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Americans like optimistic politicians. Towards the end of his presidency, Jimmy Carter in a TV address told the nation that mortgage rates approaching 20 percent and hostages imprisoned in Iran were symptomatic of our country hitting the skids. Headlines dubbed this forthright admission the “Malaise Speech.” Ashen-faced Carter's dour expression matched his graying hair.
Along came an upbeat personality with thick dark hair and ruddy cheeks. Ronald Reagan, using biblical imagery, promised dispirited voters that we are a sparkling “city set on a hill that cannot be hid” (Matthew 5:14). National spirit perked up. His sunny demeanor won him the White House in 1980.
During Reagan's presidency, Americans became giddy over how good they were.
Historian Henry Steele Commager, in his book “The American Mind,” surveyed our country's past to discover what characteristics defined it. He described the No. 1 attribute that makes the American spirit soar. “As nature and experience justified optimism, the American was incurably optimistic,” observed Commager.
“The American saw the present with the eye of the future: saw not the struggling, dusty town but the shining city, not the shabby shop but the throbbing factory, not the rutted roads but gleaming rails. In every barefoot boy he saw a future president or millionaire, and so the future belonged to his children, he lived in them, worked for them, and pampered them.”
President Ronald Reagan personified this optimistic spirit. Jimmy Carter, the realist, didn't.
In June 1788, during Virginia's Ratification of the Constitution Convention, James Madison clashed with tea party favorite James Mason over the virtue and vice of its politicians.
Madison sounded like Reagan: “I go on this great republican principle, that the people will have virtue and intelligence to select men of virtue and wisdom.”
Mason, who distrusted federal government and refused to sign the Constitution, contradicted Madison's sunny view of human nature. Congress, “like all other assemblies, will be composed of some bad and some good men; and considering the natural lust for power so inherent in man,” warned Mason, “I fear the thirst for power will prevail to oppress people.”
Sounding like Madison and Reagan, Thomas Jefferson invested enormous confidence in citizens. He regarded the human spirit as primarily good, marred by occasional lapses into ignorance. Common folk using quality education, Jefferson believed, would achieve success at governing themselves, so much so that our nation could thrive with less government. It would shrink in direct proportion to educational reforms wise citizens made.
Commenting on Jefferson's hope for positive outcomes, historian Gordon S. Wood writes, “Thomas Paine and Thomas Jefferson remained very optimistic; indeed, they thought that the natural harmony of society might even replace much of governmental authority itself. If only the natural tendencies of people to love and care for one another were allowed to flow freely, unclogged by the artificial interference of government, particularly monarchical government, the most optimistic republicans ([in Jefferson's party) would prosper and hold itself together.”
Thomas Paine reduced the need for government because he elevated citizens' basic goodness. “Society,” wrote Paine “is produced by our wants and government by our wickedness.” Society “promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections,” government “negatively by restraining our vices.” Society “encourages intercourse,” government “creates distinctions.” Here's the tea party's charter for limited government.
Jefferson's presidency showed the effects of shrinking government. Sick of the artificial formality at George Washington's and John Adams' inaugurations when they rode in stately carriages, Jefferson humbly walked the inaugural route.
Reminiscent of English kings, Washington and Adams delivered state messages to Congress. Jefferson, a lousy public speaker, submitted his speeches in writing to the legislature.
He dressed casually, offending British leaders because he wore scuffed slippers at state dinners. Jefferson didn't reserve head chairs for important foreign ambassadors. He saluted the mythic Common Man, who eschewed fancy government.
To the tea party loyalists' dismay who support a large military, Jefferson reduced troops to 3,000 men and 172 officers, mostly stationed in the West. If war came, he predicted stout-hearted citizens would join local militias and form a loosely connected army. In the build-up to the War of 1812, when President Jefferson had retired but his military policy hadn't, good citizens stayed home. British Redcoats torched Washington City.
Alexander Hamilton rejected Jefferson's optimism for lean government and confidence in Americans' goodness. He labeled such giddy optimism as “pernicious dreams.” Hamilton branded ridiculous “the bewitching tenets of the illumined doctrine, which promises men emancipation from the burdens and restraints of government.” Sarcastic Hamilton in 1802 chided Jefferson's assertion of human goodness as “a most visionary theory.”
Hamilton was the realist with history on his side. We aren't basically generous, with greedy moments that education eradicates. We are motivated by self-interest with occasional bursts of sacrificial compassion. We need government's restraint, lest Wall Street's barons corrupt the U.S. and Washington's crooks cook the budget.
Theologian Reinhold Niebuhr declared the only Christian belief needing no proof is that we aren't all that good. It's self-evident. That's why our country needs robust government.
The Rev. Jack R. Van Ens is a Presbyterian minister who heads the nonprofit, tax-exempt Creative Growth (www.thelivinghistory.com), which enhances Christian worship through storytelling and dramatic presentations aimed to make God's history come alive. Van Ens' book, “How Jefferson Made the Best of Bad Messes,” is available in local bookstores for $7.95.
Along came an upbeat personality with thick dark hair and ruddy cheeks. Ronald Reagan, using biblical imagery, promised dispirited voters that we are a sparkling “city set on a hill that cannot be hid” (Matthew 5:14). National spirit perked up. His sunny demeanor won him the White House in 1980.
During Reagan's presidency, Americans became giddy over how good they were.
Historian Henry Steele Commager, in his book “The American Mind,” surveyed our country's past to discover what characteristics defined it. He described the No. 1 attribute that makes the American spirit soar. “As nature and experience justified optimism, the American was incurably optimistic,” observed Commager.
“The American saw the present with the eye of the future: saw not the struggling, dusty town but the shining city, not the shabby shop but the throbbing factory, not the rutted roads but gleaming rails. In every barefoot boy he saw a future president or millionaire, and so the future belonged to his children, he lived in them, worked for them, and pampered them.”
President Ronald Reagan personified this optimistic spirit. Jimmy Carter, the realist, didn't.
In June 1788, during Virginia's Ratification of the Constitution Convention, James Madison clashed with tea party favorite James Mason over the virtue and vice of its politicians.
Madison sounded like Reagan: “I go on this great republican principle, that the people will have virtue and intelligence to select men of virtue and wisdom.”
Mason, who distrusted federal government and refused to sign the Constitution, contradicted Madison's sunny view of human nature. Congress, “like all other assemblies, will be composed of some bad and some good men; and considering the natural lust for power so inherent in man,” warned Mason, “I fear the thirst for power will prevail to oppress people.”
Sounding like Madison and Reagan, Thomas Jefferson invested enormous confidence in citizens. He regarded the human spirit as primarily good, marred by occasional lapses into ignorance. Common folk using quality education, Jefferson believed, would achieve success at governing themselves, so much so that our nation could thrive with less government. It would shrink in direct proportion to educational reforms wise citizens made.
Commenting on Jefferson's hope for positive outcomes, historian Gordon S. Wood writes, “Thomas Paine and Thomas Jefferson remained very optimistic; indeed, they thought that the natural harmony of society might even replace much of governmental authority itself. If only the natural tendencies of people to love and care for one another were allowed to flow freely, unclogged by the artificial interference of government, particularly monarchical government, the most optimistic republicans ([in Jefferson's party) would prosper and hold itself together.”
Thomas Paine reduced the need for government because he elevated citizens' basic goodness. “Society,” wrote Paine “is produced by our wants and government by our wickedness.” Society “promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections,” government “negatively by restraining our vices.” Society “encourages intercourse,” government “creates distinctions.” Here's the tea party's charter for limited government.
Jefferson's presidency showed the effects of shrinking government. Sick of the artificial formality at George Washington's and John Adams' inaugurations when they rode in stately carriages, Jefferson humbly walked the inaugural route.
Reminiscent of English kings, Washington and Adams delivered state messages to Congress. Jefferson, a lousy public speaker, submitted his speeches in writing to the legislature.
He dressed casually, offending British leaders because he wore scuffed slippers at state dinners. Jefferson didn't reserve head chairs for important foreign ambassadors. He saluted the mythic Common Man, who eschewed fancy government.
To the tea party loyalists' dismay who support a large military, Jefferson reduced troops to 3,000 men and 172 officers, mostly stationed in the West. If war came, he predicted stout-hearted citizens would join local militias and form a loosely connected army. In the build-up to the War of 1812, when President Jefferson had retired but his military policy hadn't, good citizens stayed home. British Redcoats torched Washington City.
Alexander Hamilton rejected Jefferson's optimism for lean government and confidence in Americans' goodness. He labeled such giddy optimism as “pernicious dreams.” Hamilton branded ridiculous “the bewitching tenets of the illumined doctrine, which promises men emancipation from the burdens and restraints of government.” Sarcastic Hamilton in 1802 chided Jefferson's assertion of human goodness as “a most visionary theory.”
Hamilton was the realist with history on his side. We aren't basically generous, with greedy moments that education eradicates. We are motivated by self-interest with occasional bursts of sacrificial compassion. We need government's restraint, lest Wall Street's barons corrupt the U.S. and Washington's crooks cook the budget.
Theologian Reinhold Niebuhr declared the only Christian belief needing no proof is that we aren't all that good. It's self-evident. That's why our country needs robust government.
The Rev. Jack R. Van Ens is a Presbyterian minister who heads the nonprofit, tax-exempt Creative Growth (www.thelivinghistory.com), which enhances Christian worship through storytelling and dramatic presentations aimed to make God's history come alive. Van Ens' book, “How Jefferson Made the Best of Bad Messes,” is available in local bookstores for $7.95.
