Wednesday, May 5th, 2010
Federalist #6
Essay number five closed with recognition that what is decisive in human communities is the political distinction, the political identity. That settles the question of what is “near and dear.” That distinction lies at the root of warfare. It follows accordingly that one lessens the chance of war by setting thins up so that people will call the same things “near and dear.” This means, at a minimum of course, that when people seek to resolve their most important questions they will all expect the authoritative answer to come from the same source. They will all appeal to the same Solomon.
None of this means that Publius envisions a human landscape from which all war has been eliminated. He described controlling war within the precise political environment of the United States by means of constructing a political identity for these people called Americans. This is made clear in essay number six, in which Publius speaks explicitly against utopian speculation.
Men, he argues, are ambitious, vindictive, and rapacious. They are so because they differ regarding the things that are near and dear to them. One reacts to those things which are not one’s own more under the influence of those passions of ambition, vindictiveness, or rapaciousness than with in respect to what is one’s own. The founding seeks to insulate this characteristic in human beings by teaching some set of human beings to hold the same things “near and dear.”
Note, too, that the statement about human character does not add the familiar phrase, “by nature.” It is not necessary to conclude that human nature is evil in order to see that certain evil (fallenness) is attached to human nature. There is another view that human nature itself is evil, that is sometimes falsely attributed to Publius. This very negative portrait of constitutionalism makes it appear that the whole purpose of the constitution is to prevent Americans from doing all the evil they can to one another.
The first essays in The Federalist Papers convey exactly the opposite picture: it is admitted that evil is possible; it is admitted that government is necessary; it is admitted that people do violence; it is admitted that there are causes of war rooted in human nature; but there is still the positive endeavor, which is the real driving force of this founding, and that is the endeavor to build a nation of one people who call the same things near and dear.
This emerges clearly in the third paragraph of essay number six:
The causes of hostility among nations are innumerable. There are some which have a general and almost constant operation upon the collective bodies of society: 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 intirely [sic] in private passions: in the attachments, enmities, interests, hopes, and fears of leading individuals in the communities of which they are members.
These separate categories that Publius has listed all relate to one another, but the most important thing about them is that they are distinct, separate. The love of power, to take an example, is different from the private passions. The rivalries and competitions of commerce also differ from private passions. In a manner of speaking, these factors may not be passions at all, they may be perfectly rational. If by passions, we mean what is not rational, then we cannot call all these things “passions.” That means that the causes of war are not necessarily irrational.
To imagine that wars come about only because of failures of reason is probably one of the greatest mistakes. Some wars are thoroughly rational. Above all, ina case wehre people palce themselves ina situation to invite war. Let’s remember essays three and four: “the nation must place itself in such a situation that it will not invite war.” It will invite friendly intercourse, not war; which is why prosperity is a precondition for peace rather than a consequence of peace.
Having made that distinction, and having distinguished the private passions from other conceivable causes of war, we now note that the private passions are not less interesting because they are arational. For they bear upon the question of public opinion, and the preceding discussion turns almost entirely upon the question of public opinion.
In paragraph seven of essay six Publius again discussed the general clauses and examples of wars, now focused on the United States. He remarked that great national events sometimes are produced by petty personal matters, and he described Daniel Shays of Massachusetts as a desperate debtor. Then he added that it is much to be doubted whether there had bee a rebellion had Shays not been a desperate debtor. Thus, Publius wonders out loud whether the brief civil war was caused because a desperate person was carried away or because a person of enormous capacity for leadership was desperate. Accordingly, private passion must be taken into account no less than rational opportunities. If Shays with his talent had not been made desperate, he had not organized thousands of debtors and farmers.
In the next two paragraph Publius set up a measure of the distance what he called visionary or designing men, on the hand, and the hardheaded realists of political life on the other hand:
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 humours which have so often kindled into wars. Commercial republics, like ours, will never e 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.
What a lovely, visionary portrait of the modern dispensation! But Publius rejects it, no matter how close it comes to the view that prosperity is a precondition for peace. Publius says that it is not enough to form a republic and to practice commerce. In fact, he responds to both issues, when he wonders whether “it is not the true interest of all nations, whether republics or not, to cultivate the same benevolent and philosophic spirit.” Commerce may well soften manners, but it equally well provides new occasions for jealousies, new occasions for conflict. In short, Publius rejects the new and modern principles of the enlightenment, that greater human understanding will eliminate causes for war.
Publius’s argument is particular to the political organization of the untied States. Our discussion emerged from considering domestic violence. Publius examined commerce among the states, but noted that the commerce would not disappear because of Union. The only difference is a difference in practice or habitude. The various states (New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, say) would experience the same necessities. But under the Union they would all turn to the same source for help when problems arise. They would call the same thing near and dear by turning to a single Solomon. IT is the act of agreeing upon a single Solomon that predisposes men to be more peaceful with one another, more like brothers than enemies.
W. B. Allen
Dean and Professor of Emeritus
Michigan State University