George Washington is not often studied these days, in schools or universities, as an important thinker about American constitutionalism or, more broadly, liberal republicanism. Recent scholars are sure that, just as we have debunked the hagiography spun by Parson Weems, so too Washington's ideas were merely borrowed from such smarter contemporaries as Mason, Madison, Jefferson, Hamilton, or Adams. This attitude comports with the progressive theory that deprecates the traditional concept of the sober, judicious statesman in favor of the more putatively democratic idea of the leader as innovative agent of popular rule. The popular leader ushers in transformative plans and programs. Such a leader is thus a public intellectual attuned to human progress, in service of the people's needs. Who could be further from that ideal than General Washington? He was not even a brilliant general (as intellectuals since Tom Paine have claimed). Moreover, he was remote, antidemocratic, conservative, and an aristocratic slaveholder. He was an effective figurehead for a revolution and a new constitutional order, and he mastered the harnessing of ambition by sculpting a public persona that led to fame. That said, he offered no serious ideas that could guide the further development of, and especially further democratization of, the polity he helped to establish.
Jeffry Morrison's careful study of Washington begs to differ with these now conventional views, and the study of politics is the richer for his efforts. This small volume recounts some of the recent scholarship that rebuts the progressive critique of Washington as nonthinker, although that focus does not leave room to articulate anew the ideals of statesmanship and constitutional republicanism that Washington forged for modern liberal democracy, thereby explaining why serious citizens and thinkers today should return to such wisdom. Rather, Morrison offers an intellectual history that is a valuable archive for understanding the various strands of political and moral thinking evident in Washington's public statements and letters, and which informed his deeds. This approach comports with two earlier volumes in this series from Johns Hopkins University Press (“The Political Philosophy of the American Founders”): those on Jefferson and Madison by Garrett Ward Sheldon (the series editor), although the volume on Franklin by Lorraine Smith Pangle is more philosophical. Morrison follows Sheldon in finding three ideologies, or schools of political thinking, dominant in Washington's philosophy, as in the thought of Jefferson and Madison, too: classical republicanism, British liberalism, and Protestant Christianity. The evidence for each school is sifted in a careful review of Washington's major writings, his letters, the contents of his large library at Mount Vernon, and contemporaneous writings and comments that provide context. It is vitally important today to document that Washington did blend some versions of these three schools in his most important writings, and that this amalgam informed his unparalleled deeds—from successful rule as commanding general and as president, to twice resigning such powerful offices, to ultimately emancipating all his slaves. Those who accept the “dumb general” caricature should be chastened by Morrison's elegant and concise sampling of Washington's writings, which shows how much serious thought percolated through his voluminous corpus, albeit the more fragmented corpus of a busy statesman.
Morrison reviews the evidence that Washington was an impressive autodidact—almost foreshadowing Lincoln's ability to overcome a minimal education—and that Washington was committed to learning, writing, books, and support for educational institutions throughout his adult life. Similarly, he demonstrates that careful study of such major documents as Washington's 1783 Circular (published just prior to resigning as victorious general) and his 1796 Farewell Address is indispensable for understanding the principles of, and leading debates in, the American founding era. This is not only because Washington reflected the ideas of his day and occupied the moderate position on many issues, but also because he contributed to their formulation and sometimes led the way—for example, by transcending provincialism to propose a national republic and national political-moral culture for America. It would have been helpful to note, further, that Washington wrote to Madison early in 1787 urging him to analyze the “radical cures” needed for America's constitutional order, instead of merely revising the Articles of Confederation. Morrison does note that Jefferson and Madison placed the Farewell Address on the curriculum of the University of Virginia in the 1820s, and it is hard to believe they would do so if they considered Washington simply a dummy for the ventriloquist Hamilton. Moreover, he helpfully reminds us that for his Farewell Address Washington drew upon drafts by not only Madison and Hamilton but also that Hamilton consulted Jay—thus that the authors comprising Publius of The Federalist also shaped this other testament of the founders. Morrison's most distinctive contribution is his emphasis on Christianity as a crucial element of Washington's thought and perhaps the dominant one, a treatment that echoes his earlier scholarship on the Reverend Witherspoon's influence on the founding generation.
What is missing is an argument as to why and how Washington blended republicanism, liberalism, and Christianity into a political philosophy, and why this amalgam would be compelling today. Morrison helpfully undercuts the late-twentieth-century debates that insisted either liberalism or republicanism must be predominant for America's founders, for he documents that Washington subscribed to both schools and was a Christian thinker as well. The significance of this fact for understanding American political thought or liberal democracy could be developed: America's leading founder, and a crucial figure in the history of liberal democracy, forged by his words and deeds a new alloy that sought to bring out and balance the best in each school. However, while Morrison notes other syncretic Americans of the era, he briefly notes only two philosophers to justify the claim that Washington's eclectic blending was a “political philosophy”: Cicero (who blended various Greek schools), and Locke (who blended classical, Christian, and modern liberal ideas). To take only Locke, there is no mention of the debates about his relationship to Christianity, or the argument that Locke's liberalism repudiates classical and medieval philosophy. Morrison never mentions Montesquieu, the great amalgamator of modern political philosophy, though Montesquieu repeatedly borrows from classical republicanism, modern liberalism, and Christianity in developing his complex philosophy. It is not dispositive that Washington didn't own a copy of The Spirit of Laws, because he didn't have Locke's Second Treatise of Government in his library, either. Moreover, Washington's complex republicanism—of tripartite separation of powers blended with federalism, promoting a blend of commerce and Christian morals to pacify politics, and further calling for civic virtue among statesmen and citizens—invokes Montesquieu, not Locke. The Federalist repeatedly cites Montesquieu and his disciple Blackstone, but never Locke; these two synthesizers are cited more than Locke is during the 1780s and 1790s in American political debate. Moderate liberalism, not simply British liberalism, was fundamental for Washington and provided a model for his syncretism.
It also makes sense that a judicious, sober statesman would hold a complex philosophy of the type offered by an Aristotle, Cicero, or Montesquieu rather than the more deductive, doctrinaire model of philosophers such as Locke. The lodestar of Montesquieu's philosophy is his concept of moderation, of blending and balancing not only ideas but also claims of just rule to achieve the best understanding of, and provide the best guidance for, human nature and politics. There are several points where Morrison's portrait of Washington misses this kind of moderation in the founder's views. On foreign policy, Morrison almost collapses the neutrality policy and the advice of the Farewell Address into Jefferson's more isolationist concern with entangling alliances. Washington instead argued for a balance of interest and justice to guide our affairs, and for avoiding alliances that subordinated America; for a new nation that needed to mature, temporary rather than permanent alliances were thus preferable. That wisdom does not preclude, pace Morrison, today's NATO alliance or American international leadership that ensures independence and tranquility in new circumstances. On religion, defining this element of his thought as “Protestant Christianity” does not comport with Washington's insistence upon religious liberty and pluralism. Morrison rightly praises Washington's overtures to Catholics, Jews, and other minorities, but in doing so Washington followed the spirit of Montesquieu, nominally a Catholic, who criticized English illiberality toward Catholics and Catholic injustices toward Protestants, thereby transcending Locke's qualified tolerance (especially his intolerance toward Catholics). Moreover, Morrison largely ignores the “Rules of Civility” that young Washington recorded by hand, although Richard Brookhiser and other scholars persuasively argue that its maxims guided his statesmanship. Perhaps the Rules shaped Washington's syncretism as well—for they were penned by French Jesuits, blending classical and Christian views of education for gentlemen.
Washington's policies of moderation offer provocations for many current schools of thought. These perspectives concern ideals for transforming human nature and society as well as the claims of a specific philosophical school to capture the complexity of human affairs and justice. They address the need to keep permanent options of politics in balance—conservation and progress, refined practical wisdom and popular consent, faith and reason, ambition and service, law and prudence, force and talk. Morrison's study reminds us to engage these questions and to admire the thought and deeds of a statesman whose accomplishments in both realms still set him apart. This work deserves to be studied and debated by political scientists, historians, and public intellectuals concerned with America's fundamental political principles and those of liberal democracy.
