THE FOURTH OF JULY
America celebrates its 250th birthday tomorrow.
It is an interesting number.
At two hundred fifty years of age, we have outlived Athenium democracy by sixty-three years but are only a little more than half way to matching the Roman republic's almost five century life span or the Republic of Florence's four hundred fifty four years. By these measures, America can claim to be either the oldest surviving democracy or a middle-aged republic.
So . . .
What should be celebrate?
An historic milestone?
Or a mid-life crisis?
I vote for . . .
Neither.
On Wednesday I went to a program at the Old State House in Hartford sponsored by the Connecticut Democracy Center. The program featured re-enactors from Connecticut's Revolutionary era and a presentation on the history of that era from Central Connecticut State University Professor Matthew Warshauer.
The re-enactors played the state's pre- and post-revolutionary Governor Jonathon Trumbull and its most notable founder Roger Sherman. Trumbull, who served from 1769 to 1785 and thus two putative sovereigns, was the only colonial Governor to support American independence, and Sherman signed all four of the Revolutionary period's central documents -- the Articles of Association, the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution. Professor Warshauer painted a vivid picture of Connecticut's contribution to American independence. He claimed that contribution was "indispensable", and in both his presentation as well as an enlightening reprint of an article he previously wrote and made available, he laid out the series of acts that made it so.
Under Trumbull, Connecticut became the "Provisions State". It sent desperately needed men to Washington's Continental Army and, perhaps even more importantly, desperately needed food to feed the General’s oft-times starving soldiers. (Though not mentioned in Wednesday's talk, Trumbull also embraced what today we would call big government -- he controlled inflation by limiting the amount of paper money in circulation in the state and by increasing taxes, and he supported embargoes to protect the. supplies of materials needed for the war effort.)
For his part, Roger Sherman, the man of many formative documents, appeared to know the outcome of the struggle had to be independence avant la lettre. In July 1775, he wrote Gov. Trumbull's son, Joseph, that "after . . . Concord and Lexington . . . I hope every Colony will take Government fully into their own hands until matters are settled." As Prof. Warshauer explained in his monograph, "Whether Sherman thought settled matters might ultimately include a return to British rule is unclear, but he very soon after was appointed by the Second Continental Congress to the important committee on the regulation of trade . . . and had to consider the question of independence in March 1776 because any agreement for foreign trade 'would imply independence.'"
During this period, Prof. Warshauer continues, "the dominoes of American colonial independence began to fall." Thomas Paine's Common Sense was published in January 1776 and, Warshauer notes, became an instant best seller "with 120,000 copies printed in the first three months and 500,000 in twenty-five editions by the end of 1776." Historians estimate that, for every published version, there were four readers. Because the pamphlet was also serialized in newspapers, including in the Connecticut Courant a mere month after publication, and the country's 2.5 million inhabitants were highly literate, the likelihood is that almost all American adults read its "unadorned, no nonsense style about the situation . . . America found itself in after a decade of opposition to Parliament following the 1765 Stamp Act, the closing and occupation of Boston by British troops, and the bloodletting that had occurred at Lexington and Concord . . . and then . . . at Bunker Hill".
With Paine, they concluded . . .
"'Tis time to part.'"
On June 7, 1776, Virginia's Richard Henry Lee formally asked the Second Continental Congress to declare "That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States . . . absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown".
On June 8, Connecticut's General Assembly adjourned for the year. On learning of Lee's request, however, Gov. Trumbull called them back into session on June 14. In mere days, they wrote the colony’s own Declaration of Independence and by June 20 had it delivered to their Congressional delegates in Philadelphia, Roger Sherman included. As Prof. Warshaw pointed out, that Declaration and those from other colonies and towns throughout America so anticipated Jefferson's, "utilizing many of the same words and phrases . . . and certainly much of the intent”, as to make the Virginian’s famous version a compilation as much as a creation.
Either way, it was a singular document.
At the end of his talk, Prof. Warshauer told us what he does every year to celebrate the Fourth of July.
He re-reads the Declaration of Independence and Frederick Douglass's "What To The Slave Is The Fourth of July". The latter was Douglass’s address to the Rochester Ladies' Anti-Slavery Society in June 1852.
The professor advised we all do the same.
So I did.
It is good advice.
It shouldn't replace parades, fireworks, barbecues, the Boston Pops or whatever DC celebration PBS will broadcast this year.
But it doesn't take long.
And it is as important or, dare I say, more important than all those alternatives.
In reading Jefferson's Declaration of Independence and Douglass's Anti-Slavery Society Address side by side, the documents share many features. The most obvious similarity is that they are both briefs. They make arguments.
For most Americans, the line we remember from the Declaration of Independence is the famous one, the one Walter Isaacson dissects in The Greatest Sentence Ever Written:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness."
The line is, of course, great.
And it is fundamental.
It is also revolutionary.
And not just politically.
It elided the on-going debate over what was knowable. Its reliance on what was "self-evident" tied truth to experience without making it unduly contingent. This wasn't a stand based on Plato's forms, St. Thomas's Summa, Descarte's cogito, or even Hume's skepticism. Instead, inserted as an edit to Jefferson's draft by Benjamin Franklin, it was a piece of American pragmatism that allowed us to understand truths without fretting over whether they were divine or mathematical, and then act on them without pretending they were dubious.
This was important.
For two reasons.
First, though God is mentioned for the first time in the third clause of the greatest sentence, the truths are knowable by us without assistance from Him. We know them because we live them, see them and feel them. Second, although the Creator -- whoever that uspecified He, She or It may be -- is acknowledged as the source of those endowed "unalienable Rights" -- "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness -- we know them for the same reason . . .
They too are self-evident.
They weren’t revealed by a Church, granted by a King or conjured from an abstract thought.
They were just evident.
And in America, all you had to do to understand this was . . .
Live there.
Going into battle from this impregnable fortress, Jefferson then launched his central structural claim and "legal" argument.
The claim was that "Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed" and could be changed "whenever any Form . . . becomes destructive of these ends."
The argument was an eighteen point itemized bill of particulars that catalogued King George III's "long train of abuses and usurpations" and justified American independence.
The bill was detailed. Among others, it indicted the King for shutting down the governments and courts the Crown had accepted for over a century; for quartering a standing army of soldiers "in time of peace" and "imposing taxes without our consent"; and for sending "large Armies of foreign mercenaries" to suppress the colonists' justifiable insurrection.
Seventy-six years later, Frederick Douglass delivered his "What To The Slave Is The Fourth of July" address to the Rochester Ladies' Anti-Slavery Society.
It too was an argument.
And it too started with self-evident truths.
For him, the Declaration of Independence was '"the Ringbolt to the chain of [America’s] destiny."
"The principles in that instrument” were, he argued, “saving principles."
"Stand by those principles," he implored his audience.
“Be true to them on all occasions, in all places, against all foes, and at whatever cost . . . Cling . . . to [them] with the grasp of a storm-crossed mariner to a spar at midnight."
They were non-negotiable.
Then he praised the Founders.
"They seized upon eternal principles,” he said, “and set a glorious example in their defence."
But, he admitted, that was then.
And his "business" was now.
“Why am I called upon to speak here today,” he asked.
“What have I, or those I represent, to do with your national independence?”
“Are the great principles of political freedom and of natural rights, embodied in the Declaration of Independence, extended to us?
The answers were self-evident.
They were not.
The revered Declaration was a fraud.
"The sunlight that brought life and healing to you," he intoned, "has brought stripes and death to me. The Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice. I must mourn.”
His subject, he said, was “AMERICAN SAVERY.” On it, he would “not hesitate to declare . . . that the character and conduct of this nation never looked bleaker . . . than on this Fourth of July.” And by virtue of it, “America [was] false to the past, false to the present, and solemnly binds itself to be false to the future."
"What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July," he demanded.
That too was self-evident.
It was:
"[A] day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity."
He was not finished.
Before the ladies could leave, he condemned America's internal slave trade in which "millions were pocketed every year by dealers in this horrid traffic"; its recently-enacted Fugitive Slave Law that effectively nationalized slavery and incentivized judges to decide cases in the slaveholder's favor; and its churches, which refused to condemn that law and thus "convert[ed] the very name of religion into an engine of tyranny."
"The existence of slavery," he told them, "brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as a base pretense, and your Christianity as a lie."
With all that, however, he ended "where" he "began”.
And that was “with hope."
" [M]y spirit is . . . cheered by the obvious tendencies of the age,” he explained. “Nations do not now stand in the same relation to each other as they did ages ago. No nation can now shut itself up from the surrounding world . . . Oceans no longer divide . . . Space is comparatively annihilated. Thoughts expressed on one side of the Atlantic, are distinctly heard on the other."
In that world, he concluded, all would draw "encouragement from 'the Declaration of Independence'" and "the great principles it announces.”
So . . .
What is Prof. Warshauer celebrating this and, so he says, every Fourth of July?
Perhaps it is the reality that our capacity to deceive must be acknowledged alongside our capacity to inspire . . .
That self-denial can kill self-evident . . .
That none of us are equal until all of us are . . .
And that, however unalienable those Rights may be . . .
The Creator who endows them exists alongside . . .
The Devil who would destroy them.
We celebrate independence tomorrow.
But we must fight for it every day.
And, perhaps now more than ever, that too is . . .
Self-evident.
Happy Fourth.
