Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett
Thomas Paine, a painting by Laurent Dabos, c. 1792.

Thomas Paine, in The American Crisis, December 19, 1776, Pamphlet 1, in his speech on “These are the times that try men’s souls” – not quitting in their fight for independence, writing how tyranny is not easily conquered, “Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to tax) but “to bind us in all cases whatsoever.”

The same principles that breathed life into Thomas Paine’s resistance to tyranny and justified the American Revolution also formed the basis of the American sense of justice in foreign policy after 1776. The American founders believed that the guides derived from the principles of the Declaration of Independence would better enable them to formulate policies that would satisfy the demands of interest and justice – that is, that would do justice to our own citizens by securing their rights, but would also do justice to foreign people by respecting their independence. In essays #17 and #18 we saw that, according to the principles of the American Founding, the American people have a right to domestic sovereignty and political independence; and because government has a moral obligation to secure the rights of its citizens, the government of the United States has a duty to preserve the nation’s political independence. These same principles provided further guides that would help American statesmen do a better job of securing justice for our nation and doing justice to others as well.

American statesmen believed, first of all, that when possible, peaceful means to resolve conflicts with other nations should be preferred. The founders practiced the doctrine of “peaceful appeals when possible” in the American Revolution itself, by making every possible appeal to the King for a peaceful resolution to the conflict before resigning themselves to an appeal to heaven. The manner in which Americans came to declare the British to be not only a foreign people but enemies was a long process involving many attempts to reconcile differences peacefully. After the “long train of abuses” detailed in the list of grievances against the British, for example, the Declaration of Independence emphasized that “in every stage of these oppressions we have petitioned for redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury.” In 1775 the Continental Congress had issued the “Olive Branch Petition” to King George III in 1775 in a last effort to persuade him to come to his senses, stop further bloodshed, and prevent the escalation of hostilities.[1] The appeal to the King was unanswered, and so the Americans were forced to make the “Appeal to Heaven” through a resort to arms and, eventually, by declaring independence.

Second, Founding-era statesmen believed that the United States should respect the equal right of other nations to political independence as much as possible. The right to political independence, derived from the fundamental “Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God,” is a universal right, not an exclusive right of the people of the United States. This right to political independence, therefore, also means that the United States should respect the political independence and domestic sovereignty of all other nations as much as our own security will permit. Just as we expect other nations to respect the independence and domestic sovereignty of the United States as much as their sense of security will allow, we are also obligated to respect the independence of all peoples and their right to consent to their own choice of government, laws, and policies as much as our own sense of security will allow. We see this axiom expressed very clearly in James Kent’s Commentaries on American Law in 1826:

Nations are equal in respect to each other. . . . [T]his perfect equality, and entire independence of all distinct states, is a fundamental principle of public law. It is a necessary consequence of this equality, that each nation has a right to govern itself as it may think proper, and no one nation is entitled to dictate a form of government, or religion, or a course of internal policy, to another.[2]

The American founders believed that by following these two fundamental principles – preferring peaceful measures and respecting the independence and sovereignty of other nations, as much as possible – the United States would avoid giving just cause for war to other nations. This end would also be promoted by performing our engagements, fulfilling treaty obligations, paying debts, and showing little or no favoritism toward particular nations.

We can see these basic principles of American foreign policy thought displayed in many symbolic images. For example, the Gadsden flags popular during the American Revolution portrayed a rattlesnake with the words “Don’t tread on me” on them. This signified America’s willingness, like the rattlesnake, to leave others alone when not threatened; but it also showed the willingness of the United States to strike powerfully and quickly when “meddled with.” This also reflects the claim in the Declaration of Independence that “we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.”

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


[1] Continental Congress, “The Last Address of the People of America to the King,” 5-8 July 1775.

[2] James Kent, Commentaries on American Law, 1826.

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Guest Essayist: Robert Brescia
George Washington, presided over the first Continental Congress; Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army during the American Revolutionary War; first President of the United States; painting by Gilbert Stuart, 1796.

“To be prepared for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.” —George Washington

“It is a principle incorporated into the settled policy of America, that as peace is better than war, war is better than tribute.” —James Madison

“We know only too well that war comes not when the forces of freedom are strong, but when they are weak. It is then that tyrants are tempted.” —Ronald Reagan


Peace through strength (PTS) – this is a recurring theme throughout the history of our great nation. It’s as old as ancient civilizations such as China’s Sun Tzu (author of The Art of War), and as new as today. I’ve heard people assert that the United States should only increase its military capabilities if it is attacked somewhere in the world. Others say that we shouldn’t augment our defensive or offensive strengths unless we are attacked on our homeland. That’s a relatively shortsighted strategy – the world is way too small for that to be effective. While some believe that you should only focus on military strength upon being attacked, either on the world stage or on our own turf, it is too late at that time to assemble and employ a suitable riposte.

Enter the strategy of peace through strength. It has been supported by several of our Founding Fathers and our U.S. Presidents from 1789 to today. The basic premise of PTS is that if the United States builds a military capability so great, with an extraordinary over-match ratio to potential attackers, that no nation on earth would dare to attack us because they know it would bring their swift and complete destruction.

By virtue of our PTS strategy, peace in our homeland would be achieved and maintained. If one accepts such a premise, then the next logical question might be, “to what extent do we need to arm ourselves to be that deterrent that we seek?” That would entail a constant comparative exercise, accomplished by thinktanks and large consultancies who monitor the military capacities of world nations.

A second, related question could be, “does this strategy only include conventional armaments or would it also include nuclear?” A third question might also be, “have we any empirical evidence that a PTS strategy was or is successful?” I might add a fourth question, but it has no matter-of-fact answer and that would be, “would super-arming our nation constitute a temptation for present or future political leaders to use that power for much the same reason that President Clinton claimed during his impeachment – “because I could.”

Historical Tie-in of Peace Through Strength

PTS is sometimes confused or interleaved with RealPolitik. RealPolitik is the result of a collision between Enlightenment ideas that our Founders espoused and the fast development of nation-states in the second half of the 19th century. On the one hand, we had political leaders who espoused ideologies and liberal type policies while, on the other hand, countries began the empirical quests for more power and domination, seeking colonies to aggrandize their positions on the word stage.

RealPolitik is a result of that strategic conflict and it is occasionally very tempting to associate PTS within it. The next evolution of these ideas extended RealPolitik and PTS into political realism. This happened when world nations began practicing international relations to try and justify their actions. We saw two generally oppositional ideas emerge: 1) policy actions and international relations are primarily concerned with the extension and growth of power and, 2) policy actions and international relations are the manifestation of a desire for national survival.

Summary and Conclusion

While not a subtle hint or a visible charge by our Founding Fathers for us today, PTS captures the American spirit of wanting to be protected against the bad will and actions of other nations. However, the reality of politics and national priorities in our times is such that we may not have the luxury of arming ourselves to the teeth, not to mention continuously updating our military arsenals with the latest technologies. We have nondiscretionary social entitlements such as Medicare and Social Security that must be paid up front. We also have a massive national debt that our politicians can’t seem to get a hold of. American politicians seem to have difficulty fending off involvement in foreign struggles. Consider President Bush’s war waged in Iraq because of his desire to reestablish U.S. world leadership after September 11, 2001. One close adviser revealed that the thinking behind the war was to show: “We are able and willing to strike at someone. That sends a very powerful message.” Consider President Obama’s co-invasion as well with NATO of Libya in 2011 – the stated rationale was to support Libyan rebels but then Secretary of Defense Robert Gates said, “Publicly, ‘the fiction was maintained’ that the goal was limited to disabling Colonel Qaddafi’s command and control. Given that decapitation strikes against Qaddafi were employed early and often, there almost certainly was a decision by the civilian heads of government of the NATO coalition to “take him out” from the very beginning of the intervention.”

My own conclusion is that the Founding Fathers had a period-appropriate notion of PTS, contextually supportive of the big ideas behind it, and resplendent with hope and faith for future peace. There are other strengths, however, that the United States possesses and nurtures which are undeniably elements of national prowess. These include our homeland values of courage, benevolence, individualism, economic opportunity, and generosity. These and other American values continue to attract many to our shores. Along with military superiority, they make us strong and resilient. That’s a certain broadening of the word strength in the term peace through strength.

Bob Brescia, Ed.D. of Odessa is a Teacher of Record for Ector County Independent School District, and an adjunct professor for Wilmington University. He previously served as the Executive Director for The John Ben Shepperd Public Leadership Institute and served as the Head of School for Saint Joseph Academy in Brownsville. He is a board member at Constituting America in Dallas, a member of the Odessa Information & Discussion Group, and an Advisory Board member for Odessa’s Southwest Heritage Credit Union. He is the former chairman of Basin PBS television and the American Red Cross of the Permian Basin and former president of Rotary International – Greater Odessa. He is also a monthly columnist for the American Society for Public Administration in Washington, DC. Brescia has twenty-seven years of military service as a highly decorated Airborne Ranger Cavalry soldier, NCO, and commissioned officer in the United States Army. He received a Bachelor of Arts (summa cum laude) in Civil Government from Norwich University, a Master of Science in Computer Information Systems and a Master of Arts in International Relations from Boston University – European Division, and a Doctor of Education in Executive Leadership with distinction from The George Washington University.

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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett
Declaration of Independence Signer James Wilson, a Framer of the U.S. Constitution, Supreme Court Justice appointed by George Washington, and author of Lectures on Law.

The previous essay, #17, showed that, according to the principles of the Declaration of Independence, the people of the United States of America have a right, from the “Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God,” to establish their independence and thereby their national sovereignty. Those same principles, however, that establish the right of a people to independence and sovereignty, also impose a duty upon government to protect and maintain that independence and sovereignty once established. This essay will focus further on the principle of America’s national sovereignty upon preventing loss of independence to foreign or global governments acting as with binding authority in attempts to undermine the United States.

The duty of government to maintain national sovereignty and political independence arises from two arguments of the Declaration of Independence regarding the very nature and purpose of government. First, the Declaration of Independence asserts that it is the equal right of every people, sharing the same political principles, to form through consent a government laid on such foundations “as to them shall seem most likely to affect their safety and happiness.” The Declaration of Independence also asserts that “governments are established among men” for the purpose of protecting the natural rights of its citizens. These principles therefore impose a duty upon our government, because independence is necessary in order for us as a people to determine what must be done for national security, which is, in turn, necessary in order for our citizens to peacefully enjoy their natural rights in the pursuit of happiness. A nation must maintain its independence, therefore, free from the political control of any other nation, in order to remain master of its own fortunes. Only when it has such liberty can a nation freely and prudently determine for itself what is necessary for the preservation, security, and happiness of its own people.

The importance of maintaining political independence can also be seen in the writings of American Founder James Wilson, signer of the Declaration of Independence, framer of the United States Constitution, and one of the original Supreme Court Justices appointed by President Washington. In his important work Lectures on Law, Wilson clearly echoed the Declaration of Independence on the right and duty of maintaining independence:

The law of nations, properly so called, is the law of states and sovereigns, obligatory upon them in the same manner, and for the same reasons, as the law of nature is obligatory upon individuals . . . The same principles, which evince the right of a nation to do everything, which it lawfully may, for the preservation of itself and of its members, evince its right, also, to avoid and prevent, as much as it lawfully may, everything which would load it with injuries, or threaten it with danger.[1]

The right and duty of the United States to defend its national sovereignty was also articulated by American courts well into the nineteenth century. In Schooner Exchange v. McFaddon (1812), for example, Chief Justice Marshall wrote that “[t]he world [is] composed of distinct sovereignties, possessing equal rights and equal independence.” In light of those equal rights, Marshall continued:

The jurisdiction of the nation within its own territory is necessarily exclusive and absolute. It is susceptible of no limitation not imposed by itself. Any restriction upon it, deriving validity from an external source, would imply a diminution of its sovereignty to the extent of the restriction, and an investment of that sovereignty to the same extent in that power which could impose such restriction. All exceptions, therefore, to the full and complete power of a nation within its own territories, must be traced up to the consent of the nation itself. They can flow from no other legitimate source. [2]

In its larger sense, political independence especially means the liberty that a people or nation has by right to decide when to engage in war or continue in peace. George Washington understood well that to have full freedom regarding such decisions, the United States should have as little political connection with other nations as possible, by which they might have an undue influence in determining what actions we might – or must – take. This especially meant that we should avoid as much as possible engaging in permanent political or military alliances with other nations – a lesson the United States learned through the controversy over the French Treaties during the French Revolution in the 1790s. During this time, Americans were passionately divided over whether the treaties with the French (agreed to by Congress during the American Revolution) obliged the United States to assist France in its wars against other European nations during the French Revolution. The issue nearly embroiled the United States in the French Revolution against its will and contrary to the desire of Congress.

Reflecting on this challenge to American political independence in his Farewell Address, Washington wrote, “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.” The peace and sometimes the liberty of nations, Washington wrote, had frequently been the victims of such foreign attachments. This is especially so when “the policy and will of one country, are subjected to the policy and will of another” through permanent alliances. Washington understood, therefore, that having “command of one’s own fortunes” could hardly apply to a slave any more than to a people who “interweave [their] destiny with that of any part of Europe, [or] entangle [their] peace and prosperity in the toils of European Ambition, Rivalship, Interest, Humour or Caprice.” Only when a people remains politically independent can it be free to select the means most conducive to its own safety and happiness; or, as Washington wrote, free to “choose peace or war, as our interest, guided by justice, shall counsel.”[3]

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.

[1] James Wilson, Lectures on Law, in Collected Works of James Wilson, edited by Kermit L. Hall and Mark David Hall, Volume I (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 2007), 529 and 536.

[2] Schooner Exchange v. McFaddon (7 Cranch 116 1812), The Founders’ Constitution, (accessed January 5, 2010)(emphasis added).

[3] Washington, Farewell Address, 1796.

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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett
2nd Continental Congress Vote on Declaration of Independence by Robert Edge Pine


Essay Read By Constituting America Founder Actress Janine Turner


“That these are our grievances which we have thus laid before his majesty, with that freedom of language and sentiment which becomes a free people claiming their rights, as derived from the laws of nature, and not as the gift of their chief magistrate: Let those flatter who fear; it is not an American art. To give praise which is not due might be well from the venal, but would ill beseem those who are asserting the rights of human nature. They know, and will therefore say, that kings are the servants, not the proprietors of the people.” – Thomas Jefferson in his pamphlet, “A Summary View of the Rights of British America” July 1774, Williamsburg, Virginia.

This essay by Thomas Jefferson, written two years before Congress would declare American independence, contains many of the same arguments that would eventually justify the separation of Great Britain in 1776. Here Jefferson speaks of the natural rights of “a free people,” and calls the King a “servant” rather than the “proprietor” (or owner) of the people. As essay #9 of this study showed, Americans had been developing the idea that those who govern must do so for the good of the people, rather than use their subjects for their own good, and Jefferson’s argument in “A Summary View” echoes that sentiment.

It is also important to note that the quote from Thomas Jefferson’s “Summary View of the Rights of British America” reveals that the American Revolution involved more than the legal separation of the United States from Great Britain. It was at its core an ideological movement that was motivated by a political philosophy shared in common not only by the prominent movers of events but by Americans in general. This philosophy, commonly referred to as social compact theory, led to and supported the principles contained in the Declaration of Independence, which in turn expressed the principles upon which American national sovereignty and independence are justified.

The Declaration of Independence begins and ends with statements regarding the right of a people to establish and maintain their national sovereignty. The Declaration asserts that “one people” are entitled to assume a “separate” station from all others, and they derive this right – a right that is shared equally by all peoples – from “the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God.” It begins with the claim that the “laws of Nature and Nature’s God” entitle “one people,” when necessary, to “dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another,” and “to assume among the powers of the earth” a “separate and equal station.” It ends with the claim that as “free and independent” states, the United States have dissolved “all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain,” and therefore “have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which Independent States may of right do.”

The opening and closing paragraphs of the Declaration of Independence, therefore, have this principle in common – for a people or nation to be “free and independent,” it must totally dissolve “all political connection between them” and other nations. The immediate purpose of the Declaration of Independence was to formalize our separation from Great Britain; but it also expressed a fundamental principle – to be truly free and independent (i.e., sovereign over its own affairs) the United States ought to have no political connection with any other nation.

Like individual liberty, national independence is necessary to allow one people, through their government, to decide for themselves how best to secure and exercise their individual liberty. The first paragraph of the Declaration of Independence therefore transposed the principle of individual liberty to apply to whole peoples and nations. Nations are described as having the right, by the “Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God,” to an equal station as “free and independent” states. And individuals are described as having the equal unalienable or natural right to liberty. The Declaration of Independence teaches us, therefore, that there is an inseparable connection between individual liberty and political independence – or what one might call “national liberty” – and it establishes this fundamental relationship in its very first paragraph.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


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Guest Essayist: Tom Hand
During the War of 1812, the American Flag over Fort McHenry inspired Francis Scott Key to write what eventually became America’s National Anthem, the Star Spangled Banner. The flag hangs in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History.

Essay Read By Constituting America Founder, Actress Janine Turner


Citizenship goes well beyond being a citizen. According to the Fourteenth Amendment, “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” But it does not require citizens to do anything to maintain it. It confers a right but does not demand a responsibility.

Practicing good citizenship, doing things such as voting, serving your country, following the law of the land, and getting involved in your local community is that unstated, corresponding responsibility. It is that one overarching shared responsibility that gives people common ground and brings them and binds them together and makes cities and towns, rich and poor, men and women, and all races one nation.

So how does a nation inspire its citizens to voluntarily practice good citizenship? How does a nation get its people to do something that takes effort but is not required? What does it take to move citizens beyond “self” and towards the “whole,” beyond “me” and towards “us?”

It is really quite simple; it is love of country. It is human nature for one to treat better and care for more thoughtfully that which they love. It is no different with citizenship. For citizens of the United States, those that love the country best will serve it best. It was certainly the case during our founding era.

Amor patriae is Latin for love of country. It is a noble concept, but what does it mean and how is it manifested? Is it done by flying a flag from your front porch on Independence Day or singing a heartfelt Star Spangled Banner at a ballgame or cheering as America wins yet another gold medal at the Olympics? It is all that but so much more.

Men more eloquent than I have discussed it through the ages. Seneca, the great Roman philosopher, stated “Men love their country, not because it is great, but because it is their own.” Seneca is correct. In many facets of life, we justly love that which is ours, including and even especially, our country. This love of country is not determined by an individual’s wealth but runs deeper than that and transcends material property and wages.

Love of country requires an unselfishness that drives men to reach for a higher place and to love something greater than oneself as Katharine Lee Bates described in America the Beautiful.

O beautiful for heroes proved

In liberating strife,

Who more than self their country loved,

And mercy more than life!

Love of country amongst a people leads to a unity of purpose that is critical to a nation’s success. As George Washington noted in his Farewell Address, “The Unity of Government which constitutes you one people is also now dear to you. It is justly so; for it is a main Pillar in the Edifice of your real independence, the support of your tranquility at home; your peace abroad; of your safety; of your prosperity; of that very Liberty which you so highly prize.” Washington continues that we must be ever on our guard and “watching its preservation with jealous anxiety…and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our Country from the rest.”

Love of country is inspirational and creates pride deep within the soul for one’s homeland and those without this feeling are to be pitied. As Walter Scott lamented for such a man in The Lay of the Last Minstrel.

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,

Who never to himself has said,

This is my own, my native land!

Love of country is a beautiful thing, but it can be a terrible beauty for it compels us forward down a path we may otherwise lack the courage to take as described in the sad Irish ballad The Patriot Game.

For the love of one’s country is a terrible thing.

It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,

And makes us all part of the Patriot Game.

Love of country can fade from the forefront of our minds and the United States, and its countless blessings, can be taken for granted. But sad is the man who would lose his country as Edward Everrett revealed in his short story The Man Without a Country. This poignant tale tells of Philip Nolan, a young American officer turned traitor who wishes to be rid of his country and is granted his wish.

Near the end of his life, Nolan, who has yearned for his wish to be reversed, scolds a young sailor for expressing disgust with the United States: “Remember boy, that behind all these men…behind officer and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself, your Country and that you belong to her as you belong to your own mother. Stand by her boy as you would stand by your mother.”

Love of country was the single greatest influence upon our Founding Fathers as they formed our nation and our Constitution. But their love of country was not something they sought, it developed freely within each Patriot and love of country inspired each in his own way.

Love of country propelled George Rogers Clark down the Ohio to Kaskaskia and then across the frozen wilderness to capture Fort Sackville and Vincennes in 1779, securing the Ohio Valley for America.

Love of country led Daniel Morgan to gather a company of stalwart Virginia riflemen and lead them to Boston soon after the “shot heard round the world” was fired at Lexington and Concord and continue on to his memorable victory at Cowpens.

Love of country caused Nathanael Greene to leave his successful merchant business and Caty and the children and take up arms for a righteous cause and drive Cornwallis from Georgia and the Carolinas.

Love of country influenced John Adams, the Puritan Patriot from Boston, to forego his prosperous law practice and travel to Philadelphia and the First Continental Congress in 1774 to start the march towards nationhood, stating “Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I am with my country…You may depend upon it.”

And it was love of country that inspired George Washington, one of the wealthiest men in the colonies and arguably the man with the most to lose, to risk it all to lead a fledgling army in a war that seemed unwinnable. Later, when the nation he had helped bring forth was struggling under the Articles of Confederation, Washington again came to her aid to lead the Constitutional Convention and guide us as we learned how to govern in a Constitutional republic. The Indispensable Man did all this for love of country.

So why should love of country matter to us today? We must recognize that it birthed our country, it grew our country, and, without it, we could lose our country.

Tom Hand is creator and publisher of Americana Corner. Tom is a West Point graduate, and serves on the board of trustees for the American Battlefield Trust as well as the National Council for the National Park Foundation.

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Guest Essayist: Scot Faulkner
Two Treatises of Government by John Locke, first edition published in 1689, title page dated 1690.

Essay Read By Constituting America Founder, Actress Janine Turner


“They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house?” – Patrick Henry, in a speech delivered at St. Johns Church, Richmond, Virginia, March 23, 1775

When and how should citizens confront abuses of power by their government?

This is a fundamental question that has shaped political discourse for centuries.

Patrick Henry, and the other colonial leaders who galvanized opposition to the predations of George III, drew upon English legal precedents and Enlightenment philosophy. They built their rebellion against tyrannical overreach on foundations laid by their English ancestors.

There has always been conflict between those who desire unbridled power and those they govern. Often this conflict was settled through force of arms. On June 15, 1215, it was settled by force of law.

Rebelling English nobles forced King John to sign a “Great Charter of Freedoms,” now known as the Magna Carta. The Charter became the basis for English Common Law and the laws of most English-speaking nations, particularly the United States.

While the Magna Carta focused on individual rights and the legal system (such as trial by jury), Clause 61 empowered citizens to rein in overreaching government. It created a Council of 25 barons to monitor and enforce King John’s compliance with the Magna Carta. This included controlling feudal payments to the Crown, and by implication how the Crown spent “public” funds and governed. Clause 61 included real sanctions: If John did not comply with the provisions of the Magna Carta, “the 25 barons were empowered to seize the King’s castles and lands until, in their judgement, amends had been made.

King John colluded with the Pope to undermine the Magna Carta, but his successors reissued it and it became a formal part of English law.

During the 13th through 15th centuries, Magna Carta was reconfirmed at least 32 times. The first item of parliamentary business was a public reading and reaffirmation of the Magna Carta.

The Stuart line of kings challenged the four-hundred-year Magna Carta balance of power to their peril. King Charles I asserted he would not be reined in by Parliament. This led to civil war and his beheading in 1649. During the post-Civil War Restoration, Charles II adopted a more passive approach to governing. However, James II ignored his elder brother’s compliance with Parliamentary restrictions which led to his being overthrown during the “Glorious Revolution” of 1688.

Parliamentary ascendancy, and ultimate permanent dominance under a “Constitutional Monarchy,” was buttressed by philosophical publications. These writings gave broader context to how power must be reined in and how it should be done under law.

In 1680, Henry Care published English Liberties. It established individual rights as bestowed at birth, not by government. Care formally asserts,

“each man having a fixed Fundamental Right born with him as to the Freedom of his Person and Property in his Estate, which he cannot be deprived of, but either by his consent, or some Crime for which the Law has Imposed such a Penalty as Forfeiture.”

He describes the balance of a reined-in government, “qualified Monarchy, where the King is vested with prerogatives sufficient to support Majesty; and restrained from power of doing himself and his people harm.”

Care supported his philosophical doctrine with a compendium of foundational political documents. He made the Magna Carta central to history and to the contemporary legitimacy of individual freedom and control of government overreach. English Liberties became very popular in British reform (Whig) circles and widely read among leaders in the American colonies.

Even more popular among colonial thinkers and activists was John Locke’s Two Treatises of Government published in 1689.

Locke’s Second Treatise describes the importance of a civilized society based on natural, God given, rights. It supports the social contract theory of the governed consenting to limited government in exchange for a secure and stable environment in which individual activity and commerce can thrive. It became the primary conceptual work defining traditional 18th and 19th Century Liberalism.

Locke’s Second Treatise was frequently cited in Colonial debates about George III’s taxes and other punitive measures that comprised the King’s overreach and over reaction to colonial freedom.

Locke describes the balance of power between an executive (or monarchy) which is a “Power always in being that must perpetually execute the law” and the legislature which is the “supreme power of the Common wealth…governments are charged by the consent of the individual, i.e. the consent of the majority, giving it either by themselves, or their representatives chosen by them.”

Locke promotes the proposition that a full economic system could exist within the “state of nature.” Property predates the existence of government. Society should be dedicated to the protection of property. He expanded on Care’s “social contract” theory and explains how the “consent of the governed” may be withdrawn when power is abused, thus serving to rein-in government overreach.

The philosophy of Two Treatises is echoed throughout the Declaration of Independence. Thomas Jefferson wrote: “Bacon, Locke, and Newton – I consider them as the three greatest men that have ever lived, without any exception, and as having laid the foundation of those superstructures which have been raised in the Physical & Moral sciences.”

The foundations of the Magna Carta, English Common Law, and the writings of Care and Locke birthed our nation. They guide and inspire citizen oversight and empowerment to this day.

Scot Faulkner is Vice President of the George Washington Institute of Living Ethics at Shepherd University. He was the Chief Administrative Officer of the U.S. House of Representatives. Earlier, he served on the White House staff. Faulkner provides political commentary for ABC News Australia, Newsmax, and CitizenOversight. He earned a Master’s in Public Administration from American University, and a BA in Government & History from Lawrence University, with studies in comparative government at the London School of Economics and Georgetown University.

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Guest Essayist: Andrew Langer

Essay Read By Constituting America Founder, Actress Janine Turner


“Congress shall make no law… abridging the freedom… to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” – United States Constitution, Amendment 1

A key element in America’s quest for independence was the ire that certain colonists felt at being taxed without representation (an overly simplified view of decades of frustration at a variety of policies imposed by the British Crown on Colonial America without the consent of the citizens of the colonies). Part and parcel of this was the difficulty the citizens had in presenting those grievances to the crown (or parliament), and the perception that those who did voice concerns or opposition were singled out for punishment by the government.

So as the Constitution was being drafted, and further constraints were being placed on the power of government via the Bill of Rights, the founders included language in the First Amendment ensuring that citizens would retain a right to so petition the government when they were aggrieved—with a corresponding assurance found in the Fifth Amendment, that when such substantive petitioning is made, “due process” is accorded to the petitioner i.e., that a fair and just process is made available to the person or persons petitioning.

When most people consider this, they think about the right of individuals to advocate or otherwise speak their minds before legislators, i.e., to offer their opinions on legislation. But in an era in which policy is increasingly being delegated to the Executive Branch, it is important to examine how this right, or civic duty, is protected within the context of the “administrative” state.

When Congress passes a law, it is then up to the Executive Branch to interpret and enforce that law, to “administer” it, in other words, and thus the “administrative” state. The more vague that law might be (and sometimes not so vague), the greater leeway an agency has to interpret that law.

For example, Congress passes the Clean Water Act in 1972. In that law, they make it illegal to pollute a navigable water of the United States.  Because Congress failed to define words or phrases like “pollute” or “navigable” or “water of the United States,” they left it up to the Executive Branch to define them.

The right to petition then plays a singular role in this. The agency presents its proposal for how to define terms or, more broadly, how they plan on interpreting and enforcing any piece of legislation, and it then opens a process whereby the public can comment on their proposals.

This process is government by a law known as the “Administrative Procedure Act” (APA). The APA was passed by Congress in 1946 in order to standardize the petitioning/commenting process across the federal executive branch. Prior to that point, each agency had the discretion to create its own process, something that could make overly complicated the ability of citizens to exercise their right to petition for redress.

Now, with few exceptions, the process by which someone can “comment” on a “rulemaking” is the same regardless of whether someone is filing that comment with the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) or the Department of the Interior. A “rulemaking” is the standard term whereby an agency goes through the process or creating or amending the regulations that have been created out of congressional legislation. A “comment” is just that, the opinion filed by a person or group regarding that regulatory proposal.

At its most basic level, the process works this way: either Congress passes a new law, or amends a law, or the agency wants to make changes to existing policies, and they announce this in a daily publication called The Federal Register. They offer their proposal in something called a “Notice of Proposed Rulemaking” or, less frequently, an even earlier step called an “Advanced Notice of Proposed Rulemaking,” and tells the public how they can comment on those proposals.

Anyone can file a comment—and it has never been easier to do so.  Most agencies utilize an online portal called Regulations.Gov to both announce proposals and solicit for comments, and comments can be submitted online with a matter of clicks.

It is a system that the founding fathers would have enthusiastically applauded. Though many would have been horrified at the concentration of power in the Executive Branch, the idea that any citizen could, with the touch of a button, voice their substantive concern about a policy proposal would have heartened them at the same time. They just would have been concerned that not more people were aware of this.

As part of the APA, agencies are required to answer such “petitions” (when they are substantive) in the publication of their “final rule” i.e., the finalized regulatory policy—either demonstrating where they have made changes to the proposal in accordance with those substantive comments, or explaining why they didn’t make such changes. Failure to do so opens the regulation to court challenges, on the grounds that the new rule is “arbitrary, capricious, an abuse of discretion or otherwise not in accordance with the law.”

Even better, the APA doesn’t require that the citizenry wait until the agency makes a regulatory proposal in order to have changes to a rule made. Another aspect of the manifestation of the right to petition for the redress of grievances within the APA is the right to petition a regulatory agency to open up a rulemaking—again, with the agency being required to respond if they decide to not go through a new rulemaking process.

While the APA’s rulemaking process applies to nearly all agencies, agencies within the national security and defense spheres are generally recognized to be exempt, though some will engage in this “notice and comment” process when they have policy changes that they know will be controversial or otherwise of tremendous interest to the public.  Likewise, transactional decisionmaking and contracting are not open to this APA’s process (though citizens always have the right to comment on such issues with those agencies).

What is worth noting is that the deliberative process of the APA can be frustrating, especially to policymakers, and the citizenry needs to be on guard for when agencies attempt to sidestep the APA. Increasingly, agencies are turning to what they claim are quasi-rulemakings—smaller proceedings that these agencies claim are not subject to the full APA notice-and-comment process. These agencies create guidance documents and interpretation letters purporting to carry the full force of regulatory law, but aren’t subject to the full vetting that a rulemaking allows.

The Competitive Enterprise Institute refers to such activity as “regulatory dark matter”—and while in January of 2017 the President created an executive order to substantially rein in regulatory dark matter, the following administration undid that executive order almost immediately upon taking office in 2021.

Thankfully, Congress is becoming ever more aware of the problem of regulatory dark matter, and is working to hold the executive branch accountable.

In the end, given the size and scope of the modern administrative state in the U.S., the notice and comment process under the APA is of vital importance, and emblematic of the enduring importance of the right, or civic duty, to petition our government for a redress of grievances.

Andrew Langer is President of the Institute for Liberty, as well as Chairman and Founder of the Institute for Regulatory Analysis and Engagement. IFL is a non-profit advocacy organization focused on advancing free-market and limited government principles into public policy at all levels. IRAE is a non-profit academic and activist organization whose mission is to examine regulations and regulatory proposals, assess their economic and societal impacts, and offer expert commentary in order to create better public policies. Andrew has been involved in free-market and limited-government causes for more than 25 years, has testified before Congress nearly two dozen times, spoken to audiences across the United States, and has taught at the collegiate level.

A globally-recognized expert on the impact of regulation on business, Andrew is regularly called on to offer innovative solutions to the challenges of squaring public policy priorities with the impact and efficacy of those policies, as well as their unintended consequences. Prior to becoming President of IFL and founding IRAE, he was the principal regulatory affairs lobbyist for the National Federation of Independent Business, the nation’s largest small business association. As President of the Institute for Liberty, he became recognized as an expert on the Constitution, especially issues surrounding private property rights, free speech, abuse of power, and the concentration of power in the federal executive branch.

Andrew has had an extensive career in media—having appeared on television programs around the world. From 2017 to 2021, he hosted a highly-rated weekly program on WBAL NewsRadio 1090 in Baltimore (as well as serving as their principal fill-in host from 2011 until 2021), and has filled in for both nationally-syndicated and satellite radio programs. He also created and hosted several different podcasts—currently hosting Andrew and Jerry Save The World, with long-time colleague, Jerry Rogers.

He holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration from Troy University and his degree from William & Mary is in International Relations.

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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett

Essay Read By Constituting America Founder, Actress Janine Turner


The New England Primer
was an educational book, first published in the colonies in the 1690s. For over 100 years, it was used by parents to teach their children to read. Even more than that, the selections of readings – which included plays and poetry – in the primer were meant to give lessons that taught children the importance of morality and virtue. The book was especially popular in New England colonies, where Americans had been enjoying a large degree of political independence from Great Britain and personal freedom in their individual lives. The importance of civic virtue in a republic, as taught by the lessons in the primer, were described by several prominent New Englanders at the time of the American Founding.

Samuel Williams, a professor at Harvard College, wrote about the importance of education in The Natural and Civil History of Vermont in 1794. “Among the customs which are universal among the people, in all parts of the state,” Williams wrote, “one that seems worthy of remark, is, the attention that is paid to the education of children.”[1] Williams continued:

“The aim of the parent, is not so much to have his children acquainted with the liberal arts and sciences; but to have them all taught to read with ease and propriety; to write a plain and legible hand; and to have them acquainted with the rules of arithmetic, so far as shall be necessary to carry on any of the most common and necessary occupations of life.”

In addition to be useful in their daily lives, this education was also meant to shape them into being good citizens.

“All the children are trained up to this kind of knowledge: They are accustomed from their earliest years to read the Holy Scriptures, the periodical publications, newspapers, and political pamphlets; to form some general acquaintance with the laws of their country, the proceedings of the courts of justice, of the general assembly of the state, and of the Congress, &c. Such a kind of education is common and universal in every part of the state.”

This education produces “plain common good sense” as well as “virtue, utility, freedom, and public happiness,” all of which are especially important among citizens in a free society. This view of the purpose of education was also expressed by an anonymous author in a Boston essay titled The Worcester Speculator No. VI in 1787. “If America would flourish as a republic,” he wrote, “she need only attend to the education of her youth. Learning is the palladium of her rights—as this flourishes her greatness will increase.”[2] The author continued:

“[I]n a republican government, learning ought to be universally diffused. Here every citizen has an equal right of election to the chief offices of state. … [E]very one, whether in office or not, ought to become acquainted with the principles of

civil liberty, the constitution of his country, and the rights of mankind in general. Where learning prevails in a community, liberality of sentiment, and zeal for the public good, are the grand characteristics of the people.”

As proven by the effectiveness of The New England Primer, the Worcester Speculator especially emphasized the usefulness of literature for inculcating virtue and morality in students. “If we would maintain our dear bought rights inviolate,” he wrote, “let us diffuse the spirit of literature: Then will self-interest, the governing principle of a savage heart, expand and be transferred into patriotism: Then will each member of the community consider himself as belonging to one common family, whose happiness he will ever be zealous to promote.”

Benjamin Rush of Pennsylvania also wrote about the purpose of education in ways very similar to that of New England. In his A Plan for the Establishment of Public Schools and the Diffusion of Knowledge in Pennsylvania, Rush described the “influence and advantages of learning upon mankind.”[3]

I. It is friendly to religion, inasmuch as it assists in removing prejudice, superstition, and enthusiasm, in promoting just notions of the Deity, and in enlarging our knowledge of his works.

II. It is favorable to liberty. A free government can only exist in an equal diffusion of literature. Without learning, men become savages or barbarians, and where learning is confined to a fewpeople, we always find monarchy, aristocracy, and slavery.

III. It promotes just ideas of laws and government.

Rush was particularly concerned with the effect education – especially through the teaching of history – should have on the citizen in a free republic. “He must watch for the state as if its liberties depended upon his vigilance alone,” Rush wrote, “but he must do this in such a manner as not to defraud his creditors or neglect his family.” Rush continued:

“He must love private life, but he must decline no station, however public or responsible it may be, when called to it by the suffrages of his fellow citizens. … He must love character and have a due sense of injuries, but he must be taught to appeal only to the laws of the state, to defend the one and punish the other. He must love family honor, but he must be taught that neither the rank nor antiquity of his ancestors can command respect without personal merit. … He must be taught to love his fellow creatures in every part of the world, but he must cherish with a more intense and peculiar affection the citizens of Pennsylvania and of the United States.”

The lessons in morality and civic virtue these authors found most important in a free republic were promoted well by the fundamental education students received through The New England Primer well into the eighteenth century.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


[1] Samuel Williams, The Natural and Civil History of Vermont, 1794, available at

[2] The Worcester Speculator, No. VI, 1787, available at

[3] Benjamin Rush, A Plan for the Establishment of Public Schools and the Diffusion of Knowledge in Pennsylvania, 1786, available at

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Guest Essayist: Joerg Knipprath
John Adams, author of “A Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States of America” and principal drafter, Massachusetts Constitution of 1780.

Essay Read By Constituting America Founder, Actress Janine Turner



The direct and essential connection among education, civic virtue, and good republican government was a self-evident truth for many late-18th-century American political and religious leaders. There was far less agreement, however, as to what exactly constituted virtue, to what extent “the people” were capable of exercising civic virtue, and if one could count on virtue to restrain political leaders, either because the leaders themselves would possess a sufficient measure or because the people would use theirs to keep the leaders in check. During the debates in 1787 and 1788 over the adoption of the new federal constitution, civic, or public, virtue was a frequent topic of discussion. To opponents of the proposed government, it was axiomatic that, however virtuous the people might be, they would not be able to control corrupt factional leaders in a far-away central government. Supporters, in turn, scaled heights of flattering rhetoric to extol the strength of republican virtue among the American people.

Virtue might be the coin of the realm for good government in the minds of American republicans of the time, but there was no consensus about its proper alloy. To New Englanders, such as Adams, their Puritan heritage saw virtue in private frugality and sobriety, and public virtue in service and sacrifice for the common good. Moreover, public virtue necessarily arose from private virtue. “Public virtue cannot exist in a nation without private, and public virtue is the only foundation of republics,” John Adams wrote to the historian Mercy Otis Warren in April, 1776. Moreover, republican government was essential to “true Liberty.”

However, man, being fallen, lacked virtue by nature. Virtue had to be taught, but that was a difficult project. Education, though necessary, was not sufficient. Coercion must always be kept near at hand. As John Adams wrote to Thomas Jefferson in October, 1787, “I have long been settled in my own opinion that neither Philosophy, nor Religion, nor Morality, nor Wisdom, nor Interest, will ever govern nations or Parties, against their vanity, their Pride, their Resentment, or Revenge, or their Avarice, or Ambition. Nothing but Force and Power and Strength can restrain them.”

It should be noted that Adams, like many others of the founding generation of American republicans, distrusted pure democracy. In a letter in April, 1814, to the Southern agrarian philosopher John Taylor of Caroline, he wrote, echoing classical political thought,

“Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide. It is in vain to say that democracy is less vain, less proud, less selfish, less ambitious, or less avaricious than aristocracy or monarchy. It is not true, in fact, and nowhere appears in history. Those passions are the same in all men, under all forms of simple government, and when unchecked, produce the same effects of fraud, violence, and cruelty.”

There were limits to the degree to which all people could be trained to civic virtue, limits which inhered in man’s corruption through the passions and in the frailty of the human mind to control them.

For Southern agrarian republicans, private virtue, even if successfully inculcated in the people, could not guarantee civic virtue in the halls of government. Adams’s assertion, “Public virtue cannot exist in a nation without private, and public virtue is the only foundation of republics,” might well be true as far as it went. However, as John Taylor of Caroline wrote, “By expecting publick good from private virtue, we expose ourselves to publick evils from private vices.” The New England solution of using the strong hand of an intrusive government to control private vices was unpalatable to the Southern agrarian class. Instead, they agreed with James Madison in The Federalist No. 51, that there was a “need for auxiliary precautions.”

Those auxiliary precautions included a structure of divided powers where “ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” Good republican government could be fostered by relying not on the public virtue of either political leaders or a civically militant people, but on embracing the reality of conniving and power-hungry politicians whose mutual jealousies would check each other. In similar manner, political factions, that bane of good republican government, being driven by self-interest, would jockey for influence in constantly changing coalitions. Among factions, none would become entrenched, as there were no permanent allies or enemies, only permanent interests, to borrow from Lord Palmerston’s policy description of 19th-century British international relations.

National republicans, such as Alexander Hamilton and George Washington, rejected a fundamental premise that underlay other conceptions of civic virtue. Rather than treat virtue and passions or self-interest as antithetical, and fusing public virtue to private virtue, national republicans simply redefined that relationship. Some private vices were rooted in self-interest, such as the desire for fame, honor, or even wealth, but they could be harnessed to produce great public benefit and, therefore, should be considered civic virtues. Government could create incentives for persons to engage in such “good” passions to produce great public benefit.

Nor were all members of the American elite without doubt about the scope of virtue among the American people or about their capacity to attain a sufficient measure of it. John Adams, as prolific a writer on the connection between virtue and good republican government as lived at the time, warned in a letter in June, 1776,

“The only foundation of a free Constitution, is pure Virtue, and if this cannot be inspired into our People, in a greater Measure, than they have it now, They may change their Rulers, and the forms of Government, but they will not obtain a lasting Liberty.—They will only exchange Tyrants and Tyrannies.”

Whatever their differences about the meaning of virtue and about the capacity of private virtue to produce sufficient public virtue, the expositors of virtue politics generally agreed with Aristotle that education and training in private virtue were necessary to its practice. For most of them, only the broad distribution of land ownership rivaled virtue in promoting and protecting liberty and republican government. Thus, education to virtue was an essential task, even if the outcome was uncertain and incomplete. Education had to be grounded in religion and morality, as those were the sources of virtue. The Northwest Ordinance of 1787, perhaps the greatest peacetime achievement of the Confederation Congress, codified this premise:

“Religion, morality, and knowledge, being necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind, schools, and the means of education shall forever be encouraged.”

President George Washington in his lengthy Farewell Address, published in September, 1796, gave a succinct rhetorical overview of the connection among religion, morality, virtue, and good republican government:

Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality     are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens….And let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.

It is substantially true that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. The rule, indeed, extends with more or less force to every species of free government….

Promote then, as an object of primary importance, institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge.”

There was cause for optimism, as the American population had a high rate of literacy compared to that even of European countries. “Ours are the only farmers who can read Homer,” a self-satisfied Thomas Jefferson boasted in a letter to St. John de Crèvecoeur in January, 1787. Jefferson is well-known for his efforts in the founding of the University of Virginia in 1819, for the design of which he also developed architectural plans. His educational activism was not limited to creating a university. As early as 1785, in his Notes on the State of Virginia, Jefferson laid out a plan to educate younger children of both sexes for three years at public expense, with higher grades open to the boys of parents who could afford the tuition and to a limited number of other boys selected on the basis of their intellectual capabilities. In Jefferson’s somewhat indelicate language to modern ears, “By this means twenty of the best geniuses will be raked from the rubbish annually, and be instructed, at the public expence, so far as the grammar schools go.” His ambitious plan was not realized in any form in Virginia until after the Civil War.

Along with the general goals of imparting knowledge for its own sake and for practical pursuits, Jefferson saw education as a necessary process for republican government. Perhaps his best-known aphorism regarding the importance of education appeared in a letter he wrote to Colonel Charles Yancey in January, 1816, “If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be.” The antidote to such a doomed expectation was education. “The qualifications for self government in society are not innate. They are the result of habit and long training,” Jefferson wrote to Edward Everett in March, 1824.

Other famous Americans echoed these sentiments. As supposedly worldly and skeptical as he was, Benjamin Franklin nevertheless advised, “A Bible and a newspaper in every house, a good school in every district—all studied and appreciated as they merit—are the principal support of virtue, morality, and civil liberty.” James Madison declared that the Constitution required “sufficient virtue among men for self-government.” Otherwise, “nothing less than the chains of despotism can restrain them from destroying and devouring one another.” The old Son of Liberty, Samuel Adams, opined in a letter to James Warren in 1779, “If Virtue & Knowledge are diffused among the People, they will never be enslav’d. This will be their great Security.”

None of the founding generation appear as convinced of the importance of education and religion to virtue and of virtue to liberty preserved through republican government as Samuel’s cousin John Adams. Despite his occasional doubts and pessimism, Adams was a staunch virtue republican. His writings are filled with quotable passages about the subject. A few will give the essence of his thoughts. Perhaps his best known, expressed in a letter in October, 1798, to officers in the Massachusetts militia, is “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.” This sentiment, embraced the then-common belief that the American experiment in self-government, more than aristocratic or monarchic systems, relied on virtue widely diffused among the general population, or at least among those who would have the privilege to vote or to hold public office.

In the same letter in 1776 in which Adams expressed concern about the state of virtue among his fellow Americans, he also wrote,

“Statesmen my dear Sir, may plan and speculate for Liberty, but it is religion and morality alone which can establish the principles upon which freedom can securely stand. The only foundation of a free constitution is pure virtue.”

To complete the causal chain, one may point to his 1765 Dissertation on the Canon and Feudal Law, where he asserted, “Liberty cannot be preserved without general knowledge among the people.”

These quotations are not merely a string of disjointed musings. The writers put practical efforts behind their firm and constant beliefs, beliefs shared by Americans generally. Jefferson’s contributions to education have already been noted. Adams was the principal drafter of the historically important Massachusetts Constitution of 1780. That charter declared that “the happiness of a people, and the good order and preservation of civil government, essentially depend upon piety, religion, and morality ….” Article V formally encouraged the development of publicly-funded primary and grammar (secondary) schools. To justify that effort, the section began, “WISDOM and knowledge, as well as virtue, diffused generally among the body of the people, [are] necessary for the preservation of their rights and liberties ….”

Joerg W. Knipprath is an expert on constitutional law, and member of the Southwestern Law School faculty. Professor Knipprath has been interviewed by print and broadcast media on a number of related topics ranging from recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions to presidential succession. He has written opinion pieces and articles on business and securities law as well as constitutional issues, and has focused his more recent research on the effect of judicial review on the evolution of constitutional law. He has also spoken on business law and contemporary constitutional issues before professional and community forums, and serves as a Constituting America Fellow.

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Guest Essayist: Andrew Langer
United States Constitution showing the first page with Article I, with the Bill of Rights and American Flag

Essay Read by Constituting America Founder, Janine Turner



Since the earliest days of the American founding, a bedrock principle of our republic has been the concept that government is an essential element in protecting and preserving individual rights. In the Declaration of Independence, principal author Thomas Jefferson wrote, “to secure… rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”

Building on this precept, in Federalist 51, James Madison talked about the tension between the necessity of government in protecting individual rights, but the need for the governed to work to constrain the powers of government:

“If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself.”

Our republic is built on a simple, yet powerful, concept: we are endowed by our creator with certain “unalienable” rights.  We cede small measures of those rights to government in the form of powers, in order for the full-measure of our rights to be protected.

This leads to a fundamental axiom: whenever government is enlarged, individual rights are diminished. You cannot reconcile liberty with anti-liberty.

This gives us not only the basic structure of the federal constitution, but most state-based constitutions as well. The Articles of the United States Constitution lay out the powers of government—i.e., what measure of rights we have ceded to the government in the form of powers. The first eight amendments within the Bill of Rights represent further constraints on those powers in order to protect individual rights.

But then the last two amendments in the Bill of Rights, Amendments 9 and 10, make further declarations regarding the balancing of rights versus the powers of government.

The Ninth Amendment makes it clear that the rights of citizens aren’t limited to what is “enumerated” in the Bill of Rights, that their rights are essentially infinite, while the Tenth Amendment underscores this idea that the powers of government are created by the people giving up some measure of their rights—and anything not “delegated” to government is “reserved” by the people.

Further, while a New Deal-era Supreme Court dismissed limitations on federal power in cases like US v. Darby, even that court had to admit that when it comes to the Tenth Amendment, it states, “a truism that all is retained which has not been surrendered.” US v. Darby, 312 US 100, 124 (1941)

This tension underscores the fundamental beauty of our system—we are not a pure democracy (something our founders were rightly skeptical of).  As the saying goes, “democracy is two wolves and a sheep deciding what to have for supper.”

We recognize that while the people can vote to make particular laws, those laws can only exist within the powers the people have delegated to government and they cannot be violative of the rights retained by the people. So while one group of people, even a majority of the people, might demand that government impose restrictions on certain kinds of unpopular speech, the First Amendment makes it clear that such restrictions would be unconstitutional (and one can say that the entire purpose of the First Amendment is to protect “unpopular” speech. “Popular” speech requires no such protection!).

How, then, do we assess this balance between the rights of people and the powers of government?

It starts with a basic inquiry.  All “just” law is born out of the intersection of the exercise of individual rights. One’s right to wave their hands around in a wild interpretative dance (the right to free expression) is limited the moment those hands cross the bridge of someone else’s nose, and violate their right to be secure in their person, free from harm. And when those rights come into conflict, it is the party that is more-aggrieved that the law is supposed to protect (and the law is supposed be more weighted on behalf of those less-able to advocate for themselves).

This presents our society with the need for “balancing tests” to determine where that line ought to be drawn: how is the right to free speech balanced against someone’s right to now be lied about (a harm to their reputation)? Or how is someone’s right not to be harmed by government’s force balanced against the rights of people in a community to not be harmed by that person’s violent actions?

When the public, either through legislation or via the courts, calls for a new law, a new balancing test, the Supreme Court has made it clear that such laws, such decisions, need to be made in a way to be the “least restrictive” way of achieving the government’s goals. This way the rights of the individual are still protected to the maximum extent possible.

While there remains considerable debate as to whether such balancing tests are a good thing, or whether there is harm in the long run from a series of ad hoc inquiries into that balance, in the end it is important to remember that the Constitution sets out essential bedrock principles in that regard. All that is not surrendered is retained, and we should remain vigilant each and every time we look to enlarge the power of government.

Andrew Langer is President of the Institute for Liberty, as well as Chairman and Founder of the Institute for Regulatory Analysis and Engagement. IFL is a non-profit advocacy organization focused on advancing free-market and limited government principles into public policy at all levels. IRAE is a non-profit academic and activist organization whose mission is to examine regulations and regulatory proposals, assess their economic and societal impacts, and offer expert commentary in order to create better public policies. Andrew has been involved in free-market and limited-government causes for more than 25 years, has testified before Congress nearly two dozen times, spoken to audiences across the United States, and has taught at the collegiate level.

A globally-recognized expert on the impact of regulation on business, Andrew is regularly called on to offer innovative solutions to the challenges of squaring public policy priorities with the impact and efficacy of those policies, as well as their unintended consequences. Prior to becoming President of IFL and founding IRAE, he was the principal regulatory affairs lobbyist for the National Federation of Independent Business, the nation’s largest small business association. As President of the Institute for Liberty, he became recognized as an expert on the Constitution, especially issues surrounding private property rights, free speech, abuse of power, and the concentration of power in the federal executive branch.

Andrew has had an extensive career in media—having appeared on television programs around the world. From 2017 to 2021, he hosted a highly-rated weekly program on WBAL NewsRadio 1090 in Baltimore (as well as serving as their principal fill-in host from 2011 until 2021), and has filled in for both nationally-syndicated and satellite radio programs. He also created and hosted several different podcasts—currently hosting Andrew and Jerry Save The World, with long-time colleague, Jerry Rogers.

He holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration from Troy University and his degree from William & Mary is in International Relations.

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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett
Signing of the Declaration of Independence by John Trumbull, displayed in the United States Capitol Rotunda.

Essay Read by Constituting America Founder, Janine Turner



August 1, 1776, Samuel Adams said in his Speech on American Independence,

“When the law is the will of the people, it will be uniform and coherent: but fluctuation, contradiction, and inconsistency of councils must be expected under those governments where every revolution in the ministry of a court produces one in the state. Such being the folly and pride of all ministers, that they ever pursue measures directly opposite to those of their predecessors…We shall neither be exposed to the necessary convulsions of elective monarchies, nor to the want of wisdom, fortitude, and virtue, to which hereditary succession is liable. In your hands it will be to perpetuate a prudent, active and just legislature, and which will never expire until you yourselves lose the virtues which give it existence…Our Union is now complete; our constitution composed, established, and approved. You are now the guardians of your own liberties.”

These words of Samuel Adams justifying the pursuit of American independence represent a view among patriots in Boston that rejected hereditary monarchy in favor of representative or republican government. Adams founded his arguments upon a belief that the legitimate purposes and limitations of civil government could be discerned from an understanding of the laws of nature and natural rights. This view of government, however, had been developing and spreading in the public mind – especially in Boston – for well over a decade prior to the Declaration of Independence.

Bostonians heard these arguments with growing frequency in sermons at their places of worship after the British began to impose oppressive taxes and regulations in the 1760s. Abraham Williams, for example, a Congregationalist pastor in Sandwich, Massachusetts, incorporated a teaching on the laws of nature in his Election Sermon in 1762.[1] Mankind needs government, Williams preached, in order to secure the blessings that God has bestowed upon them. “[W]hen Men enter into civil Societies, and agree upon rational Forms of Government,” Williams said, “they act right, conformable to the Will of God, by the Concurrence of whose Providence, Rulers are appointed…The End and Design of civil Society and Government, from this View of its Origin, must be to secure the Rights and Properties of its Members, and promote their Welfare.” Williams taught that rulers, therefore, must do good, not harm to their subjects. “ In all Governments, Magistrates are God’s Ministers, designed for Good to the People. The End of their Institution, is to be Instruments of Divine Providence, to secure and promote the Happiness of Society.”

The truth of this view, Williams argued, was conclusively demonstrated by the laws of nature. “The Law of Nature (or, those Rules of Behaviour, which the Nature God has given Men, the Relations they bear to one another, and the Circumstances they are placed in, render fit and necessary to the Welfare of Mankind),” Williams continued, “is the Law and Will of the God of Nature, which all Men are obliged to obey.”

Pastor John Tucker of Newbury, Massachusetts, continued to build on this argument in an election sermon in 1771, adding that according to the Laws of Nature, governors rule by the consent of the people. “All men are naturally in a state of freedom,” said Tucker, “and have an equal claim to liberty. No one, by nature, nor by any special grant from the great Lord of all, has any authority over another. All right therefore in any to rule over others, must originate from those they rule over, and be granted by them.” The idea of rule by consent through a social compact also implied that are just limits to what government may do, and also obligations that government must perform.

“Whatever authority therefore the supreme power has, to make laws, to appoint officers, etc. for the regulation and government of the state, being an authority derived from the community, and granted by them,” Tucker concluded, “can be justly exercised, only within certain limits, and to a certain extent, according to agreement.”

In his 1776 sermon titled “On the Right to Rebel against Governors” – another election day sermon in Boston – Samuel West argued that, according to the Laws of Nature, rulers who act contrary to God’s will that the rights of the people be secured from harm may be – and in fact should be – justly resisted and opposed by citizens. “[T]yranny and arbitrary power are utterly inconsistent with and subversive of the very end and design of civil government,” West preached, “and directly contrary to natural law, which is the true foundation of civil government and all politic law. West continued:

Consequently, the authority of a tyrant is of itself null and void; for as no man can have a right to act contrary to the law of nature, it is impossible that any individual, or even the greatest number of men, can confer a right upon another of which they themselves are not possessed; i.e., no body of men can justly and lawfully authorize any person to tyrannize over and enslave his fellow-creatures, or do anything contrary to equity and goodness. As magistrates have no authority but what they derive from the people, whenever they act contrary to the public good, and pursue measures destructive of the peace and safety of the community, they forfeit their right to govern the people.”

West’s argument that rulers who act without consent and contrary to the good of society are illegitimate aligns with many of the same arguments Samuel Adams made in his speech on independence. Adams’ message was widely agreed to in part because it was an argument Bostonians had been hearing and working toward putting into practice for well over a decade. It was a view that would be carried beyond Massachusetts as Americans in other states fought to win an then maintain American independence from British rule.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


[1] This and the following sermons are available from

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Benjamin Franklin’s editorial cartoon entitled “Join or Die” depicting protection and unity of the colonies, May 9, 1754, Pennsylvania Gazette

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One of the purposes of the Constitution of the United States, according to its Preamble, is “to form a more perfect Union.” It was a long road, however, for that Union to be more perfectly established as under the Constitution in 1787. Before the Constitution, the thirteen original states had agreed to a “firm league of friendship” through a compact known as the “articles of Confederation and perpetual Union.”

In July of 1776, the thirteen states engaged in an act of unity by unanimously declaring themselves “free and independent states” no longer under the political authority of Great Britain. Prior to that, in 1774, the thirteen American colonies took the first official steps toward becoming a formal Union through the Articles of Association, which established the Continental Congress and put them on the path to independence.

The pace at which the states moved from being colonies under the authority of the British Crown, to “free and independent states,” and then to the United States of America seemed to quicken and intensify under the pressure of events during the American Revolution and Revolutionary War. But for decades prior, many Americans had been attempting to establish a formal union between the British Colonies in America, primarily for purposes of mutual defense and the protection of British economic interests among the American colonies. These early efforts ultimately made it possible for the states to formally unite as the United States of America. It was not an easy road, however, as many colonies saw their habits, manners, and economic interests as quite different from those of the other colonies. Pulling these vastly different peoples together as one would be a long, arduous task.

One man who made great strides in uniting the colonies for purposes of mutual defense was Benjamin Franklin. In his Autobiography, Franklin writes of a plan of Union he had proposed in 1754. Anticipating an approaching war with France (which did eventually become the French and Indian War of 1754-1763), the British authorized a congress of commissioners from the colonies to convene in Albany, New York to discuss defensive preparations. Franklin took the opportunity to draw up a more extensive plan by which the colonial defenses would be administered by a general government of the Union.

“I projected and drew a plan,” Franklin wrote, “for the union of all the colonies under one government, so far as might be necessary for defense, and other important general purposes. … By this plan the general government was to be administered by a president-general, appointed and supported by the crown, and a grand council was to be chosen by the representatives of the people of the several colonies, met in their respective assemblies.”

Ultimately Franklin’s plan was rejected by the colonial assemblies, because under it the British retained too much political authority over the colonies, and by the British, because it seemed to grant too much independence and self-government to the colonies. Later, in 1788, Franklin would write,

“I am still of opinion it would have been happy for both sides of the water if it had been adopted. The colonies, so united, would have been sufficiently strong to have defended themselves; there would then have been no need of troops from England; of course, the subsequent pretense for taxing America, and the bloody contest it occasioned, would have been avoided.”

Despite the failure of Franklin’s Albany Plan of Union in 1754, it had an important impact on the public mind of American colonials. Franklin, as a well-known and highly respected public figure, was now identified as the leading advocate of colonial unity, inspiring others to consider the possibility of formal union in the future. Furthermore, to promote the Albany Plan, Franklin introduced one of the most important symbols of the American Revolutionary period in his famous “Join, or Die” slogan under the image of a snake cut into thirteen pieces.

Franklin designed the image and published it in his widely read newspaper The Pennsylvania Gazette on May 9, 1754. Almost two decades later, as the Acts of the British Parliament became more unjust and oppressive in the eyes of American colonists in the 1770s, Franklin’s “Join, or Die” image was revived and inspired many people to join with the patriots, thus making possible the Union that eventually emerged from the American Revolution.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


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Republic or Democracy?

A distinction with a difference to the American Revolution.

People often use the term “democracy” when referring to the United States. The distinction between a republic, which is technically what we are, and a democracy seems lost on those who intermingle the terms as if they were synonyms. If you note that we are not a democracy, but a republic, you risk being mocked as strict constructionists overly wedded to technical definitions and unwilling to acknowledge the importance of popular sovereignty and the will of the people in our system.

This is unfortunate, as the question of whether we are a democracy or a republic is an important one, complex, and reliant on clear definitions of words and their use. Strictly speaking, the United States is a representative Republic, not a democracy. The distinction has a difference. It greatly influenced the American Revolution, and arguably saved the future Republic from ruin in its darkest days.

First, some definitions. Merriam-Webster (MW) defines democracy, a noun, as “a government by the people” characterized by “rule of the majority,” and as “a government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation usually involving periodically held free elections.”[1] This, of course, does a pretty good job of describing what most of us believe our government is. We the People are sovereign, and we exercise that power through elections. So far so good.

As for “republic” the definition is similar, but with several important additional elements. Republic is also a noun, meaning (according to MW), “a government having a chief of state who is not a monarch and who in modern times is usually a president,” and “a government in which supreme power resides in a body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by elected officers and representatives responsible to them and governing according to law.”[2]

From these definitions it is clear why there might be some confusion. A representative republic uses “democratic means” to manifest the consent of the governed. We vote for representatives, who vote on measures. Voting is democracy in action, but that does not make the United States a democracy. The measures that our representatives vote on are constrained by law and the Constitution. We do not have pure democracy or “rule by the majority” because we have constitutionally protected rights that cannot be voted away, operate under rule of law, and have, till recently, limited government with limited powers. We also have, however, an expanded voting population that is not limited by aristocracy, wealth, property ownership, or gender. Any citizen, over 18 years of age, can vote. One could say, therefore, that the United States is a democratic representative Republic.

While some might wish to believe so, the founders did not invent the concept of consent of the governed, nor was America the first democracy or republic. Discussion of such concepts had been going on for centuries and republics existed prior to the American Revolution. What the American founders did do was expand the definition of a republic so that it gave more power to the popular will of the people. They were merging, more completely, the idea of a law-based government with the concept of consent of the governed. While in retrospect we see their efforts as woefully incomplete, for the time it was a revolutionary step towards popular sovereignty. Many doubted such an expansion of representation could work over such a large population or territory.

The original text of the United States Constitution never mentions the word democracy, and only mentions republic as a form of government once in Article IV, Section 4 (“The United States shall guarantee to every State in this Union a Republican Form of Government…”). Interestingly, that clause refers to the states, and not the federal government itself. Throughout the text the founders refer to the United States as the “union” or as the “United States” but never a republic or a democracy. The Declaration of Independence does not use either term at all.

That said, the structure laid down in the Constitution contains the elements that MW described, including a “chief of state,” and that power lies with a body of “elected officers and representatives” who vote on the laws that govern the nation. All these officials govern according to law.

That is a Republic, no doubt.

When asked by “Mrs. Powel” upon the passage of the Constitution in 1787 what we had created, Benjamin Franklin famously replied, “a Republic, if you can keep it.”[3]

It is in the phrase “if you can keep it,” however, where we find the true impact of the distinction between republic and democracy. As Richard R. Beeman, Ph.D. writes “we find ample evidence that democratic revolutions do not inevitably lead to national harmony.…We see that the expression of the ‘popular will’ can create a cacophony of discordant voices…In far too many places around the world today, the expression of the ‘popular will’ is nothing more than the unleashing of primordial forces of tribal and religious identity which further confound the goal of building stable and consensual governments.”[4]

What Franklin was concerned about, what he was so prescient about, was the difficulty in preserving the union. That concern was not an idle one, as the Revolution had proven. To keep the union together required a structure that limited conflict and cooled the passions of the mob yet provided ample enough rights and liberties to both the citizen and the to the former colonies to make them support and adhere to the union. Again, quoting Beeman, “the question that has plagued all nations aspiring to democratic government ever since: how to implement principles of popular majority rule while at the same time preserving stable governments that protect the rights and liberties of all citizens.”

In 1776 a stable union did not exist. What did exist was a loose confederation of militia forces and citizens from the thirteen colonies, operating under an ill-defined structure to which their commitment continually wavered. Support for the revolution was not, by any means, universal within these colonies, and the debate between revolution and compromise with Britain raged. To preserve the effort, the founders knew they had to promise both protections from mob rule and protections for popular sovereignty. That was not a trivial endeavor.

Alexander Hamilton wrote of the challenge in a letter to John Jay in November 1775. In that letter he addressed the “passions of men” which provided for a “great danger of fatal extremes.” Hamilton wrote:

When the minds of these are loosened from their attachment to ancient establishments and courses, they seem to grow giddy and are apt more or less to run into anarchy…. In such tempestuous times, it requires the greatest skill in the political pilots to keep men steady and within proper bounds…[5]

Hamilton was concerned about conflict between New York and New England, which threatened a united stance vis-à-vis England. To control intra-colonial conflict, he argued against too much popular sovereignty, i.e., too much democracy. He recognized the need to hold the passions of men at bay, and the skill needed to do that while continuing to keep the support of the colonies.

As the American Revolutionary War against Britain intensified, George Washington was plagued by irregular support from both the colonies and the Continental Congress. His ability to avoid catastrophic defeat is legendary. What perhaps was his greater brilliance was the ability to hold the forces together, keep the states from fighting each other, and channeling the passions of his fighting forces away from each other and towards the enemy. As his letter to the colonies from Valley Forge attests, the distributed nature of the revolutionary coalition put the future of the war in great jeopardy. “In a word, the United and respective exertions of the States cannot be too great, too vigorous in this interesting work, and we shall never have a fair and just prospect for success till our Troops (Officers & Men) are better appointed and provided than they are or have been.”[6]

Washington knew very well that a citizen force of volunteer militiamen, responding only to popular will, while appealing to the revolutionary impulse, was no substitute for a centrally commanded, resourced, trained, and managed force of professional soldiers. Once launched, support to the war had to be controlled by a chief executive and protected by a Congress of representatives whose laws mattered and lasted. Counter to popular legend, it was not the minutemen who won the war. Washington could never have achieved victory had he remained subject to the democratic vagaries of thirteen colonial assemblies guided only by majority rule. “Military necessity required American leaders to change their perceptions of standing armies and challenged their republican ideals of volunteer, part-time military service…ultimately it was the Continental soldiers that would secure victory…”[7]

That the colonies agreed to the creation of the Continental Army is a critical component of the success of the revolution. It is also remarkable given the antipathy they held against standing armies. James Madison, years later during the debates over the Constitution, exposed that antipathy, stating that a “standing military force, with an overgrown Executive will not long be safe companions to liberty,” and that the “means of defense against foreign danger, have been always the instruments of tyranny at home…. armies kept up under the pretext of defending, have enslaved the people.”[8] Yet, despite that view, such a force was authorized by the fledgling republic, saving the effort and leading to victory.

Today, when a riot or mass protest occurs, people in the crowd can often be heard chanting, “this is what democracy looks like.” In a way they are correct, which is why we are a representative Republic.

John Adams famously wrote, in a letter to John Taylor in 1814, “…Democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts and murders itself. There never was a Democracy Yet, that did not commit suicide.” In that same letter, he wrote, “the Athenians grew more and more Warlike in proportion as the Commonwealth became more democratic.”[9] The founders, students of history and great thinkers including those of ancient and classical history, knew the distinction. That they did, saved the new nation.

Our founding was saved by the skill of our “political pilots” to craft a compromise between popular will and the rule of law. We are democratic, but we are not a democracy. We the People are those whose consent is required, but the Constitution is the Supreme Law of the Land.

We would have never made it otherwise.

Jay McConville is a military veteran, management professional, and active civic volunteer currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Public Policy and Administration at the L. Douglas Wilder School of Government and Public Affairs, Virginia Commonwealth University. His studies focus on improving health outcomes through food assistance policy. Prior to beginning his doctoral studies, he held multiple key technology and management positions within the Aerospace and Defense industry, including twice as President and CEO. He now works as a personal trainer and works to improve health and fitness through both his work and study. Jay served in the U.S. Army as an Intelligence Officer, and has also been active in civic and industry volunteer associations, including running for elected office, serving as a political party chairman, and serving multiple terms as President of both his industry association’s Washington DC Chapter and his local youth sports association. Today he serves on the Operating Board of Directors of Constituting America. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in Government from George Mason University, and a Master of Science in Strategic Intelligence from the Defense Intelligence College. Jay lives in Richmond with his wife Susan Ulsamer McConville. They have three children and four grandchildren.



[3] Mrs. Powel was not just a random woman on the street. She was an influential and important member of society, close in association with George Washington. Read more of her interesting story here:







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Other impacts of the Protestant Reformation derive directly from the teachings of John Calvin (1509-1564), a Frenchman by birth who spent most of his life in Geneva, Switzerland. The distinguishing characteristic of Calvinist Protestantism, as presented in his Institutes of the Christian Religion (1535), is the doctrine of predestination, meaning that God has predestined or foreordained some people (called the “elect”) for salvation and others for damnation. This is part of eternal law and, as such, there is nothing anyone can do about it. It is an unchangeable decision made by God, not a matter of the potential believer’s free will. Knowing if one is among the elect is a problem, however. The psychological insecurity this caused was severe.

The German sociologist Max Weber (1864-1920) published The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism in 1905. Written as a response to Karl Marx’s theory of economic determinism, Weber wanted to show that history could have a prime mover other than economics, namely religion, and argued that Calvinists searched for certainty of salvation in a God-given calling (a job or career), unceasing hard work, and the suppression of physical pleasure. In other words, one could know one was among the elect by working hard and saving and investing rather than spending one’s money and enjoying one’s self. This has come to be known as the Protestant or Puritan work ethic.

The argument continues that the Puritans brought this work ethic with them to North America and that it permeated the entire culture.[i]

Prof. Davis calls the Protestant or Puritan ethic “the beginning of the American dream,” saying

Political, social, and economic life in the late twentieth century bears scant resemblance to the Puritan way. Yet the religious doctrine of the Puritans had a profound influence on a central characteristic of our tradition – the American dream. For modern Americans, that dream is typically one that involves success measured in terms of material wealth. . . . To all appearances that dream of success has no connection with the religious views, values, and aspirations of the Puritans. It is possible, nevertheless, to uncover the seeds of the modern individual’s pursuit of private wealth in the seventeenth-century Puritan’s quest for salvation.”[ii]

Puritans on both sides of the Atlantic embraced the ideas of the covenant or social contract (government based on consent of the governed), natural rights, and resistance to unjust authority (which itself was a natural right). Before they disembarked from the Mayflower in 1620 the Pilgrims wrote and signed the Mayflower Compact, thereby creating the first written social contract in history. It was first published in London in 1622 and reads as follows in modern English:

In the name of God, Amen. We, whose names are underwritten, the Loyal Subjects of our dread Sovereign Lord, King James, by the Grace of God, of England, France and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, e&.

Having undertaken for the Glory of God, and Advancement of the Christian Faith, and the Honour of our King and Country, a voyage to plant the first colony in the northern parts of Virginia; do by these presents, solemnly and mutually in the Presence of God and one of another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil Body Politick, for our better Ordering and Preservation, and Furtherance of the Ends aforesaid; And by Virtue hereof to enact, constitute, and frame, such just and equal Laws, Ordinances, Acts, Constitutions and Offices, from time to time, as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the General good of the Colony; unto which we promise all due submission and obedience.

In Witness whereof we have hereunto subscribed our names at Cape Cod the eleventh of November, in the Reign of our Sovereign Lord, King James of England, France and Ireland, the eighteenth, and of Scotland the fifty-fourth. Anno Domini, 1620.”

Twenty-one years later our Puritan forefathers saw the need for a delineation of rights and adopted the Massachusetts Body of Liberties in 1641. This “was the first attempt in the colonies to restrain the power of the elected representatives by appealing to a fundamental document that lists the rights and duties of the people. The document . . . combined the early American covenanting tradition of the Mayflower Compact with an appeal to the common law tradition that crossed the Atlantic from Britain. The Massachusetts Body of Liberties contains ninety-eight sections. . . The most enduring part . . . is the preamble and the first seventeen sections . . .” The preamble reads as follows:

The free fruition of such liberties, immunities and privileges as humanity, civility, and Christianity call for as due to every man in his place and proportion without impeachment and infringement hath ever been and ever will be the tranquility and stability of churches and commonwealths. And the denial or deprival thereof, the disturbance if not the ruin of both.

We hold it therefore our duty and safety whilst we are about the further establishing of this government to collect and express all such freedoms as for present we foresee may concern us, and our posterity after us, and to ratify them with our solemn consent.

We do therefore this day religiously and unanimously decree and confirm these following rights, liberties and privileges concerning our churches, and civil state to be respectively impartially and inviolably enjoyed and observed throughout our jurisdiction forever.

Space limitations preclude including the 17 sections here but they can be accessed at

It is interesting to see how these ideas made their way back across the Atlantic to England. In 1644 a Scottish Presbyterian by the name of Samuel Rutherford published a book in London titled Lex Rex which contained all these ideas. The Puritan Revolution or English Civil War led by Cromwell lasted from 1640 to 1649  and gave birth to Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan, first published in 1651, which was based on the natural right to life and created a powerful state whose legitimacy derived from the consent of the governed to protect it.

This was followed by John Locke’s Two Treatises of Government which were published  in 1689 at the time of the Glorious Revolution and the English Bill of Rights. Locke proposed that government emerges from the consent of the governed to protect the natural rights of life, liberty and property.

These ideas were picked up by the authors and signers of the Declaration of Independence in 1776.

“The American Revolution might thus be said to have started, in a sense, when Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the church door in Wittenberg. It received a substantial part of its theological and philosophical underpinnings from John Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion and much of its social theory from the Puritan Revolution of 1640-1660, and, perhaps less obviously, from the Glorious Revolution of 1689. Put another way, the American Revolution is inconceivable in the absence of the context of ideas which have constituted Christianity. The leaders of the Revolution in every colony were imbued with the precepts of the Reformed faith.[iii]

Winfield H. Rose, Ph.D., is Distinguished Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Murray State University.


[i] Sanford Kessler, “Tocqueville’s: Christianity and the American Founding.”  The Journal of Politics, v. 54 #3, August 1992, pp. 776-792.

[ii] Sue Davis, American Political Thought: Four Hundred Years of Ideas and Ideologies. Prentice Hall, 1996,  p. 22. Emphasis added.

[iii] Page Smith, quoted in Amos and Gardiner, p. 3. Emphasis added.

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Christianity in the Roman Empire was first persecuted, then tolerated, and later adopted as the official religion. The latter development was to the long-term detriment of the faith because, as the Church adopted the structures and procedures of Roman imperial government, it became ever more corrupt, as had the Roman government itself during previous centuries.

The details of this process are beyond the scope of this essay, but suffice it to say at this point that by 1517 a young German monk by the name of Martin Luther (1483-1546) decided change was needed. He, therefore, wrote and tacked his 95 theses on the church door in Wittenburg and launched what came to be the Protestant Reformation, thereby fracturing western Christianity forever.

Professor Sue Davis correctly described this momentous event as follows: “When Martin Luther . . . posted his ninety-five theses on the door of the castle church at Wittenberg in 1517 he initiated a revolution in politics as well as religion.”[i]

The relevance of the Reformation to the American political system can be understood as follows. First, the Reformation divided a Europe that had followed one central faith for centuries into more than two distinct groups in that there was not one Protestant church/faith/denomination but four, to be followed by more later. These four were the Lutherans, the Calvinists, the Anabaptists and the Anglicans in England.

These four groups not only differed from Catholicism, they differed from each other. It was, therefore, unfortunately inevitable that conflict would break out between them. On the continent this took the form of the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648) between German Catholics and Lutherans. There were religious civil wars in France between Catholics and Huguenots (French Calvinists). In England it was the Puritan Revolution/English Civil War, 1640-1649, between Anglicans and those called Puritans who wanted to reform the Church of England along Calvinist lines. This resulted in the regicide of King Charles I and the establishment of the Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell in 1649.

These wars had two significant impacts on what was to become the United States. First, many Europeans tired of the seemingly endless slaughter and religious persecution and desired to escape, thereby emigrating to North America and populating the English colonies.[ii]

Second, after flirting with bringing their sectarian conflicts with them, our forefathers decided to do otherwise, ultimately making religious freedom a part of the United States Constitution in its First Amendment. The American tradition of separation of church and state can be traced directly back to the conflicts spawned by the Protestant Reformation.

In addition, the Protestant Reformation forced a fundamental change in political philosophy. The Magna Carta and Aquinas’ Treatise on Law were minor tremors but the Reformation was a major earthquake in that it articulated a right of resistance to unjust authority.

Romans 13 had been the basis of governmental authority in both the church and state for centuries. Remember that Jamestown had been founded in 1607 and Plymouth in 1620, and that the King James translation of the Bible was published in 1611. The first seven verses of Romans 13 in that translation read as follows:

Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God.

Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation.

For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same:

For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.

Wherefore ye must needs be subject, not only for wrath, but also for conscience sake.

For for this cause pay ye tribute also: for they are God’s ministers, attending continually upon this very thing.

Render therefore to all their dues: tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour.

These powerful words formed the basis of the divine right of kings theory and, in part, the basis of the Pope’s authority in the Church. How could Luther resist the Pope and Church without disobeying Romans 13? He could do so when obeying a higher authority (God) required him to.

According to Luther, it is a sin to obey any authority that forces or tries to force people to do that which is ungodly, unjust, unrighteous, unlawful or, in other words, wrong. A Godly person simply cannot do such things without sinning. As Luther said, “Hier stehe ich; ich kann nicht anders.”

About 150 years later this became “Resistance to tyrants is obedience to God.” The British government was violating God’s law and the Americans had not only the right but the duty to resist. And they did.

Winfield H. Rose, Ph.D., is Distinguished Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Murray State University.


[i] Sue Davis, American Political Thought: Four Hundred Years of Ideas and Ideologies.  Prentice Hall, 1996, p. 10.

[ii] I acknowledge that some came to the New World for personal and economic reasons rather than for religious and political reasons.

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Writing the Declaration of Independence, 1776. Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson working on the Declaration, a painting by Jean Leon Gerome Ferris, 1900

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Driving through Connecticut, you’ll see license plates with the words “Constitution State” inscribed at the bottom of the plate. But wait! Wasn’t the Constitution drafted in Pennsylvania, known as the Keystone State? And wasn’t Delaware, known as the First State, the first state to ratify the Constitution? So why is Connecticut called the Constitution State?

Connecticut did play an important role in the drafting of the United States Constitution, proposing the Connecticut Compromise, also known as the Great Compromise, breaking the impasse created by delegates who favored proportional representation by population and opposed by delegates who favored equal representation by state. Certainly a justifiable reason for Connecticut to call itself the Constitution State, for without that important compromise, a Constitution may never have been agreed upon by delegates from both large and small states.

However, that was not the reason for the adoption of the motto “Constitution State.”  John Fiske, a historian born in Hartford in 1842, stated that the Fundamental Orders of 1639, a social compact created among three towns in what later became the colony of Connecticut, was the first Constitution created in the United States.  The preamble to the document states that, to “maintain the peace and union of such a people, an orderly and decent Government should be established according to God.”

Ordered liberty, defined as “freedom limited by the need for order in society,” is a concept well known by our Founding Fathers. The roots of ordered liberty can be traced back thousands of years. Religious liberty was the motivation for the Pilgrims who landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620; all of them knew their Biblical history of freedom, anarchy, enslavement, totalitarianism, secession, and rejection.

Among other Biblical examples, they may have considered the Book of Nehemiah.  After the fall of Judah in 586 BC, the Israelites were exiled to Babylon. Beginning in 538 BC, groups of Israelites began returning to Jerusalem, which had been destroyed. Over the subsequent 100 years, the city had no effective government, no militia, and the protective walls of the city lay in ruins. In 432 BC, Nehemiah, an Israelite serving the Persian King in Babylon as Cupbearer, had become frustrated hearing from Israelites of the conditions in Jerusalem and received permission from the King to lead a group to Jerusalem to restore order. He had no expertise in construction management, the politics of government, or military tactics, yet, he quickly took command after arriving in Jerusalem and led the citizens to complete the wall of the city, to organize a formal government, and to organize a militia to defend the city.

Recognizing the need for ordered liberty in their new settlement, the Pilgrims, before landing at Plymouth Rock, drafted a compact for the new village they were about to create near current-day Boston; that document, the Mayflower Compact, reflected the Pilgrims’ commitment to God and to the English King.

Soon thereafter, the Massachusetts Bay Colony was chartered by King Charles I in 1629. In 1630, an English lawyer, Roger Ludlow, arrived in Massachusetts and settled in Dorchester. He quickly became involved in Massachusetts political life and helped draft laws of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. However, after only five years in Dorchester, he and other Pilgrims, dissatisfied with religious conflicts in Massachusetts, left Massachusetts to establish a new religious community in what later became the Connecticut Colony. Ludlow settled in Windsor and others settled in the villages of Wethersfield and Hartford, all very close to each other. The three villages were self-governing, but had to unite to fight the Pequot Indians.

Recognizing the need to unite more formally, the three towns, led by Ludlow’s legal expertise, drafted the Fundamental Orders, a formal compact to establish the principles for an orderly confederation-style of government for the three towns. In a sermon that encouraged Ludlow to create the text of the Fundamental Orders, the Rev. Thomas Hooker, a founder of Hartford, dynamic preacher, and inspiration for the Fundamental Orders, said that “The foundation of authority is laid in the free consent of the people. As God has given us liberty let us take it.” Hooker is considered by some to be the father of American democracy. His statement regarding the free consent of the people may have been the first expression in the colonies of a key principle that, more than 100 years later, would find its way into our nation’s founding documents.

Unlike many social compacts at the time, the Connecticut document recognized no allegiance on the part of the colonists to England, but in effect set up an independent government. The Fundamental Orders were intended to be a framework of government more permanent than a compact, and in essence, a constitution. Simeon E. Baldwin, a former Chief Justice of the Connecticut Supreme Court, defended Fiske’s view that the Fundamental Orders of 1639 was the first Constitution created in the United States by stating that

“never had a company of men deliberately met to frame a social compact for immediate use, constituting a new and independent commonwealth, with definite officers, executive and legislative, and prescribed rules and modes of government, until the first planters of Connecticut came together for their great work on January 14th, 1638-9.”

Whereas the Mayflower Compact was designed for a single community, the Fundamental Orders was designed for three communities, further evidence that it was a Constitution, much like the later United States Constitution designed to bring unity among 13 colonies. Also, some features of the Fundamental Orders prefigured the United States Constitution, even if not in exact form. The Orders provided for yearly elections conducted in accordance with Direct Democracy format, appropriate for smaller communities. An annual election was held, during which a Governor and six Magistrates were elected to serve a one-year term of office. Each town also elected two Representatives to a unicameral legislature which met each September in a legislative session. This prefigured the Representative Democracy to be devised in 1787, although the latter resulted in a bicameral legislature. Freemen had a right of petition; and a method was devised to tax each town to raise funds as required for administration of the government. Liberty of speech was emphasized in the Orders and “unseasonable and disorderly speakings” were discouraged. The office of the Secretary of State was officially established in the Fundamental Orders of 1639 and has continued to exist since that time, the oldest Office of the Secretary of State in the United States.

It wasn’t until 100 years later that the Connecticut legislature acted upon Fiske’s opinion about the Fundamental Orders being the first Constitution created in the United States. In 1959, the legislature officially designated Connecticut’s nickname to be The Constitution State. In anticipation of the upcoming bicentennial of the founding of the United States, in 1973 the Connecticut legislature mandated that Connecticut’s license plates should display the state slogan the assembly had adopted 14 years earlier.

Interestingly, Roger Ludlow, the primary architect of the Connecticut Fundamental Orders, grew weary of the challenges of colonial life, and returned to England in 1654, where he died and is buried.

Ron Meier is a West Point graduate and Vietnam War veteran. He is a student of American history, with a focus on our nation’s founding principles and culture, the Revolutionary War, and the challenges facing America’s Constitutional Republic in the 20th and 21st centuries. Ron won Constituting America’s Senior Essay contest in 2014 and is author of Common Sense Rekindled: A Rejuvenation of the American Experiment, featured on Constituting America’s Recommended Reading List.


Neh 1-Neh 7 NABRE – I. The Deeds of Nehemiah Chapter 1 – Bible Gateway

Microsoft Word – DocsOfCTGov.doc

Register and manual – State of Connecticut : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

Roger Ludlow – Wikipedia

Are We the Constitution State? – Connecticut Explored (

Why is Connecticut Called the Constitution State? (

History of Connecticut – Wikipedia

Windsor, Connecticut – Wikipedia

Mayflower Compact – Wikipedia

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Guest Essayist: Joerg Knipprath
Independence Hall, Philadelphia

Essay Read by Constituting America Founder, Actress Janine Turner



In The Federalist No. 6, Alexander Hamilton sought to refute the claim that commercial republics, such as the thirteen original united states, do not go to war with each other, and that, therefore, there was no threat of eventual disunion to be feared from the looser structure of the Articles of Confederation. He cited numerous historical examples, from ancient Greece to more modern times, to challenge that comforting assertion. Hamilton urged, “Let experience, the least fallible guide of human opinions, be appealed to for an answer to these inquiries.” His approach was characteristic of many discourses and arguments in The Federalist. James Madison frequently referred to the history of ancient Greece, while Hamilton repeatedly looked to the fate of the Roman Republic and to the history of English constitutional practice. Other antagonists engaged in similar mode of argumentation in the debate over the fate of the proposed Constitution of 1787.

Indeed, that tactic was not limited to the debates over the Constitution. For example, John Adams extensively discussed the history of Italian republics in his multi-volume work on contemporary state constitutions, A Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States of America, written from 1786 to 1788. After all, history is recorded human experience. The lessons that history might teach are drawn from the often-painful experiences and frequently tragic responses of those who went before us. The need to examine those experiences and debate their lessons was particularly acute when the undertaking was a new political order, Novus ordo seclorum, as the new motto placed on the Great Seal of the United States by the Confederation Congress promised. As Adams wrote to an acquaintance in connection with the publication of Defences, “They [the Italian republics] are the best Models for Americans to Study, in order to show them the horrid precipice that lies before them in order to enable and Stimulate them to avoid it.”

While history is the record of experience which subsequent generations can use as a primer in guiding their affairs, tradition (or custom) is the collective manifestation of that experience. It is “how things are done here.” Tradition sometimes is rejected because it is outdated for modern conditions, or at least appears to be so. But before rejecting tradition, it is wise to remember the precautionary principle captured in G. K. Chesterton’s Fence, an admonition best summarized as, “Do not remove a fence until you know why it was put up in the first place.” Tradition allows us to live in a social community without the chaos and inefficiency of having to learn anew each day how to organize complex human relationships.

The use of tradition to guard against rash, irrational, or oppressive political action has a long heritage. Reliance in ancient Roman republican constitutional practice on the mos maiorum, the tradition of the forefathers, sought to restrain arbitrary actions by ambitious politicians who might threaten the stability of the republic and the well-being of its citizens. Violations of tradition might have disastrous consequences. In Sophocles’s Oedipus Cycle, the Theban princess Antigone attempted to bury her dead traitorous brother in accordance with the ancient tradition rooted in divine commands. In doing so, she defied King Kreon’s decree to let the body be torn apart by animals. The deadly consequences of that decree for Antigone and for Kreon and his family is the stern lesson taught by the dramatist.

Another literary example is in Homer’s Iliad. The downfall of Troy results from the violation of the ancient Greek tradition of hospitality (xenia) by the Trojan prince Paris in running off with Helen, the wife of his host, the Spartan king Menelaus.

A more recent case in point is the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution instigated in the 1960s in Red China by Chairman Mao. He urged radical Red Guards to destroy the “Four Olds,” old ideas, culture, customs, and habits. The disastrous result for the Chinese people was an exemplification of the chaos, misery, and suffering when the bonds of tradition are sundered, and societal fences are torn down irrationally.

American writers of the Founding appealed relentlessly to tradition to justify their actions. Their claims that the British government was violating their ancient rights as Englishmen by enacting statutes, such as the Stamp Act, might have been dubious politically and self-interested economically. Their references to Magna Charta might have been strained as a matter of history. Still, those arguments reflected an attitude Americans maintained throughout the period that theirs was a “conservative” reaction against dangerous constitutional usurpations that went against the very reason for government, namely, to protect human flourishing.

In the same manner, during the debates on the Constitution of 1787, the new charter’s supporters repeatedly rejected the argument that it was a radical anti-republican proposal. Instead, the writers of The Federalist Papers, particularly James Madison, claimed that the new document was built on the Articles of Confederation, with some modifications needed to correct the earlier charter’s most glaring deficiencies. Madison’s claim might have been in tension with the approach adopted early by the Philadelphia Convention of writing a new document rather than proposing amendments to the Articles. It might contradict some of his own positions in that collection of essays. But it was an argument frequently repeated in the state conventions. Indeed, the preamble to the Constitution itself declares that the object was to form a “more perfect Union,” not to create one.

The accumulated wisdom of those who have gone before us, which is reflected in living traditions, plays a particularly prominent role in law. “Law” is associated with constancy, predictability, and knowability. We speak of “laws” of physics, which means that the associated phenomena manifest themselves universally and regularly, that we can predict specific results from their applications, and that we can understand them through observation and reason, often expressed through the language of mathematics. Universal “law” in the context of human action is more speculative, but not entirely so. Discovering such law is predicated on observation and reasoned interpretation primarily of the experiences of people within one’s own culture at different times, but also of those of people in other cultures. Such universal prescriptions of “right” conduct, whether called natural justice, natural law, divine law, or something else, animate not just particular political decrees and legislation but also customs which direct how one should comport oneself more generally.

“Natural law” in that sense is a construct primarily of metaphysics, but also has clear connections to religion. It is an application of tradition to matters of government and politics, but it also has an inherent moral content, rooted in an external source. Consider, for example, the words of Saint Paul in his letter to the Romans that the Gentiles, who do not have the Mosaic law, nevertheless can in their nature act in accordance with the law because it has been placed on each person’s heart by God and is exercised through conscience.

Although natural law has an inherent moral content that exists independently of human practice, that content is best gleaned through investigation of how “things are done” over time and consistently, in other words, experience reflected in tradition. As Aristotle declared in Politics, “observation tells us that every state is an association, and that every association is formed with a view to some good purpose.” The manner in which something operates successfully over time is evidence that it acts in accordance with its true nature or essence.

In jurisprudence and juristic practice, the force of tradition is expressed in one form through the doctrine of stare decisis (“to stand by things decided”), the presumptive adherence to precedent in judicial decisions that promotes the stability and predictability which are the attributes of law. For example, a determination by the Supreme Court of what a provision of the Constitution means is binding on the lower courts. But even in matters heard by subsequent panels of the Supreme Court, the earlier Court’s holding is unlikely to be disturbed. Although this is not an invariable rule, the longer and more frequently that earlier precedent has been followed, the less likely the Court is to disregard it in a similar subsequent case. Many are the paeans that various justices have penned to the doctrine of stare decisis, although the cynic might say that the doctrine lasts only as long as it fits the author’s conception of the “right” result in a particular case. Adherence to precedent allows the courts to guard against the “dangerous innovations in the government,” the function to which Alexander Hamilton pointed in The Federalist No. 78 as the core purpose of judicial review of the constitutionality of legislation.

Because the object of the ethical state is to provide the conditions for human flourishing, those political arrangements which are most successful at that endeavor are the best. Human law is useful to provide the order needed for individual flourishing within a community. But not just any law, only law directed towards that end. The philosophic speculations of Aristotle about the limits imposed by natural justice on the human lawgiver, and the intellectually rich and politically significant investigations of “natural law” by philosophers from the classical Cicero to the medieval scholastic Thomas Aquinas, to the more modern Francisco Suarez and Hugo Grotius address ways to establish an ethical basis for ordinary human law and a proper balance between liberty and order, individual and community.

“Order” can mean many things. Fundamentally, the word conveys stability, rules, and limits. Tradition, law, and order are essentially bound. The concept of natural law is founded on the idea of an orderly universe governed by stable laws of physics and, regarding human action, universal rules of morality. The preeminent expositors of natural moral law, the European scholastics of the Middle Age, lived and wrote in a highly ordered society, where everyone had a designated place in that feudal order. Moreover, it was understood that human society itself existed in a universal order governed by God.

The advent of modernity rejected the strict structural approach of a universal order of which each person was a part. Instead, the focus became on voluntary association and consent as the basis of society, and on individual natural rights, rather than duties and rights derived from one’s place in the “natural” order of things and persons. The problem with a focus on individual will and consent as the basis for individual action is that it invites atomization, subjectivism, moral relativism, and nihilism, concerns vividly raised many centuries ago by Plato in his discussion of the “democratic man” in The Republic. Unbridled liberty is chaotic and threatens to veer into license, as there exist no external standards that can claim inherent legitimacy based on higher moral authority or the moral force conveyed by tradition. Each person becomes a moral standard only onto himself or herself.

Yet the need remains for structure and stability in an orderly society, lest the relations among people devolve into a competition defined solely by power, resembling a Hobbesian state of nature of a war of all against all. The solution proposed by various “left” writers, from Rousseau to Marxist-Leninists of various stripes, of a government where the rulers embody a stylized “general will” of the collective in place of the expression of individual wills inevitably has led to dictatorship and oppression. To have that necessary stability, yet foster individual flourishing, there must be, as various Supreme Court opinions have pronounced, “ordered liberty” whose fundamental principles are protected under the Constitution. The difficulty, of course, lies in striking that balance, of achieving practically what otherwise is only an aspirational slogan.

The Framers of the Constitution and other Americans of that era understood all of this quite well. John Adams and the New Englanders came to this knowledge and conviction easily, based on their Puritan culture. Hard-headed and practical statesmen, such as Alexander Hamilton and George Washington, understood this from life experience in political and military conflict. Even those drawn to more utopian ideas and more naive idealism, such as Thomas Jefferson, were brought down to earth by revulsion at the excesses of the French Revolution set in motion by radical ideologies. Liberty and order, change guarded by tradition, were the guiding principles of the Founders, informed by the lessons of history and by their own experiences.

Joerg W. Knipprath is an expert on constitutional law, and member of the Southwestern Law School faculty. Professor Knipprath has been interviewed by print and broadcast media on a number of related topics ranging from recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions to presidential succession. He has written opinion pieces and articles on business and securities law as well as constitutional issues, and has focused his more recent research on the effect of judicial review on the evolution of constitutional law. He has also spoken on business law and contemporary constitutional issues before professional and community forums, and serves as a Constituting America Fellow.

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Signing of the Constitution - Independence Hall in Philadelphia on September 17, 1787, painting by Howard Chandler Christy, on display in the east grand stairway, House wing, United States Capitol.

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Our Founding Fathers did not create a government or craft a constitution to serve government’s interests or even their own narrow interests. They created a government that focused on securing the liberty of the American people and that strictly limited and checked the power of the federal government. They had a great deal of experience with government that existed for the primary purpose of advancing the interests of those who already had tremendous political power.

They had experienced the tyranny of the British Crown. In the Broadway play “Hamilton,” King George sings, “And when push comes to shove, I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love” and “when push comes to shove, I will kill your friends and family to remind you of my love.” While those exact words were not likely uttered by King George, that was what he did in practice. It also reveals the way so many rulers treated their subjects throughout history.

Our Founders specifically rejected this model of abusive and unlimited government. Virtually every government in recorded history either started out, or became first and foremost about increasing and preserving its own power, influence and prestige at the expense of its subjects. Rarely has government been focused on the citizen’s freedom and opportunity. That may be the rhetoric used to obtain or retain power, but it has rarely been the actual focus of government.

Every dictator in history has made promises of using the power that he sought for the benefit of the people. But virtually none of them have actually done it. It has always been a talking point, but not an action point. Whether it was Mao or Lenin, Hitler or  Mussolini, Castro or Chavez, or the Ayatollah, they all promised to create a more equal and just society, and to right past wrongs. But, of course, history records that they magnified and multiplied the wrongs and made society far worse. They created societies of increased brutality, misery, and poverty.

In contrast, America’s Founders wrote a constitution that limited the power of government — even though they knew that they would likely be the early presidents, cabinet secretaries, congressmen and senators. In other words, they wrote a constitution that limited their own power. That proves they were not cut from the same cloth as most of the rulers we read about in history books. They formed a government designed to limit and check governmental power, but keep the people as free as possible from government’s arbitrary edicts and mandates.

Some argue that one of the weaknesses of our Constitution is that it is difficult and sometimes cumbersome to get things done. But that wasn’t by accident. It was by design. Our Founders understood that government’s power to do evil and to compromise and abridge the natural rights of its citizens was far more significant than the likelihood that government power, if left unchecked, would be used to benefit the citizenry or preserve their freedoms.

So our Founders wisely placed limits on their own power. They did this because they wanted to create a society where the freedoms and the opportunities available to the citizenry were virtually unlimited. They did not see themselves as rulers and American citizens as their subjects. They saw themselves as having been temporarily entrusted with limited powers to govern, not rule; and they saw Americans as citizens, not subjects.

George Washington, the president of the constitutional convention where our Constitution was written, debated and passed, and our nation’s first president, refused to be called by the titles that many of the kings and powerful were called in Europe. He said “No” to being called His Highness, His Excellency, His Mightiness, His Elective Majesty, among others. He said his title should be “Mr. President.”

At that time, those of power and wealth had titles — Lord, Duke, His Grace, etc. In contrast, a person of common station, with no real societal power, was referred to simply as Mister. And that is the title that George Washington chose to emphasize that the government they were forming wasn’t there to benefit those who held office, but to guarantee freedom and opportunity to its people.

But it wasn’t merely George Washington who rejected the historical political power model of Europe. The Founders as a group wanted to build a society whose foundation included the principles of self-government, but that also didn’t subject our basic rights to the popular vote. Simply stated, the Bill of Rights makes it clear that even if the vast majority of Americans don’t like what you’re saying or writing, you have the right to say it or write it.

Even if the majority dislikes you, you have the right to due process and a fair trial if you’re accused of a crime. Even if the government wants your property and claims to need it for the public good, it may not take it from you without paying you for its value. The Bill of Rights, properly understood, is not a statement of rights as much as it is a firm prohibition against government and the majority trying to abridge our God-given rights. So our Founders crafted a government designed to empower the people through majoritarian processes, but also protected our rights — placing them beyond the power of a popular vote or the power of government to abridge.

If we think about the type of constitution that most people throughout history who have aspired to power would write, we would see few limits on their power and a great deal of limits on the people and their rights. But our Founders were very different and that made a huge difference in the sort of nation the United States of America became.

It was John Adams, our nation’s second president and a crucial Founder, who said in a letter, “We ought to consider, what is the end of government, before we determine which is the best form.” [1] And the Founders did precisely that. They thought about what they wanted America to become — a land of freedom and opportunity for its citizens — and carefully crafted a constitution to accomplish that goal. This is proof positive that our Founders were very different from most of history’s politically powerful figures.

Our Founders understood the fundamental importance of limiting the power of government and leaving the people free to govern the details of their own lives. As James Madison said in the Federalist Papers, Number 51,

If Men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and the next place, oblige it to control itself.”

Throughout history, governments had whatever powers they could get away with exercising — including genocide and murder of the masses. But our Founders designed a government that would be the foundation for a civil society of order and peace, but anywhere beyond that, government was forced to limit itself and its actions.

This has made all the difference and launched America to greatness. This approach made Americans the freest, most prosperous people in the world. People clamor to come to America from all over the globe because they see it as a shining city on a hill and as a land of opportunity. When the power of the government is constitutionally limited, the freedoms and opportunities of the people are maximized and the people thrive rather than merely survive.

Our Founders got it right — they didn’t build a government to benefit themselves or make government all-powerful. They carefully crafted a constitution that made Americans free, protected their rights, and made opportunity a key feature of the nation. That makes our Founders unique in history and we owe them a debt of gratitude.

George Landrith is the President of Frontiers of Freedom. Frontiers of Freedom, founded in 1995 by U.S. Senator Malcolm Wallop, is an educational foundation whose mission is to promote the principles of individual freedom, peace through strength, limited government, free enterprise, free markets, and traditional American values as found in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.

[1] John Adams, Thoughts on Government, in a letter in reply to William Hooper 1742-1790, North Carolina Continental Congress Delegate and John Penn 1740-1788, North Carolina Continental Congress Delegate, April 1776.

Further reading:

Papers of John Adams, volume 4, III Thoughts on Government, Massachusetts Historical Society

The Works of John Adams, vol. 4. Part of The Works of John Adams, 10 vols. A 10 volume collection of Adams’ most important writings, letters, and state papers, edited by his grandson. Vol. 4 contains Novanglus, Thoughts on Government, and Defence of the Constitution.

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Guest Essayist: Adam Carrington

Essay Read by Constituting America, Founder Actress Janine Turner



What are principles? We speak of them often in politics, history, philosophy, and other fields of study. We praise those who have them, or at least those with which we agree, and criticize those who lack them altogether.

Simply put, principles articulate a standard. This standard carries a certain authority, providing a measure by which to judge thoughts, words, and deeds.

We need principles to answer questions regarding the thoughts, words, and actions of ourselves and our fellow human beings. We want to know whether they are true or false, just or unjust, advantageous or not. Principles help us to know better what is and what should be.

First principles, then, answer not just any questions. They are first in two ways. One, they come first chronologically. We must address them before we can move on to other subjects dependent upon them. Second, first principles deal with the most important matters. In politics, they address the fundamental concerns of and set the essential standards for a political community.

The American Founding was an exercise in articulating, debating, and implementing political first principles. The Continental Congresses did so in debating with England and declaring independence. The Convention of 1787 in Philadelphia did so in crafting the Constitution to replace the Articles of Confederation. And state ratifying assemblies all engaged in debate and decision regarding this document, resulting in its ratification.

We should know the underlying questions and resulting principles animating these discussions, documents, and decisions. First, the Founders discussed who should rule: one king, a few aristocrats, or the people. This question itself rested on another, namely whether or not all humans were inherently equal and thus the place of consent in legitimate rule. It consequently touched on the institution of slavery, race, the role of women in society, and more.

Second, the Founders addressed the right ends or goals for rule. Do governments exist for the good of the ruler or of the governed? Should laws merely protect from harm or inculcate virtue? Where do rights ultimately come from, social convention, human statute, or natural law? These matters also required addressing linked issues such as the purposes of human life, the limits of education, and the relationship between religion and politics. It demanded a reckoning on the good and bad of human nature.

Third and finally, the Founders considered how to structure and run government. This point depended heavily on the answers to the first two sets of questions. Who ruled and for what purposes dictated much regarding the institutions and processes a just government involved. But those sets depended for their efficacy on this one. Government must be good at its job and limited only to that job. How the Constitution structured lawmaking and law enforcement mattered immensely to how well America’s governments would realize their intended goals and reflect the country’s ultimate rulers. Should we divide political power among state and national governments, thereby establishing a system of federalism? On what principles would that division be made and maintained? What about within particular governments? Should we have a separation of powers among independent institutions and, if so, based on what functions of political action? Moreover, what should the lawmaking process involve? How should we select judges? These and more the Founders debated and decided on the intellectual and practical road that led to our Constitution’s creation, ratification, and implementation.

In returning to this history and these principles, we must remember none of it started in 1787 or even 1776. The Founders partook of a discussion and a history stretching back throughout recorded human history, from Ancient Greece and Rome to Medieval Christendom and post- Reformation England. They knew this history and reacted to it in their own thoughts as well as deeds. In addition, they did not all perfectly agree with each other, whether about that history or about what should be done in their own time. Their debates helped refine the resulting principles, institutions, and practices that make up our history and continue to add definition to our own time.

Over the course of this series, we will explore the roots, debates, and reasoning of America’s first principles. Thus, we will enter the great discussion in which they made such a lasting and magnificent contribution. We will see something essential about our past and our present. In the process, we will learn better how to take these principles and apply them for our future. Please join us on that journey better to know our Constitution, our country, and ourselves.

Adam M. Carrington is an Associate Professor of Politics at Hillsdale College. There, he teaches on matters of Constitutional law, American political institutions, and separation of powers. His writing has appeared in such popular forums as The Wall Street Journal, The Hill, National Review, and Washington Examiner. His book on the jurisprudence of Justice Stephen Field was published in 2017 by Lexington. Carrington received his B.A. from Ashland University and his M.A. and Ph.D. from Baylor University. He lives in Hillsdale with his wife and their two daughters.

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Guest Essayist: Joerg Knipprath
Signing of the Constitution - Independence Hall in Philadelphia on September 17, 1787, painting by Howard Chandler Christy, on display in the east grand stairway, House wing, United States Capitol.

The United States Constitution is the product of a process which attempted to address perceived inadequacies of the Articles of Confederation in dealing with practical problems of governance. Its writers sought to provide practical solutions, shaped by their experiences. On that matter, it was irrelevant whether the Philadelphia Convention technically acted outside its charge from the states and the Confederation Congress and produced a revolutionary new charter, which argument James Madison disputed in The Federalist, No. 40, or whether the Constitution was a mere extension of the Articles and “consist[ed] much less in the addition of NEW POWERS to the union, than in the invigoration of its ORIGINAL POWERS,” as he averred in essay No. 45.

There are numerous devices in the Constitution to frustrate utopian schemes. Most of them are structural. The drafters understood that utopian schemes were more likely to succeed in smaller and more homogeneous communities. Madison in The Federalist, No. 10, identified the problem as one of faction, where members of a community joined by a common passion to gain power. Derived from the natural inequalities among human beings, factions are a foreseeable part of society. While democracies are most susceptible to control by an entrenched faction, small republics are not immune. The danger somewhat abates across a state but is least likely to occur in the nation and within its general government. As he explained. Vividly:

The influence of factious leaders may kindle a flame within their particular states, but will be unable to spread a general conflagration through the other states: a religious sect may degenerate into a political faction in a part of the confederacy; but the variety of sects dispersed over the entire face of it, must secure the national councils against any danger from that source: a rage for paper money, for an abolition of debts, for an equal division of property, or for any other improper or wicked project, will be less apt to pervade the whole body of the union than a particular member of it; in the same proportion as such a malady is more likely to taint a particular county or district, than an entire state.

Madison continued along the same vein in essay No. 51, “In the extended republic of the United States, and among the great variety of interests, parties, and sects, which it embraces, a coalition of the majority of the whole society could seldom take place upon any other principles, than those of justice and the general good …. And happily for the republican cause, the practicable sphere may be carried to a very great extent, by a judicious modification and mixture of the federal principle.” [Emphasis in the original.]

In Madison’s view, emergence of a permanent majority faction was more concerning, as minority factions would be controlled through majority voting. Fortunately, the diversity of religious, economic, ethnic, and customary influences creates shifting alliances among various factions, none of which would become an established majority at the national level. This creates a protective moat for society against dangers from radical policies which one faction might seek to impose on the country. In addition, the structural balance of formal constitutional powers between the national government and the states, further prevents any utopian faction in one state from readily spreading to another. This “federal” structure is enhanced by what Madison considered to be the adoption within the Constitution of the principle of subsidiarity, that is, that most political matters would be handled at the lowest level of political units, rather than by Congress.

In essay No. 51, Madison also explained another protection against a radical utopian faction gaining hold of the national government, the separation of powers. That separation consists of two parts in the Constitution, namely, provisions which guarantee to each of the branches a degree of immunity and independence from the other, as well as provisions which create a blending and overlapping of functions and require the different branches to collaborate to create policy. Examples of the first group of provisions are the control each branch of Congress has over its membership and the immunity of its members from prosecution for debates in Congress; the President’s privilege to withhold information from the other branches protected under, among other sources, the “executive power” clause; and the Supreme Court’s tenure during “good Behavior.” Examples of the second are the Congress’s power of the purse, the requirement that both chambers agree to the same legislation, the President’s qualified veto over legislation, and the Court’s power of judicial review. These protections help guard against rash policies and, as Alexander Hamilton phrased it in The Federalist, No. 78, “dangerous innovations in the government, and serious oppressions of the minor party in the community.” Moreover, many state constitutions incorporate similar principles of separate, yet overlapping, powers.

Leaving aside the unelected judiciary, the selection process for these positions supports the protection against radical utopian factions. Much of the operation of the political system under the Constitution, as distinct from its substantive powers, is ultimately founded in the federal system of states. Madison addressed the complex interrelationship between national and federal characteristics of the Constitution in The Federalist, No. 39. The people elect the House of Representatives, and representation is apportioned among the states on the basis of population, which are “national” characteristics. However, the states respectively determine the qualifications of the voters through their control over the electoral franchise for their own legislatures. Moreover, each state is guaranteed at least one seat, so even the population basis of the House is qualified by the existence of the states. The Senate is organized on the basis of the equality of the states in their corporate political capacities, a “federal” characteristic, and members originally were elected by the state legislatures. The president is selected by a body which is based on allocations of electoral votes among the states through a combination of population and state equality. Moreover, these electors are selected by the state legislators. As Madison explained in essay No. 39, the eventual election of the president was expected to be made by the House of Representatives, but on that occasion voting by state delegations.

The state-centric nature of these operative aspects of the constitutional structure helps diffuse power among various constituencies within a state and among different states. House members today are typically elected in single-member districts, whose constituents might be quite diverse from district to district. As originally envisioned, presidential candidates were selected by electors through a national, or at least regional, frame of reference. With the advent of modern political parties and the demographic changes over the past century, the president today is elected by a national constituency. Still, having to gain the endorsement of one of the two major political parties by having to appeal to different types of constituencies complicates the efforts of a radical faction’s candidate to gain sufficient power to orient the nation’s policies in a utopian direction. Political pragmatism and compromise is the inertia within the system.

One might add to these constitutional rules others of a more institutional origin. One such device which protects against utopian projects by a majority faction is the Senate’s “filibuster” rule. Another is the collection of arcane parliamentary procedures in the houses of Congress which can be used to derail or moderate legislation. Yet another is the committee structure and, at least in the past, the seniority system for chairmanships when powerful committee chairmen could frustrate the demands of the majority.

The problem with this presentation of a system of machine-like operation under clear constitutional rules that create a carefully-calibrated balance among various political actors, all while allowing government to function, yet protecting minority rights and guarding against dangerous utopian tendencies, is that it flatters irrationally. Seeing the political system only through the technical functioning of the rules is slanted and presents what one might call a “utopian” view. In fact, a hard look at the current system is needed to see how differently it operates.

At the level of national versus state governments, both consume a vastly greater percentage of Gross Domestic Product than a century ago, never mind two centuries ago. The national government’s share in particular has increased manifold. The national debt is at a record peacetime high in relation to GDP. The current use of debt by all levels of government would make the schemers in the state governments of the 1780s blanch. Congress today uses its legislative powers over interstate commerce, taxing, and spending to intrude into the most local and personal activities. Madison’s explanation in essay No. 39 of The Federalist that the national government’s jurisdiction extends to only a few enumerated ends, while the states have “a residual and inviolable sovereignty over all other objects” seems quaint and quizzical. Indeed, the very concept of residual state sovereignty has been neutered through Congress’s use of its taxing and spending powers, just as the Anti-federalists predicted and Hamilton attempted to refute in essays No. 32 and 33 of The Federalist. Prodigious government grants of money are a lifeline for much academic research, and those funds are readily applied to advance utopian projects by their recipients. As to legislation at the state and local levels, the ubiquity of laws far surpasses that of the earlier time, a product perhaps of a more complex society or the fact that legislating has become a full-time occupation for many politicians today.

As to the separation of powers, the contrast between the Constitution’s text and the operation of the system is if anything, starker. The proliferation of “alphabet agencies,” unencumbered by doctrines of separated functions, make rules, enforce them, and adjudicate violations of those rules in formally civil, but functionally criminal, proceedings. Those rules, adopted by generally unaccountable “independent” commissioners, administered by career functionaries, and virtually immune from judicial challenge, constitute the vast majority of the American corpus juris. There has been significant research into the political tactic of “regulatory capture,” whereby private entities, be they businesses, unions, or ideological “NGOs” (Non-Governmental Organizations) effectively take control of regulatory agencies. The danger with the last of these is that they often pursue utopian agendas behind the label “public interest,” rather than the more prosaic economic benefits to which the first two usually direct themselves.

There has been a concomitant expansion of executive power. The growth of the White House budget for various in-house offices, agencies, and directors which often parallel the domains of the formal constitutional departments, yet are independent of them, is one measure. As well, vast delegations of authority by Congress to the executive branch occurred as early as the Woodrow Wilson administration. The Supreme Court took some desultory steps against such delegations during the 1930s. Justice Felix Frankfurter warned about the expansion of executive power in his concurrence in Youngstown Sheet & Tube v. Sawyer, the famous Steel Seizure Case in 1952. Yet the Supreme Court has not struck down such a delegation in nearly a century. Some of this delegation, as well as broad ritualistic claims of inherent executive authority, arose in connection with war or other emergencies. Unsurprisingly, those powers continued during peace. A claim of discretionary power to act in emergencies inevitably produces more claims of emergencies. As shown by quite recent history, similar displays of broad executive power and uncontrolled administrative governance are part and parcel of state and local systems, as well.

As to constitutional barriers to utopianism provided by the electoral structure, or institutional barriers through the filibuster, one must wonder about their continued efficacy. Gerrymandering of districts has produced many “safe” partisan districts, where primary elections control the eventual outcome. Primary elections—or local party caucuses—attract the most ideologically committed participants. Such gerrymandering has been blamed for the election of candidates committed to ideologically pure, but practically harmful, utopian policies.

The mobility of American society and the advances in communications technology and entertainment have challenged Madison’s basic assumption about the diversity of interest groups rooted in different geographical areas. The electorate has become much more homogeneous and “national,” so that a nation-wide electoral majority might degenerate into an ideological faction similar to what Madison described was the danger in a local democracy. Candidates, too, are less dependent on the moderating influences of party organization. One need only to consider the emergence of billionaire-politicians and celebrity-politicians who can use their money or status to capture a party’s nomination and, subsequently, the office, without the support of the party’s established apparatus. Institutional restraints, such as the filibuster, have been weakened and are threatened with elimination, which would further undermine protections against a bare majority faction in Congress imposing utopian projects on the country.

Madison dismissed the dangers of a minority faction controlling Congress because of the “republican principle” of majority vote. But a minority faction driven by utopian fervor is much more likely to coalesce than a majority, and Madison’s faith in the vote is too blind to that danger. It has long been established that an ideologically committed organized minority can control an unorganized majority in politics or otherwise. The large economic or psychological benefits of a policy to the members of the minority outweigh the proportionally smaller costs to each member of the majority. With the increased and hidden power of unelected entities described earlier, the danger becomes more acute. One example should suffice: Before his inauguration, President-elect Donald Trump challenged leaked, unsubstantiated claims by American intelligence agencies that Russia had hacked the 2016 election. Senator Charles Schumer then warned President Trump, “You take on the intelligence community—they have six ways from Sunday at getting back at you.” Schumer was not alone in that prognosis. The specter of the hidden intelligence apparatus undermining the president in pursuit of an ideological objective has been raised many times over the past decades and is in direct conflict with the constitutional order.

In similar manner, the doctrine of judicial review has increasingly been used to advance constitutional novelties. The Constitution provides a formal amendment process, based on broad super-majoritarian approval that is, in Madison’s description, partly federal and partly national. It requires broad consensus in Congress and among the people or legislatures of the states. There has also developed an informal amendment process which retains elements of popular approval and consensus. For example, when Congress passes a law, the president signs it, and there is no successful constitutional challenge brought to the law in the courts, continued and open adherence to that law by the people over time makes that law’s political essence part of the constitutional fabric. A similar development occurs if a significant number of states pass laws respecting a particular matter of state control, if those laws do not conflict with a clear constitutional provision. A constitutional challenge to such well-established laws years later ordinarily should be rejected, because, as Hamilton stated, the purpose of judicial review is to prevent sudden popular passions from passing laws which violate established constitutional rules and threaten individual rights.

In that sense, judicial review is “conservative.” Judicial review is not intended to have five unelected judges decree a novel constitutional order by overturning long-established laws. That is the function of lawmakers in legislatures or constitutional conventions. Yet, the Supreme Court at times has taken on that function by discovering fanciful, previously unheard-of constitutional meaning in ambiguous clauses. These discoveries typically reflect the views of a narrow socio-political elite more than those of the citizenry at large. An ideologically committed minority faction is thus able to impose its utopian vision on the majority.

One can easily come up with more examples of current functional weaknesses and dysfunctions in the constitutional system described by the writers of The Federalist. The Anti-federalists broadly predicted many of the current developments, although it is to be doubted that their proposals, to the extent they had any, would have worked better to preserve the republican nature of the original order. Nor is it to be understood that all changes are necessarily bad. One might well agree with the social benefit of some of the constitutional innovations from the Supreme Court, yet be concerned about the way in which those changes came about. One might accept that some of the actions of the unelected agencies have been for the public good, yet worry about the threat to republican self-government posed by the bureaucratic state of self-declared “experts.” One might favor certain policies enacted into law by Congress, yet question the desirability of a system which increasingly micromanages life from thousands of miles away.

There are many ominous signs which suggest that we have lost our republican form of government as envisioned by the Framers. What we have left, it often appears, are certain trappings and rituals, much as happened with the Roman senate and other republican institutions during the Roman Empire and beyond. Perhaps the classic expositors of republics were right, that such a form of government cannot exist over a large area with many diverse groups of people. Perhaps Madison’s faith in the representative system was shaped by an implicit acceptance of the Aristotelian assumption that self-government was possible only in a community small enough that one could speak of “friendship.” There was much debate among classic writers about the size limits of community. One person did not make a polis. With 100,000, one no longer had a polis. At the time of the Philadelphia Convention, the largest state, Virginia, had a population over 800,000, including slaves. The next largest, Pennsylvania, had under 500,000. The debate over proper-sized districts for the House of Representatives, the most “republican” part of the government, settled the number at 30,000 residents per representative. The Anti-federalists challenged this ratio as too high and unrepublican by pointing out that in Pennsylvania’s state legislature, the ratio was one representative for each four to five thousand residents. Madison replied in essay No. 55 that the House of Representatives would only deal with national matters which do not require particular knowledge of local affairs or connection to specific local sentiments. Today, each congressional district approaches the then-population of Virginia, and the Congress regularly passes laws which have profound local effects. Whether or not Aristotle was correct about the precise limits of “community,” surely it beggars belief to say that today’s congressional districts are republican in anything but name.

Long tenures in office were another danger, according to republicans. The Articles of Confederation limited the number of terms a member of Congress could serve. The Constitution does not. Hence it is common for representatives to spend decades in office, which results in part from the difficulty of ousting incumbents in large districts gerrymandered to protect them. It is problematic to claim that such effective life tenures are “republican.”

Another important role in republican systems is played by various non-governmental social associations, such as the family, religious institutions, unions, and charitable groups. The 18th-century Anglo-Irish philosopher and politician Edmund Burke centered his theory of constitutional stability on the vitality of such institutions, which represent tradition and continuity and thereby guard against radicalism and turmoil. Burke was quite familiar to Americans for his vindications of their political claims before and during the Revolutionary War. He contrasted the stability of the English constitutional system with the situation in France. He was horrified by the violence of the French Revolution which grew from its utopian radicalism. It is inevitably the object of totalitarian governments to destroy or subjugate such intermediary institutions which threaten the power of the state over the people.

One must consider, then, some uncomfortable topics. To what extent has the American family structure been undermined by divorce, single parenthood, and various incentives created through the welfare state? How significant are religious institutions in the life of Americans today compared with preceding generations? With the exception of public employee unions, how significant are labor unions today? The same question must be asked about the vitality of local business associations and related service clubs, which played such significant roles in communities in the past.

The great Northwest Ordinance of 1787 declared, “Religion, morality, and knowledge being necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind, schools, and the means of education shall forever be encouraged.” This goal reflects the inculcation of private virtue which the different groups of American republicans agreed were a necessary basis for the preservation of republican government, even if some argued that it was not a sufficient basis. Are educational institutions fulfilling their task of teaching the heritage, morals, and substantive knowledge upon which the founding generation staked the success of their republic, or has the radicals’ long march through those institutions corrupted that mission?

Is the current dynamic of identity politics leading us to a dangerous tribalism which tears the social bonds necessary for a stable and peaceful community? If factions are the bane of republican systems, will the stress of this anarchic impetus ultimately lead to a collapse into the tyranny which the Anti-federalists feared?

If freedom of the press is needed for “republican form of government,” are the media providing useful information to the public or at least performing their self-appointed task of bravely and indiscriminately “speaking truth to power”? Or have they become so ideologically blinded to convince themselves of the righteousness of their quest to indoctrinate the public, that they have vindicated Thomas Jefferson’s indictment of the press in his 1807 letter to John Norvell, “Nothing can now be believed which is seen in a newspaper. Truth itself becomes suspicious by being put into that polluted vehicle….The man who never looks into a newspaper is better informed than he who reads them, inasmuch as he who knows nothing is nearer to truth than he whose mind is filled with falsehoods and errors.”

Many of these dysfunctions were spawned by utopian schemers who without thought or hesitation cast aside rules and institutions forged in human experience. They failed to heed G.K. Chesterton’s warning in his parable of the fence built across a road not to tear it down until one clearly understands why it was erected in the first place.

As explored over these 90 sessions, the Constitution’s drafters constructed a framework of republican government and the means to preserve it. The structural components of the system, functioning as intended, assist that task. However, the Framers understood their own fallibility and the fragility of their creation. The Constitution is just a parchment. To give it life requires the attention of a civically militant citizenry committed to the preservation and functioning of its parts. That is the politics of the true “living constitution.” And, as has been said, politics is downstream from culture. The French philosopher Joseph de Maistre pungently observed, “Every nation gets the government it deserves.” Although his comment was about Russia, it would have particular relevance for a republic. Likewise, in his famous aphorism, Benjamin Franklin did not just say to Mrs. Elizabeth Powel that the convention had produced a republic. He added, wittily but ominously, “if you can keep it.” The question is whether the American people continue to be up to the challenge.

Joerg W. Knipprath is an expert on constitutional law, and member of the Southwestern Law School faculty. Professor Knipprath has been interviewed by print and broadcast media on a number of related topics ranging from recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions to presidential succession. He has written opinion pieces and articles on business and securities law as well as constitutional issues, and has focused his more recent research on the effect of judicial review on the evolution of constitutional law. He has also spoken on business law and contemporary constitutional issues before professional and community forums, and serves as a Constituting America Fellow.


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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett

History furnishes plenty of examples, especially in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, of revolutions that attempted to create Utopian societies. From the French Revolution, which attempted to completely recreate society in every way in the name of equality, to the Russian Revolution, which attempted to recreate the human mind by erasing all concepts of the “private” and the “individual,” these Utopian experiments all have one thing in common: they either ignore or reject the idea of unchanging human nature, or claim that human nature is malleable or perfectible and can be reinvented. The American Founders would argue that this is why they have all failed, or will fail, in the end.

To be sure, the Founders understood from their own experiences and actions that change – and sometimes revolution – is necessary to bring about political, social, moral, and economic progress to make life better and more just for human beings. But the Founders had the prescience to see the danger of being too radical and abandoning all tradition and experience for the sake of some untested visionary idea of a perfect society. James Madison, in The Federalist No. 14, urged his fellow Americans to be open to the new – one might say “experimental” – aspects of the proposed United States Constitution. “Hearken not to the voice,” Madison wrote, “which petulantly tells you that the form of government recommended for your adoption is a novelty in the political world; that it has never yet had a place in the theories of the wildest projectors; that it rashly attempts what it is impossible to accomplish.” On the other hand, Madison acknowledged that there are some wholly new aspects of the proposed form of government. “But why,” he continued, “is the experiment of an extended republic to be rejected, merely because it may comprise what is new? Is it not the glory of the people of America, that, whilst they have paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their own good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the lessons of their own experience?” To embolden his fellow citizens to attempt this experiment, Madison appealed to the example of the American Revolution itself:

Had no important step been taken by the leaders of the Revolution for which a precedent could not be discovered, no government established of which an exact model did not present itself, the people of the United States might, at this moment have been numbered among the melancholy victims of misguided councils, must at best have been laboring under the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the liberties of the rest of mankind. Happily for America, happily, we trust, for the whole human race, they pursued a new and more noble course.

Alexander Hamilton, in The Federalist No 31, also wrote on the need to combine a degree of boldness with prudence in revolutions. “Caution and investigation are a necessary armor against error and imposition,” Hamilton wrote.

But this untractableness may be carried too far, and may degenerate into obstinacy, perverseness, or disingenuity. … The moment we launch into conjectures about the usurpations of the federal government, we get into an unfathomable abyss, and fairly put ourselves out of the reach of all reasoning. Imagination may range at pleasure till it gets bewildered amidst the labyrinths of an enchanted castle, and knows not on which side to turn to extricate itself from the perplexities into which it has so rashly adventured.

Though the Founders understood the need for “experimentation” in order to make society better, they also understood that such experiments must be undertaken with a kind of prudence and judicious awareness of the realities and limitations imposed by human nature. In The Federalist No. 10, James Madison addressed those who believe that faction can be eliminated entirely from society, and reminds them that the causes of faction are rooted in human nature. To achieve a truly faction-free society, one must either eliminate or change human nature, which, in either case, would require a tyrannical government to accomplish. Madison reminded us again in The Federalist No. 51 that human nature should temper our expectations for establishing successful Utopian regimes. “But what is government itself,” Madison asked,” but the greatest of all reflections on human nature? If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary.”

In The Federalist No. 37, Madison reflected on how the Constitutional Convention in 1787 combined political innovation tempered with prudence and a due regard for experience to create the proposed Constitution. The mode in which the Constitution was written – by a body of 55 delegates from twelve states over the course of three and a half months – was itself an experiment in constitution making. Madison observed, “The novelty of the undertaking immediately strikes us. … The most that the convention could do in such a situation, was to avoid the errors suggested by the past experience of other countries, as well as of our own; and to provide a convenient mode of rectifying their own errors, as future experiences may unfold them.” Madison conceded that the proposed Constitution was not perfect; nor would it establish a perfect form of government. But Madison argued against letting the perfect be the enemy of the good, and acknowledged that the imperfections arose, in part, from the realities of human nature and of imperfect human beings. As Madison wrote:

Would it be wonderful if, under the pressure of all these difficulties, the convention should have been forced into some deviations from that artificial structure and regular symmetry which an abstract view of the subject might lead an ingenious theorist to bestow on a Constitution planned in his closet or in his imagination? The real wonder is that so many difficulties should have been surmounted, and surmounted with a unanimity almost as unprecedented as it must have been unexpected. It is impossible for any man of candor to reflect on this circumstance without partaking of the astonishment. It is impossible for the man of pious reflection not to perceive in it a finger of that Almighty hand which has been so frequently and signally extended to our relief in the critical stages of the revolution.

Hamilton echoed this sentiment as well in The Federalist No 85. Hamilton addressed those who would reject the proposed Constitution because it was imperfect. “‘Why,’ say they, ‘should we adopt an imperfect thing? Why not amend it and make it perfect before it is irrevocably established?’” Hamilton’s response invoked, again, the realities of human nature:

I never expect to see a perfect work from imperfect man. The result of the deliberations of all collective bodies must necessarily be a compound, as well of the errors and prejudices, as of the good sense and wisdom, of the individuals of whom they are composed. The compacts which are to embrace thirteen distinct States in a common bond of amity and union, must as necessarily be a compromise of as many dissimilar interests and inclinations. How can perfection spring from such materials?

In summary, to paraphrase Hamilton from The Federalist No. 6, though it is reasonable for us to aim at progress through prudent change and experimentation, one must be far gone in Utopian speculations to believe that human beings can ever achieve a completely perfect society. History has vindicated the Founders’ advice on this through many examples of Utopian experiments that have resulted in tyranny, oppression, and death for many people.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.

Guest Essayist: Joerg Knipprath

Utopianism appears to be inbred in the human brain—the desire for the perfect life, however a person might define that. Parents tell children to “follow their dreams.” Adults, too, often follow suit. Examples abound, from the ‘49ers of the California Gold Rush, to the “drop-out” hippie communes of the 1960s, to current athletes and entertainers. From print publications to electronic media, the protagonists of many stories—fictional or true—are those who “followed the beat of their own drum.”

This human trait is admirable and is something which marks us as more intellectually complex than brute animals. Aristotelian understanding of “happiness”—eudaimonia—is that quest for a fulfilled and flourishing life, to be “truly human.” One might never fully attain that state, or, Aristotle advises, one might not fully comprehend it until one is close to death. Even the failure of such a quest, though, can teach valuable lessons. A person might end the journey to become a singer, once she realizes that the agitation among the neighborhood’s cats stem from the sounds she emits. Instead, perhaps a new dream to become a talent agent forms to motivate her. Looked at another way, even if her utopian vision fails completely, it likely affects only her and perhaps a few around her.

By contrast, utopianism at the level of societies is much more dangerous to human flourishing. At that scale, failure, such as the collapse of a polity, affects multitudes in a profoundly existential manner. The ship of state requires a calm hand at the wheel. Phronesis, the classical virtue of practical wisdom, must control, not utopian passion. The statesman must have the clear ability to make the moral and practical choices which conduce best to the well-being of the community.

Still, there lurks the unsatisfied yearning to achieve, or to return to, the perfect society. It is the psychological desire to return to a Garden of Eden and a state of perfect innocence. From a Neo-Platonic perspective, which influenced the writings of St. Augustine and other early Christians, this yearning might reflect the human soul’s longing to attain union with the ultimate Good, or God.

Writers since ancient times have dabbled in philosophic creation projects of ideal societies. Plato’s 4th-century B.C. Politeia (The Republic), his prescription for a government run by a “guardian class” of philosopher-kings, is an early example. Thomas More’s 1516 book Utopia about an ideal society dwelling on an idyllic island, is another. More recently, Karl Marx’s writings about the process of historical transition which ultimately would end class strife through the establishment of a classless, communist society, dazzled many acolytes. Common to these three particular works, it should be noted, was opposition, in some manner or another, to private property. Another commonality was a degree of hostility to the traditional nuclear family structure.

At least the first two of these works are not necessarily to be taken at face value. The revolutionary changes which would be necessary to establish Plato’s ideal republic conflict with fundamental philosophic views he expressed in other writings. Moreover, he was quite clear about the inevitability that the project would fail due to the passions which are part of human nature. His work is a warning at least as much as it is a blueprint.

More’s work is satirical through and through, from the book’s title (a play on two similar sounding Greek words meaning no place—Utopia—and perfect place—Eutopia), to the names of various places and persons within the work, to the customs of his island’s denizens. It was satire of English society, but also a warning about societies unmoored from Christian ethics.

Along with utopian philosophies have come utopian projects. The Plymouth Rock Colony of the Pilgrim Fathers in 1620 was organized initially along communist principles of land cultivation. The disastrous economic consequences from that brief, two-year experiment threatened the very existence of the colony. Fortunately, the misstep was soon corrected. A similar fate awaited Robert Owen’s utopian “socialist” colony New Harmony, Indiana, which turned from a prosperous religious settlement when sold to Owen in 1825 to an economic shambles by 1828. The religious predecessor had also held property in common, but within a tightly-knit religious community. Owen’s associates lacked any strong bonds of community. As one contemporary commentator noted, “There are only two ways of governing such an institution as a Community; it must be done either by law or by grace. Owen got a company together and abolished law, but did not establish grace; and so, necessarily, failed.” He might have added one additional approach, the use of relentless force.

Often, these utopian communities are driven by a fervent vision of a new type of society founded on religious principles. They seek to create an earthly community close to God. Besides the Pilgrims, the Shakers and other charismatic groups come to mind. Others, like the Owenite socialists are motivated by more secular ideologies. Sometimes, an odd brew of messianic zeal and political ideology is blended, as in the “apostolic socialism” of Jim Jones’s People’s Temple in Guyana. These groups eventually adapt their dogma to the complexities of human nature and the real-world challenges of social living, as the Pilgrims and the Latter Day Saints did. Or, they disintegrate, as was the fate of the Owenites and the Shakers. Tragically, some come to a violent end under the thrall of a toxic “prophet,” as did the unfortunates of the People’s Temple.

Another factor which contributes to the instability of utopian projects is the scale of the venture. The communities previously mentioned were comparatively small. The Aristotelian ranking of associations from the family to the clan to the polis encompasses ever greater numbers. As those numbers increase and the members’ relationships to each other become more distant, the bonds become looser. Human nature is, essentially, selfish. Self-interest is not necessarily bad. Killing an attacker to save one’s own life has long been recognized as the most fundamental of natural rights. However, another human characteristic, more developed than in lesser species, is altruism.

Altruism, and one’s willingness to incur burdens for the benefit of another, is most pronounced in regards to those whom we “know.” The bonds of love are strongest towards immediate family members. They are also present, but less intensely, towards the extended family. Beyond that lie the still significant bonds of friendship about which Plato and Aristotle mused at length. Aristotle considered the highest form of friendship that which is maintained not for what one might get out of it, but, instead, what is done for the benefit of the other. He also considered friendship as the key measure of proper self-government in the polis. At some point, however, the number of residents within the community might grow too big for the mutual interactions required to maintain friendship. As that number grows, the psychological tension between self-interest and true altruism inevitably favors the former.

For example, a “communist” approach to work and reward can succeed within a family, perhaps even an extended one of longstanding relationships. Trouble arises when the relationships are not familial. To eliminate this inequality of sentiment, utopian societies seek to undermine or abolish the family and other voluntary affinity groups, which itself is doomed to fail and simply accelerates the group’s collapse. A large utopian society, whose members are not bound together by religion or by rules derived from long-established customs which reflect the traditional ordering within stable communities, requires increasingly brutal force to maintain commitment to the utopian project. Pol Pot’s devilish regime in Cambodia nearly half a century ago is a notorious example of this, as memorialized in the chilling movie The Killing Fields.

No matter how intellectually promising and rationally organized the effort is, human nature and passions will derail the utopian project. Plato laid the problem at the feet of eros—passionate love and desire—which upends the controlled marriage and mating program his ultra-rational utopia required. Among the rulers, nepotism and greed manifest themselves. It is hardly shocking that Fidel Castro acquired a wealth of nearly $1 billion at the time, all the while exhorting the unfortunate subjects in his impoverished nation to sacrifice for la Revolución. The inevitable failings of the system set off a hunt for scapegoats, those wreckers who do not show the requisite zeal and who harbor counterrevolutionary or other heretical views.

Within societies which are not openly pursuing some political or religious utopia, there may nevertheless be strong currents of utopianism. In our time and place, the extreme emphasis on risk avoidance is a utopian quest. It has resulted in a bloated legal and administrative apparatus as smaller and more remote and dubious risks are targeted. Economic and social costs are ignored as a health and safety security state takes shape. Those who dissent from the secular millenarian orthodoxy are liable to be marginalized or cast aside like religious heretics. Individual rights of association, religion, providing for oneself and one’s family, and bodily autonomy are subject to the guesses and whims of unelected credentialed “experts.” Yet these measures, when pursued robotically for some ideal beyond what practical wisdom would advise, fail or produce only marginal benefits, often at great cost. Even if they are abandoned, the damage has occurred.

In a related manner, there has been a decades-long quixotic quest to create emotional placidity. While not socially harmful if done on an individual, voluntary basis, compelled “treatments” have been a favorite of ideologues to deal with dissenters. The Soviet Union was infamous for its psychological analyses steeped in Marxist utopianism and its use of political dissent as “red flags” of psychological “deviance.” But the problem festers closer to home, as well. From state-applied electric shock therapy and lobotomies in the past, to the modern approach of psychotropic drugs, a therapeutic totalitarianism has been spreading. Those who dissent, especially parents who balk at such drug use or at school “safe zone” counseling done behind their backs, are liable to find themselves ridiculed or worse.

The delegates to the Philadelphia Convention were educated in classic writings and western history. They were not naïfs about human nature or politics. They understood lessons from the failures of regimes and the dangers of utopian projects, as did their opponents in the debate over ratification. Moreover, their own experience from the Revolutionary War, the Articles of Confederation, and service in their state governments had inured them to utopian speculations. Illustrative of the skepticism is a letter Alexander Hamilton wrote even as the struggle for independence still hung in the balance in 1781, “there have been many false steps, many chimerical projects and utopian speculations.” He noted that the most experienced politicians were Loyalists. He was registering his complaint about the lack of political sophistication among his co-revolutionaries in the conduct of the war, the adoption of the Articles, and the drafting of state constitutions.

That is not to say that the supporters and opponents of the United States Constitution lacked political and philosophic bearings. Most had a sense of what they wished to achieve, set within a coherent broader philosophic framework. The historian Forrest McDonald, in his far-reaching and detailed analysis of the framing of the Constitution, classifies the delegates into two groups, “court-party nationalists” and “country-party republicans,” analogous to the British Tory and Whig parties, respectively. Among the best-known such nationalists were Washington, Hamilton, Benjamin Franklin, James Wilson, Gouverneur Morris, and Robert Morris. Among the notable republicans were Elbridge Gerry, George Mason, Luther Martin, and Edmund Randolph. Others were more difficult to label. McDonald places James Madison in between the two groups and somewhat harshly judges the latter “an ideologue in search of an ideology.” He claims that by temperament Madison thought matters through to the detail and preferred “the untried but theoretically appealing, as opposed to the imperfections of reality.” Yet, he also concedes Madison’s willingness to abandon politically untenable positions as needed.

A third group, whom McDonald considers arch-republican ideologues, did not attend for varied reasons. They included Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Sam Adams, Richard Henry Lee, and Patrick Henry. Some of these outsiders and other opponents of the Constitution presented more consistently “principled” arguments, but it is always easier to attack someone’s work than to provide a comprehensive and workable alternative.

None of the groups at the convention had a majority. Moreover, they were not ideological in the modern sense of positing a single abstract moving cause for all human action in the private and public realms. The closest might be the idea that humans act from self-interest. But there was nothing like Marxist economic determinism or Freudian psychoanalysis or current Marxism-derived Critical Race Theory. The various broader theories of government delegates favored still resulted in differences which must have seemed intractable, at times. Some delegates left out of frustration that their ideas about the proper constitutional order were not sufficiently realized.

But most held on and difficult compromises were eventually reached. Even the matter which deadlocked the convention for weeks and threatened more than once to tear it apart, namely the structure of Congress and the mode of representation, ultimately was resolved mostly in favor of the small states through Roger Sherman’s Connecticut Compromise. So was the controversy over Congress’s powers. The small-state proposal of an enumeration of specific powers supplemented by an enabling clause was adopted over a more national position favored by Madison that Congress would have power to address all issues which affected the nation where individual states would be “incompetent to act.” The slavery question was generally avoided. The concept was simply euphemized, rather than expressed. Specific issues, such as the fugitive slave clause and the three/fifths clause to apportion representatives and direct taxes were borrowed from the Northwest Ordinance of 1787 and a failed amendment to the Articles of Confederation. Whatever might have been the hearts’ desires of various philosophically committed members, compromise prevailed. The result was a system which was partly federal and partly national, as Madison laid out the particulars in Number 39 of The Federalist.

As remarked in previous essays, the authors of The Federalist emphasized the influence of experience, not idealism, on the convention’s deliberations, and the process of compromise, not purity, which resulted in a plan suited to the practical demands of governing. Aside from Hamilton’s noted aphorism in Number 6 of The Federalist, “Let experience, the least fallible guide of human opinions, be appealed to for an answer to these inquiries,” the authors repeatedly drew on experience under the Articles of Confederation, the state constitutions, and earlier European and ancient systems. That was, of course, also what the convention had done. In Number 38, Madison mocked the variety and inconsistency of objections and their often vague and general nature. While his sarcasm disparages the constructive and systematic efforts of opponents such as the “Brutus” essays by New York’s Robert Yates, Madison’s specific examples illustrate the spirit of pragmatism at the convention. He declared “It is not necessary that the [Constitution] should be perfect: it is sufficient that the [Articles are] more imperfect.” In Number 41, he acknowledged, “…that the choice must always be made, if not of the lesser evil, at least the GREATER, not the PERFECT good; ….” [Emphasis in the original.]

Perhaps the best summation of the pragmatism which steered the delegates as they proceeded with their work was voiced by Benjamin Franklin. He rose on the day of the final vote and implored his colleagues, “Thus I consent, Sir, to this Constitution. Because I expect no better, and because I am not sure, that it is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors, I sacrifice to the public good….I can not help expressing a wish that every member of the Convention who may still have objections to it, would with me, on this occasion doubt a little of his own infallibility, and to make manifest our unanimity, put his name to this instrument.”

Joerg W. Knipprath is an expert on constitutional law, and member of the Southwestern Law School faculty. Professor Knipprath has been interviewed by print and broadcast media on a number of related topics ranging from recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions to presidential succession. He has written opinion pieces and articles on business and securities law as well as constitutional issues, and has focused his more recent research on the effect of judicial review on the evolution of constitutional law. He has also spoken on business law and contemporary constitutional issues before professional and community forums, and serves as a Constituting America Fellow.


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Guest Essayist: James C. Clinger

The year 1776 was notable not only for the Declaration of Independence, but also for the publication of a notable work of scholarship that represented a dramatic change in not only the economic systems of the world but also the shape of the governmental arrangements of the United States, Britain, and other nations. An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, by a Scottish academic, Adam Smith, was published at about the same time that the Continental Congress, thousands of miles away, considered a resolution to declare independence from Great Britain.[i]

Smith’s work is today largely considered an economic monograph extolling the virtues of capitalism, but in its own day its contribution was somewhat different. The word “capitalism” was not in wide use at that time. “Economics” was not considered an identifiable academic discipline or focus of study. Smith’s university teaching career was largely concerned with what was then called “natural philosophy.” In the Wealth of Nations, Smith suggested the free exchange of goods and services could promote not only material wealth, but also improve human well-being in a more general sense.

In making these arguments, Smith took the opportunity to attack human contrivances that thwarted free exchange. Slavery and colonialism were also criticized, and an extensive critique of the economic thinking and practices known as mercantilism became a central focus of the book.   Mercantilism was a fundamental basis for colonial rule, and the opposition to mercantilist practices was part of the justification for the American Revolution. Similarly, the breakdown of mercantilism as a defensible basis for imperial control of territory led to British willingness to permit its colonies to gain their independence.

Mercantilism was an economic system that contended that national wealth was promoted by government interventions to encourage trade and investment in certain industries and enterprises. In particular, mercantilist advocates believed that the government should conserve national reserves of gold (and sometimes silver), which were used in international trade for goods and resources that could not be found within a nation. If a country controlled colonies, purchases could be made without using gold, thus sparing reserves that could be used for essential international transactions. The colonial power would dictate the permissible terms of trade in which its colonies could participate, usually compelling the colonies to trade only with the mother country or with other colonies within the same empire. Transactions with other countries would be forbidden or subject to very high tariffs.

Before the revolution, the American colonials chafed at the terms of trade dictated by the British. In 1774, the British imposed the Intolerable Acts as a punitive measure in response to the Boston Tea Party and other protests. The protests in the American colonies were largely demonstrations against some of the taxes (e.g., the Stamp Act) and the exclusive monopolies over many import enterprises given to the East India Company. That same year, the First Continental Congress enacted the Articles of Association as a trade boycott against the British. Many American colonial enterprises, including that owned by John Hancock, circumvented British trade restrictions by doing business with Dutch firms and other colonies. In the Declaration of Independence, two of the complaints prominently noted were the claims that the British were “cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world” and “imposing Taxes on us without our Consent.”[ii] These complaints were common among colonial people throughout the world, not only within the British Empire but within the colonies of all the imperial powers.

After the revolution, the Founders made strategic choices that affected the international trade practices that the new nation would follow.   Tariffs and trade restrictions were still permissible, but procedural constraints limited their use. Within the United States Constitution, the Founders established a particular process by which taxes, including tariffs, would be enacted. Only Congress could approve taxes, and all money bills would originate in the House of Representatives, the only offices at that time filled through popular election.[iii] Foreign entanglements presumably could be minimized by the requirement that all treaties must be approved by a two-thirds vote of the present members of the Senate.[iv] The Senate was filled with representatives of the states originally chosen by the legislatures of the states. The requirement that a two-thirds vote of the members of the Senate consent to a treaty guaranteed that any treaty that took effect would have broad support among the various states. A measure that had the support of a simple majority of the general population would not be sufficient. A super-majority of the members of the representatives of states in the Senate was required. It is important to note that the equal representation of states in the Senate is one aspect of the Constitution that was regarded so essential that it could never be changed through constitutional amendment.[v]

British colonialism continued long after the American Revolution, but its economic underpinnings gradually eroded over time. Shortly after the end of the Napoleonic wars, Britain imposed a high tariff on imported agricultural products. This was reversed in 1846 with the repeal of the so-called “Corn Laws,” beginning a general trend toward freer international trade and away from protectionism.[vi] There was a short-term return to protectionist practices in the 1930s after the United States enacted the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act, but Britain returned to a freer trade position after World War II.[vii]

Suffrage within Britain expanded throughout the nineteenth century, and the British found it harder philosophically to defend its dictating of the terms of trade with its colonies without granting them a voice in their own affairs. These denials of both economic and political freedoms seemed particularly unfair when the colonized peoples differed racially, ethnically, religiously, and culturally from the British. In fairness, it should be said that the British, more so than many imperial powers, did permit colonial peoples to elect the members of their representative assemblies and to retain the use of their native languages in schools and government offices.[viii] In general, the British colonies fared better economically than the colonies of many other European nations.[ix]

In terms of geographic territory, the British Empire reached its peak around 1920, but it had already loosened its control over many of its colonies and some, such as the United States, had already gained their independence. After World War II, many British colonies and protectorates separated from British control, even though most remained within the British Commonwealth. The Bretton Woods Accord established the American dollar as the primary currency to be used in international exchange. The British faced pressure from both its allies and from international organizations, such as the United Nations, to decolonize. New international economic institutions, such as the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade and its successor organization, the World Trade Organization, encouraged trade liberalization. A few pieces of territory remain British colonies in far-flung parts of the globe, but the old empire has been dismantled as the economic and political basis for its existence has disappeared.

James C. Clinger is a professor in the Department of Political Science and Sociology at Murray State University. Dr. Clinger teaches courses in state and local government, Kentucky politics, intergovernmental relations, regulatory policy, and public administration. Dr. Clinger is also a member of the Murray-Calloway County Transit Authority Board and a past president of the Kentucky Political Science Association. He currently resides in Hazel, Kentucky.

[i] Smith, Adam, and Edwin Cannan. The Wealth of Nations. New York, N.Y.: Bantam Classic, 2003.

[ii] Declaration of Independence

[iii] United States Constitution, Article I, Section 7

[iv] United States Constitution, Article 2, Section 2

[v] United States Constitution, Article V

[vi] O’Rourke, Kevin H. 2000.  “British Trade Policy in the 19th Century: A Review Article.”  European journal of Political Economy 16:: 829-842.

[vii] de Bromhead, Alan, Alan Fernihough, Markus Lampe, and Kevin Hjortshøj O’Rourke. 2019. “When Britain Turned Inward: The Impact of Interwar British Protection.” American Economic Review 109 (2): 325–52.

[viii] Lange, Matthew, Tay Jeong, and Charlotte Gaudreau. 2022. “A Tale of Two Empires: Models of Political Community in British and French Colonies.” Nations & Nationalism 28 (3): 972–89.

[ix] Lange, Matthew, James Mahoney, and Matthias vom Hau. 2006. “Colonialism and Development: A Comparative Analysis of Spanish and British Colonies.” American Journal of Sociology 111 (5): 1412–62.


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Guest Essayist: Jay McConville

“I can scarcely contemplate a greater calamity that could befall this country, than to be loaded with a debt exceeding their ability ever to discharge.” (Anti-federalist Papers, Brutus No. VIII, 1789)[1]

Many Americans have a warm spot in their hearts for the British, by which they usually mean the quaint English people in the television shows they watch. For example, BritBox, the subscription service that features United Kingdom (UK) television shows, reported over 1 million U.S. subscribers by the first quarter of 2022, after only five years of operation.[2] Blessed with a rich history, a culture that often exudes sophistication, and a command of the language that (unfortunately) escapes most Americans, the UK is regarded highly by most Americans as our friend, our partner, and our kindred spirit in culture and world affairs. We share a language and history, of course, as the original U.S. states were British colonies. That early relationship was fraught with conflict, so our positive current alliance is better traced to our partnership fighting tyranny in World War I, II, and the Cold War. Many Americans also trace their lineage to the UK, or one of its former colonies or territories, so this tiny island nation is a favorite vacation spot for Americans. One British Airways survey found that “[t]hree in ten Americans said the UK is their favourite country and one in seven said they would move to Britain if they had the chance.”[3]

Yet the little nation that Americans love so much was once the most powerful, fierce, dominating, and wealthy empire on the earth. In fact, “by the end of the 19th century, the British Empire comprised nearly one-quarter of the world’s land surface and more than one-quarter of its total population.”[4] The number of current countries that were once part of its colonial empire are too numerous to list here, but included varying levels of control over much of Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India, Pakistan, Singapore, Kenya, Hong Kong, and South Africa just to name a few. The empire was built on economic adventurism, naval power, military domination, and colonial control. It developed over several hundred years, accelerating when the British led a coalition to defeat Napoleon at Waterloo in 1815. It was later victorious in both World War I and II, ending competition for European hegemony from their industrial rival Germany. Yet colonial revolts, including the independence of India in 1947, proved too much to sustain and by 1956, with the Suez crisis, the empire was in full collapse. With the return of Hong Kong to China in 1997, the once great empire was no more.

Why this occurred is the subject of many books, movies, and academic papers. Boiled down, however, the decline can be traced to the consequences of an extended empire, the costs of maintaining military forces in those lands, unsustainable debts, and the eventual loss of the privileged economic position of the British pound sterling. In summary, the UK had failed to notice or heed the warnings Brutus provided to the United States, encapsulated in the quote above.

Brutus, an anonymous American writer opposed to the adoption of the United States Constitution, was the nom de plume used by the author (or authors) of the Anti-federalist Papers. These papers paralleled the Federalist Papers, arguing against adoption, fearing the federal government was being set up as too powerful. While, as we know, the Constitution was eventually adopted, the Anti-federalists did much to influence its final form, and Brutus’ papers provide, even to this day, important reminders of the dangers of a too-powerful central government.

What do the Anti-federalist Papers of Brutus tell us about what happened to the British Empire, and how do those warnings apply to the United States today?

While the Anti-federalists had many concerns, the most germane to these questions are those articulated in Brutus No. VIII. That paper, published in 1789, continued the argument that the Constitution’s “necessary and proper” clause (Article I, Section 8) gave the federal government too much power. That article begins, “The Congress shall have the power” and then lists the enumerated powers of the federal government. The Anti-federalists believed that clause meant, as per Brutus in the earlier paper “Brutus No. VI” (1787), the federal government “had no other limitation than the discretion of the Congress” and this could, in the future, “destroy all the power of the state governments.”[5] Germane to these questions then, are the enumerated powers that give the national government the ability to raise, borrow, and spend money, and specifically to maintain standing military forces. Brutus warned that these unlimited powers threatened the economic future of the country and the sovereignty of the people. Such an exclusive power would amount to “unlimitted authority and controul over all the wealth and all the force of the union.” Standing armies, he argued, drain the nation’s resources, and since they held allegiance to the military command and not the Constitution, might, in a crisis, overthrow an elected government. He quotes a British Member of Parliament (“Mr. Pulteney”[6]) to summarize the concern: “I have always been, and always shall be against a standing army of any kind; to me it is a terrible thing, whether under that of a parliamentary, or any other designation; a standing army is still a standing army by whatever name it is called…” (Brutus No. VIII)

True, in the end, the British Empire was not brought down by a military coup, but instead by the economic burden of their global military responsibilities, including efforts to maintain their extended colonies and the cost of two world wars. These expenditures drained the treasury and turned the once powerful nation into a debtor – just as Brutus had warned America’s Founders could happen here.

Riding on its military might, the British Empire had at one time enjoyed economic dominance unparalleled in history. The British pound sterling was the world’s primary “reserve currency” in the 19th and first half of the 20th century. This gave the British huge economic advantage, as their currency was held in large quantities by governments and banks across the globe. Those who wished to conduct international trade had to buy British pounds to pay foreign entities, make international investments, and participate in other global economic activities. But a reserve currency is also called an “anchor” currency, as it is chosen due to the economic stability of the nation that issues it. That stability relies on the ability of that nation to pay its debts. Exhausted by war and the military cost of its empire, the pound sterling lost that status to the U.S. dollar in 1944, when allied leaders decided to link world currencies to the U.S. dollar. At the end of World War II, British debt had reached 200 percent of its Gross Domestic Product (GDP). This debt, worsened by poor economic policies and domestic spending, eventually led to Britain seeking debt relief from the International Monetary Fund in 1976. The WWII loans from the United States were only paid off in 2006.[7] After WWII, the United States, which had limited its military adventurism (with notable exceptions) up to that point, had eclipsed the British Empire.

Of note, while there was no coup, viewers of the TV show “The Crown” and history buffs also know that one – this time in 1968 and in response to the ongoing and precipitous decline of the empire – was nearly initiated by a group of British military, business, and political interests led by Lord Mountbatten[8], who had held multiple high positions in the British military, including first sea lord, admiral of the fleet, chief of the United Kingdom Defense Staff, and chairman of the Chiefs of Staff Committee[9]. While, thankfully, that did not happen, planning for it had commenced. By 1968 the Empire was through.

Fast forward to today, and we see that Brutus’ concern is once again important to consider here in the United States. America now holds the privileged position as the world’s top reserve currency. The U.S. dollar accounts for 59 percent of reserves held by central banks across the world, which is mostly held in cash or U.S. bonds. Nations across the globe use the U.S. dollar to conduct international financial activity, which accrues great benefit to our economy. Yet, the debt for those bonds exceeds $13 trillion[10] and the total U.S. National Debt stands now at nearly $31 trillion, or $243,000 per taxpayer and 123 percent of our GDP.[11]

It is hard to imagine anyone wants to follow the example of the British Empire, yet our military costs have continued to grow year after year, including massive expenditures for bases around the world, and most recently involvement in the Global War on Terror and conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. We are now, additionally, a primary funding source of Ukrainian resistance to Russian aggression, committing $54 billion.[12] The 2023 National Defense Authorization Act, which passed the House in July 2022, included a record $850 billion in total defense spending. (The Senate received the bill in August 2022.[13])

This is in addition to the high levels of domestic spending on such programs as Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security, various transfer programs, as well as funds for operating the departments of the federal government. The President’s budget request for 2023, still being considered by Congress, is over $5 trillion. That request includes over $300 billion in interest payments on the national debt alone, a burden that is rising rapidly and which will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. One Congressional Budget Office (CBO) report estimated that the U.S. taxpayer will pay over $8 trillion in interest on the debt between 2023 and 2032.[14] That is just interest, not principle, and equals over $25,000 for every one of America’s 325 million inhabitants.

The question is whether we can continue to maintain this level of debt spending, or whether, in the words of Brutus, Congress is well on the way to creating a “national debt, so large, as to exceed the ability of the country ever to sink.” (Brutus No. VIII). Should we continue down that path, the ability to meet this debt will eventually come into question. Should we, like the UK, damage the full faith and credit that the world holds in our ability to do so, and we lose our reserve currency dominance, the repercussions could be severe. It is something that we need to think carefully about.

In the words of Brutus, “I take it for granted, as an axiom in politic, that the people should never authorise their rulers to do any thing, which if done, would operate to their injury.”

Most Americans cannot imagine a massive decline in our world position, nor that this nation is at any risk from a coup or revolt against the federal government. One is reminded, however, of the wise words of Ronald Reagan, who, like Brutus, warned us that freedom and liberty are not the default for any nation. “Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it on to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children’s children what it was once like in the United States where men were free.”[15]

There have been many efforts to reign in the power of the Congress to borrow and spend, whether on domestic programs or military forces. The Balanced Budget Amendment to the Constitution, one that Brutus would no doubt support, is proposed year after year, and almost passed in 1995 and 1997, failing to achieve the required two-thirds majority by just one vote.[16] It failed again in 2011. The amendment threatens the ability of Congress to exercise the power that most concerned Brutus, and thus the very people who it controls will have to agree to it for it to pass. Power is seldom, if ever, relinquished voluntarily. So far, that has not happened, and spending continues apace.

Brutus was prescient in his warnings about the central government’s power to accrue debt. The British Empire provides an example of what can happen when a strong central government takes on military and foreign affairs commitments that make that debt unsustainable. So far, the United States has been able to handle its debts and remains an economic powerhouse. The question that is yet to be answered is whether we will maintain this position in the future, and what will happen if we do not.

Jay McConville is a military veteran, management professional, and active civic volunteer currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Public Policy and Administration at the L. Douglas Wilder School of Government and Public Affairs, Virginia Commonwealth University. Prior to beginning his doctoral studies, he held multiple key technology and management positions within the Aerospace and Defense industry, including twice as President and CEO. He served in the U.S. Army as an Intelligence Officer, and has also been active in civic and industry volunteer associations, including running for elected office, serving as a political party chairman, and serving multiple terms as President of both his industry association’s Washington DC Chapter and his local youth sports association. Today he serves on the Operating Board of Directors of Constituting America. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in Government from George Mason University, and a Master of Science in Strategic Intelligence from the Defense Intelligence College. Jay lives in Richmond with his wife Susan Ulsamer McConville. They have three children and three grandchildren, and are expecting a fourth in September.

[1] “Brutus VIII.” New York Journal 1789-06-15 : Rpt. in The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution. Vol. 15. Ed. Gaspare J. Saladino and John P. Kaminski. Madison: Wisconsin Historical Society Press, 1984. 335-38. Print, as featured in ConSource:

[2] Thiede, Joshua (2022). BritBox Eyes American Expansion, but Plans to Avoid Content Becoming ‘Transatlantic Pudding’. The Streamable (29 June 2022).

[3] Kitching, Chris (2014). Brits? You’re all uptight, obsessed by tea, the royals and family trees, say Americans… and no, we can’t understand Geordie accents either, (5 October 2014).

[4] Augustyn, Adam ed. (n.d.) British Empire: Dominance and dominions. Britannica online

[5] “Brutus VI.” New York Journal 1789-06-12 : . Rpt. in The Documentary History of the Ratification of the Constitution. Vol. 15. Ed. Gaspare J. Saladino and John P. Kaminski. Madison: Wisconsin Historical Society Press, 1984. 110-17. Print., as quoted in

[6] Actually, William Pulteney, a prominent British Member of Parliament who served in the early 1700’s.

[7] Wikipedia (n.d.) History of the British National Debt, retrieved from,_Civilization,_p309-9

[8] BBC (2019). Lord Mountbatten: Did Prince Philip’s uncle attempt to lead a coup against Harold Wilson’s government? History Extra, BBC History Magazine and BBC History Revealed (29 November 2019).

[9] Britannica (2022). Louis Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten, Britannica online, (21 June 2022).

[10] Best, Richard (2022). How the U.S. dollar became the world’s reserve currency. Investopedia, (24 June 2022).

[11] US Debt, retrieved 18 August 2022 from

[12] Hennis, Ade (2022). The U.S. has sent billions of dollars in aid to Ukraine – Breaking it all down. Market Realist (11 August 2022),

[13] United States Congress, H.R.7900 – National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2023, 117th Congress (2021-2022), retrieved 18 August 2022 from

[14] Interest costs on the national debt set to reach historic highs in the next decade, May 31, 2022, Peter G. Peterson Foundation, blog, retrieved from

[15] (2018). Ronald Reagan Freedom Speech., (31 August 2018), retrieved August 18, 2022 from

[16] Govtrack (n.d.). H.J.Res. 1 (104th): Balanced Budget Amendment, and Istook, Ernest (2011). Considering a Balanced Budget Amendment: Lessons from History, Heritage Foundation,


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Guest Essayist: Thomas Bruscino

Relating the American experience to the rise and fall of empires is trickier than it looks. Empires are complicated morally and historically—none more so than the British Empire—and the United States has its own complicated understanding of its relationship with empire.

“Empire” is no longer a morally neutral term. Most people these days believe “empire” is something universally or exclusively bad. And why wouldn’t people believe that? While it is true that the simplistic Marxist critique of imperialism as late-stage capitalism has had much to do with the bad rap for empires, that does not let empire off the hook. Part of the reason the Marxist view took hold was because most empires have been rapacious and exploitative, if not genocidal. Nowhere was that more evident than in the scramble for Africa, when European powers carved up the continent with little effect but suffering and despair for the local populations. Similar results of empire could be seen throughout the Americas and Asia.

However, not all empires are created equal. Even if we agree all empires are in general bad, some empires are way worse than others, just as some bad empires have had some positive effects. In Monty Python’s The Life of Brian, the Middle Eastern radicals sarcastically ask, “What have the Romans done for us?” The question eventually turns to: “Apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, [and peace], what have the Romans ever done for us?”

The line is funny because it is an unexpected contradiction in truths. But it could also be read as a commentary by British actors on the post British empire world. This is not the place to sort out the net positives and negatives of the British empire, nor to explain why the empire eroded over the course of the twentieth century. Here it is only to recognize that the British empire did help bring a measure of order and stability to the international system that certainly was not good for all, but was also more liberal and beneficial than the alternative empires of the time.

In the years around World War II, the British gave up their empire, leaving the question of who would provide order in the international system. During the Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union competed over who would fill that gap. Interestingly, neither side called themselves an “empire.” In fact, both sides accused the other of imperialism.

The Soviet fall left the United States as the world’s great superpower, and responsible, in some measure, for providing order and stability lest some other, more pernicious power rise and impose a less favorable order on the world. Americans have struggled with what to do in that role. The country has not hesitated to intervene all around the world, often with lethal force, but it has consistently shied away from picking up an explicitly imperial mantle. Even when the United States joined the European and Japanese imperial scrambles around the turn of the twentieth century, Americans, including expansionists like Theodore Roosevelt, generally avoided the word “empire” for describing their foreign policy ambitions.

Frustrated by America’s inconsistency as a great power, some contemporary critics have encouraged the United States to embrace its role as an explicit empire for good. Eager to make their point, the critics have appealed to the language of the Founders, who often did use “empire” to describe the American experiment.

But that is too simple. The Founders used “empire” in specific ways. In many cases, they meant it roughly as a synonym for the country. Federalist 1 stated that the proposed Constitution was about, “the fate of an empire in many respects the most interesting in the world. It has been frequently remarked that it seems to have been reserved to the people of this country, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question, whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend for their political constitutions on accident and force.”

When the Founders did use empire to describe the expansion of the United States, they added important modifiers. Thomas Jefferson’s was the most famous, “we should have such an empire for liberty as she has never surveyed since the creation: & I am persuaded no constitution was ever before so well calculated as ours for extensive empire & self-government.”

Note the common theme. This “most interesting” of empires, this “empire for liberty,” was unique because it was about self-government and freedom internally. If “empire for liberty” sounds now like an oxymoron, that is because it always was. It was an experiment, a new type of empire, built around trying to balance the necessary and inevitable tension between exerting great power and modeling freedom. To make it work, and to revise historian Walter McDougall’s framing, described in his book, Promised Land, Crusader State: The American Encounter with the World Since 1776, the promised land always required the crusader state, and crusader state had to remain the promised land.

It is the inheritance of that tenuous balance that has made subsequent Americans uncomfortable with the word “empire.” That is a good thing. The ugly empires of the nineteenth century clearly were not, and were not trying, to be promised lands of freedom. Without that constraint those empires overreached and fell.

The power and influence of the United States in the world has always strived to be something different. Whatever else that can be said about American expansion and intervention overseas, and there is plenty of room for critique, it has most often been constrained by Americans themselves. Whether through idealistic objectives set by governments in power, contentious domestic politics, or the vocal opposition of small minorities or brave lone voices, the United States has never expanded or intervened without the reminder that such activities threaten the soul of America itself. “She might become the dictatress of the world,” John Quincy Adams said in his famous address on July 4, 1821, but “She would be no longer the ruler of her own spirit.”

From Canada and Mexico, Cuba and the Philippines, Vietnam, and all the way to Afghanistan and Iraq, that reminder has always been there, embedded by the Founders in the American system, meant to constrain all-too-human ambitions of domination. If the United States is to avoid imperial overreach, its people must continue to remember that America’s “glory is not dominion, but liberty,” and always reach accordingly.

Thomas Bruscino is Associate Professor of History in the Department of Military Strategy, Planning, and Operations at the United States Army War College. He holds a Ph.D. in military history from Ohio University and has been a historian at the US Army Center of Military History in Washington, DC and the US Army Combat Studies Institute at Fort Leavenworth, and a professor at the US Army School of Advanced Military Studies. He is the author of A Nation Forged in War: How World War II Taught Americans to Get Along(University of Tennessee Press, 2010), and Out of Bounds: Transnational Sanctuary in Irregular Warfare (CSI Press, 2006), and numerous book chapters. His writings have appeared in the Claremont Review of Books, Army History, The New Criterion, Military Review, The Journal of Military History, White House Studies, War & Society, War in History, The Journal of America’s Military Past, Infinity Journal, Doublethink, Reviews in American History, Joint Force Quarterly, and Parameters.

The views and opinions presented are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of the U.S. Army War College, the U.S. Army, or the Department of Defense.


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Guest Essayist: Andrew Langer

The beauty of the American Constitution, as originally conceived, was that its authors recognized the inherent dangers of concentrated power at the highest levels of governance, and created a structure that both constrained the federal government’s powers while at the same time enumerating that the balance of those powers would be retained by state governments (and, by extension, local governments, since most local governments are creations of state governments), and the people.

The American Founders did this because they recognized that the bulk of public policy decision making was best left to levels of government that were closer to the people—those levels of government better understood problems in individual communities and local governments, and governance, were more easily controlled by citizens within those jurisdictions.

But in the wake of World War I, also known as “The Great War” or the “War to End All Wars, there came a call for greater international cooperation by governments, if not some kind of outright “global government” and out of those calls came, first, the League of Nations, and then, after the League of Nations failed to prevent World War II, the United Nations.

The First World War was commonly referred to as “The Great War” because of the war’s truly devastating scale—in terms of both lives lost, and people injured, as well as the impact it had on infrastructure. In fact, across the globe, you can still see the impact the war had on the surrounding environment. As a result, there was a call by leading nations to create some kind of instrument of global cooperation, and disarmament, to prevent just that kind of war from happening again: a “League of Nations.”

And the League of Nations met with limited success, in spite of the fact that the United States didn’t join even with President Woodrow Wilson’s advocacy for just such a league. But because the league failed to grasp geopolitical realities, such as what the sanctions on a post-World War I Germany might have on that nation’s ongoing politics, that body failed to prevent the Second World War from occurring.

It was during World War II that the concept of the United Nations was born—with the cooperation of the United States, Great Britain and the Soviet Union. In 1945, as the war was drawing to a close, the leaders of the Allied powers agreed that following the war’s end, that such a body would be developed. In June of 1945, just after Germany surrendered, the UN Charter was created. In October of 1945, two months after Japan surrendered, the Charter was made real.

To be clear, the United Nations is not a “world government” though there are some who would like it to be. Clark Eichelberger, a 20th century peace activist and advocate for both the League of Nations and the UN, wrote in the Annals of the American Academy of Political Science in 1949 that:

“World government has evolved and will evolve through the United Nations… the United Nations is the beginning of the process we need.”

But in the last seven decades, despite great efforts on the part of some to make a global government manifest, this has not occurred. The UN has no power to tax, no power to directly regulate. Any interference in inter-governmental disputes or in civil conflict can only come with either the agreement of local governments, or, in rare occasions, with the decision of voting members of the United Nations.

When it comes to involvement of the United States, the U.S. relationship with the UN is similar in most respects to how the deals are made with most foreign agreements, i.e., through the Constitution’s treaty powers.  Essentially, from a constitutional perspective, the involvement of the U.S. in the UN is not dissimilar from other bilateral, between the U.S. and one nation, or multilateral, between the U.S. and more than one other nation, international agreements.

In fact, the only way for the United States to be “legally obligated” to cooperative policy decision making by the UN is for Congress to ratify whatever policy United States diplomats are considering signing or have signed. While those obligations are to our partners at the UN, the “legal” portion of it has to do with the agreement the U.S. government has with its people i.e., to only be bound, internationally, through ratified treaties.

This is because those international agreements, once ratified, become U.S. law, and enormously difficult to disentangle once put into place.  Take the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), for example. Though not an agreement through the UN, it bound U.S. trade policy for decades, and became enormously difficult to reform, despite the negative impacts many in the United States were seeing.

In contrast, the Kyoto Protocols on climate, a climate policy agreement negotiated via the UN, was never ratified by the U.S. Senate. Many in the U.S. had deep and abiding concerns about the impact the policy obligations of Kyoto could potentially have on the U.S. economy. So, while the United States, under President Bill Clinton, signed the Kyoto Protocols, and there were many things that the Clinton administration could do to advance the goals of Kyoto (because of the size of the administrative/regulatory state and the powers that the Executive Branch has in terms of interpreting or re-interpreting existing federal environmental laws), the United States was not bound by the Kyoto protocols, as they would be within a treaty.

Central in all of this is the issue of “sovereignty.” By definition, when the United States, or any nation for that matter, enters into a treaty, they are giving up some measure of that nation’s sovereignty in favor of international cooperation usually as a result of the combination of negotiation and compromise.

As was demonstrated by the withdrawal of Great Britain from the European Union, multinational cooperative governance can have huge implications for individual member nations and their citizens—something British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher had warned about when the EU was created. The further removed from the local population that government control becomes, the more onerous the burdens those governments can impose. With that comes a real difficulty in forming policies that reflect what local populations need and takes steps to protect those populations from harm.

It could be said that Prime Minister Thatcher was echoing the concerns raised by her predecessor in office, Winston Churchill, who, despite being instrumental in the creation of the UN, had concerns of his own.  As reported by the New Republic in 1949:

“Churchill, as he confessed at The Hague in May, 1948, never accepted the concept of the United Nations. He feared the consequences of ‘a system where there was nothing between the supreme headquarters and the commanders of the different divisions and battalions.’ He wanted a world organization made up of representatives of regional associates.”

Thankfully, given protections that the U.S. Constitution affords, the people of the United States can rest assured that their sovereignty will be protected from a United Nations becoming the kind of multinational governmental behemoth that the EU became.

This is due, in no small measure, to the United States Constitution’s mandates about the Senate’s advise and consent role in terms of treaty ratification—if the foreign relations team of a U.S. president were to fail at their job or to be seriously compromised in some measure in terms of international negotiation, and as a result the U.S. were to give up a great deal of its independence, its sovereignty, it is left to the Senate to ensure that the interests of the people of the United States are protected, and that the agreement should not be ratified.

It is important to also note that Congress has a vital role to play in terms of internationally cooperative military activities. The UN has no standing army, another aspect of its existence that makes it fall short of a “world government.” It relies on its member nations in order for it to engage in any military action, usually under the auspices of “peacekeeping.”

The President is obligated to inform Congress of any military action that falls short of a “war”—and the President has 90 days before Congress must take action on whether to continue such operations.

In terms of ongoing “peacekeeping” operations, such as those that occurred in the Balkans during the 1990s after the collapse of the Yugoslavian government, Congress also has the power to give or deny funds to such efforts. If Congress doesn’t want U.S. military personnel involved in a specific peacekeeping mission, then Congress can specifically block the Executive Branch from spending funds on that mission.

In terms of the relationship between the United States and the United Nations, the obligations of the U.S. are not entirely different than any other treaty-governed relationship that the U.S. may be obligated to.  The issues of sovereignty and compromise remain the same—and the relationship between the executive branch and the legislative branch in terms of the power to negotiate and the power to ratify are maintained.  But, as always, it remains left to the people to ensure that both branches protect the interests of the American people in the long term.

Andrew Langer is President of the Institute for Liberty, as well as Chairman and Founder of the Institute for Regulatory Analysis and Engagement. IFL is a non-profit advocacy organization focused on advancing free-market and limited government principles into public policy at all levels. IRAE is a non-profit academic and activist organization whose mission is to examine regulations and regulatory proposals, assess their economic and societal impacts, and offer expert commentary in order to create better public policies. Andrew has been involved in free-market and limited-government causes for more than 25 years, has testified before Congress nearly two dozen times, spoken to audiences across the United States, and has taught at the collegiate level.

A globally-recognized expert on the impact of regulation on business, Andrew is regularly called on to offer innovative solutions to the challenges of squaring public policy priorities with the impact and efficacy of those policies, as well as their unintended consequences. Prior to becoming President of IFL and founding IRAE, he was the principal regulatory affairs lobbyist for the National Federation of Independent Business, the nation’s largest small business association. As President of the Institute for Liberty, he became recognized as an expert on the Constitution, especially issues surrounding private property rights, free speech, abuse of power, and the concentration of power in the federal executive branch.

Andrew has had an extensive career in media—having appeared on television programs around the world. From 2017 to 2021, he hosted a highly-rated weekly program on WBAL NewsRadio 1090 in Baltimore (as well as serving as their principal fill-in host from 2011 until 2021), and has filled in for both nationally-syndicated and satellite radio programs. He also created and hosted several different podcasts—currently hosting Andrew and Jerry Save The World, with long-time colleague, Jerry Rogers.

He holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration from Troy University and his degree from William & Mary is in International Relations.


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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett

In the previous essay we saw the causes in the Twentieth Century that led to the creation of international organizations such as the League of Nations and the United Nations Organization. In this essay we look at why the American Founders and Framers would counsel a prudent caution against unlimited commitment to and reliance on international organizations for dealing with foreign affairs.

First, the Founders would remind us that, in committing our national resources to promoting the good of the world community through international organizations, we must not lose sight of the fact that our government has a paramount obligation to secure the rights and vital interests of the United States and its citizens. These are what James Madison called “the permanent and aggregate interests of the community” in The Federalist No. 10. This fundamental obligation of our government is expressed in the Declaration of Independence, which claims “that to secure these rights” – the natural rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, among others – “governments are instituted among men.” The Preamble to the United States Constitution reaffirms the fundamental purpose for which our government was designed; the American people ordained our Constitution to “secure the Blessings of Liberty to Ourselves and our Posterity.”[1] The American Founders would therefore caution against the view – as held by leaders such as Woodrow Wilson – that America’s highest obligation is to put our immediate interest aside in order to promote the good of the world community, an end that is most effectively achieved through our commitment to international organizations.

Some of the American Founders might have conceded the idea that international organizations could be useful to bring nations to a more common understanding of what justice among nations should be like. However, they would also caution that reliance on international organizations for this purpose could potentially lull us into abandoning the necessary discernment, vigilance, and prudence of determining the motives and measures of other nations – and possibly even the willingness to resort to force when necessary for our defense. A reliance on international organizations could beguile us into believing that all nations now behave rationally and can be trusted to resolve problems by dialogue alone. In other words, reliance on international organizations can give us the comfortable feeling that we have reached “the End of History,” and that modern nations have evolved beyond the motives and means of the Twentieth Century. However, plenty of real-world examples – the Russian invasion of Ukraine, for example – show the naivete of this view. Furthermore, we might be tempted to forget that The United Nations is made up of nations with governments or regimes that are fundamentally hostile to the principles of justice upon which the United States was founded. Alexander Hamilton, writing as Publius in The Federalist No. 6, reminds us that so long as human beings are capable of being “ambitious, vindictive, and rapacious,” and so long as governments are administered by human beings, there will always be nations inclined to go to war for a variety of reasons. As Hamilton writes:

The causes of hostility among nations are innumerable…Of this description are the love of power or the desire of pre-eminence and dominion – the jealousy of power, or the desire of equality and safety. There are others which have a more circumscribed though an equally operative influence within their spheres. Such are the rivalships and competitions of commerce between commercial nations. And there are others, not less numerous than either of the former, which take their origin entirely in private passions; in the attachments, enmities, interests, hopes, and fears of leading individuals in the communities of which they are members. Men of this class … have not scrupled to sacrifice the national tranquillity to personal advantage or personal gratification.

Even commercial republics and democracies – though founded on the principle of popular rather than monarchical rule – are prone to conflict amongst themselves. Alexander Hamilton might say, therefore, that “one must be far gone in utopian speculations” to assume that nations would actually put aside their own interests and govern cooperatively through the United Nations Organization for the good of the whole. Such an assumption would be dangerous and potentially destructive to the “permanent and aggregate interests” of the citizens of the United States.

The third concern the Founders might caution us about is that in committing the United States to the authority of international organizations, we might inadvertently relinquish our domestic sovereignty and our political independence from other nations. We might also lose our liberty as a nation to decide things like what our real obligations are to other nations, and when, how, and why we should act when dealing with foreign policy issues. These considerations are what led the U.S. Senate to vote against membership in the League of Nations in 1919.

This is a lesson President George Washington learned very well in the 1790s. The United States had signed a treaty of mutual defense with France in 1778; however, as the French Revolution turned into terror, the new French regime claimed that the treaty obligated the United States to assist them in their war against monarchical regimes throughout Europe. The treaty threatened to embroil the United States in a European war, effectively stripping the United States of its political independence and the liberty of choosing when, and when not, to go to war. From this example, Washington learned several lessons that should caution us against over-commitment to treaty-based international organizations today. “It is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances with any portion of the foreign world,” Washington wrote in his Farewell Address. “Taking care always to keep ourselves by suitable establishments on a respectable defensive posture, we may safely trust to temporary alliances for extraordinary emergencies.” Washington understood that maintaining our political independence and national liberty is vital so that “we may choose peace or war, as our interest, guided by justice, shall counsel.”

It is vital to maintain this political independence so that government may best choose how to fulfill its fundamental Constitutional duty of securing the rights and liberties of its citizens. This leads to a final word of caution regarding American commitment to international organizations. The American people, through their Constitution, have vested control over foreign affairs in Congress and the President. Congress, for example, is vested with the power of declaring war, and the President is vested with the authority to act as Commander in Chief of the country’s military forces. Because the American people have granted these powers, they have entrusted the American government with the responsibility of dealing with foreign policy issues for the security of our rights. According to the U.S. Constitution, however, the American people did not authorize our government to “delegate” that responsibility or those powers to another governing body, including international organizations – especially ones comprised of nations that abhor the very principles of justice for which the United States stands.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


[1] Emphasis added.


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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett

The United Nations Organization was officially established in 1945, but its conception arose much earlier. In the early Twentieth Century there was a growing worldwide movement calling for an international organization to work out military and arms limitations agreements among the “civilized” nations of the world – namely, European nations.

In the aftermath of World War I, the League of Nations was finally established with the lofty goal of preserving world peace. In reality, its purpose was to bring together the “democratic” (i.e., “civilized” or “historically advanced”) nations to work together regarding territorial disputes and colonial possessions through negotiation rather than resorting to war. However, the United States Senate rejected membership in the League of Nations on the grounds that it would strip our nation of some degree of its domestic sovereignty and its independence in choosing foreign policy actions. The League limped ineffectively through the 1920s and met with several failures in the 1930s, including failure to prevent the Japanese invasion of Manchuria and the Italian war in Ethiopia. The League of Nations closed down with the outbreak of World War II in 1939 and officially disbanded in 1946.

Franklin Roosevelt, however, revived the idea of an organization of United Nations for the purpose of waging the war against the Axis Powers. President Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill drafted the text of the Declaration by United Nations in 1941, and the following year it was signed by the United States, the United Kingdom, the U.S.S.R, the Republic of China, and twenty-two other nations. The official UN Charter was approved by 51 member states in San Francisco in April 1945, just after Roosevelt’s death.

As with the League of Nations, the object of the United Nations was to allow countries to settle international disputes through discussion rather than war. Near the end of World War II, Roosevelt seemed to believe that such a forum would be useful and necessary to continue peaceful cooperation between the United States and the U.S.S.R. This was reaffirmed under President Harry Truman after World War II as tensions began to develop between the two countries and eventually developed into the Cold War. The Soviet Union, however, used the United Nations for political posturing against Western “capitalist” and “colonial” nations. Still, some Americans believed that the United Nations was a vital tool for allowing dialogue between the Western nations and the Soviet Union as a means to avoid nuclear conflict.

Many Americans were inclined to withdraw from foreign affairs after World War II, but the developing atomic threat from the Soviet Union and specter of sprawling communism inclined the United States back toward active engagement in world affairs through the United Nations. The United States joined the UNO because, unlike under the League of Nations, participation is UN policies is, for all intents and purposes, optional; this means that no nation permanently gives up its domestic sovereignty or its independence in choosing foreign policy actions. On the other hand, this means that the United Nations has no real “teeth” in terms of coercive power; member states comply or not from a kind of international “peer pressure” in order to save face. For example, the UN’s International Court of Justice issues judgments in international disputes in accordance with its understanding of international law, but its decisions are binding only on those nations that recognize its authority and jurisdiction. This is one cause of the general ineffectiveness of the United Nations in preventing conflict in its nearly eighty years of existence. Its lackluster record is also a result of the structure of the UN’s Security Council, which consists of fifteen member states – five permanent members (China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States) and ten non-permanent members. Each of the five permanent member states has an absolute veto power and can immediately block any proposed policy (see Essay #20 on the defects of the United Provinces of the Netherlands).

The American Founders would have some words of caution about involving the United States in international organizations such as the League of Nations and the United Nations, which we will discuss in the next essay.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


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Guest Essayist: David B. Kopel

In 1949, after more than 20 years of fighting, the Chinese Communist Party overthrew the Republic of China. The party’s chairman, Mao Zedong, became dictator, and ruled until his death in 1976. Mao’s regime was the most murderous in history. His regime killed over 86 million people—more than Hitler and Stalin combined.

In 1966 Mao initiated “The Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution.” It started as a campaign against the more pragmatic elements of the Chinese Communist Party—such as leaders who a few years before had forced Mao to retreat from an agricultural collectivization program, the Great Leap Forward, that had caused the deadliest famine ever.

Incited by Mao, the Cultural Revolution began with the most privileged students—the children of the top communist party officials—at the top universities. They rioted, rampaged, and looted, first on-campus and then beyond. They started by killing or torturing teachers, and then moved on to the general public. Soon, the rage mobs of ultra-Maoists spread nationwide. Anyone’s home could be invaded and looted, and anyone could be murdered or tortured. The police were forbidden to interfere—or even to fight back when the mobs assaulted the police.

As the Cultural Revolution continued, things got even worse. The Cultural Revolution ended only when Mao died.

The Americans who created the United States Constitution could not know about the tyrants who would arise in the twentieth century. They did know of bad men who had tried to seize absolute power, such as Julius Caesar in the Roman Republic, or King James II of England. Yet the worst of English kings or Roman emperors were mild in comparison to the totalitarian Mao regime.

The American “people did not establish primarily a utility-maximizing constitution, but rather a tyranny-minimizing one.” Rebecca I. Brown, Accountability, Liberty, and the Constitution, 98 Columbia Law Review 531, 570 (1998). This essay describes some of the provisions of the U.S. Constitution that aim to thwart absolutism and totalitarianism. The information about China under Mao is based on David B. Kopel, The Party Commands the Gun: Mao Zedong’s Arms Policies and Mass Killings, Chapter 19.D.3 in Nicholas J. Johnson, David B. Kopel, George A. Mocsary, E. Gregory Wallace & Donald E. Kilmer, Firearms Law and the Second Amendment: Regulation, Rights and Policy (Aspen Publishers, 3d ed. 2022), pp. 1863-1966. Additional citations are available therein.

The Preamble to the Constitution states:

“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

The principles and the results of the Mao regime were the opposite. For example, starting in 1972-73, the people were ordered to condemn the “reactionary” ideas of Confucius, such as “the people are the foundation of the state,” and “depositing riches in the people.” As described below, the Mao regime cultivated injustice, domestic violence, the welfare of the ruling class at the expense of the people, and the eradication of liberty. The regime did “provide for the common defense” in the sense that China was not invaded in 1949-76, other than in some border clashes with the Soviet Union.

The U.S. Constitution creates three distinct and independent branches of government:

“All legislative powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States.” Art. I, §1.

“The executive power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America.” Art. II, §1.

“The judicial power of the United States shall be vested in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and establish.” Art. III, §1

Under the U.S. Constitution, the three branches of government check and balance each other, as power is set against power. In a communist regime, there are no checks on the party’s will. All political power belongs to the party. Under Mao, “at the top, thirty to forty men made all the major decisions. Their power was personal, fluid, and dependent on their relations with Mao.” Andrew J. Nathan, Foreword, in Li Zhusui, The Private Life of Chairman Mao xi (Tai Hung-Chao trans. 1994).

“The House of Representatives shall be composed of members chosen every second year by the people of the several states.” Senators are to be elected every “six years” and the President every “four years.” Art. I §§2-3; Art. II §1.

There have been no elections since the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) seized power in 1949. Although the party calls the nation it rules the “People’s Republic of China,” the name is a lie. In a “republic” where “the people” rule, the people elect government officials. In the People’s Republic of China, the party rules because the military keeps the party in power. It is reasonable to infer that the CCP knows that if free elections were held, the CCP would lose.

Particular types of “power” are granted to each of the three branches of government. Arts. I §8, II §§2-3, III §2.

The three branches of United States government are granted certain powers by the people. The branches of government may exercise the particular powers expressly granted by the Constitution, as well as some incidental powers that are implied by the express grants. No branch of government, and not even the U.S. government as a whole, has all possible powers.

A communist regime claims unlimited power over everything. Mao acknowledged no legal limit on himself. The practical limit was the difficulty of one man imposing his absolute will on hundreds of millions. The Cultural Revolution was Mao’s method for eliminating everything and everyone that impeded his power.

Congress creates law by passing a “bill,” in compliance with certain procedures. Art. I §7.

The Mao regime was not based on law. As Mao told the very sympathetic American journalist Edgar Snow, “We don’t really know what is meant by law, because we have never paid any attention to it!” Li Cheng-Chung, The Question of Human Rights on China Mainland 12 (1979) (statement to Edgar Snow 1961).

During the 1950s, there were some efforts to create normal legal codes, but these were abandoned once the Great Leap Forward into full communism began in 1958. In contrast to the Hitler regime, which issued many statutes and regulations, the Mao system relied mainly on edicts from the communist leadership, the Party Center. There were many exhortative propaganda campaigns based on slogans.

The party-controlled national newspaper, the People’s Daily, was read to peasants and workers in frequent, mandatory political instruction meetings, which often consumed the rest of the day after work. In effect, the latest article in the People’s Daily was the official source for people to learn how to behave without getting in trouble with the authorities. As different factions within the CCP gained ascendency, the edicts changed frequently. So doing what had been mandatory on Monday could be punished on Friday.

“The privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require it.” Art. I §9.

When a court issues a writ of habeas corpus, whoever is holding an individual prisoner must appear in court and prove to the court that the detention of the prisoner is lawful. In communist regimes, there is no recourse for individuals who are arbitrarily imprisoned or sent to slave labor camps.

Neither the federal government nor the states may enact any “ex post facto law.” Art. I §§9-10.

In other words, a criminal law cannot retrospectively punish an act that was lawful at the time it was committed. Just the opposite under Mao and all communist regimes. For example, in the 1956 Hundred Flowers period, people were encouraged to frankly express their views about perceived shortcomings of the CCP. Later, persons who had done so were imprisoned or sent to slave labor camps.

Likewise, during the first several months of the Cultural Revolution, young people from all over China were given free train tickets to see Chairman Mao speak at mass rallies at Tiananmen Square in Beijing. This was an exception to the normal rule that a person could not travel away from his or her village.

A few years later, when factional politics within the CCP had changed, 3.5 million people who had attended one of the 1966 rallies were given other free tickets: one-way transportation to forced labor in the countryside.

Throughout the Mao era, people were often punished for acts that had been lawful at the time, such as expressing non-communist political opinions in the 1930s.

“The President shall, at stated times, receive for his services a compensation, which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the period for which he shall have been elected; and he shall not receive within that period any other emolument from the United States, or any of them.” Art. II §1.

The President’s salary and expense accounts are set by Congress. Mao, in contrast, treated himself to whatever he wanted. In Beijing he lived in the former palace of the emperors, with his own private swimming pool and beach. He had fifty more fortified palaces around the country.

The special Giant Mountain (Jushan) farm supplied fine foods daily to the portly Mao and the others at apex of the CCP food chain. When Mao was away from Beijing, which was most of the time, daily airplanes delivered food from Jushan. The élite CCP leadership in the provinces had similar arrangements for special food, while the masses starved.

Mao enjoyed the company of many beautiful young concubines, procured for him by government employees.

During the Cultural Revolution, everyone had to buy a book of his sayings, Quotations from Chairman Mao Zedong, popularly known as “The Little Red Book.” Mao decided that he was entitled to royalties from all the forced book sales, and he became the first millionaire in Communist China.

As explained by a former vice-president of communist Yugoslavia, all communist governments eventually replace the old wealthy class with a new class of reactionary despots. Property that was nationalized in the name of “the people” becomes the property of the most privileged at the top of the inner party, the “all-powerful exploiters and masters.” Milovan Dijilas, New Class: An Analysis of the Communist System 47 (1957). The same point is made in George Orwell’s book Animal Farm (1945).

“The President, Vice President, and all civil officers of the United States shall be removed from office on impeachment for, and conviction of, treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors.” Art. II §4.

The constitutional system of elections makes a president removable by the people every four years. In addition, a president may be removed during his term if he is impeached by the House and then convicted by the Senate. In 1974, President Richard Nixon resigned when facing certain impeachment and conviction because of his crimes, including the coverup of an attempted burglary, directed by Nixon’s staff, of the Democratic National Committee office at the Watergate office complex.

But there was no way to remove Mao, even when, as in the Great Leap Forward or the Cultural Revolution, the majority of the people, and even the majority of the CCP elite, thought that he was leading the nation into ruin. Like a bad Roman Emperor, Mao could only be removed by force.

In 1971, Mao began plotting to get rid of defense minister Lin Biao. Lin’s son began organizing a coup against Mao. The plan was to bomb Mao’s train in September 1971, when he would be returning from a trip to southern China to shore up support from the army generals there for Mao’s plan to remove Lin.

But Mao, knowing he was widely hated, often changed his travel plans at the last minute, as a security precaution. This time, the last-minute change saved his life. Lin Biao and his family tried to flee to Mongolia, dying in a plane crash on September 13, 1971.

“The judicial power of the United States shall be vested in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and establish. The judges, both of the Supreme and inferior courts, shall hold their offices during good behavior, and shall, at stated times, receive for their services a compensation, which shall not be diminished during their continuance in office.” Art. III §1.

“The trial of all crimes, except in cases of impeachment, shall be by jury.” Art. III §3.

“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor; and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.” Amendment VI.

The U.S. Constitution guarantees the right to jury trial, with fair trial procedures, such as the right to counsel, public proceedings, and the right to cross-examine witnesses. Federal judges hold their positions until they choose to retire, and they cannot be removed for political reasons.

Under Mao, “judicial reform” purged judicial officers and ensured that a puppet judiciary would never err on the side of lenience against dissidents. Courts ceased to exist as independent finders of fact. They became administrative processing units for predetermined sentences. Entirely under the thumb of the CCP, judges merely pronounced the severe sentences that CCP officials had already decided. In cases where the law was not clear, judges were required to follow the Central Party line. According to the CCP official newspaper, People’s Daily, the accused were “presumed to be guilty. . . . Giving the accused the benefit of the doubt is a bourgeois weakness.”

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, or abridging the freedom of speech or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” Amendment I.

No government-established religion, and free exercise of religion

As soon as the communists seized power, they began suppressing some religious organizations and bringing the rest under state control. Religious organizations could exist only as entities subordinate to and directed by the CCP. Soon, the government began to attempt to exterminate religion entirely. While atheism was the official communist belief, the party recognized that religion made people harder to control, as the faithful recognized a higher power than the CCP.

Today’s China is little different. Tibetan Buddhists, Uighur Muslims, and Falun Gong face the worst persecution. Christian denominations are allowed to exist only as state-controlled entities.

Mao despised religion. When Tibet’s Dalai Lama visited Mao in Beijing in 1954, Mao told him, “I understand you well. But of course, religion is poison. It has two great defects: It undermines the race, and secondly it retards the progress of the country. Tibet and Mongolia have both been poisoned by it.” Dalai Lama, My Land and My People 117-18 (2006).

Mao always wanted to be the center of attention. He didn’t like the Chinese national anthem, March of the Volunteers, which had been adopted by the CCP in 1949. It had originally been a song for people of all political persuasions who fought the Japanese invasion of China of 1933-45. During the Cultural Revolution, Mao put the national anthem author in prison, where he died. Although Mao did not formally change the national anthem, for almost every occasion that the national anthem would be played, Mao made the state media (the only media) instead play a song about him, The East Is Red.

“The East Is Red (Dongfang hong):
From China comes Mao Zedong.
He strives for the people’s happiness,
Hurrah, he is the people’s great saviour!
Chairman Mao loves the people,
He is our guide to building a new China.
Hurrah, lead us forward!”

For schoolchildren, a soon-to-be pervasive new song was composed in 1966: “Father is dear, mother is dear, But not as dear as Chairman Mao.”

Under German regime of the National Socialist German Workers Party (“Nazi” for short), people were required to say “Heil Hitler” rather than “Good morning” or “Hello.” The same became true with “Long Live Chairman Mao”—literally, “Chairman Mao ten thousand years” (Mao zhuxi wansui). One man was executed for saying that Chairman Mao would not actually live ten thousand years.

With Mao’s blessing, the military (the “People’s Liberation Army,” PLA) began establishing a new religion for China. Starting in the latter part of 1967, most nonwork time was taken up by mandatory nightly assemblies where people had to discuss their personal behavior in light of Mao Zedong Thought. Then came the 1968-69 campaign of “Three Loyalties” and “Four Boundless Loves” that everyone was supposed to feel for Chairman Mao.

Statues and shrines of Mao were erected everywhere. Busts or pictures of Mao were mandatory home religious items.

Although there was good money to be made, painters often declined the opportunity to paint a Mao icon, since the artist would be scrutinized and punished for the slightest inadvertent sign of insufficient veneration.

Upon arising in the morning, everyone had to face their home Mao shrine and “ask for instructions.” The day ended with “reporting back in the evening.” Mao replaced the “kitchen god” of Chinese folk culture. In other aspects Mao was portrayed as the sun god.

Life was structured around Mao and his words. Before every meal, people had to say grace: “Long live Chairman Mao and the Chinese Communist Party.”

Maoist life encompassed the body as well as the mind. Instead of normal sports, the new exercise routine was “quotation gymnastics”—a set of group exercises in which participants shouted Mao quotes related to the motions. For example, in the third set of exercises, the leader would yell “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.” The exercisers would make nine thrusting and stabbing motions with imaginary bayonets.

Even more common were “loyalty dances,” in which individuals or groups stretched their arms to show their “boundless hot love” for Mao, sometimes worshipping him as the sun. The PLA enforcers labeled any nonparticipant in the Mao rites as an “active counterrevolutionary.”

People began reporting miracles such as healing of the sick and attributing them to Mao. Communist temples were erected, based on the historic model of ancestral temples. When buying a Mao item in a store, one could not use the common word for buying, mai; instead one would use the polite verb actress Jiang Qing, previously reserved for the purchase of religious items.

Freedom of speech and freedom of the press

When the communists were fighting to overthrow the Republic, they promised freedom of speech for everyone. As soon the Communists seized power, all nongovernment newspapers were closed.

All radios were confiscated, so no one could hear news from the outside world. The confiscation of radio transmitters ensured that people could not communicate with each other at a distance.

All mail was surveilled, and the contents were put in the secret files that the government kept on everyone.

Once people saw what communist rule was like, many people burned their book collections, because possession of a book—even an apolitical book—that was not based on communist ideology might result in the owner being labeled a “counterrevolutionary” and sent to a slave labor camp.

During the Cultural Revolution, the rage mobs pillaged libraries and burned books in huge outdoor bonfires, reminiscent of similar book burnings in Nazi Germany. The Nazi book burners mainly targeted books by Jewish authors, but Mao’s mobs were more ambitious. Any book that was not communist—such as books of ancient poetry—was put to the torch. Many rare historic manuscripts were destroyed.

Mao’s fourth wife, the former actress Jiang Qing, took a special interest in the performing arts. In China, opera had always been entertainment for the masses (as it was in the United States in the nineteenth century) and not solely for a highly educated audience (as it is in the U.S. today). Madame Mao banned all classical works of performing art. The only works that could be performed were post-1949 “model” pieces of crude communist propaganda. That amounted to five operas, two ballets, and one symphony. In the privacy of her palaces, Madame Mao enjoyed a much broader selection of entertainment, including private screenings of Western movies.

During the Cultural Revolution, simply being educated, or an intellectual, or able to speak a foreign language could be cause enough to be killed, tortured, or put into forced labor.

From about March 1968 to April 1969, even the most mundane conversation had to be centered on Mao. If a peasant walked into a store, the clerk was supposed to say “keep a firm hold on grain and cotton production,” and the peasant would reply “strive for even greater bumper crops.” If the customer was a student, the clerk would say “read Chairman Mao’s books,” and the student would answer “heed Chairman Mao’s words.” As one historian observes, “The Cultural Revolution is perhaps the time in the twentieth century when language was most separated from meaning. . . . If you do not mean what you say, because what you say has no meaning beyond the immediate present, then it is impossible to imbue language with any system of values. . . . This led to the overall moral nullity of the Cultural Revolution during its most manic phase.” Rana Mitter, A Bitter Revolution: China’s Struggle with the Modern World 209 (2004).

Or as George Orwell wrote about a fictional totalitarian government very similar to communism, “The intention was to make speech, and especially speech on any subject not ideologically neutral, as nearly as possible independent of consciousness.” George Orwell, Appendix: The Principles of Newspeak, in 1984 (1990) (1949).

Right to petition the government for redress of grievances

Of course there was no such right in Mao’s China, especially during the Cultural Revolution. Sending the government a critical petition would lead to every signer being imprisoned, tortured, sent to slave labor camp, or executed.

At the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, Wang Rongfen, who was studying German at the Foreign Languages Institute, observed the similarities between Mao’s first Cultural Revolution rally for a crowd at Tiananmen Square and Hitler Nuremberg rallies. She sent Chairman Mao a letter: “the Cultural Revolution is not a mass movement. It is one man with a gun manipulating the people.” He sent her to prison for life. In prison, she was manacled full-time, and the manacles bore points to dig into her flesh. She had to roll on the floor to eat. She was released in 1979, three years after Mao’s death, with her spirit unbroken.

Right of Assembly

The textual right of assembly is related to the implied right of association. As the U.S. Supreme Court has recognized, the right of association is implied by the other First Amendment rights, and is necessary to their exercise.

Under the CCP, no associations could exist except those under government control. No assemblies on political matters were allowed, except those demanded by the government.

But when Premier Zhou Enlai died in January 1976, huge, spontaneous, and unauthorized crowds assembled to mourn him. The crowds considered him relatively less totalitarian and oppressive than Mao. Unlike the Tiananmen rallies of the early Cultural Revolution, which originated from the top down, the crowds that gathered to mourn Zhou expressed people power. “The country had not witnessed such an outpouring of popular sentiment since before the communists came to power in 1949.” Li Zhusui, The Private Life of Chairman Mao 611 (Tai Hung-Chao trans. 1994).

While there were demonstrations at over 200 locations throughout the country, the flashpoint was in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square, which saw the largest spontaneous demonstration ever in China. On April 4, Tomb-Sweeping Day (Qing Ming), a traditional day for honoring one’s ancestors, an immense crowd gathered at the Monument to the People’s Martyrs in Tiananmen Square. Erected in 1959, the monument honored Chinese revolutionary martyrs from 1840 onward.

That night, the Tiananmen assembly was attacked by the Capital Militia Command Post (a/k/a the “Cudgel Corps”). According to one report, it later took hundreds of workers to scrub off all the blood.

“A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” Amendment II.

The Second Amendment ensures that the government will never have a monopoly of force. As Americans knew from recent history in Europe and from ancient history, people who were first disarmed were often tyrannized later.

The Chinese Communist Party was aware of similar lessons of history. In a 1938 speech, Mao explained, “Our principle is that the Party commands the gun, and the gun must never be allowed to command the Party. . . . According to the Marxist theory of the state, the army is the chief component of state power. Whoever wants to seize and retain state power must have a strong army.” Problems of War and Strategy (Nov. 6, 1938).

In 1949, one of the new regime’s “first acts” was “to confiscate weapons.” Jung Chang & Jon Halliday, Mao: The Unknown Story 424 (2005). Homes were inspected to “search for forbidden items, from weapons to radios.” Frank Dikötter, The Tragedy of Liberation: A History of the Chinese Revolution 1945-1957, at 45-46 (2013).

By ensuring that all the people could be armed, the Second Amendment aimed to ensure that the militia would be drawn from all people. If the government were allowed to disarm people, then instead of a general militia of the people, there would be a “select militia” of the government’s favorites and toadies. At the Virginia Convention for ratifying the U.S. Constitution, George Mason had warned that a select militia would “have no fellow-feeling for the people.” (June 14, 1788).

As the U.S. Supreme Court noted, in England, the despotic Stuart kings in the seventeenth century had used “select militias loyal to them to suppress political dissidents, in part by disarming their opponents.” District of Columbia v. Heller, 554 U.S. 570, 592 (2008). Further, said the Court, the Second Amendment was enacted in part to assuage fears that the U.S. government “would disarm the people in order to impose rule through a standing army or select militia.” Id. at 588.

Under Mao, a select militia was the instrument for forcing most of the population into de facto slavery. In the 1958-62 Great Leap Forward, the select militia became the instrument that caused the deaths of over forty million people from famine.

In a nation of over 600 million people, the select militia comprised fewer than 2 percent of the population. Unlike in the American system, militia arms were not personally owned but were usually centrally stored and guarded.

According to a political refugee interviewed in Hong Kong in the 1950s, in a farm commune of 15,000 families, there would be about 1,500 militiamen, chosen from the politically correct, who would have rifles. Of these there was “a further selection of 150 super-reliable men whose rifles are always loaded.” Suzanne Labin, The Anthill: The Human Condition in Communist China 104 (Edward Fitzgerald trans., Praeger 1960) (1st pub. in France as La Condition Humaine en Chine Communiste (1959)). “Otherwise ammunition is kept at a central armoury guarded day and night by special police armed with machine-guns. As an extra precaution the personnel of this guard is changed every two months.” Id. A hundred and fifty always-armed males could control 15,000 families.

“They would turn out to be crucial in enforcing discipline, not only during the frenzy to establish communes, but throughout the years of famine that lay ahead.” Frank Dikötter, Mao’s Great Famine: The History of China’s Most Devastating Catastrophe, 1958-1962, at 182 (2010). “[L]ocal militia were a critical ingredient in the CCP’s consolidation of power in the countryside.” Elizabeth J. Perry, Patrolling the Revolution: Worker Militias, Citizenship, and the Modern Chinese State 182 (2007).

“The militia movement and a small corps of trained fighters brought military organization to every commune. All over China farmers were roused from sleep at dawn at the sound of a bugle and filed into the canteen for a quick bowl of watery rice gruel. Whistles were blown to gather the workforce, which moved in military step to the fields. . . . Party activists, local cadres and the militia enforced discipline, sometimes punishing underachievers with beatings.”

Dikötter, Famine, at 50. “Militiamen spearheaded the countless mobilization campaigns that were the hallmark of Mao’s rule. They enforced universal participation by all members of the factory or village, dragged out or designated targets of struggle [persons targeted for persecution], and monitored mass meetings.” Perry, at 191.

A case study of the remote village of Da Fo, located on the North China Plain, details the operation of the select militia. There, guns had been confiscated in 1951 (later than the general confiscation in 1949, perhaps because of the village’s isolation). Over the course of the war against the Japanese invasion and then the final phase of the civil war (1945-49), the high-quality leaders of the Da Fo communist militia had been moved elsewhere, to positions of greater responsibility. The militiamen left behind were the dregs of society. “Villagers remember them as poorly endowed, uneducated, quick-tempered, perfidious hustlers and ruffians who more often than not operated in an arbitrary and brutal political manner in the name of the Communist Party.” Ralph A. Thaxton, Jr., Catastrophe and Contention in Rural China: Mao’s Great Leap Forward: Famine and the Origins of Righteous Resistance in Da Fo Village 329 (2008).

There were no rules against them exploiting or coercing peasants. To the extent that the national government provided subsidies, the militia took them. The Da Fo militia had 30 guns and kept the crop fields under a four-man armed guard day and night, to prevent peasants from obtaining food.

“The militia was a repressive institution, and Mao needed it to press the countless rural dwellers who were resisting disentitlement by the agents of the people’s commune.” Id. “These men were practically the perfect candidates to tear apart civil society and destroy human purpose. . . . [T]hey had a lot in common with the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, with Ceauşescu’s militias in Transylvania, and with the Janjaweed in the Darfur region of Sudan. In rural China of the late 1950s, as in these other killing field environments, such men were backed by state power.” Id. at 330.

The militia and the communist party cadres carried large sticks they used to beat the peasants. The frontline enforcers were under orders from their superiors to administer frequent beatings, and those who failed to do so were punished. “A vicious circle of repression was created, as ever more relentless beatings were required to get the starving to perform whatever tasks were assigned to them.” Dikötter, Famine, at 299.

Without the select militia, “surely the famine’s death rate would not have been so high.” Thaxton, at 331. Because of the select militia, peasants suffered “socialist colonization, subhuman forms of labor, and starvation.” Id. at 334.


The Chinese Communist army invaded eastern Tibet in 1949 and central Tibet in 1951. At first, they ruled relatively mildly, while they worked hard at building a transportation infrastructure for permanent military occupation. But in 1956, the Chinese announced gun registration, which the Tibetans accurately foresaw as a step towards gun confiscation. In 1957, the CCP demanded that Tibetans surrender all their firearms.

Tibet was a universally armed nation. Every man was expected to have a firearm and be proficient with it. The Tibetan Buddhist monasteries had large arsenals. Even the poorest beggar would at least have a large knife.

As the Dalai Lama later recalled, when he heard about the gun confiscation order, “I knew without being told that a Khamba [Eastern Tibetan] would never surrender his rifle — he would use it first.” Roger Hicks & Ngakpa Chogyam, Great Ocean 102 (1984) (authorized biography).

The historically fractious Tibetan tribes united in a national resistance movement, the Chushi Gangdruk. For a while, they drove the Chinese out of most of Tibet, and liberated hundreds of thousands of square miles.

Yet although the Tibetan volunteers were, man-for-man, vastly superior fighters to the Chinese conscripts, the Chinese eventually wore down the Tibetan resistance through sheer force of numbers, just as centuries before barbarians in Europe had overwhelmed the Roman Empire’s legions.

The Tibetan resistance movement did make it possible for 80,000 Tibetans, including the Dalai Lama, to escape to India and Nepal, where they have kept the Tibetan Buddhist religion alive, free of CCP domination, and have continued to inform the world about the CCP’s colonialism and genocide in Tibet.

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.” Amendment III.

Unlike some of the bad monarchs in England and France, Mao did not force families to let soldiers live in their homes. Rather, Mao forced people to live in soldiers’ homes, as prisoners under constant armed guard.

Starting in the Great Leap Forward, the government seized all farmland and forced people into communal labor. In many communes, families had to leave their homes, live in sex-segregated barracks, and eat in mess halls. Husbands and wives were allowed one short conjugal visit per week. This was consistent with Marxism, which boldly demanded “Abolition of the family!” Karl Marx, Communist Manifesto 24 (Samuel Moore & Friedrich Engels trans. 1888) (1848).

“The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects against unreasonable searches and seizures shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched and the persons or things to be seized.” Amendment IV.

Starting in 1955-56, the CCP ordered that people allow home inspections at any time. This was part of a household registration system that also required people to reside in the registered place permanently, unless they were given government permission to move. People could travel only when issued a permit, had to register when staying somewhere else overnight, had to register their own house guests, and had to report on the content of conversations with guests.

All postal mail could be secretly opened by the government, its contents recorded in the government’s secret files on every person, to accumulate material for potential later use against the writer.

During the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s mobs, the “Red Guards,” searched house-to-house for concealed arms, books, religious items, gold coins, and evidence of disloyalty. If something was found, the victims were tortured. “Every night there were terrifying sounds of loud knocks on the door, objects breaking, students shouting and children crying. But most ordinary people had no idea when the Red Guards would appear, and what harmless possessions might be seen as suspicious. They lived in fear.” Frank Dikötter, The Cultural Revolution: A People’s History, 1962-1976, at 86-90 (2016). Many people pre-emptively destroyed their books and artwork, lest the Red Guards discover them. Ordinary thieves posed as Red Guards to get in on the looting.

“[N]or shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use without just compensation.” Amendment V.

The prohibition of “double jeopardy” means that if a person is tried for alleged crime and acquitted, the government cannot prosecute the same person a second time for the same offense. This was irrelevant under Mao, since persons who were accused were always convicted the first time.

While the Fifth Amendment forbids compelled self-incrimination, self-incrimination was mandatory under Mao. If an arrested person did not confess to whatever crimes she was accused of, she would be tortured until she did.

The Takings Clause means that government must pay compensation when it takes a person’s property. But under Mao, property could be taken at any time. Some people had no property at all. For example, starting with the Great Leap Forward in 1958, the peasants forced to live in barracks on the collective farms were not allowed to own even a spoon.

The communists had won the revolution in part because they had promised to give land to the peasants. The communists did so in the years immediately after the revolution. Then starting in 1958, the land was taken by the government. The peasants were turned into serfs—forbidden to leave the land and forced to labor under armed guard to produce crops, most of which the government would take without compensation.

In the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s rage mobs roamed the streets, attacking women for bourgeoise behavior such as wearing dresses or having long hair. Poor street peddlers, barbers, tailors, and anyone else participating in the non-state economy were attacked and destroyed. Many of them were ruined and became destitute.

“Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.” Amendment VIII.

The system of bail allows a person who has been arrested for crime to be released from jail pending trial, if the person posts a bond to ensure that he will appear in court for trial. Under communism, once a person is arrested, the person may simply “disappear,” never to be seen in public again.

While the Eighth Amendment prohibits torture, torture was a common tool of the Mao regime. Soon after the communists seized power in 1949, their “land reform” program encouraged peasants to torture and then kill small farmers and landlords. If Mao decided that a high-ranking official was now an enemy, he would have the official tortured in front of an assembly of the communist elite.

In the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s rage mobs roamed the streets with leather belts with brass buckles, which they used to beat their targets senseless, often inflicting severe injury. Sometimes the victims were forced to lick their blood up from the street. Any pedestrian could be accosted by Red Guards, ordered to recite quotations from Chairman Mao, and then tortured on the spot for not having memorized enough of them.

The Cultural Revolution also brought a savage campaign of genocide and torture of the minority Mongol population, living in north-central China. Ethnic minorities in other border regions received similar treatment.

A new round of purges began in 1969 and ran through 1971, based on a supposed “May Sixteenth” conspiracy from 1966. This was the date that a circular had announced the creation of the Central Cultural Revolution Group, which would publicly unleash the Cultural Revolution several days later. Supposedly, May 16 was also the debut of a secret plot against Premier Zhou Enlai. Although Zhou was himself a member of the Central Cultural Revolution Group, there were others in the group, including Mao’s wife, who hated him and plotted against him. Whatever the intrigue at the top, the persecution of “May Sixteenth elements” did not target Madame Mao but instead large numbers of people who had no plausible connection to any conspiracy; they were tortured into confessing to having joined a conspiracy that they had never heard of before they were arrested.

Meanwhile, in rural areas, where the Cultural Revolution was less intense, the local militias, aware of all the killing and torture going on in the towns and cities, decided to demonstrate their loyalty by going on their own spontaneous murder and torture sprees.

The victims were not participants in Cultural Revolution politics. Rather, the targets were the “Four Types”—who since 1949 had always been easy targets for attack. These included former landlords, anyone who had owned a small business before the revolution, anyone who was claimed to be a noncommunist, and any “bad element” who had supposedly deviated from the CCP orthodoxy of the moment.

Victims were typically denounced in public show trials that everyone in the village had to attend. Some victims were executed in plain sight to spread terror. Execution methods involved firearms, beating and torturing people to death (always common under Mao), or imaginative procedures, such as marching victims off a cliff.

“The enumeration in the Constitution of certain rights shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people.” Amendment IX.

“The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states respectively, or to the people.” Amendment X.

The U.S. constitutional system is based on the sovereignty of the people. The people delegate some powers to the federal government, via the Constitution. The Ninth Amendment makes it clear that the Bill of Rights is not an exclusive list of the people’s retained rights. The Tenth Amendment affirms that the people and their state governments retain all powers that were not delegated to the federal government.

Under communism, the people have no “retained” rights or “reserved” powers. The omnipotent sovereign is the communist party. Under Maoism, the only purpose of human existence was to serve Mao.

Dave Kopel is Research Director of the Independence Institute; an Adjunct Scholar with the Cato Institute, in Washington; and adjunct Professor of Constitutional Law at the University of Denver’s  Sturm College of Law. His website is He is a regular panelist on Colorado Public Television’s “Colorado Inside Out” and a columnist for the Reason magazine on the Volokh Conspiracy law blog.

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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett

Mao Zedong’s bloody “The Cultural Revolution” led to the violation of life, liberty and property for millions of people. Though Mao claimed this was a revolution to promote communism and purge China of capitalism, it was also a manifestation of the kind of tyrannical faction that James Madison and other Framers of the United States Constitution warned about.

Mao’s Revolution was grounded upon a rejection of the tradition that human beings have natural rights as individuals, substituting instead the idea that people are, can, and should be simply “programmed” to behave as government desires with the right kinds of physical and psychological measures. According to Maoist ideology, human beings have absolutely no natural rights – including the right to life and property – that must be respected.

The American Founders, including Federalists and Anti-federalists, foresaw the kind of unspeakable horrors that could be unleashed when the idea of individual natural rights is rejected and abused by government or powerful leaders. As Anti-federalist Brutus wrote, Americans deeply believed that “all men are by nature free. No one man, therefore, or any class of men, have a right, by the law of nature, or of God, to assume or exercise authority over their fellows…This principle, which seems so evidently founded in the reason and nature of things, is confirmed by universal experience.”

Brutus understood very well that human beings, when entrusted with power, are prone to abuse that authority for their own purposes. “Those who have governed, have been found in all ages ever active to enlarge their powers and abridge the public liberty,” Brutus wrote. “This has induced the people in all countries, where any sense of freedom remained, to fix barriers against the encroachments of their rulers.” Brutus points out that the state constitutions at the time provided many of these “barriers” in the form of “due process of law” as protection for the individual natural rights of citizens.

For the security of life, in criminal prosecutions, the bills of rights of most of the states have declared, that no man shall be held to answer for a crime until he is made fully acquainted with the charge brought against him; he shall not be compelled to accuse, or furnish evidence against himself—the witnesses against him shall be brought face to face, and he shall be fully heard by himself or counsel.

Constitutional barriers also protected the individual natural right to private property. As Brutus writes, “For the purpose of securing the property of the citizens, it is declared by all the states, “that in all controversies at law, respecting property, the ancient mode of trial by jury is one of the best securities of the rights of the people, and ought to remain sacred and inviolable.”[1]

Federalist James Madison also believed that for government to be just it must protect the individual right to private property. In The Federalist No. 10, Madison wrote about how the different kinds and degrees of property people acquire, hold, and use are a reflection of human nature. “The diversity in the faculties of men, from which the rights of property originate,” Madison wrote, makes it difficult, if not impossible, for government to impose by force a universal uniformity of opinion (as Mao had attempted to do in the Cultural Revolution). “The protection of these faculties is the first object of government. From the protection of different and unequal faculties of acquiring property, the possession of different degrees and kinds of property immediately results.”[2]

For James Madison, “property” meant more than just ownership of material things and goods, such as “a man’s land, or merchandize, or money.” In a larger sense, Madison wrote:

[A] man has a property in his opinions and the free communication of them. He has a property of peculiar value in his religious opinions, and in the profession and practice dictated by them. He has a property very dear to him in the safety and liberty of his person. He has an equal property in the free use of his faculties and free choice of the objects on which to employ them. In a word, as a man is said to have a right to his property, he may be equally said to have a property in his rights.[3]

Just as the physical property one owns is acquired through physical labor, the opinions we hold – especially our religious opinions – are the products of the labor of our minds. And Madison, like Thomas Jefferson, believed that the human mind is made free by nature – or, as Jefferson put it, “Almighty God hath created the mind free.”[4] To violate the rights of property in either sense – as Maoist ideologues attempted to do during the Cultural Revolution – is to deny the natural freedom of the human mind.

Anti-federalists and Federalists understood that one of the best means for preventing abuses of natural rights is to find a way to prevent all political power from being held in the same hands. As Brutus wrote, “When great and extraordinary powers are vested in any man, or body of men, which in their exercise, may operate to the oppression of the people, it is of high importance that powerful checks should be formed to prevent the abuse of it.”[5] Federalist James Madison agreed: “The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary, self-appointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny.”[6] As we have discussed in earlier essays, Madison and the Federalists believed that the best way to keep power diffused was to separate powers through a combination of modes of election, qualifications for office, and different terms in office for the various branches of government. All of these constitutional barriers – from mandatory due process of law to the manner in which powers are separated – help to provide checks against the kinds of actions taken by Mao and his Revolutionaries with regard to violations of the individual natural rights of life, liberty, property, and religious liberty, and make the kinds of bloody “purges” of the Cultural Revolution less likely under a well-constructed Constitution.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


[1] Brutus II.

[2] The Federalist No. 10.

[3] James Madison, “Property,” 29 March 1792.

[4] Thomas Jefferson, “A Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom” in Virginia, written 1779, enacted 1786.

[5] Brutus XVI.

[6] The Federalist No. 47.


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Guest Essayist: Chris Burkett

In 1966, Mao Zedong launched what was known as “The Cultural Revolution.” This bloody period in China’s history lasted for more than a decade. Mao’s objective in calling for the revolution was to purge the People’s Republic of China of the bourgeois and capitalist elements that had allegedly infiltrated the government and produced a series of failures and setbacks in the communist nation’s development. In reality, it was an attempt by Mao, who was Chairman of the Communist Party of China, to reclaim social and political control in the country.

Mao created several radical groups to wage war against conservative and traditional groups within China. Groups of “Red Guards” went on the offensive to destroy precious artifacts in an effort to eliminate all memory of traditional Chinese culture. This also included attempts to eliminate all remaining traditional religious belief in the country, as it had been based, to a certain extent, on the idea that religious opinions were private and personal. To accomplish this, many historical and religious sites were destroyed by Mao’s revolutionaries.

Mao also called for the taking of all remaining private property from his “cultural” (i.e., political) enemies. In order to “cleanse the class ranks,” many people were sent to “the countryside” to work in “reeducation camps” (that is, concentration camps far removed from the eyes of people in the larger cities, at which hundreds of thousands – possibly millions – of people were tortured or killed). The Cultural Revolution finally ended with Mao’s death in 1976.

The terrible abuses of natural rights during Mao’s “Cultural Revolution” remind us of the importance of the United States Constitution, which explicitly guarantees the due process of law before anyone can be deprived of life, liberty, or property. The Constitution also enshrines the fundamental idea of individual freedom, perhaps most importantly in the First Amendment’s protection of religious liberty. And the separation of powers, and checks and balances written into the Constitution, make it less likely that any single so-called “Great Leader,” such as Mao, can carry out such brutal schemes of oppression and widespread murder. In the next essay, we will look at the wisdom of the Federalists and Anti-federalists affirming the importance of these ideas.

Christopher C. Burkett is Associate Professor of History and Political Science, and Director of the Ashbrook Scholar Program at Ashland University.


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Guest Essayist: Jeanne McKinney

Reeling in the remarkable victory of breaking free of Britain’s tyranny, America’s leaders had a duty to preserve their hard-won independence. The American Revolution had set about in motion the notion that the “People” should have a voice in their own government, in their own destinies. The idea of individual rights and protection of those rights by a system of laws and guarantees was a breaking, out-of-the-box plan. Never-in-history had a government like that been constructed. The delegates (many who were Founding Fathers) attending the Philadelphia Constitutional Convention of 1787 set about to do that. They wrote the Constitution.

James Madison wrote the document, yet there was input from other Founding Fathers. This patriotic group of leaders included Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. Jefferson had authored the Declaration of Independence, and John Adams put his pen to the Defense of the Constitution of the Government of the United States of America. Patrick Henry provided input supporting the inclusion of the Bill of Rights.

Did any of these delegates want any chance of their America to be overrun by tyranny again? Absolutely not. They were familiar with tyrannical regimes of the past and surely noted their failures. They also had to envision any oppressive absolute power ideologies that the future may usher in.

“Rebellion to tyranny is obedience to God” wrote Thomas Jefferson.

“Tyranny is a constant in human history,” says Walter R. Newell in his book “Tyrants.”

Newell analyzed three forms of it, writes author Peter Leithart.

“Garden Variety” tyrant (most common in ancient history). Men who claim ownership of an entire country to use for “their own pleasure and profit and to advance their own clan and cronies.”

“Reforming tyrant.” These individuals are “unconstrained by law or democracy.” Honor, wealth, and power are their obsession. They act to improve their society by the unobstructed exercise of their unlimited authority. Think Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Nebuchadnezzar, Louis XIV, Napoleon etc… In a position of absolute power, they used violence for specific aims.

“Millenarian tyrant” is Newell’s third class of tyrants, pens Leithart. Here lies modern-day globalists that are fueled to impose an oppressive “millennial blueprint” on the masses in which the individual “will be submerged in the collective and all privilege and alienation will be forever eradicated.” Think Robespierre, Stalin, Hitler, Mao Tse-Tung, Pol Pot, Gaddafi, and modern-day jihadist terrorists.

These types of tyrants are masters of the veil of illusion. They are experts in the craft of propaganda. They appear “to raise up the downtrodden, to end exploitation, to create a society in which men would no longer use their fellow men as tools for their own enrichment or domination,” says Warren H. Carroll in his book, “70 years of the Communist Revolution.”

Just look at fall of democracy in Afghanistan in August 2021. The country now lies under a brutal tyrannical regime. The Taliban promises to eradicate any former law or policy that does not conform to their interpretations of strict religious Sharia law. Their interpretations of Islam are their own, using a religious shroud to justify evil beheadings, the stoning of women, and random executions in front of families. This band of violent insurgents who overran the seat of government in Kabul, claim their death-marked regime is ‘what the people want.’ Now, the Afghan people have no voice. All the news stations in Afghanistan (as of the date of this writing), are under Taliban control for propaganda purposes.

For twenty years, American troops stopped the terrorists’ plans, helping to protect Afghanistan’s form of democracy. Afghan people experienced pockets of freedom like never before. They had a chance to vote, for girls to attend schools, and for their voices to be heard. Now, Afghan citizens live in fear and many in hiding, left behind while the world watched, aghast, as the Taliban executed a lightning -quick campaign towards power. Yes, an unprotected country can be toppled in merely weeks.

Tyrants blind people to the truth of who they are, which is an elite ruling class who holds all the cards. They demand you suppress your own individual interests and limit achievement for the “good of the nation.” “They” know what’s best for you even when it is not.

Hitler’s fascist Germany did not ‘know best.’

Although Hitler had not revealed the full extent of his totalitarian aims before he came to power, as Führer (“Leader”) of the Third Reich, he attempted not only to control all political power but also to dominate many institutions and organizations that were previously independent of the state, such as courts, churches, universities, social clubs, veterans’ groups, sports associations, and youth groups. Even the German family came under assault, as members of the Hitler Youth were told that it was their patriotic duty to inform on anti-Nazi parents. (Britannica)

His government was marked by a radical authoritarian dictatorship, that imposed stringent government controls on the economy and oppressed opposition. Fascists reject free and competitive elections. Instead, Hitler sported an aggressive nationalism to his Nationalist Socialist German Workers’ Party (Nazi) party, poisoned by extreme racism. Yet, Hitler brainwashed followers justifying his evil violence with lies of being a superior race. He created a police state to handle those who opposed; his own countrymen were killed and tortured.

Hitler’s regime conducted the most prolific and inhuman genocide of the Jewish people in history. His raging Anti-Semitism spurred the Holocaust and will forever haunt generations of the earth. Hitler forced his way to absolute power, to become a murderous madman marked by the notorious sign of the swastika. In the end, it all came tumbling down and he fell from Aryan god and fascist king to a shriveling coward hiding in his underground bunker who took his own life.

America’s Founding Fathers emplaced critical safeguards in the governing Constitutional documents preventing any tyrant from using the law of the land to gain absolute power.

The American quest for stability, security, and liberty.

“If you want something you have never had, you must be willing to do something you have never done.” – Thomas Jefferson

Tyranny will never provide stability, because oppressed masses will eventually rebel. As the Founders created the Constitutional structure for a newly formed republic called America, they set about to assure a balance of power in the governance. This helped facilitate a secure and stable system of operating within a framework of laws that ensured individual liberties and rights. The United States Constitution was ratified by 11 of the original states in 1778 and by all 13 original states by 1790. The Bill of Rights was ratified in 1791.

The first three articles establish the three branches of government, Executive, Legislative, and Judicial. Articles four through seven of the Constitution describe the relationship of the states to the Federal Government, establish the Constitution as the supreme law of the land, and define the amendment and ratification processes. (National Archives)

In this 3-part governmental environment – there could be no Hitler without an overthrow of the republic. It could come in the form of a swift coup or the slow, but steady integration of oppressive ideologies. Our Founders knew well the feel of imperialism, yet had not experienced socialism, communism, fascism, or radical Sharia law. They were inspired, forward-thinking men in revolutionary times, out to eradicate tyranny in any form to occupy their land of inheritance.

Modern-day socialists and communists set out to break and degrade the laws of the republic nation, one by one. Those who decry the Constitution as invalid or outdated are traitors and enemies of America. The concept of freedom will never be outdated.

The Constitution: A steely defense against tyranny.

Anyone with a mind to implant tyranny over the American people will hit a military wall trying to do away with or overthrow the Constitution…American men and women who wear the uniform and go to war swear an oath to protect and defend the revered United States document.

The Oath of Enlistment (for enlisted):

“I, _____, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

The President of the United States swears an oath to “preserve, protect, and defend” the Constitution, which is the solid foundation our government stands upon. Members of Congress are similarly bound to uphold the Constitution. Yet, we see it happening every day, as “factions” threaten the early delegates’ great plan for a free self-governing people.

James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and John Jay wrote the Federalist papers, a collection of 85 articles and essays to promote the ratification of the United States Constitution. In #10 of the Federalist papers, Madison discussed the “factions” that pose a threat to a republic.

Factions, Madison explained, are groups “united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community.” Factions out for political power put their own interests first, not the common good.

Then Madison acknowledged that “the public good is often decided, not according to the rules of justice and the rights of the minor party, but by the superior force of an interested and overbearing majority.”

Failed regimes remind and warn. 

According to Hitler, democracy undermined the natural selection of ruling elites and was “nothing other than the systematic cultivation of human failure.” Joseph Goebbels, Hitler’s minister of propaganda, maintained that the people never rule themselves and claimed that every history-making epoch had been created by aristocrats. (Britannica)

America denounces Goebbels’ obvious lie with 232 years of an enduring constitutional republic creating a nation others look up to and many try to copy.

An enduring question for Americans is this: How do we protect ourselves from tyranny?

These wayward political pundits ignore the failures of the Fascists, Communists, Marxists, or radical Islamists that have tried to conquer the world. It is vital to fix Congress to restore the Founders’ ideal of a republican government. We must stop the crushing of individual exceptionalism and the degradation of guaranteed rights and protections. There must be a halt to anti-constitutional propaganda, and violators of constitutional law must be prosecuted.

What all tyrants of history fail to recognize is the power of the human will. Individual will is given by God to all mankind to make his own choices. Our wills do not savor being suppressed by others who sit on thrones, the Oval Office, or Congress who think they ‘know best’ for everyone and peddle ‘sameness.’ For that alone, the writers of the Constitution have adhered to the designs of God. They gave the American people the opportunities to grow the individual, to expand great potential, to gain knowledge, and to magnify the human experience.

Freedom can only exist in a framework of laws that supports it. The Constitution, if followed, will continue to prove itself on the world stage to survive the attacks of tyranny, which continue to threaten.

Jeanne McKinney is an award-winning writer whose focus and passion is our United States active-duty military members and military news. Her Patriot Profiles offer an inside look at the amazing active-duty men and women in all Armed Services, including U.S. Marine Corps, Navy, Army, Air Force, Coast Guard, and National Guard. Reporting includes first-hand accounts of combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan, the fight against violent terror groups, global defense, tactical training and readiness, humanitarian and disaster relief assistance, next-generation defense technology, family survival at home, U.S. port and border protection and illegal immigration, women in combat, honoring the Fallen, Wounded Warriors, Military Working Dogs, Crisis Response, and much more. Starting in 2012, McKinney has won multiple San Diego Press Club “Excellence in Journalism Awards,” including eight “First Place” honors, as well as multiple second and third place recognition for her Patriot Profiles published printed articles. Including awards for Patriot Profiles military films. During the year 2020, McKinney has written and published dozens of investigative articles in her ongoing fight to preserve America the Republic, the Constitution, and its laws. One such story was selected for use in a legal brief in the national fight for 2020 election integrity.


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Guest Essayist: Winfield H. Rose

Thanks to the grace of God, the United States is descended from the English political tradition. The last verse of Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken” comes to mind: “I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” This applies to countries as well as people, and here the two roads are absolute monarchy and constitutional monarchy.

England chose the less-traveled road of constitutional monarchy and “that has made all the difference.” This goes back to the Magna Carta of 1215, the accession of King James I in 1603, the Mayflower Compact of 1620, the English Civil War of 1640-1649, the regicide of King Charles I in 1649, the Glorious Revolution of 1688 and the English Bill of Rights of 1689. In the midst of these very important events was the founding of Virginia, the first permanent English colony in the New World, in 1607, and then Plymouth colony in 1620, eventually to be followed by the other eleven.

These events have in common these principles: (1) the power of the king or government is not absolute but subject to law; and (2) the legislature is the law-making body of the realm and holds the power of the purse.

Fearing for his life, King James II fled to France in December, 1685 whereupon Parliament declared an abdication, that is, the throne was vacant. Parliament then functioned as a constitutional convention by drafting and adopting the English Bill of Rights of 1689 and inviting Mary, the elder daughter of James II, and her Dutch husband William of Orange to assume the throne as joint monarchs subject to the conditions stipulated in the Bill of Rights. Mary and William agreed and did so. This is called the Glorious Revolution, and indeed it was glorious because at this time England became a constitutional rather than an absolute monarchy.

Accordingly, the English government henceforth was divided into three interlocking, interdependent parts: the Crown, the Lords Temporal and Spiritual, and the people represented by the House of Commons.

Charles de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu was a wealthy, intelligent and energetic Frenchman born near Bordeaux on January 18, 1689 during the reign of Louis XIV and at the very time the Glorious Revolution was unfolding in England. In 1728 he left France to travel abroad. After visiting Italy, Germany, Austria, and other countries, he went to England, where he lived for two years and was greatly impressed with the English political system.

After his return to France in 1731 he began work on his masterpiece, The Spirit of the Laws, one of the most important and best-known works ever written on political philosophy, published in 1748. This book is a comparative study of three types of government: republic, monarchy and despotism, and it is clear he detested despotism.

Montesquieu’s Book XI is titled “Of the Laws Which Establish Political Liberty With Regard to the Constitution” and reads, in part, as follows: “ . . . constant experience shows us that every man invested with power is apt to abuse it,  . . . To prevent this abuse, it is necessary … that power should be a check to power. . . . When the legislative and executive powers are united in the same person, or in the same body of magistrates, there can be no liberty; because apprehensions may arise, lest the same monarch or senate should enact tyrannical laws, to execute them in a tyrannical manner.

“Again, there is no liberty, if the judiciary power be not separated from the legislative and executive. Were it joined with the legislative, the life and liberty of the subject would be subject to arbitrary control; for the judge would be then the legislator. Were it joined with the executive power, the judge might behave with violence and oppression.

“There would be an end to everything, were the same man or the same body, whether of the nobles or of the people, to exercise those three powers, that of enacting laws, that of executing the public resolutions, and of trying the causes of individuals.” (emphasis added)

It should be clear, then, that, while John Locke was the intellectual father of the Declaration of Independence, Montesquieu was the intellectual father of the United States Constitution. The twin principles of separation of powers and checks and balances permeate it from beginning to end. This includes not only the national government itself but all the state governments and the principle of federalism which defines the relationships between them.

In the 47th Federalist Madison says, “The oracle who is always consulted and cited on this subject is the celebrated Montesquieu. If he be not the author of this invaluable precept in the science of politics, he has the merit at least of displaying and recommending it most effectually to the attention of mankind.”

Madison fully develops the idea in his 51st Federalist: “ . . . the great security against a gradual concentration of the several powers in the same department, consists in giving to those who administer each department the necessary constitutional means and personal motives to resist encroachments of the others. The provision for defense must in this, as in all other cases, be made commensurate to the danger of attack. Ambition must be made to counteract ambition. The interest of the man must be connected with the constitutional rights of the place. It may be a reflection on human nature, that such devices should be necessary to control the abuses of government. But what is government itself, but the greatest of all reflections on human nature? If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself.  . . . This policy of supplying, by opposite and rival interests, the defect of better motives, might be traced through the whole system of human affairs, private as well as public.” (emphasis added)

The economic situations in the United States and Germany in the early 1930s were uncomfortably similar while the political situations were, though similar in certain respects, different in others. Both countries were suffering from an economic depression with high unemployment and high inflation, plus the hopelessness and despair that went with them. Germany was alienated not only from its administration in office but also from its entire political system, and there was much unrest.

The American people were substantially alienated from their administration in office but not from their entire political system. It was, however, on trial. There was no guarantee it would survive. No one knows what might have happened if Franklin Roosevelt had not been elected in 1932 but he was elected and, as Washington was not Napoleon,  Roosevelt was not Hitler.

There were several important differences between the United States and Germany at this time. One was that the American political system based on Montesquieu’s principles of separation of powers and checks and balances had been in operation for 140 years and had solidified into a strong tradition. Those holding positions in the three branches were dedicated to those principles and  that tradition and were not egomaniacs interested in one-man rule.

We remained on the road less traveled, thank God, but Germany did not. Their tradition was authoritarian, one-man rule and they reverted to it—and made it infinitely worse and more evil—on January 30, 1933, when Hitler took power. Ideas and traditions matter.

Winfield H. Rose, Ph.D., is Distinguished Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Murray State University.


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Guest Essayist: Winfield H. Rose

How the catastrophe of Nazism occurred in Germany remains a question for the ages. It had no single cause, but resulted from a unique conjunction of traditions, events and personalities.

Christianity had existed in Germany for centuries. The Germans had a great civilization based on literature, philosophy, architecture, music and science. But they also had a strong military/warrior tradition going back at least to the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest in 9 A.D. This slaughter of Roman troops was one of the worst military defeats Rome ever suffered and established the Germans as fierce fighters.

The Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648) following the Protestant Reformation caused great loss of life and virtually destroyed Germany. Two centuries were needed for Germany to recover. A great tragedy of this period is the discrediting of European Christianity. Protestants and Catholics did not come to love and respect one another as brothers and sisters in Christ.  After killing each other by the thousands, they decided Christianity and its values were no longer relevant and cast them aside. This was facilitated during the next two centuries by the emigration of many German Christians to the United States, thereby making the remaining population less religious and more secular.

As bad as the religious wars of the 17th century were, England and France retained their national identities whereas Germany did not. For two centuries the national identity of Germany was, at best, unclear and, at worst, lost – except in the minds of two men, one a politician and one a musician. Richard Wagner the musician was born in 1813 and Otto von Bismarck the politician was born in 1815 while the Congress of Vienna was meeting. Both desired German restoration and worked to achieve it.

Three short, successful wars under “iron” Chancellor Bismarck in the 1860s and 1870s enabled him to unite Germany politically and found the autocratic Second Reich in 1871 under Kaiser Wilhelm I. After Bismarck’s dismissal and death, it became even more autocratic under Kaiser Wilhelm II.

Thus, in contrast to France, Britain and the United States, there was no democratic tradition in Germany. German culture included an extreme deference to authority and to authority figures. When Adolph Hitler (1889-1945) established his own one-man rule, Germans were used to it.

The 19th century saw the wars of the charismatic conqueror Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821), the philosophers Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831), Karl Marx (1818-1883) and Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), and the composer Richard Wagner who died in 1883. All these except Marx, who was so radical he was expelled from the country, contributed to the strange mix that was to become National Socialism.

Hegel used the term “alienation” to describe a profound disconnect between what we see as real and what we desire as ideal and wish to be real. The greater the disconnect (dissonance, difference), the greater the alienation. It includes unhappiness, sorrow, grief, depression, anger, rage and, very importantly, a compulsion to seek remediation.

To remedy alienation, Hegel exalted the state over the individual and glorified Germanic civilization as the culmination of history, thereby advancing the secularization of society and encouraging and solidifying the natural human ethnocentrism and racism of the German people.

One could say Wagner took up where Hegel left off. Wagner’s musical dramas are set in a mythical, distant and glorious past which has been lost and begs to be restored. What Bismarck did politically, Wagner did culturally – and that was to create a German state (Reich) for Germans.

Nietzsche’s part in this tragic progression was the ideas of “transvaluation of values,” “beyond good and evil,” “God is dead” and “Superman.” The first three terms jointly mean the rejection of Judeo-Christian and Greco-Roman (Western) civilization and values, the rejection of divine and natural law and the redefinition of good and evil (evil is good and good is evil).

Nietzsche differed from Hegel in that, while Hegel thought German civilization was the best possible and the best ever seen, Nietzsche regarded it with scorn and contempt, calling it a “supreme abortion (miscarriage)” which needed to be replaced with a master race of Ubermenschen or “Supermen” who would be as superior to present humans as present humans were to apes. Thus, Nietzsche removed the moral and ethical restraints of civilization and thereby enabled the German people to descend into barbarism in pursuit of mythical glory.

It cannot be determined exactly how much of this history and philosophy Hitler actually knew and understood, but it is safe to say he grasped the basics. Nietzsche had a younger sister who set up a small museum in his memory. There is a picture of Hitler visiting that museum and admiring a bust of Nietzsche (Dagobert D. Runes, Pictorial History of Philosophy, New York: Philosophical Library, 1959, p. 301). It is well known that Wagner was Hitler’s favorite composer and that he frequently played Wagner’s music on a phonograph. Wagner was intensely anti-Semitic and did not accept Jews as true Germans; neither did Hitler, as is well known.  Add to this the popularity of eugenics and social Darwinism and you have a very toxic civic culture.

World War I and its aftermath put the final pieces in place for the rise of Hitler. Hitler himself served in the war and was wounded. He was obsessed with Germany’s defeat and restoration.

The abdication of the Kaiser required by President Woodrow Wilson created a severe leadership vacuum in Germany. The Allied wartime blockade of Germany’s North Sea ports was continued to June 1919, thus disrupting spring planting and worsening Germany’s already dire famine.

The Treaty of Versailles was a disaster. Germany was not allowed to participate and the war guilt and reparations clauses were especially onerous, thereby giving Hitler rallying cries of which he later made extensive use. At its signing, French Marshal Ferdinand Foch said, “This is not peace. It is an armistice for 20 years.” He missed it by three months.  The Weimar Republic which followed and its constitution were seen as imposed by foreign powers and therefore illegitimate.

Inflation was severe. It was said that, before the war, you took your money to shop in a purse and brought your goods home in a wagon but, after the war, you took your money in a wagon and brought your goods home in a purse. The significance of the postwar German economic collapse cannot be overstated.

Hitler exploited the economic collapse of the 1920s but was also “lucky,” if that’s the right word, insofar that there was a model leader in nearby Italy who, according to the conventional wisdom of the day, was showing the world how the postwar European catastrophe could be overcome.  That leader was “Il Duce,” Benito Mussolini, who came to power in 1922 and became Hitler’s prototype autocrat.

The failed “Beer Hall Putsch” of 1923 provided another stroke of luck for Hitler. While he could have been incapacitated or executed, he was imprisoned only for a few months, a short time but long enough to dictate Mein Kampf.

Yet the most vile aspect of Hitler’s reign was his scapegoating of, German Jews. Human beings are always tempted to avoid accepting responsibility for our failures; they are always, people tend to think, the fault of someone else. And Hitler was the worst temptation. Jews and anti-Semitism had existed in Europe for centuries. They had been blamed for outbreaks of the plague and other calamities, so why not, Hitler thought, blame them for Germany’s present troubles?

Finally, Hitler had great oratorical ability and used it to bring all these factors together into the mass movement known as National Socialism (Nazism). Germany had fallen apart and saw itself as the ravished victim of evil forces. Hitler offered change, hope, order, prosperity and restoration. The German people were quick to climb on board but, to their eternal grief and shame, eventually learned they had made a Faustian bargain with the devil. Their slogan was “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Fuehrer,” one people, one empire, one leader, but what they got was defeat, destruction and everlasting infamy.

Winfield H. Rose, Ph.D., is Distinguished Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Murray State University.

Guest Essayist: Andrew Langer

We are going to assemble the best thought and broadest knowledge from all over the world to find these answers. I intend to establish working groups to prepare a series of conferences and meetings — on the cities, on natural beauty, on the quality of education, and on other emerging challenges. From these studies, we will begin to set our course toward the Great Society. – President Lyndon Baines Johnson, Ann Arbor, MI, May 22, 1964

In America in 1964, the seeds of the later discontent of the 1960s were being planted. The nation had just suffered an horrific assassination of an enormously charismatic president, John F. Kennedy, we were in the midst of an intense national conversation on race and civil rights, and we were just starting to get mired in a military conflict in Southeast Asia.

We were also getting into a presidential election, and while tackling poverty in America wasn’t a centerpiece, President Johnson started giving a series of speeches talking about transforming the United States into a “Great Society”—a concept that was going to be the most-massive series of social welfare reforms since Franklin Roosevelt’s post-depression “New Deal” of the 1930s.

In that time, there was serious debate over whether the federal government even had the power to engage in what had, traditionally, been state-level social support work—or, previously, private charitable work. The debate centered around the Constitution’s “general welfare” clause, the actionable part of the United States Constitution building on the Preamble’s “promote the general welfare” language, saying in Article I, Section 8, Clause 1 that, “The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States;” (emphasis added)

Proponents of an increased federal role in social service spending have argued that “welfare” for this purpose means just what politicians today proffer that it does: that “welfare” means social service spending, and that because the Constitution grants Congress this power, such power is expansive (if not unlimited).

But this flies in the face of the whole concept of the Constitution itself—which is the idea of a federal government of limited, carefully-enumerated powers. The Founders were skeptical of powerful, centralized government (and had fought a revolution over that very point), and the debate of just how powerful, how centralized was at the core of the Constitutional Convention’s debates.

Constitutional author (and later president) James Madison said this in Federalist 41:

It has been urged and echoed, that the power “to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises, to pay the debts, and provide for the common defense and general welfare of the United States,’’ amounts to an unlimited commission to exercise every power which may be alleged to be necessary for the common defense or general welfare. No stronger proof could be given of the distress under which these writers labor for objections, than their stooping to such a misconstruction. Had no other enumeration or definition of the powers of the Congress been found in the Constitution, than the general expressions just cited, the authors of the objection might have had some color for it; though it would have been difficult to find a reason for so awkward a form of describing an authority to legislate in all possible cases.

In 1831, he also said, more plainly:

With respect to the words “general welfare,” I have always regarded them as qualified by the detail of powers connected with them. To take them in a literal and unlimited sense would be a metamorphosis of the Constitution into a character which there is a host of proofs was not contemplated by its creators.

This was, essentially, the interpretation of the clause that stood for nearly 150 years—only to be largely gutted in the wake of FDR’s New Deal programs. As discussed in the essay on FDR’s first 100 days, there was great back and forth within the Supreme Court over the constitutionality of the New Deal—with certain members of the court eventually apparently succumbing to the pressure of a proposed plan to “stack” the Supreme Court with newer, younger members.

A series of cases, starting with United States v. Butler (1936) and then Helvering v. Davis (1937), essentially ruled that Congress’ power to spend was non-reviewable by the Supreme Court… that there could be no constitutional challenge to spending plans, that if Congress said a spending plan was to “promote the general welfare” then that’s what it was.

Madison was right to be fearful—when taken into the context of an expansive interpretation of the Commerce Clause, it gives the federal government near-unlimited power. Either something is subject to federal regulation because it is an “item in or related to commerce” or it is subject to federal spending because it “promotes the general welfare.”

Building on this, LBJ moved forward with the Great Society in 1964, creating a series of massive spending and federal regulatory programs whose goal was to eliminate poverty and bring greater equity in social service programs.

Problematically, LBJ formed a series of “task forces” to craft these policies—admittedly because he didn’t want public input or scrutiny that would lead to criticism of the work his administration was doing.

Normally, when the executive branch engages in policymaking, those policies are governed by a series of rules aimed at ensuring public participation—both so that the public can offer their ideas at possible solutions, but also to ensure that the government isn’t abusing its powers.

Here, the Johnson administration did no such thing—creating, essentially, a perfect storm of problematic policymaking: a massive upheaval of government policy, coupled with massive spending proposals, coupled with little public scrutiny.

Had they allowed for greater public input, someone might have pointed out what the Founders knew: that there was a reason such social support has traditionally been either the purview of local governance or private charity, that such programs are much more effective when they are locally-driven and/or community based. Local services work because they better understand the challenges their local communities face.

And private charities provide more effective services because they not only have a vested interest in the outcomes, that vested interest is driven by building relationships centered around faith and hope. If government programs are impersonal, government programs whose management is far removed from the local communities is far worse.

The end result is twofold:  faceless entitlement bureaucracies whose only incentive is self-perpetuation (not solving problems), and people who have little incentive to move themselves off of these programs.

Thus, Johnson’s Great Society was a massive failure. Not only did it not end poverty, it resulted in a devastating perpetual cycle of it. Enormous bureaucratic programs which still exist today—and which, despite pressures at various points in time (the work of President Bill Clinton and the GOP-led Congress after the 1994 election at reforming the nation’s welfare programs as one example), seem largely resistant to change or improvement.

The Founders knew that local and private charity did a better job at promoting “the general welfare” of a community than a federal program would. They knew the dangers of expansive government spending and the power that would accrue with it. Once again, as Justice Sandra Day O’Connor said in New York v. United States (1992), the “Constitution protects us from our own best intentions.”

Andrew Langer is President of the Institute for Liberty, as well as Chairman and Founder of the Institute for Regulatory Analysis and Engagement. IFL is a non-profit advocacy organization focused on advancing free-market and limited government principles into public policy at all levels. IRAE is a non-profit academic and activist organization whose mission is to examine regulations and regulatory proposals, assess their economic and societal impacts, and offer expert commentary in order to create better public policies. Andrew has been involved in free-market and limited-government causes for more than 25 years, has testified before Congress nearly two dozen times, spoken to audiences across the United States, and has taught at the collegiate level.

A globally-recognized expert on the impact of regulation on business, Andrew is regularly called on to offer innovative solutions to the challenges of squaring public policy priorities with the impact and efficacy of those policies, as well as their unintended consequences. Prior to becoming President of IFL and founding IRAE, he was the principal regulatory affairs lobbyist for the National Federation of Independent Business, the nation’s largest small business association. As President of the Institute for Liberty, he became recognized as an expert on the Constitution, especially issues surrounding private property rights, free speech, abuse of power, and the concentration of power in the federal executive branch.

Andrew has had an extensive career in media—having appeared on television programs around the world. From 2017 to 2021, he hosted a highly-rated weekly program on WBAL NewsRadio 1090 in Baltimore (as well as serving as their principal fill-in host from 2011 until 2021), and has filled in for both nationally-syndicated and satellite radio programs. He also created and hosted several different podcasts—currently hosting Andrew and Jerry Save The World, with long-time colleague, Jerry Rogers.

He holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration from Troy University and his degree from William & Mary is in International Relations.


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Guest Essayist: Patrick Garry

Numerous economic downturns and crises plagued America during the first one hundred fifty years of its existence. The nineteenth century witnessed repeated depressions. Undoubtedly, the Great Depression of the 1930s amounted to the most severe economic crisis ever experienced in the United States. As with all previous crises, however, the country recovered from the Great Depression and lifted the rest of the world into an age of greater prosperity.

Economically, America has transcended the Great Depression, and did so relatively quickly. Constitutionally and politically, however, the Great Depression still haunts the United States. This haunting legacy arose because of actions the federal government took in response to the world-wide economic events of the 1930s. The New Deal agenda pushed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt and his Democratic Party permanently changed the nature and role of the federal government, as well as the public’s expectations and demands on that government.

Contrary to one hundred and fifty years of political and constitutional experience, the New Dealers decided to combat the Great Depression by concentrating huge amounts of power within the executive branch of the federal government, leading to the bureaucratic behemoth that now characterizes the administrative state. This administrative state has produced a government in which individual citizens have little voice or control, thereby leaving that government with little accountability to the public. The administrative state has produced staggering, incomprehensible deficits that will at some point leave some future generation with an insurmountable burden. Because of its size, its distance from individual citizens, and its unaccountable bureaucrats, the administrative state has also spawned a deepening culture of political corruption within the federal government. None of these occurrences, however, would have surprised the constitutional Framers, who tried very diligently to protect against such occurrences.

The United States Constitution was a unique document. It created an exceptional form of government, unknown in the rest of the world at that time. Among its many exceptional features, one of the most important was its power-limiting feature. Although the Constitution established a strong national government, it also imposed an array of limitations on that power to prevent the federal government from becoming so strong that it could threaten the liberty of its citizens. As the Framers foresaw, a government without adequate controls could easily accumulate the kind of power that would then insulate that government from public accountability, providing the conditions rife for corruption and abuses.

Three characteristics of the U.S. Constitution that would later be ignored and even contradicted by the New Deal promoters are: first, the Constitution’s enumerated power scheme, in which only the powers specifically outlined in the Constitution are granted to the federal government; second, the separation of powers scheme, in which the power of each branch of the government – e.g., executive, legislative and judicial – is checked by the other branches; and third, the federalism scheme of the Constitution, in which the power of the federal government is limited by the role and power of the states. By concentrating unprecedented powers in the federal executive branch, the New Deal violated the federalism and the separation of powers dictates of the Constitution. And by giving to that newly empowered central government new and unprecedented authority over subject areas not enumerated in the constitutional delegation to the federal government, the New Deal violated the enumerated powers scheme of the Constitution.

Not only did this constitutional contradiction swell the size and power of the federal government beyond the wise forecasts of the Framers, it also restricted then the vibrancy of self-government in the United States. As the Framers foresaw, self-government thrives when the public engages in its government and actively directs that government. But as the Framers also foresaw, such engagement requires accountability – and accountability is best achieved when government is closer and more open to the public. This closeness and openness characterize state and local governments, but it was just those governments that the New Deal restrained by giving such vast powers and authority to the federal government.

Many of the problems with the federal government today would never occur in families or small business or state or local governments. That is because in those venues there is a greater transparency and accountability. While there might be corruption in state governments, it is nowhere near the scale of corruption at the federal level. The Framers knew this; and therefore to save the federal government from itself, the Framers imposed limitations on the power of that government, because the Framers knew the temptations for excess and abuse that would be created by unlimited power.

The Great Society programs of the 1960s and 1970s replicated the New Deal arguments for more power to be concentrated in the federal executive branch. And not surprisingly, many of the Great Society programs have descended into corruption and waste. The federalism revolution waged by the Supreme Court in the 1990s tried to revive the Constitution’s limited government scheme. Even President Bill Clinton in 1996 admitted that “the era of big government was over.” However, with the 2008 recession, the Affordable Care Act and the covid pandemic, big government came roaring back with a vengeance. Whether this unintended turn in America’s constitutional history can be meaningfully addressed, whether a lasting reform of the New Deal and Great Society distortions of constitutional structure power can be achieved will depend on America’s lasting commitment and embrace of the Framers’ wisdom.

 Patrick Garry is professor of law at the University of South Dakota and is the author of Limited Government and the Bill of Rights and The False Promise of Big Government: How Washington Helps the Rich and Hurts the Poor.


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Guest Essayist: Tony Williams

The average government textbook explains that the American constitutional order has three branches of government: legislative, executive, and judicial which make up the reason for the three branches of government in the foundational principle of separation of powers. Drawing on Enlightenment thinker, Montesquieu, James Madison wrote in Federalist #51 that it was “admitted on all hands to be essential to the preservation of liberty, it is evident that each department should have a will of its own.”

The Founders feared that tyranny would result when the separation of powers was violated and one branch of government became too powerful.  “The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary, in the same hands… may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny.” Scholars have used the terms imperial presidency, imperial judiciary, and imperial Congress to describe a dangerous accumulation of power in one of the branches.

All of this constitutional analysis should remind us that an unofficial fourth branch of government—the administrative state, or simply, the bureaucracy—amassed an incredible amount of regulatory power throughout the course of the twentieth century and into this century. Indeed, if one were to examine a chart of all the regulatory agencies, it would be hard to find an area of American daily life that is not regulated in dozens of ways throughout the day.

The reason for the regulatory agencies makes a certain amount of sense in an advanced industrial society and economy. All Americans want to fly in safe airplanes, drink clean water, and know what they are eating.

The administrative state began in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century with similarly good intentions. Corruption was rife as trusts had undue influence in Congress and the state legislatures. Reformers wanted to create more non-partisan governance with the creation of a civil service freer from the spoils system of the two parties.

Most importantly, the progressives at the turn of the century sought to change the nature of American government from the Founders. Legislative politics and the separation of powers principle, they believed, was too messy and often an impediment to regulating an advanced industrial economy. They wanted rule by objective administrative experts who would apply their academic and scientific expertise for rational, efficient government resulting in progress and an ordered society.

The result was a great expansion of the administrative state. The Interstate Commerce Commission, Food and Drug Administration, and the Federal Trade Commission were only some of the executive agencies that Congress created to regulate and rationalize the economy and society during the Progressive Era. President Woodrow Wilson and Congress continued this trend during World War I with several wartime agencies to manage mobilization efficiently.

The New Deal in the 1930s saw a dramatic increase in regulatory power of the federal government. Among these were numerous executive agencies Congress established during the Great Depression to achieve FDR’s goals of relief, recovery, and reform. These were consistent with the progressive vision of rational and orderly rule by experts. The Federal Communications Commission, National Labor Relations Board, and the Securities & Exchange Commission were only some of the agencies comprising the New Deal administrative state.

The Supreme Court initially thought the administrative state was running amok. In Schechter v. U.S. (1935), the Court ruled that the National Industrial Recovery Act was unconstitutional in part because Congress had delegated too much authority to the executive branch and violated the separation of powers. However, FDR appointed several justices to the Supreme Court, and it soon endorsed the administrative state for decades. In the 1984 Chevron decision, the Court went so far as to assert that courts should defer to administrative agencies interpreting their powers in congressional laws.

During the 1960s and 1970s, the Great Society and administration of President Richard Nixon created more executive agencies to regulate additional parts of the economy and society. The bureaucracy was greatly expanded with a wide variety of anti-poverty agencies and environmental agencies such as the Environmental Protection Agency. The administrative state became so large and powerful that one of the factors in the rise of the modern conservative movement culminating in the ascension of Ronald Reagan to the presidency was the promise of cutting the size of the federal government and thus the bureaucracy.

The rise of the bureaucratic administrative state was problematic for a number of reasons. First, it dramatically increased the scale and scope of federal government well beyond that envisioned by the Founders. Second, it substituted rule by the people and their representatives in Congress for rule by unelected experts in the executive branches. Third, at times, administrative agencies were allowed to set their own rules, enforce them, and decide and rule on disputes thereby amassing the power of all three branches of government.

James Madison and the Framers of the United States Constitution were right to separate the powers of America’s government into three branches. They understood that an accumulation of too much power in a single body would endanger liberty and republican government by violating the principle of a separation of powers as an important check on human nature.

Tony Williams is a Senior Fellow at the Bill of Rights Institute and is the author of six books including Washington and Hamilton: The Alliance that Forged America, with Stephen Knott. Williams is currently writing a book on the Declaration of Independence.



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Guest Essayist: Gary Porter
Pres. Theodore Roosevelt in 1904. He influenced Pres. Woodrow Wilson & other progressives to follow. All three 1912 Democratic presidential election candidates claimed to be progressives.

At a Townhall meeting in Hayward, California in 2010, then Congressman Peter Stark conceded: “Yes, the Federal government can do most anything in this country.” This statement would be shocking news to the likes of James Madison, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, even “big government” Alexander Hamilton. A government which can “do most anything” is certainly not the government the Framers tried to create in 1787. If Congressman Stark was right, the “limited and enumerated powers” government that Madison believed they had designed no longer existed. If a limited government no longer exists in the United States, there has to be a reason, a cause for such a dramatic change.

The cause, in one word, is “progressivism.” Progressives have worked diligently, mostly quietly, to bring us to the point where “the Federal government can do most anything in this country,” and particularly where the federal court system is willing to elevate the progressive political agenda to the status of constitutional law.

This is not intended to be a comprehensive essay on progressivism, books, books and more books are devoted to that subject; but to proceed we must have a common understanding of what progressivism is and what progressives believe with which to compare to the principles of the United States Constitution.

prə-grĕs′ĭ-vĭz″əm, noun, “A political ideology that favours progress towards better conditions in society.”[i]  “As a political movement, progressivism purports to advance the human condition through social reform based on advancements in science, technology, economic development and social organization.”[ii]

Who doesn’t want to better the human condition? to improve our standard of living? Who would object to such a lofty goal? If that is the goal, how does a society work toward bettering its social, economic and humanitarian conditions? “The devil’s in the details.”

“In the United States, progressivism began as an intellectual rebellion against the political philosophy of Constitutionalism as expressed by John Locke and the Founders of the American Republic, whereby the authority of government depends on observing limitations on its just powers. What began as a social movement in the 1880s[iii], grew into a popular political movement referred to as the Progressive era; in the 1912 United States presidential election, all three U.S. presidential candidates claimed to be progressives.”[iv]

The winning progressive of the 1912 presidential election, Woodrow Wilson, is credited with coining the phrase “Living Constitution,” which holds that the Constitution must be reinterpreted frequently to keep it “relevant” to modern times. But to fully understand progressivism’s effect on the presidency, we must go back to America’s first acknowledged progressive President: Theodore Roosevelt.[v] Roosevelt’s approach to presidential power was that“[t]he executive power [is] limited only by specific restrictions and prohibitions appearing in the Constitution or imposed by Congress under it constitutional powers.”[vi] In other words, there are no limitations to presidential power except those specifically mentioned in the Constitution or acts of Congress. To Roosevelt, the Constitution vested the President with near unlimited power.

But Roosevelt and progressives who followed him ran into twin obstacles: the U.S. Constitution and the principle of majoritarianism. The Constitution created a limited-and-enumerated-powers government and required respect for the law, law created by legislative majorities. Majoritarianism requires 51 percent or better support for a policy to become law. Progressives have never been in a majority in the United States – only a small percentage of Americans, about 12 percent of American adults, [vii] today consider themselves “progressive.” But progressives have one trait in abundance: an unwavering belief they are right, and patience for the “long fight.”

Their first objective was to dismantle the restrictions placed on the federal government by the Constitution, and then, knowing that would not be sufficient, to mold the federal judiciary, particularly the Supreme Court, into a body willing to look beyond the law in favor of societal “progress,” a court system willing to follow the philosophy of Supreme Court Associate Justice Thurgood Marshall: “You do what you think is right, and let the law catch up.”[viii] Until recently, they had succeeded famously in both respects.

What do Progressives believe? Although there are political parties called “Progressive” in other countries, notably countries where socialism is ascendant, there is no Progressive Party in the United States. Wikipedia identifies the Democratic Party as the current embodiment of progressivism in the United States.[ix] But within the Democratic Party there are “classical liberal,” moderate democrat, environmental and other factions. Progressives, while making great inroads, are still a minority. Research by Elaine Kamarck at the Brookings Institution in 2018 found that 44 percent of Democrats identified as a “progressive,” compared to 29 percent in 2016 and 26 percent in 2014.[x]

Bottom line: there is no single acknowledged platform or list of progressive beliefs. But here’s my view after considering multiple sources.

Utopianism. If there is one thing that distinguishes progressivism from other forms of political philosophy, it is an unflinching belief in the perfectibility of man and society. Human society has myriad problems; but progressivism holds that they can all be solved if we simply work together – and implement the solutions progressives have come up with. Mankind is innately good and those infrequent deviations when men and women do wrong should be handled carefully and gently – incarceration is usually a last resort (unless politics get involved; witness the January 6th prisoners).

Atheism/Agnosticism. Although a progressive form of Christianity has reportedly emerged in the last few years (focusing on the so-called “Social Gospel”), progressives typically have no use for God, divine revelation, divine providence, or the concept of original sin.

Universalism/Globalism. Progressives believe a single, one-world government is the perfect vehicle to bring about progressive ends as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Statism. Progressives view government as a tool, perhaps the best tool to achieve the perfect society. While they tout “freedom from government interference” they do not hesitate to use the power of government to achieve their societal ends.

Collectivism/Cooperation. Progressivism holds to a diminished view of individualism and private property, replaced by the need for everyone to cooperate to achieve progressive goals, to include forced “cooperation” if necessary.

Historicism. Historicism is a belief that history must be understood in context, and if the proper progressive-anointed context is not present in the traditional way of teaching certain history, the history must be re-interpreted in the “correct” context (the 1619 Project being the perfect example).

Enhanced Group Rights, Diminished Individual Rights. A diminished view of free speech, for example, replaced by limitations on speech in pursuit of “harmony,” “non-offensiveness” and an obsession with “disinformation.” British police arrested someone recently because their repost of a post on Facebook caused someone “anxiety.”[xi]

Social Justice. “Social Justice” is measured by equality of outcome rather than equality of opportunity. Social Justice is of paramount importance to the progressive, and the full strength of government should be employed to achieve it. “Too much economic and political power is concentrated in too few hands.”

Living Constitution. As has been quoted, progressivism is at least partially a response to constitutionalism, the idea that a written constitution both empowers and limits the power of the government it creates. But progressives do not abandon the Constitution altogether when they encounter its limits, they simply re-interpret the document to remove the limits. “Progressivism insists that the principled American constitutionalism of fixed natural rights and limited and dispersed powers must be overturned and replaced by an organic, evolutionary model of the Constitution.”[xii]

A typical response of a progressive to being told that something can’t be done for constitutional reasons was voiced in 2010 by Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi: “If the gate Is closed, we will go over the fence, if the fence is too high, we will pole vault in.”[xiii]

Use of the Courts

In a 1912 speech, Theodore Roosevelt complained that the courts often obstruct the will of the people in an unproductive manner. I’m not sure which “people” Roosevelt was talking to, but if you believe this, how do you overcome it? You populate the courts with progressive judges and justices. When you can’t seem to get the Supreme Court to see things your way, you employ a little “arm twisting” such as the famous “Court Packing” threat of FDR.

Perhaps the most compelling proof that progressives see the court as the mechanism for enacting policy preferences which don’t stand a chance in the democratic process was the recent “full-court press” used to try to prevent the confirmation of three conservative justices to the Supreme Court. But even this theater was over-shadowed by the apoplectic reactions that followed the Dobbs decision, in which a conservative-majority court returned the issue of abortion to the democratic process in each state. This, predictably, has led to demands to “pack the court” and return the court to the progressive policy-factory it once was.

Use of the Public Schools

Progressive educator John Dewey, typically called the “father of modern public education,” wrote: “I believe that education is the fundamental method of social progress and reform… a regulation of the process of coming to share in the social consciousness; and that the adjustment of the individual activity on the basis of this social consciousness is the only sure method of social reconstruction.”[xiv] (Emphasis added.) Today, it is safe to say, progressives dominate the U.S. public school systems.  They control the curriculum, administration, library book selections and of course the actual teaching that goes on in most classrooms. According to the Center for American Progress, the public school system is graduating more progressives each June.[xv]

The Constitution’s Challenges to Progressivism

Originalism. There is no question that the Founders intended the Constitution to be interpreted as they understood it. In an 1824 Letter to Henry Lee, James Madison insisted that:

“I entirely concur in the propriety of resorting to the sense in which the Constitution was accepted and ratified by the nation. In that sense alone it is the legitimate Constitution. And if that is not the guide in expounding it, there may be no security for its faithful exercise.”

Thomas Jefferson’s view was similar:

“On every question of construction, let us carry ourselves back to the time when the Constitution was adopted, recollect the spirit manifested in the debates, and instead of trying what meaning may be squeezed out of the text, or invented against it, conform to the probable one in which it was passed.”

“But the Founders didn’t have to contend with the global threat of climate change” is the frequent retort today. “Certainly, the Constitution must be adapted to deal with this modern threat.” So, who best to “adapt” the Constitution to modern conditions? Why, nine unelected judges in black robes, of course. We certainly can’t leave such an important issue to democracy now, can we?

Checks and Balances. Leaving aside the myth that the Framers created three “co-equal” branches of government,[xvi] the framers did imbed certain safeguards against a single branch of government assuming unwarranted power. “The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary, in the same hands, whether of one, a few, or many, and whether hereditary, selfappointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny.”[xvii] Unfortunately, many of these “checks and balances” have been systematically disassembled by the Supreme Court. For a list of the court decisions which have essentially shredded the Constitution’s limits on governmental power see here or read: The Dirty Dozen, How Twelve Supreme Court Cases Radically Expanded Government and Eroded Freedom, 2008, by Robert A. Levy and William Mellor.

Separation of Powers. This doctrine is another traditional restraint on the accumulation of unintended power which has been at least partially dismantled by the Supreme Court. The 1989 decision in Mistretta v. U.S. found that:

“… our jurisprudence has been driven by a practical understanding that in our increasingly complex society, replete with ever changing and more technical problems, Congress simply cannot do its job absent an ability to delegate power under broad general directives. Accordingly, this Court has deemed it “constitutionally sufficient” if Congress clearly delineates the general policy, the public agency which is to apply it, and the boundaries of this delegated authority.” (Emphasis added.)

In other words, the non-delegation of powers doctrine held by John Locke and others of the Founding Era would be ignored, the people not consulted, and Congress simply given this ability to delegate. Making matters worse was the opinion in Chevron U.S.A., Inc. v. Natural Resources Defense Council, Inc.,[xviii] The Supreme Court declared that federal courts should defer to the decisions of Executive Branch agencies when those agencies interpret the guidance in a statute if the “agency’s answer is based on a permissible construction [emphasis added] of the statute.” Some of these unsupported agency rules are challenged in court and overturned, and Congress has the power to overturn them as well, but a legal challenge is an expensive process, a quarter of a million dollars or more, so not every improper rule is challenged.

The Failures of the Progressive Vision

Progressivism came about as a challenge to constitutionalism. It should be clear by now that progressivism and constitutionalism simply cannot coexist; one must yield.

The basic problem with progressivism is that there is no end state, no way to tell whether progressive policies have worked; until the nebulous, undefinable state of “perfection” is reached, there can be only a steady, monotonous march onward toward “progress.”

Progressivism has brought us a federal government that can regulate every aspect of business, whether it deals with interstate commerce or not; a Code of Federal Regulations exceeding 180,000 pages; $2 Trillion in additional costs to U.S. businesses due to regulation compliance, a cost passed on to customers of those businesses; 4,500 plus federal crimes (compared with four in the original Constitution); the unwarranted taking of private property; in short: a government “that can do most anything in this country.”

Constitutionalism yielded during the Warren Court years and made somewhat of a comeback during the Rehnquist Court. What is disturbing to progressives now is the prospect of a new conservative court rolling back the “progress” progressives have made over the last 40-60 years. If there is reason for hope for constitutionalism today it lies in the present Roberts Court, placed during the Trump administration, with a 6-3 conservative to progressive balance. If the court can survive the progressives’ “full-court press” to change this balance, America might begin to see more of the progressive agenda to dismantle the original intentions of the United States Constitution, dismantled in the years ahead.

For further reading:


America Transformed: The Rise and Legacy of American Progressivism, 2021, by Ronald Pestritto.

Excuse Me, Professor, Challenging the Myths of Progressivism, 2015, Lawrence W. Reed.

Progressivism, A Primer on the Idea Destroying America, 2014, by James Ostrowski.

Plundered, How Progressive Ideology is Destroying America, 2012, by Michael Doffman.

How Progressives Rewrote the Constitution, 2006, by Richard Epstein.

The Progressive Era, Liberal Renaissance or Liberal Failure, 1965, Arthur Mann, ed.

The Supreme Court

Supreme Disorder; Judicial Nominations and the Politics of America’s Highest Court, 2020, by Ilya Shapiro.

Judicial Tyranny, 2014, by Mark Sutherland.

Storm Center, the Supreme Court in American Politics, 2011, by David Obrien.

Packing the Court, The Rise of Judicial Power and the Coming Crisis of the Supreme Court, 2009, by James Burns.

The Dirty Dozen, How Twelve Supreme Court Cases Radically Expanded Government and Eroded Freedom, 2008, by Robert A. Levy and William Mellor.

Men In Black, How the Supreme Court is Destroying America, 2005, by Mark Levin.

Courting Disaster, How the Supreme Court is Usurping the Power of Congress and the People, 2004, by Pat Robertson.

The Tempting of America, 1990, by Robert Bork.

Gary Porter is Executive Director of the Constitution Leadership Initiative (CLI), a project to promote a better understanding of the U.S. Constitution by the American people. CLI provides seminars on the Constitution, including one for young people utilizing “Our Constitution Rocks” as the text. Gary presents talks on various Constitutional topics, writes periodic essays published on several different websites, and appears in period costume as James Madison, explaining to public and private school students “his” (i.e., Madison’s) role in the creation of the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. Gary can be reached at, on Facebook or Twitter @constitutionled.

[i] The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition.


[iii] Some writers identify the Progressive Era as 1880 to 1920; I contend the Progressive Era never stopped.


[v] Roosevelt was President from September 14, 1901 to March 4, 1909.

[vi] Theodore Roosevelt, An Autobiography of Theodore Roosevelt, ed., Stephen Brennan (New York: Skyhorse Publishing, 2011), 304–10

[vii] Accessed at Note, 54%of respondents were “unsure” whether the progressive label fit them.





[xii] Bradley D. S. Watson, accessed at:

[xiii] Nancy Pelosi, accessed at:

[xiv] John Dewey, My Pedagogic Creed, School Journal vol. 54 (January 1897), pp. 77-80


[xvi] It is an irrefutable fact that the powers of the Congress eclipse those of either of the other two branches.

[xvii] James Madison, Federalist 47.

[xviii] Chevron U.S.A., Inc. v. Natural Resources Defense Council, Inc., 467 U.S. 837 (1984)


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Guest Essayist: Will Morrisey

Good government produces good administration, Publius has written. Good administration is what we need from the executive branch, charged as it is with carrying out the laws enacted by the legislature within the framework of the supreme law of the land, the United States Constitution. A good executive must act with energy. To enable executives so to act, the offices they occupy must have unity, duration, adequate provision in terms of money and personnel, and competent powers. Publius therefore defends the Framers of the Constitution in their establishment of a presidency unlike the consular system of Rome, which assigned domestic policy to one consul, foreign (and especially military) policy to another. The American president serves as chief administrative officer for domestic policy as well as Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces. Congress may not manipulate his salary and the president can exercise the power to veto Congressional legislation, thereby maintaining his independence of judgment. He is, then, neither a monarch nor a legislator but a republican executive.

In Federalist 71, Publius presents the reasons for and the institutional means to enable duration in office, “the second requisite to the energy of the executive authority.” There can be no substitute for character, for “the personal firmness of the executive in the employment of his constitutional powers.” Nor can there be any substitute for “the stability of the system of administration which may have been adopted under his auspices” as a consequence of that firmness of character. But no person can exercise such character or carry out such a system without an institutional framework which permits him to do so.

As always, Publius shows the link between the Constitution’s institutional arrangements and human nature. “It is a general principle of human nature that a man will be interested in whatever he possesses, in proportion to the firmness or precariousness of the tenure by which he holds it; will be less attached to what he holds by a momentary or uncertain title, than to what he enjoys by a durable or certain title.” The firmness of the man must be reinforced by the firmness of the office. In regimes whose executives serve at the whim of the legislature, as in many parliamentary systems, why would any person of character take the executive office seriously? Better to be a power broker in the parliament than the hapless holder of fly-by-night executive powers, powers that will not last if you exhibit the slightest hint of independence. And if you accepted such an office, why risk anything to defend powers which are not truly yours to wield? Such an institutional arrangement undermines civic courage, inclining the one who suffers under it, “too little interested in it to hazard any material censure or perplexity from the independent exertion of his powers, or from encountering the ill-humors, however transient, which may happen to prevail, either in a considerable part of the society itself, or even in a predominant faction in the legislative body.”

This defect had already been on display under the Articles of Confederation, which did not separate executive power from the legislative branch. The Americans who wanted to retain the Articles regime against the proposed Constitution were “inclined to regard the servile pliancy of the executive to a prevailing current, either in the community or in the legislature, as its best recommendation.” They want representative government to mirror Athenian-style direct democracy as much as possible, to have it register the opinions and even the passions of the people and their elected legislators. Publius considers such notions as “very crude,” with regard both to the ends and especially the means of government.

The Declaration of Independence set down the just purpose of American government as securing the safety and happiness of the American people, a purpose justified by their natural right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness under the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God. Much of that is “self-evident,” the Declaration says. Publius agrees: “It is a just observation that the people commonly intend the PUBLIC GOOD.” But as those same people themselves acknowledge, having learned it from experience under the Articles regime, they do not “always reason right about the means of promoting” the public good, “beset as they continually are by the wiles of parasites and sycophants, by the snares of the ambitious, the avaricious, the desperate, by the artifices of men who possess their confidence more than they deserve it, and of those who seek to possess rather than to deserve it.”

If self-government is therefore dangerous, “the republican principle demands that the deliberate sense of the community should govern the conduct of those to whom” the people “intrust the management of their affairs.” Characteristically, Publius attempts to firm up the chance that the distinctively human characteristic, reason, will have the greatest possible authority in government while acknowledging the impassion—Christian would say ‘fallen’–character of human beings.

There will, then, be circumstances “in which the interests of the people are at variance with their inclinations, it is the duty of the persons whom they have anointed to be the guardians of those interests to withstand the temporary delusion in order to give them time and opportunity for more cool and sedate reflection.” Thus to serve the people “at the peril of their displeasure” takes “courage and magnanimity.”

It is important to pause and appreciate the moral structure of Publius’ argument, here. He wants to see the rule of reason in the United States—to the extent possible, given human frailty. The Constitution generally, and a four-year, renewable presidential term in particular, provides an institutional framework for such rule. But neither the rule of reason nor the defense of the Constitution can survive without two other virtues that array themselves against popular passion. Civic courage is easy to understand and to appreciate, if not commonplace. We have all seen examples of men and women, even children, who have refused to buckle under ‘peer pressure.’ Magnanimity is less well understood.

Magnanimity literally means greatness of soul: in Latin, magnus means great, large; anima means soul. The classic description of the great-souled individual comes from Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics IV.3. The great-souled man, Aristotle writes, “deems himself worthy of great things and is worthy of them.” This means that he possesses all the cardinal virtues—courage, moderation, justice, and prudence—to a very high degree. Accordingly, he stands ready to withstand the demands of others, however intensely they may clamor, when he sees that those demands are cowardly, immoderate, unjust, or imprudent. He can take the heat, and he can do it without resentment.

A republican regime undergirded by a democratic civil society will test him. He can pass that test, but without a firm institutional foundation on which to stand he will be physically overwhelmed by the majority tide, helpless to resist “the humors of the legislature.” The Articles of Confederation government had folded executive and judicial power into the legislature, giving inadequate support for reason, courage, or magnanimity—the finest human characteristics. “To what purpose separate the executive or the judiciary from the legislature,” as the new Constitution had done, “if both the executive and the judiciary are so constituted as to be at the absolute devotion of the legislative” branch? The powers would then be separated in name only, with the legislature “exert[ing] an imperious control over the other departments,” unbalancing the apparently balanced powers of the federal government as framed by the Constitution.

This is exactly what has been happening under the Articles. The same thing will happen again unless the president enjoys a stable tenure in office. In view of this, “it may be asked whether a duration of four years would answer to the end proposed,” whether such a duration of a presidential term will suffice to resist attempts by legislators to dominate the system. Publius does not pretend that he knows the answer, since a four-year term was untried in previous American governments and the lifelong term of a European monarch—in principle if not always in practice as stable a provision as can be had—was highly undesirable. It is nonetheless reasonable to think that a four-year presidential term “would have a material influence upon the spirit and character of the government.”

Why? Because any person “endowed with a tolerable portion of fortitude” should see that there is “time enough” before the current term expires, and the prospect of re-election draws near, for the people and their legislative representatives to have calmed down and to be ready to assess the president with equanimity. True enough, this would mean that he might not dare to resist popular disapproval so readily as his term drew to an end, but for most of the time he would be able to hold steadily to his constitutional duties and best judgment. At the same time, unlike a monarch, a president won’t stay in office long enough “to justify any alarm for the public liberty.” Which is not to say that his enemies won’t try to raise such alarms.

Publius’ understanding of the presidency not only departs from the conception of executive power which prevailed under the Articles, it also contradicts the new conception of the presidency advanced by the Progressives, more than a century later. President Woodrow Wilson rejected the United States Constitution as an antiquated and constricting product of a bygone era, and equally rejected its moral foundation in the laws of Nature and of Nature’s God. In place of natural right, he substituted historical right, claiming that the course of events, guided by divine Providence, provided the true moral light for humanity. In view of this continuing historical progress, the Constitution must be reconceived as an ‘elastic’ or ‘living’ document, to be reinterpreted by political leaders such as himself who placed themselves on the cutting edge of that progress. In place of magnanimity, Wilson substituted compassion, not so much a virtue as a sentiment, one intended to carry the people along on a tide of emotion with slogans like ‘I feel your pain.’ The president, then, should serve not so much as the executor of Congressional legislation within a stable constitutional framework but as the principal leader of the nation, the person who senses where public opinion should go next, appealing more to their passion than their prudence in the hope of induing the people to follow him to that ever-new, ever-higher destination.

As a result, the Progressives raised expectations to unfulfillable heights, grafting their own unusual brand of moving-target ‘constitutionalism’ onto the old Constitution, with predictably confusing and self-contradictory results that have persisted to this day.

Will Morrisey is Professor Emeritus of Politics at Hillsdale College, and Editor and Publisher of Will Morrisey Reviews.



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Guest Essayist: Joerg Knipprath

At the 1896 Democratic Party convention in Chicago, a former Congressman from Nebraska, William Jennings Bryan, gave a stirring oration in favor of the party’s “pro-silver” political platform. Filled with passion and a near-revolutionary fire, the speech concluded with a warning to those who wanted the United States to maintain a gold standard for the dollar, “You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns; you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.” Bryan underscored this patently religious analogy by posing at its conclusion with his arms outstretched like someone nailed to a cross. The convention erupted in pandemonium. The ecstatic reaction of the delegates resulted in the “Boy Orator of the Platte River” receiving the party’s nomination for president of the United States at age 36, the youngest major party nominee ever. He became the Democrats’ presidential standard bearer twice more, in 1900 and 1908, again the only major party nominee to do so. He lost each time.

In addition to the Democratic Party nomination, Bryan received that of the more radical, mostly rural-based Populist Party, which favored federal government intervention in the economy. The Populists split after the 1896 election, with most supporters voting for Democrats, while others, typically urban workers, drifted to the Socialist Party. Although historians have long debated the direct influence of the Populist Party on the Progressive movement of the turn of the 20th century, there are clearly identifiable connections between them in regards to economic and political reforms. One difference, however, is in their class identification. The Populist movement was working class and agrarian. The Progressive reformers were upper-middle class urbanites, many from the Midwest. Related to that difference was the greater support for Progressivism among intellectuals and “scribblers,” which produced a more coherent political program and a stronger ideological framework. Ultimately, this produced far greater political success for the Progressive agenda—and more lasting repercussions.

As that passage from the “Cross of Gold” speech suggests, Bryan had a strong evangelical and Calvinist bent. He had a religious conversion experience as a teenager and in his entire life remained a theological conservative who preached a social gospel. His resort to religious imagery and apocalyptic language was not uncommon among Progressives. Theodore Roosevelt could thunder to the assembled delegates at the Progressive Party convention in 1912, “We stand at Armageddon, and we battle for the Lord,” as his enraptured supporters marched around the hall, singing “Onward, Christian Soldiers” and similar spirited hymns.

Those Progressives who were more skeptical of religion nevertheless had similarly messianic visions of reform which would deliver the country from its ills and lead to the Promised Land. The forces for change would be a democratized political structure invigorated by mass participation; a concerted program to attack the root causes of societal dysfunctions, from poverty to alcohol, narcotics, gambling, and prostitution; laws to prevent exploitation of the large urban working class; and, most fundamental, a rational system of policy-making controlled by a strong executive and a stable bureaucracy of technological and scientific experts. As presidential nominee Woodrow Wilson announced in his campaign platform in 1912, “This is nothing short of a new social age, a new era of human relationships, a new stage-setting for the drama of life.” Certainly nothing picayune or transitory about that!

The first of those goals was accomplished over time with the popular election of Senators through the 17th Amendment, and through the adoption by many states of the initiative and referendum process, primary elections for nominations for public office, more expanded “home rule” for localities, and non-partisan elections for local offices. Further, the half of American women excluded from the franchise received it through the 19th Amendment, adopted in 1920. On the other hand, by the late 1920s, the Progressives’ nativism eliminated the previous practice in a number of states of letting non-citizen immigrants vote.

The second came in the form of state laws against vice. Lotteries became illegal. Prostitution, which was ubiquitous at the turn of the 20th century typically in the form of brothels, was already against the law; those laws began to be enforced more vigorously. Another of America’s periodic movements to ban alcohol got under way. Because state laws often proved unable to control interstate markets of vice made possible through easier modes of transportation, the federal government became involved. Narcotics were regulated through taxation under the Harrison Narcotics Tax Act of 1914. The interstate transportation of lottery tickets was prohibited in 1895 through a federal law upheld by the Supreme Court in Champion v. Ames in 1903. The Mann Act, or White Slave Traffic Act of 1910, prohibited taking a woman across state lines for immoral purposes. That law was upheld by the Supreme Court in Hoke v. United States in 1913 and extended to non-prostitution private dalliances in Caminetti v. United States in 1917. After 27 states declared themselves “dry,” and others adopted “local options” to prohibit alcohol, temperance groups, especially those connected to upper-middle class women’s organizations, succeeded in having the 18th Amendment adopted in 1919. That national ban on production, sale, and transportation of alcohol for drinking was quickly followed by enabling legislation, the Volstead Act, that same year.

The third area of social reform was advanced through the adoption of maximum hour laws, minimum wage laws, unionization protections, and anti-child labor laws around the turn of the 20th century. Some such efforts, especially by Congress, initially came a cropper before the Supreme Court as violations of the United States Constitution. They fared better during the next wave of Progressivism under President Franklin Roosevelt in the 1930s.

The fourth, a government and society directed by an unelected technocratic elite of policy-making experts, lay at the heart of the Progressive movement. It proved to be a long-term project. To understand the “Progressive mindset” requires a closer examination of two men, Woodrow Wilson and Herbert Croly. There were other influential intellectuals, such as Walter Lippmann (who wrote A Preface to Politics in 1913, among many other works) and Brooks Adams (who was a grandson of President John Quincy Adams and wrote A Theory of Social Revolution that same year), but Wilson and Croly were renowned.

Thomas Woodrow Wilson was dour, humorless, and convinced of the fallen nature of all but the elect few. For human progress to flourish, he postulated the need for strong leaders with proper principles who would provide the discipline and vision for the moral guidance of the weak at home and abroad. Calvinist in appearance, outlook, and family background (his father and grandfather having been Presbyterian ministers), he embodied the caricature of a Puritan divine. Those traits also made him a perfect Progressive.

Before becoming president of the United States, Wilson was a professor at Princeton University, later becoming its president. He also was elected governor of New Jersey. During his academic tenure, he wrote several influential books which set forth his criticisms of American constitutional structure. His proposed solutions cemented his bona fides as a Progressive.

Wilson was strongly influenced by 19th century German intellectual thought, especially Hegel’s views of the State as the evolutionary path of an Idea through history, and by contemporary adaptations of Darwinian theories to social science. Indeed, so enamored was Wilson of German philosophy and university research that his wife, Ellen, learned the language just to translate German works of political science for him.

Wilson enthusiastically embraced the nascent ideology of the State. He characterized that entity as organic and contrasted it with what he described as the mechanical nature of the Constitution with its structure of interacting and counterbalancing parts. As he wrote in Constitutional Government in 1908, “The trouble with [the Framers’ approach] is that government is not a machine, but a living thing. It falls, not under the theory of the universe, but under the theory of organic life. It is accountable to Darwin, not to Newton.”

The “organic” State tied to the people in some mystical union must not be shackled by a fusty piece of parchment with its artifice of checks and balances. An entirely new constitutional order must be created that reflects the inevitable ascendancy of the State in human affairs. If that was not a realistic option due to reactionary political forces or sentimental popular attachments, the parchment must be broadly amended. During Wilson’s first presidential term, constitutional amendments to authorize a federal income tax and to elect Senators by popular vote were approved.

Beyond formal amendment of the Constitution, the various components of the government had to be marshaled into the service of Progressivism. Thus, Congress must pass far-reaching laws that increase state power at the expense of laissez-faire individualism. The result was a series of federal regulatory laws in union-management affairs, antitrust, child labor, tax, and—through the creation of the Federal Reserve system—banking. That activism was replicated in many states. The era of big government had arrived.

As usual, the Supreme Court took longer. Though the Court upheld various particulars of Progressive legislation, the organic theory of the state was not embodied forthrightly in its decisions until the later New Deal years and the post-Second World War emergence of the “Living Constitution” jurisprudence. Adherents to the Progressive deification of the State, then and now, have sought to remake judicial doctrine by untethering it from formal constitutional structure in favor of ideological dogma. Their efforts have focused on an expansive interpretation of Congressional powers, disregard of the prohibition against excessive delegation of power to bureaucracies, and a transformation of the Equal Protection Clause into a contrivance for “positive” equality. On that last point, success has been slow in coming. But since every political entity necessarily has a constitution, for Progressives it is beyond cavil that their “organic state” requires a progressive living constitution, one that prioritizes social justice and secures equality of condition. Exempting, perhaps, the governing elite.

That left the Presidency. Wilson’s early work, Congressional Government from 1885, reflected his contempt for American separation of powers and urged constitutional change to a parliamentary-style system with centralized power and an expanded federal bureaucracy. He dismissed the president as a mere “clerk of the Congress.” Over the next two decades, his perceptions about the Presidency changed significantly. Wilson regarded the administrations of Grover Cleveland and Theodore Roosevelt as exemplary. His last major work, Constitutional Government, published in 1908, focused on the Presidency as the engine for change.

Wilson’s eventual views of the Presidency were thoroughly 20th century. He treated the formal constitutional powers of the office as minor matters and regarded its occupant as increasingly burdened by obligations as party leader and as executor of the laws and administrator of Congressional policies. That burden had become impossible for a single man, a refrain frequently heard before and since. This fact of political life would only become more pressing with the inevitable—and welcome—evolution to a more powerful and controlling State.

Therefore, a president will and must leave the performance of those duties increasingly in the hands of subordinates. The appointment of trusted officials was more important than the selection of wise men of different opinion to give him counsel, as George Washington did, or of leaders of prominent factions within the party coalition, as was the practice of, among others, Abraham Lincoln. Instead, as Wilson wrote, presidents must become “directors of affairs and leaders of the nation,—men of counsel and of the sort of action that makes for enlightenment.”

Theodore Roosevelt’s “bully pulpit” construct of the Presidency was the new model. The traditional chief executive dealt with the congressional chieftains to influence policy as it emerged within those chambers in response to the broadly-felt needs of the times. Instead, the modern president would bypass the ordinary channels of political power and appeal to the public to shape policy to his creative vision. Wilson wrote, “The President is at liberty, both in law and in conscience, to be as big a man as he can. His capacity will set the limit….” This Nietzschean conception of the Presidency as a vessel for its occupants to exercise their will to power is quintessentially fascist. The focus on the charismatic and messianic leader as the ideal of government and the vehicle for progress to a utopian just society is a hallmark of American progressivism to this day and has also characterized the more virulent forms of collectivism. There are telling appellations:  Il Duce Mussolini, Der Fuehrer Hitler, Vozhd Joe Stalin, El Líder Castro, and North Korea’s Kims (Great Leader, Dear Leader, and Respected Leader). All convey the same meaning. Personality cults inevitably accompany Progressive-style leaders.

Wilson’s descriptions of the Presidency and the reality of political practice had a core of truth, lest his prescriptions not be plausible. To get to those prescriptions, however, he set ablaze many constitutional straw men. Though he paid lip service to the Constitution’s framers’ sagacity, he understated their practical appreciation of the office. Alexander Hamilton wrote several Federalist Papers that extolled the need for energy and accountability in the Presidency which he argued were furthered by the Constitution’s structure of the unitary executive. Through his Pacificus Letters, Hamilton became the foundational advocate of a theory of broad implied executive authority on which later presidents relied, including Wilson’s model, Theodore Roosevelt. George Washington shaped the contours of the Executive Branch by his actions within the purposely ambiguous contours of presidential powers under the Constitution. There were serious debates in the Washington administration about the nature of the president’s cabinet and the constitutional relationship between the president and the officers, debates that were generally resolved in favor of presidential control over those officers.

Wilson decried what he saw as a lack of accountability in the Constitution’s formal separation of powers. Yet it was his system where the president is “above the fray,” while little-known and uncontrolled subordinates carry out all manner of critical policies without, allegedly, his awareness. Events over the past two years have amply demonstrated the flaws of rule by credentialed, but unaccountable “experts” at all levels of government. Their decrees, too often based on misunderstood or even fabricated “evidence” and produced in a closed culture implacably hostile to dissent, affected Americans in profound economic, psychological, and social ways. Long-cherished individual rights were brushed aside, selectively, by this pretended clerisy through appeals to the greater health of the society and the common good, appeals which were frequently shown not to affect the behavior of the elite elect. All the while, politicians sought to deflect responsibility onto those bureaucrats.

Herbert Croly was perhaps the most important intellectual of Progressivism, next to Wilson. That seems odd, given the tortuous language and convoluted emotive passages that characterize his work. The Promise of American Life, published in 1909, is Croly’s most significant contribution to public debate, one that supposedly so influenced Theodore Roosevelt it is said to have been the catalyst for Roosevelt’s return to politics as a third-party “Bull Moose” presidential candidate in the 1912 election. Whereas Wilson dealt with constitutional structure and politics, Croly focused on political economy.

In Promise, Croly described himself and his vision as Hamiltonian. But it painted as “Hamiltonian” something that Alexander Hamilton would have foresworn. Croly argued for organization of the economy through coordination among large nationalized corporations, powerful and exclusive labor unions, and a strong and activist central government. This was the classic corporatist model of “rationalizing” the economy. It embraced the essence of fascist political economy and, with some tinkering, of socialist and Progressive systems. Whereas Hamilton proposed to use government incentives to unleash the entrepreneurial and inventive spirit of Americans to create wealth which ultimately would benefit all, Croly wanted the national government to throttle such entrepreneurial opportunity in favor of large entities, enhance the powers of the few, and use public policy to legislate a welfare state for the poor. However, haphazard social welfare legislation would be inadequate. As noted, the program had to be comprehensive of the whole of society. Independent small businesses, as elements within traditional American republicanism, were the bane of Progressive true believers in mass organization. Theirs would be a coalition of the wealthy few, an administrative elite, the working class, and the mass of poor against the broad middle.

Another book, Progressive Democracy from 1914, extended Croly’s Progressive canon. It rested on the usual Progressive premises, such as the omnipotent, all-caring, and morally perfect Hegelian God-state that would be the inevitable evolutionary end of Progressive politics. It posited the notion—so common in Progressive and other leftist theory—of stages of human social and political development that have been left behind and whose outdated institutions are an impediment to ultimate progress. Hence, Croly insisted, the Constitution’s structure of representative government and separation and division of powers needed to be, and would be, changed. Unlike the societal realities of the late 18th century which had produced American republicanism in the form of representative government within a federal structure, “In the twentieth century, however, these practical conditions of political association have again changed, and have changed in a manner which enables the mass of the people to assume some immediate control of their political destinies.”

The new political mechanism was direct democracy, the most authentic expression of popular will. It was beloved of leftists of all stripes. At least in theory. However, Croly considered reforms such as the initiative, referendum, primaries, and popular election of Senators to be misdirected and inauthentic if they were used only to restrict government power and to correct government abuses. As such, they were still shackled by old conceptions about the primacy of individual rights and by the suspicion of powerful government that had characterized the earlier period of Jeffersonian republicanism. “If the active political responsibilities which it [direct democracy] grants to the electorate are redeemed in the negative and suspicious spirit which characterized the attitude of the American democracy towards its official organization during its long and barren alliance with legalism [the Constitution as a formal system of checks and balances that controls the actions of the political majority], direct democracy will merely become a source of additional confusion and disorganization.”

There were, then, bad and good direct democracy. The good form was one that produced the proper, Progressive social policy, and accepted the dominance of powerful state organs which could accomplish that policy: “Direct democracy…has little meaning except in a community which is resolutely pursuing a vigorous social program. It must become one of a group of political institutions, whose object is fundamentally to invigorate and socialize the action of American public opinion.” Note some key words: A political system must be measured by “meaning,” such as the quintessentially Progressive “Politics of Meaning,” long associated with manifestos of the American Left. “Vigor” and “action,” two words that were markers of Progressive ideology and rhetoric at the personal, as well as the political, level. Wilson, the two Roosevelts, and John and Robert Kennedy strove mightily to present themselves as embodying those very characteristics, often to hide physical limitations. Finally, “social” or “socialize,” as the antidote to the traditional American insistence on the rights of individuals that were derived from sources outside the State and which trumped the demands of the collective.

In that “good” form, popular participation was, in effect, a thermometer to measure the temperature of the public’s support for an activist political program. Croly advised, “A negative individualistic social policy implies a weak and irresponsible government. A positive comprehensive social policy implies a strong, efficient and responsible government….A social policy is concerned in the most intimate and comprehensive way with the lives of the people. In order to be successful, it must rest on the basis of abundant and cordial popular support.” Instead of a structure constrained by the text and the received traditions of fundamental law, government would be limited only by vague measures of its policies’ popularity.

Despite Croly’s perfunctory disclaimer, popular participation was to be little more than a plebiscite on actions to be taken by a legislature otherwise unrestrained by the formal structures of the “Law.” “The government must have the power to determine the Law instead of being circumscribed by the Law,” he wrote in Progressive Democracy. As Croly—and Wilson— recognized, legislatures would not be up to the task of supervising such an increasingly intrusive paternalistic State. Hence, a powerful administrative apparatus was required. That signature component of the modern regulatory state—the vast, unelected bureaucracy—was necessarily beyond the control of the people. True, it might be a dictatorship of the technocratic elite, but it would be a benevolent one, we are assured, always loyally and selflessly laboring for our weal.

But like H.G. Wells’ society of Eloi and Morlocks in The Time Machine, the Progressive state was not as benign as its propagandists depicted it on the surface. The Progressives had a strong Darwinian bent. If Woodrow Wilson identified the State as an organism governed by the biological laws of Darwin, those laws raised some uncomfortable topics. Evolution and change are the constants of such a system; evolution requires adaptation to change. But in the State, unlike nature, adaptation could not be left to chance but must be directed rationally. Where survival of the fittest was the rule, only the fittest could rule. That the government was not under more direct control of the people was due to what Croly euphemistically described as the small size of the fund of social reason.

In view of that scarcity of social reason, Croly explained, “[the] work of extracting the stores of reason from the bosom of society must be subordinated to the more fundamental object of augmenting the supply of social reason and improving its distribution.” This was a task critical to the success of government unconstrained by the old Constitutional structures. “The electorate must be required as the result of its own actual experience and unavoidable responsibilities to develop those very qualities of intelligence, character, faith and sympathy which are necessary for the success of the democratic experiment.”

While Croly proposed that education would provide the means of human progress and the nurturing of social reason among the mass of people, there were those who were unfit for such efforts. Croly, like Woodrow Wilson and unlike William Jennings Bryan, believed in the need for state regulation of marriage and reproduction to combat crime and insanity and to promote the propagation of the truly fittest. When he was governor of New Jersey, Wilson signed a law of just such tenor that targeted various “defectives” for sterilization. Therein is mirrored one of the traits commonly attributed to the progressive intellectual. He professes to idolize humanity and the principle of popular government, but he despises humans and distrusts individual autonomy and political choice.

Joerg W. Knipprath is an expert on constitutional law, and member of the Southwestern Law School faculty. Professor Knipprath has been interviewed by print and broadcast media on a number of related topics ranging from recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions to presidential succession. He has written opinion pieces and articles on business and securities law as well as constitutional issues, and has focused his more recent research on the effect of judicial review on the evolution of constitutional law. He has also spoken on business law and contemporary constitutional issues before professional and community forums, and serves as a Constituting America Fellow.


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Guest Essayist: Andrew Langer

In the previous essay, the Stalinist era of Soviet history was juxtaposed against the concerns of the Founders as discussed in the Federalist Papers. In this essay, that same era is examined within the context of the United States Constitution as adopted and ratified, and to look at the “failures” of the Stalin regime vis a vis America’s system of constitutional governance.

But it might be a mistake to call Stalin’s reign “a failure,” per se. Certainly, it was a failure insofar as the adherence to democracy or the protection of individual rights. One can also say that aspects of Soviet policy as compared to the revolutionary goals of improving the lives of “the people” were abject failures.

But in terms of doing what Stalin and his comrades were intending to do regarding creating a state in which power was concentrated in the hands of a few? They were brutally successful at that. In fact, it was only Stalin’s death in 1953 at the age of 74 that brought an end to his proximate reign, and it was the chaotic aftermath in the wake of Stalin’s death (and the power struggle that ensued) that brought some reforms to the Soviet Union. It wasn’t any greater adherence to some kind of principle of individual rights and limited government.

Keeping in mind that the Soviet Union did have a series of “constitutions”—including one in 1924 and another in 1936, as Stalin had truly consolidated his power. While these constitutions claimed to guarantee some measure of rights (as well as outlining a series of social and economic entitlement programs), they left intact other political machinations guaranteeing one-party rule and the concentration of power in the hands of very few.

In fact, it was after the passage of the Soviet Constitution of 1936 that some of the bloodiest, most-horrifying years of Stalin’s reign began. The so-called Great Purge not only swept up millions of innocents, it also swept up many of the architects of the 1936 Constitution itself!

Two of the most-basic differences between our constitutional system and the Soviet system are the adherence to basic concepts of due process rights, as well as the assurance of open debate and the protection of dissenting views. The denial of both within the Soviet Union allowed for the government to use the military and secret police to brutally repress conflicting views as well as killing and imprisoning millions more in both secret prisons as well as a system of forced-labor prisons known as the “Gulag.”

The head of the secret police under Stalin, Lavrentiy Beria, was noted for saying, “Show me the man and I’ll show you the crime.”

In other words, we don’t need due process or a rule of law. If we want to arrest someone or otherwise suppress dissent, we can simply make them disappear by accusing them of a crime, and because we don’t need to actually prove that crime, they can be taken away.

It is worth noting that two American socialist activists, John Reed and Emma Goldman, both of whom were eager supporters of the 1917 Revolution (and were attempting to bring similar revolutionary fervor to the United States), became privately disillusioned with the direction of the post-Soviet era under first Lenin and then Stalin—most notably because of the lack of democracy in practice and the suppression of dissent.

Under the American system, power is diffused, checked and balanced.  Under the Soviet system, especially under Stalin, power is concentrated—and the politics of the CPSU (Communist Party Soviet Union) ran through every element of daily life, with the Politburo (a central committee of the highest-ranking members of “The Party”) making policy and dictating that policy through the ranks of the Soviet bureaucracy.

Setting aside the secret police, at the time known as the NKVD (and later the KGB), the politics of communism (and adherence to party doctrine) also played a role in military command.

Under our system, the military is meant to be entirely free from the political machinery of our system—our military personnel are supposed to advance on their own merit, the military is an instrument of policy, and the guidance of that policy is balanced between the legislative and executive branches. The President is Commander-in-Chief, but only Congress can declare war, for instance.

During the Soviet era, not only was the military largely under the direction of the Premier (the Soviet leader, also known as the General Secretary) and the Politburo, but each individual unit was given a “political officer,” known as a “Zampolit,” who would ensure that Marxist-Leninist dogma was injected into military affairs, as well as recommend advancement or punishment for military members depending on their adherence to that dogma.

It is also worth noting that the abuse of power by the NKVD and the interference by the Politburo in military affairs led to Field Marshal Gregoriy Zhukov’s support of Nikita Khrushchev in his bid for power following Stalin’s death, since Zhukov was deeply concerned for what might happen should Beria, the head of the secret police, gain greater power under Stalin’s successor, Georgy Malenkov.

In the end, it is not only our Constitution, but the perspective in how we approach government and governance in the United States, that fundamentally sets us apart from any communist or socialist system—whether under Stalin or Krushchev or Brezhnev, or in Maoist China or Castro’s Cuba or North Korea led by a Kim.

We approach governance from the perspective that rights are naturally occurring in man and that power flows from the citizenry to the government, whose powers are carefully enumerated and tightly constrained. These other systems believe that government grants rights to their citizens, and that absent action by that citizenry, it is assumed that the government retains all power to act.

There were no checks on power in Stalin’s USSR—millions died or suffered as a result of it.

Andrew Langer is President of the Institute for Liberty, as well as Chairman and Founder of the Institute for Regulatory Analysis and Engagement. IFL is a non-profit advocacy organization focused on advancing free-market and limited government principles into public policy at all levels. IRAE is a non-profit academic and activist organization whose mission is to examine regulations and regulatory proposals, assess their economic and societal impacts, and offer expert commentary in order to create better public policies. Andrew has been involved in free-market and limited-government causes for more than 25 years, has testified before Congress nearly two dozen times, spoken to audiences across the United States, and has taught at the collegiate level.

A globally-recognized expert on the impact of regulation on business, Andrew is regularly called on to offer innovative solutions to the challenges of squaring public policy priorities with the impact and efficacy of those policies, as well as their unintended consequences. Prior to becoming President of IFL and founding IRAE, he was the principal regulatory affairs lobbyist for the National Federation of Independent Business, the nation’s largest small business association. As President of the Institute for Liberty, he became recognized as an expert on the Constitution, especially issues surrounding private property rights, free speech, abuse of power, and the concentration of power in the federal executive branch.

Andrew has had an extensive career in media—having appeared on television programs around the world. From 2017 to 2021, he hosted a highly-rated weekly program on WBAL NewsRadio 1090 in Baltimore (as well as serving as their principal fill-in host from 2011 until 2021), and has filled in for both nationally-syndicated and satellite radio programs. He also created and hosted several different podcasts—currently hosting Andrew and Jerry Save The World, with long-time colleague, Jerry Rogers.

He holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration from Troy University and his degree from William & Mary is in International Relations.


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Guest Essayist: Andrew Langer
Interior, Gulag Museum in Moscow, used during the Great Purge under Joseph Stalin’s reign killing millions of innocents.

The reign of Joseph Stalin as the leader of the Soviet Union from 1922 until his death in 1953 made real just about every fear the Federalists and Anti-federalists discussed regarding concentrated power and government run amok during the debates over the adoption and ratification of the United States Constitution.

Through the entirety of the Federalist Papers, Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay were constantly debating the balancing of interests, and the push/pull between a central government strong enough to both defend the nation of several states and address the common needs of those states, yet not so powerful as to run roughshod over the rights of those states and the residents therein.

Interestingly enough, the fact that our Founders were able to so openly debate the nature of the early American experiments in governance is completely alien to what occurred in the post-revolutionary transition from the formerly tsarist Russia into the Soviet Union first under Vladimir Lenin and then under Stalin.

Unlike the open debates of our Founders, and the reliance on the consensus-building governance of the American political system (built, as it was, on the examples of the liberalized British system), when the Tsar was overthrown and the soviet government established in Russia, the Bolsheviks immediately set-out to remove or otherwise neutralize opposition voices and consolidate power—and did so using a combination of military power and adopted post-tsarist secret police that could use force and intimidation to back-up any effort at domination.

So while Jay, Madison, and Hamilton could agree and disagree with one another in very public discussions, and the three of them could have ongoing conversations regarding the elements of the Constitution with their allies and opponents, Stalin’s system left it up to a handful of men to, literally, dictate the course of the Soviet Union in the years (and then decades) after the Russian Revolution of 1917—and then support their decisions with either direct military force or the force of their secret police, the NKVD.

The post-Revolution Bolsheviks had outlawed alternative political parties (even alternative factions of socialism, like the “Mensheviks,” the other dominant socialist viewpoint in during the 1917 Revolution), the dissemination of information was through the central government, and a vibrant system of “informing” on ones fellow Soviet citizens was created, in which people could be arrested upon the scant denouncing of their neighbors—or because the denounced said or did something that the central government did not like.

In Federalist 46, Hamilton summed up the general fear of constitutional skeptics in the late 18th century:

“The only refuge left for those who prophesy the downfall of the State governments is the visionary supposition that the federal government may previously accumulate a military force for the projects of ambition… That the people and the States should, for a sufficient period of time, elect an uninterupted succession of men ready to betray both; that the traitors should, throughout this period, uniformly and systematically pursue some fixed plan for the extension of the military establishment; that the governments and the people of the States should silently and patiently behold the gathering storm, and continue to supply the materials, until it should be prepared to burst on their own heads, must appear to every one more like the incoherent dreams of a delirious jealousy, or the misjudged exaggerations of a counterfeit zeal, than like the sober apprehensions of genuine patriotism.”

Interestingly enough, Madison had answered his own question earlier in Federalist 46 when he wrote:

“The disquietude of the people; their repugnance and, perhaps, refusal to co-operate with the officers of the Union; the frowns of the executive magistracy of the State; the embarrassments created by legislative devices, which would often be added on such occasions, would oppose, in any State, difficulties not to be despised; would form, in a large State, very serious impediments; and where the sentiments of several adjoining States happened to be in unison, would present obstructions which the federal government would hardly be willing to encounter. But ambitious encroachments of the federal government, on the authority of the State governments, would not excite the opposition of a single State, or of a few States only. They would be signals of general alarm. Every government would espouse the common cause. A correspondence would be opened. Plans of resistance would be concerted.”

But for a nation in which power is concentrated in the hands of very few, where dissent is suppressed beyond the point of imprisonment, and where that power is undergirded with both direct military force and the anxiety produced by the specter of secret police, there is no opportunity for “plans of resistance” or any concerted correspondence.

Worse, “dissent” could take many forms—and not even have to be proved, in order for punishment to be meted out. Stalin used his military to massacre civilians and put political pressure on Soviet republics and non-republic satellite states. And between Stalin and the head of the NKVD (the Secret Police), Lavrentiy Beria, millions more were simply “disappeared.” Beria is famous for the quote, “Show me the man and I’ll show you the crime,” a statement that will be discussed in the essay on Stalin and the protections guaranteed in the U.S. Constitution.

The Founders were rightly skeptical of what could happen when government power was not hemmed in by lawful constraints—and what happens when people are not able to debate and exercise true dissent. The warnings debated in the Federalist Papers were made manifest in the brutality of the Soviet Union’s Stalinist era and, frankly, through the oppressions of Nikita Khrushchev and Leonid Brezhnev, and other socialist leaders.

Andrew Langer is President of the Institute for Liberty, as well as Chairman and Founder of the Institute for Regulatory Analysis and Engagement. IFL is a non-profit advocacy organization focused on advancing free-market and limited government principles into public policy at all levels. IRAE is a non-profit academic and activist organization whose mission is to examine regulations and regulatory proposals, assess their economic and societal impacts, and offer expert commentary in order to create better public policies. Andrew has been involved in free-market and limited-government causes for more than 25 years, has testified before Congress nearly two dozen times, spoken to audiences across the United States, and has taught at the collegiate level.

A globally-recognized expert on the impact of regulation on business, Andrew is regularly called on to offer innovative solutions to the challenges of squaring public policy priorities with the impact and efficacy of those policies, as well as their unintended consequences. Prior to becoming President of IFL and founding IRAE, he was the principal regulatory affairs lobbyist for the National Federation of Independent Business, the nation’s largest small business association. As President of the Institute for Liberty, he became recognized as an expert on the Constitution, especially issues surrounding private property rights, free speech, abuse of power, and the concentration of power in the federal executive branch.

Andrew has had an extensive career in media—having appeared on television programs around the world. From 2017 to 2021, he hosted a highly-rated weekly program on WBAL NewsRadio 1090 in Baltimore (as well as serving as their principal fill-in host from 2011 until 2021), and has filled in for both nationally-syndicated and satellite radio programs. He also created and hosted several different podcasts—currently hosting Andrew and Jerry Save The World, with long-time colleague, Jerry Rogers.

He holds a Master’s Degree in Public Administration from Troy University and his degree from William & Mary is in International Relations.


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Guest Essayist: J. Eric Wise

The Red Army from the time of its formation through its incarnation as the Soviet Army and to the time of its collapse was forever fighting wars. From 1917 to 1922 the Red Army fought numerous civil wars for Soviet dominance of Russia, as well as the Polish-Soviet War to mop up the residual Polish state following the First World War.

But by 1922, the Soviet communists realized that a large army taxed the ambitions of the new Soviet state and so reduced the Red Army to a standing army of 800,000.

Leader of the Soviet Union, Joseph Stalin, would take this small army and build it to a strength of 29 million at the end of the Second World War. This massive army would after the Second World War become the Soviet Army which would be reduced to a leaner 11 million man army.

As the burden of maintaining a large land army grew, the Soviet Army shrunk to between 2.8 and 5.3 million. The final collapse of the Soviet Union occurred when the cost to the people of the Soviet Union of maintaining and equipping this army left them without consumer goods and in some cases necessities.

What is the key lesson of Stalin’s expansion of the military?

The first lesson, one supposes, is that war is not merely an instrument of the state but an instrument of the military. Stalin’s Soviet Union was perpetually at war. The Red Army battled Ukrainian insurgents, and was involved in the Spanish Civil War, the war in China, and fought with Japan. Before joining the Allies in the Second World War, the Soviet Army invaded Poland, partitioning it with Germany, and invaded Finland, with worse than mixed results. By the time of the German invasion of Operation Barbarossa, the Red Army was 6,000,000 men or more of whom a majority of whom were captured or killed by the invading army. The Red Army and then the Soviet Army served as a base of power for Soviet tyranny. And war was a means for the Red Army and the Soviet Army to demonstrate their importance to tyrannical power.

What can we as Americans learn from it?

Following the First World War, the United States promptly de-mobilized. The material prepared for war was scrapped and the United States Army was quickly reduced to a small corps of officers and enlisted men around which a larger army of citizen soldiers could later be built.

When the Second World War arrived, on December 7, 1941, the United States Armed forces numbered about 1.8 million. Four years later, in at the end of the war in 1945, the United States armed forces numbered approximately 12 million.

Following the Second World War, the United States armed forces were again demobilized, and by 1950 the core strength of the United States Army was about 600,000 men. With mobilization for the Korean War and the Vietnam War the armed forces of the United States numbered between 2.6 and 3.5 million. And following the Cold War the United States armed forces came down in strength to about 1.5 million men, the level it has remained for almost three decades.

President Dwight Eisenhower warned in his farewell address of a growing “Military-Industrial Complex” which threatened the liberties and prosperity of Americans. He meant that the military and the industries that supplied it had become their own interest group in American politics. The military and the industries supporting it promoted policies, and yes, wars, which served the interest of the military and the interests of power.

Abraham Lincoln, in his Lyceum Address, noted that “We find ourselves in the peaceful possession, of the fairest portion of the earth, as regards extent of territory…” He meant, among other things, that the United States is blessed to have a territory protected by two oceans and to have very little in the way of neighboring military threats.

It was this territorial advantage, as was noted in Federalist 29, which allowed the United States unlike European powers, to dispense with standing armies.

It is important to take pride in the patriots that serve our country in uniform. It is equally important to not conflate that pride with an empty nationalism that needlessly feeds a large military, a lesson Joseph Stalin teaches us.

Eric Wise is a partner in the law firm of Alston & Bird.



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Guest Essayist: Stephen Tootle

World War I, known as the “Great War” by contemporaries, tested whether a Constitution written in the 18th century could handle problems presented by the 20th. President Woodrow Wilson found himself frustrated by the constraints put upon him by the Founders—just as the Founders intended. By limiting the powers of the executive branch and creating structures rooted in pluralism, the foundational wisdom baked into the United States Constitution limited President Woodrow Wilson’s attempts to undermine and undo our political, diplomatic, and constitutional traditions. Although the executive branch has broad authority in foreign policy and during wartime, its powers are not limitless. Those constitutional limits became even more important when a war was global in scope and America had a President who resisted them.

President Wilson came into the presidency hostile to the idea of enacting the Constitution as written or intended.[1] Unlike any previous President (save perhaps Andrew Jackson when grumpy), Wilson believed that the only limit on presidential power was “his capacity” and that his control of foreign policy was “absolute.”[2] After his election in 1912, he could test those theories in earnest. When the Great War began in 1914, Wilson thought he had discovered a way to use the war to transform the world for the better.

According to Wilson, all wars could be prevented with a world association to protect borders, ensure government control of arms manufacturing, and prevent aggressive war for territorial gain.[3] Believing that he could create world peace, Wilson stretched his constitutional wartime powers to their limits. His administration imprisoned political opponents, censored authors, closed newspapers, commandeered whole sectors of the industrial and agricultural economy, and planned for a future peace agreement at odds with our history, politics, culture, and Constitution.

Wilson’s plan (according to him) required the mandate of the American people in the 1918 congressional elections. With that in mind, he explicitly attacked his opponents and asked Americans to “sustain” him and “say so in a way which it will not be possible to misunderstand.”[4] They answered, but their answer did not sustain him. Republicans took both houses of congress.

Undaunted by this rejection, Wilson negotiated the Treaty of Versailles and went to the Senate for its ratification. Congressional hearings revealed the unworkability and radicalism of the treaty. Americans had some common-sense questions about ditching their traditions. Would Americans be obligated to automatically fight and die in wars anywhere and everywhere to protect any border? Would the people and Congress no longer have a say in the declaration of war? Would foreign nations have sovereign authority over American foreign policy? Could foreign nations preclude the United States from maintaining military preparedness or anticipating threats? Would an international body interfere with the individual rights of Americans? As in any debate, good points mixed with frivolous and absurd ones as the politicians with varying interests delayed ratification. The treaty may have been ratified if Wilson had consented to protecting the Constitution, but he would not.  Wilson had said he would “consent to nothing” and that “the Senate must take its medicine.”[5] But that was simply not the case. Under the Constitution, the Senate would have its say.

President Wilson could command armies and negotiate the peace treaty, but the Constitution and its adherents ensured that he could not rule as a king or a dictator. The legislature—reflecting the conflicting interests and passions of the American people—used their constitutional powers to prevent Wilson from enacting his plans. In his last days in office Wilson lamented, “Men thought I had all the power. Would to God I had such power.”[6]

Modern readers may recoil at the abuses of the Wilson administration during the war, but someone with a broader global perspective should understand that the proper question should be, “Why were they not worse?” The pluralism inherent in our Constitution does not prevent evil from existing in the world—doing so would require

abolishing freedom– but it does check the spread of evils. Would-be dictators claiming the righteousness of their causes will always claim it is worth it to sacrifice our commitment to pluralism in the service of a grand solution to a grand problem. Our Founders understood that perfection in governance is an impossibility, but as Wilson’s example shows, even the would-be dictators can have their abuses limited. Despite Wilson’s machinations to the contrary, the Constitution limited his ambitions and left the United States standing firmly on its old foundation while the Old World Order collapsed.

Stephen Tootle is a Professor of History at the College of the Sequoias in Visalia, California and Honored Visiting Graduate Faculty in History and Government at Ashland University in Ashland, Ohio. His writings have appeared in National Review, Presidential Studies Quarterly, The Claremont Review of Books, The Journal of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era, and other publications. He gives talks on politics and political history for the Ashbrook Center and the Bill of Rights Institute and is the co-host of The Paper Trail Podcast, a weekly public affairs podcast published by the Sun-Gazette.



[3] Walter McDougall, Promised Land, Crusader State: The American Encounter with the World Since 1776, (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1997), 132.

[4] Woodrow Wilson, in John Morton Blum, Woodrow Wilson and the Politics of Morality, (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1956), 154-155.

[5] McDougall, 142.

[6] McDougall, 145.


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Guest Essayist: Thomas Bruscino

Federalist Papers 6 and 7 are at first glance an odd place to go when it comes to explaining the onset of World War I. Their topic is the threat of internal war among the states absent the adoption of the unified federal republic in the Constitution. But the fundamental principles expressed, especially that the “causes of hostility among nations are innumerable,” will resonate with generations of World War I students who have tried to catalogue the many causes of the Great War.

Publius’s point is that independent states will disagree about much and eventually fight over something. That was especially true in the semi-united states, with their close proximity to one another, the unclaimed and disputed lands to the west, their uneven economic power, and their shared and unshared debts. What is worse, in order to get an advantage in these disagreements, the states might enter into smaller alliances with each other or with European powers, thus becoming “prey to the artifices and machinations of powers equally the enemies of them all.”

Even the broadly democratic and commercial nature of the states would not help, despite the claims of “visionary or designing men, who stand ready to advocate the paradox of perpetual peace between the States, though dismembered and alienated from each other. The genius of republics (say they) is pacific; the spirit of commerce has a tendency to soften the manners of men, and to extinguish those inflammable humors which have so often kindled into wars. Commercial republics, like ours, will never be disposed to waste themselves in ruinous contentions with each other. They will be governed by mutual interest, and will cultivate a spirit of mutual amity and concord.”

If true, asserts Publius, then that should be true of all states, not just republics. But it wasn’t true. “Has it not, on the contrary, invariably been found that momentary passions, and immediate interest, have a more active and imperious control over human conduct than general or remote considerations of policy, utility or justice?”

There they are in Federalists 6 and 7, the many causes of the Great War laid out in principle: security and proximity, economic competition, domestic politics, imperial rivalries, confusing alliance politics, and honor and passion (in monarchies and democracies alike). Publius even anticipated and rejected the arguments of people like Ivan Bloch and Norman Angell that rational calculations about the destructiveness of warfare, especially in the interconnected modern economic world, would or should forestall war.

Given these great truths, Publius argued that the best hope for stopping war among the American states was to unite them under the proposed federal constitution. It did not always work—rebels literally drew states into a war against the nation. But it mostly worked. The overwhelming majority of the disputes among American states have not led to war.

Which leads to another question: was the proposed solution viable for the rest of the world’s nations? Did they just need to be gathered together in some sort of “Confederative Republic” to ensure peace?

In principle, maybe, and the principle is as far as Publius goes for the wider world. The Federalist Papers focused on the principles behind the best government for the United States, and on this issue they weren’t even sure the federal republic would work, let alone for the far more divided wider world. The Constitutional system Publius proposed was exceedingly fragile. That is why the principles elucidated in the rest of the Federalist Papers went far beyond the causes of war between states.

Perhaps that truth best resolves the seeming paradox of how Woodrow Wilson, an explicit critic of the Constitutional system, came to advocate for a seemingly Publius-like worldwide “Confederative Republic” in the League of Nations. Wilson wanted lasting peace among nations, and he believed that it was only possible if nations gathered together under a cooperative worldwide government of sorts. On its face, it appears that Wilson agreed with the principles of the Federalist Papers, but only on this narrow issue. But the Founders believed that the American Constitutional Republic only had a chance of preserving peace among the states if all of the principles undergirding it, those expressed across the Federalist Papers, remained in place.

Which brings us to Federalists 74 and 75, on the treaty making power of the president under the Constitution. For reasons explained in those documents, the executive needed a strong role in making treaties. As is often the case in the Federalist Papers, Publius argued for more expansive federal, and in this case, executive, power. But that was only because the countering argument gave exclusive power to the legislature. Publius never imagined that treaty making, or any other power, would go exclusively to the executive. There must be balance, or the whole fragile experiment would collapse.

This balancing principle, so essential to the Federalist Papers and the Constitution, Wilson could never abide. He wanted the power for himself. In this instance above all others, his reach exceeded his grasp. The Senate did not approve his treaty. The United States never entered the League.

The American decision to reject the League has been treated as a missed opportunity to preserve the fragile peace earned at Versailles. But Wilson was the master of his vision’s undoing, precisely because in envisioning the League he rejected the principles of the Federalist Papers. His League was not a balanced constitutional republic, but rather an oligarchy with the trappings of democracy, requiring the enlightened leadership of a few great men. First among those men, of course, would be Woodrow Wilson himself.

The League of Nations never had a chance to maintain peace, not because the United States foolishly rejected Wilson’s new utopian vision, but because the balanced American constitutional system saw it for what it was: an unbalanced system simultaneously so offensive to sovereign states and utterly toothless as to magnify all the worst rivalries among nations. It was the Old World Order made worse, with monarchies replaced by totalitarian dictatorships. Publius, in all of the Federalist Papers, knew better than to try that. Would that Woodrow Wilson have listened.

Thomas Bruscino is Associate Professor of History in the Department of Military Strategy, Planning, and Operations at the United States Army War College. He holds a Ph.D. in military history from Ohio University and has been a historian at the US Army Center of Military History in Washington, DC and the US Army Combat Studies Institute at Fort Leavenworth, and a professor at the US Army School of Advanced Military Studies. He is the author of A Nation Forged in War: How World War II Taught Americans to Get Along(University of Tennessee Press, 2010), and Out of Bounds: Transnational Sanctuary in Irregular Warfare (CSI Press, 2006), and numerous book chapters. His writings have appeared in the Claremont Review of Books, Army History, The New Criterion, Military Review, The Journal of Military History, White House Studies, War & Society, War in History, The Journal of America’s Military Past, Infinity Journal, Doublethink, Reviews in American History, Joint Force Quarterly, and Parameters.

The views and opinions presented are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of the U.S. Army War College, the U.S. Army, or the Department of Defense.


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Guest Essayist: Joerg Knipprath
Domenica del Corriere, Italian newspaper, drawing by Achille Beltrame depicting Gavrilo Princip assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria & his wife Sofie, in Sarajevo, Bosnia, June 28, 1914.

Supporters of the proposed United States Constitution of 1787 frequently warned that there was no mechanism under the Articles of Confederation to prevent what they saw as the inevitable commercial rivalries between the states from escalating into armed conflict. Such rivalries had begun to appear through protectionist trade laws enacted by various states. Another event was the dispute between Virginia and Maryland over fishing and navigation in Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac River. The end, the Federalists charged, would surely be the dissolution of the union into some number of quarreling confederations.

The Anti-federalists had several responses. First, Number IX of the Articles authorized Congress, on petition by any state, to provide for the appointment of a court to resolve any conflict between that state and another. Second, they pointed to the Mount Vernon Conference of 1785 which had settled those very divisive claims between Virginia and Maryland. Third, they declared that it was fanciful to claim that republics, especially those with commercial relations as close as those within the Confederation, would go to war with each other. The history of republics wagered against such eventualities, they asserted. As William Grayson, a moderate opponent of the Constitution, put forth at length before the Virginia ratifying convention, the states were bound by mutually reinforcing commercial bonds and interests. He sarcastically described the Federalists’ panicky and hyperbolic claims as predicting that Pennsylvania and Maryland would attack like Goths and Vandals of old, and that “the Carolinians, from the south, (mounted on alligators, I presume), are to come and destroy our cornfields, and eat up our little children!” Such specters were “ludicrous in the extreme.” Others repeated Grayson’s contentions even more forcefully, often combined with sneering attacks on the writers of The Federalist.

Alexander Hamilton, among others, rejected Grayson’s dismissal of the danger. In essay No. 6 of The Federalist, he asserted that immediate national interests, including economic advantage, are more likely to precipitate war than more general and remote objects, such as justice or dominion. He asked rhetorically,

“Have republics in practice been less addicted to war than monarchies?…Are not popular assemblies frequently subject to the impulses of rage , resentment, jealousy, avarice, and of other irregular and violent propensities?…Has commerce hitherto done any thing more than change the objects of war? Is not the love of wealth as domineering and enterprising a passion as that of power and glory? Have there not been as many wars founded upon commercial motives, since that has become the prevailing system of nations, as were before occasioned by the cupidity of territory or dominion?”

It was as to these questions that Hamilton invoked the guide of experience for answers.

That experience he found in the history of Sparta, Athens, Rome, and Carthage. All of them he classified as republics, the last two as commercial republics. He detailed the numerous ruinous wars in which they engaged. Moving forward in time, he then indicted the commercial republic of Venice for its wars in Italy and the 17th-century commercial Dutch Republic for its wars with England and France. Britain came in for scorn as particularly bellicose for commercial advantage. Worse yet, Hamilton charged, the king was at times dragged into wars he did not want, by “the cries of the nation and importunities of their representatives,” so that there have been “almost as many popular as royal wars.” He singled out wars for commercial advantage between Britain and France and Britain and Spain. One of those wars between Britain and France overthrew a network of alliances which had been made two decades earlier. He acidly asked, “Is it not time to awake from the deceitful dream of a golden age, and to adopt as a practical maxim for the direction of our political conduct, that we, as well as the other inhabitants of the globe, are yet remote from the happy empire of perfect wisdom and perfect virtue?”

In addition to commercial incentives for war, Hamilton pointed to personal motives of rulers and other prominent individuals, or to intrigues hatched by influential advisers, as prompting wars between republics. Thus he blamed the Peloponnesian War, so disastrous to Athens, on the personal motives of the great statesman Pericles. England’s ill-advised war with France Hamilton assigned to the machinations of Henry VIII’s chief minister, Cardinal Wolsey, and his pursuit of political influence.

Whatever the merits of Hamilton’s predictably slanted analysis of specific historical events, his message was that political theory disproved by experience is not a sound basis for public policy. A more recent scenario which fit his skepticism about pacific republics was the Great War from 1914 to 1918, which led to the collapse of the 19th-century European political order and to revolutionary political and social change. The antagonists were the Central Powers of Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Ottoman Turkey against the Triple Entente of Britain, France, and Russia. The latter group was eventually joined by Italy, Japan, and the United States. Of the major participants, Germany, Britain, France, and the United States were commercial and industrial powerhouses. They were also outright republics or had sufficient political power vested in parliamentary bodies to qualify as quasi-republican constitutional monarchies. Each also had substantial overseas territories, Britain by far the most. Of the rest, Russia and Japan were rising industrial and commercial nations. In particular, Germany and Britain had considerable commercial interaction, but it likely was exactly that commercial and colonial competition which the British saw as a threat. The prewar German naval buildup did nothing to calm British nerves.

There was also a complicated system of alliances which emerged shortly before the war. This reshuffling of international arrangements changed the dynamics of the relatively stable post-Napoleonic international order in Europe which had even survived disruptive processes of unification in Germany and Italy and disunion in the old Austrian Empire. True, there had been revolutionary tremors and limited wars, such as between Prussia and Denmark, and Prussia and Austria, and the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71. Skillful diplomacy, in particular by the German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck, had prevented any conflict of an existential nature from arising. Bismarck had isolated France after 1871 through alliances with Russia, Austria-Hungary, and Italy, first through the Three Emperors’ League, and then through the Triple Alliance of 1882 and the Reinsurance Treaty of 1887. Relations with Britain were preserved through family relationships and Britain’s preoccupation with her empire overseas. He had also smoothed frictions between the rival empires, Russia and Austria-Hungary, through the Congress of Berlin in 1878, and among various colonial powers through a conference in the same city in 1884.

Even after Bismarck was forced out of office, it appeared that strengthened international legal norms would prevent wars. International arbitrations settled disputes. Two Hague Conventions, the London Naval Conference of 1909, and the London Conference of 1912 convinced “the right kinds” of Europeans that large-scale war was anachronistic. The foreign offices of the various governments, staffed with forward-looking and educated internationalists, surely would extend the great-power stability of the 19th century’s Concert of Europe. Ignored was that these multinational conferences and conventions left some number of participants dissatisfied and nursing grudges. This was particularly true for the Balkan countries. While trying to establish their independence from the crumbling Ottoman Empire, they warred with the Turks, the Austro-Hungarians, and each other and resented their fates being controlled by larger powers. Over time, these perceived affronts to national honor during a time of heightened national consciousness overrode the rational self-interest served by commercial considerations. Moreover, various treaties and diplomatic agreements overlapped and indeed conflicted with each other. Alliances increasingly shifted around, which begot international uncertainty during an age of domestic demographic changes, increasing political militancy, and unequal industrial and technological prowess.

This new system of alliances had another potentially destabilizing element. It allowed the relatively weaker participants to act like big players on the international stage, counting on their more powerful allies to back them up. Instead, the bravado and exaggerated sense of national honor of less important states dragged the major powers into a disastrous conflict. Everything changed when a Bosnian Serb nationalist, supported by secret nationalist societies and Serbian military intelligence, assassinated the reform-minded presumptive heir to the Austrian throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and his wife in Sarajevo, Bosnia, on June 28, 1914.

After some delay, during which it was hoped that the assassination might become just another deplorable act that would result in an appropriate punishment for the captured perpetrators, the Austrians responded. Having received some halting assurances from the German government that they would back Austria-Hungary’s response to Serbia, the Austrians sent an ultimatum to the Serbs. Serbia only partially accepted the Austrian demands, mobilized its army, and briefly sent troops into Austro-Hungarian territory. In quick response, Austria began partial mobilization of its army and, on July 28, 1914, declared war on Serbia.

At this stage, the conflict might yet have become another limited skirmish. But the Russian government, some of whose ministers had been informed of the plot ahead of time and whose military intelligence likely helped the plotters, had promised the Serbs that Russia would come to Serbia’s aid against any attack by Austria-Hungary. When Austria-Hungary began partial mobilization, Russia within two days ordered full mobilization of its forces. Fearing the large number of Russian troops, Austria-Hungary in turn mobilized fully. Germany, coming to her ally’s assistance, did likewise on July 31, 1914. At the same time, Germany issued a demand of neutrality to Russia. When Russia failed to acquiesce, a state of war existed on August 1. France, pursuant to a treaty with Russia from 1892, had rejected German demands for neutrality and had ordered a general mobilization the previous day. On August 3, 1914, Germany declared war on France. Britain, pursuant to her treaty obligations to France under the Triple Entente of 1907, declared war on Germany on August 5, 1914, after the latter ignored Britain’s demands for withdrawal from occupied Belgium. Italy, as was her wont during 20th-century wars, initially refused to stand by her treaty obligations to Germany and Austria-Hungary and eventually switched sides to the Entente.

The war took on a dynamic of its own. Occasional peace feelers went nowhere, in part because of objections by military leaders. There was, however, another equally significant hurdle, namely, political opposition based on the respective publics’ sentiments that their sacrifices demanded something more than a muddled armistice. It must be remembered that the war initially was very popular and welcomed with an almost giddy celebration of patriotic zeal by the citizenry of the combatants. Hamilton’s observation about monarchs having “continued wars, contrary to their inclinations, and sometimes contrary to the real interests of the state” due to public pressure, was being realized.

The Great War, infelicitously dubbed “the war to end all wars,” ended in the collapse of the Ottoman, Russian, German, and Austro-Hungarian monarchies. It also severely damaged the British and French empires around the world. The revolutionary chaos it unleashed and the national resentments its end ignited soon produced totalitarian movements and another world war. The tens of millions killed in those wars and the even higher number murdered by those ideological totalitarian regimes during the 20th century are a grisly monument to man’s potential to do evil, often cheerfully. The war should have put paid to the conceit that the world of human self-interest and passion can be readily subordinated to a legal artifice designed by a cadre of internationalists. Such idealism sounds marvelous in a university faculty lounge or in a graduate seminar in international relations, but, as Margaret Thatcher observed, “The facts of life are conservative.”

As fundamental challenges to the post-World War II United States-led international order have arisen over the past two decades, much debate has erupted over what system will replace it. The current conflict in Europe has once again tested the notion that commercial relations will make war obsolete. Russia has been dissuaded neither by Western economic pressures and commercial ostracism nor the military aid by NATO to Ukraine from taking a course of action which her government and people see, rightly or wrongly, as important to their national identity. One hopes that these broader fundamental geopolitical changes, such as the apparent emergence of a multi-polar international order, do not lead to the type of destruction World War I caused a century ago. But such hopes must rest on diplomacy based on experience, not on smug nostrums about pacific republics or the bonds of commerce.

Joerg W. Knipprath is an expert on constitutional law, and member of the Southwestern Law School faculty. Professor Knipprath has been interviewed by print and broadcast media on a number of related topics ranging from recent U.S. Supreme Court decisions to presidential succession. He has written opinion pieces and articles on business and securities law as well as constitutional issues, and has focused his more recent research on the effect of judicial review on the evolution of constitutional law. He has also spoken on business law and contemporary constitutional issues before professional and community forums, and serves as a Constituting America Fellow.


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Guest Essayist: Samuel Postell

The United States Constitution created many precautions against disunion and faction, but did not provide a failsafe solution; throughout the antebellum period statesmanship, compromise, and institutional development secured union until slavery and secession shattered the union.

As was argued in the last essay, the framers embraced the principle of union and framed a representative system to combat faction and disunion. As the Anti-federalists became increasingly weak after the ratification of the Constitution, Washington’s administration pursued policies to bolster union.

The Constitution created institutions meant to draw the country together and to prevent factions from controlling governmental power as was done under the Articles of Confederation. Publius argued that the Constitution embraced a number of improvements from modern political science to perfect republican government and cement union. The tools from modern political science were enumerated in Federalist 9:

a. The regular distribution of power into distinct departments.

b. the introduction of legislative balances and checks.

c. the institution of courts composed of judges holding their offices during good behavior.

d. the representation of the people in the legislature by deputies of their own election.

e. the ENLARGEMENT of the ORBIT within which such systems are to revolve, either in respect to the dimensions of a single State or to the consolidation of several smaller States into one great Confederacy.

However, Publius argued that there were further Constitutional precautions to retain the “excellencies of republican government” and “lessen or avoid” its imperfections. Throughout The Federalist, Publius explains additional precautions woven into the constitutional structure. He points to “auxiliary precautions” to act as a sort of safety net to ensure that the violence of faction is limited if it penetrates any branch of the federal government. The term “auxiliary precautions” echoes an earlier formulation in James Madison’s essay Vices of our Political System written at the behest of George Washington before the Federal Convention. In that essay, Madison argues that the Articles allowed minority factions to overrun the state governments. The essay made the distinction between the great desideratum[1] (creating a sovereign neutral and powerful enough to stop injustice without becoming tyrannical) and the auxiliary desideratum (getting the noblest characters to be elected, rule, and act according to proper motives). Thus, the most important object of the Constitution is the creation of an impartial and limited federal government to secure rights, and a secondary object is to ensure that the system is administered by virtuous citizens. Although Madison argued that creating a limited impartial government was fundamental, the framers believed that no free government could be maintained without proper administration from good rulers. The auxiliary precautions of the Constitution attempt to mitigate the harm that a faction might inflict if it gains power.

As was argued in the last essay, an important aspect of securing an impartial government is distributing and maintaining the partitions of power, which requires that weak branches be fortified and strong branches be weakened. When Publius considers the branch that most needs fortified against, he settles upon the legislative because it was often the legislatures that dominated the state governments under the Articles. In Federalist 48, he arrives at the conclusion that “in a representative republic, where the executive magistracy is carefully limited both in the extent and duration of its power; and where the legislative power is exercised by an assembly, which is inspired by a supposed influence over the people with an intrepid confidence in its own strength; which is sufficiently numerous to feel all the passions which actuate a multitude; yet not so numerous as to be incapable of pursuing the objects of its passions, by means which reason prescribes; it is against the enterprising ambition of this department, that the people ought to indulge all their jealousy and exhaust all their precautions.” Notice the similarity between Publius’ description of a legislature in Federalist 48 and a faction in Federalist 10. A legislature has a “supposed influence over the people,” it is a joint assembly which gives it the convenience of “concert,” it is numerous and can become impassioned through proceedings, yet it is small enough to make plans to “approach its passion.” In other words, the legislature gives a faction the power to exact its designs if it can properly organize itself. Publius therefore sought to limit it with auxiliary precautions such as a bicameral house with short terms, staggered elections, and two relatively large bodies. Note that Publius’ assessment is almost the opposite of Alexis de Tocqueville’s, who fears a soft despot seizing executive power and capitalizing from the lack of civic virtue among the people.

Despite Publius’ fears about the legislature, throughout Washington’s first term it became clear that the legislature was too weak to organize itself and pursue an agenda; instead of driving legislation, it looked to the president. For instance, in 1791 Congress called upon Secretary of Treasury Alexander Hamilton to help frame economic legislation. The House spent several days debating the propriety of considering Hamilton’s economic plans but did not bother drafting or proposing any of its own. The numerous House of Representatives was so unorganized and heterogeneous that it was not capable of creating any bills to put on the floor for a vote. Perhaps Publius underestimated the natural strength of the legislature in large republics. Did he not understand the distinction between this federal legislature set over a large sphere and encompassing a variety of interests and the state legislatures encompassing small territories with homogenous interests under the Articles?

By Thomas Jefferson’s presidency the congress was no less dysfunctional. It was consensus that Congress was weak and it looked to the presidency or the cabinet to drive federal policy. How different was this arrangement from the oligarchies in the state legislatures Madison criticized under the Articles? How much safer were minority rights from factions under this Constitution where the executive wielded such power?

Why was the Congress so weak? President Jefferson noted that representatives “are not yet sufficiently aware of the necessity of accommodation and mutual sacrifice of opinion for conducting a numerous assembly.” An anecdote puts Jefferson’s criticism a bit more sharply: after Jefferson’s message in December of 1805 was referred to the committee of the whole, it took almost a full session to determine a single resolution. After the message was referred to the Committee of the Whole, a section on harbor defense was approved and turned to committee. The Committee on Defense determined measures, and then on January 23 the report was taken up by the Committee of the Whole. The Committee on Defense decided on a sum for harbor defense, the Committee of the Whole disagreed, then appointed a committee of two to call upon the president for more information. In February the discussion was resumed. The House passed two resolutions: one sum for harbors and one sum for gunboats. A committee was then appointed to draft a bill in accord with these resolutions. On April 15, the committee began its debate on the bill to appropriate the money for harbor defense. The process in 1805 led four different committees to discuss two resolutions for defense over the course of five months: and that was just one plank of a bill, considering one part of the president’s annual message, in just the House of Representatives! James Sterling Young notes that the biggest problem was that “Any legislator had the privilege of bringing forward, at any moment, such measures as suit his fancy; and any other legislator could postpone action on them indefinitely by the simple expedient of talking.”

In addition to institutional problems, the representatives lacked the revolutionary unity common at the time of the Founding. One representative noted, “The more I know of [two senators] the more I am impressed with the idea how unsuited they are ever to co-operate, never were two substances more completely adapted to make each other explode.” On one hand a New England representative claimed of his Southern colleagues that they were “accustomed to speak in the tone of masters” and that the Westerners had “a license of tongue incident to a wild and uncultivated state of society. With men of such states of mind and temperament, men educated in New England could have little pleasure in intercourse, less in controversy, and of course no sympathy.” A Southern representative remarked of his New England colleagues that “not one possesses the slightest tie of common interest or of common feeling with us.” In addition to feelings of discord, there were physical altercations brought about by the pains of living in common boarding houses. An incident is recorded in Miss Shields’ house when John Randolph, “pouring out a glass of wine, dashed it in [Rep. Willis] Alston’s face. Alston sent a decanter at his head in return, and these and similar missiles continued to fly to and fro, until there was much destruction of glassware.”

How were we to call ourselves a republic if the representative branch could not govern themselves at their own tables, let alone within the chambers of Congress? In Publius’ lifetime as in our own, Congress needed to develop institutional tools to overcome its weakness and become a functional branch of government. This was necessary if the ambition of the legislature was to become sufficient to check the ambition of the executive branch and preserve our republican form of government.

Throughout the Antebellum Period, Congress developed institutional tools which allowed it to enact legislation without relying solely on the executive branch for direction. The most important institutional changes from the American Revolution through the Antebellum Period were rules, committees, coalitions, compromise, and statesmanship through oratory. Although I will not have the length to discuss each development in depth, I will cover some of the most important developments in Congress throughout the Antebellum period.

Henry Clay was the most seminal figure in developing the institutional reforms which allowed Congress to assume the role of legislative leader. On November 4, 1811, Clay was elected Speaker of the House on his first day as a member and on the first ballot. He won seventy-five votes, while William Bibb won thirty-eight, and Nathaniel Macon won three. Mary Parker Follett remarks that “Clay was elected more than any other Speaker as leader of the House. Never before and only once since has a member been distinguished with the honor of an election to the chair upon his first appearance in the House.” The caucus that met before electing Clay Speaker was clear about its intentions. One of Clay’s partisans asserted that the House was in need of a Speaker who would “bridle” John Randolph. Another member said that “he (Randolph) disregards all rules.” Another man asserted that the Speaker “must be a man who can meet John Randolph on the floor or on the field, for he may have to do both.” Clay would eventually do both. One of Randolph’s favorite tactics was to bring his hunting dogs to the chamber where he would use them to intimidate other members and cause disruptions when proceedings were not to his liking. One of Clay’s very first acts as Speaker was to institute a rule barring animals from the chamber during business. In 1826 the two men dueled after Randolph insulted Clay, but both missed their marks, and unhurt met each other halfway to shake hands (something that the two could never manage to do politically).

Clay’s early rules were a sign of his prerogative as legislative leader: he believed that the majority in Congress, elected by a majority of the people, should be equipped with the tools to govern. This principle animated him throughout his congressional career, but also required that he attain more power as Speaker to silence the minority. Mary Parker Follett claims that Clay’s leadership aimed at producing order. She writes, “The new principles set forth during Clay’s long service were: first, the increase of the Speaker’s parliamentary power; secondly, the strengthening of his personal influence; and thirdly, the establishment of his position as a legislative leader.” Clay drew criticism as he increased his power but it was also clear that he was capable of passing policies that advanced the country into the boom of the industrial revolution.

The most radical change in the House of Representatives during the antebellum period was a change that still characterizes it today: the creation of standing committees to expedite business and develop policy expertise. Between the War of 1812 and the Civil War, the House increasingly relied on standing committees to debate and amend measures. As this reliance on standing committees steadily expanded, the House’s relationship with standing committees changed: measures were first referred to committee for consideration and only after being reported by committee were they debated by the full House. This expedited the law-making process because the Committee of the Whole allowed any member to debate on any bill and delay the majority; a liberty that the minority would slowly lose through the Clay Speakership. But how much did the committee structure grow during the Antebellum period? At the time of the Founding the House of Representatives had only one standing committee and relied on ad-hoc committees. By 1810 the House had 10 standing Committees. In 1816 the Senate established 12 permanent committees. By the Civil War the House had 39 standing committees and the Senate had 22.

The new developments in Congress ensured that independents like John Randolph would play an increasingly smaller role in policy-making and that coalitions would play an increasingly greater role. Henry Clay believed in a system animated by coalitions because he believed that such a system provided the opportunity for compromise and energy within the legislature. According to Clay, a coalition-led process of deliberation and choice, as opposed to a member-centered process, meant that creating consensus and collapsing distinctions about factious issues would be more common, and policies of pressing concern would be passed expeditiously. However, in organizing the Congress Henry Clay empowered it to act more efficiently. Did this new energetic Congress exceed the limitations Publius intended for the Federal Government?

In the early 1830s John Calhoun argued that the policies enacted by the energetic Congress harmed the interests of the minority; further, he argued that the people of a state should be able to nullify a federal law if its people deemed it oppressive. He argued that the energetic Congress, passing tariffs that harmed southerners and using federal funds for roads that empowered manufacturers at the expense of farmers, had wielded unchecked power to favor Northern interests. He wrote, “The Government of the absolute majority instead of the Government of the people is but the Government of the strongest interests; and when not efficiently checked, it is the most tyrannical and oppressive that can be devised.” He argued that the state of South Carolina should be able to nullify and ignore the Federal Tariff laws on imports. However, South Carolina never nullified the federal tariff; Andrew Jackson threatened to use the army to collect tariffs and congress passed a Force Bill allowing him to do so, and Henry Clay passed a Compromise Tariff which would reduce the tariff over time to appease the state of South Carolina.

The Southerners deemed tariff laws oppressive, but nothing stoked the flames of disunion more than Congressional action upon slavery in the territories. Although South Carolina never effectively nullified the federal tariff, over the next thirty years the Southern states developed a constitutional theory of secession to combat the power of Congress which they deemed oppressive of their property rights and economic interests. In 1850, Jefferson Davis declared in the Senate, “every breeze will bring to the marauding destroyers of southern rights the warning ‘Woe, woe to the riders who trample them down!’” He argued that Congress had used its power to the detriment of Southern interests, and that they deserved extra protection for slavery or they may secede from the union. Of slavery, he argued, “This is the most delicate species of property that is held: it is the property that is ambulative; property which must be held under special laws and police regulations to render it useful and profitable to the owner.” When Abraham Lincoln was elected, Jefferson Davis argued that Lincoln’s hostility toward the expansion of slavery allowed the Southern states to secede from the union. He argued “Secession belongs to a different class of remedies. It is to be justified upon the basis that the States are Sovereign. There was a time when none denied it.”

As Dr. Eric Sands articulated for this study, in his essay on the Civil War and consequences of secession, Lincoln argued that secession was unconstitutional and threatened the principle of self-government. He argued that there could be no form of republican government if the losers of an election were free to secede in order to avoid the consequences of unpopular political beliefs. He said that the union was Perpetual; he argued that the Constitution intended that the union endure forever, and that the doctrine of secession was contrary to the most fundamental premise of the Constitution.

However, Davis and others argued that over the course of the Antebellum Period, the federal government had expanded its Constitutional power and used those powers oppressively toward the interests of the slave states. Lincoln argued that Davis was wrong; States were not sovereigns under the Constitution, and the common interests of union superseded their individual interest in the expansion of slavery and the protection of slaves as property.

Despite the philosophic differences, it is clear that as Congress lost the ability to collapse differences through virtue and statesmanship, and promote union through compromise, the union was destined to dissolve. The framers admitted that this was the case; that representative self-government relied upon a functional representative branch of government that protected and advanced the interests of citizens. Is our Congress capable of compromise, statesmanship, and advancing our common interests today? Perhaps the tools that quelled disunion throughout the Antebellum period could help solve our congressional crisis today.

Samuel Postell serves as Executive Director of The Center for Liberty and Learning at the Founders Classical Academy of Lewisville, Texas. Mr. Postell graduated from Ashland University with undergraduate degrees in Politics and English. He earned his master’s degree in Political Thought from the University of Dallas and is working on his dissertation to complete his Ph.D. Mr. Postell is writing a book on Henry Clay and legislative statesmanship, a subject about which he frequently writes and publishes. He has also conducted studies for Ballotpedia and has frequently contributed to Law and Liberty and Constituting America. At Founders Classical Academy he teaches courses on Government and Economics, and has taught courses on American Literature and Rhetoric.

[1] Desideratum is Latin, meaning “thing desired.”


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Guest Essayist: Samuel Postell

In his First Inaugural Address, Abraham Lincoln argued that “the Union is much older than the Constitution.” What did Lincoln mean when he spoke of the Union? The Declaration of Independence explains that the Americans were “one people” because they were providentially, philosophically, and hence politically united. In addition to referring to the Americans as one people, it also references the American people using the collective “We.” Furthermore, the document calls itself a “unanimous” declaration of the “united” States of America. The authors saw the separate colonies as previously united, and unanimity implied that they were “of one mind.” In short, the Declaration expressed that the Americans were one people capable of governing themselves. Because the Americans were united as one people and were arbitrarily ruled by another, the Declaration asserts that they have a duty to assert their independence by appealing to their Creator and natural laws of justice. Therefore, the principle of union, the rallying cry of Abraham Lincoln, Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and George Washington, is one of the bedrock principles of the American founding.

Whereas the Declaration expresses the existence of unity at the time of the founding, many of the Federalist Papers contemplate the importance of a strong or firm union. For example, Federalist 9 asserts in its first line that “A FIRM Union will be of the utmost moment to the peace and liberty of the States, as a barrier against domestic faction and insurrection.” Additionally, Federalist 10 asserts that “Among the numerous advantages promised by a well-constructed union, none deserves to be more accurately developed than its tendency to break and control the violence of faction.” In other words, at the time of ratification, one of the most salutary effects of the United States Constitution was that it bolstered the existing unity between the American people and thereby combated faction and disunion. As discussed in previous essays, in Federalist 9 and 10, Publius argued that the particular kind of union created by the Constitution was the key to subverting the violence of faction, the primary vice of the political system under the Articles of Confederation.

But union was not only an important principle at the time of the signing of the Declaration and the ratification of the Constitution. The Declaration sets forth “self-evident truths” that are meant to guide the American people through time. The principles explicitly enumerated are “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” However, in Washington’s Farewell Address he emphasized the principle of “union” as that which secured the principles of the Declaration. In the Farewell Address, Washington counseled the American people: “The unity of government which constitutes you one people is also now dear to you. It is justly so; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence, the support of your tranquility at home, your peace abroad, of your safety, of your prosperity, of that very liberty which you so highly prize.” He told the people that “it is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the immense value of your national Union to your collective and individual happiness; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the palladium of your political safety and prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can in any event be abandoned; and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts.” In other words, Washington argued that union was the principle that secured the self-evident truths for which the Americans had fought in the Revolutionary War. According to Washington, the principle of union was necessary to secure the rights to life and liberty as well as the freedom to pursue happiness. Washington believed that if union failed, then the American experiment failed, and if the American experiment failed, then the prospect of liberty and self-government everywhere was in danger. Therefore, he urged the people to cherish the principle of union.

But why cherish union? Washington believed that patriotism and a dedication to union were necessary to preserve the blessings of the Revolution. For example, when he wrote to a society of Quakers who refused to defend the country in war, he told them that religious liberty was contingent upon the maintenance of the union. He wrote, “We have Reason to rejoice in the prospect that the present National Government, which by the favor of Divine Providence, was formed by the common Counsels, and peaceably established with the common consent of the People, will prove a blessing to every denomination of them. To render it such, my best endeavours shall not be wanting.” In the Farewell Address, Washington argued that the people ought to remain dedicated to the principle of union because “Citizens by birth or choice of a common country, that country has a right to concentrate your affections.” In other words, Washington argued that America was the common country of North, South, East coast, and unsettled West. Patriotism was a necessary virtue for men of all sections and all religious sects. Washington worried the rights for which men fought and died in the Revolution may be short lived without the virtue of patriotism and self-sacrifice for the principle of union.

Furthermore, Publius argued that the Americans were destined to become united. In Federalist 2, Publius argued that “Nothing is more certain than the indispensable necessity of Government.” But what kind of government was necessary? Publius argued that “It is well worthy of consideration therefore, whether it would conduce more to the interests of the people of America, that they should, to all general purposes, be one nation, under one federal government, than that they should divide themselves into separate confederacies, and give to each the head of each, the same kind of powers which they are advised to place in one national Government.” Publius believed that if the Constitution and the principle of union was rejected, then they would become like the “petty republics of Greece and Italy… kept in a state of perpetual vibration, between the extremes of tyranny and anarchy.” Publius foresaw that unless the Constitution be ratified and the principle of union secured, the country would become a loose confederacy like the European Union instead of a firm band of friends. Instead of creating a system of petty republics on the basis of confederacy, Publius argued that the Constitution would create a great republic on the basis of union. The Federalists argued that the constitutional union was fitting because the Americans had a common destiny, a common philosophy, and a common goal.

But why should the sections, which had different and contradictory economic interests, agree to subject themselves to a common government which would wield power? Isn’t it true that one section would, upon election, sometimes be given the opportunity to abuse their fellow country-men in different quarters, comprising different interests? Publius dealt with this problem in two ways. First, he argued that the American people were more similar than different. Second, the principle of federalism allowed the states to embrace their particular interests through state law, while allowing the federal government to legislate according to the “great and aggregate interests” of the country.

Publius argued that among the sections, the people were homogenous in their principles and character, even if they embraced different economic interests across the sections. He argued that Providence had prepared the American people for union. He wrote, “It has often given me pleasure to observe that Independent America was not composed of detached and distant territories, but that one connected, fertile, wide, spreading country was the portion of our western sons of liberty. Providence has in a particular manner blessed it with a wide variety of soils and productions, and watered it with innumerable streams for the delight and accommodation of its inhabitants.” Publius also remarked that “Providence has been pleased to give this one connected country, to one united people, a people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, attached to the same principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, and who, by their joint counsels, arms and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established their general Liberty and Independence.” In short, Publius argued that “This country and this people seem to have been made for each other.” In Federalist 2, Publius admitted that among the sections there were “slight shades of difference.” However, he argued that the common character and principles of the Americans trumped the consequential differences of economic interest across the sections. Furthermore, Publius and the Federalists believed that the American people would triumph over their differences through their common councils, given enough time.

However, Publius argued that the principle of federalism allowed for harmony in cases where the diversity of state interests clashed; by limiting the federal government to specific and enumerated purposes, the Constitution embraces the “slight shades of difference” among the states. For example, in Federalist 10, Publius makes a distinction between “local circumstances” and “national objects.” He argued that the representative must balance his attention to the local concerns of constituents and the “permanent and aggregate interests of the community.” He remarked that “the federal Constitution forms a happy combination in this respect; the great and aggregate interests being referred to the national, the local and the particular, to the state legislatures.” In other words, Publius believed that a limited government, embracing the principle of federalism, could unite American citizens in common matters while allowing the citizens of states to legislate according to their particular circumstances, habits, and interests.

But what was the alternative to union? One unpopular alternative among the Anti-federalists was the creation of a confederacy consisting of equal powers for each section of the union. In Federalist 5, Publius argued that the creation of a sectional confederacy was both impracticable and unwise. He predicted that the different sections would become jealous of the most powerful, and would scheme against their neighbors. Rather than cooperation, there would be competition between the sections. Rather than trust, there would be skepticism. Publius writes, “Distrust naturally creates distrust, and by nothing is good will and kind conduct more speedily changed, than by invidious jealousies and uncandid imputations.”

So, what was Publius’ solution to the different passions and interests that tended toward disunion? Publius’ most famous solution is the creation of the extended republic wherein the factions are multiplied, dispersed, and allowed to drown one another out. But also important is the way in which power is divided. The division of power is best explained in Federalist 51, where Publius explains that in the Constitutional system “ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” Publius first sought to quell factious differences by diminishing them through the extended sphere, but then sought to vent factious passions through the system of representation. The Constitution controls the violence of faction in a number of ways (the most important of which is the creation of an enlarged sphere, or a large republic), but here are four general ways the Constitutional system intended to deal with the difficulty of sectional faction by allowing “ambition to counteract ambition”:

  • First, the Constitution divides power between the state and federal government which allows local interests to pursue their ends without interfering with the self-government of other localities. The federal government and local government, each jealous of their powers, will compete for sovereignty through the courts and public forums.
  • Second, when federal legislative power is exercised, it is divided. This means majority factions cannot easily exact their designs because a bill must pass both houses.
  • Third, the Senate’s mode of election and representation are meant to balance the power of more populous states in the House.
  • Fourth, Publius imagined that representatives would “enlarge and refine public opinion” meaning that the representative would be less susceptible to the passions of local or sectional factions.

The Constitutional system successfully combated sectional faction under the pressures of the slavery question and Congress proved capable of balancing factious interests until states from the south rejected the Constitutional system and seceded from the union. In the next essay, I will consider how the Constitution and the Congress successfully combated the tendency toward disunion throughout the Antebellum period.

Samuel Postell serves as Executive Director of The Center for Liberty and Learning at the Founders Classical Academy of Lewisville, Texas. Mr. Postell graduated from Ashland University with undergraduate degrees in Politics and English. He earned his master’s degree in Political Thought from the University of Dallas and is working on his dissertation to complete his Ph.D. Mr. Postell is writing a book on Henry Clay and legislative statesmanship, a subject about which he frequently writes and publishes. He has also conducted studies for Ballotpedia and has frequently contributed to Law and Liberty and Constituting America. At Founders Cla