Federalist No. 10, Part III: the Republican Solution

Though Madison’s discussion of the weaknesses of human nature, the inevitability of faction, and the failure of democracy to account for either are intriguing in their own right, the reputation of Federalist No. 10 as one of the most significant documents in American political history is based more on its explanation of the genius of republican government and its ability to alleviate the excesses of partisanship. This explanation, which runs roughly from paragraph fifteen to paragraph twenty-two, is rather simply and concisely laid out, and though parts of it may now seem to be quaint or naïve, it represented at the time of its publication a revolutionary reimagining of the concept of representative government.

    The basis of Madison’s arguments runs thusly:

1.      Unlike in a democracy, in which a small number of citizens conduct the business of government themselves, authority in a republic is delegated by the citizens to their chosen representatives

2.      Because the government of a republic does not need to be conducted by all of the assembled citizens, this government can be allowed to extend over a larger geographical area and encompass a larger population than that of a pure democracy

3.      As each representative in an extensive republic will be chosen by a larger number of citizens than typically exist in a small democracy, a greater number of issues will need to be considered and the choice of election will more likely fall to one who can be shown to exercise sound judgement, prudence and a firm grasp of the principles of government, rather than those that promise to uphold the wishes of the faction to which they belong

4.      By ensuring the proper ratio between the voters and their delegates, a well-constructed republic can ensure that representatives are neither unacquainted with the local issues that concern their constituents, nor too personally attached to them and thus blinded to matters of national significance

Simple enough; a series of logical assertions building to the logical conclusion that republican government, as embodied in the proposed Constitution, has the ability to control the existence of factions by ensuring that no one of them could dominate any other in the selection of the people’s representative, or their day-to-day deliberations. Again I concede that this must seem like a rather naïve construction of government considering how much parties have come to dominate the American political process. Nevertheless, in 1787 it was a truly radical notion that a larger state could ever be considered more stable than a smaller one, and represented a uniquely American inversion of accepted political theory.

The theory in question was that of Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de La Brède et de Montesquieu, French Enlightenment philosopher, and contemporary to Voltaire and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. In 1748, Montesquieu published a political treatise called The Spirit of the Laws in which he advocated for constitutional government, the separation of powers, the abolition of slavery, and the protection of civil liberties. The culmination of twenty years of research into law, sociology, anthropology, and political theory, The Spirit of the Laws proved to be extremely influential, both in France, where it originated, and in Great Britain and its colonies. Among the arguments that Montesquieu put forth, one was that the ideal republic must exist over only a small expanse of territory. Specifically, he contended that the larger the state, and the more wealth and power it accumulated, the greater the temptation would be for abuse on the part of its elected administrators. Furthermore he believed that,

"In a large republic, the public good is sacrificed to a thousand views; it is subordinate to exceptions, and depends on accidents. In a small one, the interest of the public is easier perceived, better understood, and more within the reach of every citizen; abuses are of less extent, and of course are less protected.”

Madison’s reversal of Montesquieu’s argument, which was based in established political theory and drew on the examples of Ancient Greece, the Roman Republic and the city-states of Renaissance Italy, was a radical tactic. Yet in some ways it was typical of the American approach to republicanism, history, and political thought.

However they came to disagree in later years, Madison and his compatriots were united by a profound sense of optimism about the significance of their Revolution and the place their country would occupy in the history of Western Civilization. In their eyes, the United States of America was a truly exceptional entity; the culmination of Enlightenment political theory; the perfection of republicanism and of liberal government. In time, they were confident their nation would rise to a pre-eminence never seen before in the history of the world, and along the way defy expectations and shatter precedents. Though, in 1787, these visions might have seemed a long way from being realized, Madison was confident that the adoption of the Constitution was the next step in the process. To that end, he stated in paragraph eleven of Federalist No. 10 that the matter being considered was, “the great desideratum, by which this form of Government can be rescued from the opprobrium under which it has so long labored, and be recommended to the esteem and adoption of mankind.” With such weighty matters at stake, I doubt there were many established political theories that Madison wouldn’t have found a way to defy. 

And though his efforts were ultimately successful, the rigidly structured “republic of virtue” that Madison first envisioned in 1787 arguably existed, only for a brief period in the 1790s. By the time Thomas Jefferson was inaugurated as the 3^rd President of the United States in 1801, America was beginning one of a series of slow transformations that would occur over the course of the next fifty-or-so years. As I mentioned during my discussion of Washington and his departure from public life, the America of the 18^th century, of the Enlightenment, was exceedingly short-lived. The diplomatic pressures of the 1790s, the growth of manufacturing, a second war against Britain; these things pushed and pull the country in at times contradictory directions, and Americans’ ideas about the purpose, size, and scope of their government changed accordingly. And so I must admit that the theory of republican government showcased by Federalist No. 10, which would have seemed antiquated to many as early as the 1820s, must seem hopelessly out of step in the modern era, when parties have become so ingrained in the way the American political system functions.

In deference to Madison and the other supporters of the Constitution, I think that they knew this might someday be the case, and sought to furnish subsequent generations with the tools they would need to confront new and different challenges. Their America was from the beginning an experiment, and one that was apt to evolve over time. Having said that, and considering the way politicians and pundits continue to attach significance to the words and deeds of the founding generation, I do think there are elements of Madison’s argument in Federalist No. 10 worthy of consideration, here and now.

The first is Madison’s belief that the people’s elected representatives need to be of a certain quality, and that part of their job is to exercise their judgement when deciding which policies best address a particular issue. In his own word, the purpose of representative government is to “enlarge the public views, by passing them through the medium of a chosen body of citizens, whose wisdom may best discern the true interest of their country, and whose patriotism and love of justice will be least likely to sacrifice it to temporary or partial considerations.” He also seemed to believe that representatives should be chosen, not because they seem sympathetic, share the views of the electorate, or come from the same place, but because they are competent, experienced and trustworthy. It is now considered, I think, a matter of opinion whether an elected representative’s purpose it to directly transmit the wants, needs, and desires of their constituents onto the national political stage, or if they are instead supposed to think of their election as an endorsement of their competence, and approach issues with the freedom to exercise their discretion and expertise. Whichever view seems to predominate in the American political tradition, I think it worth noting that Madison seemed to favor the former.  

The second, and perhaps most interesting, is Madison’s apparent conviction that differences of opinion among elected representatives are not a weakness in a republic, but a strength. The larger the electorate, he argues, the larger number of representatives will be required, and the greater variety of perspectives and opinions will be present in the assembled legislature. In so doing, it becomes, “less probable that a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other citizens; or if such a common motives exists, it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their own strength, and to act in unison with each other.” At the same time, since no majority of opinion is likely to prevail, laws must be debated on their merits and will only be ratified if they satisfy the convictions of more than just one faction or another. Considering the view evidently shared by Democrats and Republicans alike that the only thing stopping them from solving every problem under the sun are their opponents across the aisle, Madison’s belief that a diversity of opinion is central to a republic’s strength and stability seems worthy of consideration. If nothing else it begs the question: is it entirely constructive to have public policy in the most powerful nation in the world decided via two massive political factions continuously thrashing each other with no end in sight? Is it not preferable that 70% of the population think a statute is reasonably good than 51% think it perfection and 49% disclaim it as the downfall of civilization?

But I do go on. As always, I encourage you to read and think on these questions for yourself: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Federalist/10

Federalist No. 10, Part II: Nature, Democracy and Experience

    Compact and incisive, Federalist No. 10 contains two sets of arguments. First is Madison’s explanation as to why factions are such a consistent source of danger to stable government. This section is dominated by a discussion human nature and political theory, while also drawing upon Madison’s experience as a member of Congress and a state legislator in order to point out specific deficiencies of the system of government that the United States had been operating under up until 1787-88. Also of note in this section is Madison’s lengthy critique of democracy and its inability to counter the basic human weaknesses that encourage faction (and indeed its habit of nurturing them).

    Second is Madison’s reply to these critiques, which offers republicanism, as embodied in the Constitution, as the only viable solution to the destructive influence of factional politics in the United States. To this end Madison offers several very interesting points about how the size of a republic and the variety of opinions held by its inhabitants have a direct influence on the quality of its government, and that government’s ability to resist manipulation by particular interests and preserve and promote the common good.

    In this post I’d like to focus on the first set of arguments, and Madison’s explanation of factionalism and its sources.

    When writing about or discussing the idea of faction (which he did often), Madison had a specific definition in mind, which Federalist No. 10 lays out quite plainly. In the second paragraph he states, “By a faction, I understand a number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or a minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent or aggregate interests of the community.” Essentially, factions work for their own ends rather than the common good. And though he believed that the abundance of factions at work in the United States in the 1780s was a specific consequence of the weaknesses of the overall system of government, he made a point of strongly asserting that the appearance of factions was not altogether unavoidable.   

    Men, Madison explains, are everywhere divided from each other by the properties they own, the businesses they engage in, theirs skills, their language, religion, and knowledge. As much as they are fundamentally alike in their intrinsic worth and the rights they possess, they are superficially unalike in as many ways as it is possible to count. In the seventh paragraph he explains:

“Those who hold, and those who are without property, have ever formed distinct interests in society. Those who are creditors, and those who are debtors, fall under a like discrimination. A landed interest, a manufacturing interest, a mercantile interest, a moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, grow up of necessity in civilized nations, and divide them into different classes, actuated by different sentiments and views.”

Even under circumstances when no major divisions exist in a society, Madison argues that mankind has become so accustomed to seeing the world in terms of “us” and “them” that even “frivolous and fanciful distinctions” will give form to the most violent kinds of conflict. “The latent causes of faction,” Madison concludes, “Are thus sown in the nature of man.” The purpose of government is therefore not to change human nature itself, but rather to acknowledge the existence of factions and actively work to hinder their ability to negatively influence the affairs of state. 

      In paragraph twelve, Madison argues that this work is best accomplished by ensuring that majorities, where and when they do exist in a republic, are rendered unable to carry into effect their “schemes of oppression” by how government is arranged, and how it functions to translate their will into political action. To this end Madison asserts in paragraph thirteen, in what I think to a modern reader must be a startling admission, that democracy is perhaps the least capable of carrying out this vital function, and consequently the most vulnerable to the evils of faction. Though it may seem odd that one of America’s Founding Fathers took such a dim view of what is arguably his nation’s most cherished value, it was an opinion perfectly in keeping with a man of Madison’s generation, sensibilities, and education.

    To the enlightened gentlemen of the 18^th century, democracy wasn't really seen as a value worth promoting. Men like Madison, Jefferson, Washington and Adams were students of history, political philosophy and particularly of the “classical” world of ancient Greece and Rome. They saw democracy, wherein government is conducted by the people directly, as chaotic, unstable, and prone to collapse. In their eyes, the masses were not fit to effectively govern themselves, and of necessity must turn over the reins of government to those best suited to the task. True, the people should choose their own leaders, who would in turn derive their authority from the consent of the governed, but a fundamental division between electors and elected would always prevail. While the Founders certainly believed that the rights and liberties of the people should be absolutely guaranteed, few of them would have agreed that merchants, labourers, or farmers who lacked the experience or education required of statesmen should be able to transcend this division and assume a direct role in government. It was arguably not until the 1810s and 1820s, with the rapid growth of American commerce and manufacturing and the emergence of a “middle class” of people, that democracy began to be viewed in the United States as a positive value, held in equal esteem with republicanism. Thus it stands to reason, in 1787, that Madison’s criticism of democracy was neither unreasonable nor unexpected.

    Specifically, his criticism was grounded in the idea that democracies had historically existed amongst relatively small numbers of citizens. This small number, likely spread over a small geographic area, would share only a handful of opinions between them and face few physical impediments to forming factions, developing schemes for seizing the property or curtailing the rights of their neighbours, and seeing these plans accomplished.

    Think of it like this: a small democratic state exists in a mountain valley whose total population is five hundred, all of whom have a role to play in government. If three hundred citizens of this democratic state, who live in relatively close proximity and can communicate very easily, decide to seize the property of the remaining two hundred “for the good of the state,” what’s to stop them? And if it’s not two hundred people, but five, or one, is it permissible then?

     In Madison’s view, a scenario like this was particularly pernicious because it represents the commission of a crime (the violation of the rights of a person or groups of persons) in a lawful manner. No laws are broken, government functions as intended, and yet people are deprived of their property without cause. For this reason Madison believed that “Democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security, or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives, as they have been violent in their deaths.”

     It’s worth noting that Madison’s argument against democracy was based on personal experience as well as political theory. As I mentioned in the previous post, Madison served for a number of years as a legislator, both in Congress and in the Virginia Assembly of Delegates. And it was during that time in his professional life that he witnessed directly what he considered to be the failings of excessive democracy. Because Virginia was a relatively small state (compared to the combined United States, anyway), and because a large proportion of its population shared in the same handful of occupations, only a handful of issues tended to monopolize the attention of the state legislature and its delegates. In the aftermath of the American Revolution, these issues had mainly to do with debt, taxation, property and finance. Inevitably, as Madison admitted, disagreements over these issues led to the formation of factions, who in turn (again because of the relatively small size of the state and resulting ease of communication) were able to take control of the legislature via elections and pass law after law that conformed to their views and those of their fellow partisans.

   These laws, which Madison regarded with horror and which he alludes to in paragraph twenty-two, authorized the printing of paper money as a means of paying off debts (in spite of the fact that it quickly lost its value), abolished debts altogether (which Madison considered a violation of the right of property), and attempted to undertake a redistribution of wealth. However much these laws may have benefited a percentage of the Virginia’s population, perhaps even the majority, Madison believed they harmed another portion, and overall created a less-stable economic and social environment. Hoping to prevent similar attempts by factions from seizing control of the national political process and passing popular but ultimately damaging laws, Madison supported the adoption of the United States Constitution and the peculiarly republican solutions that it offered.

Federalist No. 10, Part I: Context

    Since, in discussing Washington’s Address, I've been able to cover most of the major themes and events of the early years of the American republic, I’d like to now take the opportunity to segue into something a bit more obscure and a bit more challenging. And at the same time I’d also like to backtrack a little, shifting from the 1790s, when the American Constitution was first put through its paces, to the late 1780s, when that same document was initially proposed and ratified. This will involve some amount of background (as ever) and the introduction of a new personality into the discussion: James Madison, Virginian, central architect of the American Constitution, father of the Bill of Rights, Congressman, and President. Madison wrote Federalist No. 10, one of 85 essays written to promote the ratification of the Constitution, and widely regarded as one of the most significant documents in American political history. I’ll get to the why and wherefore a little later; for now, I’d like to talk about what was going on in the United States in the 1780s and why some people thought that a Constitution was suddenly necessary. 

    In addition to voting in favour of independence in 1776 and publishing a declaration to that effect, the Continental Congress also set about creating, in 1777, a framework for governing the newly-independent states. The charter that the assembled delegates came up with, which was ultimately ratified by all 13 states in 1781, was known as the Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union. Unlike the later Constitution, which created a strong federal government complete with taxing power, a Supreme Court and a single executive (in this case a president), the Articles functioned more like a treaty of military and economic cooperation between 13 distinct political bodies. Under the Articles the United States had no president or federal court system and vested executive power almost entirely in Congress. The states retained authority over most of their own affairs, leaving Congress to conduct the war effort, organize loans and engage in international diplomacy. This arrangement was preferred at the time because it avoided the kind of centralization of power that characterized the British system of government, which many of the Revolutionaries had come to see as increasingly tyrannical. For the duration of the war the government under the Articles functioned reasonably well (or well enough), but it was after the end of hostilities in 1783 that its inherent weaknesses became apparent.

    In the absence of a war effort to administer, the Congress of the Confederation (as it’s often referred to now) had very few powers or responsibilities. Unable to tax the states, it could only make requests for funds which the states usually ignored. During the war this left the federal government perpetually cash-strapped, requiring it to print an excess of paper money (which quickly lost its value) in order to pay soldiers their salaries, and purchase supplies and ammunition. Without a war to incentivize lending the states became even less inclined to fund the initiatives of Congress, leaving it essentially powerless to repay the debts it had incurred, pursue any kind of internal improvements or organize a national defence. This economic infirmity, combined with the inability of Congress to regulate commerce between states, prevent the adoption of preferential trade practices or encourage manufacturing, created an increasingly anxious political climate. Popular discontent with debts that had accumulated during the Revolution also led to protests and attempts by state governments to nullify certain financial obligations, to the displeasure of the creditors that were owed. By 1786, with disaffected former soldiers holding valueless government bonds, land prices at a low ebb, and many states showing a manifest incapability of coordinating their trade practices (and in fact often competing with each other), it had become apparent to many of the Revolutionary elite that some kind of change was necessary.  

The result was the calling of the Philadelphia Convention of 1787, an assembly of notables, statesmen, and lawmakers from 12 of the 13 states (Rhode Island being the exception). Initially convened with the stated aim of revising the Articles of Confederation in order to create a more effective government, the assembled delegates very quickly abandoned that objective in favor of drafting an entirely new governing charter for the United States. Since this post is not intended to provide a complete history of the Constitution I won’t dwell on who said what during the convention, whose plans were adopted and what kinds of things were debated. Suffice to say, the final draft of the Constitution was arrived at after months of work and much heated discussion, and was submitted to the states for ratification by specially appointed conventions in September, 1787. In order to become law the Constitution required 9 of 13 states to vote for ratification, and in some cases this was easily accomplished (as in Connecticut, Georgia, North Carolina and New Jersey). However, states like Virginia, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and New York (among the largest and most influential states) saw far more significant opposition to the Constitution. In order to promote ratification in these key states, and counter some of the articles that were being printed in opposition to the new charter, Alexander Hamilton (veteran of the Revolution, New York lawyer and first Secretary of the Treasury) recruited James Madison and John Jay (another New Yorker, and later the first Chief Justice of the Supreme Court) to draft a series of essays that would argue in favour of the Constitution.

Of the 85 Federalist Papers that exist, 77 were printed in prominent newspapers in the battleground states between October, 1787 and August, 1788, all under the pseudonym “Publius” (as was common practice at the time). These essays addressed the Constitution section by section in an attempt to explain to the public how every element had been carefully considered, and how all of the states stood to benefit from its adoption. Federalist No. 10, the first of 26 that Madison contributed, was first published on November 22, 1787 and addresses the question of how a republic, which as a species of government is particularly receptive to the public will, could effectively guard against the excesses of factionalism. Having served in the Congress of the Confederation and the Virginia House of Delegates, Madison had seen first-hand how destructive legislative majorities could be when they disregarded the rights of minorities and gave themselves over to popular passions at the expense of the common good. His Federalist No. 10 sought to address what he perceived as the over-abundance of democracy in the United States, the role that factions played in exploiting it, and how the Constitution could and would provide an effective remedy if ratified and adopted.    

Washington’s Farewell Address, Part V: Factionalism

    During Washington’s second term in office, inter-party animosity was at a high tide (as ever, it seems). The factions that supported Britain and France respectively took every opportunity to press for any advantage, call into question their opponents’ motives and register their disagreements in often violent ways. Political newspapers appeared seemingly overnight, publishing vicious editorials and slanderous cartoons; farmers and distillers in Western Pennsylvania staged a tax revolt; Spanish authorities in Louisiana intrigued with disaffected Westerners and plotted to break away from the union. Not since the Revolution had America seemed so near the brink of utter disaster, and few were more conscious of this fact than Washington himself. It is unsurprising then, that his Farewell Address contains repeated cautions against excessive factionalism and repeated assertions of the common causes shared by all Americans. What is perhaps surprising is how relevant they seem to the present state of politics in the United States.

    Before I dive into the Address itself, I’d like to take what I'm sure you've come to see by now as a customary pause to discuss some matters of context. It is, in this case, of particular importance to understand exactly what Washington was confronting in 1796, what his assumptions about factionalism were, and why he was so alarmed by what modern Americans have come to see as accepted role of political parties.

    As I’ve referred to before, the factions that emerged in the United States in the 1790s grounded their opposition in both the foreign and domestic spheres. One, referred to as the Federalists, was generally sympathetic to Britain, believed in a strong federal government, and supported commerce, taxation, and the national debt. The Federalists found their strongest support in large urban areas, particularly in New England, and were led by men like John Adams and Alexander Hamilton. The other, called the Republicans or Democratic-Republicans, tended to align themselves with French interests, preferred strong state governments, and supported agriculture, low taxes, and free trade. They were popular among Southerners and Westerners (in this era meaning settlers in Western Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Tennessee, and later Ohio), and were led chiefly by Thomas Jefferson and James Madison. Neither party was prepared to accept the existence of the other, claimed their opponents were actively endangering the republic they claimed to protect, and believed that they needed to be completely destroyed in order to ensure the survival of the United States of America.    

    This apocalyptic view of party politics was a consequence of an 18^th-century mindset, and particularly a republican mindset, that didn't really account for the existence of formal political parties. Factions were an accepted, if undesirable, reality: court factions, country factions, factions that formed and re-formed to meet the needs of a given situation. But these entities were the product of monarchies, were rarely permanent, and lacked almost all of the characteristics we've come to associate with modern political parties; no charters, no formal hierarchies, no fundraising capabilities, and no single, identifiable brand. A common lifespan for this kind of faction would be to coalesce around a particular leader or issue, do battle with an opposing faction, eradicate said opponent, and then disperse or divide. Because they were transient things, and because monarchies tended not to place a great deal of value on the will of the common people, factionalism was generally viewed as unavoidable, if unpleasant. For factions to exist in a republic, however, was seen as far more problematic.

Republics, after all, are structured around the idea that a government is ultimately responsible to the people it governs. The people’s ability to choose representative for that purpose is the literal expression of the same idea, as is their ability to replace them at regular intervals if they so desire. Presumably, the people select their representatives - their Congressmen, Senators and Presidents - based on the belief that whomever they choose will act with the best interests of their constituents in mind, and in accordance with republican principles, practicality, and good sense. However, if these same representatives were to group together in a series of factions or parties whose aim was not observing the will of the people but consolidating power and destroying their opponents, how is responsible government to function? And if these factions actively work to inflame public opinion in order to rally support, and in so doing create an atmosphere of violence and anxiety, how long would it take for one person or another to seize power for themselves in the name of promoting security and stability? It was questions like these that worried classical republicans like Washington, and led both the Federalists and Republicans to refuse to accept the label of “political party” for themselves. In both their eyes, their factions were only temporary associations of like-minded statesmen that sought to protect the fragile American republic.

I make these points mainly to drive home the idea that nobody in 1796, not even members of the factions themselves, thought that political parties were a good idea. This would continue to be the case in America for several decades, until at least the 1840s. Up until that point political factions tended to assume power with the understanding that they would right all the wrongs of their predecessors, and that organized ideological divisions would no longer need to exist. The idea that a party could exist, could oppose the government without being accused of disloyalty or treason, was a novel one, and evolved very slowly. Thus, when Washington refers to parties or factions in his Address, it’s important to remember that his understanding of these terms and ours is fundamentally different. However, that doesn’t stop many of the ideas he puts forward, about national unity and the dangers of excessive partisanship, from being highly relevant to the America of today.

For instance, in sections 17 and 18 of his Address Washington argues that any and all “combinations and associations” whose principle aim is to “direct, control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the constituted authorities,” are ultimately destructive to the liberty of a free people, however well they might serve the needs of a few. These associations, he claims, aim to replace the will of the nation with the will of a “small but artful and enterprising minority,” for the purpose of making “the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous projects of faction.” While Washington was almost certainly talking about the influence of the Democratic-Republican societies, local political organizations that had emerged in the early 1790s and were connected to the Whiskey Rebellion, it’s not difficult to see how this denunciation might relate to modern money politics and the influence of interest groups and lobbyists. Though American politics in 1796 were far less transparent than today, Washington saw that groups or individuals that possess the proper resources or influence might easily take hold of the political process and direct it to the own ends, to the detriment of the people. Then as now, American politics exists in a delicate balance; responsive to the popular will, but also capable of being manipulated by it. Washington believed, and I think it true today, that however effective certain methods may seem to be at getting things done, one must always be aware of their potential implications, particularly if they come into conflict with the basic principles of republicanism.

That being said, and though he likely would have preferred it otherwise, Washington did not believe it possible to eradicate the spirit of factionalism altogether. Indeed, in section 25 he admits there is evidence to suggest that the formation of a formal government opposition party could provide a useful counterbalance against administrative excess. However, at the same time he cautioned that while factionalism may be capable of serving a useful purpose it was not something that should be encouraged. It being man’s natural tendency to group together with others of like mind, Washington believed that it was necessary for a republican government to “mitigate and assuage” the spirit of partisanship and channel it in a useful way. “A fire not to be quenched,” he wrote, “It demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.” While Americans today are far less reluctant to acknowledge the utility of organized parties, they are also at times far too willing to allow the party contest to eclipse all other political concerns. Party conventions, filibusters, government shut-downs; these are the events that seem to dominate the American political landscape, yet how much have they to do with government? Are they not the flame that Washington warned against? I doubt very much that he would have been able to foresee the heights to which factionalism has risen in the United States. Still, he knew well enough that partisan politics, lest it become destructive of good government, must always require a degree of restraint; a trait which has, from time to time, been lacking in American politics.  

Before I bring this lengthy series to a close, I’d like to take a moment and reflect on one last insight that Washington saw fit to share in his Farewell Address. It comes early in the text, in section 10, and like his explanation of the necessity of taxes I believe that it may be one of the most wise, profound, and eloquent statements ever made by an American leader. In short Washington claims while discussing the advantages of a union of the states that Americans have every reason to be proud of their country, and that this pride unites them across all boundaries, real or imagined.

He goes on to say:

“You have in a common cause fought and triumphed together; the Independence and Liberty you possess are the work of joint counsels, and joint efforts, of common dangers, sufferings, and successes.”

Imagine that. The things that Americans value most, their freedom and their independence, they owe not just to themselves, to their government, or to the efforts of some old white men from centuries past, but to each other. However much Americans may disagree (and they do) on how their government should function, the operation of the law, the freedom of the individual, and workings of culture and commerce, they could not have achieved the pride of place they now enjoy in the world without each other, and without a shared devotion to their country and what it stands for. For Washington, who witnessed in his lifetime perhaps the most divisive period in American history outside of the Civil War, this is a very magnanimous view to take, and one which we could all do well to reflect on, now and again.

But don’t take my word for it: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Washington%27s_Farewell_Address