the elevation of a caudillo to the throne,5 but none of these things will be the effect of public opinion, but rather “the echo of seduction, the cry of the scoundrels and whores who will climb higher, as a famous journalist explains, the better the coryphaeuses of the factions have paid them.”6
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The most essential character of public opinion is liberty. Human understanding is the power most jealous of its independence, it does not bear fetters; to want to put them on things that are subject to its ability is the greatest and most intolerable tyranny. This quality of public opinion is deduced from the definition of its essence in the same way as the previous one. Can there be opinion in the particular individual when he is not allowed to reflect and if he does not have all the freedom necessary to weigh the reasons that have to resolve it? Surely not; for his opinion must always be the fruit of a calm reflective meditation; and even regarding faith, although he cannot reflect on its immediate object, he should do so on the foundations of credibility; therefore if public opinion is nothing other than the coming together of individual opinions, it is necessary to acknowledge that there is not, nor can there be, public opinion when it does not exist, and about objects relative to which there is not liberty.
Infer from this that, in a time of bloody factions, during which not only is it not lawful to say what one thinks but not even to think in a way other than what suits the coryphaeus of the dominant faction; that when the sobriquets of seditious, enemy of the patria, and others of this sort that are maliciously invented on such occasions emerge with all the retinue of calumnies, abuses, and satires to stifle the voices that do not agree to be echoes of the powerful faction; and above all, that when the government declares itself for one of the factions, the allegation public opinion is to present an illusion beyond all reality. No, there is not such public opinion, because there has not been freedom to create it. On the contrary, true public opinion will be stifled; it will triumph in the long run, and the same people will take revenge for it on their oppressors; but in the meantime it does not exist, nor can it be alleged.
Well-known writers, particularly when they speak of the benefits of freedom of the press, consider public papers as a sure thermometer for knowing public opinion, and this is one of the benefits with which they most extol that institution. No, we will not deny an assertion so authoritative and rational; but unfortunate experiences cause us to assert that, to apply it without immediate fear of error, some criticism is needed.
Of course, public papers do not make law in the countries where the power to publish thoughts by means of printing is not free; but let us note that that is proven true not only where despotism subjects writers to prior censorship, but also where one hinders writing by direct or indirect
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means, unless it is in a specified way. What does it matter that the constitution of a country establishes freedom to publish ideas if a dominant faction will manage with certainty to ruin anyone who writes against its interest? What does it matter that that liberty is guaranteed, establishing that writings can be judged only by individuals chosen by the people, who, it is supposed, will vote for those of greater education and probity, if the spirit of faction alone manages to preside over the election, making it fall to the members most attached to it, and that as a consequence, they will let pass neither a statement nor a truth that hurts the faction? This happens few times in popular governments and in which the laws of election are well thought out, but it happens, and when the circumstance arises, freedom of the press is nominal. It should be able but cannot say what it thinks; the fear of persecution and punishments silences most of the citizens. Few are those who have all the courage necessary to speak the truth but almost never with impunity. We say, then, that when there is no true freedom of the press, be it in one way or another, public opinion cannot be deduced from public papers, which of course must express only the judgment of the tyrant, be this an absolute king, a vizier, or a popular faction. Public papers can be a thermometer of public opinion when they can produce it, should it not be formed, and when, of the qualities we have determined public opinion to have and to serve as a mark to recognize it when it does exist, are derived directly those that the papers must have in order to produce or show it. In truth, if public opinion must be and cannot be less than the free and spontaneous outcome of calm reflective meditation on the solid foundations that persuade one of a truth, almost always practical and generally simple and perceptible, papers will produce public opinion only if they were written in complete freedom, with simplicity, impartiality, firmness, and circumspection, showing what they are trying to prove, not threatening and forcing what is to be believed; letting reason speak through them and time mature their assertions, not presenting a scimitar to cut off heads that do not bow at their voice. When the writers of a nation, or the greater part of them, especially journalists, see themselves as respecting these qualities in what they produce, and they discover uniformity regarding some assertion, they can believe they will establish public opinion, and they can believe that they speak the truth if they announce that it now exists. On the other hand, if the nation is divided into bloody factions, villainous writers sell themselves, dipping their pens in blood
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and black bile, hurling sarcasms and threats, shamefully tearing away the always respectable veil of domestic mysteries, then neither is there public opinion, nor can the writers produce it, nor can it be known through the writings. “A writer,” says the judicious journalist already cited,
who provokes the struggle of the factions, who shows himself attached to one of them, who wants to tyrannize public opinion, lavishing insults on those who do not think as he, or silencing them by means of threats, is a man who presages despotic dispositions; he is a man unworthy of the esteem and confidence of a nation that aspires to liberty and that knows that the most sacred right is that of thought. Much more odious must be those who, in their writings, images of their atrocious souls, sow calumnies and satires against the virtuous citizen who is not of their faction and try to make those who differ from them in their public opinions look like enemies of the nation. . . . Where there are certain favorite errors of a dominant faction against which it is not lawful to speak, where it is not lawful to discuss even truths themselves, there is no public opinion.
We dwelled on this third question more than we intended, but its importance excuses us, and let us now proceed to gather the fruit in the resolution of the fourth.
Is there always an obligation to submit oneself to public opinion and the general will?
We have already indicated that, whenever there are existing parties, popular factions, an inability to base a measure or resolution that one desires in solid arguments and in the eternal principles of equity and justice, the defenders appeal to public opinion; they cry out as loud as they can, the people want this, the people desire that, and always the clamoring faction tries to identify with the generality of the nation, secure in obtaining its aims or, at least, of imposing them.
“Let us distinguish carefully the popular voice from public opinion: the first is formed with the same ease as the clouds of spring, but with the same ease it vanishes. It is produced by violence, terror, factions, ignorance, a thousand other accidental causes that can be destroyed by opposing interests. . . . [T]he cries of a people deceived or subdued by
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terror are not public opinion; they are their ephemeral and false images, invented by the power and perfidy to delude the nations.”7 In confirmation of truths so undeniable, we need nothing more than to remember the multitude of contradictory cries, unjust and of all manner that, with the greater appearance of universal, we have heard through the streets of Mexico since 1808 amidst the clamoring of the bells, the noisy din of artillery, etc., etc., demanding first . . . and then . .
