Elitism, Nihilism, and Vorotyntsev-ism in Politics

This year, more so than most, the elections for high office in the United States highlight Benjamin Franklin’s post-constitutional-convention remark that you, the citizens of the erstwhile colonies, now have “a Republic, if you can keep it.”  Among the types of radicalism that would fundamentally alter the United States Constitution is one that found historical expression in the intelligentsia of late 19th and early 20th century Russia, where intelligentsia is a term of social and political art discussed below.  Right now, three weeks before Election Day 2020, voters may wish to incorporate the following analysis into their electoral deliberations.

      The Northwestern professor, Gary Saul Morson, has vividly portrayed pre-revolutionary Russia while reviewing the background of the word intelligentsia, which was coined about the year 1860 in order to refer to an elite class based on three criteria.  First, each member of the intelligentsia, referred to as an intelligent, agreed to identify himself with this progressive class in preference to any traditionally defined social, professional, ethnic, or religious class.  Second, each intelligent devoted himself or herself to a rigorous personal regimen of “puritanical dissoluteness” or “nihilistic moralism,” ignoring its implied irony and inventing a meaning of life independent of tradition.  Third, each intelligent accepted a set of destructive beliefs - - be they populist, Marxist, or anarchist - - that were taken to be scientifically underwritten, absolutely certain, and completely obligatory; thereby “checking the boxes” for some fashionable modern ideas while remaining oblivious to their many implied contradictions of history or logic: An intelligent accepted atheism on faith, became spiritually devoted to materialism, and chose to embrace determinism.  An intelligent committed himself or herself to “science,” construed as a metaphysical system in which the world worked by purposeless forces that nevertheless aimed at utopia; and detected a profound syllogism in the statement “Man is descended from apes; therefore, love one another.”

      With regard to nihilism, one must be aware of possible equivocation: Philosophical nihilism is an extreme skepticism maintaining that nothing in the world has a real existence and that “All is unreality or illusion.”  On the other hand, historical nihilism can refer to the extreme Russian political viewpoint, dating from the late 19th century, that disapproved of the entire established social order and sought to overthrow it.  Destruction of existing society was regarded as the first step towards the utopia that would quickly arise were it not for the baleful effect of current social arrangements.

      Morson reports that between 1900 and 1917 in late-Tsarist, pre-revolutionary Russia there were tens of thousands of acts of terrorism, arson, robbery, and murder.  How did educated liberal Russian society, in thrall as it was to the intelligentsia, respond to this scourge?  A Constitutional Democratic Party (Kadet Party) was set up in the Duma (legislature formed in 1905), but official Kadet publications never condemned political assassination or terrorism.  In the words of one liberal, “Condemn terror?  That would be the moral death of the party!”  Solzhenitsyn’s novel November 1916 portrays a gathering of Kadet liberals and the visiting Colonel Georgi Vorotyntsev.  When Vorotyntsev ventured the slightest deviation from the Kadet party line, the room fell eerily silent.  As if hypnotized, Vorotyntsev said no more, “not because he felt he was wrong, but out of fear of saying something reactionary.”  As a professor later explained to him, “In educated Russian society … by no means every view may be expressed … [and] the more ‘liberated’ the company, the more heavily this tacit prohibition weighs on it.”  Such ingrained self-censorship, or Vorotyntsev effect, severely limited public speech on important issues.

      Morson reveals the moral cowardice of pre-Revolutionary Russian liberals, who signed petitions they did not agree with; supported anarchists’ demands to abolish the police despite foreseeable, looming disaster; agreed that socialism would cure all societal ills with alacrity; and obeyed the maxim “Better to side with people a mile to one’s left than be associated with anyone one inch to one’s right.”

      Morson notes that the terror of the French Revolution was eventually stopped by the fall of Robespierre and the rise of Napoleon.  But in Russia, Stalin proclaimed an intensification of class struggle even after the Russian Revolution had ended, leading to innumerable executions and exiles to the Gulag, not to mention purges, show trials, and induced famine.  Giving in to illiberal forces ensures their longevity.

      Recently, more than a century after liberal opinion in late-Tsarist Russia fell over itself to support various socialist, Marxist, and anarchist initiatives, the Harvard professor Harvey C. Mansfield has well described the latest emanation of the Vorotyntsev effect in the United States: “We live in a society where racism is not, and cannot be, openly professed … [yet] ‘systemic racism’ supposedly persists … [in a] paradox of a racist society without racists.”  If a modern Vorotyntsev would venture, during polite conversation, the slightest deviation from the progressive view of “systemic racism,” then the ensuing, eerie silence would quickly bid him to say no more, lest he say something reactionary.  Adapting the Russian professor’s advice, “In educated American society … by no means every view may be expressed … [and] the more ‘progressive’ the company, the more heavily this tacit prohibition weighs on it.”

      Mansfield observes that systemic racism is taken to be unconscious, but that “it is strange to describe an unconscious effect as racism, for an ism is an opinion, a doctrine, not a mere condition.”  Systemic racism is said to be the bad result of behavior heretofore regarded as good, but now revealed to be illicit privilege rather than just reward.  On the other hand, why should anyone feel guilty about an accusation of “privilege” if a system beyond anyone’s intentions creates that privilege?  It seems that charges of “systemic racism” are meant as a way to avoid arguments over the nature and application of justice.  “More affirmative action and more subsidies - - what can they do that will now help instead of hurt?  Call them ‘reparations’ - - will that do any good?”  Mansfield concludes that “‘Systematic racism’ is a bogus description that issues in an accusation made in doubtful faith [and] that contradicts itself.”  Nevertheless, Mansfield finds that theories of “systematic racism” are so widely held as to require polite disputation.

      Combining the insights presented by Morson and Mansfield, one concludes that it is high time to uphold the original intentions of Colonel Georgi Vorotyntsev!

(Postscript #1: Exactly one week after the original Mansfield article, the WSJ published seven replies (“Replying to Mansfield on Systemic Racism”) expressing a spectrum of opinions that generally, but not always, agreed with Mansfield’s analysis.)

(Postscript #2: The next blog posting in this series is currently expected to appear on January 1 or February 1, 2021.)

Absolutism and Agitprop versus True Grit

Securely ensconced in his Alpine redoubt far removed from the recent rioting in the United States, the international college dean, Andrew A. Michta, has recently highlighted the political thought of the Polish poet, Czeslaw Milosz.  (See the August 1-2, 2020 weekend print edition of the Wall Street Journal.)  Milosz, an anti-totalitarian and a future Nobel Prize winner, managed an escape from Poland during the Stalinist era; criticized Western intellectuals who saw communism as overcoming the “bourgeois forces” that had caused World War II; warned the West of the fate of the human mind and soul under totalitarianism; and published his book, The Captive Mind, in 1953.  In the Soviet type of absolutism, the main intellectual tool for reshaping individuals into “affirmative cogs” serving the state is the transformation of ordinary human language into ideologically sanctioned language.  Clear external referents are replaced by cloudy subjective preferences; formerly clear expressions may be forbidden at a moment’s notice; and no linguistic legerdemain is out of bounds while promoting the purposes of the political hegemon.

      It would be illustrative to specify a concrete example of such linguistic legerdemain in the United States today.  As background, recall that the acronym NAACP refers to a prestigious civil rights organization.  Now consider recent news reports regarding a radio announcer who, while congratulating an individual on nomination to candidacy for high federal office, referred to that individual as a “CP,” in the sense of the aforementioned acronym.  That radio announcer was promptly fired from his job.  So “CP” is fine for acronyms but not for individuals?  Who knew?  This linguistic convention, dating from some unknown time and promulgated by some unknown elitist authority, certainly chills free speech, detracts from ordinary civility, and increases the number of “Captive Minds.”

      Returning to Michta’s argument: If radicals can enforce the idea that race is the exclusive lens for viewing all U.S. history, then they may use that lens to identify and reward societal groups that are deemed meritorious.  This process may fairly be referred to as resegregation, because it is diametrically opposed to traditional civil rights.  Resegregation would demand massive re-education of the American public; inundating Marxist agitprop (a type of propaganda - see below); and, one surmises, the round-up of linguistic miscreants for Maoist-style self-criticism and confession.  One might have thought that current American elites would stand up for free speech; but, alas, these elites believe not that they have an obligation to serve the republic, but only that they have a right to rule it and to “cancel” all historical references that do not conform to today’s Zeitgeist.

      Michta contends that resegregation is fundamentally un-American; that focusing on individuals’ melanin content would lead to a caste system; that academic speech codes and safe spaces destroy democratic debate; that absolutism “cancels” political compromise; and that the current absolutism may be a harbinger of violence not seen since the Civil War.  The current ideological experiment in totalitarianism would have been seen by Milosz as the result of “an American mind bloated by a steady diet of identity politics and group grievance served up by ideologues in schools nationwide.”  On Friday, August 7, 2020 the WSJ published five letters to the editor regarding Michta’s article.  Four of the letters supported Michta’s viewpoint.

      Agitprop refers to the use of the arts, culture, and historical memory to promulgate the doctrines of ruling elites; if those elites are extreme-socialist or communist, then it may fairly be said that agitprop promotes Marxist doctrine.  (Soviet Russia had a Department of Agitation and Propaganda.)  Robert L. Woodson, Sr. has recently written about a taxpayer-funded museum display that meets the definition of agitprop (WSJ, 8/7/20).  In July, 2020 a branch of the Smithsonian Institution “posted a graphic on its website outlining the ‘Aspects and Assumptions of Whiteness and White Culture in the United States’ … From the sounds of it, these ‘assumptions’ … would be debilitating and deleterious to minorities.”  As it turned out, however, those supposedly menacing “assumptions” were fairly anodyne aphorisms such as “hard work is the key to success.”  In fact, Woodson continues, “the qualities attributed to ‘whiteness’ are the same principles and values that have empowered blacks in America to succeed despite lingering discrimination and bigotry.  The museum removed the graphic after a public outcry, saying ‘it’s not working in the way that we intended.’”  This museum fiasco of July, 2020 was just one instance of “the demeaning and disabling message of racial grievance merchants, who claim that any and all failures of black Americans are attributable to so-called systemic racism.”  (Jackie Robinson overcame real systemic racism in order to join the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947, some 73 years ago.)  Woodson’s article gives two stories of black resilience and success, as follows:

      During World War II, blacks were initially prohibited from becoming officers in the U.S. Navy.  Eleanor Roosevelt insisted that 16 college-educated black cadets be chosen for a line-officer training class in 1944.  “Someone in the Navy” tried to sabotage their training, but the cadets in this all-black class covered the windows of their barracks, stayed up all night to study, and passed with higher marks than an all-white class.  An incredulous chain of command forced the black cadets to re-take the exam, but they all passed again.  The Navy offered commissions to 13 of these cadets (the “Golden 13”), who became naval officers because of their “true grit.”  (A person is said to have “true grit” if he or she sets goals and follows through to achieve them with enthusiasm and perseverance in the face of significant obstacles; the idea being that tiny, hard particulate matter can eventually wear down whatever opposes it.)

      A second example of true grit is seen in the case of the best-selling book and award-winning movie Hidden Figures.  Three black female employees of a NASA research facility, Katherine Johnson (mathematics and computation), Mary Jackson (engineering), and Dorothy Vaughan (mathematical supervisor), played critical roles in John Glenn’s 1962 mission to orbit the earth.  Each of these employees overcame obstacles too numerous to recount in this review, but which are vividly portrayed in the excellent movie.  Hidden Figures, Woodson observes, “is but one of thousands of black American stories demonstrating that the most powerful antidote to disrespect isn’t protest but performance and [that] the most potent answer to repression is resilience.”

Theological Review (2): Seeking the Wrong Certainty

The Meaning of Protestant Theology, a book written by Professor Phillip Cary and published by Baker Academic in 2019, is recommended for anyone looking for a perspicacious and concise account of Protestant Christian theology.  Last month we wrote about Cary’s analysis of spiritual ascent and descent.  Now, we will inquire into the question, whether Christian theology has been looking for the wrong kind of certainty in recent centuries (p. 9).  Faith should be based on the certainty that God will be true to his word, not on a purported certainty of one’s own theological tradition; if for no other reason than that some academic theological traditions have arisen with no evident connection to building the assurance of faith.  One thinks of “historical Jesus” research that attempts to create a biography out of a thin ancient historical record that would be more appropriate for a noncommittal study of Homer and Troy.  Cary writes that “belief in the wrong kind of certainty has not only left Protestant theology particularly unprepared for new developments in biblical scholarship in the nineteenth century; it resulted in a stunning lack of charity in Luther’s own writing” (p. 209).

      Speaking of the “wrong kind of certainty” suggests that an equivocation is lurking.  If two or more kinds of certainty simply and always bore distinct names, then life would be much easier.  Certainty is demanded in mathematics; it is not clear that Christian faith demands the same state of mind.  In mathematical proofs, if the premises are understood, then the conclusion is seen, via mental vision, to be necessary without reference to persons.  In Christian doctrine, if God’s promises and message are understood, then the conclusion (salvation) is seen, via mental vision, to be reliable, based on God’s character.

      What type of certainty attaches to faith, and should a different word be substituted for “certainty”?  Around 400 C.E. an official Biblical canon was recognized, and it included the book of Hebrews, whose 11th chapter (ESV) begins with “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  The original Greek words for “assurance” and “conviction” are (transliterated as) “hypostasis” and “elenchos,” respectively; the translation seems appropriate, recalling that hypostasis refers to the assurance of abstract things and to the essence of concrete things.  For both assurance and conviction, it would seem that one is dealing with a probability sufficiently high for action or belief (a moral certainty) but not necessarily as high as for mathematical proof (absolute certainty).  Text and notes in a German translation (Schlachter 2000) link hypostasis to confidence, realization, and holding fast (Zuversicht, Verwicklichung, and Beharren), but not to certainty (Gewissheit).  There is a famous hymn titled “Blessed Assurance, Jesus is Mine,” but nowhere has the writer of this blog encountered a hymn titled “Certain Inference, Jesus is Mine.”  Only long-standing habit and inertia lead one to say of faith that it must be certain rather than divinely assured.  If only a context-sensitive equivocation-alarm would sound whenever a Christian believer said “certain,” not stopping until the speaker substituted “divinely assured”; then much confusion could be avoided.

      Another wrong kind of certainty lurks in the interpretation of Christian texts: “Reformers like Luther and Calvin accepted a version of the traditional gradation of authorities, with Scripture alone as the source of certainty [assurance] and the church fathers as indispensable but not infallible guides to sound interpretation of Scripture” (p. 212).  “Protestant theologians were convinced that … the most up-to-date historical scholarship supported their interpretation of both Scripture and tradition” (p. 213).  However, nineteenth century historical-critical scholarship treated sacred Scripture like any other ancient document, produced unorthodox analyses, and reminded orthodox believers that all interpretations take place within some tradition.

      Wandering into a hostile interpretive environment for the sake of a wrong kind of probability also produces results hostile to traditional Christianity.  For example, Hume’s gambit posits that the probability that any miracle is true is less than the probability that some medieval monk corrupted the text and fabricated the miracle; that all of our beliefs are adopted by weighing probabilities; and hence, that all alleged miracles must be disbelieved de jure without the necessity of constructing a factual record.  Consistent with this approach, some commentators downplay Constantine’s apparent conversion to Christianity before the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, not wishing to delve into the existence of fascinating commemorative coins that Constantine later struck, showing the Christian Chi-Rho sign on the Roman labarum.  However, Hume’s gambit fails, because the thesis that all of our beliefs are adopted by weighing probabilities is false: If we believe that there are other minds and that the sun will rise again tomorrow, then we do so on other grounds.

      Cary provides insightful discussions of modernism and post-modernism in Chapter 9.  “To the post-modernist, modernity appears ironically as a tradition that cannot admit that it is a tradition, because it is ideologically opposed to all traditions” (p. 222).  Left-wing postmodernism maintains that all traditions are indeed irrational and inescapable.  Right-wing post-modernism maintains that some instances of rationality exist in some traditions, although none of those traditions is a pure expression of universal reason.  Cary concludes on page 224 that it is the critical Socratic spirit, rather than any foundation of certainty, that turns traditions of interpretation into vectors of rationality.

Theological Review (1): Spiritual Ascent or Descent

The Meaning of Protestant Theology, a book written by Professor Phillip Cary and published by Baker Academic in 2019, is a good read for those looking for a perspicacious and concise account of the historical interaction between Western philosophy and Christian theology, with an emphasis on the Protestant viewpoint.  This is a timely topic during an epoch of pestilence and cultural revolution: If singing is medically suspect, and if the ramparts of the Star-Spangled Banner are under assault; then what fate awaits A Mighty Fortress besieged?  During the economic and cultural upheavals of the post-Augustan Roman Empire, which created the Age of Anxiety chronicled by E. R. Dodds, the Christian message and mindset attracted new believers.  Would such attraction be expected today in a new generation of citizens anxiously scrolling down lists of government benefits for entries such as “tranquility, spiritual”?

      In the Introduction to his 2019 book, the author observes that “Christians today are much less anxious about their own individual salvation or damnation than people in the sixteenth century, when Protestantism first arose” (p. 1).  This observation might lead one to the question (as phrased by the reviewer) “Is there now any other reason, beyond salvation, for one to be a Protestant rather than to be an indifferentist, a materialist, a generalized spiritualist, an adherent of some traditional but non-Christian religion, a follower of some non-Protestant branch of Christianity, or a post-Christian futurist?”

      The question about reasons for Protestantism can be transformed into the question (p. 2), “What is your faith about?”  Among the theistic alternatives, one possible answer is experiencing “God working in my life,” in which case God gets to audition for a part in the believer’s story.  A second possible answer is focusing on what Christ has done for us, “thus directing our attention away from our own works to Christ himself,” in which case the believer gets to be part of Christ’s story.  Cary inclines towards this second alternative, which is expressed both in sacramental worship and in the preaching of the Word of God.  These expressions are the source of the meaning of Protestant theology, which is the theme of Cary’s 371-page book.  

      Cary’s work aims “to show why Protestantism is best understood as a form of piety based on faith in the Gospel as the word of God that gives us Christ” (p. 4).  The book’s first two chapters are centered on the comparison of ancient philosophy and Biblical writings as jointly setting up dueling concepts of ascending and descending spiritualities: “In place of human [philosophical] spirituality bringing us to God in a kind of ascent of heart and mind, the Gospel tells the story of a divine carnality, a descent of God to us” (p.6). 

      In Chapter 1 Cary mentions the concept of intellectual vision, which originated in Plato’s allegory of the cave (Republic, 514a-521a): Socrates tells Glaucon that what passes for reality inside a shadowy cave as observed by a subterranean prisoner turns out to be - - after that prisoner is forced up a rough and steep ascent to the earth’s surface - - only the shadows of objects that now become clearly discernable to the erstwhile prisoner.  Moreover, the unshackled observer can now also contemplate the heavens, gaze upon the sun itself, and see true celestial nature.  Socrates says that “this ascent and contemplation of the things above is the soul’s ascension to the intelligible region.”  Socrates’ insight is that in this intelligible region (region of the known), the last thing to be perceived is the idea of the good (the sun), which is the cause of all that is right and beautiful.  The intelligible world is the authentic source of truth and reason.  Achieving this insight is a prerequisite for acting wisely in private or public capacities and for serving as a ruler in an ideal republic.  It is easy to see that someone of Augustinian disposition could use this account of intellectual vision as a parallel to the Matthew 5:8 account of beatific vision: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

      Nevertheless, Cary argues that “Platonists got many things right when it comes to abstract questions about the being of God, but not so many when it comes to our relation to God, and especially not when it comes to how we know God … ‘intellectual vision’ concerns a power of the soul that I think we so not actually have …”  (pp. 18-19).  In other words, Platonism is often right about some transcendent properties of God (philosophical spirituality), but wrong about how we know God as immanent in the world (divine carnality), and wrong about the importance of intellectual vision, if it exists.  Knowing the essence of God is less important than knowing who God is.  Knowing God requires believing in Jesus Christ.

      In Chapter 2 Cary maintains that Platonism remains necessary for rationalizing the background assumptions of orthodox Christian doctrine; nevertheless, Platonism overemphasizes the notion of an immortal soul ascending to heaven while awaiting the resurrection of the corruptible body.  On pages 52 – 56 Cary provides many Scriptural references for the eschatological descent to earth of heavenly tents (upgraded bodies) or dwellings (renewed cities).  The reviewer elaborates on three of these references as follows: First, “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable … for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable [raised from the grave to the graveside, as it were] … for this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.  When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then … ‘Death is swallowed up in victory’” (1 Corinthians 15:50-54).  Second, the body is like an earthly tent with a heavenly replacement in reserve: “If the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens … while we are still in this tent, we groan … [to be] further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life” (2 Corinthians 5:1-4).  Third, the writer of Revelation “saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God … [and] heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man.  He will dwell with them, and they will be his people’” (Rev 21:10-11).

      When Cary writes that “what was not so essential to Christian orthodoxy … was the Platonist spirituality of the soul’s ascent to God” (p. 53), the current reviewer believes that an unnecessary dichotomy is created: The presupposition seems to be that if the Biblical writers or the church fathers were under a Greek cultural influence, then that influence must have amounted to “baggage” that could only have detracted from the Biblical message.  If so, then perhaps the Christian message about life after death should emphasize “Plan on having plenty of time to perfect one’s virtue of patience while awaiting the general resurrection” and avoid any account of a soul’s ascent into heaven as an unnecessary distraction.  In fact, however, Revelation 6:9-10 presents an intriguing image of some souls fretfully waiting under a heavenly altar for the day of resurrection, crying out “How long, O Lord … until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?”  The present writer adopts the view that, counterfactually speaking, God could have rerouted Abram to a Promised Land in a different geographic location if it would have turned out to the subsequent advantage of the Biblical writers and church fathers.  As it is, the reviewer placidly accepts the Greek cultural viewpoint, as well as the existence of some distraught, seemingly Platonic souls temporarily warehoused under a heavenly altar, as parts of one integrated Christian revelation.

Celebrating 244 Years of the “1776 Project”

The publication of the Declaration of Independence of the United States of America revealed a document that was on the historical cutting edge of the development of liberal democracy on July 4, 1776.  This American Declaration listed as royal usurpations many transgressions of the colonists’ rights as Englishmen.  An English Declaration of Rights had been promulgated in 1689 in order to secure parliamentary preeminence over the English Crown (from 1707, the Crown of Great Britain).  Thus, there was some correlation between the development of liberal democracy and of constitutional monarchy in the transatlantic world.

      The newly emerging government of the United States of America was liberal, in that it presupposed basic individual rights inviolable by any government diktat.  It was a democracy in that it took for granted the existence of a legislative body representative of the people, i.e., the citizens of the several states.  Some analysts substitute “republicanism” for “democracy,” basing their terminology on the ancient Roman res publica rather than on the ancient Athenian demos.  For many, however, “liberal republicanism” does not roll as trippingly from the tongue as does “liberal democracy.”  Whichever term is chosen, what is meant is the diametric opposite of monarchy or autocracy.

      The English Declaration had relied on the Lockean notion of natural and inalienable rights to “life, liberty, and property.”  In an apparent effort to demonstrate his own authorial independence, Jefferson rendered this notion in the American Declaration as Creator-endowed and unalienable rights to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”  The subsequent attainment of a high degree of such happiness in the U.S.A. has warranted a wide-spread national pride in the American Declaration and other founding documents. 

      Long before July 4, 1776 the entire project of liberty in the new American colonies had gotten off to a rocky start in a long chain of events: Portuguese slave traders in what is now Angola provided slaves to a Portuguese ship bound for Mexican mines in the summer of 1619.  English privateers captured the ship and its slaves, sailed to the vicinity of Jamestown, Virginia by the end of August 1619, and sold the slaves (the first of many) to English colonists for cultivating that new-fangled crop, tobacco.  (Ironically, Jamestown was named for the dual monarch, James VI of Scotland and James I of England, who had in 1604 condemned tobacco smoking in his “A Counterblast[e] to Tobacco.”)

      Twelve years after the American Declaration, the ninth state to ratify the new U.S. Constitution did so on June 21, 1788; promising a more felicitous route to future happiness and leading to Washington’s election as the first President later that year.  In order to secure ratification, however, compromises adversely affecting “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” had to be adopted.  For example, the existence of slavery was presupposed: Only 3/5 of the slave population counted as population for the purpose of apportioning federal representation and direct taxes.  Moreover, no federal law abolishing the slave trade with other nations could take effect until January 1, 1808.  Nevertheless, there was a determination among some of the Constitutional framers, dating from 1788, to find a way to stop the foreign slave trade in the United States.  Remarkably, during this very same time period, there were similar concerns in London regarding the possibility of abolishing the British slave trade as well, as ably summarized in William Hague’s book: William Wilberforce, The Life of the Great Anti-Slave Trade Campaigner, (Harcourt, 2007). 

      The British Parliamentarian, William Wilberforce (1759 - 1833), was an outstanding anti-slavery orator.  Becoming a Member of Parliament at the precocious age of 21 in 1780, he had long, but unsuccessfully, proposed a humanitarian argument against the slave trade.  In 1805 the abolitionist James Stephen wrote a book, The War in Disguise, that recommended a government policy that was at once anti-slave-trade and anti-Napoleon.  Wilberforce saw in Stephen’s thesis a utilitarian argument that might actually succeed in Parliament (Hague, pp. 332-334): The Royal Navy should be authorized to interdict neutral shipping between France, Spain, and their colonies.  This policy would have the ostensible goal of defeating Napoleon; but its greatest effects would be the resulting inability of France and Spain to use neutral ships for slave trading in their overseas colonies; near destruction of those colonies’ economies; and drastic reduction in the market for slaves in those ravaged colonies.  Slave trading would no longer be profitable - - for ships from Great Britain or from any other country - - thereby eliminating the profit rationale for the slave trade.  Under this policy, Parliament might as well draw the ultimate conclusion and abolish the British slave trade outright.  Thus, patriotically anti-Napoleon policy implied the acceptability of an act abolishing the slave trade.

      In the autumn of 1806 Napoleon defeated the Prussians at the Battle of Jena, making anti-Napoleon policy and its implied slave-trade abolition all the more necessary.  A new British Parliament opened on December 15, 1806, passed the Slave-Trade Abolition Act early in 1807, and gained the King’s assent to this Act on March 24, 1807.  The Act took effect on May 1, 1807 (Hague, pp. 348 - 356).

      In December 1806 President Thomas Jefferson of the United States had attacked the “violations of human rights [that] have so long continued on the unoffending inhabitants of Africa.”  A bill to outlaw the foreign slave trade passed both Houses of Congress early in 1807, was signed into law by the President on March 2, 1807, and took effect on January 1, 1808 (Hague, p. 350).  Thus, the American Law was passed and signed twenty-two days before the analogous British Act; but the American Law took effect eight months after the British Act, because of a provision in the American Constitution.

      One notes that it does not matter now if both or either or neither of the pair, Jefferson and Wilberforce, were themselves slave owners - - what they accomplished legislatively in abolishing the foreign slave trade on both sides of the Atlantic was truly monumental.  Subsequently, in 1833 an Act of Parliament outlawed slavery throughout the entire British Empire.  In the U.S. a Civil War with an estimated 620,000 military deaths was required before slavery could be abolished via the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution in 1865.

      In stark contrast to the historical narrative just adumbrated, the so-called “1619 Project,” published on the New York Times’ website, does not indicate that much was accomplished against slavery in the Anglophone world of the nineteenth century.  The 1619 Project focuses on the slave importation of 1619 and neglects the fact, as formulated by the historian Gordon Wood and quoted by the Wall Street Journal columnist Jason L. Riley, that slavery “had existed for thousands of years without criticism, but it’s the American Revolution that makes it a problem for the world.  And the first real anti-slave movement takes place in North America.  So this is what’s missed by these essays in the 1619 Project.”  In response to the 1619 Project, Riley continues, “Robert Woodson, a black conservative and longtime community activist in Washington … held a press conference to announce his own ‘1776 Project,’ which is intended to counter what he called the ‘anti-American propaganda’ of the Times’s endeavor.”  (See also the “1776 Project” page on the Heritage Foundation website.)

      In summary, best wishes to all those celebrating the accomplishments of the authors of the American Declaration of Independence and other founding documents on this, the 244th anniversary of that Declaration.