In May of 1787, a Constitutional Convention convened at the behest of the Continental Congress. Its avowed purpose was to reform the articles of Confederation. During the hot, muggy, fly-infested Spring and Summer that followed, our founding fathers convened at the same location where the Declaration of Independence was signed. But they came with mixed purposes. Not only where the individual states at odds with each other on trade, currency, and many municipal practices, but they also differed on what powers, if any, they would concede to a central government. After much wrangling and heated debates, they eventually came together on a singular purpose, as stated in the Constitution’s Preamble, to form “a more perfect union” that assured for “ourselves and our posterity” justice, domestic tranquility, a common defense, the general welfare, and the “blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity.” They did not propose reforms for a confederation, but instead became the midwives for the birth of a nation.

Naturally, they could not know how that nation would develop or become more perfectly united. For intent is not destiny unless realized in action. And the realization of our forefathers’ intent would inevitably fall upon their descendants—which today includes us. For we are the recipients of an American history that began in Philadelphia and was subsequently celebrated there on July 4th, 1788, after our Constitution was ratified by two-thirds of the states. What have we since wrought that our forefathers might have anticipated? And did they have any forebodings?

As he emerged from Philadelphia’s Independence Hall, Benjamin Franklin, a key leader often asked to settle debates during the Convention, was asked what form of government would be proposed. He replied, “a republic, if you can keep it.” John Adams, who was serving as our Ambassador to England during the Convention, later described this newly minted Constitution as an “experiment in democracy.” But, as a key organizer of the revolution, he favored a strong central government to confront the European colonial powers. James Madison, one of the key architects of the Constitution, had spent studious hours researching the structure and longevity of past attempts to form or idealize a democracy. For no such effort in self-government had long survived in the entire course of human history. Each of these men recognized the fragility of this newly formed democratic republic. Though neither of them could foresee the future, they shared a common hope and trust that their descendants would maintain and mold this democratic republic. In effect, they placed its evolution in our hands.

George Washington, the General that led the American Revolution, would become the first President of the United States of America, not the deputy figurehead of confederated states. Instead, he was the duly elected leader who would represent the interests and welfare of all citizens of a singularly constituted democratic republic. After two terms in office, he admonished Americans in his farewell address that this “union ought to be considered as a main prop of your liberty, and that the love of the one ought to endear to you the preservation of the other.” But like John Adams, his Vice President, he too had reservations about the future of this newly minted government. In his farewell address, he warned Americans of a new and more strident enemy in factions of “designing men (who) may endeavor to excite a belief that there is a real difference of local interests and views . . . (and) are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion.” He warned that obstructionists would put the “will of the party” ahead of the “power of the people” to elect a representative government. In other words, Washington outlined for future generations what might subvert our union and potentially lead to despotism. (Reference “Presidential Farewell Addresses.”) His warning, some might say, revealed a preference for the Federalists who foresaw our national union depended upon a strong federal government.

But Thomas Jefferson, who was Ambassador to France during the Constitutional Convention, formed a slightly different—perhaps more nuanced—opinion of the newly minted Constitution. He had two concerns that he addressed in a letter to his friend James Madison. First, he feared a popular President could become a monarch if no term limit was imposed—likely a concern shared by Washington who declined to seek a third term. Secondly, he noted the absence of those avowed liberties secured by the British Parliament’s Bill of Rights. ¹ Later, he joined with Madison to promote the initial ten amendments to the Constitution that included those rights, to include the Tenth Amendment. That Amendment reserved to the states or to the people “the powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited to the States.” ² Jefferson’s concerns, most would agree, revealed his aversion for excessive Presidential power and for a central government that might diminish States’ rights. To quote from his private letters to constituencies during his subsequent Presidential campaign, “our country is too large to have all its affairs directed by a single government. Public servants at such distance . . . will invite . . . corruption, plunder, and waste . . . The true theory of our Constitution is surely the wisest and best, that the states are independent as to everything within themselves, and united as to everything respecting foreign nations.” ³

But, despite their differences, these American patriarchs recognized not only the fragility of maintaining a democracy but also the mutual comity required to assure national unity. Our Constitution’s creators, for example, had labored through five difficult months of argument and compromise before reaching agreement. Notwithstanding their differences, they became equally committed to this new union of states and showed this commitment in the mutual respect they showed each other. Even the firebrand Hamilton, who later became highly critical of Jefferson’s politics, claiming it was “tinctured with fanaticism” and that Jefferson was “not very mindful of the truth and that he is a contemptible hypocrite,” also said that Jefferson was incapable of being corrupted. So, even where friendship amongst political opponents might be problematic at times, respect could still be attained. ⁵

Edmond Randolph, who, along with two others, refused to sign the Constitution created that hot and muggy summer in Philadelphia. He opposed a strong central government and a powerful chief executive. But later, as a member of the Virginia Ratification Convention, he persuaded five other delegates to vote with him to ratify the Constitution and officially launch the United States of America. It may be—as Wikipedia opines—that he both feared disunion and became resigned to ratification as merely a union of sovereign states. Perhaps his vote was simply pragmatic and did not imply his unequivocal acceptance of the Constitution he had initially disavowed. Whatever the case, he did later become a principal office holder in the newly formed government, serving initially as its first Attorney General and then as its second Secretary of State. His public service is an example of a patriot whose politics is secondary to his citizenship. Even when personal differences seem unreconcilable, he did not consider the dissolution of our union a remedial undertaking, but a fatal one.

What can we learn from these founding fathers that still applies to this democratic republic we call the United States of America? First, our founding principles must overlay our individual politics, otherwise we cannot be a unified country. Secondly, when our unity is weakened by dissent, love of country must supersede our differences. Therefore, when factions or political differences threaten our union, we must act within the scope of the Constitution that unites us as a nation. Our forefathers demonstrated how their political differences could be maintained, but still serve the American republic and its Constitution. Washington exhorted us to do so. Adams, Hamilton, and Jefferson demonstrated how to do so. And Randolph exemplified how even dissenters can serve a republic of free citizens. They each did so by honoring the Constitution and the will of a free electorate who ratified it by their vote. As our first President admonished, if we love our liberty, then we must preserve our union. He effectively gave us the first principle of our American democracy.

How viable is this first principle of our democracy today? If history is our judge, then we have often been guilty of some level of non-compliance. For example, if voting is indeed emblematic of our liberty, then excluding people from the vote diminishes our union and thereby our democratic republic. Nevertheless, our history has encompassed the enumeration of non-citizen slaves as three-fifths non-voting humans, the repression of women’s suffrage, the internment of citizens and curtailment of their access to voting during a time of war, and the persistent effort to suppress minority voting. But history has also shown that Americans can learn from these unprincipled apostasies from democracy. We have amended our Constitution to free the slaves and grant women suffrage. Our laws have been changed to enhance our freedoms via affirmative action and civil and voting rights, and to broaden due process for asylum seekers and for citizen law offenders in our courts. In fact, nearly every generation of Americans have been challenged to make Washington’s first principle a reality for their time. When individual liberties were curtailed, we redefined and enhanced them to broaden and thereby strengthen our union. So, what is the challenge for our time?

Perhaps our challenge is the same as it has always been. Why did America fight a civil war? Why did we grant women the right to vote? Why did we terminate the Japanese internment camps? Why did we pass the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts? Perhaps we did so for the same reasons Abraham Lincoln expounded at Gettysburg (reference “Of . . . By . . . For”). A nation conceived in liberty and equality for all will be tested and forced to renew its devotion to its democratic government and to “a new birth of freedom.” The forebodings of our founding fathers were fair warnings of what we might expect. We cannot and will not retain our liberty if we lose our allegiance to the United States of America. Remember Washington’s first principle and Lincoln’s exhortation that those buried at Gettysburg “shall not have died in vain.”

During the Civil War, where 750,000 died out of a population of about 31 million, nearly every family knew someone who fought and/or died in that horrendous cataclysm of our democracy. The grievances and resentments on either side were felt deeply. Though diminished with time, they are still felt today. The societal/cultural remnants of that war persist today in suppression of the Black vote and the whitewash of history—specifically, that portion of American history from the first Negro slaves kidnapped in 1619 and extended to the Black Americans who now comprise every segment of our society. The current Republican Party has long since absorbed the Southern Democrats, some of whom still harbor the spirit of the Confederacy in their hearts and in their policies. The Grand Ole Party now wants to limit the Black vote and delete Blacks from American history. This attempt at historical recidivism is divisive and illiberal. It also negates 236 years of America’s progress towards building a more perfect union.

In addition, the evolution of American capitalism (as outlined in “American Exceptionalism Revisited”) now challenges that “pursuit of happiness” promised in Jefferson’s Declaration. During the Presidency of Franklin Roosevelt, it became apparent that our happiness had a financial component that only the Federal government could guarantee. America was no longer a nation of farmers and landowners that Jefferson envisioned. Instead of the Homestead Act of 1862, 20th Century Americans needed the Social Safety Act of 1935. Much to the chagrin of modern-day Republicans, Roosevelt seemed to actuate Woodrow Wilson’s attack on classical liberalism. Given Jefferson’s inability to foresee the Industrial Revolution, however, it’s problematic to assume that Jefferson would disagree with Roosevelt. But the continued growth of Federal institutions since 1935 has accentuated the divide between the two national Parties. President Johnson’s extension of the social safety net, along with the more recent introduction of President Obama’s Affordable Care Act (ACA) have riled Jefferson’s heirs as examples of the Federal Government’s overreach and of an institutionalized administration that infringes on states’ rights. The current Republican Party attempted to abolish the ACA and exclude over 20 million Americans from basic healthcare. But how do we promote the general welfare if only the wealthy can afford healthcare? When the poor are shown to die more frequently of curable ailments, reducing their access to healthcare does not make America more united, only less just and less equal.

Roosevelt’s Administration pulled America out of a deep Depression and the conflagration of a world war. Johnson extended this post war recovery by using Roosevelt’s highly progressive tax system to support wage earners, the social safety net, healthcare, and public education. The resulting post war “boom” greatly increased America’s national income per capita. Europe followed America’s lead, though it now supersedes America in the administrative state’s provision of healthcare, social security, and education. How did America fall behind? As Thomas Piketty explains, “growth in national income per capita in the United States was twice as low between 1990 and 2020 (after fiscal progressivity was halved under Reagan in the 1980s) as it had been in the preceding decades.” ⁶ Remember President Reagan’s retort: “government is the problem.” Perhaps it is more so if it serves what Piketty terms “hyper-capitalism” instead of the general welfare.

The recent Trump exercise in hyper-capitalism was his tax cut for the wealthy. As the only piece of major legislation in his Administration, it does not bode well for our future—that is, unless reversed. This is the real context in which Biden’s “Build Back Better” program needs to be understood: it raises taxes for those who earn more than $400,000/year to fund working America’s basic needs to include, healthcare, education, preservation of our shared environment, and enhanced opportunity for America’s working class. It is fiscally neutral and could spawn a growth in per capita national income akin to Roosevelt’s New Deal.

Notwithstanding Biden’s agenda, some of what Jefferson feared has indeed already come to pass in terms of “Public servants at such distance . . . will invite . . . corruption, plunder, and waste.” Ironically, it has been the most recent heirs of Jefferson’s Republican Party who have contributed to the veracity of his prognosis. The Trump Administration, for example, welcomed influence peddlers from a hostile regime. Witness Russian meddling in our Presidential campaigns (“Russia, if you are listening . . .”). One such effort—a one million dollar foreign campaign contribution—is still in the courts. Sadly, much of the Trump Presidency was predictable. Just weeks after he assumed the Presidency, I wrote “Competency and the American Presidency,” in which I outlined both the threat Donald Trump posed to our democratic republic and the rationale behind Putin’s support (also referenced therein by “Why Putin favors Trump”). Much to my amazement, my words were uncannily predictive.

With how many grifters and lobbyists did this disgraced twice impeached former President Trump surround himself in the White House? How many criminals and indicted associates did he pardon as he left office? ⁷ How many Cabinet positions were granted to supporters with either a known bias against his/her assigned institution or with no relevant expertise? More to the point, the Trump Administration has reversed this democracy from its initial intent to form a more perfect union into a conspiracy-laden, hotbed of insurrectionists intent on suppressing minorities, reversing women’s control of their own bodies and careers, systemizing voter suppression, and rigging elections to assure all power is concentrated in the office of the Presidency—which Trump endeavored to occupy in perpetuity. How can America achieve a more perfect union if its only claim to democracy—a free and fair election—is usurped by what Jefferson would term a monarchized Presidency.

In a mere four-plus years, Donald Trump has redirected America’s trajectory towards “a more perfect union” to a craven self-serving politics and to a violent uprising against the seat of democracy. But Trump is not the prime cause of America’s fall from its Constitutional mandate. He, like any parasite, thrives on its hosts, which in this instance are Americans with a varied assortment of grievances.

Remember when politics could harbor disagreement, but without enmity. Remember when politicians told constituents the truth or, at least, what they believed to be true. Remember when love of country eclipsed policy differences, valued service to country over holding onto office, and rated citizenship over wealth or privilege. That love is called patriotism. Today, those memories appear dimmed within the body politic, thereby facilitating a divisive “take-no-prisoners” brand of politics. The corrupting effect of this perverse realpolitik is magnified by the press where its every lie/conspiracy/half-truth is rehashed in a continuous loop until it becomes normalized. How can this form of politics serve the public good and bring citizens together in support of its diversive perversity? Its appeal is based solely on addressing alleged grievances. And its justifying arguments are often repeated by the press as false equivalences, instead of the monstrous lies that could destroy a democratic republic. And perhaps worse is its assertion that equates an insurrection against the Federal government with our founding revolution against a monarch. This perverse politics falsely elicits Thomas Jefferson’s support of state’s rights and limited Federal power as its philosophical underpinnings.

But the essence of Jefferson’s concern about a nation’s affairs being “directed by a single government” can be found in his Declaration of Independence wherein he declared “the causes which impel them (the colonies) to the separation.” Most of us never read past the philosophical arguments for his Declaration. But, if you do, you will find a list of grievances. ⁷ When Jefferson enumerated the King of Great Britain’s “injuries and usurpations” against the colonies he summarized them in terms of the King’s refusal to “Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.” These were “the causes which impel” a revolution. And, further, Jefferson provided us with the philosophical underpinnings of a democratic republic formed by the “consent of the governed . . . to effect their safety and happiness.”

When the current representatives of the Republican Party argue in favor of state’s rights, they list their grievances against “big government” and Federal intrusion into the affairs of States. But ask yourself first whether they are arguing for the public good. For example, is a political Party’s usurpation of power by redistricting for the public good? Is suppression of the vote to quash a feared majority consensus for the public good? Is it for the public good to prohibit a woman’s control of her own pregnancy? Is it for the public good that Donald Trump must continue to abuse the powers of the Presidency? ⁸ Was it then for the public good that he incited an insurrection against a dutifully executed national election? Whose grievances were the insurrectionists relieving, theirs or Trump’s?

America is once again at one of those pivotal points in its history. It no longer exemplifies an archetype for a democratic republic dedicated to liberty and justice for all. Instead, it has become a divisive state torn between factions endlessly competing for power and influence with little or no regard for the general welfare of its citizens. Its disarray and departure from its founding principles, including Washington’s first principle, is an invitation for foreign antagonists to fan the flames of discontent, disunity, and disloyalty amongst our body politic. And it is also another moment in world history when a dominant power recedes and is replaced by its competitor(s). Do not doubt that Putin and Xi Jinping will seize this moment.

Is it too late for America to overcome its season of discontent? Can it once again raise the beacon of democracy to a hopeful world? Well, I would not spend the time it takes to write these tomes if I did not believe so. My children and yours depend on us to regain the torch of freedom. America can once again be reborn at the ballot boxes, in our schools, and in our communities. Our history tells us “Yes, we can.” As “students of the virtues that history reveals, we become the makers of a renewal that no one can foresee.” ⁹

_______________________________
¹ Saul K. Padover, editor, “The Writings of Thomas Jefferson,” (Paris, December 20, 1787, a letter to James Madison concerning the Federal Constitution,), pp. 312-313.
² Those prohibited powers are enumerated in Article 1, Section 10, of the Constitution.
³ Merrill D. Peterson, “Thomas Jefferson and the Nation,” pp. 627.
⁴ Ibid., p. 632.
⁵ Ibid., pp. 646-647.
⁶ Thomas Piketty, “Time for Socialism,” p. 17. Please note that Piketty’s “socialism” is not communism, but “a new form of socialism, participative and decentralized, federal and democratic, ecological, multiracial, and feminist.” (p. 2) I think Piketty is characterizing what developed as a nascent movement in Europe, likely inspired by America’s social safety net, but less hindered by revisionist politics.
⁷ “Grievance” is a word especially useful to a demagogue. It is derived from the Latin, gravis, meaning “heavy”, “weighty”, or “burdensome.” It implies a heavy burden one must carry, like Caesar’s foot soldiers weighted down with heavy armor, swords, and helmets. But we all have some form of grievance that burdens us. Senator Cicero, President Jefferson, and nearly every other politician has used grievances to connect with constituents. This “grievance tactic” is not based strictly on reason, but on the felt burden of whatever circumstances may trouble a listener—like a pandemic, job loss, insecure circumstances, lack of political redress, and so on. When politicians can relate to a people’s grievances—e.g. “I feel your pain,” they can win their support. Or, in Trump’s shtick, “my enemies are yours too so join my fight.” But his fight is against the people’s republic that would limit his power. (As Judge Jackson wrote in her ruling against Trump, “he is the President, not a King.”) His followers are more enticed by his fight than his personal grievance which is infantile. And that fight is basically against any authority, law, or code of decency that hinders willful behavior. Remember demagogues have no definition of liberty other than a license to do whatever they want. Their followers then exercise the same license and act just as irresponsibly. It should be no surprise that Trump’s rhetoric should lead to violence, death threats, and even an insurrection against the people’s republic.
⁸ A simple internet search reveals 143 pardons that Trump continued to author until his last day in office. They include his campaign manager, a foreign policy advisor, his National Security Adviser, his chief campaign strategist, the RNC National Finance chair, the husband of a Trump ally and Fox News host, and many other miscreants mainly involved in various financial scams, not dissimilar to Trump’s scams (ref. Trump University and the Trump Foundation) or to other alleged financial frauds for which he is either already under investigation in New York or soon will be (like his misuse of campaign funds to pay off his defense lawyers).
⁹ Timothy Snyder, “The Road to Unfreedom,” p. 281.
˟˟ For a bit more philosophical/psychological treatment of one of the themes in this blog, you might want to read (“Only I Can“) which I wrote in July 2019.