James Madison
Garry Wills, 2002
If Thomas Jefferson was America's first geek
president, then James Madison was its first nerd president: 5'4", 100
pounds, finished his four-year course at Princeton in two years, and
was a fair way into his 30s before his first attempt to court someone
(a 15-year-old girl who rejected him). Conservative historian Garry
Wills argues in this brief biography that another sign of this nerdiness
was that, much as Jefferson privileged the abstract ("rebellion") over
the concrete (actual human beings getting their actual heads actually
chopped off), Madison privileged the theoretical over the empirical.
In Wills's account, Madison was absolutely convinced that America held
the ultimate weapon in its disputes with Britain and France: an
economic embargo, which would cripple the European powers' economies
and force them to bow to US demands (eg, to stop boarding American ships
and seizing all the crewmembers who seemed like they might have deserted
from the British navy, as many had). As Jefferson's secretary of state,
he actually got the embargo passed in 1807, and it turned out to be a
crippling blow for the American economy, particularly trade-reliant
New England, which
. Nevertheless, Madison
kept returning to the embargo as the cure for any problems that cropped up
across the Atlantic. Nor, argues Wills, was the embargo Madison's only
idée fixe. For instance, the Constitutional Convention
was at least ostensibly intended merely to revise the Articles of
Confederation, so the framers had to tread very carefully where the
issue of state sovereignty was concerned. Giving the federal government
the power to veto state laws was therefore a non-starter, and yet
Madison strenuously lobbied for it. Why, given that such a move would
likely have kept the Constitution from being ratified at all? Because
Madison thought it was right. And to a theorist, it is better
that a plan be perfect than passable.
And yet if we're supposed to believe that Madison's defining attribute
was an unwillingness to change his views based on empirical evidence or
the political currents, how do we reconcile that with the fact that
Madison was all over the map on the fundamental issues of his day? He
came up with the "Virginia Plan" to toss the Articles of Confederation
and swap in a strong central government with authority to veto state
laws... and a decade later authored the "Virginia Resolution" arguing
that states had the right to nullify federal laws. A
fervent opponent of the First Bank of the United States, he wound up
chartering the Second. Wills accounts for this by pointing out that,
even on these topics, Madison wished he had been consistent,
spending his last years going back and altering articles he'd written,
falsifying letters he'd sent, forging letters from others. The charitable
explanation for this is that Madison wanted to pass the clearest possible
exposition of his views on to posterity — even as those views were
becoming irrelevant. Madison's life was consumed by questions such as:
Should the United States be a Hanoverian-style monarchy or a republic of
yeoman farmers? What side should the new nation take in the struggle
between Britain and France? What role should religion play in a country
that sprang from religious separatist movements but was inherited by
Enlightenment-era deists? But even as the declining Madison was going
all Minitrue on his legacy, those questions
were being settled. The respective consensus answers: Neither, since
industrialization has made both systems moot; who cares about distant
powers to the east, when America's destiny lies west; and who cares,
given the war over slavery looming on the horizon?
I was interested to learn that Madison's attempts to fill positions
in his cabinet, in the military, and in the Supreme Court resulted in
one fiasco after another: his ministers feuded, his generals were
incompetent, and his would-be justices either turned him down or were
spiked by the Senate. Which brings up an aspect of the American system
of government that I have always found bizarre. For the past week, the
executive branch of the government has basically been turned over to
Henry Paulson, former CEO of Goldman Sachs and current secretary of the
treasury. Thanks to Paulson (and the predictably docile Democrats in
Congress) it seems that we will very soon be turning over hundreds of
billions of dollars to Paulson's buddies on Wall Street. We didn't
vote for Henry Paulson! Nor will we be voting for his replacement
when we go to the polls in a few weeks. We're supposed to select a
president without knowing whom he's going to nominate for this key
post. Isn't that, y'know, an important piece of information to have?
Like, if John McCain is going to pick (as seems likely) Phil Gramm,
who did as much or more than any single person to bring about this
economic meltdown, shouldn't we actually be told that? I'm not saying
that we should vote separately for each office. But why can't we see
the slate? The main argument I've heard against this is that candidates
might make frivolous
selections to win votes rather than choose the people they really
want in those offices. But if you're going to argue that the public is
too stupid to evaluate a slate, how can you argue that it's nevertheless
qualified to choose a president?
Of course, Madison wouldn't have made such an argument! Under
his system, the public wasn't deemed to be so qualified —
the president was to be chosen by the legislature. For fear that the
president would thus be insufficiently independent of Congress, this
proposal was scrapped, but replaced with the electoral college. And
the electoral college is based on the same principle: to wit, that few
people follow politics closely enough to know who would make a good
president, but they do know enough to be able to pick some local smart
fella whom they can trust to make a good decision on their behalf. An
argument can be made that expanding the franchise is therefore only a
good idea so long as education is keeping pace — ie, that everyone
who walks into a voting booth is as well-informed as an 18th-century
town sage.
Of course, Madison was a world-class 18th-century sage and he proved
terrible at choosing people, so.
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