Posts Tagged ‘Thomas Jefferson’

Philadelphia Story: Professor Ellis on Constitutional Compromise

Sunday, July 18th, 2010

From American Heritage.com

President James Madison served as the second R...

Madison

Without major compromises by all involved and the agreement to avoid the contentious issue of slavery, the framers would never have written and ratified the Constitution

By Joseph J. Ellis

In September 1789, at the end of the Constitutional Convention, James Madison wrote in dismay to his old friend Thomas Jefferson, who was an ocean away in Paris. “I hazard an opinion,” he lamented, “that the plan should it be adopted will neither effectively answer the national object nor prevent the local mischiefs which everywhere excite disgust against the state governments.”

Madison had come to Philadelphia four months earlier determined to create a fully empowered national government designed to replace the state-based system under the Articles of Confederation. Despite his own best efforts, however, the delegates to the convention, so he thought, had proved unequal to the task, producing a document that finessed the core issues behind a veneer of willfully ambiguous compromises. Madison regarded these political accommodations as loose knots that would soon unravel, predicting that the Constitution would be lucky to last a decade.

At the same time, Benjamin Franklin was expressing his own frustration with the document’s final draft but doing so in an upbeat tone that contrasted sharply with Madison’s stark sense of failure. No one—and certainly not Madison—could turn a phrase as deftly as Franklin, and his open-ended verdict was a classic statement of political wisdom in the wait-and-see mode:

I confess that I do not entirely approve of this Constitution at present: but, Sir, I am not sure I shall never approve it; for having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged, by better information or fuller consideration, to change my opinion even on important subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise . . . Thus I consent, Sir, to this Constitution, because I expect no better and because I am not sure that it is not the best.

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Michael Barone Speech to JMC SI Featured In “The American”

Wednesday, July 14th, 2010

Michael Barone’s address to the 2010 Jack Miller Center Summer Institute in Charlottesville, Virginia was cited as the inspiration for Mr. Barone’s most recent article in “The American,” the journal of the American Enterprise Institute:

We are once again—as in the days of the early republic and not in the heyday of the Progressives and the New Dealers—a republic of property owners.

“No person shall…be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law.” So reads a portion of the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, part of the Bill of Rights passed by the First Congress and ratified by state legislatures, sponsored originally by Thomas Jefferson’s friend and political ally James Madison. It echoed, of course, Jefferson’s words in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
Madison and Jefferson followed the tradition of John Locke, the British philosopher whose Two Treatises on Government was taken as the justification for the transfer of power known as the Glorious Revolution of 1688-89—the subject of my 2007 book, Our First Revolution: The Remarkable British Upheaval That Inspired America’s Founding Fathers. Locke believed that men could be free only if their lives, liberty, and property were protected by the rule of law. And he believed that only men with property could be relied on to self-govern.
Locke, therefore, thought that the responsibility for choosing legislators in representative government should be limited to property owners, as it was in elections to the House of Commons. In English counties, the franchise was limited to 40-shilling freeholders—owners of property that brought in two pounds a year. The franchise in the more numerous boroughs was limited in different ways, in some cases to the owners of specific pieces of property.
The American people, the property-owning majority, even in this time of economic distress, seem to be embracing instead a culture of independence, a culture as old as the republic itself.
The Founders anticipated a limited but broader franchise in America. They provided that senators should be chosen by legislatures, whose members were typically selected by a large electorate, and that members of the House should be chosen by voters with “the qualifications requisite for electors of the most numerous branch of the state legislature.”
The Founders had different ideas of the worthiness of commerce. Jefferson envisioned a republic of freeholding egalitarian farmers. Alexander Hamilton envisioned a republic on the path toward commercial and industrial preeminence. But Jefferson’s vision was a more accurate picture of the United States in the early years of the republic, where land was plentiful and labor scarce, where the large majority of white men were farmers and most of them owned the land they worked.
In this freeholders’ republic, it was natural to move toward universal manhood suffrage, to allow every white male adult to vote. Some states took longer than others to reach this goal—South Carolina still had the legislature choose its presidential electors until 1860. But the principle was widely accepted elsewhere: since almost everyone owned property, everyone should be allowed to vote. There was a danger, recognized by Alexis de Tocqueville in the 1830s, that the poor would vote to strip the rich of their wealth and, in President Obama’s words to Joe the Plumber, “Spread the wealth around.”
The New Deal was an attempt to freeze an economy, then in a downward spiral, into one place.
Tocqueville pointed to another danger as well, the danger of what he called “soft despotism,” in which a seemingly benevolent government would channel citizens into docile obedience like a herd of sheep. But that danger seemed distant, even to Tocqueville, in an America whose dominant and more populist party, Andrew Jackson’s Democrats, opposed government spending on public works projects and feared the power of a central bank.
Up through the end of the 19th century there did not seem to be a significant tension between universal democracy and property rights. The Founders’ vision prevailed.
A New Vision Based on Fear
But that was no longer the case in 1910. By then, another vision was being advanced, the vision of the Progressives—the vision of Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson, of political philosophers Herbert Croly and John Dewey.
The Progressives explicitly repudiated the Founders’ vision of limited government. They argued that government needed to redistribute property, to take money from one group of citizens to help others, and to regulate economic activity in ways previously considered unconstitutional. The Constitution, they said, was a “horse and buggy” document, suited perhaps to the simpler society of the 18th century, but dangerously out of date in a complex industrial society which could not expect ordinary citizens to make their way without government guidance and assistance. They were acting, they said, in the interests of the people. Their critics said they were acting out of hunger for power.
I want to advance another thesis: That they actually acted more out of fear than of benevolence. They feared revolution.
I want to advance another thesis: That Progressives actually acted more out of fear than of benevolence. They feared revolution.
They did not know what we know today: that revolution wasn’t going to occur in America, as it had so often in Europe (multiple times in France, in many European countries in 1848, and as recently as 1870-71). Revolution would transform Russia in 1917-18. In the chaos and violence that followed World War I, Marxist revolts broke out in cities as productive and sophisticated as Munich and Budapest; Benito Mussolini’s fascists marched on Rome. The Progressives did not take the Marxist view that revolution was inevitable, but they certainly believed it was possible; Theodore Roosevelt was quite explicit about this threat. And they believed it a serious menace, as avowedly Marxist socialist parties gained millions of adherents in the expanding electorates of Europe.
The Challenges of Urbanity
This is understandable if we go back to 1910, and look at the America the Progressives faced. It was increasingly an urban country with an increasingly industrial economy, a country where great masses of people did not own significant amounts of property.
The United States in 1910 had 92 million people—it would pass the 100 million mark in 1915. This seems like a small number to us, living in a nation of 310 million, but it was an enormous multitude to the Americans of that time, a huge increase over the 3.9 million recorded in the first Census just 120 years before, in 1790.
Alexis de Tocqueville pointed to another danger as well, the danger of what he called “soft despotism,” in which a seemingly benevolent government would channel citizens into docile obedience like a herd of sheep.
It was an America with huge and rapidly growing cities. New York City had 4.8 million people in 1910, nearly half of them in Manhattan—almost a million more than live there today—and half of those lived south of 14th Street. The subways were being built that would spread the city out in the next decade to Brooklyn and the Bronx, each of which gained more than half a million people in the decade, during which the population of New York City rose to 5.6 million. Behind New York in 1910 were Chicago with 2.2 million, Philadelphia with 1.5 million, and St. Louis, Boston, Cleveland, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, and Detroit each with about half a million or more. Altogether, one out of eight Americans lived in these nine cities, America was rapidly moving to a time—reached by the 1920 Census—when a majority lived in cities.
And these cities were filling up with immigrants. In the 1900-1910 decade, America grew from 76 million to 92 million and welcomed some 9 million immigrants. Four million more would arrive in the next four years. More than half of America’s population growth came from immigrants, and for the first time many came from Eastern and Southern Europe, the vast majority of whom settled in big cities. It was a time when America’s giant factories employed great masses of immigrants. Henry Ford’s Highland Park plant was churning out hundreds of thousands of Model Ts—and Ford was organizing English and civics lessons for his workers, many of whom had little command of English.
In America, most farmers owned their farms. But most city dwellers did not own significant property at all. Most city residents rented rather than owned their homes; they cashed their paychecks for cash rather than have bank accounts; they depended on charity if they became disabled or widowed. It was the America of Theodore Dreiser’s Sister Carrie—a very hard America (as I used the term in my 2004 book, Hard America, Soft America), an America with plenty of competition and accountability, but which could be very unforgiving of mistakes and misfortunes. Millions made their way upwards, but most never accumulated significant wealth. They lacked the stake in their communities and in the larger society that property provides.
The Obama Democrats came to power with an assumption that in times of economic distress Americans would be more amenable to or supportive of big government programs.
For the Progressives, this was scary. Who could tame the urban masses? The post-Civil War politicians who built Fort Sheridan and Great Lakes Naval Station located them near Chicago to stamp out revolution if it came. And indeed there was rioting in the streets of Chicago during the Pullman strike of 1893, when President Grover Cleveland superseded the governor of Illinois and mobilized federal troops.
The Progressives and their progeny, the New Dealers—whether acting out of benevolence, hunger for power, or fear—were paternalistic; but they were also precautionary. Give the masses work relief, Social Security, deposit insurance, a floor on wages and prices, they thought, and the masses will not revolt or be attracted to the totalitarian faiths advancing in the Old World—the Communism that many intellectuals championed, the fascism that Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote was “the wave of the future.”
The Progressives argued that economic freedoms were unimportant because ordinary people, lacking property, didn’t really have much economic freedom anyway. As such, property rights must be subordinated to human rights. It was better to guarantee people education, healthcare, food, housing—the domestic programs that Franklin Roosevelt advanced as victory in World War II neared in 1944 and 1945. Economic growth was a secondary concern at best. Roosevelt seems to have believed, as many Americans did at the time, that the era of economic growth was over and that the postwar years would see a return to economic depression. In any case, he was clearly focused on economic redistribution rather than growth.
The New Deal was an attempt to freeze an economy, then in a downward spiral, into one place. It envisaged not growth but stasis. It was widely believed that capitalism had failed and economic growth was a thing of the past.
Misreading History and the Progressive Overreach
Today we have a presidential administration and a congressional leadership which consciously seeks to expand the size and scope of government in the tradition set out by the Progressives and New Dealers. They came to power assuming that in times of economic distress Americans would be more amenable to or supportive of big government programs. This was a lesson they absorbed directly or secondhand from the great New Deal historians Arthur Schlesinger Jr. and James McGregor Burns, and from Franklin Roosevelt himself.
Progressives argued that government needed to redistribute property, to take money from one group of citizens to help others, and to regulate economic activity in ways previously considered unconstitutional.
But as I argued in my 1990 book, Our Country: The Shaping of America from Roosevelt to Reagan, and as Amity Shlaes argues differently in her book on the 1930s, The Forgotten Man, those lessons were misleading. It’s true that American voters in the 1934 and 1936 elections endorsed the policies of Franklin Roosevelt’s first term. But as the 1930s went on, opinion shifted. By 1937, most Americans opposed Roosevelt’s plan to pack the Supreme Court and were repelled by the sit-down strikes that resulted in unionizing the auto and steel industries. Majorities favored reducing government spending and controls, limiting the power of labor unions, and paring welfare programs—this was when the word “boondoggling” was added to the English language.
It is true that Roosevelt was re-elected in 1940 and that Democrats retained majorities in Congress. But polling suggests that if the 1940 election had been decided on domestic issues, the Republicans would have won. Roosevelt was nominated for a third term weeks after the fall of France, when Hitler and Stalin and Imperial Japan were allies in command of most of the land-mass of Eurasia—the closest the world has ever come to George Orwell’s vision in 1984. Roosevelt was an experienced and tested leader; the Republican candidate, though talented, was a former utility executive who had never held public office and had no experience in foreign or military affairs.
Most Americans have accumulated—or will, during the course of their working years, accumulate— significant amounts of wealth.
The Obama Democrats today believe they have progressed toward the goals Roosevelt outlined for domestic policy in his last year as president, and are puzzled by the adverse public reaction to their programs. But the America we live in is a very different country from the America the Progressives and New Dealers knew and, in part, because of the impact of some of the public policies set in place by the New Dealers and their opponents.
Those policies—as modulated by the Republican Congress in 1947 and 1948, which eliminated wage and price controls, cut taxes, limited the powers of labor unions, and rejected public housing programs—helped to produce the postwar prosperity which neither the New Dealers nor their political opponents predicted. The housing policies of the New Deal helped to make a majority of Americans homeowners while the bipartisan G.I. Bill of Rights, shaped in large part by the American Legion, enabled millions to attend college. These policies helped produce the postwar prosperity that neither Roosevelt’s admirers nor most of his opponents anticipated.
And when macroeconomic policies produced the stagflation of the 1970s, politicians, Democratic as well as Republican, embraced deregulation, which squeezed out huge costs in transportation and communication. This reduced the costs of life’s necessities, which enabled more Americans to accumulate significant wealth over a working lifetime.
John Locke believed that men could be free only if their lives, liberty, and property were protected by the rule of law. And he believed that only men with property could be relied on to self-govern.
We live now in a moment where it is clear that some of these policies went too far. Policies to increase homeownership helped produce the housing-price crash of 2007. Poorly understood innovations in finance led to the financial crisis of 2008. The resulting recession is painful and is, I believe, being prolonged by the economic policies of the Obama Democrats.
But the fact is that we are once again, as in the days of the early republic and not in the heyday of the Progressives and the New Dealers, a republic of property owners. Most Americans have accumulated—or will, during the course of their working years, accumulate— significant amounts of wealth. And that is why, I believe, American voters seem to be rejecting the policies of the Obama Democrats. Those policies, rooted in the Progressive and New Deal tradition, are designed to encourage a culture of dependence. It is the “soft despotism” of which Tocqueville warned us 175 years ago. The American people, the property-owning majority, even in this time of economic distress, seem to be embracing instead a culture of independence, a culture as old as the republic itself.
The major political development of the last 17 months has been an inrush of hundreds of thousands or even millions of Americans into political activity, an inrush symbolized by but not limited to the tea party movement. It is fascinating to me that the tea partiers have adopted the language and in some cases even the costumes of the Founders. While the Progressives’ descriptions of a “horse and buggy” Constitution and their sense that giant auto factories and steel mills were the harbinger of the future seem tinny and out of date, the language of the Founders continues to resonate with the clear timbre of a silver spoon tapping a crystal glass. The majority of the American people seem to firmly agree with the Founders’ insistence that no one should be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law. And so we can take satisfaction that most of our fellow citizens in our freeholders’ republic still hold these truths to be self-evident.
This article is based on a speech delivered at the Jack Miller Center Summer Institute, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Virginia.

“No person shall…be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law.” So reads a portion of the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, part of the Bill of Rights passed by the First Congress and ratified by state legislatures, sponsored originally by Thomas Jefferson’s friend and political ally James Madison. It echoed, of course, Jefferson’s words in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Madison and Jefferson followed the tradition of John Locke, the British philosopher whose Two Treatises on Government was taken as the justification for the transfer of power known as the Glorious Revolution of 1688-89—the subject of my 2007 book, Our First Revolution: The Remarkable British Upheaval That Inspired America’s Founding Fathers. Locke believed that men could be free only if their lives, liberty, and property were protected by the rule of law. And he believed that only men with property could be relied on to self-govern.

Locke, therefore, thought that the responsibility for choosing legislators in representative government should be limited to property owners, as it was in elections to the House of Commons. In English counties, the franchise was limited to 40-shilling freeholders—owners of property that brought in two pounds a year. The franchise in the more numerous boroughs was limited in different ways, in some cases to the owners of specific pieces of property.

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Jefferson changed ’subjects’ to ‘citizens’ in Declaration of Independence

Sunday, July 4th, 2010

By Marc Kaufman from The Washington Post

“Subjects.”

That’s what Thomas Jefferson first wrote in an early draft of the Declaration of Independence to describe the people of the 13 colonies.

But in a moment when history took a sharp turn, Jefferson sought quite methodically to expunge the word, to wipe it out of existence and write over it. Many words were crossed out and replaced in the draft, but only one was obliterated.

Over the smudge, Jefferson then wrote the word “citizens.”

No longer subjects to the crown, the colonists became something different: a people whose allegiance was to one another, not to a faraway monarch.

Scholars of the revolution have long speculated about the “citizens” smear — wondering whether the erased word was “patriots” or “residents” — but now the Library of Congress has determined that the change was far more dramatic.

Using a modified version of the kind of spectral imaging technology developed for the military and for monitoring agriculture, research scientists teased apart the mystery and reconstructed the word that Jefferson banished in 1776.

“Seldom can we re-create a moment in history in such a dramatic and living way,” Library of Congress preservation director Dianne van der Reyden said at Friday’s announcement of the discovery.

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Founding Amateurs?

Wednesday, May 5th, 2010

Jack Miller Teaching Fellow, Gordon Wood, contributed an Op-Ed piece to the New York Times on 5/2/2010

By Gordon Wood

THE American public is not pleased with Congress — one recent poll shows that less than a third of all voters are eager to support their representative in November. “I am not really happy right now with anybody,” a woman from Decatur, Ill., recently told a Washington Post reporter. As she considered the prospect of a government composed of fledgling lawmakers, she noted: “When the country was founded, those guys were all pretty new at it. How bad could it be?”

Actually, our founders were not all that new at it: the men who led the revolution against the British crown and created our political institutions were very used to governing themselves. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Samuel Adams and John Adams were all members of their respective Colonial legislatures several years before the Declaration of Independence. In fact, these Revolutionaries drew upon a tradition of self-government that went back a century or more. Virginians ran their county courts and elected representatives to their House of Burgesses. The people of Massachusetts gathered in town meetings and selected members of the General Court, their Colonial legislature.

Of course, women, slaves and men without property could not vote; nevertheless, by the mid-18th century roughly two out of three adult white male colonists could vote, the highest proportion of voters in the world. By contrast, only about one in six adult males in England could vote for members of Parliament.

If one wanted to explain why the French Revolution spiraled out of control into violence and dictatorship and the American Revolution did not, there is no better answer than the fact that the Americans were used to governing themselves and the French were not. In 18th-century France no one voted; their Estates-General had not even met since 1614. The American Revolution occurred when it did because the British government in the 1760s and 1770s suddenly tried to interfere with this long tradition of American self-government.

Of course, a deep distrust of political power, especially executive power, had always been a part of this tradition of self-government. Consequently, when the newly independent Americans drew up their Revolutionary state constitutions in 1776, most states generally limited the number of years their annually elected governors could successively hold office.

“A long continuance in the first executive departments of power or trust is dangerous to liberty,” declared the Maryland Constitution. “A rotation, therefore, in those departments is one of the best securities of permanent freedom.” In addition to specifying term limits for its plural executive, the radical Pennsylvania Constitution of 1776 required that after four annual terms even the assemblymen would have to give way to a new set of legislators so they would “return to mix with the mass of the people and feel at their leisure the effects of the laws which they have made.”

At the same time, the Articles of Confederation also provided that no state delegate to the Congress could serve more than three years out of six.

In the decade after the Declaration of Independence, however, many American leaders had second thoughts about what they had done amid the popular enthusiasm of 1776. Since many of the state legislatures were turning over roughly 50 percent of their membership annually and passing a flood of ill-drafted and unjust legislation, stability and experience seemed to be what was most needed.

As a consequence, many leaders in the 1780s proposed major changes to their constitutional structures, including the abolition of term limits. In Pennsylvania, reformers eliminated rotation in office on the grounds that “the privilege of the people in elections is so far infringed as they are thereby deprived of the right of choosing those persons whom they would prefer.”

The new federal Constitution, itself a reaction to the excessive populism of 1776, also did away with any semblance of term limits, much to the chagrin of Thomas Jefferson and many others uneasy over the extraordinary power of the presidency. Jefferson thought that without rotation in office the president would always be re-elected and thus would serve for life. When he became president he stepped down after two terms and thus affirmed the precedent that Washington had established — a precedent finally made part of the Constitution by the 22nd Amendment in 1951.

Although federal term limits have been confined to the presidency, the fear of entrenched and far-removed political power, as the present anti-incumbency mood suggests, remains very much part of American popular culture. Yet precisely because we are such a rambunctious and democratic people, as the framers of 1787 appreciated, we have learned that a government made up of rotating amateurs cannot maintain the steadiness and continuity that our expansive Republic requires.

Gordon S. Wood, a professor emeritus of history at Brown, is the author, most recently, of “Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815.”

See Gordon Wood video on the American Founding Fathers.

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What Should the President Read?

Thursday, April 22nd, 2010

A recent Washington Post article gives a brief survey of Presidential reading lists from the John Adams till today:

John Adams’s library had more than 3,000 volumes — including Cicero, Plutarch and Thucydides — heavily inscribed with the president’s marginalia. Thomas Jefferson’s massive book collection launched him into debt and later became the backbone for the Library of Congress. “I cannot live without books,” he confessed to Adams. And it’s likely that no president will ever match the Rough Rider himself, who charged through multiple books in a single day and wrote more than a dozen well-regarded works, on topics ranging from the War of 1812 to the American West.

Library

Library

Needless to say, the type of books Presidents choose to read has changed through the generations, but the Washington Post is soliciting recommendations from readers for the current Oval Office bookshelf:

Readers’ choice: We want to hear which books you think should be at the top of President Obama’s reading list — and what problems that book would help him solve. Submit your nominations in the comments section of this article, and we’ll highlight the best ones on washingtonpost.com and in next week’s Outlook. If you want to be considered for publication in the newspaper, please include your full name and understand that we may contact you for verification purposes.

ttroy@hudson.org

Tevi Troy is a visiting senior fellow at the Hudson Institute and a former senior aide to President George W. Bush. He is the author of “Intellectuals and the American Presidency: Philosophers, Jesters or Technicians?”

What do you think an American President should read?

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Complete Federalist Papers Audio

Thursday, April 15th, 2010

A complete audio recording of the Federalist Papers is now available for free online through Americana Phonic. These high quality recordings by Michael Scherer are also available through Apple’s iTunes store. Listen to one paper at a time (85 separate recordings). The combined recording amounts to 20 hours and 30 minutes of audio.

Title page of the first printing of the Federa...

Jefferson's Federalist Papers

Listen to a sample here.

In addition to the Federalist Papers, Americana Phonic.com has recordings of the U.S. Constitution, The Declaration of Independence, Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address and more.

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From americanaphonic.com:

The year is 1787. America is a fledgling confederation of 13 colonies. A new Constitution has been written in Philadelphia, to replace the Articles of Confederation. Do you think that this new constitution should become the supreme law of the land? Vote: YES or NO The Federalists want you to vote yes. As America roils with intense debate on this fateful issue, a series of essays begin to appear in three New York newspapers, written by the mysterious persona Publius. These essays urge the American people to ratify the constitution, explaining and defending it in detail. After their debut in New York, the essays subsequently appeared in newspapers across the nation. We know today that Publius was actually three different people: Alexander Hamilton, John Jay and James Madison. Their painstaking efforts to explain and promote the United States Constitution have become a primary source for the interpretation and understanding of the highest law of the United States of America. Thomas Jefferson called the Federalist Papers the “best commentary on the principles of government which ever was written.” They are available in their entirety on this site, as 85 separate audio narrations.

See the complete Federalist Papers Audio.

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Pathway to the Founding

Sunday, April 11th, 2010

Jack Miller Center’s

Pathway to the Founding Online Essays

The Jack Miller Center has begun collecting online introductory essays and book recommendations for topics and themes that broaden understanding of the American Founding. These essays are designed as introductions to the intellectual and political life of American Statesman, our U.S. Constitutional heritage, and the ancient and modern thinkers the Founders drew upon when designing our system of free government.

According to Mike Ratliff, President of the Jack Miller Center, “These essays are intended to convey the richness of the American and Western political tradition, while at the same time presenting often complex ideas in accessible form.  The JMC staff has assembled a stellar list of contributors from many of our country’s leading scholars, and we look forward to seeing their reflections on the ideas and questions of perennial importance to life of a free society.” The essays will appear periodically on the Jack Miller Center website over the next year. A sample of featured essays includes:

Abraham Lincoln (Allen Guelzo, Gettysburg College)

Montesquieu (Thomas Pangle, University of Texas)

Thomas Jefferson (Jeremy Bailey, University of Houston)

James Madison (George Thomas, Claremont-McKenna College)

Adam Smith (Sandra Peart, Jepson School of Leadership)

The American Presidency (Benjamin Kleinerman, Michigan State University)

Benjamin Franklin (Lorraine Pangle, University of Texas)

Alexander Hamilton (Peter McNamara, Utah State University)

David Hume (Scott Yenor, Boise State University)

John Adams (Richard Samuelson, California State San Bernardino)

Publius, Federalist Papers (James Stoner, Louisiana State University)

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Alexander Hamilton GPS

Monday, March 22nd, 2010

A Jack Miller Center Pathway Essay

Cropped version of Thomas Jefferson, painted b...

Hamilton

“Alexander Hamilton: First Secretary of the Treasury; Soldier, Orator, Statesman, Champion of Constitutional Union, Representative Government and National Integrity.”

So reads the inscription at the base of the James Earle Fraser statue of Alexander Hamilton that stands on the south patio of the Treasury building in Washington D.C.  The statue portrays a young, vigorous, and confident Hamilton.  It is a fitting tribute to the complex and versatile man who worked so tirelessly for his adopted country.

On the more conspicuous north patio fronting Pennsylvania Avenue stands another Fraser statue, this one of Thomas Jefferson’s Treasury Secretary, Albert Gallatin.  The story behind these two statutes is told by Stephen Knott in his revealing book, Alexander Hamilton and the Persistence of Myth (Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 2002).  They are part of the larger story of Hamilton’s twentieth century fall from grace.  The statues are representative of the ideological battle that led to Hamilton’s marginalization in the public and scholarly eye as an allegedly authoritarian and militaristic presence at the Founding who was, so the story goes, finally vanquished by the Jeffersonian victory in 1800.  Knott shows how Progressives and Democrats, including FDR, not only sided with Jefferson but also saw the political merits of using Jefferson as a unifying national symbol.  Knott traces Hamilton’s ups and downs in the nineteenth century as well, making his work a much needed companion piece to Merrill Peterson’s The Jefferson Image in the American Mind.

Knott believes that Hamilton has been very unfairly treated since the first Jeffersonian ascendancy.  Only during the period of Republican dominance after the Civil War did Hamilton come close to receiving his due.  Knott exposes as false many of the still prevalent “myths” surrounding Hamilton, such as the claim he once referred to the people as a “great beast.”  Knott acknowledges that Hamilton was a controversial figure, whose views on democracy in particular were out of step with his own time and with ours, but suggests that “beneath his highly colored reputation, Hamilton was the most forward looking of the framers responsible in many ways for creating the innovative institutions that have flourished for over two centuries.”

Knott notes the positive trend in recent Hamilton scholarship.  This trend really began in the 1970s with fine and influential books by Gerald Stourzh and especially Forrest McDonald.  Ron Chernow’s massive 2004 biography of Alexander Hamilton (New York: Penguin Press, 2004) represents a splendid culmination of this trend.  Chernow masterfully tells the story of Hamilton’s prodigious accomplishments as Treasury Secretary, stressing Hamilton’s grasp of the essentials of a modern financial system.  Chernow may understate the extent to which Jefferson, hardly a Luddite, had a relatively coherent alternative vision of “capitalism” but he makes a compelling case that Hamilton’s grasp of economic fundamentals far exceeded his peers and rivals.  Chernow’s biography is notable also for the way in which in brings to life Hamilton the private man.  The Hamilton who was so warmly loved and admired by family and friends was polished in his manners, generous in his habits, and supremely engaging in company.  Chernow also provides a poignant portrait of Elizabeth, Hamilton’s devoted wife, who survived him by some fifty years.

Karl Walling’s impressive Republican Empire: Alexander Hamilton on War and Free Government (Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 1999) extends earlier work on Hamilton’s republicanism by Stourzh and Harvey Flaumenhaft.  Walling dispels the myth of Hamilton the monarchist by constructing a republican constitutional spectrum with “vigilance” and “responsibility” as its two poles.  Jeffersonian republicanism stressed popular vigilance as the key to the preservation of liberty, whereas Hamilton’s republicanism stressed the need create institutions that enhanced responsibility, the placing of power in one or a few hands to harness ambition and to increase accountability.   Walling focuses on Hamilton’s realization that a free government must be “fit for war” as well as “safe for liberty.”  On a related point, Walling shows, in his account of Hamilton’s strategic thinking in the late 1790s, that Hamilton’s assessment of the French threat was reasonable, thereby providing a rebuttal to the longstanding charge that Hamilton was a dangerous militarist who used the specter of France to amass an army that he intended to use to suppress Jeffersonian democracy.

No account of Hamilton would be complete without mention of the event that seems so incredible today: Aaron Burr, the sitting Vice-President of the United States, killing Hamilton, the former Secretary of the Treasury, in a duel.  It was once fashionable to discuss the duel in terms of Hamilton’s erratic personality or his fragile sense of self or even his death wish, all of which were traceable to his disordered childhood.  Joanne Freeman’s highly engaging Affairs of Honor: National Politics in the Early Republic (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2001) opens up a new and persuasive alternative.  The duel should not surprise us.  Duels were still common at the time and especially among military men such as Hamilton and Burr.  They were part of an elaborate culture of honor that held a gentleman’s reputation to be something worth preserving at all costs, including the risk of a duel.  Hamilton and Burr followed precisely the rituals of an affair of honor and when they could not resolve the matter to each other’s satisfaction they resorted to dueling pistols.  The goal of each party in such an affair was to prove his honor by showing his willingness to risk all.  It was not necessary to kill.  If there was a surprise in the duel at Weehawken, it is that Burr seems to have deliberately chosen to kill Hamilton.

These new perspectives on Hamilton have not only given us a new and more accurate account of Hamilton but they have also made possible a richer and more nuanced approach to the history and the political thought of the Founding period.  Hamilton will likely remain a controversial figure but there is no longer any excuse for using him as a mere villainous foil in the story of the rise of American democracy.

Peter McNamara teaches political theory at Utah State University. He specializes in early modern and American political thought.  He is the author of Political Economy and Statesmanship: Smith, Hamilton and the Foundation of the Commercial Republic and the editor of The Noblest Minds: Fame, Honor and the American Founding, and, most recently (with Louis Hunt), Liberalism, Conservatism and Hayek’s Idea of Spontaneous Order.

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The Most Partisan Election in American History

Thursday, March 11th, 2010

The Most Partisan Election in American History: Gordon Wood

After the most partisan election in the history of the United States of America, the new President made a direct appeal to the unique aspects of the American mind:

“During the contest of opinion through which we have passed the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think freely and to speak and to write what they think; but this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced according to the rules of the Constitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good.” (Thomas Jefferson, 1801)

The Jack Miller Center asked Pulitzer-Prize winning historian, Gordon S. Wood, to give us an historical perspective on the most divisive campaign in American history:

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Painting of Jefferson by Rembrandt Peale (1805)

Thomas Jefferson

In 1801 Thomas Jefferson had just been elected president after a hard-fought and bitter campaign between the Federalists and the Jeffersonian Republicans. It was in fact one of the most tumultuous and vicious electoral campaigns in American history. The Federalist press had tagged Jefferson with every epithet they could think of–a coward, a radical, an atheist, and, most alarming, the leader of a gang of Jacobins who were trying to take over the American government and make it a satellite of revolutionary France. For their part the Republicans gave as good as they got, accusing the Federalists of trying to foist an English-style monarchy on America. Never in American history has the press been as abusive and as vituperative as it was in the electoral campaign of 1800.

All this newspaper scurrility took place in the wake of the Sedition Act of 1798, by which the Federalist-controlled Congress had attempted to curb the Republican press’s vitriolic attacks on President John Adams and other Federalist leaders. The Federalists had become convinced that elective republican governments could not allow the press to abuse their political leaders and undermine their capacity to rule. How could John Adams exercise his authority as president if he were victimized, as he put it, by “the most envious malignity, the most base, vulgar, sordid, fish-woman scurrility, and the most palpable lies” that had ever been leveled against any public official?

Hence with the Sedition Act of 1798 the Federalists in Congress made it a federal crime to “write, print, utter or publish. . . any false, scandalous, and malicious writing”  that brought the president or members of Congress “into contempt or disrepute, or to excite against them, or either or any of them, the hatred of the good people of the United States.”

Americans believed in freedom of the press and had written that freedom into their Bill of Rights. But they believed in it as Englishmen did, who meant by it, in contrast to the French, no prior restraint or censorship of what was published. Under English law, people were nevertheless held responsible for what they published.  If a person’s publications were slanderous and calumnious enough to bring public officials into disrespect, then under the common law the publisher could be prosecuted for seditious libel. The truth of what was published was no defense; indeed, it even aggravated the offense. Furthermore, under the common law judges, not juries, had the responsibility to decide whether or not a publication was seditious.

Although the Sedition Act horrified the Republicans, it was actually a liberalization of the English common law of seditious libel that continued to run in the state courts. Under the new federal statute, which resembled the liberal argument John Peter Zenger’s lawyer had used in 1735, the truth of what was said or published could be admitted as a defense, and juries could decide whether or not a particular piece was libelous and seditious.

The Republicans were in no mood to accept the Federalists liberalization of the common law. In the debate over the sedition law that spilled into the early nineteenth century several Republican libertarian theorists, including George Hay of Virginia and Tunis Wortman of New York, rejected both the old common law restrictions on the liberty of the press and the new legal recognition of the distinction between truth and falsity of opinion that the Federalists had incorporated into the Sedition Act.  While the Federalists clung to the eighteenth century’s conception that “truths” were constant and universal and capable of being discovered by enlightened and reasonable men, the Republican libertarians argued that opinions about government and governors were many and diverse and their truth could not be determined simply by individual judges and juries, no matter how reasonable such men were.  Hence, they concluded that all political opinions–that is, words as distinct from overt acts–even those opinions that were “false, scandalous, and malicious,” ought to be allowed, as Jefferson put it in his First Inaugural Address, to “stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it.”

The Federalists were dumbfounded by these arguments. “How … could the rights of the people require a liberty to utter falsehood?” they asked.  “How could it be right to do wrong?”   It was not an easy question to answer, neither then nor later.  “Truth,” the Federalists said, “has but one side and listening to error and falsehood is indeed a strange way to discover truth.”  Any notion of multiple and varying truths would produce “universal uncertainty, universal misery,” and “set all morality afloat.”  People needed to know the “criterion by which we may determine with certainty, who are right, and who are wrong.”

Most Republicans felt they could not deny outright the possibility of truth and falsity in political beliefs, and thus they fell back on a tenuous distinction, developed by Jefferson in his First Inaugural Address, between principles and opinions.  Principles, it seemed, were hard and fixed, while opinions were soft and fluid; therefore, said Jefferson, “every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle.” Individual opinions did not seem to count as much as they had in the past and thus could be permitted the freest possible expression.

What ultimately made such distinctions and arguments comprehensible was the Republicans’ assumption that opinions about politics were no longer the monopoly of the educated and aristocratic few.  Not only were true and false and even malicious opinions equally to be tolerated, but everyone and anyone in the society should be equally able to express them.  Sincerity and honesty, the Republican polemicists argued, were far more important in the articulation of ultimate political truth than learning and fancy words that had often been used to deceive and dissimulate.  Truth was actually the creation of many voices and many minds, no one of which was more important than another and each of which made its own separate and equally significant contribution to the whole.  Solitary opinions of single individuals may now have counted for less, but in their statistical collectivity they now added up to something far more significant than had ever existed before, something that the New York Republican Tunis Wortman referred to as “the extremely complicated term Public Opinion.”

Because American society was not the kind of organic hierarchy with “an intellectual unity” that the Federalists had wanted, public opinion in America, argued Wortman, the most articulate of the new Republican libertarians, could no longer be the consequence of the intellectual leadership of a few learned gentlemen.  General public opinion was simply “an aggregation of individual sentiments,” the combined product of multitudes of minds thinking and reflecting independently, communicating their ideas in different ways, causing opinions to collide and blend with one another, to refine and correct each other, leading toward “the ultimate triumph of Truth.” Such a product, such a public opinion, could be trusted because it had so many sources, so many voices and minds, all interacting, that no privileged individual or group could manipulate or dominate the whole.

This vast, impersonal, and democratic idea of public opinion, said Federalist Theodore Sedgwick in disgust, “is of all things the most destructive of personal independence and of that weight of character which a great man ought to possess.”  But no matter, it was the people’s opinion, and it could be trusted because no one controlled it and everyone contributed to it.  Despite the Federalist warning that a government dependent exclusively on public opinion was a mere “democracy,” in which “opinion shifts with every current of caprice,” there was no turning back.  In no country in the world did public opinion become more awesome and powerful than it did in the increasingly democratic America of the early Republic.

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This essay is drawn from the forthcoming Oxford History of the Early Republic, Empire of Liberty. Several of Professor Wood’s current books in print are available in our JMC Book Store.

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James Madison GPS

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

A Jack Miller Center Pathway Essay

By George Thomas

Portrait of James Madison, one of the authors ...

James Madison

Dubbed the “father of the Constitution” by the historian Charles Jared Ingersoll in 1825, James Madison resisted the title. Yet it is by this title that Madison remains best known. While biographies of the “Founding Fathers” continue to meet the public’s appetite —there have been new biographies of George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and Alexander Hamilton in recent years—books on Madison, especially those that break into the popular fold, tend to be historical studies of the early years of the Republic. Madison has become inseparable from the nation he helped bring into being.  Indeed, when the late Marvin Meyers gathered together the first comprehensive one volume edition of Madison’s writings in the early 1970s, he titled it The Mind of the Founder. And what better way to get at the bookish Madison than by reading.

First published in 1971, but brought out in paperback by the University of Virginia Press in 1990, Ralph Ketcham’s James Madison: A Biography is the best one volume biography of Madison’s life. As an early editor of the Madison Papers when the project was housed at the University of Chicago, Ketcham had access to material that was not available to earlier biographers. (Material on Madison continues to come out from the University of Virginia Press under the editorship of J.C.A. Stagg.) Ketcham’s biography not only traces Madison’s career, it gives us a sense of the man. As Madison said of his early years in Virginia under the study of Donald Robertson, who introduced him to thinkers like Montaigne and Montesquieu, “all that I have been in life I owe largely to that man.” It also captures a side of Madison that is less rarely on display (including a portrait of the beautiful Dolley Madison, who was introduced to Madison by Aaron Burr, and has also come into her own with a recent biography A Perfect Union: Dolley Madison and the Creation of the American Nation by Catherine Allgor.) The slight and frail man dressed in republican black had an impish sense of humor and was a lively presence among friends.

This should come as no great surprise. Madison led the charge in revolutionary Virginia to establish religious liberty, was the most important mind at the Constitutional Convention, joined with Alexander Hamilton to offer the great defense of the Constitution in The Federalist, crafted the Bill of Rights, and was behind the creation of political parties that helped bring about what Thomas Jefferson dubbed “the revolution of 1800”—the first peaceful transfer of power in history. To be so influential, we would expect a certain amount of persuasive character. Witnessing Madison’s exchanges with the gifted orator Patrick Henry in the Virginia ratifying convention, John Marshall called Madison the most eloquent speaker of his age. And yet, it is this very sweep that has often led to charges that Madison was inconsistent and vacillating—a lesser figure who fluctuated between the pull of Hamilton and Jefferson.  To follow Madison through this tumultuous period, one could do no better than Lance Banning’s The Sacred Fire of Liberty: James Madison and the Founding of the Federal Republic.  Banning’s book has the great virtue of reconstructing Madison’s thought from Madison’s preoccupations. The result is a Madison that is at once a skillful politician and a great thinker—he is neither Jefferson’s, nor Hamilton’s second.

If Madison was a masterful politician, he has not been seen as a great president. He left office extraordinarily popular, but history has been stern. Madison’s temperate claims of executive power make for intriguing reading against such judgments. The best history of his presidency remains Henry Adams’s History of the United States During the Administrations of James Madison first published in 1890. Adams, grandson of John Quincy Adams and great grandson of John Adams, has an overwrought sense of irony in his treatment of Madison. He is a New Englander who on occasion seems to think of Madison, like the first other four presidents who were not Adamses, as one of those damned Virginians. And, to be sure, many modern historians have offered a more rounded and sympathetic account of Madison’s presidency—even insisting the War of 1812, for all of its faults, helped sustain American independence for the long haul. Still, Adams’s great history is worth reading as it offers a detailed account of Madison’s presidency—coming in at over a 1,000 pages—and is itself one of the first great works of history written in the United States.

Madison lived beyond his contemporaries as the “last of the founders.” This from the frail youth who just after graduating from Princeton wrote that he did not expect “a long or healthy life.” Well, he lived until 1835 and witnessed the development of his handiwork for nearly another two decades. The nation returned to the issues of the 1780s and 1790s in debates over the national bank, the tariff, slavery and, most of all, nullification. Charges of inconsistency returned to haunt Madison and, a lifelong addict to politics and newspapers, Madison himself returned to the fray. Drew McCoy’s Last of the Fathers: James Madison and the Republican Legacy takes up Madison the elder statesmen, weaving together Madison’s late career with his early career in a wonderfully illuminating fashion. In McCoy’s able hands, we get a finely textured history that also happens to be a deeper education in Madison’s thought and the nature of the republic he helped birth.

Above all, Madison is an original constitutional thinker. Jack Rakove’s Original Meanings: Politics and Ideas in the Making of the Constitution is about the ideas and interests that framed the Constitution, but it is written with Madison as its central figure. Rakove captures what it means to make a constitution that is intended to endure for ages to come, but also how this begins from historical problems. When it comes to original meaning and its current application, Rakove offers somewhat ambivalent answers. But, following Madison, Rakove turns to the right questions, which are much broader than our unfortunate preoccupation with the Supreme Court and constitutional law. There is almost certainly an important lesson in the fact that Madison, our great constitutional thinker, was not a lawyer.

If you do not have the time—or is it the virtue?—for a longer book, or want only one book on Madison, you might pick up Rakove’s very brief James Madison and the Creation of the American Republic. For the republican side of Madison, you might try Colleen Sheehan’s James Madison and the Spirit of Republican Government. It’s a bit academic, but is engaging and readable; it even ends with a tribute to that great Madisonian—Harry Potter. If you are more adventurous, read Madison himself. He is imminently readable. You might be surprised how much sense and logic is packed into his short essays, and how relevant they remain for thinking about our Constitution and our politics.

George Thomas is Associate Professor of Government at Claremont McKenna College and the author of The Madisonian Constitution (Johns Hopkins).

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