The stock-market terminology applied to the analysis of authoritarian structures only seems comic. In fact, it describes the state of affairs with extreme precision. The democratic common sense of our Yankee rebels precisely because he evaluates the situation from the point of view of a political culture inherited from his Puritan forebears, who wrote it into the constitution of the state of Connecticut that "all political power is inherent in the people, and . . . they have
Let us assume for a moment, however, that our Yankee had visited not the kingdom of King Arthur, but the land of Pharaoh Rameses or Sultan Bajazet. Far from waxing indignant over what the "irreplaceable six" would reply to a proposal that "the form of government be changed," he would be struck by the fact that the thought would not enter anyone's mind. To drown the sultan is an excellent idea, and to strangle the tax-collector or the wazir is still better. But to change the form of government? Unthinkable!
In order for this to become not only conceivable, but necessary, a cultural tradition, independent means of subsistence, sophisticated political thought, inherited aristocratic privileges, and a political opposition are all needed—in short, everything which gives rise to latent limitations on power. And this is the essence of the political culture generated by absolutism.
Of course, the presence of these limitations is not sufficient in itself immediately to bring about a new deal. The constitution which determines the Connecticut Yankee's Weltanschauung did not fall from heaven. It was won in the mud and blood of revolution and reaction, religious revolts, terror and desperation, trade, slavery, and wars. As such, it is a certificate of the maturity of the political culture of its creators—testimony to successful completion of the elementary school of political history and their ability to transform latent limitations on power into open political control of the system over the administration.
Just as an individual becomes a personality only when he is able to choose his own fate autonomously, so a human collectivity becomes a people only when it learns to limit the authority of the administration and thereby to affect the fate of its country. From this moment, the people may begin to realize that not only the sultan or the pharaoh, but the "form of government" itself does not suit them particularly well. And does this not mean, perhaps, that neither pharaohs nor sultans nor chairmen of people's republics nor general secretaries of parties are needed?
It is precisely in this—the gradual accumulation of limitations on power transformed into a cultural tradition—that political progress consists, in my opinion. And political progress itself, from the viewpoint being offered here, can be interpreted as the history of the birth, maturation, and stabilization of latent limitations on power— of their
Let us now see whether either of our "ideal constructions" describes Russian political history.[29]