The question at the root of this book is whether history and political science have a message for the courts about how to treat American democracy. It turns out they do and what they say is extensive, important, and systematic. They put individual decisions in more significant contexts, and bring to the fore cases little thought about in their relationship to democracy.
Criticism of the Supreme Court need not be a matter of pure politics. This study looks for clear and shared premises that are deeper, more enduring, and important before evaluating the Roberts Court. This and subsequent chapters examine the Court’s work against the background of history, comparative law, political and social sciences, and jurisprudence.
The argument is simple. Since the founding of the United States, Americans have thought deeply about how to protect democracy in America and developed a set of prescriptions about how to do it. America projected those ideas onto the world stage, particularly after World War II, and many of them have been adopted as part of the constitutions of democratic states. As a result, they have been considered by foreign courts. That gives us the opportunity to review what happened to those ideas when they became part of constitutional law and whether those developments are encouraging—not out of any belief that we are bound to follow foreign courts, but in the scientific sense that their treatment provides a basis for predicting what similar choices would mean here. Political scientists have confirmed, modified, and added to those ideas while systematically examining the rise and fall of democratic governments. I examine what the Roberts Court has done against that background. Finally, I turn to the heated debate over how the Court should do its work, reaching the conclusion that the Court is bound by our Constitution to take these issues seriously. It is that combination of American thinking, foreign testing, scientific confirmation, and legal analysis of the role of the Court that provides a basis for evaluating the Roberts Court and seeing how seriously astray that Court has gone and the danger this poses to American democracy.
The implications for constitutional law, of what we can learn from history and political science after the Constitutional Convention, runs straight into arguments about the proper method of constitutional interpretation. Although that question has been debated at length, the answer here is simple and direct: everyone who participates in the American debate over constitutional interpretation uses some system or method that is based on assumptions about the demands of democracy—Scalia, Breyer, the conservatives and interpretivists, as well as the liberals and noninterpretivists. In effect the argument is based on false pretenses.
On that basis, the book challenges every aspect of conservative legal thought, its history, its ethnocentrism, its method of interpreting the Constitution, its values, and its democratic bona fides. Out of the chaos of the twentieth century, the book is designed to build a stronger vision of constitutional law that better accounts for the future of democracy in America, as well as the Founding Fathers’ thoughts, firmly grounded in a realistic understanding of the world we have been bequeathed.
The most basic definition of democracy is elective government. The question addressed in this study is what keeps elective government alive. Those who have addressed that question, however, have concluded that much more stringent standards are necessary. Since the different forms of democracy are parts of vicious as well as virtuous circles, it will become clear that not a lot depends on the definition. As electorates become less inclusive, pressures increase to turn democracies into more coercive and autocratic systems.
Part I explores American ideas about how to nurture and protect democracy so that it would survive. Once those ideas were exported and adopted abroad, much of the democratic world constrained at least some aspects of law by what may be necessary for democracy. Nevertheless, the Roberts Court and its predecessor, the Rehnquist Court, have not done so. Looking at other countries as well as our own will give us a basis for understanding what it would mean to constrain law by what is necessary for democracy and how those principles, with strong American roots, might have worked if the Roberts Court had been loyal to them.
Part II addresses what political scientists are telling us about why it is important to shape law by what democracy needs. Political and social scientists have studied the successes and failures of the many nations that have had some experience with democratic institutions. They have produced penetrating studies of individual countries, as well as comparative and statistical ones with large datasets. The results are as interesting and surprising as they are important.
Part III focuses on the Roberts Court and the Constitution. In chapter 9, based on the foundations laid in parts I and II, I address what the Roberts Court has actually done, consider how different its record could have been if it had taken our democratic legacy seriously, and assess the impact of the difference against the findings of political and social scientists about what leads democracies to fail. Sadly, it turns out that the Roberts Court has taken this country in directions that have proven deeply destabilizing to democratic governments elsewhere. Chapter 10 addresses what the Constitution has to say about taking the future of democracy seriously, and whether it is proper to interpret the Constitution with this information in mind.
Thus I will offer a tour of history, science, and law to evaluate the Roberts Court.
The rest of this chapter is devoted to ideas on protecting democracy from our earliest days as a nation.
As the Constitutional Convention of 1787 was finishing its work, a woman asked Benjamin Franklin whether the American people at the time had a republic or a monarchy. “A republic,” he responded, “if you can keep it.”1 The founders went well beyond faith in a bill of rights. They had to figure out how they could bring the country together and shape the population into one capable of managing self-government. They believed in the need to disperse both wealth and power and provide for an educated people. And they assumed that they needed unity, to encourage the population to mix, interact, and work together to develop the country for the benefit of all.
Success did not seem inevitable. Thirteen sparsely populated states were surrounded on three sides by British and Spanish forces and Native American tribes. The loyalty of settlers west of the mountains was in doubt. Those in power sought to keep it; the states were run by people with wealth, land, and connections who governed in an aristocratic manner, though in tension with revolutionary principles .
Wealthy patriots in Boston used armed criminal gangs to trigger the American Revolution. Participation by honest patriots made the demonstrations seem democratic, “the people out of doors,” a legitimate expression of popular will. After the war, wealthy men feared armed mobs. Shays’s Rebellion of farmers in western Massachusetts addressed the threat to their livelihood by judicial enforcement of stringent contract terms. It started as a demonstration, blocking or occupying buildings and closing courts so the farmers’ grievances would be heard. In their minds, government should respect popular sovereignty. Those with an aristocratic mind-set, however, perceived popular sovereignty as dangerous.
Many understood that Governor Bowdoin’s armed response had turned a relatively traditional popular attempt at self-rule into a shooting war. But Shays’s Rebellion became an organizing tool for a new, stronger union to control mobs, hotheads, and rebels. The aristocrats would get a promise of help against domestic insurrection in Article IV of the Constitution,2 while the French Revolution soon showed that popular revolution need not lead to democracy. In eighteenth-century thought, nothing was certain.
The overriding issue was to keep the new nation from shattering. Small states feared their larger neighbors; Southern states feared slaves, Native Americans, Spain, and westerners. They wanted guarantees against rebellion and invasion. But southerners also feared northerners would give away rights to the Mississippi by treaty, preventing southern expansion. Northerners feared the South would use the new nation to expand slavery, undermining liberty and “free labor.” Each feared commercial rules, fees, and taxes designed to favor a different region.
Their first assumption therefore was that they needed unity, to make one people out of many—e pluribus unum. In response they used politics, commerce, finance and education to bind the nation together.
Anti-Federalists argued that the country was too large and complex for a single central government. Differences of religion, language, national origin, ethnic background, and geography were enormous.3 Religious sects lived separately. Schooling was organized through churches. Towns and regions were settled by distinct language groups; English was far from universal.4 African and Native American slavery were increasingly divisive. James Madison and the Federalists replied that the size of the nation was an advantage because its diversity would force enlightened leaders, if not everyone, to rise above the pettiness of parochial interests. Integration at the electoral level would improve the politics of the new nation.5
But the Constitutional Convention did not rely on politics to integrate the nation. The Constitution protected citizens when out of their home states and supported commerce with post roads, uniform currency, weights and measures, commercial regulation and national courts.6 Educated colonists would have read Montesquieu’s remark that “commerce cures destructive prejudices.”7 It certainly forges ties. Aided by some theologians, commerce was also breaking down religious exclusiveness.8 The founding generation understood the advantages of these provisions for building the new nation.
The founding generation used education both to build democracy and tie the country together. It was the so-called Age of Enlightenment when people believed in the perfectibility of human institutions through education. By the end of the eighteenth century, a new American college opened its doors every two years. The founders thought training civic-minded people crucial because a democracy could be no better than its citizens. Education would help produce public-spirited citizens. Madison proposed a national university in the Constitutional Convention but it was left to the states. Franklin had already helped found the University of Pennsylvania and Jefferson would soon help found the University of Virginia.
Hamilton added finance: to make them loyal, he wanted the wealthy to rely on the new nation’s credit and make the new government central to commercial success. To do that, he created a national banking system and a federal debt. Both would tie investors to the success of the new nation.9 It was brilliant but partisan, powerful and contested—raising the specter that wealth could also be used against the general welfare.10
Focusing on travel, commerce, finance, and education, the founders consciously built the new nation and knit together its disparate parts.
The Constitutional Convention voted for a strong government. They chose a president rather than a cabinet or parliamentary system, and authorized lower federal courts to serve as our first federal bureaucracy. Nevertheless, they sought to control the powerful government they created by dispersing power within it. Their tools included elections, a broad suffrage, two houses in Congress, a president, and courts, each able to control the others. Checks and balances gave everyone a stake in the new nation and a defense against other regions.
Slavery dominated checks and balances. White Southerners got the ability to vote three-fifths of their slaves for representatives. Eighteenth-century calculation that an agricultural population would grow in proportion to the physical size of the states meant probable southern control of the House of Representatives. With two senators for each small New England state, the North got probable control of the Senate. Those two formulas were put together in the Electoral College for president, almost guaranteeing southern control of the White House. The census was the arbiter.11
Divide and conquer became high craft. The Constitutional Convention took the prejudices of language, faith, economics, and geography and enveloped them in the larger nation. Large electoral districts encouraged broader perspectives. Different constituencies for the two houses, the president, and the courts fostered different perspectives. The misbehavior of any branch of government met a complex system of checks and balances.12
Thus their second assumption was that dispersing power would prevent abuse. It was brilliant, and later generations would extend their effort to disperse power in order to deal with new forms of concentrated power—although we would later learn how checks and balances can be used to entrench autocratic power.
As states deliberated over ratification of the Constitution, they focused on the powers of the new government. Urging ratification in a New York paper, James Madison wrote that it is necessary, “first [to] enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself.”13 Unsatisfied, several states requested a Bill of Rights, which was adopted shortly after and states some of the conditions for a properly functioning democratic system. As Charles Black famously wrote, Americans would have had to invent a First Amendment to make democracy work if it were not already there. Justice Hugo Black decided that democracy required equally apportioned congressional districting, regardless of whether the equal protection clause applied. Their view is functional; these protections are necessary for elections to do their job. Widely used definitions of democracy in political science, the international community, and famous indexes of democracy include respect for the kind of political freedoms found in the American Constitution because we understand they are necessary for a truly democratic system of government.14
The founding generation understood that the most fundamental freedom was the right to vote, that democracy is impossible without political rights. The phrase right of association had not yet been created but they clearly understood the rights of speech, press, assembly, and petition were crucial political rights. They would have added freedom of conscience, including religious freedom, as essential for democracy. In succeeding centuries, it has become clear that freedom of speech and association help secure the loyalty of diverse groups. We owe the founding generation the understanding that these individual rights are collectively essential to the working of a democracy.15
The due process clause of the Bill of Rights—later also included in the Fourteenth Amendment—requires action according to law, passed by the legislature, not by whim, decree, vigilantes, or mobs. It offers protection against torture and coercion, seizures of persons and property, “disappearances,” and political murder, all of which are sometimes aimed at altering political power.16
The Bill of Rights responded to British censorship and abuse17 in favor of the public and against any authority that would seek to control it.18 After the Civil War, Congress reacted to political repression and the abuse of the criminal process in the defeated states, writing and passing the Fourteenth Amendment to make the provisions of the Bill of Rights applicable throughout the country. The Bill of Rights was still a fighting faith, a political cause.
Modern democracies have lived through eras of enormous corruption that undercut protected rights, including tampering with the ballot box and political parceling of jobs and economic benefits. Corruption waxes and wanes with the ethics of partisan political officials, but it becomes too much when it threatens ordinary citizens with retribution for their political choices or locks up the political process in favor of one party.19
Federalists, supporters of the new Constitution, dismissed bills of rights as mere parchment guarantees, impotent against tyrants and demagogues. When the Adams administration passed the Alien and Sedition Acts, Jefferson and Madison turned to the state legislatures and the election of 1800 for repeal, rather than to the courts, which were staffed by Adams’s Federalist appointees. Those paper guarantees helped people rally around their principles. The Constitution was protected by democratic culture and the dispersal of power. Supreme Court enforcement of the Bill of Rights was still a century in the future.
Thus the founders’ third assumption was that it remained a question whether a bill of rights would help to protect freedom and democracy.
The legal tradition is important; it represents a glowing galaxy in the American science of democracy and a major legacy of the great eras of American Constitution-building in 1787–91 and 1866–71. But the legal tradition is not sufficient. Protecting constitutional rights, and the willingness of the republic to keep and honor those rules, goes well beyond declarations of rights. It requires people with the honor and the courage to enforce them. It requires those with power to stay their hands rather than hold democracy hostage to their own personal or partisan gains.
Harnessing good motives was part of the struggle over federalism. Nationalists feared loyalty to state governments. Madison urged that a cosmopolitan, diverse public, created strong incentives to treat all with respect, often favoring national over local politics. Slavery was his prime example of how unfair state politics could be. Yet it is easier for most of Americans to have their say in towns, cities, and state governments. For many Americans, state government seemed closer, more democratic, and trustworthier than a distant federal one.20
Rather than resolve this argument, the Convention gave us both. Yet the delegates in the Convention had little to say about principles of federalism. They argued endlessly about how states would be represented in the new government, but were almost mute about the meaning of national powers and laid down no principles of federalism except the set of overlapping grants of largely undiscussed and unexplained powers. The only principle enunciated was in the draft that instructed the Committee of Detail what powers to insert and that became the familiar powers of Congress. Those instructions read: “Resolved, That the Legislature of the United States ought to possess the legislative Rights vested in Congress by the Confederation; and moreover to legislate in all Cases for the general Interests of the Union, and also in those Cases to which the States are separately incompetent, or in which the Harmony of the United States may be interrupted by the Exercise of individual Legislation.”21 Thus their fourth assumption was that they could get the benefits of both national and state governments with something like a functional division of responsibilities, so that each level of government could accomplish what it needed to do.
Among their largest concerns was the threat of standing armies. Their principal hope was that standing armies would be minimal except in wartime. Guns might be necessary against slaves, Native Americans, French, Spanish, or British soldiers.22 Guns, however, could also be turned on the people, on local, state, and national governments, or on men of wealth and their estates. Elbridge Gerry suggested limiting the size of armies that the country could maintain in times of peace. Tradition credits George Washington with suggesting in response a limit on the number of troops a foreign enemy would be permitted to land on American shores. Gerry’s proposal failed. But the delegates tried to disperse military power by giving Congress (as part of civilian control) the power to regulate the state militia,23 to control the privatization of warfare,24 and to decide whether to wage war.
Thus their fifth assumption was that they could control the military by shifting power to civilian authorities. But the survival of democracy depends in large part on whether civilian control survives. The problem is to assure that the military, the folks with the firepower, will obey civilian commands. A military so inclined could oust civilian authorities, the secretary of defense and the president. Or it can support an executive coup d’état ousting the legislature. The president can promote officers. By choosing officers based on individual loyalty, presidents of some countries were able to scrap their constitutions. In some the military became so incensed by executive choices that it deposed the president. Either way, democracy lost.
Instead of a standing army, the founders championed a trained and organized citizen militia, which could respond when needed, over the full-time soldiers whom the founders thought dangerous. Sam Adams thought an inclusive militia much safer than standing armies or a select, upper-crust militia, either of which would “feel a distinct interest from that of our fellow-citizens at large.” He argued for mixing people together: “No man I should think, who possesses a true republican spirit, would decline to rank with his fellow-citizens, on the fancied idea of a superiority in circumstances: This might tend to introduce fatal distinctions in our country.” Adams wanted an integrated militia for the sake of America: “The great principles of our present militia system are undoubtedly good, constituting one simple body, and embracing so great a proportion of the citizens as will prevent a separate interest among them, inconsistent with the welfare of the whole.”25
The new nation did create a regular army, but its officers reflected a broad cross section of America, which many credit with helping keep the army out of party politics.26 Militias and private armies outside of government authority posed serious risks in the eyes of the founders. They could turn into mobs that would threaten the peace and good order of the society. Only “well-regulated” militias were part of the constitutional design, and Congress was given the power to specify how. The founders had no romantic notion of men under arms in any form.
In simple language that the founders would have applauded: power, in all its forms, needs to be accountable, monitored, and controlled.
Gouverneur Morris, whose family owned much of the Bronx, rose on his peg leg to warn his fellow delegates in the Constitutional Convention that he feared the absence of property qualifications for voters would lead to an aristocracy: “Give the votes to people who have no property, and they will sell them to the rich who will be able to buy them.” Political parties would prove something like that point in the nineteenth century, paying the poor and immigrants for their votes. Morris went on: “The time is not distant when this Country will abound with mechanics & manufacturers who will receive their bread from their employers.” He feared that their employers would control their votes. “The man who does not give his vote freely is not represented. It is the man who dictates the vote.”27
Freedom depended on economic independence, particularly before the secret ballot. Jefferson famously celebrated yeoman farmers as central to democracy. The independence of farmers meant they would vote their own opinions instead of their masters’ and would resist excessive government.28
Control over the votes of others concentrates power. Madison worked to moderate holdings of property; “unnecessary opportunities . . . to increase the inequality of property by an immoderate, and especially unmerited, accumulation of riches . . . [should be avoided] [b]y the silent operation of laws, which, without violating the rights of property, reduce extreme wealth towards a state of mediocrity, and raise extreme indigence towards a state of comfort.”29 Tyranny was concentrated power; the founders feared it.30
Speculators sought large fortunes by gobbling and colonizing western lands. Large colonial land grants affronted Americans who believed land belonged to those who worked it. Still, enough land remained to challenge Old World–style aristocracy and buttress government by consent.31 Just in case, tax, inheritance and other laws, were designed to meet Madison’s injunction to “reduce extreme wealth towards . . . mediocrity, and raise extreme indigence towards . . . comfort.” Despite inconsistencies, parts of the Constitution made little sense except on the understanding that all men are created equal.32
While the Constitutional Convention was underway in Philadelphia, Congress—working under the Articles of Confederation and meeting in New York—passed the Northwest Ordinance, shaping the future states of Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, and part of Minnesota. The ordinance laid the new lands into small plots with provision for a school in each new town. Some might get rich on the development of the western lands, but settlement and ownership would be in small holdings of ordinary Americans.33
Meanwhile, the Convention addressed private economic power in Philadelphia. Some wanted to tax luxuries; others thought it was included in the power to tax.34 The Convention protected property against state, but not federal, “Law[s] impairing the Obligation of Contracts,” a restriction understood very narrowly.35 It prohibited aristocratic positions, authorized restriction of the slave trade and some state monopolies, and prohibited some legislation targeted at states, sections, or individuals. Meanwhile, states quickly eliminated provisions of English common law which kept large familial estates intact.36
Later the federal Homestead Act of 1862 promoted still wider distribution of property by offering federal land for the price of working a farm across the Mississippi to people whose only capital was their bare hands and the will to clear and settle the territory. The statute also provided for land grant colleges, which would spread the benefits of education around the country.37
Farming interests now often conflict with the needs of other Americans; and the independence of small farmers has been undermined both by large farm corporations and the highly leveraged financing of agriculture. The distinctive value of independent farmers for Jefferson and Morris was their role in eighteenth-century America. Their more enduring point was the importance of financial independence to the maintenance of democratic institutions. Dispersal of property helps balance power.
The founders’ sympathy toward property qualifications now seems elitist, creating government of, for, and by property. Reality is more complex. Eighteenth-century property qualifications often expanded suffrage by including owners with modest holdings. The majority of the white male population could vote and states continued to extend the ballot to more of the voting age population. By 1825 property qualifications had largely disappeared.38
Thus the sixth working assumption of the founders was that dispersion of wealth as well as power was important for the democratic process. Disparities of wealth threaten the democratic process, both by motivating rebellion, and by facilitating the misuse of impoverished and dependent masses for rigging, buying, and stealing elections.
The founders left us a legacy of antagonism to large aggregations of power, and an effort to give the great mass of Americans control over their governments, in the face of repeated counterefforts to keep the money flowing. The founders’ legacy included their insight on the relation of economics and democracy but they left no generic constitutional language on the “inequality of property.” Subsequent generations would fight over economic issues without constitutional rules, to free the slaves, make suffrage universal, provide living wages, and substitute a safety net for the opportunities of the frontier and party patronage.
The founders’ concerns about dispersing power gave rise to competing traditions. The deliberative tradition seeks wise public officials, who are beholden to none. The egalitarian tradition favors wide distribution of resources so that voters can act independently. Pluralism is the hypothesis that the more different groups compete in politics the more likely that politics will be fair. With fluid alliances, politics becomes the art of compromising and sharing benefits and burdens. When allegiances harden and polarize, politics becomes a contest of dominant and subjugated groups.39
For the founding generation, liberty was shared, social, and nearly synonymous with self-government.40 To be a free man was to have the right to self-government—not freedom from government, but freedom to participate in government. Constitutional protections were designed to prevent using the criminal and civil laws to distort the political system, as England had. Liberty protected the people from domination by usurpers; it was not private.
Delegates to the Constitutional Convention described the “genius of the people” as “republican” and realized they had to respect popular feelings about who could vote. Hamilton’s promonarchy speech fell on deaf ears. But the delegates knew democracy would prove only as good as its people. A selfish public would not support a joint effort for the general welfare, instead of individual and short-term gains. Dispersion of power, loyalty of the wealthy, and a legal tradition alone would not protect democracy.41
The “genius of the people” was not a genius gene. It was a product of the context in which they found themselves. Able to govern themselves, why would people be fair? That problem haunted the founders. Rivalries abounded among competing economic and religious groups. Legislative seats were routinely malapportioned and gerrymandered to benefit those in power. What would prevent one faction from oppressing or disenfranchising another?
Because the people are the masters, the survival of self-government and respect for the rights of temporary or long-standing minorities depend on public virtue. Therefore the people’s character was better protection for democracy and liberty than lists of legal rights. Subsequent generations must be brought up as republicans and imbued with republican principles, including commitment to representative government and respect for its decisions, commitment to public service and dedication to the general welfare, together with an egalitarian, antiaristocratic spirit.42 To preserve that character and protect the nation the founders had created, subsequent generations had to have appropriate education, which required more and better schools.43 Their seventh basic assumption was that dedication to republican principles and the education to sustain them were necessary to the success of popular government.
Along with public virtue, the founders expected education to teach the skills needed for people to take a responsible part in public discussion. The tools for thought and argument that they described included philosophy, logic, and an appreciation of the fundamentals of sound and unsound arguments.44 Educated men were also expected to speak several languages.
Indoctrinating students remained important but changed as the assimilation of immigrants became a major issue in the late nineteenth century.45 Rituals, pledges, songs, and history were increasingly scrutinized to ensure that children would not question America’s superiority to other countries and cultures. In the twentieth century, schools were charged with providing every child with equal opportunity and training them to obey the law. Many school systems lost sight of the founders’ purpose to educate students to take part in democratic government, in favor of educating students not to make trouble.46
Alexis de Tocqueville, a French nobleman, traveled through the United States in 1831 and 1832 to understand the implications for France of the growing popularity of democracy. Tocqueville feared that Europe would lose its greatest assets in the process of democratization. Yet he predicted that America would become a preeminent world power, and predicted its twentieth-century conflict with Russia. Tocqueville’s concerns did not cloud his vision.47
In DEMOCRACY IN AMERICA, Tocqueville described four factors as essential for democracy: widespread economic well-being, independent organizations to channel public opinion sensibly, decentralization, and a democratic political culture.
He kept coming back to the political culture’s rarely deferential leveling spirit, although slavery remained a challenge to republican ideology. Everyone thought himself a judge of everything. Egalitarianism prevented money and power from taking over and the development of an inherited aristocracy; it also unleashed the energy, productivity, and ability of the great mass of Americans to govern themselves. The few could not control America because all American institutions and customs attacked power as democracy’s enemy. The Frenchman absorbed the American view that the relatively equal distribution of land supported democracy. He believed that for men to be reasonably equal in any respect, they had to be equal in all.48
Tocqueville wrote at length about what he called “self-interest rightly understood.” Americans understood that their individual interests were bound up with the whole. To understand one’s self-interest “rightly” required concern for the general welfare; that provided a kind of altruism in action that Tocqueville admired.
Although egalitarianism and individualism were essential, they were also dangerous.49 Tocqueville wondered what kept equality in check. Without the guiding hand of an aristocracy, America would function like a mob. Without the training to deal with complex issues, it would decide based on trivia and threaten to destroy the very institutions that protected it. In effect, too much individualism could render everyone equally impotent against the passions of others, until they surge with the confidence of a hotheaded multitude.
Tocqueville noticed that Americans were joiners who believed in collective action, and created associations for almost every object in life. He hoped those associations would be the steady hand America needed, and break the mass down from a mob to more thoughtful voices. The America he observed was collectivist as well as individualistic. It had conquered government in order to use it. Tocqueville celebrated them all: American individualism, the collectivism that tempered its faults, and the equality crucial to both. He might have added that liquor was the necessary solvent, as large southern planters like Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and others, entertained their neighborhoods in exchange for votes.
Many of the participants in Jefferson’s victory in 1800 saw it in egalitarian terms. Jefferson understood the political advantages of merchants and manufacturers: “Their wealth is . . . greatly superior. . . . They all live in cities, together, and can act in a body readily and at all times. . . . The agricultural interest is dispersed over a great extent of country [and] have little means of communication with each other.”50
Parties balanced their power, so he joined Madison to create the Democratic-Republicans. He worried that the commercial classes had become “Monocrats” who opposed republican principles and might attack the representative system or disenfranchise most of the population in order to control elections and policies in favor of the very wealthy. Farmers, tradesmen, and others with local callings would be largely unrepresented and unheard without parties. Thus Jefferson and Madison turned a struggle between northern and southern elites into a referendum on the concentration of power.
Wealth also mattered at the polls. In many states, people originally voted aloud. Where people placed paper ballots in a box, political machines learned to hand out visually distinct, often color-coded printed ballots to make identifying voters easy so they could be rewarded with bribes or punished with beatings.51 Large landlords in the Hudson Valley controlled their tenants’ votes before the so-called rent wars ended their power.52
Benjamin Leigh told Virginians in 1829, either “property will purchase power, or power will take property.”53 The wealthy tell themselves their privileges are good for everyone. Slaveholders described slavery as good for the slaves, and the slaves as happy.54 Landowners, politicians, businessmen, and corporations rise not by sharing power but by seizing it. Their perquisites continually challenge Americans who have a more egalitarian, republican spirit.
In the first half of the nineteenth century, Horace Mann and his generation remade American education to integrate people, especially rich and poor, effectively using schools to educate students in republican principles of equality. The “genius of the people” was partly a conscious effort.55 Racial integration was the end product of this lengthy tradition.
Southern states challenged republican ideology in order to protect slavery. They attempted to interpose states’ rights and a theory of concurrent majority, actually a veto by a minority of states. Southern resistance to majority rule and equal rights led to Civil War and the civil rights movement (although generations of American children were indoctrinated in a different understanding of the Civil War designed to whitewash the Southern and blacken the Northern roles).
Americans repeatedly challenged tools of concentrated wealth or power. Originally, specific legislative grants awarded monopolies and corporate charters for schools, bridges, or banks. In the Jackson era states substituted general corporation laws specifying rules for who could have a corporate charter. Corporate charters no longer implied monopoly. Nicholas Biddle, running the U.S. Bank, threatened economic implosion if it was attacked. Jackson terminated the bank. Jackson’s ideological point was rejection of the bank’s concentrated power.
Jacksonians took credit for democratizing government service, believing it required no special expertise, and that too much power had been placed in the hands of wealthy elites.56 In response, Jacksonians built on the political use of patronage in government offices, and so are blamed for the spoils system. At the same time, political parties started making decisions in large open-air gatherings of supporters, replacing meetings among officeholders.
The party system developed before the Civil War to counterbalance economic elites. At the time of his death during the war, former President Martin Van Buren was writing a book in support of the two-party system. Expanding on Jefferson’s insight, Van Buren explained that if one party dominates, everyone joins, blurring friends and opponents, and it would be dominated by the wealthy elites who would rule in the absence of parties. Contest drives the parties to define positions and supporters.57
The parties changed what social scientists refer to as the collective action problem. Large unorganized masses have no good way to exert power. Parties created organizations that people could use to exert power. Madison had asked who guards the guardians. By the late nineteenth century, parties had themselves become nodes of corruption. As parties learned to control the franchise and the ballot box, Americans sought to democratize them. The primary system became one of the main legacies of the Progressive movement.58
Americans in the late nineteenth-century Gilded Age fought a parallel battle over economic power. Stockholders of the Union Pacific bribed congressmen with shares in their construction company, Credit Mobilier, in return for federal subsidies and huge profits. Corporations created company towns and hired boatloads of immigrants to dig in the mines or work in the factories. Workers had to vote by paper ballot, with supervisors looking at their ballots. Voting against the company risked losing a job. Where employers owned their homes, jobless workers would be homeless. If workers were paid in scrip—that is, company money redeemable only at a company store—anything left in their pockets was useless elsewhere. So they voted their employers’ preferences. What corporate power had not decided at the polls, it finalized by cutting politicians in on the wealth. In states like Kentucky and West Virginia, a single corporation or industry controlled the land, business, and politics. In such circumstances, company preferences became state policy; wealth dominated politics.59 Even short of that level of control, many found it difficult to turn their bosses down because there could be repercussions.
When West Virginia separated from Virginia during the Civil War, it originally abandoned the Virginia practice of voting aloud precisely because “open voting gave advantages to persons in positions of power, such as employers and creditors, and intimidated those of lesser means or weaker fabric.” A decade later West Virginia restored open voting. To avoid a public outcry, it made an “open, sealed, or secret ballot” optional. The West Virginia Constitution still preserves the “right” to vote by open ballot, although it also asserts that one also has the right to vote by secret ballot. Whether that right is enforceable depends on the pressures tolerated in the community.60
The battle against concentrated power is continuous. New protections for the secret ballot were enacted around 1900, especially preprinted ballots listing all candidates and parties and not easily distinguishable at the polls. Still, party machines figured out how to identify voters’ choices, based partly on the availability of economically vulnerable people as enforcers or supporters. Numerous provisions in state law to prevent violation of ballot secrecy testify to the continuing threat to bribe or threaten voters.
Efforts to regulate corporate abuse grew through the nineteenth century. Regulation of working conditions and child labor were thwarted by competition from businesses in states without similar regulation, but the Supreme Court largely blocked national intervention before 1937. Railroads with local route monopolies charged farmers heavily but states had little power over interstate rails. In 1887, Congress established the Interstate Commerce Commission with control over rates of interstate carriers. It was abolished in 1995 after being accused of favoring trucking over railroads and being captured by industry.61 The growth of corporate conglomerates and holding companies called trusts led to antitrust law that prohibited combinations and conspiracies in restraint of trade. The Sherman Antitrust Act of 1890 pioneered the control of corporate power. Subsequent legislation attacked price discrimination that lessened competition and created the Federal Trade Commission to regulate unfair practices.62
On the eve of World War I, Americans responded to “the curse of bigness.”63 Progressives like Louis D. Brandeis, a Wilson Supreme Court appointee, wanted to preserve American creativity through small, flexible enterprise; he attacked large business for using its power to eliminate competition and for being a menace to democracy, threatening to overwhelm citizens, and even states and political parties. President Theodore Roosevelt argued for an estate tax because concentrations of wealth ran counter to the ethos and the health of American democracy.64
Once the objections of the Supreme Court were overcome in 1937, the federal government played a larger role in controlling corporate power and defending the economic rights of ordinary citizens.65 Unions became a popular means to counter corporate power. Later, when unions seemed to wield inordinate power, Americans became disenchanted with them as well.
New Deal and subsequent legislation attempted to defend family farms. Individual farmers still appeared to fit Jefferson’s characterization as the backbone of democracy; although, once major corporations learned to get most of the funds, federal subsidies no longer served family farms well. Americans continue to challenge ever-changing and apparently never-ending subsidies for large business, from the infamous oil depletion allowance to a smorgasbord of other tax benefits.66
In the late twentieth century, public attention returned to the role of money in politics. States attacked the purchase of votes as early as 1776. Prohibition of corporate donations to political campaigns dates back to 1890. In 1907 the federal government prohibited campaign contributions by federally chartered banks and corporations. Other campaign limitations were passed in 1910. Senator Tillman argued that members of Congress should not be “instrumentalities and agents of corporations.” Economic power was out of place in self-government.67
New campaign finance regulation was passed in the wake of the burglary of the Democratic campaign headquarters by people working with the campaign to reelect President Nixon. The Supreme Court originally accepted most of the legislation to prevent money from corrupting American politics. Discovery of loopholes alternated with rounds of legislation to close them. Congress’s regulatory efforts never entirely banished opportunities to make politicians feel indebted.68 In 2010, the Court recognized a constitutional right for corporations to use their corporate treasuries on political campaigns, making a century of restrictions unconstitutional.69
Americans have not attacked all inequalities. Hard work and good ideas justify reward. Americans internalize a balance between inequalities and their uses that seem fair and those that do not. The extremes—communism and corporate control of politics—are unacceptable. Those whose economic arithmetic sees only one set of benefits, equality or corporate freedom, erase this American tradition.
Americans repeatedly lecture other countries that democracy cannot take root where land is so concentrated that nations are divided into powerful landholders and powerless peasants. African poverty has led men to rebel armies for food, booty from victims, or the oil, diamonds, or ivory they can seize. The defense of privilege has led men to make war and murder political opponents in Latin America, while poverty has led some to declare war on the privileged and others to staff so-called death squads and torture their own people in order to make a living. Poverty and privilege have repeatedly defeated self-government. Looking abroad, Americans have seen that most clearly.
At home, Americans have found that the balance of power is dynamic, unstable, and always changing, so that the battle for a republican society has to be continually refought; there is no permanent solution.
In one tradition or another, character, democracy, ideology, and the structure of the American economy were all bound together with the spirit and the extent of equality. Tocqueville, who came to the United States specifically to study its government, had put his finger on a major constituent of American democracy, and a large part of Americans’ understanding of their own condition. The democratizing urge that drove American education, the party system, the Homestead Act and the Progressive movement, also underlay antitrust and other legislation designed to control the growing power of large corporations. In each case, a part of the reasoning was political: concentrated power was politically both unfair and dangerous.
America has dealt with difference since the founding of the republic.70 Anti-Federalists opposed ratifying the Constitution because the nation was too big to be governed from the center. Geographic, religious, ethnic, and language differences were so large that any attempt to subject them to a single set of laws or decision-making process seemed quixotic. English was far from universal and slavery just one of many enormous divisions. James Madison and the Federalists, however, answered by reversing the argument that the nation was too big and too diverse to be governable. They insisted that the nation’s size was an advantage—its diversity would force enlightened leaders to rise above the pettiness of parochial interests. Integration would improve the new nation’s politics.71
They had already seen the process at work. Nascent capitalism not only brought commercial interests together from across the nation, but had led previously sectarian institutions to integrate in order to survive in a religiously, as well as linguistically, diverse culture.72
Integration quickly became an ideology. In 1782, French immigrant Hector St. John de Crèvecœur famously wrote that immigrants wanted to become Americanized. They “melted” easily into Americans, and freed themselves from the slavery of the Old World. Historians have challenged his claims, but the ideology endured, became a self-fulfilling prophecy, and led Americans, sometimes grudgingly, to keep the paths of assimilation open. In a 1909 novel, British writer Israel Zangwill put immigrants into “the great Melting-Pot where all the races of Europe are melting and reforming!” He added: “Into the Crucible with you all! God is making the American.”73 Americans long ago came to believe that integration was crucial to creating the republican society that could manage the democratic system, their eighth important assumption.
Public schools were originally called common schools. Horace Mann, who died just before the Civil War, saw emerging class differences challenge the nation’s egalitarianism. Mann wanted to improve education, prepare lower classes for business and improve mutual understanding across classes. Integration would benefit everyone.74 Common expressed an ideology, bringing Americans of all kinds into the same buildings and schoolrooms where they would meet, learn from, and learn to get along with each other. Think of Bill Bradley, a Missouri banker’s son, future Princeton and New York Knicks basketball star and U.S. senator from New Jersey, going to and playing for Crystal City High. Bradley grew up comfortable with people unlike himself, an example of Mann’s hope for America.
Bringing schoolchildren together that way was a major American innovation. Other countries pour public dollars into separate schools for each religious community. Ours has required religious communities to use their own funds. Public schools are for everyone.
Actual mixing has varied. In some areas where groups have lived more segregated lives, private or parochial schools have been more feasible or acceptable avenues for mixing. But the principles underlying the common public school—openness to all and bringing people of all backgrounds together—has been a matter of American exceptionalism and pride.75 Indeed, during the Virginia desegregation trial, Robert Carter read, for the record, official publications of Virginia’s Department of Education “all of which called for . . . encouraging cooperation among students of all types.”76
Boys were schooled as soon as the Mayflower landed. Harvard schooled young men less than three decades later. Women’s education followed slowly.77
Separate seating by gender in church and school crossed the Atlantic with the first settlers. By the eighteenth century, families sat together in church and both parents educated their children. Puritans wanted girls to read the Bible because they had souls, needed to understand the moral law, and as women were expected to educate the next generation of men. In the colonial period, girls would be taught at home or so-called dame schools, run by women for small children, often both boys and girls. Although law required education for girls, parents either had to pay for it or teach the girls themselves. Schooling offered to girls was minimal, in off-hours, or in the summers.
After the American Revolution, women were expected to teach the virtue needed to protect and preserve a republican society. Gradually, ideology, religion, and economics expanded women’s role as teachers. Thus, the early development of American coeducation had nothing to do with integration, nor with equality. Often it was just economics—schools were safe for young girls, and separate schools were too expensive except in the largest cities.78 The Charlestown, Massachusetts, committee on coeducation reported: “We do not find [sexual segregation] in the organization of Sunday Schools or Primary schools” and “in all the social gatherings of the young, whether in the domestic circle, in parties of pleasure, or in rural or other excursions, it is desired and expected that both sexes will be brought together to participate in, and add to the enjoyments of the occasion.”79 Still, girls were treated differently, separately, and somewhat gingerly, because it was not clear why they needed more than the most basic education.
Once coeducation took hold in the countryside, cities began to grapple with it. But then, equality and integration became an issue. Coeducation was justified because boys would be restrained by and would learn to respect girls, while girls would learn respect for “manly” virtues.80 Boys and girls would learn from and about each other.81
Many saw coeducation ideologically: republican values mandated equal treatment and respect for merit and ability. The latter emphasis ran in the girls’ favor, as their school records tended to surpass their brothers’.82 (Relative scores have seesawed for many reasons other than innate ability.) As well-known scholars of coeducational history put it: “The ideal of the common school decreed that public education should deliberately mix different kinds of people in order to create a unified nation of people who shared similar civic values.”83 Some argued that the girls would meet the wrong sort of boys. That objection ran squarely into conflict with the ideology behind so-called common schools.
Seth Thomas, on a schools committee in Charlestown, Massachusetts, wrote: “the law has provided that these schools shall be public and common. . . . The rich and the poor, the high and the low, the polite and the vulgar, all have an equal right in them.” Thomas added that objections to allowing daughters to share classrooms with members of lower classes were “an attack upon the common school system.”84
Debates over coeducation paralleled later debates over integrating black and white children. Women’s advocates preferred coeducation because girls were often given inferior separate schools, just as advocates for African Americans later argued quality schooling would only be provided if they were educated with white students.85 Concern that wealthy parents would remove their daughters from coeducational common schools if many students were boys from immigrant or poor families was repeated by concern over white flight from schools with many black students. Flight of wealthier girls would have eliminated many of the benefits of the common school movement.86
Some saw equality as an objective, but others saw it as the problem of coeducation. Educating women, especially with boys, threatened to make them “unfit” mothers and homemakers. Integration would tend to wash away the differences between boys and girls. School administrators tiptoed around the issue, assuring everyone coeducation did not make girls unfit for proper gender roles.
The press was filled with hand wringing about feminizing boys and exhausting or toughening girls if men taught girls and women taught boys. The vastly increased presence of women on both sides of school desks worried some. Educators, however, concluded that same-sex teachers were not necessary, and would be too expensive to arrange. Women teachers eventually took over several of the educational associations, although they often continued to elect male officers. And the schools rode out the gendered storm.87
Assimilation and integration were also tools toward other goals. With large-scale immigration early in the twentieth century, the different customs, languages, and attitudes of foreign-born workers concerned industrialists like Henry Ford, as well as educators and social workers. For industry, these differences were expensive sources of conflict, turnover, and resistance to traditional rules. Celebrating Eastern Orthodox Christmas thirteen days later than most Americans disrupted production. Differences made communications difficult and relationships testy.88 Labor’s efforts to organize were throttled by corporate-financed police and local political machines. Educators feared that foreign-born Americans were a threat to democracy and might undermine sacred American institutions.
Schools quickly became a means to prepare workers for industrial life, with regimented schedules that would Americanize the children. Large schools with students in age-graded lock step replaced one-room schoolhouses with children of diverse ages gathered together. Big schools were more efficient. To instill American cultural values, national civic education replaced the Bible as a fundamental text. The objective was to make new Americans less different from their older neighbors. Schools shifted from supporting an older nation of skilled craftsmen responsible largely to themselves, to supporting a new nation of industrial workers.
Major corporations developed Americanism classes, which included distaste for socialism and trade unionism. Ford created a graduation ceremony for its school, which included a huge incarnation of the melting pot—in went foreign nationals and out came Americans.89
Americanization was coercive. The post–World War I “patriotic” attack on foreigners (i.e., Germans, Jews, and Asians), race riots, revival of the Ku Klux Klan (directed against African Americans, Catholics, and Jews), and the Red Scare (against Old World anticapitalist views), defined American narrowly and challenged the Progressives’ efforts at Americanization. Still, many believed assimilation was unavoidable, regardless of deliberate efforts. Crèvecœur’s concept of “melting” supported America’s faith that the vicious intergroup struggles of the 1920s would be overcome.90
Militia service was already required of all free men in the colonial period. Americans have attached great importance to the idea that the army was composed of people from all walks and stations of life who had to work together on terms of equality.
The common militia mostly served a training function. Select and volunteer militias grew alongside it and did most of the actual fighting. They were based mostly on social status, and functioned like men’s clubs. By contrast, the regular army was drawn from those so poor that military pay and food were attractive. Thus, Americans feared standing armies, drawn from the least substantial members of the society.91
Returning to Sam Adams’s point in his farewell address as governor of Massachusetts, the common militia seemed safer than a standing army or more elite militias, which might not have everyone’s interest at heart. As late as the Spanish-American War, local guard units kept the informality of their towns, using first names, regardless of rank and rules, and punishing anyone who put on an airs. Egalitarianism was strong despite social differences, and soldiers expected to be treated as independent, valuable human beings. The regular army had become strictly hierarchical and did everything according to rules. Officers and soldiers tended to come from different classes and there was considerably less mixing across classes in the army.92
Before the twentieth century, the military was based on local units—the First Massachusetts, the Fourth Indiana, the Rough Riders. But when Uncle Sam wanted you to join the army in the twentieth century, the idea was to enlist recruits without regard to origin. Farm boys from Iowa fought beside city slickers, hillbillies, and southern gentry. Before the United States entered World War I, “conscriptionists believed that military training would help restore harmony, order, and vitality to a society that they believed was becoming fragmented and debilitated by individual selfishness, class and ethnic divisions, and local and regional parochialism.” They were “appalled” by “the lack of assimilation of millions of immigrants from southern and eastern Europe.” Echoing Horace Mann, they wanted to “teach rich and poor to understand each other.”93 Theodore Roosevelt proclaimed, “the military tent, where all sleep side-by-side, will rank next to the public school among the great agents of democratization.”94
Objections to the draft included the financial imposition on poor families, the assault on traditions of local control and individual responsibility, and hostility to a military establishment headquartered on the East Coast. Immigrant groups were divided both over the war itself and over conscription because the military bureaucracy would threaten their diverse sympathies, lives, and identities.
The American belief in the alchemy of living and working together threatened southern race relations. Mississippi Senator James K. Vardaman feared “arrogant strutting representatives of the black soldiery in every community.”95 Some black leaders thought the draft would improve the position of African Americans. But the administration segregated the military by race and the draft administrator suggested “a plan to keep blacks working in the cotton fields during the war.”96
By the end of World War II, towns like Castroville, Texas, where European languages were spoken to the virtual exclusion of English, began to lose their Old World tongues. Soldiers had comrades across the country who introduced them to wives, business opportunities, and new cultures. War was homogenizing the culture of the United States.
The army deliberately “Americanized” immigrants by mixing them,97 as well as by teaching them about “American” habits and beliefs, including sanitation, enlistment, success, American heroes, and obedience, but not fighting, Bolshevism, or strikes.98 During World War I, some high-ranking Army officers wanted to break up units that had been segregated by language to facilitate learning.99 Brigadier General Henry Jervey wrote, “it is not the policy of the United States Army to encourage or permit the formation of distinctive brigades, regiments, battalions or other organizations composed exclusively of the members of any race, creed or political or social group.”100
President Wilson changed the policy to segregate the races and to recruit aliens.101 There was no opportunity for black officers except in black regiments, and only under white command.102 In World War II, blacks began to be sent as replacements for losses in battle. By 1951 both black and white troops in integrated units expected race relations to improve, although whites in segregated units did not.103
Integration had been tried before the Civil War. In Ohio, it was sometimes a local option, sometimes required. Massachusetts originally required and maintained integrated schools but black students felt so badly treated in Boston that the community petitioned for a separate school. When the request was denied, the black community set up a private school of their own. Eventually, the city accepted some responsibility, but its segregated schools were poorly maintained, far from where the black students lived, and run by insensitive, often abusive, administrators and teachers. In response, a portion of the black community stressing racial pride, reestablished a private black school with an exclusively black staff. They feared any return to inhospitable, integrated schools, pointing to the failure of integrated schools decades before which had led to the establishment of separate black schools.104
Some blacks moved to the towns outside Boston to attend integrated schools. In 1849, Charles Sumner, future abolitionist senator from Massachusetts, argued in the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, that the Massachusetts Constitution required integration of Boston’s schools, using many arguments quite similar to those used a century later in Brown v. Board of Education. Sumner was assisted by a well-respected and capable black attorney, Robert Morris Jr. Chief Justice Lemuel Shaw was a well-known abolitionist. Nevertheless, in 1849 the Massachusetts Supreme Court denied the claim and sustained separate schools in Boston.105 With white allies, however, blacks secured integrated schools by statute.106
In the post–Civil War South and some Northern states, the KKK and others “taught” blacks to submit by widespread violence and intimidation. More recently, resistance to the civil rights movement was written in blood—of children in bombed churches, of blacks who tried to vote or sue, of civil rights workers who sought to improve the position of blacks in the segregated South.107 Some successful black communities were destroyed by murder, mayhem, arson, and a coup d’état in Wilmington, North Carolina (1898), Tulsa, Oklahoma (1921), Rosewood, Florida (1923) and other cities.108
The battle within the black community was fought again between the two world wars. Many thought “mixed” schools would subject black children to worse mistreatment and rob them of knowledge of black accomplishments and, by extension, their own potential. Others were convinced segregation was the root of white prejudice and black self-doubt.109
In his 1931 report to the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), Nathan Margold offered a strategy to make segregation unconstitutional. It would be less inflammatory to focus first on graduate schools because southern whites feared that integrated elementary schools would lead to intermarriage and “mongrelize” the race. As Margold pointed out, integrated elementary schools were the eventual goal because “contacts in childhood would have a tendency to arrest the development of prejudice and its evils.”110
The country changed radically between Plessy v. Ferguson and Brown v. Board of Education, the 1954 decision that overturned it. A stunning example was CBS broadcast of the “Ballad for Americans” on national network radio in 1939, before the television era, on the eve of World War II. Paul Robeson starred, singing and narrating the ballad. Robeson was a chocolate-black son of a slave, and a Phi Beta Kappa and Rutgers valedictorian with a Columbia law degree. Robeson was a very public figure, a star of stage, screen, and opera, internationally acclaimed from London to Moscow. On Broadway, he introduced “Old Man River” in the original Broadway production of Showboat. The public response to Robeson’s appearance with the “Ballad for Americans” led CBS to repeat it. An in-theater audience of six hundred applauded for fifteen full minutes. The song was recorded later and became a major hit in the 1940s. In the “Ballad for Americans” this well-known black man described himself as an Italian, Pole, Jew, lawyer, doctor, and accountant—he covered the litany of all origins, professions, skills, and occupations that made up the fabric of America society. The “Ballad for Americans” opened the 1940 Republican Convention. Honorary degrees followed. World War II propaganda celebrated the American melting pot, versions of which, like Robeson’s portrayal, celebrated the participation of blacks in that national stew.111
Propaganda of that era, depicting people of all kinds working shoulder to shoulder, was all the more powerful in contrast to the racism of fascism. Even so, improvement came at great cost. KKK members worked in sheriff’s offices or for the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), were active in the White Citizens’ Councils movement, or owned local businesses. To force African Americans to reject the NAACP and desegregation, segregationists threatened their homes, lives, and livelihoods. Parents who joined lawsuits or sent their children to previously white-only schools exercised real courage. Many paid dearly for their victories.112
Although integration has not come close to realizing the hopes of blacks, Native Americans, and many whites, it has been the principal American ideological response to difference and discrimination—and it has worked for many people.113 In a fascinating set of interchanges on cross-examination in the Virginia trial of one of the cases that were consolidated as Brown v. Board, NAACP lawyer and later Judge Robert Carter got the state’s expert witnesses to admit that segregation harms those who are segregated.114 His answer was an amazing testament to the power of American ideology in the teeth of segregationist Virginia.
These then were working assumptions of the architects of the country. The founders sought to secure republican government both for the nation and the states. They understood self-government as the essence of liberty, and general welfare the encompassing object of government.
To run their government safely, they tried to disperse power, provide civilian control of the military, questioned the impact of bills of rights, and expected benefits from the partly national, partly federal character of the new nation.
The founding generation believed that to keep republican government alive the country would need more than constitutional rules distributing power among governmental bodies. To keep the republican character of the country, the new nation needed unity—to forge one nation out of its many parts. It needed education to inculcate republican principles. It needed wide dispersion of wealth to support republican government. It needed integration to forge republican society. In short, it needed a republican community, equality, and character for the security of their new democracy. Despite sectional differences and plenty of room to debate particulars, these assumptions were part of the founding generation’s understanding of what would be necessary to keep their country republican.
They gave a great deal of thought to the survival of their governmental child. Time and distance have gradually separated us from our founding generation’s understanding of their own creation.