itself? Most important, what can we learn from these events of our past to help build a better future and a stronger America?
For example, Madison wrote with mixed emotions about “factions,” or partisan strife, disdaining it (as did Washington), yet acknowledging it as unavoidable and inherent in human nature. “Ambition should counter ambition,” he observed. However, he likely would have been appalled at Martin Van Buren’s invention of a new, national party machinery, which evoked loyalty by rewarding supporters with jobs in both the party and the government. The result was something none of the Founders desired—an ever-growing federal government. Nor would Madison, having drafted many of the sections of the Constitution relating to a federal judiciary, have dreamed that the United States Supreme Court would seek to make itself the arbiter of personhood itself. It would not have surprised Madison to see that, by wading into such a morass in the case of the slave Dred Scott, the Supreme Court not only mucked up the central object of the case itself but managed to unintentionally start a financial panic as well.
On the other hand, the events following the Johnstown Flood, wherein ordinary private citizens took it upon themselves to provide aid and disaster relief and did so with heroism and efficiency, would have surprised none of the Founding Fathers. Indeed, they would have expected no less from the people, and would not have been surprised at the ineptitude and folly seen in Hurricane Katrina, during which the ill-prepared and ill-equipped federal government stepped in to “help.” Of course, even the Founding Fathers might have supported federal disaster relief in a matter of national security, but no logical rationale could justify the government’s policing of Americans’ diets. Nonetheless, this is exactly what happened after President Dwight Eisenhower suffered a heart attack, and the government, in a misguided campaign against heart disease, began advising Americans on what to eat. But this was only the beginning, with the “war on meat” soon to evolve into a war on sugar, salt, fats, and virtually any other food the government deemed “unhealthy.” To say the Founders would have been appalled is an understatement: their (and our) Revolution began when the British tried to dictate what tea we could drink!
Ironically, when it comes to something as foreign (or so it seems) to the Founding Fathers as rock and roll, a much different story unfolds. In the early 1960s, American rock was languishing, circling in the water until the Beatles arrived on Ed Sullivan’s stage. Suddenly, thousands of American musicians found their dreams anew, taking the music of the “British Invasion” and blasting out new, original, and—as it turned out—world-changing sounds. America’s new rock rolled through the Iron Curtain—despite several attempts to stop it—and, in the process, helped defeat communism. It did so without a dime of public support, reaffirming the Founders’ commitment to ensuring that individuals, not government, remain the source of artistic expression.
Of course, the man most credited with bringing down the Evil Empire, Ronald Reagan, certainly agreed with that principle. But Reagan’s role in the demise of communism—his greatest and enduring achievement—was marred by a significant misjudgment, namely, the deployment of marines as “peacekeepers” in Lebanon. When, months later, a terrorist truck bomb killed more than two hundred of the marines, Reagan withdrew them, but this was not enough to stop a new worldwide threat that was only beginning to be understood: radical Islamic jihad. Though the Founders might not have perceived this threat any quicker than the Gipper, they would have warned Reagan about the futility of “peacekeeping” missions.
Washington, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson would have been more familiar with another modern phenomenon—bias in the news. But,