Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America is commonly read as a historical novel that reflects on the governmental status of the United States in roughly the 1830s. In many ways, however, his analysis transcends its time period and is telling of American politics as it is today. In particular, his work is most relevant when only a few days before reading a particular section of his book, I found myself making the same observations and conclusions about American society that he had made nearly two centuries ago.
American history and government classes preach that the tyranny of the majority was always a concern for James Madison and individual rights activists. Yet, when the founding fathers sought to protect the governmental rights of individuals, they somehow missed, to my knowledge, the psychological suppression by the majority that is almost impossible to regulate. However, Tocqueville observed the oppression of original and independent thought in America. Tocqueville didn’t have to tell me that the majority rule suppresses originally, though. I saw it myself only a few days ago and just about every day when I really reflect on the phenomenon.
I attended the Texas Tribune Festival over one weekend and on the last day of the festival, the CEO Evan Smith remarked that he was glad all the attendees were exposing themselves to all the different panels and continuing political discussions beyond the rooms in which the panels were held. He seemed to be remarking on the spread of new knowledge, yet it was obvious from talking to the attendees that most people went to the panels that they were the most interested in, and that, more or less, confirmed their particular biases. Furthermore, because groups of people of similar interests were attending the same panels, the audiences were more prone to emotivism than listening to any opposing viewpoint. The audiences quickly become vocal and participant majorities.
One panel illustrated this point to me that weekend. I remember sitting on the second row to watch a one-on-one with Ted Cruz, and he was set to speak the day after he publicly endorsed Donald Trump after having encouraged Americans to “vote their conscience” a few months beforehand. The audience was unforgiving of (almost) everything he had said. Taking a few seconds every now and then to boo at Cruz’s responses and laugh/clap at questions posed to Cruz, the audience participation seemed to either encourage Cruz’s defying responses or restrict them. I remember sitting in the crowd and distinctively thinking that this panel revealed no truth about Cruz and the audience did not want to really hear any contradictory truth than the preconceived understanding they had already had in mind.
During the Q&A session, one girl asked Cruz how he could support a misogynistic candidate when Cruz had two young daughters and the audience erupted in applause. When the panel had ended and the audience was filing out of the room, my friend, who was attending the Festival with me, thanked the girl for asking her question. Some other people re-thanked the same girl upon hearing my friend. “I had to ask it,” she replied. I remember the stress being on the “I.” She had to ask the question. The reply felt like a good overall statement to the panel and Q&A. The audience was majority-pleasing, not enlightenment-seeking. The experience felt reaffirming, not new.
I went back home that night to watch the recording of the panel online. Being in the audience gave the one-on-one session a different experience than watching it online. It was more (although not entirely) void of audience participation. Once the majority was extracted from the panel experience, there was more understanding to be found. I was not as influenced by the majority around me since I was physically away from them. However, Cruz’s reception of the majority’s reactions still tainted the questioning and his answers. There was no real escape overall.
I think if Tocqueville were still alive he would make the same conclusions about the majority’s psychological suppression. I think he would still claim that it was harmful. I think he would claim that it is even more harmful because the majority’s opinions become fueled by emotivism in the face of opposition. Political contention and confrontation aren’t bad, though. They are what fuel intellectualism. They prevent stagnation. They help reveal truth. I think resisting majority psychological suppression is just as important today than it was during Tocqueville’s time.
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