, as well as to obey without servility. The man who submits to violence is debased by his compliance; but when he obeys the mandate of one who possesses that right of authority which he acknowledges in a fellow creature, he rises in some measure above the person who delivers the command. There are no great men without virtue, and there are no great nations–it may also be added that there would be no society–without the notion of rights; for what is the condition of a mass of rational and intelligent beings who are only united together by the bond of force?
I am persuaded that the only means which we possess at the present time of inculcating the notion of rights, and of rendering it, as it were, palpable to the senses, is to invest all the members of the community with the peaceful exercise of certain rights: this is very clearly seen in children, who are men without the strength and the experience of manhood. When a child begins to move in the midst of the objects which surround him, he is instinctively led to turn everything which he can lay his hands upon to his own purpose; he has no notion of the property of others; but as he gradually learns the value of things, and begins to perceive that he may in his turn be deprived of his possessions, he becomes more circumspect, and he observes those rights in others which he wishes to have respected in himself. The principle which the child derives from the possession of his toys, is taught to the man by the objects which he may call his own. In America those complaints against property in general, which are so frequent in Europe, are never heard, because in America there are no paupers; and as every one has property of his own to defend, every one recognizes the principle upon which he holds it.
The same thing occurs in the political world. In America the lowest classes have conceived a very high notion of political rights, because they exercise those rights; and they refrain from attacking those of other people, in order to ensure their own from attack. While in Europe the same classes sometimes resist even against the supreme power, the American submits without a murmur to the authority of the pettiest magistrate.
This truth is exemplified by the most trivial details of national peculiarities. In France very few pleasures are exclusively reserved for the higher classes; the poor are admitted wherever the rich are received; and they consequently behave with propriety, and respect whatever contributes to the enjoyments in which they themselves participate. In England, where wealth has a monopoly of amusement as well as of power, complaints are made that whenever the poor happen to steal into the enclosures which are reserved for the pleasures of the rich, they commit acts of wanton mischief: can this be wondered at, since care has been taken that they should have nothing to lose?
The government of the democracy brings the notion of political rights to the level of the humblest citizens, just as the dissemination of wealth brings the notion of property within the reach of all the members of the community; and I confess that, to my mind, this is one of its greatest advantages. I do not assert that it is easy to teach men to exercise political rights; but I maintain that when it is possible, the effects which result from it are highly important: and I add that if there ever was a time at which such an attempt ought to be made, that time is our own. It is clear that the influence of religious belief is shaken, and that the notion of divine rights is declining; it is evident that public morality is vitiated, and the notion of moral rights is also disappearing: these are general symptoms of the substitution of argument for faith, and of calculation for the impulses of sentiment. If, in the midst of this general disruption, you do not succeed in connecting the notion of rights with that of personal interest, which is the only immutable point in the human heart, what means will you have of governing the world except by fear? When I am told that since the laws are weak and the populace is wild, since passions are excited and the authority of virtue is paralyzed, no measures must be taken to increase the rights of the democracy; I reply that it is for these very reasons that some measures of the kind must be taken; and I am persuaded that governments are still more interested in taking them than society at large, because governments are liable to be destroyed, and society cannot perish.
I am not, however, inclined to exaggerate the example which America furnishes. In those states the people was invested with political rights at a time when they could scarcely be abused, for the citizens were few in number and simple in their manners. As they have increased, the Americans have not augmented the power of the democracy, but they have, if I may use the expression, extended its dominions.
RESPECT FOR THE LAW IN THE UNITED STATES.
…It is not always feasible to consult the whole people, either directly or indirectly, in the formation of the law; but it cannot be denied that when such a measure is possible, the authority of the law is very much augmented. This popular origin, which impairs the excellence and the wisdom of legislation, contributes prodigiously to increase its power. There is an amazing strength in the expression of the determination of a whole people; and when it declares itself, the imagination of those who are most inclined to contest it, is overawed by its authority. The truth of this fact is very well known by parties; and they consequently strive to make out a majority whenever they can. If they have not the greater number of voters on their side, they assert that the true majority abstained from voting; and if they are foiled even there, they have recourse to the body of those persons who had no votes to give.
In the United States, except slaves, servants, and paupers in the receipt of relief from the townships, there is no class of persons who do not exercise the elective franchise, and who do not contribute indirectly to make the laws. Those who design to attack the laws must consequently either modify the opinion of the nation or trample upon its decision.
A second reason, which is still more weighty, may be farther adduced: in the United States every one is personally interested in enforcing the obedience of the whole community to the law; for as the minority may shortly rally the majority to its principles, it is interested in professing that respect for the decrees of the legislator, which it may soon have occasion to claim for its own. However irksome an enactment may be, the citizen of the United States complies with it, not only because it is the work of the majority, but because it originates in his own authority; and he regards it as a contract to which he is himself a party.
In the United States, then, that numerous and turbulent multitude does not exist, which always looks upon the law as its natural enemy, and accordingly surveys it with fear and with distrust. It is impossible, on the other hand, not to perceive that all classes display the utmost reliance upon the legislation of their country, and that they are attached to it by a kind of parental affection.
I am wrong, however, in saying all classes; for as in America the European scale of authority is inverted, the wealthy are there placed in a position analogous to that of the poor in the Old World, and it is the opulent classes which frequently look upon the law with suspicion. I have already observed that the advantage of democracy is not, as has been sometimes asserted, that it protects the interests of the whole community, but simply that it protects those of the majority. In the United States, where the poor rule, the rich have always some reason to dread the abuses of their power. This natural anxiety of the rich may produce a sullen dissatisfaction, but society is not disturbed by it; for the same reason which induces the rich to withhold their confidence in the legislative authority, makes them obey its mandates; their wealth, which prevents them from making the law, prevents them from withstanding it. Among civilized nations revolts are rarely excited except by such persons as have nothing to lose by them; and if the laws of a democracy are not always worthy of respect, at least they always obtain it; for those who usually infringe the laws have no excuse for not complying with the enactments they have themselves made, and by which they are themselves benefited, while the citizens whose interests might be promoted by the infraction of them, are induced, by their character and their station, to submit to the decisions of the legislature, whatever they may be. Beside which, the people in America obeys the law not only because it emanates from the popular authority, but because that authority may modify it in any points which may prove vexatory; a law is observed because it is a self-imposed evil in the first place, and an evil of transient duration in the second.
ACTIVITY WHICH PERVADES ALL THE BRANCHES OF THE BODY POLITIC IN THE UNITED STATES; INFLUENCE WHICH IT EXERCISES UPON SOCIETY.
On passing from a country in which free institutions are established to one where they do not exist, the traveller is struck by the change; in the former all is bustle and activity, in the latter everything is calm and motionless. In the one, melioration and progress are the general topics of inquiry; in the other, it seems as if the community only aspired to repose in the enjoyment of the advantages which it has acquired. Nevertheless, the country which exerts itself so strenuously to promote its welfare is generally more wealthy and more prosperous than that which appears to be so contented with its lot; and when we compare them together, we can scarcely conceive how so many new wants are daily felt in the former, while so few seem to occur in the latter.
If this remark is applicable to those free countries in which monarchical and aristocratic institutions subsist, it is still more striking with regard to democratic republics. In these states it is not only a portion of the people which is busied with the melioration of its social condition, but the whole community is engaged in the task; and it is not the exigencies and the convenience of a single class for which a provision is to be made, but the exigencies and the convenience of all ranks of life.
It is not impossible to conceive the surpassing liberty which the Americans enjoy; some idea may likewise be formed of the extreme equality which subsists among them; but the political activity which pervades the United States must be seen in order to be understood. No sooner do you set foot upon the American soil than you are stunned by a kind of tumult; a confused clamor is heard on every side; and a thousand simultaneous voices demand the immediate satisfaction of their social wants. Everything is in motion around you; here, the people of one quarter of a town are met to decide upon the building of a church; there, the election of a representative is going on; a little further, the delegates of a district are posting to the town in order to consult upon some local improvements; or, in another place, the laborers of a village quit their ploughs to deliberate upon the project of a road or a public school. Meetings are called for the sole purpose of declaring their disapprobation of the line of conduct pursued by the government; while in other assemblies the citizens salute the authorities of the day as the fathers of their country. Societies are formed, which regard drunkenness as the principal cause of the evils under which the state labors, and which solemnly bind themselves to give a constant example of temperance. [1]
The great political agitation of the American legislative bodies, which is the only kind of excitement that attracts the attention of foreign countries, is a mere episode or a sort of continuation of that universal movement which originates in the lowest classes of the people and extends successively to all the ranks of society. It is impossible to spend more efforts in the pursuit of enjoyment.
The cares of political life engross a most prominent place in the occupation of a citizen in the United States; and almost the only pleasure of which an American has any idea, is to take a part in the government, and to discuss the part he has taken. This feeling pervades the most trifling habits of life; even the women frequently attend public meetings, and listen to political harangues as a recreation after their household labors. Debating clubs are to a certain extent a substitute for theatrical entertainments: an American cannot converse, but he can discuss; and when he attempts to talk he falls into a dissertation. He speaks to you as if he were addressing a meeting; and if he should warm in the course of the discussion, he will infallibly say “gentlemen,” to the person with whom he is conversing.
In some countries the inhabitants display a certain repugnance to avail themselves of the political privileges with which the law invests them; it would seem that they set too high a value upon their time to spend it on the interests of the community; and they prefer to withdraw within the exact limits of a wholesome egotism, marked out by four sunk fences and a quickset hedge. But if an American were condemned to confine his activity to his own affairs, he would be robbed of one half of his existence; he would feel an immense void in the life which he is accustomed to lead, and his wretchedness would be unbearable. [2] I am persuaded that if ever a despotic government is established in America, it will find it more difficult to surmount the habits which free institutions have engendered, than to conquer the attachment of the citizens to freedom.
This ceaseless agitation which democratic government has introduced into the political world, influences all social intercourse. I am not sure that upon the whole this is not the greatest advantage of democracy; and I am much less inclined to applaud it for what it does, than for what it causes to be done.
It is incontestable that the people frequently conducts public business very ill; but it is impossible that the lower orders should take a part in public business without extending the circle of their ideas, and without quitting the ordinary routine of their mental acquirements. The humblest individual who is called upon to co-operate in the government of society, acquires a certain degree of self-respect; and as he possesses authority, he can command the services of minds much more enlightened than his own. He is canvassed by a multitude of applicants, who seek to deceive him in a thousand different ways, but who instruct him by their deceit. He takes a part in political undertakings which did not originate in his own conception, but which give him a taste for undertakings of the kind. New meliorations are daily pointed out in the property which he holds in common with others, and this gives him the desire of improving that property which is more peculiarly his own. He is perhaps neither happier nor better than those who came before him, but he is better informed and more active. I have no doubt that the democratic institutions of the United States, joined to the physical constitution of the country, are the cause (not the direct, as is so often asserted, but the indirect cause) of the prodigious commercial activity of the inhabitants. It is not engendered by the laws, but the people learns how to promote it by the experience derived from legislation.
When the opponents of democracy assert that a single individual performs the duties which he undertakes much better than the government of the community, it appears to me that they are perfectly right. The government of an individual, supposing an equality of instruction on either side, is more consistent, more persevering, and more accurate than that of a multitude, and it is much better qualified judiciously to discriminate the characters of the men it employs. If any deny what I advance, they have certainly never seen a democratic government, or have formed their opinion upon very partial evidence. It is true that even when local circumstances and the disposition of the people allow democratic institutions to subsist, they never display a regular and methodical system of government. Democratic liberty is far from accomplishing all the projects it undertakes, with the skill of an adroit despotism. It frequently abandons them before they have borne their fruits, or risks them when the consequences may prove dangerous; but in the end it produces more than any absolute government, and if it do fewer things well, it does a great number of things. Under its sway, the transactions of the public administration are not nearly so important as what is done by private exertion. Democracy does not confer the most skillful kind of government upon the people, but it produces that which the most skillful governments are frequently unable to awaken, namely, an all-pervading and restless activity, a superabundant force, and an energy which is inseparable from it, and which may, under favorable circumstances, beget the most amazing benefits. These are the true advantages of democracy.
…If it be your intention to confer a certain elevation upon the human mind, and to teach it to regard the things of this world with generous feelings; to inspire men with a scorn of mere temporal advantage; to give birth to living convictions, and to keep alive the spirit of honorable devotedness; if you hold it to be a good thing to refine the habits, to embellish the manners, to cultivate the arts of a nation, and to promote the love of poetry, of beauty, and of renown; if you would constitute a people not unfitted to act with power upon all other nations; nor unprepared for those high enterprises, which, whatever be the result of its efforts, will leave a name for ever famous in time–if you believe such to be the principal object of society, you must avoid the government of democracy, which would be a very uncertain guide to the end you have in view.
But if you hold it to be expedient to divert the moral and intellectual activity of man to the production of comfort, and to the acquirement of the necessaries of life; if a clear understanding be more profitable to men than genius; if your object be not to stimulate the virtues of heroism, but to create habits of peace; if you had rather behold vices than crimes, and are content to meet with fewer noble deeds, provided offences be diminished in the same proportion; if, instead of living in the midst of a brilliant state of society, you are contented to have prosperity around you; if, in short, you are of opinion that the principal object of a government is not to confer the greatest possible share of power and of glory upon the body of the nation, but to ensure the greatest degree of enjoyment, and the least degree of misery, to each of the individuals who compose it–if such be your desires, you can have no surer means of satisfying them than by equalizing the condition of men, and establishing democratic institutions.
But if the time be past at which such a choice was possible, and if some superhuman power impel us toward one or the other of these two governments without consulting our wishes, let us at least endeavor to make the best of that which is allotted to us: and let us so inquire into its good and its evil propensities as to be able to foster the former, and repress the latter to the utmost.
Footnotes:
[1] At the time of my stay in the United States the temperance societies already consisted of more than 270,000 members; and their effect had been to diminish the consumption of fermented liquors by 500,000 gallons per annum in the state of Pennsylvania alone.
[2] The same remark was made at Rome under the first Caesars. Montesquieu somewhere alludes to the excessive despondency of certain Roman citizens who, after the excitement of political life, were all at once flung back into the stagnation of private life.
Image Attribution: “Alexis de Tocqueville” by Theodore Chasseriau , Wikimedia Commons is in the Public Domain


6.6: Power Dissipation in Conducting Media
-
- Last updated
- Save as PDF
The displacement of charge in response to the force exerted by an electric field constitutes a reduction in the potential energy of the system (Section 5.8). If the charge is part of a steady current, there must be an associated loss of energy that occurs at a steady rate. Since power is energy per unit time, the loss of energy associated with current is expressible as power dissipation. In this section, we address two questions:
- How much power is dissipated in this manner, and
- What happens to the lost energy?
First, recall that work is force times distance traversed in response to that force (Section 5.8). Stated mathematically:
\[\Delta W = +{\bf F}\cdot \Delta {\bf l} \nonumber \]
where the vector \({\bf F}\) is the force (units of N) exerted by the electric field, the vector \(\Delta {\bf l}\) is the direction and distance (units of m) traversed, and \(\Delta W\) is the work done (units of J) as a result. Note that a “\(+\)” has been explicitly indicated; this is to emphasize the distinction from the work being considered in Section 5.8. In that section, the work “\(\Delta W\)” represented energy from an external source that was being used to increase the potential energy of the system by moving charge “upstream” relative to the electric field. Now, \(\Delta W\) represents this internal energy as it is escaping from the system in the form of kinetic energy; therefore, positive \(\Delta W\) now means a reduction in potential energy, hence the sign change (note: it is bad form to use the same variable to represent both tallies; nevertheless, it is common practice and so we simply remind the reader that it is important to be aware of the definitions of variables each time they are (re)introduced).
The associated power \(\Delta P\) (units of W) is \(\Delta W\) divided by the time \(\Delta t\) (units of s) required for the distance \(\Delta{\bf l}\) to be traversed:
\[\Delta P = \frac{\Delta W}{\Delta t} = {\bf F}\cdot \frac{\Delta {\bf l}}{\Delta t} \nonumber \]
Now we’d like to express force in terms of the electric field exerting this force. Recall that the force exerted by an electric field intensity \({\bf E}\) (units of V/m) on a particle bearing charge \(q\) (units of C) is \(q{\bf E}\) (Section 2.2). However, we’d like to express this force in terms of a current, as opposed to a charge. An expression in terms of current can be constructed as follows. First, note that the total charge in a small volume “cell” is the volume charge density \(\rho_v\) (units of C/m\(^3\)) times the volume \(\Delta v\) of the cell; i.e., \(q = \rho_v \Delta v\) (Section 5.3). Therefore:
\[{\bf F} = q{\bf E} = \rho_v~\Delta v~{\bf E} \nonumber \]
and subsequently
\[\Delta P = \rho_v~\Delta v~{\bf E} \cdot \frac{\Delta {\bf l}}{\Delta t} = {\bf E} \cdot \left( \rho_v \frac{\Delta {\bf l}}{\Delta t} \right) \Delta v \nonumber \]
The quantity in parentheses has units of C/m\(^3\) \(\cdot\) m \(\cdot\) s\(^{-1}\), which is A/m\(^2\). Apparently this quantity is the volume current density \({\bf J}\), so we have
\[\Delta P = {\bf E} \cdot {\bf J}~\Delta v \nonumber \] In the limit as \(\Delta v\to 0\) we have \[dP = {\bf E} \cdot {\bf J}~dv \nonumber \] and integrating over the volume \({\mathcal V}\) of interest we obtain
\[P = \int_{\mathcal V} dP = \int_{\mathcal V} {\bf E} \cdot {\bf J}~dv \label{m0106_eJLx} \]
The above expression is commonly known as Joule’s Law . In our situation, it is convenient to use Ohm’s Law for Electromagnetics (\({\bf J}=\sigma{\bf E}\); Section 6.3) to get everything in terms of materials properties (\(\sigma\)), geometry (\({\mathcal V}\)), and the electric field:
\[P = \int_{\mathcal V} {\bf E} \cdot \left(\sigma{\bf E}\right)~dv \nonumber \]
which is simply
\[\boxed{ P = \int_{\mathcal V} \sigma \left|{\bf E}\right|^2~dv } \label{m0106_eJL} \]
Thus:
The power dissipation associated with current is given by Equation \ref{m0106_eJL}. This power is proportional to conductivity and proportional to the electric field magnitude squared.
This result facilitates the analysis of power dissipation in materials exhibiting loss; i.e., having finite conductivity. But what is the power dissipation in a perfectly conducting material? For such a material, \(\sigma\to\infty\) and \({\bf E}\to 0\) no matter how much current is applied (Section 6.3). In this case, Equation \ref{m0106_eJL} is not very helpful. However, as we just noted, being a perfect conductor means \({\bf E}\to 0\) no matter how much current is applied, so from Equation \ref{m0106_eJLx} we have found that:
No power is dissipated in a perfect conductor.
When conductivity is finite, Equation \ref{m0106_eJL} serves as a more-general version of a concept from elementary circuit theory, as we shall now demonstrate. Let \({\bf E}=\hat{\bf z}E_z\), so \(\left|{\bf E}\right|^2=E_z^2\). Then Equation \ref{m0106_eJL} becomes:
\[P = \int_{\mathcal V} \sigma E_z^2~dv = \sigma E_z^2~\int_{\mathcal V}~dv \label{m0106_ePintegrals} \]
The second integral in Equation \ref{m0106_ePintegrals} is a calculation of volume. Let’s assume \({\mathcal V}\) is a cylinder aligned along the \(z\) axis. The volume of this cylinder is the cross-sectional area \(A\) times the length \(l\). Then the above equation becomes:
\[P = \sigma E_z^2~A~l \nonumber \]
For reasons that will become apparent very shortly, let’s reorganize the above expression as follows:
\[P = \left(\sigma E_z A\right) \left(E_z l\right) \nonumber \]
Note that \(\sigma E_z\) is the current density in A/m\(^2\), which when multiplied by \(A\) gives the total current. Therefore, the quantity in the first set of parentheses is simply the current \(I\). Also note that \(E_z l\) is the potential difference over the length \(l\), which is simply the node-to-node voltage \(V\) (Section 5.8). Therefore, we have found:
\[P = IV \nonumber \]
as expected from elementary circuit theory.
Now, what happens to the energy associated with this dissipation of power? The displacement of charge carriers in the material is limited by the conductivity, which itself is finite because, simply put, other constituents of the material get in the way. If charge is being displaced as described in this section, then energy is being used to displace the charge-bearing particles. The motion of constituent particles is observed as heat – in fact, this is essentially the definition of heat. Therefore:
The power dissipation associated with the flow of current in any material that is not a perfect conductor manifests as heat.
This phenomenon is known as joule heating , ohmic heating , and by other names. This conversion of electrical energy to heat is the method of operation for toasters, electric space heaters, and many other devices that generate heat. It is of course also the reason that all practical electronic devices generate heat.