This article is part of a series on American history. Cross-reference to Chapter 5 of A Patriot’s History of the United States.
In this post, we’ll cover the formative period of the United States, from Washington’s presidency to the end of the War of 1812 (which ended in 1815). While arbitrary, this cutoff point seemed to make sense, especially after consulting our source texts. Pre-1815, the nation faced a perilous combination of threats to its survival, many coming from abroad. Once the Napoleonic Wars ended in Europe, the subsequent cooling of trans-Atlantic conflicts largely secured America’s place as a de facto equal with France and Britain in key respects. Domestic affairs were hardly tranquil during this period, with the evolution of political parties and the ultimate Pyrrhic triumph of one over the other.
A No-Show Debate?
The discerning reader will of course note that no reference to People’s was made in our sub-heading; this is for the simple reason that Howard Zinn overlooked a great deal of this period in American history, especially as it concerns the critical events and debates of the time. One is less surprised by this when recalling that People’s covers key themes of the American story through a lens of class and oppression, and thereby focuses Zinn’s narrative talents on those areas most relevant to such a lens. We’ve already established that Zinn rejected Kissinger’s definition of history as “memory of the states”, and therefore where the memory of the state is at issue, People’s and Patriot’s will ultimately focus on very different things. As an investigator, I am saddened by this—it is as if our efforts to force these books to “talk to each other” is going much the same way as a presidential debate: too much is being said, and not enough is being heard.
Indeed, People’s omission of key facets of American history is enough for me to question whether Zinn’s left-wing perspectives are lenses (which, though not objective, are excusable biases found in everybody) or blinders (which lead to historical cherry-picking and an inexcusable substitution of ideology for curiosity). People’s is silent on: the political debates between Federalists and Republicans that shaped both our party systems and our methods of government; the creation from scratch of extra-constitutional precedents and customs that still influence our government; the foreign policy issues that nearly smothered the republic in the cradle; and the War of 1812 which, though a draw on the surface, did even more than the Revolution to establish America’s sovereignty in the eyes of European powers. People’s leaves no explanation for these omissions beyond the blanket statement in Chapter 1, which outlines Zinn’s approach to history as focusing on the forgotten man, the underdog, and the victim in his telling of the American story.
However, we must be fair. Patriot’s places light emphasis on a topic Zinn devotes an entire chapter to. In Chapter 6: “The Intimately Oppressed”, People’s seeks to shed some light on the invisible and subdued role women played during the early 19th-century period. People’s casts the Indian societies that preceded American settlers as far more respectful, even reverential, toward women than were European societies at the time. It quotes multiple sources which detail the views in which women were held at the time, which are unthinkable—and rightly so—to modern ears. It also includes writings from and details struggles by American women who demanded something better. Interestingly, New Jersey originally granted the vote to women in its accession to the Union, but revoked this right in 1807.
In a similar vein, Patriot’s gives scant attention to many other topics that Zinn finds important: the plights of black slaves and white indentured servants; the dismissive and brutal treatment of Indians; and the frequent complaints of disenfranchisement levied by the poor classes against the authorities of the time—both under colonial and U.S. governance. Because of this, I would expect that Schweikart & Allen would agree with Kissinger’s proposition of history far more than Zinn.
This creates an obvious difficulty for our purposes. Whether or not history is the “memory of the state” is not the point—America, unique among nations, relies on ideas and principles as the foundation and origin of the state. Because of this, for Americans, history is the very identity of the state. We made this clear in Part 1 of this series. Our authors may focus on different things (Zinn admitted to the “inevitable taking of sides” inherent in writing history), sometimes to the point of blatant omissions. But that is our task: to reconcile (or at least explain) opposing points of view, whether they directly address each other or not.
With that in mind, we turn our focus to Patriot’s summary of the first few iterations of American Constitutional government, which navigated through treacherous waters both at home and abroad.
Federalists: Conjured Precedents, Averted Catastrophes
While Washington’s wartime success and rarified bearing helped elevate him to the first presidency, his success in that office was no foregone conclusion. America was beset by high debts at both the national and state levels, and the wars in Europe following the French Revolution sought to pull the U.S. into the maelstrom.
Among his first actions was the selection of a cabinet, a group of presidential appointees, subject to Senate confirmation. The topic of the cabinet is not covered by the Constitution, and thus this move by Washington to select his advisors can be seen as the seed kernel of today’s federal bureaucracies. Among these appointees were Alexander Hamilton at Treasury and Thomas Jefferson at State—one wonders whether these choices were motivated by a desire to represent both of the developing views on American politics. If so, it went about as well as one could expect.
There is plenty of evidence that Washington displayed more than a fair share of acquiescence toward the policies Hamilton favored (Lin-Manuel Miranda’s musical, for the most part, offers an entertaining and accurate depiction of some of the key policy disputes). Indeed, Hamilton outworked the rest of the government, certainly lapping his rival Jefferson, and left his fingerprints in areas from finance to foreign policy—Jefferson would eventually resign from his cabinet post, partly out of frustration that Washington favored Hamilton’s advice even in Jefferson’s portfolio.
Hamilton’s bold plans included national assumption of all state debts and insisted that those debts would be paid off at face value. About three-quarter of these bonds were held by speculators who had bought them at a massive discount from the original buyers (likely because a high likelihood of default was priced in), and Hamilton’s plan caused outrage among regretful sellers of the securities. The plan also enraged those in solvent states (like Virginia) who saw themselves suddenly responsible for the irresponsibility of other states—however, Hamilton’s scheme did not ultimately require the states to be taxed in order to repay the combined debts.
Hamilton saw a successful financial system as critical for long-term prosperity (a point with which I, in finance myself, am inclined to agree with). Yet he also understood that a financial system is built upon trust more than anything else. To this end, he sought to walk a tight line, letting overextended speculators go bankrupt rather than bail them out, while also using the new Bank of the United States to provide liquidity to conscientious firms (though at high, un-subsidized rates).
Other of Hamilton’s ideas—raising a tax on corn products like whiskey—were less economically sound, and the whiskey tax culminated in the namesake Whiskey Rebellion. Washington moved quickly to disperse the protests with a show of military force. This made a strong statement about the rule of law and order, but conjured specters of recent British tyranny in the minds of Jefferson and others.
On the foreign policy front, the French Revolution in 1789 left the U.S. in the perilous position as war broke out again in Europe. Washington sought to declare neutrality, against Jefferson’s advice and without the consent of the Senate. However, American trading relations were hardly neutral, as 90% of imports came from Britain and her empire. The overly aggressive British Navy seized American ships and crews that were suspected of trading with France, prompting further outrage against Britain. Against this backdrop, the Jay Treaty, named for John Jay, was meant to finalize a number of issues with Britain following the war: disputing borders, British occupation of western forts, and compensation to American slave owners whose slaves had been freed by the British. Jay ultimately failed to achieve many concessions on any of these issues, earning a vitriolic response from political opponents. However, it is difficult from the vantage of history to level too much criticism, as America in the 1790s had a poor hand to play at the negotiating table.
The election of John Adams in 1796 saw an opportunity for constitutional crisis pass safely by. The Georgia ballot had “irregularities,” but Adams had the responsibility of counting the votes in his role as Vice President (and therefore, President of the Senate). One can draw the parallel between this questionable ballot and the controversies around Georgia in the 2020 election, which former president Donald Trump criticized and is, as of this writing, being charged with conspiracy to overturn the election results there. It is, at least, a good reminder of the inherent risks to integrity of voting mechanisms, especially at large scales. Adams was in the awkward position of having to acknowledge the Georgia ballot, count it himself, and therefore become president. Jefferson chose not to challenge the ballot, which helped avert any crisis.
Adam’s presidency proceeded as awkwardly as it began. Following Jay’s Treaty, France began to emulate Britain’s aggressive high seas practices, and in some cases open fighting broke out between American and French ships. Despite the anti-French outcries of Hamilton and others, Adams resolved the conflict through negotiation, and France agreed to respect American rights at sea.
At home, Adams’ tenure saw the short-lived Alien and Sedition Acts, which added restrictions on naturalized citizenship and outlawed libel or “conduct or language leading to rebellion”. Twenty-five people, mostly Republican newspaper editors, were convicted under such charges. Patriot’s points out that laws against sedition and libel were common at the time, and were more popular in that era’s political climate than would seem possible to our modern perceptions. Upon losing the election to Jefferson in 1800, Adams appointed a strong Federalist constituency to the judiciary, partly out of fear that a dominant Republican majority would persist in both Congress and the White House.
“Hamiltonian Means, Jeffersonian Ends”
Thus does Patriot’s describe Jefferson’s presidency. Jefferson sought to undo much of what came before him—his efforts to deny William Marbury his judicial appointment from Adams resulted in Marbury vs. Madison and the tradition of judicial review of government actions. He sought also to unravel Hamilton’s banking system, yet ultimately relied on it to further his own policies.
Patriot’s claim about Jefferson is based on the fact that he parted from the strict, decentralized government platform of his Republican party through two key acts. The first was the Louisiana Purchase. American representatives had been sent to Paris to negotiate a commercial treaty with access to New Orleans, not to buy the entire territory. Yet that was what they ended up doing, with fair accusations of hypocrisy hurled against them by the Federalists. No doubt Jefferson was aware that this land, sparsely populated and opened to settlement, would become an “empire of liberty” full of Republicans.
Jefferson’s other ideological suspension came in North Africa, where a group of pirate-states demanded tribute from vessels of all nations and plundered those who didn’t comply. When the pasha of Tripoli cut down the American flag, Jefferson determined to take unilateral action. Without foreign assistance, even lacking a declaration of war, American forces compelled the Barbary States to recognize American rights on the high seas. This set an early precedent of U.S. executives taking unilateral military action—more recently in the name of stopping the spread of communism in Asia or fighting terrorism.
While subduing the Barbary States sent a message of an America willing to play a role across the world, Jefferson’s reduction of the standing army and navy sent the opposite message, one which British aggravations at sea continued to exploit.
1812: A Decisive Draw
By the time Madison became president in 1809, the Republican party was firmly dominant over the Federalists of Adams and the (then dead) Hamilton. However, many in the Republican ranks (including Madison) leaned closer toward the centralized government of the Federalists and away from the state-level, decentralized vision of Jefferson. For such reasons, many would-be Federalists joined the Republican camp, realizing that the party offered plenty of scope for disagreement on key issues. Therefore, this period in history, ostensibly an era of one-party government, was anything but that.
As Madison reached office, sectional interests in the American west and north grew aligned in favor of war with Britain. Western congressmen from the new states of Kentucky and Tennessee were concerned about continued conflict between settlers and Indians—many of these Indians were allies of the British, and received British support even before the War of 1812 broke out. Meanwhile, northern merchants and sailors had long nursed grievances regarding British practices at sea.
The war was ultimately one for which neither side was particularly well-prepared. Britain had its hands full with Napoleon in Europe, and Jefferson’s neglect of the military led to some slow starts. American regulars and militiamen sought to invade Canada, but were emphatically rebuffed three times over. The war went poorly at sea as well. Despite the stellar performance of a few ships—the Constitution, or “Old Ironsides” distinguished herself in combat—the navy mainly comprised small gunboats relegated to coastal defense. The British conceived a three-pronged offensive to cripple the U.S. for good.
The first attack was on the central front: the British landed on the Chesapeake Bay and marched unimpeded to Washington, D.C., burning the White House. Moving up to Baltimore, they failed to breach Fort McHenry (out of which Francis Scott Key composed “The Star-Spangled Banner”). The second attack, on the northern front, saw a large British force thoroughly routed in upstate New York by American regulars and militia.
The stalemate caused flaring dissent among the Federalists, who convened at Hartford in 1814 to propose a separate peace between Britain and the New England states—amounting to secession. While this was not the only time the northern states considered seceding due to grievances against the Republicans, it was, to say the least, a failure to read the room. The Hartford Convention was another milestone on the Federalists’ path to political purgatory.
Once Napoleon was defeated in Europe, the peace on that continent meant that many of the points of contention between America and Britain would be naturally resolved: no more interference with trade, no more aggression on the high seas, no more need for Anglo-Indian alliances in North America. Over Christmas of 1814, the peace was signed at Ghent in Belgium. The signing of peace came too late to prevent the third wave of British attacks from coming to a nasty end at the Battle of New Orleans, where hardy American veterans, in a perfect defensive position, routed a large British column.
While the war ultimately ended in a draw, the Americans had “extracted a begrudging respect from Britain,” and the republic’s willingness to come to blows ensured it enough diplomatic capital to fend for itself on the world stage. In this sense, indecisive battlefield results were enough to provide critical recognition of America as an equal by France and Britain—the great European powers of the age. As one British politician supposedly said of the Americans: “We’ll get nothing but hard knocks there.”
In our next post, we’ll cover the period of Jackson and expansion, up to the rumblings of the Civil War.
