The startling English by-elections of the last few weeks have called attention to the working of the new electorate in Great Britain and set men pondering about its possibilities in a way a general election failed to make them think. Democracy in the sense of government of a great state by the absolute and unfettered authority of the majority of its own citizens of all ranks and conditions is a modern experiment. The United States of America are the oldest democracy in the world to-day.

How many realise that Britain became a democracy for the first time in 1917? Until then the majority of its adult population had no voice in the making or administration of the laws that ruled their lives.

The United States of America, France and Italy have adopted universal suffrage as the basis of authority for many a year. So have the British Dominions, but Britain herself, the pioneer of representative institutions, until recently shrank from the experiment of adult suffrage. Before the Reform Act of 1832 the total electorate of this country numbered only 3 per cent. of the population. The distribution of power amongst this small percentage was so arranged that even the 3 per cent. represented in effect no more than at best 1 per cent.

A generation of turmoil and agitation, almost culminating in revolution, succeeded in forcing through a measure which increased the 3 per cent. to 4.5 per cent. of the population! It is true that the distribution of votes was more equitable, but even with that improvement to call this ridiculous percentage a democracy would be absurd. Another generation of growing agitation ensued. This also ended in violence. Then Mr. Disraeli, one of the boldest and most venturesome of British statesmen, in 1867 doubled the electorate. His measure increased the number of voters to 9 per cent. of the population.

Disraeli's audacious plunge horrified some of his aristocratic supporters and shocked many Whigs. "Bob" Lowe had already foretold calamities that would follow Gladstone's more cautious proposals. Seven years later saw the election of the first Tory parliament since 1841. So much for the prophecies of the men who always fear evil must flow from justice.

Fifteen years after the Disraeli measure the Gladstone administration added another 7 per cent. to the electorate. The Gladstone proposals, which raised the number of voters to 16 per cent., were so vehemently contested that they nearly precipitated a Constitutional crisis of the first magnitude. Ultimately, however, they were carried, and there the franchise remained until the war.

The electorate that, through its representatives, accepted the German challenge in 1914, and was therefore responsible for involving the country in the most costly and sanguinary war it ever waged, represented one-sixth of the population and about one-third of the adults. The conscription act converted the country to the injustice of this state of things. Millions of men were forced to risk their lives for a policy which they had no share in fashioning. Millions of women faced anxieties and tortures worse than death in pursuit of the same policy, and yet no woman was allowed to express any opinion as to the selection of the rulers who led them to this sacrifice.

It was felt to be so unjust that in the exaltation of war, which lifted men to a higher plane of equity, this obvious wrong was redressed. Hence the greatest of all the enfranchisement acts, the Act of 1917, that for the first time converted the British system of government into a democracy.

How has it worked? It is too early to speak of its results. Mr. Austen Chamberlain in a letter[10] has called attention to one aspect of its operation. He emphasises a fact which is already known to every man who has passed through the experience of a contested election, that nearly one-half the new electorate is unattached to any political party.

If you deduct out of the total the numbers of the old electorate which had already formed ties of a party character, you will find from the result of the elections that more than half the new electorate is free and floating about without any anchor or rudder and ready to be towed by the first party that succeeded in roping them. Millions of the new electors are too indifferent or too undecided about political issues to take sides at the polling booths.

In the hotly contested election of January, 1910, 92 per cent. of the voters went to the poll. At the second election which took place in the same year the percentage was 89. The slight difference between the two elections would be accounted for by the fact that in the second election the register was old. Compare these results with the two elections which have occurred since the 1917 enfranchisement. At the 1918 election 64 per cent. only of the voters could be induced to make the acquaintance of the ballot-boxes. This might be explained by the inevitable political apathy which follows a great war. The pulse of party beat feebly and irregularly. The old party organisations had, through five years of neglect, fallen into complete disrepair—the new party had not yet had time to perfect its machinery. Hence the failure of competitive effort to induce at least 6,000,000 of the new voters to take a sufficient interest in their new privileges to exercise them at the election.

The next four years were a period of growing political activity. The new party was especially energetic. Their chief organiser, Mr. Arthur Henderson, M.P., is one of the most gifted party managers of this generation, and his achievement is an outstanding feature of political organisation in this country. The old parties also had time to repair their machinery; by the time the election was called their organisations were in full working order. The only party which had no organisation worth speaking of was the National Liberal party. The others were ready for the struggle.

Nevertheless, when the election came in November nearly 5,000,000 of the electors were not sufficiently interested in the contest to take the trouble to record their votes. It showed an improvement of 10 per cent. on the previous election, but there still remained nearly 20 per cent.—making allowance for death, sickness, removals, etc.—who stayed at home, and could not be persuaded by personal or public appeal or pressure exercised by three or four great organisations, to walk a few hundred yards out of their way in order to place a simple cross on the ballot paper that was awaiting them.

The municipal elections tell a still more dismal story of apathy. But that is an old story. It was with difficulty that the old electorate, with all its long training, could be cajoled to visit the polling booths where the good government of the towns in which they breathed, lived, toiled, enjoyed themselves, and rested was being determined. At their worst, however, they made a better show than the newly enfranchised voters.

How does the record compare with democracy in other lands? France is no better. On the whole, I understand it is worse. The voting in the United States of America fluctuates according to the interest excited by the particular election. In this respect America does not differ from Britain. I cannot lay my hand on the percentage of the poll at the last presidential election, but I gather it was higher than ours at the general election. The Germans polled at their last election 89 per cent. of their electorate; in Italy the percentage was much lower.

With an unpolled and unticketed electorate of over 4,000,000 anything may happen. They have clearly no interest in the ordinary political conflicts that engage the minds of their fellow-citizens; otherwise, the excitement of two general elections would have roused them to such faint exhibition of partisanship as is implied in the choosing of a candidate out of the two or three who have taken the trouble to send along their pictures.

But one day an issue may arise which will wake up the most lethargic. What will it be? And what view will they take of it when it comes? And who will succeed in catching the eye of the slumbering multitude when it opens? Much depends on the answer to these questions. They may rally to the defence of property menaced by rapacious creeds. They may rush to the protection of their homes threatened by avaricious wealth.

Even those who have already voted are liable to sudden and devastating changes of opinion. Witness Mitcham, Willesden, and Edgehill. These three seats were regarded as being amongst the safest in England, and were selected for that very reason.

Amongst many disquieting factors there is one which ought to be dealt with ere another election arrive. Under the present system a minority of electors may usurp absolute dominion over the fortunes of this kingdom for fully five years.

This is one of the freaks of the group system. The present parliamentary majority has been elected by an aggregate vote which represents something a little better than one-fourth of the total electorate and one-third of those who recorded their votes. If Mitcham and Edgehill are a foretaste of what is to happen at the "General," Labour will be the lucky third. A similar turnover of votes in every constituency would place them easily in that position.

America has brought its vast electorate under what seems to us to be a perfect discipline. But in the process it has passed through much tribulation, including the furnace of a terrible civil war. Italy has been impelled to correct the working of democratic institutions by a display of force. Britain may mobilise and drill its electoral forces with less trouble. But it has a Socialist party, which has grown by millions within less than a decade—and is still growing. This week its most eloquent member has proposed, in the House of Commons, a solemn motion for the abolition of private property. Deputies chosen by four and a quarter million of British electors will vote for this proposal, and if, four years hence, they add another million and a half to their poll, they will be in a position to place that motion on the statute book. Their increase between 1918 and 1922 was greater than that.