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 

Washington’s Farewell Address, Part IV: Foreign Relations

*I note up front that this post runs a bit long and covers a lot of ground, and I thank you in advance for your indulgence.

Among the other topics that Washington discusses in his Farewell Address is the issue of foreign relations. This was a subject of particular importance in 1796, as the United States daily ran the risk of being torn apart by the competing sympathies of its citizens and the demands of its allies and trading partners. Ever the pragmatist, Washington advised a neutral course, and in spelling out his position arguably created a framework that, in some form or another, guided American foreign policy for over two centuries.

    But let’s take a step back for a moment.

    Following the Revolutionary War, which ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1783, Britain and the newly formed United States of American maintained many of the commercial ties that had existed during the colonial era. This relationship ran in both directions, with Britain exchanging manufactured goods for American raw materials, and constituted perhaps the most important form of commercial exchange for either nation. Those Americans that were engaged in shipping, as ship-owners, ship-builders, sailors, merchants, or bankers, were located mainly in the urban north, in cities like Boston and New York, and benefited greatly from the thriving Atlantic trade during the 1780s and 1790s. They were also, perhaps because of their trans-Atlantic business relationships, the Americans most likely to be sympathetic to Britain and its culture. As, over the course of the early 1790s, Britain became increasingly involved in an expansive conflict with Revolutionary France (which had cast off its monarchy in 1793 and declared itself a republic), these same Americans unhesitatingly expressed their support for their former countrymen and expected their government to do the same.

    In the Southern states, however, things were not so clear cut. Though many Southern planters (like Washington, Jefferson and their contemporaries) sold their produce to British buyers, they were suspicious of British motives and of commerce in general. Staunch republicans, they believed that only by owning land could a person be free from the influence of others, and that a successful republic required its citizens to be at liberty to freely express their will, rather than the will of their business partners, creditors, or employers. And as republicans they were thrilled when France, their ally during the Revolution, declared itself a republic. In their eyes the American Revolution had successfully spread, and toppled one of the oldest and most entrenched monarchies in Europe. It was thus incumbent upon the government of the United States to honor its wartime alliance (sealed by treaty in 1778) and give whatever aid was necessary to ensure that its sister-republic thrived.

    Forced to confront the competing sympathies of the American people, Washington at all times urged neutrality and non-intervention. The United States, he believed, was too young and too fragile to risk being dragged into a European conflict in which it had no direct interest. To that end he first issued a proclamation of neutrality in 1793, threatening legal action against any Americans who participated in the European conflict or aided any of the belligerents, and then endorsed and signed the Jay Treaty into law in 1795. This concord between Britain and the United States resolved a number of issues that had remained unsettled following the Treaty of Paris (continued British occupation of certain forts in American territory, a demand for compensation by Britain of property seized during the Revolution, etc…) preserved diplomatic relations between the two nations and ensured the United States’ continued neutrality in Britain’s war with France. Hotly debated in the Senate between those who wished to preserve commercial ties with Britain and those that felt the treaty aligned the United States too closely with British interests, the accord was ultimately ratified and came into force in early 1796.

    Having at last decided to retire from public life, and no longer fearing the recriminations of his fellow Americans for supporting a neutral course, Washington dedicated a sizeable portion of his Farewell Address to an explanation of the dangers of entangling alliances and the benefits of keeping the United States free and independent on the global stage. This explanation, which begins in section 31 and ends in section 49, revolves around the assertions that alliances or rivalries with other nations would inevitably endanger America’s independence and that if America were to ally with another nation it would be a hopelessly lopsided union.

    Considering his role in helping to achieve the independence of the United States, it stands to reason that Washington would value that independence very dearly and would not want to see it hastily cast aside. This he asserts in section 32, claiming that “the Nation, which indulges towards another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness, is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest.” Though Washington believed that the government of the United States was, unlike the monarchies of Europe, dedicated to servicing the public good, it too could be led to abandon its well-reasoned plans and policies if prompted by ill-will, animosity, pride, or ambition. While these sorts of vices were in some sense unavoidable for a nation as young and untested as the United States was in 1796, the first president thought it prudent not to invite them unnecessarily in the form of national alliances and national enmities.

    He reinforced this assertion by also claiming that alliances between nations, when they do exist, must always benefit one party more than the other. Considering that in the 1790s the United States found itself caught between Great Britain on one hand and France on the other (both vast, wealthy, militarily experienced empires), it’s not an unreasonable argument that America could never be an equal partner to either one. “Europe,” Washington writes in section 37, “Has a set of primary interests, which to us have none, or a very remote relation. Hence, she must be engaged in frequent controversies, the causes of which are essentially foreign to our concerns.” This geographic isolation, combined with the fact that the United States was the sole republic in a world of monarchies (with a few odd exceptions), ensured that America’s interests could not help but be separate from the majority of nations that might seek to ally with it. Hence, Washington argues, whatever Britain or France might seek to gain from allying with the United States could not possibly benefit America or its citizens in anything more than a tangential way.

       What all of this means, essentially, is that Washington believed the United States increasingly ran the risk, in the late 1790s, of becoming a pawn in the machinations of its potential allies, and in the process stood to lose the independence it had fought so hard to attain. Though he was willing to admit that trade with other nations was admissible, even desirable, he refused to entertain the idea of extensive foreign commerce unless it was dictated by practicality and reason, and not by a sense of favouritism or hostility. “Even our commercial policy,” he writes in section 42, “Should hold an equal and impartial hand; neither seeking nor granting exclusive favors or preferences.”

Evidently Washington believed that the United States needed to adopt a stoic posture, taking events as they came and evaluating potential relationships by first and foremost weighing its own interests. Perhaps I’m projecting, but I see in these cautions almost exactly the nation that American became. Granted, I don’t know whether I or anyone else could say beyond a shadow of a doubt that Washington’s Farewell Address had a direct influence on subsequent generations of Americans. Nevertheless, I see in the first president’s words the America of the 19^th century that traded with other nations, had relationships with other nations, but kept them always at arm’s length. I see the America of the Monroe Doctrine, jealously guarding the Western Hemisphere from European interference; the America that waited until 1917 to enter WWI, and until 1941 to enter WWII, in both cases on its own terms and for its own reasons. And I see the America that between 1778 and 1949 (when it took the lead in forming NATO) had no permanent alliances, military or otherwise, with any other nation.

Perhaps I read too much into Washington’s caution. Judge for yourself his somewhat cynical conclusion:

“It is folly in one nation to look for disinterested favors from another; that it must pay with a portion of its independence for whatever it may accept under that character; that, by such acceptance, it may place itself in the condition of having given equivalents for nominal favors, and yet of being reproached with ingratitude for not giving more. There can be no greater error that to expect or calculate upon real favors from nation to nation. It is an illusion, which experience must cure, which a just pride ought to discard.”

       If later generations didn’t take Washington’s address to heart and plan their foreign relations strategy accordingly, than the first president’s foresight was downright uncanny.

Washington’s Farewell Address, Part III: Debt and Taxes

I recall that I may have hinted in a previous post that it’s something of a pet peeve of mine when politicians and pundits in the United States invoke the Founding Fathers when arguing for or against whatever the issue of the day happens to be. They claim to know, often with startling specificity, what the Founders intended or would have said about this or that subject. While I think it’s creditable that a people should seem to be so in touch with their own history, I am often baffled by the arguments the Founders are regularly drafted into, and am driven to wonder how many of these politicians and pundits have actually sat down and read what Jefferson, Washington, or Hamilton actually wrote.

I say this because, in addition to being a sort of primer on classical republicanism, Washington’s Farewell Address contains a number of cautions which the first president saw fit to impart as he left office. While these warnings all have their roots in contemporary, 18^th-century issues, their relevance in the present context is, at a glance, startlingly apparent. Consequently, if someone wanted to know what the first man to hold the office of president, hero of the Revolution, and Founding Father par excellence George Washington had to say on the subject of the national debt, taxation, foreign relations, free trade and partisan politics, they need look no further than his valedictory address for eloquent statements on each of those topics.

If it pleases the court, I’d like to highlight a few of them now.

I’ll start with the national debt, which has been a topic of heated conversation for several months now, and will likely continue to be for the foreseeable future. Should the debt be totally paid off? Is it an unreasonable burden to pass on? Is it growing out of control? How can it best be managed?  Not being an economist, and having only come to something like a competent understanding of the function of the debt recently, I’ll leave the in-depth discussion to those more qualified. That being said, and for the benefit of those that know even less about sovereign debt than I do (which wouldn't be difficult), allow me to sketch out the basic concepts.

Any government, in its regular operations, must spend money. They spend it on social programs, on national defence, on infrastructure, and on financial aid. There are, essentially, two ways for a government to accumulate this money: taxation, and borrowing. Taxation comes in many forms, like sales taxes, income taxes, tariffs, and capital gains taxes. However, taxation, unless it is to become excessive to the point of ridiculousness, can never hope to account for the billions of dollars that the average government spends every year. Thus, governments must also borrow money, from private citizens, banks, and foreign countries. In so doing they accumulate a debt which fluctuates from year to year as portions of it are paid off and more money is borrowed. As long as a government is able to pay off the interest on it debts from year to year, and avoid defaulting on any payments, actually having a debt is not really an issue. In fact, the debt is really what helps governments borrow the money they need. By showing themselves to be trustworthy borrowers, governments can effectively establish a line of credit that enables them to borrow even larger sums further down the line. That being said, it is inadvisable for any government to allow its debts to grow out of control, especially to the point that they eclipse the total amount of money that a country is able to generate on a yearly basis.

During Washington’s first term in office, the United States of American began the process of generating its first public debt. Mainly, this meant permitting the state governments to transfer the debts that they’d accumulated during the Revolution (some of which were sizeable) to the Federal government. New taxes would be implemented, mainly on items considered luxuries (like whiskey), in order to create a stable line of credit by reliably paying the interest on this consolidated debt. Having proven its reputation as a reliable borrower, the United States could then freely issue bonds to foreigners and American alike, generating significant revenue for the federal government. The brainchild of Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton, this debt assumption scheme met with mixed reactions and became one of the most hotly debated issues in America in the 1790s. Negative responses were particularly common among the Southern states, many of who were on their way to paying off their debts and felt that they were being punished for their diligence. Soldiers who had been paid in state bonds at the end of their service during the Revolution also had cause to complain, as many of them had sold their IOUs at a time when they were at a low value, only to have that value sky-rocket in the lead-up to the federal purchase. Nevertheless, a compromise was reached and the assumption went forward.

By 1796, the debt had become one of the central issues of debate between the emerging political factions in United States. Generally speaking, Northerners, who tended to value commerce over agriculture, saw the debt as a useful way to promote investment and economic stability. Southerners, who tended to own land and made their living either working it or renting it to those who did, saw the debt as a tool of bankers and speculators who wished to manipulate the nation’s finances to their own ends. Washington, though he was a Southerner, was in favour of the debt, or at least saw it as a potentially useful tool. In his Farewell Address he referred to public credit as an important source of security and stability and called on his countrymen to cherish it, with certain qualifications. It should be used, he wrote, sparingly, and occasions for added expense should be avoided by cultivating peace (war being a notoriously costly endeavour). At the same time he cautioned that timely investments aimed at preparing for a potential danger would likely alleviate the much greater cost of repelling said danger once it had arrived (essentially, good preparation is cheaper than good damage control). These admonitions he coupled with the assertion that though it is not always possible, the accumulation of debts is best avoided and that once accumulated great effort should be exerted to discharge them, thereby “not ungenerously throwing upon posterity the burthen, which we ourselves ought to bear.”           

This is, I think, a reasonable position to take; that debt could be a very valuable tool, but only when used skilfully, moderately and prudently. And it was likely the product of Washington’s effort to chart the middle course between the opposing factions, both of whom looked to him for moral leadership and mediation. It is, I think, worth acknowledging that Washington did not claim that it was desirable to pay off the debt entirely. This would, after all, render it useless as a means of generating much-needed revenue, something which the federal government, even in the 1790s, was increasingly in need of. In fact, though the United States actually did pay off its debt completely in 1835, it began borrowing again at the start of 1836 (at which point, in January, the total debt amounted to $37,000).  

In the same section (the 30^th), Washington also discusses the necessity of taxation as a means of discharging the nation’s debts. His opening statement on that topic is, to my mind, one of the most even-tempered and pragmatic I've read or heard from an American politician on the subject of taxes.

He wrote:

“Towards the payment of debts there must be Revenue; that to have Revenue there must be taxes; that no taxes can be devised, which are not more or less inconvenient and unpleasant; that the intrinsic embarrassment, inseparable from the selection of the proper objects (which is always a choice of difficulties), ought to be a decisive motive for a candid construction of the conduct of the government in making it, and for a spirit of acquiescence in the measures for obtaining revenue, which the public exigencies may at any time dictate.”

    18^th-century linguistic contortions aside, there can be no more plain explanation of the purpose and necessity of taxation in a free society. Taxes are unpleasant but necessary. Because they are unpleasant, the objects which they apply to (investments, property, imports, income, etc…) must be very carefully chosen, and the process of selecting and enforcing them must be as transparent as possible. And at the same time, the public must be willing to accept the implementation of taxes aimed at providing revenues for measure or programs from which they benefit directly. At no point does he say that taxes are what make life worth living, nor does he claim that they spell the end of American civilization. They are, to his thinking, an inconvenience, but one that must be tolerated because they ultimately serve the public good.

    I can’t speak for anyone else, but I think this is a view worth considering.