CHAPTER LV.
ON RESISTANCE TO DE FACTO GOVERNMENTS
The questions hitherto discussed relating to the obedience due to power are very grave; but those of resistance to it are still more important.
Is it allowable, under any circumstances, in any supposition, to resist the civil power by physical force? Does there nowhere exist a deposing power? How far do Catholic doctrines extend on this subject? Such are the extreme points we purpose to discuss. According to one system, obedience is due to a government from the very fact of its existence, even on the supposition that its existence is illegitimate. Now, it is important to demonstrate, at the very outset, the unsoundness of this doctrine, which is contrary to right reason, and has never been taught by Catholicity. In preaching obedience "to the powers that be," the Church speaks of powers that have a legitimate existence. The absurdity, that a simple fact can create right, can never become a dogma of Catholicity. Were it true that resistance would be unlawful, it would be equally true that an illegitimate government has a right to command; for the obligation to obey is correlative with the right to command; and an illegitimate government would, consequently, become legitimatised by the simple fact of its existence. This would legitimatise all usurpations; the most heroic resistance on the part of the people would be condemned; the world would be abandoned to the mere rule of force. No; that degrading doctrine is not true which derives legitimacy from usurpation; which says to a people conquered and subjugated by any usurper whatever, "Obey your tyrant; his rights are founded on force, and your obligation to him on your weakness." No; there cannot be truth in a doctrine that would efface from our history one of its brightest pages, that would entail disgrace upon a nation taking up arms to expel an usurper, struggling for its independence during a period of six years, and finally overthrowing the conqueror of Europe. If Napoleon had succeeded in establishing his power amongst us, the Spanish nation would still have maintained the right on account of which it revolted in 1808; victory could not have rendered usurpation legitimate. The victims of the second of May did not legalise the command of Murat; and had even every corner of the peninsula been made a theatre of horrors similar to those witnessed on the Prado, the blood of martyred patriots, covering the usurper and his satellites with everlasting infamy, would only have confirmed the sacred right of revolting in defence of the throne, of national independence. We must repeat it: the simple fact does not create a right, either in private or public affairs; and so soon as such a principle is acknowledged, every idea of reason and justice disappears from the world. Those who may have wished to flatter governments with so fatal a doctrine, were not aware that this was the very way to ruin them, and to sow the seeds of usurpation and insurrection. What will be safe here below if we admit the principle, that success insures justice, and that the conqueror is always the rightful ruler? Is not this throwing open a wide gate to ambition, and to every crime? Is it not exciting men to forget every idea of right, reason, and justice, to acknowledge no other rule than brute force? Governments protected by so strange a doctrine would assuredly owe little gratitude to their protectors: this, in fact, is no defence; it is an insult; it is more of a cruel sarcasm than an apology. To what, indeed, does it amount, and how would this doctrine sound? Why, as follows: "People, obey him who commands you; you say his authority is usurped; we do not deny it; but, by the very fact of his having attained his end, the usurper has acquired a right. He is, indeed, a robber who has attacked you on the highway; he has stolen your money; but, by the mere fact of your not being able to resist him, and being forced to deliver to him your purse, now that he is possessed of it, you ought to respect this money as an inviolable property: such is your duty. It is a robbery; but this robbery being a consummated act, you cannot now obtain redress for it."
In this point of view the doctrine of consummated facts appears so much opposed to generally received ideas, that no reasonable man can seriously accept it. I do not deny that there are cases in which obedience, even to an illegitimate government, is to be recommended; when, for instance, we foresee that resistance would be useless, that it would only lead to new disorders, and to a greater effusion of blood: but in recommending prudence to the people, let us not disguise it under false doctrines – let us beware of calming the exasperation of misfortune by circulating errors subversive of all governments, of all society. It is worthy of remark, that all powers, even the most illegitimate, have a truer instinct than that manifested by the maintenance of such maxims. All powers in the first moment of their existence, before commencing their operations, before proceeding to one single act, proclaim their legitimacy. They seek it in right divine and human, they establish it upon birth or election, they derive it from historical titles, or the sudden development of extraordinary events; but all tends to the same point, the pretension to legitimacy. They never speak of the mere fact of their existence; from the instinct that prompts their own preservation they learn better than to rely upon such grounds, since to do so would be to annihilate their authority, to destroy their prestige, to encourage revolt; in a word, to commit self-destruction. We have here the most explicit condemnation of the doctrine we are combating, for the most shameless usurpers have more respect for good sense and the public conscience.
It sometimes happens that doctrines the most erroneous assume a veil of gentleness and Christian meekness. We must overthrow the arguments that might be employed against us, by the advocates of blind submission to any power that happens to be established. "The Scriptures," they will say, "prescribe to us obedience to the authorities, without any distinction; the Christian, therefore, ought not to make any distinction, but submit with resignation to such as he finds established." In reply to this objection, I see the following very decisive answers. 1. Illegitimate authority is no authority at all; the idea of power involves the idea of right, without which it is mere physical power, that is, force. When, therefore, the Scriptures prescribe obedience to the authorities, it is the lawful authorities that are implied. 2. The sacred text, in enjoining us obedience to the civil power, tells us that it is ordained by God Himself, that it is the minister of God Himself; and it is evident that usurpation is never invested with so high a character. The usurper is perhaps the instrument of Providence, the scourge of Heaven, as Attila designated himself, but not the minister of God. 3. The sacred Scriptures prescribe obedience to the subject in relation to the civil power, in the same way as they prescribe it to the slave in relation to his master. But what sort of masters are here implied? Evidently such as exercised a legitimate dominion, as it was understood at the time, conformable to the prevailing laws and customs; otherwise the Scriptures would require obedience from such slaves as were reduced to slavery by an abuse of power. Hence, as the obedience to masters prescribed by the Scriptures does not deprive the slave unjustly retained in servitude of his right, so also the obedience due to the established authorities should be restricted to the lawful authorities, and to cases in which prudence would dictate it in order to avoid commotion and scandal.
In confirmation of the doctrine of mere de facto government, the conduct of the first Christians has been sometimes alleged. "They submitted," it is said, "to the constituted authorities without even inquiring whether they were legitimate or not. At this epoch usurpations were frequent, the imperial throne was established by force, its occupants one after another owed their elevation to military insurrection, and to the assassination of their predecessors. We find, nevertheless, that Christians never meddled with the question of legitimacy; they respected the established power, and this power failing, they submitted without murmuring to the new tyrant who had usurped the throne." This argument, it cannot be denied, is very plausible, and presents at first sight a serious difficulty; a few reflections, however, suffice to show its extreme futility. In order that an insurrection against an unlawful power may be legitimate and prudent, those who undertake to overturn it should be sure of its illegitimacy, should have in view the substitution of a lawful power, and should count besides on the probability of the success of their enterprise. If these conditions are not fulfilled, the insurrection has no object; it is a mere fruitless attempt, an impotent revenge, which, instead of being useful to society, only causes bloodshed, only irritates the power attacked, and can have in consequence no other effect than to increase oppression and tyranny.
None of the conditions here mentioned were in existence at the time we are speaking of; all that upright men could do was quietly to resign themselves to the calamitous circumstances of the times, and by fervent prayer to implore the Almighty to take compassion on mankind.
When every thing was decided by force of arms, who could say whether such or such an emperor was lawfully established? Upon what rules was the imperial succession established? Where was legitimacy to be substituted for illegitimacy? Amongst the Romans – those vile, degraded beings, kissing the chains of the first tyrant who offered them food and games? In the worthless posterity of those illustrious patricians who formerly gave laws to the universe? Was it vested in the sons or in the family of some assassinated emperor, when the laws had not established hereditary succession, when the sceptre of the empire was at the disposal of the legions, when it frequently happened that the emperor, the victim of usurpation, had been himself merely a usurper, who had mounted to the throne over the corpse of his rival? Did it exist in the ancient rights of those conquered nations now reduced to simple dependencies of the empire, divested of all national spirit, having even lost the recollection of their former condition, without a thought capable of conducting them in the work of their emancipation, and destitute of resources against the colossal force of their masters? What object could any one have, under such circumstances, in making attempts against the established government? When the legions decided the fate of the world, alternately elevating and assassinating their masters, what could or what ought the Christian to do? The disciple of a God of peace and love, he could not take part in criminal scenes of bloodshed and tumult; authority was tottering and uncertain; it was not for him to decide whether it was legitimate or not; it only remained for him to submit to the power generally acknowledged, and at the arrival of one of those changes, at that time of so frequent occurrence, to yield the same obedience to the newly-established government.
The interference of Christians in political disputes would only have served to bring into disrepute the holy religion they professed; it would have given to philosophers and idolaters a pretext for increasing the catalogue of black calumnies which they everywhere brought against the faith. Public report accused Catholicity of being subversive of governments; Christians would have furnished a pretext for extending and accrediting this unfounded report, the hatred of governments would have been redoubled, and the rigors of persecution so cruelly exercised against the disciples of the cross would have been increased. Has this state of things ever existed but once, either in ancient or modern times? And could the conduct of the first Christians in this respect be made a rule for the Spaniards, for instance, at the time they resisted the usurpation of Bonaparte? Or could it be imitated by any other people in similar circumstances? Or will it be received as an argument in favor of every kind of usurpation? No; man, in becoming a Christian, does not cease to be a citizen, to be a man, to have his rights, and he acts in a praiseworthy manner whenever, within the bounds of reason and justice, he attempts to maintain these rights with fearless intrepidity.
Don Felix Amat, Archbishop of Palmyra, in his posthumous work entitled Idea of the Church Militant, makes use of these words: "Jesus Christ, by his plain and expressive answer, Render to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, has sufficiently established, that the mere fact of a government's existence is sufficient for enforcing the obedience of subjects to it." What I have already advanced is enough, in my opinion, to show the fallacy of such an assertion; and, as I intend to revert to this subject, and investigate more attentively this author's opinion, and the reasons upon which he supports it, I shall not now attempt to enter upon its refutation. I will, nevertheless, make one observation, which occurred to me on reading the passages in which the Archbishop of Palmyra developes it. His work was forbidden at Rome; and whatever may have been the motives for such a prohibition, we may rest assured that, in the case of a book advocating such doctrines, every man who is jealous of his rights might acquiesce in the decree of the Sacred Congregation.
As the opportunity is favorable, we may make a few remarks upon consummated facts, which are so closely connected with the doctrine under discussion. Consummated implies something perfect in its kind; hence an act is consummated when it has attained its completion. This word, applied to crimes, is opposed to mere attempt. We say an attempt at robbery, murder, or arson, when the undertaking to commit these crimes has been manifested by some act; for instance, the lock of a door has been broken, an attack has been made with a murderous weapon, combustible matter has been ignited – but the crime is not said to be consummated till the robbery, murder, or arson has actually been committed. Hence, in a political and social sense, we designate consummated facts an usurpation, completely overthrowing the legitimate power, and by means of which the usurper is already substituted in its place; a measure executed in all its points; such as the suppression of the regular clergy in Spain, and the confiscation of their property to the treasury; a revolution which has been triumphant, and which has entirely disposed of a country, as was the case with our American possessions.
From this explanation, we see clearly that a fact does not, by being consummated, change its nature; it still remains a simple fact – just or unjust, legal or illegal – as it was before. The most horrible outrages may also be termed consummated facts; yet, for all that, they do not cease to deserve disgrace and punishment.
What, then, is the meaning of certain phrases continually uttered by some men? "We must respect consummated facts; we must always accept consummated facts; it is folly to resist consummated facts; it is a wise policy that yields to consummated facts." Far be it from me to assert that all those who establish these maxims, profess the fatal doctrines to which they give rise. We often admit principles, the consequences of which we reject; and point out a certain line of conduct as right, without attending to the abominable maxims in which it originates. In human affairs, good and evil, error and truth are so narrowly separated, and prudence so closely borders on culpable timidity, that in theory, as well as in practice, it is not always easy to remain within the bounds prescribed by reason and the eternal principles of sound morality. If respect for consummated facts is mentioned, perverse men immediately include in it the sanctioning of crime, the spoils of plunder secured to the robber, no hope of restitution left to the victims, and a gag put upon their mouths, to stifle their complaints. Others, I am aware, have no such design in making use of these words, but are the dupes of a confusion of ideas, arising from their not having distinguished between moral principles and public expediency. On this point, therefore, we must distinguish and define, which I will do in a few words.
The simple consummation of a fact does not render it legitimate; and, consequently, it is not on this account alone worthy of respect. The robber who has stolen does not acquire a right to the thing stolen; the incendiary who reduces a house to ashes is no less deserving of punishment, of being forced to make reparation, than if he had been arrested in the attempt. This is so evident and clear, that it cannot be called in question. To assert the contrary, is to become the enemy of all morality, of all justice, of all right; and to proclaim the exclusive rule of force and cunning. Consummated facts, appertaining to social and political order, do not change their nature; the usurper, who seizes upon the crown of his lawful predecessor; the conqueror, who, by mere force of arms, has subdued a nation, does not thereby acquire a right to its possession; the government, which by gross iniquities has despoiled entire classes of citizens, exacted undue contributions, abolished legitimate rights, cannot justify its acts by the simple fact of its having sufficient strength to execute these iniquities. That is equally evident; and if there is here any difference at all, the crime is only the greater, from the greater gravity and extent of the wrongs committed, and of the scandal given to the public. Such are the principles of sound morality – individual morality, social morality; morality of the whole human race; immutable, eternal morality.
Let us now examine the question of public expediency. In some instances, a consummated fact, in spite of all its injustice, all its immorality and atrocity, acquires such an ascendency, that by not accepting it, or by being determined to destroy it, we should let loose a train of troubles and commotions, and perhaps without effect. Every government is bound to respect justice, and to act in such a manner that its subjects may also respect it; but it should not command what will not be obeyed, when it is deprived of the means of enforcing obedience. In such a case, we should not commit an injustice by not attacking the illegal interests, or by not endeavoring to obtain redress for the victims; the government, in such a case, may be compared to a man who, beholding robbers loaded with the fruit of their theft, is without the means of forcing them to make restitution. If you suppose an impossibility, what does it avail to say that the government is not a single individual, but a defender of all legitimate interests? No one is bound to impossibilities.
Observe, also, that this remark applies not only to a physical impossibility, but also to a moral one. Whenever, therefore, the government possesses the material means of obtaining reparation, a moral impossibility will be constituted, when the employing of those means would cause serious difficulties to the state, endanger the public peace, or sow the seeds of future insurrection. Order and public interest require the preference, for these are the primary objects of all government; consequently, that which cannot be accomplished without endangering them, ought to be considered as impossible. The application of these doctrines will always be a question of prudence, that cannot be subjected to any general rule. Depending as it does upon a thousand circumstances, it cannot be decided upon abstract principles; but by the consideration of existing facts, duly appreciated and considered by political tact. Such is the case of the respect due to consummated facts; the injustice of these facts is apparent; but we must not overlook their force. Not to attack them is not, necessarily, to sanction them. The legislator is bound to diminish the evil as far as possible; but not to risk an aggravation of it by attempting an impracticable reparation. As it is particularly injurious to society for great interests to remain insecure, and uncertain for the future, just means must be adopted, which, without occasioning complicity in the evil, may prevent the dangers of a doubtful situation, resulting from injustice itself. A just policy does not sanction injustice; but a wise policy never despises the importance of established facts. If such facts exist, and appear indestructible, it tolerates them; but without affording them the sanction of its participation or approval. Acting with dignity, it makes the best of difficulties; and in some sort allies the principles of eternal justice with the views of public expediency. We have a very striking case in point, which will place this matter in the clearest possible light. After the great evils, and the enormous acts of injustice perpetrated during the French Revolution, what possibility was there of making a complete reparation? In 1814, could every thing be restored to the position in which it stood in 1789? The throne overturned, all social distinctions levelled, and property broken up; who could reconstruct the ancient social edifice? No one.
Such is the respect to be entertained for consummated facts, which might be more properly termed indestructible ones. To illustrate my idea still further, I will give it a very simple exemplification. A proprietor, driven from his possessions by a powerful neighbor, has not the means of repossessing himself of them. He has neither wealth nor influence; and his spoliator abounds in both. If he have recourse to force, he will be vanquished; if to the tribunal, he will lose his cause; what, therefore, is he to do? To negotiate for an accommodation, to obtain what he can, and be resigned to his fate. This is all that can be said; and it is remarkable, that such are the principles adopted by governments. History and experience teach us, that consummated facts are respected when they are indestructible; that is, when they possess in themselves sufficient force to make them respected; in any other case, they are not so. And nothing is more natural. Whatever is not founded upon right, can only be maintained by force.32