One question has to do with Congress: "By a curious refinement upon the spirit of republican jealousy," wrote Hamilton, "we are even taught to apprehend danger from the militia itself, in the hands of the federal government." And it is one thing to consider the question of a standing army in 1788, "But how the national legislature may reason on the point, is a thing which neither they nor I can foresee."
In the twenty-first century, the Congressional outlook on public safety and security is truly something Alexander Hamilton could not have foreseen; that question is clearly in play.
Perhaps familiar to us today, Hamilton observed that, to go by the popular arguments against the emerging Constitution, "a man is apt to imagine that he is perusing some ill-written tale or romance, which instead of natural and agreeable images, exhibits to the mind nothing but frightful and distorted shapes … discoloring and disfiguring whatever it represents, and transforming everything it touches into a monster."
A sample of this is to be observed in the exaggerated and improbable suggestions which have taken place respecting the power of calling for the services of the militia. That of New Hampshire is to be marched to Georgia, of Georgia to New Hampshire, of New York to Kentucky, and of Kentucky to Lake Champlain. Nay, the debts due to the French and Dutch are to be paid in militiamen instead of louis d'ors and ducats. At one moment there is to be a large army to lay prostrate the liberties of the people; at another moment the militia of Virginia are to be dragged from their homes five or six hundred miles, to tame the republican contumacy of Massachusetts; and that of Massachusetts is to be transported an equal distance to subdue the refractory haughtiness of the aristocratic Virginians. Do the persons who rave at this rate imagine that their art or their eloquence can impose any conceits or absurdities upon the people of America for infallible truths?
There are, in fact, reasons that we might truck around the National Guard from one state to another, but the sort of fearmongering Hamilton observed ought not be unfamiliar to us, today. For some, it wasn't simply a question of militia or standing army, but to stop the Constitution. Hamilton asks if the fearmongers ("persons who rave at this rate") really believe they can convince others that such things are true ("impose any conceits or absurdities … for infallible truths"). Attending today's modern conservatives, the possibility of attempting to use the National Guard to suppress political dissent draws nigh. To answer Hamilton directly: They call themselves patriots, and, yes, people will fall for the "inflammatory ravings of incendiaries or distempered enthusiasts". So, what is "the way in which usurpers stride to dominion over a numerous and enlightened nation"?
If there should be an army to be made use of as the engine of despotism, what need of the militia? If there should be no army, whither would the militia, irritated by being called upon to undertake a distant and hopeless expedition, for the purpose of riveting the chains of slavery upon a part of their countrymen, direct their course, but to the seat of the tyrants, who had meditated so foolish as well as so wicked a project, to crush them in their imagined intrenchments of power, and to make them an example of the just vengeance of an abused and incensed people? Is this the way in which usurpers stride to dominion over a numerous and enlightened nation? Do they begin by exciting the detestation of the very instruments of their intended usurpations? Do they usually commence their career by wanton and disgustful acts of power, calculated to answer no end, but to draw upon themselves universal hatred and execration? Are suppositions of this sort the sober admonitions of discerning patriots to a discerning people? Or are they the inflammatory ravings of incendiaries or distempered enthusiasts? If we were even to suppose the national rulers actuated by the most ungovernable ambition, it is impossible to believe that they would employ such preposterous means to accomplish their designs.
The twenty-first century suggests strongly different answers than 1788; Alexander Hamilton never had occasion to hear a Jade Helm conspiracy theorist explain the dangers of Critical Race Theory, but the question of what conceits and absurdities might pass for infallible truths directing the instruments of state. Then again, he did have some idea about absurd conceits: "Of the different grounds which have been taken in opposition to the plan of the convention, there is none that was so little to have been expected, or is so untenable in itself, as the one from which this particular provision has been attacked." On that point, he referred to the prospect of national security being entrusted to a competing interest, a manner of contradiction that can still sometimes be found in twenty-first century politicking. What preposterous means would who employ in order to accomplish which designs?
It would be one thing to suggest Hamilton was naïve, but toward that I sympathize with confoundment at prosepect of presupposing that many of my American neighbors to be so low. It ought to be hard to believe such things about everyday Americans, but at some point the experience we are having is the reality in which we exist, and certain things do appear to be happening. It's one thing if our miserable foreign-policy adventures fulfill and even exceed the worst nightmares of the Founders, but show them the killing fields of police violence and corruption, a rightist bacchanal of censorship, and even plans to enforce the laws of one state within the boundaries of another, and then point out that these are the
patriots.
What will the Congress do? That question remains in play, and in certain ways it always will. But Hamilton's acknowledgment that "how the national legislature may reason … is a thing which neither they nor I can foresee" is both an easy truism and a necessary reminder. Moreover, the hopeful presuppositions upon which he based his answers are, two hundred thirty-five years later, shaken, eroded, and weakened. Do the persons who "rave" with "exaggerated and improbable suggestions" believe that the "art" or "eloquence" of their political rhetoric can convince people, or "impose" those suggestions, those "conceits" and "absurdities", as "infallible truths" in lieu of something more real? Compared to 1788, the American heritage has transformed the art of selling political conceit and absurdity as infallible truth into a profitable industry sector. While Hamilton was not necessarily naïve, the confident assurance of his expression reflects a different time with different human and societal expectations. "Wanton and disgustful acts of power, calculated to answer no end, but to draw upon themselves universal hatred and execration"? These days, there is no "universal hatred and execration"; now it's just one side of a story, and many people are so easily confused as to be unable to discern between what is true and what is gratifying. Just how much do they really think they can get away with, Hamilton asks, and in the twenty-first century, the answer looks a lot worse than he was willing to presuppose. They can get away with a lot, and do.
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Notes:
Publius. "Concerning the Militia". The Federalist Papers #29. 10 January 1788. Avalon.Law.Yale.edu. 14 February 2023. http://bit.ly/3RXeosv
