Immaculate Conceptions

[Greybird]

In 2000, David Friedman commented in an Objectivist newsgroup that he was struck by

[...] the nationalist tone of some of the posts. I thought it might be worth starting a discussion of how much justification there is for that.

[...] I think it is clear that the U.S. is a freer society than Iran, or Cuba, or many others. What is not clear to me is that there is any large difference, from the standpoint of rights violation, between the U.S. and other countries with similar levels of income, technology, etc.: Canada, Australia, Japan, the countries of Western Europe, the more developed countries of Latin America.

So my question is whether posters here do think there is a clear and substantial difference, and if so on what basis.

Unfortunately, the way such differences have usually been brought up in Objectivist venues — both before and after Nine Eleven — hasn't involved, to me, an effort at strict "justification," in the sense of adducing evidence. It is more of a response that hearkens back to some of Ayn Rand's original emotions and expressions of same, and thus admits only of some explanation, as I see it.

The difference that orthodox/ARIan/Peikovian commentators tend to stress has little to do with differences in degree about actions that violate individual rights. That is a matter, as David Kelley has long stressed, of applying measurements, once moral judgments have been made. (Here, judgments of "nations," an illegitimate collectivizing — but it's what they are using, following Rand's pattern.)

What she implicitly upheld was the flip side of Leonard Peikoff's most notorious fallacy — and I regret to note that in this instance, Rand was quite thorough about applying it herself.

It would qualify as, in this case, an "inherently honest idea," but has the same lack of rational base as Peikoff's "dishonest" variety. I have given it my own name in other polemics over the years: "The Immaculate Conception of the United States Government."

The most direct evidence for it comes from the implications behind three distinct points in Rand's writing, how they indicate her unfamiliarity with American history, and how this in turn led to her endowing the "United States" with a special moral status.

(1) From her speech at West Point, published in Philosophy: Who Needs It: "The United States of America is [...] in its original founding principles, the only moral country in the history of the world." (Emphasis hers.)

(2) From her title essay in For the New Intellectual: "When attacked by a carnivorous pack, animals perish — man writes the Constitution of the United States."

(3) In Atlas Shrugged, she relies on a resonance of intellectual integrity being invoked by her three prime male "strikers" having all attended "the last great institution of learning," named "Patrick Henry University."

Anyone can go back and review these examples, to be assured that I am dealing with them in the proper context. But I am treating them as being indicative of her arguments, not as being actual arguments. To wit, and compressing a much longer chain of reasoning:

Rand saw a special moral virtue in the results of the American process of Constitution-making. It was the first time that a government had been constructed on deliberate principles of consent and of the recognition of individual rights, however imperfect.

(This point borrows from the work of both Isabel Paterson and Rose Wilder Lane in many strong parallels, far too many of them to outline here, and we do know that these were two of Rand's intellectual influences.)

For Rand, however, I contend that this point became a static historical fact. She never grasped that the Constitutional framing process was one of intense, interactive, impassioned, sometimes brutal debate, both then and since.

I have gathered from many descriptions of her life and influences that this degree of reading of history never had a strong appeal for her — beyond her lengthy discussions with her friend Paterson, whom she nearly ignored when their relations were broken off in later years. (And, also, beyond what she had to learn about Constitutional matters in any test for citizenship, or for her minimal level of political activism.)

The first statement above — "the only moral country" — reflects a profound ignorance of how deeply rooted these American institutions had been, and continued to be, in the English constitutional struggles and their results.

I never gathered, in her few historical assays, that she grasped how thorough the transformation of political values had been over several centuries in England, and how John Locke's work was not the beginning, but the culmination, of this process. Her few such lacunae were focused far more on France and on the Enlightenment period. Rand gave no indication of seeing English roots for the growth of constitutionalism and limited government, beyond a minimal bow toward Locke.

When one sees no roots, one is not apt to see where the plant came from. Her not recognizing (or admitting in print) the earlier resonances of most of her major political points, and her not seeing that many of them had been anticipated, made her see the Constitution era as blossoming in the nature of a philosophical orchid.

The principles dazzled, and rightly so, but she never admitted to their having roots. To do so would bring too much of her own originality into question. Thus the hyperbole of "the only moral country" — and such a unique status gave a special dispensation, if only in past glories, that no other portion of humanity would have.

The second statement above — on the "carnivorous pack" — is a literary device, but indicative of a foreshortened context of historical knowledge.

Rand admired the Constitution, but never admitted to any of its weaknesses or rights violations having come from deliberate design. Her largest gloss on it was "there were flaws and contradictions" in that document. (Ones that a Judge Narragansett, sitting in Galt's Gulch, could easily edit out.)

What she made clear, however, was that she saw the original process as having a special moral stature — and that the shaping of the Constitution was, to her, an instance of deliberate and acceptable rationalism.

Yet the 1787 Constitution was not created in a historical vacuum. It came, most directly, from a lack of power under the Articles of Confederation to tax the population enough for creating the apparatus that most businessmen wanted — and a lack of power to enforce a continent-wide framework for land speculation. This was not hidden, and together these formed the main impetus for calling the original Annapolis conference to re-frame the Articles: They were inefficient in the aim of setting up a continental (albeit minimal) government.

Many of the framers were, in practice, much more "carnivorous" in trying to chew on the openness of the frontier — and far closer to home — than the English had been. That is, in doing what is now called rent-seeking, by controlling the shape of a central government's powers.

Control of interstate commerce, for example, was far from a peripheral point. It came from intending to set up a central government that countered the power of the individual states to control trade. Competing players, in other words, and not any sort of ruling out of the initiation of force, even by implication.

The various framers had many motives for this, and not all were rapacious, but some were. Far from being an artifact of a lack of thorough thinking, as Rand implied, the interstate-commerce power reflected a situation of political power and then-current power players.

Rand never acknowledged this, and had become part of a wider historical amnesia in our culture. This is reflected in the third artifact above, concerning Patrick Henry.

She would not have evoked him as a metaphorical touchstone in her magnum opus unless she were thinking of his "Give me liberty" oratory, and resultant revolutionary example — and only that. If she had any inkling of his later historical role, she would never have used his name.

Henry was one of the most vehement and successful "antifederalists" in the struggle over ratification of the Constitution. He refused to attend the 1787 framing convention in Philadelphia. He led the opposition to its ratification in the Virginia legislature. He called in political favors from every corner to do so, and made cogent arguments on how it sapped the independence and the decentralized powers of the various states.

Henry, using arguments from dozens of other polemic writers, might have made the 1787 Constitution a dead letter, by preventing the most populous state from ratifying it. That is, if not for James Madison's and George Mason's successful efforts to attach to Virginia's ratification a firm call for further prohibitions on actions of the central government.

Other states' officials had already done so, insisting that an explicit "bill of rights" was essential to avoid centralized tyranny, and wanting to keep the states' own prerogatives and constitutions. Some states had made this explicit in their ratification, and Rhode Island and North Carolina delayed their approval by several years because of this concern.

In every respect, Henry was among the foremost champions of the principles of hemming in government power that Rand would later praise. Yet he acted upon this by opposing, down to the bitterest dregs of his oratory, every aspect of the particular document that was at issue. He was hardly alone among the antifederalists, but he was the most influential at a crucial stage.

If Rand had possessed any historical knowledge that was deep enough to acknowledge the antifederalist/federalist context of the conflicts over the Constitution, she would not have given such prominence to Henry's name.

Nor would she have implied a perfect, almost messianic uniqueness in the document itself. The previous Articles had been far more strict in ruling out abuses of power by the central government.

And where does this come down to the present case? I contend that this special treatment of the founding of the United States gives a level, in Rand's view, of special virtue to this government — and only this government — that mere historical fact, or comparative actions about rights, cannot shake.

It is the closest approach in her works, verging on an actual instance, to any sense of endowing something with "original virtue" — to contrast with the "sin" she often decried. To have questioned this supposedly inherent virtue would be calling too many gaps in her knowledge — and glosses about American history — to the forefront.

This openly emotional subtext, and exemption from the deepest reasoning, has had many different and destructive consequences.

It clearly was behind part of Peter Schwartz's famous animosity toward academic libertarians, including Murray Rothbard, who tried to point out this context. (An admirable corrective in providing same is Rothbard's lively multiple-volume narrative history of the colonial and revolutionary eras, Conceived in Liberty.)

It made Rand, and Peikoff and others after her, not question the propriety of the civic institutions that she took part in. At least, not until the Goldwater campaign debacle of 1964, after which she decided that political non-participation was far more of an Objectivist virtue, after all.

Even then, her leitmotif was far more one of corrupted innocence, not conceptual flaws, in her talking about — and the capital letters are not insignificant — the wholly undifferentiated group of "Founding Fathers."

And it has made any Objectivist analysis of current events skewed toward an initial presumption of the American government being given — at least — the benefit of the doubt in any conflict, often in an explicit invoking of its long-betrayed and never-pure founding status.

The "nationalist tone" discerned in Objectivist venues by Friedman comes from a special, and nearly unadmitted, moral exemption that is given to American constitutionalism on the part of Rand ... whether or not this is reflected in current actions of the American State. It was uniquely evoked for the United States, and still is, among those both in and out of the Orthodoxy.

That this exemption from political reasoning has deficiencies, in setting up a detailed framework for a rational political philosophy, should be obvious. Yet in those who imitate Rand's concretes more than they admit, when analyzing current events, this point of her insistence on inherent virtue is a far larger blind spot.

Large enough, when exaggerated by that rationalism that Peikoff and the ARI have been so adept at encouraging in practice, to hide the effects even of using a nuclear weapon against innocent parties.

I don't claim to have made a complete case for this, but it bears much more examination. It also does turn on a flaw in Rand's application of her own principles, which in itself many do not want to admit. She resisted the intrinsicist impulse with ferocious tenacity — but that doesn't mean that she was free from admitting to a prominent instance of it for herself.

Original version posted to humanities.philosophy.objectivism (Usenet newsgroup) on 11 May 2000

[Michael Stuart Kelly]

I didn't realize this was awaiting moderation until Steve sent me a note. All new threads in the Articles section are automatically moderated. I will change this later when I overhaul the portal, but for now, this kind of glitch happens.

I haven't had time to read it yet.

Michael

[jeffrey smith]

There is a cogent case to be made that the Philadelphia Convention was a sort of reactionary coup, that the system of the Articles of Confederation did not need to be amended in any serious way, and that all the flaws of centralized government can be traced back to the Constitution: in short, that the Constitution was a step away from liberty. This was essentially the argument that Patrick Henry and the other antifederalists were making.

Especially in Rand's day, this view would have been termed "revisionist" and looked on with disfavor, and it would not be surprising if Rand knew little of it, or thought highly of it if she did know of it. However, by choosing Patrick Henry Rand was, malgre lui, picking the "Founding Father" who best represented the heritage of anti-collectivism and individual liberty.

However, the case that the United States, at least at its inception, occupied a morally higher place than any other country should not be dismissed lightly. The Founders, even if you include the Constitution of 1787, were the first country to actualize individual liberty and the consent of the governed in a political system. We had slavery, of course, but England was not a completely free country, either: well into the 19th century, a person could be imprisoned for debt, a Catholic was barred from public office, the aristocracy and squirearchy enjoyed far greater powers than any American elite did, etc.

Jeffrey S.

[BaalChatzaf]

There is a cogent case to be made that the Philadelphia Convention was a sort of reactionary coup, that the system of the Articles of Confederation did not need to be amended in any serious way, and that all the flaws of centralized government can be traced back to the Constitution: in short, that the Constitution was a step away from liberty. This was essentially the argument that Patrick Henry and the other antifederalists were making.

How were the major rights protected by the Bill of Rights guaranteed and protected in the original Articles of Confederation?

Ba'al Chatzaf

[jeffrey smith]

How were the major rights protected by the Bill of Rights guaranteed and protected in the original Articles of Confederation?

Ba'al Chatzaf

The federal government of the AoC was much weaker, so there was no need felt for a Bill of Rights to constrain it: the states could constrain any invasions of rights attempted by the central government.

In this context, be aware that originally the Bill of Rights was seen as applying only on the federal level. The idea that some parts of the BoR also apply to the states (usually called the doctrine of incorporation) came much later--IIRC, in the wake of the post Civil War amendments. And even today, not all of the BoR is seen as applying to the states. Until the Heller ruling, for instance, the question was not even considered in regards to the Second Amendment. Since then, when the question has come up, the courts seem to answer the question with a yes--that is, it does apply to the states--but I'm fairly certain that SCOTUS has yet to actually rule on that question.

In other words, the Bill of Rights was a reaction against what was seen as overly powerful central government produced by the Constitution of 1787, and had nothing to do with the states. Before 1787 the federal government was seen as being too weak to threaten rights, so no BoR was seen as necessary. Some of the states incorporated BoR type provisions in their state constitutions even for 1787.

[Judith]

by choosing Patrick Henry Rand was, malgre lui, picking the "Founding Father" who best represented the heritage of anti-collectivism and individual liberty.

Perhaps we read too much into her choice. After all, she had to make it a FICTIONAL university, and there are already universities named after Washington and Jefferson, the obvious choices.

[syrakusos]

It would qualify as, in this case, an "inherently honest idea," but has the same lack of rational base as Peikoff's "dishonest" variety. I have given it my own name in other polemics over the years: "The Immaculate Conception of the United States Government."

Thank you for the insightful essay. If I may, I point out the Immaculate Conception refers to MARY, not to the Virgin Birth of Jesus. Mary wss conceived and born without Original Sin so that she coulb be the Vessel for our Savior. So, for your analogy to hold, you would have to show how the IC of the USA was required for the advent of something else. That's how it works in Catholic theology.

That aside... I note that all four of my grandparents were immigrants. I had one uncle born on the other side. We were very politcal, a result of the social context of Cleveland in the Depression and that being when they all generally earned their citizenships. In my mother's home, when the old folks retold the much-told story of the attempt on Franklin Roosevelt in 1940 that took the life of Chicago's Mayor Anton Cermak, someone would say "They shot the wrong Democrat," and everyone would laugh. Be that as it may, the entire family was fiercely loyal to the USA and generally disinterested in Europe and Europe's problems. Again, mother's family even gave up Catholicism, which they saw as a political entity of oppression, not allowed in the USA with our separation of Church and State. When I was in Young Americans for Freedom, I was on my way to some anti-government protest or other and my grandparents were shocked. To them, our right to petition for redress of grienvances or to peacefully assemble did not include protesting against the government. You change things by writing letters, voting, and maybe running for office. Blocking traffic is for hooligans.

So, I understand Ayn Rand's passion for America.

You have to deal with essentials. You have to take the facts of history as they are.

Among the threads of knowledge that I work with are my readings in financial history, especially from numismatics. I know that the post-colonial and pre-federal period was not as dire and chaotic as the federalists (then and now) paint it. I also know of the "anti-federalist papers." Different collections have been published that shed light on the debate. Moreover, the history of American federalism has deep roots. The reason that the Constitution is so nicely balanced a work of political mechanics is that Americans had been writing constitutions and plans of union for over 30 years, perhaps truly for two full generations. So, they finally got it right, Bill of Rights and all.

At least, that's one way to look at it.

You have to wonder what the counterfactuals suggest ... We have Smith's Probability Broach, of course. On the other hand, in The Difference Engine, the USA is attenuated. In "The Woodrow Wilson Dime," the missing pieces are even larger. Imagine Texas an independent republic, the CSA allied with Germany, the Great Plaines and Rockies controlled by Native Americans with California just hanging out there tenuously. ... Sometimes, I wonder -- and I know this is also an idea from other writers -- if I were to go back 100 years to 1909, would I meet other time travelers from other timelines trying to prevent disasters of their own... if Germany won World War I... if the South had held out ... if Lincoln had not been shot... or if Franklin Roosevelt had... or if Aaron Burr had been successful in Texas... or if Aaron Burr had defeated Jefferson for the Presidency...

Basically, all we know is what actually happened. We can change the future. We cannot change the past.

So, perhaps we can suggest that in order to make the future she wanted, Ayn Rand drew on the past she wanted.

She was not alone in that. I heard Margaret Thatcher give a similar address about Americans being special for our being a self-selected nation, the first in history that was not the result of arbitrary tribal warfare and inheritance.

Edited November 10, 2009 by Michael E. Marotta

[Guyau]

Steve,

Thank you for sharing this article. It is thoughtful and informative. I appreciate, also the contributions in the follow-up posts of this thread.

One defect that Rand and her affiliates made note of in the original US Constitution was its not revoking the institution of slavery. It did not extend its protections of the rights of individuals to slaves. Then too, Rand did not agree with the interpretation of the Constitution that has allowed the institution of the military draft. Surely there could have been some better protection of individuals put into the document against that inversion of the relation of individual to government.

Can you tell us more about the degree to which the Bill of Rights was composed to protect the rights of the States and the degree to which it was for protecting the individual against federal and state government? From one book I read about 35 years ago—I think it was by Forrest McDonald— I recall that the clause on religion in the First Amendment was added because of the letter (to whom?) of a Jewish man urging it. In whatever State he lived, there was some kind of oath requirement to acknowledge Jesus as God. So at least part of the motive of that clause would seem to have been for the protection of individual rights.

On the clause of the First Amendment concerning freedom of the press, I whole-heartedly recommend Leonard Levy’s Emergence of a Free Press (as you may recall from a review I wrote for Nomos). The founders never meant the wide degree of freedom we see before us in the simple language. The freedom of the press that we have today, through reference to the plain language of the First Amendment, was long in coming: it did not fully arrive until the twentieth century.

Maybe some day the military draft will be legally recognized as the direct slavery that it is. I worked against the draft registration law, but they eventually slipped it through.