Practically speaking, the debates which produced the Electoral College took place in two distinct phases. The opening phase transpired between the 1st and the 18th of June, during which time a great many ideas were put forward that amounted to very little in the moment. A fair bit was said all around – some concrete, a good deal more speculative – but the specific terms of presidential elections were ultimately tabled until a more concrete basis of discussion could be established. The task of establishing this foundation fell to one of the so-called “Committees of Eleven,” this being a gathering of one delegate from every state present save New York (the sole remaining representative of which, Alexander Hamilton, declined to speak on behalf of his government). Such conclaves were often formed during the various convention debates as a way to draft specific sections of the proposed constitution which could in turn be presented to the wider body of delegates. In this case, the committee in question was composed of Abraham Baldwin (1754-1807), David Brearly (1741-1790), Pierce Butler (1744-1822), Daniel Carrol (1730-1796), John Dickinson (1732-1808), Nicholas Gilman (1755-1814), Rufus King (1755-1827), James Madison (1751-1836), Gouverneur Morris (1752-1816), Roger Sherman (1721-1793), and Hugh Williamson (1735-1819). This group went on to present its completed report to the wider convention on September 4th, at which point the second phase of the discussion commenced. While this latter stage of the debate lasted only a few days in total, it was nonetheless much more involved than the first, with the assembled delegates delving much deeper into the nuances of the various electoral mechanism proposed and holding a number of consequential votes. By its conclusion on September 6th, while not every man in attendance was particularly happy with the results, a consensus had indeed been reached as to what the majority of those present would accept.
Seeing as the Electoral College was accordingly the product of a lengthy, multi-stage process by which various ideas were floated, shot down, resurrected, championed, and rehashed, a proper discussion of the same really ought to follow a chronological progression. Digressions are inevitable, rest assured, and arguably for the best, but what follows will thus closely track the events of the debate in the order in which they occurred.
Which brings us, then, back around to June 1st, at which point the assembled delegates set themselves to the task of determining both the mode by which the chief executive of the proposed national government would be chosen and the duration of their term in office. Pennsylvania’s James Wilson, as it happened, was the first to speak – doing so, by his own admission, with a degree of apprehension – and the mode of election which he sought to propose was that of a simple popular vote. This was mostly a theoretical recommendation on his part, he said, doubtless owing to the manifold logistical difficulties which would have accompanied a nationwide popular election in an era wholly lacking mass media or a robust transportation infrastructure, but one which he nevertheless felt warranted consideration. New York and Massachusetts, after all, both made use of this method in their own gubernatorial elections, and their experiences had effectively shown that, “An election of the first magistrate by the people at large, was both a convenient & successful mode. The objects of choice in such cases must be persons whose merits have general notoriety.” Worth noting, in this instance, is the fact that Wilson evidently preferred a mode of election that was very much in the minority among the various contemporary American states. Outside of the aforementioned examples of Massachusetts and New York, most governors were at that time chosen by a joint ballot of the two houses of the relevant state assemblies. Connecticut maintained the popular election procedure that had been enshrined in its pre-Revolutionary colonial charter. New Hampshire and Pennsylvania had council-style executives elected by way of districts. What Wilson was suggesting therefore constituted a significant departure from what was then the American norm, most states having made a point of effectively shackling their governors to their respective legislative bodies. That he made the suggestion anyway, knowing he would almost certainly have to fight an uphill battle to convince very many of his colleagues of the merits of his position, accordingly speaks to the depth of Wilson’s sincerity. Why else would he have proposed something he knew was bound to be unpopular unless he truly thought that it was the best way forward?
Also worthy of further consideration is the point with which Wilson chose to conclude his initial proposal. “The objects of choice in such cases,” he said, referring to elections intended to fill the post of chief executive, “Must be persons whose merits have general notoriety.” As the conversation at hand will play itself out over the course of the next several months, the logic at the heart of this statement will become a guiding influence upon much of what is said. One of the central purposes of any mechanism by which a chief executive is chosen, to be sure, is the selection of an individual whose merits are adequate to the various challenges which they are likely to face. A system which produces untalented administrators and inept diplomats, however it accords with the philosophical principles of those who created it, is bound to do far more harm than good. That said, experience and talent cannot be the only qualifiers for office. In a nation such as the United States of America, in which “the people” are supposed to play a central role in public life, officeholders must also possess the confidence of their countrymen. This balance is essentially what Wilson was referring to when he stated that candidates for executive office must be those, “Whose merits have general notoriety.” The individuals in question must have merits equal to the responsibilities they hope to take on, most assuredly. But those same merits must also be well known to those on whose behalf they will ultimately be deployed. Creating a mechanism capable of consistently striking this balance was the task to which the assembled delegates had determined to apply themselves, and to which Wilson felt the need to draw particular attention.
The next man to speak, Connecticut’s Roger Sherman, was evidently unmoved by Wilson’s intellectual boldness. Though his home state, as aforementioned, had maintained the same procedure for popularly electing its governor as had functioned across the length of its history as a colony, Sherman was nevertheless adamantly in favor of the most common method then in use for selecting a chief executive. “An independence of the Executive on the supreme Legislature,” he said, “Was in his opinion the very essence of tyranny if there was any such thing.” To that end, he was for, “Appointment by the Legislature, and for making [the chief executive] absolutely dependent on that body [.]” This, as mentioned above, would have been the much safter position to take, and the one likeliest to meet with widespread agreement. Most American did, as of the late 1780s, prefer a strong legislature to a strong executive, and most of the state constitutions directly reflected this preference. It therefore stood to reason that any national government created by those laboring at Philadelphia should not deviate from this inclination without exceptionally compelling reasons. And as no one, so far, had offered any, Sherman doubtless felt quite justified in attempting to proceed along the straightest path.
Wilson’s response to this, at length, was to renew his previous declaration in favor of popular election. He was still speaking mainly in theory – inasmuch as he had yet to draft any concrete plan or proposal – but he nevertheless felt it worth potentially upsetting an untold number of his colleagues to make clear his desire, “To derive not only both branches of the Legislature from the people, without the intervention of the State Legislatures but the Executive also; in order to make them as independent as possible of each other, as well as of the States [.]” Again, it bears reiterating how radical a notion this would have seemed to most of the delegates in attendance. The United States of America had definitively achieved its independence less than a decade prior, and this from a monarchical authority whose agents in what were then the Thirteen Colonies had been able to offer such stubborn resistance to popular agitation precisely because they were functionally autonomous from locally-elected legislatures. The notion of creating an American executive who would not be held accountable to Congress would have accordingly been something like anathema to no small number of Wilson’s compatriots. Granted, Wilson’s suggestion that each branch of the national government function independently from every other was not wholly unknown within the contemporary American experience. Indeed, it was essentially the same basic framework as existed within the government of Great Britain. The Crown, the House of Commons, and the House of Lords each claimed their authority from a different source. And while the Commons – particularly in the hands of those who called themselves Whigs – was slowly but surely coming to dominate the other two, their remained a common understanding among contemporary British statesmen and political philosophers that mutual autonomy was an important element of how Britain’s public institutions functioned. Stable though such an arrangement may have been in practice, however, it doubtless carried a distinctive taint in the minds of most late 18th century American observers. Wilson may yet have believed that there was wisdom in this particular example, but he would have to overcome significant prejudices in order to convince anyone else of the same.
Virginia’s George Mason, for example, was only partially persuaded. He claimed that he favored popular election but thought the notion ultimately impracticable, doubtless having in mind the same logistical challenges named above. Quite possibly acting out of a sense of respect for his learned colleague from Pennsylvania as much as any personal belief in the notion, he then requested that Wilson take time to think on the matter and formulate a more substantial proposal. In the meantime, notwithstanding the fact that two conflicting election methods had just been submitted for discussion, further debate on the subject would be immediately postponed. The delegates thereupon agreed to suspend their proceedings for the day and the present session was adjourned.
The following day, June 2nd, quite naturally opened with the more fleshed-out pitch by Wilson that Mason had previously requested. In it, the Pennsylvanian outlined a mechanism of election that deviated substantially from his prior endorsement of a simple popular vote while still seeming to maintain his desire for institutional autonomy. Specifically, he recommended,
That the
Executive Magistracy shall be elected in the following manner: That the States
be divided into [a given number of] districts: & that the persons qualified
to vote in each district for members of the first branch of the national
Legislature elect [a given number of] members for their respective districts to
be electors of the Executive magistracy, that the said Electors of the
Executive magistracy meet at [a given location] and they or any [given number]
of them so met shall proceed to elect by ballot, but not out of their own body
[a given] person in whom the Executive authority of the national Government
shall be vested.
Several specific aspects of this plan would seem to be worth noting.
The first is that it called for the appointment of electors by district as a
constitutional mandate. Evidently Wilson was as adamant as he claimed that the
states should be kept out of the process of electing an American chief
executive. The second is that it granted the right to choose electors to those
persons, “Qualified to vote in each district for members of the first branch of
the national Legislature [.]” Though Wilson was evidently willing to compromise
on his initial insistence that the President be elected by the people at large,
he nevertheless sought to maintain an important role in the process of
appointing a national executive for as broad a swath of the general population
as possible. And the third is that it seemed to envision the electors as active
participants in the process therein described. Wilson’s plan did not
characterize them as explicitly carrying out the will of their constituents or
fulfilling some manner of explicit instruction. All that they were to do once
chosen, he declared, was meet at a given location and elect someone to serve as
President. By what means they did this was left entirely unsaid.
Seemingly in an effort
to offer some degree of support for Wilson’s proposal – albeit in a somewhat
halfhearted fashion – Elbridge Gerry of Massachusetts responded to the plan as
presented above by stating his vehement belief that the election of a chief
executive by the planned national legislature – in parallel to the procedure in
place in most states – was entirely out of the question. It would be pure
folly, he went on to explain, to grant the permanent legislative body of the
United States of America the right to appoint the chief magistrate of the same
and expect the two entities not to end up conspiring with one another. The
executive, once appointed, would be in an ideal position to grant any number of
favors to members of the legislature. And the legislature, once having
appointed a chief executive, would hold it entirely within their power to
re-elect or defeat the same in exchange for whatever concessions the members
thereof desired. The result, Gerry declared,
Would be a
constant intrigue kept up for the appointment. The Legislature & the
candidates wd. bargain & play into one another’s hands, votes would be
given by the former under promises or expectations from the latter, of
recompensing them by services to members of the Legislature or their friends.
Evidently, the delegate from Massachusetts was of a similar opinion to
his colleague from Pennsylvania on the question of maintaining a strict
separation between the various branches of the proposed national government.
Autonomy, both men agreed, was absolutely essential. What they did not agree on
was the best means to achieve it in practice. Gerry confessed that he liked the
principle of Wilson’s proposal, but found the idea of cutting the states out of
the concomitant election process more than a little unwise. Useful though a
system of electors might prove, the states would not take lightly to being so
deliberately circumvented, even if the power in question – i.e. the election of
a chief executive – was one which they would not otherwise have claimed.
Better, if possible, to include them in the process, both as a means to avoid
undue resentment and because Gerry felt the people at large, “Too little
informed” and too, “Liable to deceptions” to be trusted even with the choice of
executive electors.
Wholly unconvinced by
any the preceding concerns, the next man to speak – North Carolina’s Hugh
Williamson – claimed to see no advantage whatsoever in creating a system of electors.
The state legislatures, he argued, would stand in the same relation to the
people at large and could very easily be tasked with fulfilling the very same
objective. Indeed, they could do so without riling the state governments or
requiring the creation of an entirely novel framework of balloting and
certification. With this in mind, it struck him as adding a needless degree of
complexity to proceed as Wilson had proposed.
When the matter at
hand shortly came to a vote, the results were not particularly surprising. Of
the ten states whose delegates were in attendance that day, eight voted in the
negative and only two voted in favor. Of the latter, one (Pennsylvania) was the
home state of the aforementioned Mr. Wilson and the other (Maryland) was the only
state whose constitution actually mandated the use of electors. Granted, the
Bay State’s electors were chosen for the purpose of appointing senators rather
than an executive, but it nevertheless stands to reason that the delegates from
the one jurisdiction familiar with the mechanism Wilson was proposing would
have seen their way clear to voting in its favor. That Wilson’s plan went down
to defeat also rather stood to reason, not the least of which because the
demands it sought to fulfill and the hazards which it invited had yet to be
fully discerned. Notwithstanding his stated belief in the need to separate as
much as possible the various branches of the proposed national government,
Wilson had not explained with very much rigor why legislative appointment was
so thoroughly undesirable. Mr. Gerry, it was true, had attempted to do so in
response to Wilson’s proposal, but surely there was more to say than that it
was a bad system and shouldn’t be considered? If legislative appointment was as
vulnerable to corruption as Gerry alleged, why was it the most common method of
executive election then in practice in the states? Were the states which
followed this procedure in fact havens for corruption or was Gerry rather
exaggerating his case? And for that matter, what were the pros and cons of
Wilson’s proposed system of electors? Could the people be trusted to make
sound, informed choices even in the delegated form of executive election? And
was it really such a problem to remove the states from the process entirely? In
short, there was simply too much yet to be discussed for any system in
particular to be adopted just yet.
After being laid to
rest for a week while other matters were taken up, the assembled delegates
returned to the topic of executive elections on June 9th, 1787 at
the behest of the aforementioned Elbridge Gerry. In the first of what would
prove to be several rather esoteric proposals, Gerry attempted to outline his
own preferred system for the appointment of a national executive, in this case
relying on the discretion of the existing state executives. By way of
explanation, after first repeating his claim of June 2nd that
allowing the national legislature to appoint the chief magistrate would, “Give
birth to intrigue and corruption between the Executive & the
Legislature[,]” he went on to observe that the assembled delegates had already
put in place the logical antecedents of his proposed innovation. They had all agreed
that the lower chamber of the national legislature – later to be named the House
of Representatives – was to be elected by the people at large. And they had all
arrived at the consensus that the upper house of the same – later to be called
the Senate – was to be filled via appointment by the legislatures of the
various states. Did it not make sense, then, to allow the state executives to
collectively appoint the proposed national executive? Was there not some
quality of wisdom in further cementing such a clear and explicable system of
elections? Not only, Gerry further explained, were the state executives more
likely to select the “fittest man” for the job – being, one assumes, more
familiar with the requirements of executive office than most – but it seemed to
him a useful means of ensuring stability and harmony for the chief magistrates
of each of the states to personally select the individual to whose authority
they would at times be required to submit.
While Gerry’s proposal
was doubtless intended to appeal to the dignity and competency of the
individual states – in keeping with his comments in response to Wilson’s
proposed system of electors – it entirely failed to appeal to the sensibilities
of his fellow electors. The only one of them to speak in response – Virginia’s
Edmund Randolph – accordingly did so very much with the intention of negating
ever point in Gerry’s plan. First, he said, in an apparent echo of comments first
put forward by James Wilson over a week prior, a chief executive chosen by the
executives of the states would never enjoy the requisite confidence of the people.
Second, the very nature of most of the state executives would mean that they
would be ill-equipped to choose a fitting candidate for national office. More
likely than not, they would be beholden to the relevant state assemblies. More
likely than not, they would be unfamiliar with the political landscape outside of
their state. Men in such a position were thus bound to choose someone who
favored their particular state rather than an individual known for their
dedication to needs of the United States as a whole. “A Natl. Executive thus
chosen,” Randolph notably observed, “Will not be likely to defend with becoming
vigilance & firmness the National rights agst. State encroachments.” And
finally, he opined, far from Gerry’s supposition that the state executives
would work well with the national executive whose elevation was their responsibility,
that the state executives were unlikely to place much value upon choosing a
national magistrate whose authority they would be bound by law to obey. If the
appointment was to be placed in their hands, in short, why shouldn’t they
choose someone they know will bend to their will?
Randolph’s response to
Gerry’s proposal brought a number of interesting points to light. For one thing,
as noted, the Virginian had seemingly taken the comments of his colleague from
Pennsylvania to heart when he effectively asserted that a successful chief executive
of the United States of America would need popular support as well as
competence if they were to function as intended. As this kind of assertion seemed
to grind against the notion of a President chosen in any way by Congress,
Randolph’s comment would seem to indicate the general direction in which the discussion
at hand was trending. Less prophetic – though no less noteworthy – was his
assertion that a chief executive chosen by the state executives would almost
certainly fail, “To defend with becoming vigilance & firmness the National
rights agst. State encroachments.” While there is certainly something to this
concern – inasmuch as it was possible for a sufficiently weak central
government to give way to the desires of the states – it is rather the opposite
of what one tends to think of as the customary complaint within the realm of
American federalism. Most of the discussions that had transpired within the
American political sphere over the last two hundred years have revolved around
the notion that the national government has too much power rather than too little, and that it is the states which much
take steps to defend their prerogatives rather than the other way around. That
one of the Framers of the Constitution was concerned that the states might come
to dominate the federal relationship would accordingly seem to speak to how
unsettled so many of the American republic’s defining political questions still
were at that time. There would be conflict, of course. Randolph’s belief that the
state executives would be too jealous of the national authority to make a sound
choice of national executive gives evidence of his awareness of the same. But
as to which side would come to dominate the other – the state or the national –
Edmund Randolph, at least, remained as yet uncertain.
As it happened, of
course, nothing came of Gerry’s proposal. When finally submitted to a vote,
nine states answered against it while none answered for it. Delaware, Madison
noted, was divided on the subject, but all this meant was that of all the
delegates then present and capable of voting, all that could be said for
certain is that three of Delaware’s six representatives were willing to
entertain Mr. Gerry’s bizarre scheme. The notion of a national executive
appointed by state executive electors did not come up again. When next the subject
of executive elections was raised, it was June 13th. Further
discussions had since taken place on other topics, and the assembled delegates determined
to take a brief pause and review the draft plan that they had thus far managed
to assemble. As relayed from the record, the ninth of the resolves that had so
far been decided accordingly declared that “A National Executive be instituted to
consist of a single person, to be chosen by the Natil. Legislature for the term
of seven years [.]” Two weeks into the debate surrounding the election of a
national executive – and three weeks into the Philadelphia Convention itself – it
seemed as though the consensus of the assembled delegates had yet to shift very
far beyond the mechanism that was then in place in most of the states. Mr. Wilson
had his chance to tout the benefits of creating a system of electors. Mr. Gerry
had been indulged when he pushed for handing the appointment to the executives of
the various states. But very little, among the majority of the delegates, had
yet been conceded.
Five days later, on
June 18th, 1787, rose one Alexander Hamilton. Eager, it would seem,
to shake up a discussion which had rather quickly stagnated, he offered forth a
series of remarks which marked the close of the first phase of the executive
election debate at that same time that they arguably set a hard limit on what
kind of proposals would ultimately be indulged going forward. He did not much
like the idea of a president chosen by the national legislature, he said. “He
would be ambitious, with the means of making creatures; and as the object of
his ambition wd. be to prolong his power, it is probable that in case of war,
he could avail himself of the emergency, to evade or refuse a degradation of
his place.” Mr. Gerry, recall, had given voice to much the same. But what was
Hamilton’s solution? By what means did he hope to decouple the chief executive from
his electors? The answer was straightforward enough. First, taking the system
previously described by Mr. Wilson as a basis, grant the appointment of the
chief executive to a group of electors chosen by the people. And then, once
elected, simply secure the chief executive in office for life. The former
Thirteen Colonies having but recently thrown off the authority of a hereditary monarch,
this was a bold suggestion indeed, but one which Hamilton felt was well
justified. “It has been observed by judicious writers,” he observed, “That
elective monarchies wd. be the best of they could be guarded agst. the tumults
excited by the ambition and intrigue of competitors.” History, it was true, did
not provide much in the way of useful example.
The
election of Roman Emperors was made by the Army. In Poland the election is made
by great rival princes with independent power, and ample means, of raising commotions.
[And] in the German Empire, the appointment is made by the Electors & Princes,
who have equal motives & means, for exciting cabals & parties.
All the same, Hamilton confessed himself unsure that, “Tumults were an inseparable
evil.” In light of the passion, the experience, and the talents of those
presently assembled in Philadelphia, he was in fact given cause to wonder if, “Such
a mode of election [might] be devised among ourselves as well defend the
community agst. these effects in any dangerous degree?”
In point of fact, the examples which
Hamilton cited were more or less as he stated them to be. More often than was
not the case, Roman Emperors had been acclaimed by the Legions before receiving
the endorsement of the Senate, and in time came to see the empire’s fighting
men as their primary constituency. The monarchs of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth were indeed elected by an assembly of landed aristocrats called
the sejm, and the Holy Roman Emperor –
monarch of what Hamilton called the “German Empire” – was likewise chosen by a college
of nobles and prelates known collectively as the Kurfürsten, or
prince-electors, both of which arrangements often led to political infighting,
intrigue, and corruption. Also, in point of theory, Hamilton’s central thesis
was not entirely unsound. If some means could be discerned to hold elections in
a peaceful and transparent manner, an executive serving a life term might
indeed prove themselves exceptionally difficult to corrupt when compared to
once whose power must periodically be confirmed by a vote. This exact principle
has since been applied to the Supreme Court and its Justices, and it would be
shortsighted to conclude that its application in another context should be categorically
doomed to failure.
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