What privileges do within the hierarchy, symbols do for
the rank and file. They conserve unity. From the totem pole to the
national flag, from the wooden idol to God the Invisible King, from
the magic word to some diluted version of Adam Smith or Bentham,
symbols have been cherished by leaders, many of whom were themselves
unbelievers, because they were focal points where differences merged.
The detached observer may scorn the "star-spangled" ritual which
hedges the symbol, perhaps as much as the king who told himself that
Paris was worth a few masses. But the leader knows by experience that
only when symbols have done their work is there a handle he can use to
move a crowd. In the symbol emotion is discharged at a common target,
and the idiosyncrasy of real ideas blotted out. No wonder he hates
what he calls destructive criticism, sometimes called by free spirits
the elimination of buncombe. "Above all things," says Bagehot, "our
royalty is to be reverenced, and if you begin to poke about it you
cannot reverence it." [Footnote: _The English Constitution,_ p.
127. D. Appleton & Company, 1914.] For poking about with clear
definitions and candid statements serves all high purposes known to
man, except the easy conservation of a common will. Poking about, as
every responsible leader suspects, tends to break the transference of
emotion from the individual mind to the institutional symbol.
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