Amazing Grace

This afternoon I had the delight of watching Michael Apted's Amazing Grace. I really enjoyed the film!

The prompt for this blog was to explore the reasons for why William Wilberforce experienced so much opposition when trying to abolish the slave trade. The movie presented, through characters and situations, several reasons for which abolition faced so much opposition.

First, the members of the House of Lords voiced concerns about their constituencies - that those they represented would be injured by the abolition of the slave trade. The Lord who represented Liverpool expressed his opposition citing a wish to help rather than hurt the community he represented. Although the Lords were obviously not elected and therefore not directly accountable to their constituencies, they did feel a duty to represent the interest of their respective boroughs. As we discussed earlier in the semester, members of the House of Lords felt that they spoke for the interest of the people, even when they were not elected by the people. (It was for this reason that the colonies were considered represented in Parliament even when they elected no representative to the House of Commons).

Secondly, the MPs often had business interests themselves in the West Indies. Mr. Wilberforce himself addressed this concern on the floor of Parliament. He was asking the Lords to overlook their own personal gain for the good of humanity, which ideal is so often less than popular. That's not a vote-getter. (Modern parallel: you've got to make "living green" financially or socially appealing to people, because the majority of people aren't going to get a Prius or start recycling just based on a moral appeal.)

Third, Wilberforce's health could have totally prevented the bill from ever being passed if it had not have been for his incredible willpower. This was a point that the film underscored. The film showed his bouts of sickness and his refusal of the laudanum treatment the doctors offered him for fear that his mind would not be as sharp, at the expense of the defense of the bill. The film presented his illness in a way that highlighted Wilberforce's devotion to the cause of abolitionism, and indeed it seems to be the case that he gave up his very life to pass the final bill outlawing the slave trade; he passed away only three days after the passage of the Slavery Abolition Act 1833.

Fourth, abolitionism in England was associated with insurrection and revolution, which ideas disgusted Wilberforce himself. This becomes obvious in the movie during the telling scene of his conversation with his close friend and associate in the anti-slavery cause, Thomas Clarkson. Clarkson speaks of the revolution in the United States and of the one brewing in France, certain that England is next in line. (Clarkson makes, by the way, some interesting points - that if they're battling slavery, they should also be battling oppression of poor laborers, of gender equality... But change is gradual, which word is so distasteful to Wilberforce in the film, as it pertains to emancipation and abolition.) Characters like Clarkson developed unsavory reputations because of their association with the "wine" of the French Revolution (curiously the same image Charles Dickens uses in A Tale of Two Cities to talk about the blood that flowed through the streets of Paris during that time of chaos). The movie made a point that abolitionism became a very unpopular subject in large part because of such undesirable associations. Wilberforce's humanitarian motion came to be synonymous with chaos and anarchy, whereas in the film, Wilberforce expressed the idea that even an imperfect order is better than no order at all.

The first blow to the anti-abolition conservatives thus had to come in disguise, in the form of a seemingly patriotic, anti-French bill on neutral flags. On the surface, the law had nothing to do with the slave trade, but in effect wiped out 80% of the trade. With this initial blow, and with rearrangements in the Prime Minister's cabinet (putting antislavery Lord Charles Fox in a high place, who is a very interesting character, by the way), the death knell of the slave trade was sounded. Somewhat ironically, it was the Prime Minister's death (or at least as the story was framed by the film) who was Wilberforce's best friend from his youth - the two were at Cambridge together - that enabled the necessary turnovers in the government. During his life, this William Pitt the Younger couldn't appear to oppose the anti-abolition king (crazy King George), although his truest sentiments, the movie seemed to show, may have lain closer to those of Wilberforce.

Overall, I really enjoyed this film! The dialogue was interesting, and it's from the conversations and ideas of the characters that I've gotten the majority of my ideas for this post. Plus, the beautiful costumes, the scenery... I'm excited to be in England this summer!

The Second Inagural

This week for class we read both Lincoln's Second Inaugural address and some commentaries on the document itself.

I was much impressed with the profoundly religious nature of the document. Lincoln takes an angle that's far more conciliatory than the North's sentiments tended to be, recognizing that although the Union was divided by the question of slavery, their devotion to the Bible and their mutual recognition and supplication of the same God united them. It's clear that although Lincoln didn't believe the South innocent ("Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish, and the war came."), he didn't want to punish them. He recognized his duty and the nation's to forgive. Without such a 'Christian' attitude of forgiveness, the South would desperately struggle to rebuild.

In class Dr. H pointed out that John Wilkes Booth killed the man that would have treated the South with the most dignity and respect during the reconstruction period. However, with Lincoln gone, the North sought retribution and exacted it, leaving the Southern economy in ruins, to slowly rebuild.

I also appreciated Dr. H's insight into the address when he pointed out that Lincoln understood that man cannot grasp God's will. We think we can read and interpret God's will in both the bad and the good, but we are mistaken. God's ways are not our ways, and His thoughts are not our thoughts. And I think we hinder true understanding of God's will by pretending it's something perfectly legible. We miss deeper meaning in the events that happen around us if we tritely label them with Sunday School answers. This is something that was reinforced by an article my grandmother wrote about her battle with breast cancer. When a cancer patient is suffering, they don't want to hear your interpretations of God's will - they want sympathy and comfort and relief. That is just what Lincoln is calling for in the Second Inaugural: "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations." He wanted to help the nation heal, not to attach blame to one party or the other.

Wise guy, Lincoln.

The Second Great Awakening

This last week in class, we discussed the Second Great Awakening. The more I learn about this period in history, the more I see its influence in contemporary American culture and politics. This religious revivalism explains in part why, next to Europe, the United States is so morally, religiously, and politically conservative: why we find Glenn Beck funny, why homosexuality and abortion are such explosive issues, etc.

Insights into the Second Great Awakening have also enabled me to more clearly see how Joseph Smith fits into his own historical and cultural context. He tried to build a Utopian community based on shared wealth (or as we'd say, a zionistic community which he was inspired of God to direct), like the Harmony Society or the Oneida communities. He sent out missionaries to preach on tree stumps, like Thomas and Alexander Campbell. He claimed to have the whole truth. The church he founded represents a 'democratization' of faith and power - all men hold the priesthood, all worthy members hold callings, and such callings are not held for life.

However, in many ways, Joseph Smith represents a break from his contemporary revivalists, first and foremost in the movement's title - a restoration rather than a revival. Through the intermediary Joseph Smith, God restored truth and power that had been lost. The revivalists, on the other hand, thought all the necessary truth was already contained within the Bible, and the concept of 'authority' or power had been quite lost. Joseph Smith's teachings - especially the principle of the temple - hark back to the Old Testament. On the contrary, revivalists primarily read, quoted, and expounded on the New Testament, insisting that all the necessary truths for salvation were contained in that book.

The Mormons also promulgate seemingly heretical doctrines, like the apotheosis of man. We Mormons believe that man is God in embryo, and that we can become gods ourselves. This is a total break with all religious thought in the previous 1600 years, and is a restoration - not a revival - of truth.

Crandall Printing Museum

I was admittedly surprised by how much I enjoyed my visit to the Crandall Printing Museum. I found particularly interesting the thread Mr. Crandall sought to create between Gutenberg, the foundation of the United States, and the bringing forth of the Book of Mormon.

What surprised me the very most was how little the printing press evolved up until the 20th century. Gutenberg's first machine was a converted olive press, but looks so similar to the model still being used during the American revolution. And although the printing press that was used to print the Book of Mormon was iron, it too works in virtually the same way. We still use the exact same metal for printing that Gutenberg invented - an alloy of tin, alloy, and lead.

I was also impressed and reminded of the importance of the printed word. Gutenberg's Bible helped but religion back into the hands of individuals rather than in the hand of the upper stratus of the Catholic church. This sped the religious reformations and the Renaissance of the 16th and 17th centuries, which we've all learned since the beginning of our liberal education was essential to the discovery and founding of the Americas. And of course, our own liberal education would be impossible without Gutenberg's innovation.

The patience and persistence and strength required to invent and even operate a printing press is astounding. Setting type, sorting the letters, pulling the lever on the press... Mr. Crandall pointed out that it would've been next to impossible to print the Book of Mormon as quickly as they did without some divine grace to speed things along.

My favorite part of the tour was actually towards the end - I realize that I'm actually quite interested in book binding, and I think I should try to take the class! It sounds so cool! And it's offered on Tuesday and Wednesday from 5 to 9 in Fall Semester... Hm. I think I like that.

I'd definitely recommend a visit to the Printing Museum. It was long but really interesting. Thumbs up.

Women's rights

This week in class we discussed the beginning of the Women's Rights movement, and placed it in the organization of the Relief Society in 1842 in Nauvoo, rather than the traditionally accepted beginning at the Seneca Falls Convention in 1848. Although looking back from 2010, 1848 seems far away, why has it taken women in Western society so long to rally and organize for a concentrated effort for their rights? I certainly don't have all the answers, but it seems that often woman's very position in society has kept her from organizing.

In Western culture, women have long been entrenched in their position as homemakers: servile to men, charged with caring for children and housekeeping, perhaps occupied by more 'menial tasks.' This comes back curiously to the reason why Thomas Jefferson was able to have such a solid self-education and through that help philosophize-up the new American government: he had slaves to do his work for him, and thus was able to free his mind up to think about weightier matters. Women, on the other hand, have long been kept occupied with more menial cares, and further were often (until only very recently) denied the academic opportunities presented to men. Without an education, and without the time to devote to the grander ideas of philosophy, women were probably prevented from even considering their servile position in the same way as men.

Second, the attitudes inherent in Western society had long kept women from seeing their position as that needed to be changed. Our individual attitudes are so fundamentally shaped by our culture. A woman born into a culture where women are perceived as servile, weaker, and with a specific, limiting, matronly role to fill is probably not going to consider rallying for her 'rights' without some outside stimulus - she won't consider herself as being heir to those same 'rights' granted to men. For example, the women at Nauvoo who received their endowments and were sealed to their husbands in the temple received an outside, divine stimulus. They were with outside help able to see their divine role (rather than a cultural one) and see their place as equals with men. In our textbook reading, the author often tries to emphasize that black slaves had an inherent drive for freedom and liberty, and while this may be true for the bond-free conflict, attitudes toward gender roles have are probably different in this respect: societally and culturally based, rather than inherent. The women of Nauvoo, with their divine perspective on gender roles, rather than a cultural perspective, were able to organize for their rights. Although many today see Mormon women as still servile to their husbands as stay-at-home moms, Mormons perhaps have a greater vision of gender equality than do many men and women alike, because they have a divinely inspired pattern for such equality in the temple.

Third, in some situations women were probably kept very isolated from each other, which would prevent them from 'commiserating' (forgive the negative connotation). For example, our textbook talks about how plantation mistresses in the South often complained of isolation. They lived far from one another, separated by acres and acres and acres of land. Perhaps this is another reason why it seems that many social and political movements start in urban areas and spread outward. You've got to have people together, discussing and letting ideas ferment, in order to instigate and inspire change. There can be no rallying - for Women's Rights or for Civil Rights or any rights at all - with out groups of people. One voice, as it turns out, often doesn't do much.

Beyond these reasons, the simple fact that women lacked, to this point, several basic rights and weren't considered full citizens once they were married, but rather minors, they would have been prevented from assembling. Protection of the freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, and freedom of the press would've been limited in their extension to women. Some women may have also been themselves opposed to an upset of the traditional gender roles implied in the Seneca Falls Convention. Perhaps that's what's so neat about the Nauvoo Relief Soeciety - it plays to women's strengths as caring, organized, and efficient.

Amistad

In class on Wednesday, we watched Steven Spielberg's 1997 film Amistad. In this blog, I'm supposed to explain how the film helped me visualize slavery, but the daily grind of slave life is not what Amistad's about. Instead, the film helped me visualize the conditions of the slave passage between African and the New World, and some key actors and arguments in the drama of the slave debate.

The opening minutes of the film, Cinqué's desperate struggle to free himself from his chains in the hull of the ship, are of course highly dramatic and very "Hollywood." They are, however, really riveting and honestly disturbing - the blood, the sweat, the lightning, the rain... It seems to represent the whole of the calamity of African slavery, and it is in that aspect that the film helped me 'visualize slavery.'

There is also Cinqué's description, through the help of an interpreter, (and montaged by Spielberg) of the absolutely inhumane conditions of his capture, trade, and passage. The sight of starving Africans climbing over each other for a morsel of the gruel the sailors brought them... the woman with her baby... the drowning of the slaves... that's all sickening to me, but again helped me 'visualize' the slave trade. I'm used to reading about it in books, but it was really poignant to have a visual representation.

Third, my favorite part of this film was actually that it provided a stage on which the many major arguments for and against slavery were presented. John Quincy Adams, Baldwin, Joadson, and Cinqué himself were able to make voiced powerful arguments against slavery, and Holabird and John C. Calhoun voiced the opposite. These arguments even came up in a discussion with some friends last night.

Didn't West Africans practice slavery themselves? a friend asked. All I had to do was quote Ensign Covey, the interpreter, to explain the difference between these two types of slavery. And who can forget John Quincy Adam's final speech before the Supreme Court of John C. Calhoun's tension-filled words at the Presidential dinner?

More than the daily life of a slave, this film helped me visualize the debate surrounding slavery and the passage between West Africa and the New World.

The Federalist Paper

I really enjoyed this past week's reading of a few selected Federalist papers, especially as we read them side-by-side with Adam Smith's economic theory. I guess this blog is supposed to be on a single Federalist paper, but I'm going to play with that a little. What I appreciated the most in all of these works - James Madison and Adam Smith together - was the similar theme of pluralism.

In Federalist 51 and 57, James Madison argues that the best cure for factions is actually to let factions perpetuate and multiply. The fact of having "several constituent parts may, by their mutual relations, be the means of keeping each other in their proper places" (51). A plurality of many minority factions provides safety from the take-over of a single majority faction. The presence of a "multiplicity of interests" and a "multiplicity of sects" will, Madison argues, protect in turn civil and religious liberty (51). A multiplicity of factions and interests requires, as Madison more fully elaborates in Federalist 57, a large are of land. Here, Madison argues that factions act out of self-interest, but further that having several competing parties act out of self-interest actually benefits the rights and liberties of all, because it checks the 'tyranny of the faction,' as we could say.

Madison says it this way: "Extend the sphere" (allow a single government to rule a larger populace) "and you take in a greater variety of parties and interests; you make it less probable that a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other citizens" (57). This, as Dr. Hozapfel mentioned in class, is James Madison's so-called Large State Theory, and it seems, to this point, to have more or less worked.

This sounds, in a certain way, similar to Adam Smith's theories set forth in The Wealth of Nations. From the very beginning, Smith praises the "division of labour" because it allows for improvement of "skill, dexterity, and judgment," giving the classic example of the hatpin makers. For Smith, divvying up tasks allows workers to specialize, which enables efficiency and productivity. This clearly recalls Madison's claim that a greater diversity of factions enables a productive protection of civil and religious liberties.

In the second chapter of The Wealth of Nations, Smith states he fundamental principle of his economic theory: that the market operates on self-interest, which actually benefits the market. This is so similar to what Madison says - that several competing (and let's say 'specialized') factions can actually factions benefit the society.

In the third chapter, Smith argues that in a small market, there is less division of labor, and that thus in a larger market, there is greater diversity and specialization of labor. Again this sounds like Madison: in a large populace, there is a greater diversity of interests and thus factions.

The gist is this:

Both Adam Smith and James Madison argue that in a larger market or a larger population, there is a great degree of specialization. For Smith's economic theory this means that rather than being a jack-of-all-trades, an individual in the market will analyze basketball statistics or make shoelaces for a living. For Madison's political theory, this means that an individual will be a tobacco lobbyist or protest abortion clinics. In both theories, this diversity and specialization benefits the whole society. In Smith's economy, our basketball statistics analyst can call a plumber to fix his shower head and buy his milk and bread at the grocery store rather than farming himself. In Madison's political 'economy,' the tobacco lobbyists and pro-lifers, along with thousands of other factions, are vying for their own interests, which competition means that neither can take over and rule as a tyrannical majority.

Cool.

A more perfect union

This week in class, we watched A More Perfect Union: America Becomes a Nation





Just to start this blog out on a lighter note, my friend Derk looks exactly like Craig Wasson, who played James Madison in the movie. A total Doppelgänger. I pointed this out to Derk, and this photo is now his Facebook profile picture. Win.

On a more substantive note, I keep noticing in every film that we watch the differences between the characters and personalities of the Founders. I sometimes think of them as a monolithic block of upper-class white men in wigs. How wrong could I be! Benjamin Franklin's hair was totally real.

But seriously, the creation of the Constitution required serious sacrifice and compromise between competing ideas of what a good government would be. It is really incredible that the document they were able to draw up has lasted as long as it has, especially with only minor revisions. The fundamental premise of our government has remained what James Madison organized and wrote and compromised into the Constitution.

Interesting to me, in the film, was the debate over the Bill of Rights - that states would protect those rights, and that the prescribed system of government would check that.

Last, and I know this is sort of a weak-sauce blog entry, and further, I write this doubting that the TAs actually read our blogs, but why are we watching movies instead of having class lecture? How does a C-list film produced by BYU replace a lecture from a PhD? This is an honors class, and I can see the value of watching films as a supplement to lecture, but totally replacing class with a movie? I'm always a little sketched out by historical films in any case, because how can you represent another time period accurately?

Sorry to be critical, I just expected more from an Honors course.

The struggle.

This week's blog topic is the big questions the Founding Fathers wrestled with in creating the constitution.

Unfortunately, I can't dig up the drive in myself to write 600-800 words about these big questions, so I hereby forfeit my weekly blog points.

Better luck next time.

John Adams on the silver screen

First, I'm glad that Tom Hanks made this film. In general, it seemed to be quite honest in its portrayal of the Continental Congress. I think we sometimes forget how much internal struggle existed before the colonies finally united. Of course, there's only so much we can realistically recreate, be it in a film or in a novel, because the documents that still exist aren't of a descriptive nature – they don't say things like, "The air in the Congressional hall hung heavy with tension," – nor do they contain personal details like, "John and Abigail shared a tender moment sitting on the edge of their nuptial bed." So the artist has to take some liberties and experiment. I thought Hanks did a great job of capturing his audience's attention but keeping the film historically accurate.

Second, I absolutely loved the Ben Franklin character. He was hysterically funny, yet had wise insights into the politics of the Congress. If Ben was anything like that in real life, I want to be friends with him in the life to come.

Third, I wondered why Hanks chose to include the scenes of the children’s inoculation. It’s scientifically interesting from a medical-historical perspective, but it doesn’t seem to fit clearly into the central story, at least not explicitly. I wonder if perhaps Hanks included to stand as a sort of metaphor for the colonies’ decision to break ties with England.

For example, the doctor warns Abigail Adams of the dangers associated with inoculation – illness, even death, potentially. Yet she decides the risk of inoculation is worth it to protect her children. This is similar to the risk the colonies took in seceding from Britain and declaring their independence. They faced extreme risks. In spite of Thomas Paine’s optimism for America’s political and economic stability, the colonies stepped out onto a political and financial ‘limb’ by challenging Britain, a major world power.

Similarly, the American colonies were still in their ‘childhood’ – they didn’t have centuries upon centuries of independent history like Great Britain did. They described their relationship with Britain in terms of ‘mother’ country and ‘child.’

Further, in seceding, the American colonies weakened themselves, just as Abigail’s daughter succumbed to an infection from her inoculation. Yet America emerged stronger from her period of challenge and testing.

The film interpreted this time in John Adams life as a time of great growth of character for him personally. By showing Adams under the tutelage of Ben Franklin, the film creates an arc of the development of Adam’s own life. He moves from being almost violently outspoken and alienating his political rivals at the beginning of the film, to understand the ‘politics’ of politics, or being able to reconcile differences in opinion and unite political rivals in order to accomplish the good of the people.

More than the portrayal of John Adams, I loved the portrayal of his wife as strong, independent, and unafraid to express her true feelings to her husband. She was a ‘republican mother’ – she taught her children to love the new America, as in the scene where she and her children read the Declaration of Independence. Most telling to me was the line where she says that women would cut through all the ‘politics’ (in the sense of verbose speeches and stagnancy) and get things done quickly and efficiently. More power to that woman!

Intimations of Divinity

For class on Wednesday we attended the exhibit at the Museum of Art called 'Types and Shadows: Intimations of Divinity." It wasn't the first time I had been to the exhibit, but I definitely saw new things this time around, and I think I'd even like to go back to study more the things that I noticed on Wednesday.

First, the very object of the exhibit is remarkable to me - that our specifically Mormon culture so celebrates art. We seem to understand how art - and all symbolic representations - can lead us to God. Last semester in my French culture class, we discussed the beginning of the Gothic art and architecture movement and read the writings of Abbot Suger, the movement's founder, and Pseudo-Dionysis, an early Saint that he often quoted. These two men believed art to be an essential and enlightening part of religious worship with 'anagogical' - that which leads us to God - character. They believed that God, as the "father of all lights," created all material things, and that thus all material things reflect him, and art's job was to celebrate that light. On the other hand, Saint Bernard disliked art because he felt it distracted from worship. We Mormons tend to agree with Suger and Pseudo-Dionysius, and embrace symbolic representations and explorations of divinity and divine character. I love this, because through symbolism, we are taught 'line upon line.' This is the principle I was trying to get at when I said that new things came to me the second time I saw this exhibit, and that new things will come with the third: God uses symbolic teaching methods (art, Myth [capital M intended, but not explained here]) because it allows for varying and progressive interpretations, and enables man to push beyond the constraints of the temporal to access the divine.

Okay, that was all super theoretical and probably unclear, but what I basically mean is this: God uses symbolism - and in this case, art specifically - to teach us because it's multifaceted. Different people can understand one work in multiple ways, and learn equally valuable things from it. One person can also grow to understand more of a work of art as they study it, and as they have more different life experiences. As for the temporal to the divine, I like what President Packer says in his book The Holy Temple. Basically, he explains that temple ordinances and rites are symbolic, because the spiritual is used to explain the spiritual, and the symbols of the temple are a conduit to from temporal to spiritual.

Second, specifically to this exhibition, my favorite piece was actually not any of the ones we discussed on the tour, but the Brian Kershisnik painting entitled Resurrecting. I love Kershisnik's work - it's all so light-hearted. Resurrecting is again, just that. The painting depicts people joyfully jumping out of their tombs, and a mother running to scoop up her baby into her arms, both newly resurrected. The simple gladness this painting expresses makes me smile every time I see it.

Sober Expectations

Martin Diamond, quite curiously to the amateur historian or fist-pounding patriot, calls the American Revolution a "revolution of sober expectations." Through his description of the Founding Father's sober (that is to say pragmatic or conservative) approach to independence and liberty, Diamond argues that this sobriety made America and her government lasting and durable.

First, Diamond points out that the Declaration of Independence brought forth only half a revolution - it did not, in one breath, wipe out one government and install another. The Founding Fathers, with this document, proclaimed that they had found "self-evident" truths - that men were created equal and laid claim on the government for their protection. They did, however, leave the question of government open-ended. They did not claim to be able to form a government perfectly capable of defending this liberty over night, but rather, quite prudently, aimed to create that government over an extended period time, through what Dr. Hozapfel loves to call "protracted debate." The approach to time is the first evidence of the sobriety Martin talks about.

Second, Diamond says that the Found Fathers didn't ascribe to fanatical devotion to the abstract principle of liberty, but rather took a more conservative view. He compares the American Revolution to the French and Russian Revolutions, both disastrously bloody. The Founding Fathers, as mentioned above, expected change to come gradually and weren't out to radically restructure society based on ideological principles. In contrast, the French and Russian Revolutions opted for extreme, over-night social leveling. Diamond claims, further, "Moderate civil liberty is a possible dream, utopian equality and fraternity are impossible dreams."

Okay, tangent: this idea, that "utopian equality and fraternity are impossible dreams," is a commonly held belief. We, however, as Latter-day Saints, don't see this as an impossibility, at least in the eternities. Instead, we believe that one day, in the eternities, we will live in a Zion society of perfect liberty and perfect fraternity. The difference from classless Marxism is primarily the method of getting there. For Marx, you have to tear the societal system down to build it back up. We believe, on the other hand, that Zion is a process - similarly to the Founding Fathers. Our Zion or Utopia will come over time through individual agency. We're building Zion now. Tangent finished.

Basically, Diamond's second argument is that the American Revolution soberly maintained order, whereas, for example, the French Revolution lost control in the pursuit of idealistic extremes.

Further, although the American Revolution was restrained in its scope of civil liberties, I believe the Founding Fathers did anticipate a broadening of civil liberties over time. For example, although women and blacks couldn't vote at the outset of the American Democracy, the Constitution put the mechanisms into place that would bring forth such change.

Third, Diamond says that the Founding Fathers, in drafting the Constitution, took a "cautious and restrained" view of democracy. They added checks to the popular will to prevent extremism. They must have believed that although a democracy gave way to greater liberty, it was an imperfect system and needed to be bridled, channeled. Our representative system of a democratic republic creates a sort of stratification of popular will that can "mitigate" the defects of democracy.

Sober. Prudent. Farsighted. I think this is what Diamond is getting at.

The Declaration of Independence

Disclaimer: I am no bleeding-heart patriot. The words of the Declaration of Independence do not bring tears to my eyes nor make my heart flutter with pride of country. I'm not going to spend the next 368 words praising the document as a paragon of liberty. Neither, however, am I going to make this into a hyper-critical diatribe. My object in this post is more to figure out what I think of this historical document.

The first thing that strikes me is the great irony of the Declaration of Independence's existence. The document begins with an appeal to Rousseau's philosophy that government is a SOCIAL CONTRACT to justify their move to "dissolve the political bands" that tied them to their mother country. The drafters declared the right to abolish government, but that kind of thought no longer exists as part of the American political identity. In fact, it no longer existed by the time of the Civil War.

Further, the address of grievances to the King, rather than to Parliament (from whence stemmed the listed grievances). This seems to me to be primarily because a cry for greater liberty is more poignant when it's against a King - a figurehead - than against a group. The colonial system of government, as well as the system the Founding Fathers were looking to set up, were by similar groups. By trying to mark the British as monarchial, rather than moving-towards-republican, they could add more clout to their argument as the more just and liberal cause.

It is worth noting, on this same note, that the signers of the Declaration of Independence did not explicitly suggest what kind of government would replace the one they threw off. It is evident, however, that the government would be less centralized. The name they gave their new nation was the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA which were "FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES." This title itself recognizes the decentralization the signers wanted. Each state would be semi-autonomous. As "free" and "independent," the signers acknowledge this political principle espoused by Locke and Rousseau - consent of the governed. The states would consent to be governed by a central authority. Although none of this is explicit in the document itself, knowing the history of the Constitution makes it easy to see evidences for the type of government the Founding Fathers sought to build in their newborn nation.