American Statesmanship: Principles and Practice of Leadership

This book, much needed in our public discourse, examines some of the most significant political leaders in American history.

With an eye on the elusive qualities of political greatness, this anthology considers the principles and practices of diverse political leaders who influenced the founding and development of the American experiment in self-government. Providing both breadth and depth, this work is a virtual “who’s who” from the founding to modern times. From George Washington to Frederick Douglass and Elizabeth Cady Stanton to FDR and Ronald Reagan, the book’s twenty-six chapters are thematically organized to include a brief biography of each subject, his or her historical context, and the core principles and policies that led to political success or failure. A final chapter considers the rhetorical legacy of Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Barack Obama, and Donald Trump. Nearly all readers agree that statesmanship makes a crucial difference in the life of a nation and its example is sorely needed in America today. These concise portraits will appeal to experts as well as history buffs. The volume is ideal for leadership and political science classroom use in conjunction with primary sources.

Contributors: Kenneth L. Deutsch, Gary L. Gregg II, David Tucker, Sean D. Sutton, Bruce P. Frohnen, Stephanie P. Newbold, Phillip G. Henderson, Michael P. Federici, Troy L. Kickler, Johnathan O’Neill, H. Lee Cheek, Jr., Carey Roberts, Hans Schmeisser, Joseph R. Fornieri, Peter C. Myers, Emily Krichbaum, Natalie Taylor, Jean M. Yarbrough, Christopher Burkett, Will Morrisey, Elizabeth Edwards Spalding, Patrick J. Garrity, Giorgi Areshidze, William J. Atto, David B. Frisk, Mark Blitz, Jeffrey Crouch, and Mark J. Rozell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: University of Notre Dame Press
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9780268201043

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

What Is Statesmanship?

KENNETH L. DEUTSCH

We honor greatness in the respective domains of entertainment, sports, art, science, and finance. But what of political greatness? Of what qualities does it consist? By what standard should it be measured? Does it require an apprenticeship, a disciplined study of the great masters, like the successful practice of other crafts? Our Founders certainly thought so. George Washington went so far as to propose a national university that would train future citizens and leaders alike in the rights and responsibilities of democratic governance. Similarly, in Article XVIII of the Massachusetts Constitution of 1780, John Adams emphasized the need for a continual return to first principles as a means to revitalize the political faith of the country:

A frequent recurrence to the fundamental principles of the constitution, and a constant adherence to those of piety, justice, moderation, temperance, industry, and frugality, are absolutely necessary to preserve the advantages of liberty and to maintain a free government. The people ought, consequently, to have a particular attention to all those principles, in the choice of their officers and representatives; and they have a right to require of their lawgivers and magistrates an exact and constant observation of them, in the formation and execution of the laws necessary for the good administration of the commonwealth.

The title of this volume, American Statesmanship: Principles and Practice of Leadership, is an effort to take seriously Washington’s and Adams’s advice in returning to those founding principles and practices that help sustain the American regime. The example of past greatness combined with the power of enduring principle prepares each generation to confront future threats to the inseparable bonds of liberty and union. Indeed, the present may be renewed in light of the success and failures of the past. While the authors and contributors of this volume may differ over who should be included among the ranks as a statesperson, they nonetheless all agree that statesmanship makes a crucial difference in the life of a nation and that its example is sorely needed today. The purpose of this volume is to contemplate the nature and legacy of American statesmanship through the speech and deeds of some of its most influential leaders. The reader should be aware that not all the leaders included in the volume have reached the high standard of statesmanship. Some fell short and are included as a cautionary tale. Others might object that reformers like Frederick Douglass, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Susan B. Anthony should not be included in the volume since they pressured government from outside the citadels of power rather than ruling directly through an official position in government. While there are differences between reform leadership and statesmanship, most notably in terms of the requirements of official duty, a too-restrictive definition of statesmanship would deprive us of studying the important influence reform leaders have had on American politics, their unique form of public service, and their dynamic interaction with elected officials. In what follows, we hope readers will ponder the qualities or virtues of statesmanship as displayed fully or even partially in the leaders in this volume.

As the great twentieth-century political philosopher Leo Strauss put it, we constantly need to be reminded of what constitutes political greatness, human greatness, and the peaks of human excellence. In doing so, we must remind ourselves concerning statesmanship never to mistake mediocrity, however brilliant, for true greatness. We must, Strauss claims, make every effort to describe and understand these rare peaks of political life, which put ordinary and prosaic forms of leadership in their proper perspective. True political greatness, statesmanship, does not make us despise the run-of-the-mill or transactional leaders who merely provide services to their constituents, but it does allow us to see their limits.¹ There is a tendency in our democratic life to homogenize reality—to ignore those qualitative distinctions that constitute political reality. The study of political greatness—statesmanship—is a good antidote to this leveling tendency of a hyper-democratic age. All forms of leadership are not the same. We must be able to make thoughtful distinctions between the ambition of the noble statesman such as Lincoln, who aimed to be worthy of the esteem of his fellow citizens, the imperial ambition of Napoleon that gradually became indistinguishable from cold despotism, and the crude ambition of mediocre or selfish politicians who crave political success pursuing custodial management or utopian dreams. As a self-governing nation, we especially must make moral distinctions and judgments about leadership, thereby recognizing political greatness whenever it occurs and fostering its development wherever possible.

Statesmanship is a conjunction of superior natural ability—high theoretical and practical intelligence along with acquired political experience that enables a public person to pursue the common good. It combines the arts of political strategy, political oratory, and political judgment with the art of utilizing the different skills and talents of diverse individuals in the service of the general well-being of society. To put it briefly, it involves the political skills and characteristics to know when and how to persuade subordinates and the public, and when and how to exercise necessary methods of coercion. This proper mix of persuasion and coercion in serving the common interest is the major part of what statesmanship is about.

Now a statesman is to a politician what a true virtuoso musician is to a mere player. The statesman does not simply exercise power—he or she effectively advances the quality of life of a people in terms of (a) the nation’s founding principles, (b) the requirements of immediate decisions, and (c) the concern for future generations.

What, then, are the qualities or virtues of a statesman? The nineteenth-century American public intellectual Orestes Brownson gave us a good start in answering this question when he stated that What is especially needed in statesmen is public spirit, intelligence, foresight, broad views, manly feelings, wisdom, energy and resolution.² In presenting such a long list of ideals there is a real risk of creating some mythical figure one would find impossible to identify in real life. We should consider them to be qualities of character or virtues that potential statesmen would strive to reach in practice, though falling somewhat short in some respects. These virtues or qualities are indeed rare in any era. Yet they are needed to sustain ordered liberty, most especially when facing a national crisis. We need to take seriously these virtues as citizens and political analysts by judging our past, present, or future leaders. As citizens in a constitutional democracy, such judgments enable us to make sound political choices and train ourselves for possible leadership roles. While there will continue to be a debate over what standard should be used to measure statesmanship, some qualities seem to be enduring. These include the cardinal virtues of prudence or practical wisdom, courage, moderation, and justice.

For Aristotle, a statesman must master and embody the three rhetorical appeals of ethos, pathos, and logos.³ Ethos pertains to the statesman’s character. It is the source of one’s credibility as a speaker and leader. Pathos refers to the leader’s ability to move people emotionally. It appeals to the audience’s heart. Logos denotes the ability to provide sound arguments for particular political decisions, thereby moving people intellectually. In sum, statesmanship requires an extraordinary person who possesses both an uncommon as well as a common touch—uncommon enough to inspire people to struggle and sometimes sacrifice to achieve a good end and common enough so that the public can trust, identify, and empathize with such a leader.

In regard to logos, the statesman must have considerable native intelligence—possessing insight combined with sound and rapid judgment. Ideally, he or she should possess a theoretical grasp of the common good and the founding principles of the regime. This virtue is called theoretical wisdom. It involves a noble vision of what ought to be and of the proper norms that should guide the regime. One of the common themes in this volume is the leader’s understanding and relationship to the founding principles of the American regime. Secondly, he or she also possesses the practical wisdom of prudence, the ability to realize as much of this noble vision as possible under the circumstances. Guided by a noble vision, the statesman diagnoses the core of a nation’s problems, analyzing cause-effect relations and thereby reaching sound prudential judgments without undue delay. This means grasping the particular context of decision-making and different personality types. In sum, the intellectual resources for a statesman to make sound and decisive political choices are derived from both theoretical knowledge of the common good and of the nation’s ideals and the practical knowledge of the actual political conditions and resources available.

Although a statesman must take note of public opinion in a democracy, he or she resists subservience or intimidation. Neither can the statesman be bought. Like Plato’s master weaver in The Statesman, he or she recognizes how private groups such as the family, religious institutions, and corporations provide appropriate forms of leadership that pertain to what belongs to them. This is also known as the principle of subsidiarity: the recognition of discrete levels of authority within a society and the appreciation of the distinction between the public and private sphere. However, when these groups impinge upon the public interest, the statesman must act. As noted in appealing to ethos, pathos, and logos, the statesman must possess the rhetorical skill to communicate the nation’s true needs to both colleagues and the public at large. In sum, the transcendent purpose of a statesman is to impart the central ideas of the regime to the public. In the American regime this means ordered liberty, the equal rights to consent to be governed, the rule of law, and limited government. The statesman must be a public educator with regard to those central ideas and the true public needs of the nation by promoting educational excellence, military security, fiscal integrity, realistic environmental protection, infrastructure supports, and public order. In addition to the persuasive appeals of ethos, pathos, and logos, what are some other qualities displayed by great statesmen?

The statesman must demonstrate resolution. He or she must possess firm convictions as to what truly constitutes the common good of the nation. Nothing can dissuade a true statesman from addressing the greatest concerns of the regime—whether it is Lincoln with the extension of slavery, or Charles de Gaulle in facing the colonial Algerian rebellion, or Winston Churchill addressing the Nazi menace to his nation. Resolutely, the statesman, when necessary, risks everything in dealing with these common goods—reputation, career, safety, and even life itself. The statesman cannot get the problems of the people off his or her mind. As Werner Dannhauser once put it, the very essence of statesmanship is difficulty and the surmounting of obstacles.⁴ Very often when keeping the people constantly in mind, the statesman must be concerned with their hearts and minds—constantly being focused on forming the habits of public spirit. The statesman must possess the energy that produces resolve and confidence in serving the people.

The statesman must be well ahead of his or her fellow citizens in considering possible or probable long-term political developments—this is foresight! It enables him or her to detect difficulties when they are far enough ahead to be diverted or reduced in scale. A statesman can often see what many others cannot.

The statesman must also be a public educator. Cicero notes how stately speakers are scarce, for one has to acquire knowledge about a formidable quantity of different matters. In order to do this, his or her education must have been of such quality as to bring profound theoretical and practical knowledge through study, travel, and life experiences of diverse social problems and individual personalities. The statesman’s own education should include the liberal arts and sciences, being widely read and having lifelong intellectual curiosity. A fine education for a potential statesman must include moral and political philosophy, American and world history, political biography (especially the lives and writings of great statesmen and tyrants), and the study of foreign cultures and how these different cultures lead to different national characters. All of this should contribute to producing a thoughtful statesman with both positive and negative models to reflect on.

Finally, humility and magnanimity (or greatness of soul) are absolutely necessary for a sober statesman to be formed. The virtue of humility shows self-awareness of one’s own limitations and the limitations of the human condition. The statesman is willing to acknowledge mistakes and to learn from his or her mistakes, avoiding utopian fantasies. This quality of humility will also mean preparing his or her successors to pursue and accomplish what the statesman was not able to accomplish in his or her term in office. Moderating one’s own expectations, those of the people, and those of one’s possible successors is perhaps the toughest job of a statesman. The statesman’s moderation and humility may provide a powerful model of inspiration that can teach statecraft to a future generation. All of this reveals the final virtue of a statesman—namely, magnanimity or greatness of soul. This is found in two senses of the term—to be a sacrificial servant and protector of a people’s well-being and full recognition that whatever talents one possesses as a statesman must be approached with a spiritual sense of gratitude to nature or to God. Coupled with this sense of gratitude is a great sense of public spirit and public service. Statesmanship as we have presented it is, to be sure, a rare phenomenon. But so are the most excellent singers, guitar players, basketball players, teachers, or scientists.

It may be argued that the American presidency in our political context discourages statesmanship. The students and practitioners of the American presidency place heavy emphasis on skill alone rather than character and ethos. They emphasize transformational innovations, managerial skill, or subservience to democratic sentiment. We have a great difficulty understanding, respecting, and promoting statesmanship because we are now somewhat prisoners of the Woodrow Wilson view of leadership in a democracy. Wilson believed that the popular statesman must incarnate the spirit of the people by selecting from currents of public opinion those that he or she regards as progressive (based on administrative expertise) and then transforming those opinions from latency to actuality. Instead of acting on the basis of the virtuous qualities discussed above, the Wilsonian popular so-called statesman operates entirely on the currents of popular opinion alone. For Wilson, both the demagogue and the so-called statesman simply respond to the common inclinations of the people: the demagogue trims to the inclination of the moment, while the popular, Wilsonian statesman obeys what he or she considers to be the general progressive inclinations of the public mind. Gone are the moral principles of the common good, the qualities of resolution, wisdom, foresight, personal sacrifice, humility, magnanimity, or risking public displeasure when necessary. Gone is a concern for educating and ennobling public sentiment! As our society is more deprived of a well-educated citizenry, strong private groups, stable families, and vibrant religious organizations that foster timely instruction and self-discipline, we require ever more the principled and courageous vision and public dedication of the true statesman. Today’s cancellation of the Founders and Lincoln deprives us of sorely needed models that once inspired future political greatness. Just when we need such statesmanship the most, we experience little public recognition of greatness in leadership. In addition to the Wilsonian example, current educational models seem to conflate statesmanship with salesmanship or with technical expertise apart from character. These models produce resistance rather than assistance in renewing the prospects of true statesmanship in this nation. Citizens, public intellectuals, and political analysts must persevere in fostering excellence in the realm of public leadership. It will be a tough pursuit both intellectually and politically. Our republic requires it, needs it, and deserves it.

This book will examine some of the most significant leaders in American history in terms of the nature, virtue, and task of statesmanship. The inclusion of some leaders and the omission of others will always be a matter of debate. While the editors do not necessarily share the views of the contributors, we do agree upon the political influence of each of these leaders on the development of the American regime. To be sure, each is judged in terms of being more or less statesmanlike. This volume also includes some notable failures of statesmanship. Just as a physician must have an understanding of both health and disease, so we should have an understanding of political health and pathology.

Above all, the statesman is committed body and soul to public service and to the preservation of the nation both physically and in terms of its moral character. Which of our leaders are more or less effective in bringing along the public by personal example, by argument, by coercive measures when necessary, and by a rhetoric that uses words in our language that enhance support for the public good?

Notes

1. Spontaneous remarks by Leo Strauss on hearing of the death of Churchill, University of Chicago, January 25, 1965. See Statesmanship: Essays in Honor of Sir Winston Churchill, ed. Harry V. Jaffa (Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 1981), ix.

2. Orestes A. Brownson, The Need of Statesmen, in Literary, Scientific, and Political Views of Orestes A. Brownson (New York: Benziger Brothers, 1893), 175.

3. These three qualities correspond to Aristotle’s three rhetorical appeals based on ethos (character), pathos (feeling), and logos (reason). See Aristotle’s Rhetoric (1356a) in The Rhetoric and Poetics of Aristotle (New York: Modern Library College Editions, McGraw-Hill, 1984), 24–25.

4. Werner Dannhauser, Reflections on Statesmanship and Bureaucracy, in Bureaucrats, Policy Analysts, Statesmen: Who Leads?, ed. Robert A. Goldwin (Washington, DC: American Enterprise Institute, 1980), 118.

George Washington, print created ca. 1894 from an original image by Gilbert Stuart

(Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2018697464/)

CHAPTER 1

The Statesmanship of George Washington

GARY L. GREGG II

The man with the stiff smile and perfectly coifed hair stares up at us from our money. He broods down at us from his cold perch atop Mount Rushmore. His obelisk stands as one of the iconic monuments in our nation’s capitol. What we have come to know of George Washington is largely of these grand but unapproachable images. We refer to him as the Father of our Country, but he is a distant, stoic, and cold paternal figure; he is not one many of us recognize as a model politician, much less a good family man for the twenty-first century.

This image comes to us naturally from the man who was often distant and aloof even while he was alive. Few got to know the man behind the facade and it is understandable that we might agree with Nathaniel Hawthorne’s exaggeration that he seemed to have been born with his clothes on and his hair powdered, giving a stately bow upon his first appearance in the world.¹ But Washington was not born the statesman he would become; he actively made himself in the image he found necessary for his country and that he saw modeled in ancient history. To be more precise, he actively attempted to create himself as a kind of stoic Roman general and statesman for the New World. In the process, he changed from being an ambitious and arrogant young man, trying to make his way in the world and serve his king, into a military leader that defeated an empire, founded a new nation, and then relinquished power voluntarily. In the process, he changed our very expectations of statesmanship in the modern world.

Washington’s Life—A Brief Overview

Though he was not born in a log cabin in abject poverty, Washington was also not the stereotypical boy of privilege that many have come to assume. He was born to an entrepreneurial and hardworking father who had been educated in England and who had also sent his oldest son to follow in his footsteps at the Appleby School. When George was only eleven years old, however, his father died. The family had no money to send him away to school as they had his elder brother, Lawrence. His formal education would be meager, though he did learn to read and write and made a study of a set of Rules for Civility from which he learned how to carry himself in public, to treat others properly, and, in turn, to earn their respect. In writing or speaking, give to every person his due title according to his degree & the custom of the place.² These rules for proper behavior would well serve any statesman-in-training in the eighteenth century and are among the keys to understanding Washington’s very formal demeanor later in life.

Being the second son, George inherited only a small and less than desirable farm from his father’s estate. Without a formal education or large inheritance, young Washington knew he would have to make his own place in the world. As a teenager he set himself to learning the trade of surveying land. He was good at it and, with an entrepreneurial spirit like his father’s, he invested his earnings in yet-undeveloped lands. But having a trade and acquiring wealth was never enough for young Washington. He admired his older brother Lawrence, who had made a modest name for himself in military service. When Lawrence also died too young, Washington stepped forward to volunteer for military service and so began a career that would allow him to change the world and found a new nation.

Washington’s experiences as a diplomat, spy, and provincial officer leading up to and then during the French and Indian War were formative to the man and the leader he would become. His courage never in question, he volunteered for missions that he lacked the experience and skills to take on. He had a driving ambition and pride that allowed him to request promotions and assignments that he seemed to lack the credentials to demand. Though it is almost never remembered today, he actually ended up starting the French and Indian War by overseeing an ambush of a French force deep in the Allegheny Mountains of what now is southwestern Pennsylvania. Soon after the skirmish, he would brag in a letter to his brother, I heard Bullets whistle and believe me there is something charming in the sound. His braggadocio would make it into newspapers around the colonies and in Europe. Reportedly, even King George II was moved to comment on the young officer. Of Washington’s charmed reaction to the whistle of enemy musket balls, the king remarked, He would not say so, if he had been used to hear many.³ Indeed, within weeks, this first sweet taste of victory turned into bitter defeat as he was forced to surrender in humiliation at Fort Necessity. Before the end of the French and Indian War (1754–1763), however, he would come back to win universal praise for his heroic acts to save both redcoats and militia forces during the Battle of Monongahela (1755). That battle, part of the British attempt to liberate the Forks of the Ohio (modern day Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) from the French, found Washington, under withering fire, taking command and rallying British regulars and Virginia militia out of a bloody ambush.

He served his king and country and became the Hero of Monongahela, but Washington would go on within a few decades to serve as the commander in chief of the colonial forces that would challenge that same country and her king. Outmanned, out trained, and often with paltry support from the Continental Congress, Washington held his army together against the redcoats, sometimes taking the fight to the enemy, sometimes disappearing in the night to fight another day, but always with the goal of holding his force together so that they could strike when the right moments came. Whether it be the bold raid across the Delaware on that cold Christmas of 1776 or the bottling up of the enemy forces at Yorktown to end the war, enough of those right moments came and his army was ready for them. Independence would be won significantly on the back of the man who had the gravitas and the vision to hold the effort together, even during the darkest of days.

Having won independence, Washington turned to the task of educating his soldier-leaders in the ethics of free government and the expectations of the new age. He would go on to shock the world by refusing a crown, giving up power, and going home to his farm. Always an admirer of the great Romans, he would become America’s Cincinnatus and inspire new expectations for statesmanship. After taking a crown and a continent and then losing it all, Napoleon Bonaparte lamented, They wanted me to be another Washington!⁴

Washington’s retirement did not last long, however. When his country needed him again, he stepped up to become a leader in the efforts to amend the Articles of Confederation. Indeed, while many consider Washington a latecomer to the fight for a new constitutional order, he was, in fact, arguing for a type of constitutional convention even as the Revolution was coming to an end. In August 1786, for instance, he would write to John Jay of the troubles he saw in the existing order, wondering if it had been built on a foundation that did not adequately reflect human nature. He lamented a rise in the acceptability of monarchy that seemed to come in response to government weakness and argued that a government with more coercive powers must be established if a coming crisis were to be averted.

We have probably had too good an opinion of human nature in forming our confederation. Experience has taught us, that men will not adopt & carry into execution, measures the best calculated for their own good without the intervention of a coercive power. I do not conceive we can exist long as a nation, without having lodged somewhere a power which will pervade the whole Union in as energetic a manner, as the authority of the different state governments extends over the several States. . . . What then is to be done? Things cannot go on in the same train forever. It is much to be feared, as you observe, that the better kind of people being disgusted with the circumstances will have their minds prepared for any revolution whatever. We are apt to run from one extreme into another. To anticipate & prevent disastrous contingencies would be the part of wisdom & patriotism.⁵

When the convention did meet the following summer, Washington lent his own reputation to the proceedings by not only attending but serving as the presiding officer. During the debates, Washington managed the conversations but said little himself. There is some debate on what role he might have played behind the scenes, but it is indisputable that his position as president lent the proceedings and its product an irreplaceable air of legitimacy.

His presence and his actions in resigning power had a profound impact on the very creation of the office of president itself. While most states had very weak or no executive authority and while some delegates argued for a plural executive or one very limited in power, Washington’s actions inspired others to believe a different kind of office was possible. Without Washington’s statesmanship during the Revolution, it is likely there would be no office at all like the one created in Article II of the Constitution. Then, even though his worldwide reputation had already been secured above further embellishment, he agreed to serve in the experiment of a new government under the Constitution of 1789. He had achieved a fame worthy of any Roman but selflessly risked it all to help ensure his country had a new start on the strongest terms.

Often we skip over the details and importance of Washington’s presidency. We think of him presiding over a limited government during relatively simple times. This perspective, however, masks the importance of his eight years as chief executive. Most importantly, it is worth noting that he did everything for the very first time. As he observed, he walked on untrodden ground. There had never been an office of statesmanship quite like the presidency created by the Constitutional Convention. It was republican and elected and yet was a repository of some centralization of authority and was sketched out in broad constitutional mandates. What did it mean to be commander in chief? How, exactly, was the president to ensure the laws would be faithfully executed? How was he to work with the United States Senate in creating and ratifying treaties or appointing ambassadors and top domestic government officials? How was the president to conduct himself in public and in official business? With no good model to follow and with the constitutional mandates of Article II being vaguely written, George Washington had to invent the office around him as he went. As he did, he established precedents that could be followed by other chief executives and other statesmen who followed him. Cognizant of his place as first statesman of the new republic, he wrote to James Madison in May 1789, As the first in everything, our situation will serve to establish a Precedent, it is devoutly wished on my part that these precedents may be fixed on true principles.⁶

After giving his nation the solid start of a term as president, he tried to retire again, but was prevailed upon by James Madison and others that his nation still needed him. Retirement finally came after two terms as president and with it he established the important expectation that presidential power was limited both in scope and duration. The two-term limit he established became so powerfully set that no president successfully challenged it for more than 130 years, and then the nation decided to codify it as the Twenty-Second Amendment to the Constitution.

Washington never simply left his station and moved on, but always sought to use his exits as moments of service and statesmanship. His farewells to his army and his resignation speech at Annapolis are great examples. Most famous today, though, is his Farewell Address that was offered as he prepared to leave the American presidency. That speech continues today to be read annually on the floor of the United States Senate. In that address, he urged the American people to focus on what united them rather than what divided them. He warned against political parties and their divisiveness, urged a fidelity to the Constitution, warned against entangling alliances with other nations, and argued that religion and morality must be cherished as indispensable supports for political prosperity: Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, Religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of Patriotism, who should labor to subvert these great Pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of Men and citizens.⁷

Even in his retirement and not many months before his time on earth would expire, Washington heard his county’s call and again put his reputation on the line for the greater good of his nation. President John Adams had no business asking for the elder statesman to come out of retirement to head the American Army in what might have evolved into a war with France, but he did. Unsurprising given what we know of his character, Washington yet again responded to the call to serve. Fortunately, no war came. During his last year of life, Washington rewrote his last will and testament. In that forgotten but very important document, the father of his country stepped forth to add the power of his name and example to the efforts to end slavery. He provided for the freeing of his slaves, the education of their young, and the care for the elderly and infirm who could no longer work for their bread. It was his last great act of public service.

Washington’s was a life worthy of any of the greatest Romans who served as his exemplars. His life polished anew the greatest lessons of the statesmen of antiquity and established a new nation that, founded upon his example, set the course for a reinvigoration of great statesmanship in the modern world. The remainder of this chapter is dedicated to some of the key moments and lessons from his extraordinary life that in so many ways established America itself and the institutions through which statesmanship has been expressed in our history. The reader should keep in mind that what Washington accomplished was so extraordinary that no chapter could even begin to explore the highlights. In fact, one of his best biographers, Douglas Southall Freeman, took seven volumes to tell the story of his life. Of necessity, the remainder of this chapter will only deal with a few moments in his extraordinary life as America’s founding statesman.

Being a Statesman—Acting the Part

George Washington was an avid theatergoer. He even used plays to entertain and edify his troops during the Revolution (including during a period when Congress had prohibited such thespian activities). The play that influenced Washington the most was Joseph Addison’s Cato: A Tragedy. That play recounts the Roman hero’s last days as he defended the old republic and faced down the emerging tyranny of Julius Caesar. Washington quoted liberally from the play in his correspondence and had it enacted by his troops during that terrible winter at Valley Forge. He would come back to its lessons in statesmanship as he found his own path through his public life.

As he prepared himself for the presidency, Washington would advise his nephew, if you mean to make any figure upon the stage, . . . you should take the first steps right.⁸ What Washington was able to accomplish as a political leader was, to a large degree, made possible by his understanding that leadership is often a type of acting. To be a statesman was to enact the role of the statesman as if upon a stage. Such a role must be animated by core values, such as those discussed in the introductory chapter to this volume, but it is a role that must evolve in its execution with changing circumstances. A prudent thinker and keen observer, Washington understood this and adapted to the needs of the moment.

When discussing George Washington’s leadership, one cannot divorce his basic physicality from his thoughts and his actions. It was at least in part because he was taller, more muscular, and stronger than most of his peers that he was chosen for leadership from a young age. He augmented his natural gifts with an upright carriage and impeccable choice of dress. Always dignified, often distant, he cultivated a deep respect from his men during the Revolution and from the people during his presidency. His demeanor at all times composed and dignified. His movements and gestures graceful, his walk majestic, is how a fellow officer would describe him during the French and Indian War.⁹ From an early age he cultivated the image of a military leader and then used that image to loan dignity to his immature nation and encourage trust among its people.

America in the twenty-first century finds itself partway between two worlds. Many in Europe today consider the private life of political figures to be wholly irrelevant to their jobs as public servants. France, where open infidelities are carried out with a shrug, is a good example of this pole. On the other end we find George Washington, who acted always as if there were public consequences to his private actions. America today is torn between these two poles. The statesmanship of George Washington was built upon the firm foundation of private morality and public efficacy. He chose the role he would play; he put on the mask of the man he wished to become; he led a nation from public office and inspired generations with private morality. For Washington, being a statesman, particularly at the founding of a new enterprise, meant being above reproach and beyond censure. He would set the tone for the new nation, not just in public affairs but in private character as well.

The new position of President of the United States was written in the Constitution with specific executive roles and responsibilities. But executing the laws is only part of the function of chief executives. Being the sole national figure, the president, like monarchs, must also represent the people during ceremonial functions and during times when symbolic actions are necessary. One can think, for instance, of the situation in Britain during the Blitz when it took both Winston Churchill’s decisiveness as well as the king’s confidence-inspiring words and actions to rally the people against the Nazi onslaught. In America, we combine these two essential roles into one office. George Washington understood all this perfectly well and embraced the symbolic aspects of the office—infusing it and the nation with his own private virtues.

Another key to Washington’s statesmanship was his ability to unite a people who had no long and ready history as a nation to call upon. To paraphrase historian Forrest McDonald, Washington had an ability to unite the people who had been habitually used to the adoration of a amonarch and to give the people time to unite under a love of country that does not develop easily or overnight.¹⁰ King George III, as Father of His People, was replaced in the North American colonies by George Washington, Father of His Country. Washington embraced this role and always attempted to act in ways that would unite and not divide his country.

His actions in office were often aimed at the vital goal of uniting the nation and encouraging the service of a common good. As president, he visited New England first, but made sure to tour the southern states soon thereafter. He reached across the religious aisle to create common bonds between Protestants, Catholics, and Jews. In 1790, for instance, he wrote to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport of the nation’s policy of placing objective good behavior ahead of sectarian concerns. The Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no factions, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.¹¹ Knowing he would not always be on the stage to set the unifying tone for the nation, he also asked Congress to fund a national university to educate the future guardians of the liberties of the Country. Washington wrote: Amongst the motives to such an Institution, the assimilation of the principles, opinions and manners of our Country men, but the common education of a portion of our Youth from every quarter, well deserves attention. The more homogeneous our Citizens can be made in these particulars, the greater will be our prospect of permanent Union; and a primary object of such a National Institution should be, the education of our Youth in the science of Government.¹²

In his famous Farewell Address, he took time as he ended his presidency to warn the country yet again against the Spirit of Party, calling it a fire not to be quenched, and warning that it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest instead of warming it should consume.¹³ To appropriate a phrase from twenty-first century politics, the object of his statesmanship was very much to be a uniter, not a divider.

These efforts at unity and developing a common understanding of a national common good did not become easier while he was in office. He faced challenges like the Whiskey Rebellion in western Pennsylvania in 1794. He resolved that crisis by insisting on the rule of law and using military force to ensure it. Then, on the other hand, he turned around in 1795 and pardoned those implicated in the rebellion. He ended the crisis, but those involved and their families were not permanently alienated from their country. Washington also formed his government around the principal of consultation and cooperation. He formed the first cabinet of ministers and picked outstanding men, like Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton, that represented various factions within the new nation. In major and contentious decisions, like on the creation of a national bank, he solicited opinions from both Jefferson and Hamilton before making his final decision. Everyone would participate and every voice would be heard. He always attempted to stay above the political fray and to discourage the formation of political parties but that did not mean he was without strong convictions on what the country needed. When tough decisions needed to be made, he was ready to make them, such as when his cabinet and the nation were deeply divided between helping Great Britain or France when those two superpowers were at war. Washington’s decision was his innovative and controversial Proclamation of Neutrality issued in April 1793 that kept his young and relatively weak nation out of the war. His political convictions, honed on the battlefields of the Revolution, influenced his decisions aimed at unifying his people as much as possible, strengthening the central government as he could, and keeping America out of foreign wars. He succeeded in the latter two goals, but further unity was illusive with Thomas Jefferson eventually becoming alienated enough to leave the administration to raise a political party in opposition to the prevailing policies.

Providing statesmanship for a new nation in its cradle of development, Washington painfully understood the stakes and resolved always to act in ways that would support the rule of law rather than encourage the adulation of men. Above all, this meant exhibiting the virtues of humility, a character trait that did not come naturally to him, and self-restraint. We have already mentioned his crucial service in resigning power after the war and refusing to stay on as president. We will see more in this vein before our discussion of Washington is at an end.

Self-Discipline and the Statesmanship of Restraint

Even though he could have, Washington did not exercise his power without proper authority. Shortly after independence had been declared, British Admiral Richard Howe sent emissaries to Washington with hints of a peace offering. Washington refused to accept the missive because it was addressed to him as if he were a private man with power rather than a public man with authority. Only after several attempts to get the address right did Howe succeed in getting Washington to accept the letter. Washington had insisted on being addressed as General, as a military officer in the service of his nation and under the authority of a civilian government. His power was not self-generated but came on loan from the people’s representatives in Congress. The Continental Congress lauded him for acting with dignity becoming his station.¹⁴

During the Revolution, he never failed to turn over his men accused of crimes by civilian authorities, even though he knew many of the charges were bogus. Civilian justice must be seen to trump the loyalty of men in arms. He gave orders to investigate all claims of his men that they were being held in service beyond their agreements, no matter how much they may have originated in the levity of the soldier [more] than in truth.¹⁵ There were several minor mutinies during the war, the biggest coming in January 1781 when the Pennsylvania Line mutinied after the turn of the new year and what they believed should have been the end of their three-year commitments to serve. The mutiny represented an extremely dangerous time for the Revolution, but the leaders of the effort spurned British attempts to persuade them to switch sides and they eventually settled their grievances. Washington engaged to use the opportunity to press the dire condition of the army and ask the states to fulfill their obligations to the men. Soon thereafter, however, another smaller mutiny took place among some New Jersey soldiers. This time Washington knew he had to end it in a way that would discourage further such rebellions that could threaten the very foundations of the war effort. He ordered key mutineers summarily executed by their fellow soldiers. Once done and the example established, however, Washington gave orders to investigate claims and set things right. Having punished guilt and supported authority, it now becomes proper to do justice.¹⁶

Like the dictators of ancient Rome who were occasionally empowered with extraordinary authorities in order to save the nation, Washington was so empowered on two occasions. In 1776 and again in 1777 the civilian authorities who were fleeing the enemy forces gave Washington power to unilaterally direct all things relative to the operation of the war. Unlike some of his Roman predecessors, however, Washington wielded this extraordinary power with admirable humility and restraint. He never abused his power but held fidelity to the sovereignty of the people through their elected representatives as paramount.

His first act as president-elect was to refuse to act. Though it is hard to imagine in our modern world, George Washington refused to deal with presidential business or go to the capitol before every constitutional detail of his election was executed. Though everyone knew he had been elected in December 1788 (the vote of the Electoral College was unanimous), he found it inappropriate to act until Congress had met and counted the ballots as is required by the Constitution. Congress was slow to get a quorum and his inauguration ended up being delayed two months. Despite being somewhat cash strapped, the new president insisted his pay be docked for the time he was not in actual service. Once in office, Washington’s humility before the rule of law meant that he would further refuse to act when he did not see a clear constitutional power or authority from Congress. At the inauguration of his successor, the hero of the Revolution and the father of his country bid even the new vice president, Thomas Jefferson, to precede him off the dais. The American republic was about constitutional authority and not a cult of personality.

Statesmanship in Crisis and Founding, Saving the Republic and Resigning Power

To cast Washington’s example of great statesmanship in relief, let us focus on a moment of extraordinary leadership where all of Washington’s virtues were on display. Indeed, they were all needed to save the Revolution and properly establish republican expectations for American statesmanship. The moment comes at the end of the American Revolution. On the battlefield the war had been won with Cornwallis’s surrender at Yorktown on October 19, 1781. It would be nearly two years fraught with great danger and many challenges for statesmanship, however, before the Treaty of Paris was signed and independence officially secured. Here, Washington’s statesmanship in a time of crisis would be at its best.

He was almost universally admired and had won a worldwide reputation for virtue and leadership. He had led, after all, an ill-equipped and poorly provisioned group of colonials against a world empire and won. His men loved and admired him and many would have crowned him and upon hearing his orders would have crossed our Rubicon, just as Caesar’s men crossed the institutional boundaries of the Roman Republic. Today we lightly dismiss the reference to Washington being offered a crown as a pleasant fable, like him purportedly cutting down his father’s cherry tree. But we should not so lightly pass over this moment. He was offered the crown, but more importantly still, he could have demanded the crown and few would have thought it out of bounds. Indeed in the spring of 1782, Colonel Lewis Nicola wrote to Washington telling the general of efforts he supported within the ranks to give Washington America’s new kingship. In response to a temptation that would have been the better of almost any such conquering general before him, Washington’s rebuke of Colonel Nicola was swift and sharp. He said that knowing such ideas even existed within the army gave him more pain than did any other occurrence during the war.¹⁷ Thoroughly embarrassed, Nicola ended up writing three separate apologies to his general. Washington had resisted the eternal dream for power and passed a key test of republican statesmanship. In so doing, he began to establish a new expectation for the American people and their leaders.

When the war was well won and the peace treaty signed, Washington took up the task of teaching republican virtue and the necessities of creating a stronger and balanced central government to his soldiers and fellow citizens. As he would write to Theodorick Bland in April 1783, We have now a National character to establish.¹⁸ This is a period of Washington’s service that few have paid much attention to and yet it is here that Washington begins to lay down certain essential foundations for republican government in America. Indeed, four years before the Constitutional Convention convenes, it is Washington who is calling for just such a meeting to revise the Articles of Confederation. He was no passive latecomer to the game of constitutionalism, as so often has been assumed.

Washington understood the potential pitfalls of being seen as a triumphant military commander intervening in politics, but he felt the stakes were too high to be silent. In June 1783, he told the states that he wrote of his political vision because in the crisis at the time, silence in me would be a crime, and he reassured them that he had no personal political ambitions. In his Circular to the States, he outlined his vision for America’s future, telling them that their situation was so favorable that if their Citizens should not be completely free and happy, the fault will be entirely their own. He outlined the importance of the moment they faced, told them of the foundations of government in justice and liberty, and urged upon them a dedication to union. He called upon them to use the lessons of the Revolution to strengthen the central government and ended by offering a prayer for God’s assistance and for his people to do Justice, to love mercy, and to demean ourselves with the Charity, humility and pacific temper of mind, which were the Characteristics of the Divine Author of our blessed Religion, and without an humble imitation of whose example in these things, we can never hope to be a happy nation.¹⁹

His farewell address to his armies of November 2, 1783, was also an important opportunity he used to teach and inspire. Here he sought to turn his men’s minds from war to peace and from military exploits to civilian opportunities. He was taming his army before sending it back into the nation’s life stream. He was attempting to turn his army of men from focusing on a war with Britain to conducting a kind of cultural war for the hearts and minds of their fellow citizens. Urging them to have a strong attachment to the union of states, he hoped that they should carry with them into civil society the most conciliating dispositions; and that they should prove themselves not less virtuous and useful as Citizens, than they have been persevering and victorious as Soldiers. In this address, he was helping to lay the popular foundations of free government—particularly the expectations of a type of statesmanship and citizenship inspired to virtue and restrained by constitutionalism and the rule of law.²⁰

And then the great moment came. On December 23, 1783—a day that, I submit, should be remembered still by a grateful nation—Washington does what so few have done in human history. The conquering general, the man King George III himself would reputedly call the greatest man alive, laid down his sword and went home. And we should keep in mind that he laid down his sword and hands over his military commission to an incompetent band of politicos who frustrated him throughout the war. Their competence was not the question; the important point was to have resigned power into the hands of duly chosen civilian leaders. His actions shook the world and reverberated in people’s hearts and world capitols everywhere.

But these moments all occur in a noncrisis atmosphere and I said we would see Washington’s statesmanship in its fullest bloom during a moment of crisis. Before he is able to resign, which, again, is momentous, Washington does something even more extraordinary: he saves the republic and provides the foundation for constitutional statesmanship, the rule of law, and civilian control of the military in the months between Yorktown and his resignation.

Washington’s army was camped at Newburgh, New York, in 1782 and 1783. The war had been won but the peace treaty ending the war had not yet been negotiated. British forces remained on the continent and Washington had every reason to be suspicious of the British and their intentions. The King will push the war as long as that nation will find men or money admits not of a doubt in my mind, he declared.²¹ He had to hold the army together and in good fighting condition until the treaty was in place and the redcoats were gone. The Continental Congress, however, continued to prove impotent. There was no money. The soldiers had not been paid. Washington would write this to Major General John Armstrong: The army, as usual, are without pay and a great part of the soldiery without shirts. And tho[ugh] the patience of them is equally threadbare, the states seem perfectly indifferent to their cries.²²

The soldiers were also desperately hungry and the horses were starving. Rumors of desertions and mutiny were in the air. It is easy to put yourself in the shoes of those officers. If Congress is not paying us now, when we have guns and men, how can we expect them to pay us after we disband and go back to our homes and farms? Why not march and force our demands upon the civilian authorities? The war was won, but the road toward true peace and free government was equally treacherous. All could be undone. The moment called for an extraordinary act of statesmanship.

A small delegation of officers went to Philadelphia to petition Congress directly and reported to them, We have borne all that men can bear—our property is expended—our private resources are at an end.²³ They met with both James Madison and Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton is far from innocent in the events that would unfold. He even wrote to Washington on February 13, 1783, to suggest that a moderate revolt of the officers, if kept within bounds, might actually prove helpful in persuading the weak minds in Congress.²⁴ He was not alone in such scheming. To understand Washington’s importance at this moment is to imagine the alternative. What precedents might have been set if Hamilton would have had his way? What would the nation look like if the military, at this crucial founding hour, would have marched on Philadelphia and insisted Congress follow their demands? Mercifully, that precedent was not set and America has been spared the military coups that continue to plague so much of the rest of the world. It was our great fortune that George Washington was more prudent and more republican than his former aide Alexander Hamilton and some of his top officers.

Washington knew well of the depths of the discontent but would have none of any scheme to use it to force the hand of the civilian government. He replied despairingly to Hamilton of what he called the forebodings of evil within the camp, which he felt may be productive of events which are more to be deprecated than prevented, but added, I am not without hope. He then warned Hamilton that soldiers were not mere puppets and that the army was a dangerous instrument to play with.²⁵

The crisis came to a head on March 11, when the conspirators circulated an anonymous pamphlet calling a meeting of the officers to voice grievances and coordinate action. Then a second anonymous note was circulated warning them to suspect the man who would advise to more moderation and longer forbearance. This was but a thinly veiled reference to General Washington himself and he was furious.

Washington countered the invitation by declaring he alone had the power to call such a meeting of the officers. Many would be tempted to work behind the scenes or to hope that the situation might just go away. Washington knew, however, that the situation demanded his own personal engagement. He used his power to call for just such a meeting as was advocated by the anonymous officers. Ominously, the meeting was to take place on March 15, the Ides of March: the day a group of conspirators famously chose to assassinate their supreme leader, Julius Caesar.

While he prepared to work the crisis on his own end, he also intervened with Congress to urge action. He wrote Hamilton again asking him to work in Congress as quickly as possible to redress the officer’s complaints and forewarned that failure of the government to take proper action would plunge the country into a gulf of civil horror from which there might be no receding.²⁶

The drama unfolded as if produced for the stage. On Washington’s orders, five hundred officers crowded the auditorium of the recently constructed building nicknamed The Temple of Virtue. In what would become rich irony, one of the lead conspirators, Horatio Gates, was set to chair the meeting. It remained unclear whether or not Washington himself would attend. Some hoped their general had tired of the inaction of the politicians and was prepared to take the government. A new monarchy might be on the verge of birth and they were there to be part of it. Others seemed ready to move on Congress with or without their commander. Washington’s top and most loyal aides entered and fanned into the audience.

At precisely noon, the doors opened. Washington entered. Everyone stood. He walked slowly, silently, and deliberately to the podium. His very presence, his dignity, and his strength served to strike the souls of his men. This was no mere fellow mortal, their Washington; His Excellency; The Commander in Chief; The Father of His Country.

He began by apologizing for appearing in person at the meeting; it was unusual for him but the gravity of the situation demanded it, he told them. By preserving his personal appearances for grave times, in other words, he preserved the symbolic power of his presence. In the modern parlance, he had strictly avoided overexposure. He began to read from his prepared remarks: Gentlemen: By an anonymous summons, an attempt has been made to convene you together; how inconsistent with the rules of propriety! how unmilitary! and how subversive of all order and discipline, let the good sense of the Army decide.

He spoke to them as a man with authority superior to theirs, but also as a man whose conduct earned him additional reason to be heard. He recounted how he had been with them through difficult times and suffered at their side. He reminded them how he had not left their side except when called to public business. He linked his own reputation with theirs and urged them not to tarnish what they had achieved by actions unworthy of their characters. He told them of the support Congress had for the army and the great respect the members of Congress had for their sacrifices. He pledged his own service to their cause, and bound that service with only two limitations: the duty he owed his country and the respect they all owed to the legitimate societal powers in a free nation. He called upon their patriotism, the value of their honor, their respect for the rights of humanity, and their concern for the character of their developing nation and ended his speech by telling them that if they resisted the temptation to act; if they resisted the calls to