Thanks to Cole Simmons for mentioning this. The problem: the Declaration of Independence does not have legal standing. One could say it’s like acid on nearly any set of laws. An appeal to “nature’s God” could yield anything.

The problem was very acute when slavery was legal. “All men are created equal” did not ennoble all Americans. “Liberty for all,” then, needed to be seen as setting us in motion. Lincoln is emphatic it comes from the Declaration. He describes the revolutionaries as “oppressed:”

No oppressed, [sic] people will fight, and endure, as our fathers did, without the promise of something better, than a mere change of masters.

The pursuit of liberty involves understanding all as equal in some way. At the least, we fight oppressors together. A parallel exists between the spirit of the laws and the laws themselves:

[The assertion "Liberty for all" was] the word, “fitly spoken” which has proved an “apple of gold” to us. The Union, and the Constitution, are the picture of silver, subsequently framed around it.

The laws should aid equality in order to bring us to liberty. This does not mean communism, but working with a near perpetual tension between opportunity and dignity. Slavery removes dignity from the picture. The “fighting” – the base, essential assertion of right – is inherent in the law truly conceived.

MR. CUYLER:- I am filled with deep emotion at finding myself standing here in the place where were collected together the wisdom, the patriotism, the devotion to principle, from which sprang the institutions under which we live. You have kindly suggested to me that in my hands is the task of restoring peace to our distracted country. I can say in return, sir, that all the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originated, and were given to the world from this hall in which we stand. I have never had a feeling politically that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. I have often pondered over the dangers which were incurred by the men who assembled here and adopted that Declaration of Independence – I have pondered over the toils that were endured by the officers and soldiers of the army, who achieved that Independence. (Applause.) I have often inquired of myself, what great principle or idea it was that kept this Confederacy so long together. It was not the mere matter of the separation of the Colonies from the mother land; but something in that Declaration giving liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but hope to the world for all future time. (Great applause.) It was that which gave promise that in due time the weights would be lifted from the shoulders of all men, and that all should have an equal chance. (Cheers.) This is the sentiment embodied in that Declaration of Independence.

Now, my friends, can this country be saved upon that basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world, if I can help to save it. If it cannot be saved upon that principle, it will be truly awful. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up that principle – I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it.

Now, in my view of the present aspect of affairs, there need be no bloodshed and war. There is no necessity for it. I am not in favor of such a course, and I may say, in advance, that there will be no blood shed unless it be forced upon the Government. The Government will not use force unless force is used against it (Prolonged applause and cries of “That’s the proper sentiment.”)

My friends, this is wholly an unexpected speech, and I did not expect to be called upon to say a word when I came here – I supposed it was merely to do something toward raising the flag. I may, therefore, have said something indiscreet. (Cries of “no, no”), but I have said nothing but what I am willing to live by and, in the pleasure of Almighty God, die by.

Comment:

All of American history is the tension between equality and liberty. Democracy needs both, but we tend to swing too far to one side or the other in our rhetoric. However, equality may generally have a greater moral significance than liberty. I originally considered just blogging this for the 4th:

Shaw’s letters clearly state that he was dubious about a free black unit succeeding, but the dedication of his men deeply impressed him, and he grew to respect them as fine soldiers. On learning that black soldiers would receive less pay than white ones, he inspired his unit to conduct a boycott until this inequality was rectified. (from Wikipedia)

The work of equality is just that: work. To make a Declaration was a deed that inspired sentiments. The most important of those sentiments animated Lincoln to save the Union. I don’t know that liberty has a necessary, corresponding effort.

Moral significance does not simply stem from doing stuff. The issue of justice comes mainly out of inequality. Intuitively, this makes sense. Most of us consider being able to do what we want without regard to others a privilege. If we see someone else doing what they want and we’re not allowed to do something, it isn’t really liberty at stake, it’s equality. This is not to diminish the significance of liberty: obviously there are times it matters far more than equality. And I need not say anything about the massive sacrifices being made right now on behalf of all of us. But I suspect our diet for the 4th will be a lot of “freedom isn’t free” rhetoric, which can sometimes diminish our everyday efforts in building each other up.

Remarks to Baltimore Presbyterian Synod, Washington, D.C. (October 24, 1863)
Abraham Lincoln

Gentlemen of the Baltimore Synod: I can only say that in this case, as in many others, I am profoundly grateful for the support given me in every field of labor in which it can be given, and which has ever been extended to me by the religious community of the country. I saw before taking my position here that I was to have an administration, if it could be called such, of extraordinary difficulty, and it seems to me that it was ever present with me as an extraordinary matter that in the time of the greatest difficulty that this country had ever experienced, or was likely to experience, the man who, at the least of it, gave poor promise of ability, was brought out for duty at that time. I was early brought to the living reflection that there was nothing in the arms of this man, however there might be in others, to rely upon for such difficulties, and that with the direct assistance of the Almighty I was certain of failing. I sincerely wish that I was a more devoted man than I am. Sometimes in my difficulties I have been driven to the last resort to say God is still my only hope. It is still all the world to me.

I again say I thank you in the name of the religious people of the country generally, and in the name of our common Father of returning you my thanks for the encouraging and most unanimous support that has been constantly given me. I know not that I can say more.

Comment:

Lincoln says he is “profoundly grateful” for “support given” in every “field of labor” in which it can be given. Contrasts exist between “every field of labor” and “giving” vs. “the religious community” and “extending.” “Every field of labor” implies many arts, divisions. “The religious community” emphasizes unity. “Given” is used to denote limit; not every field of labor can give. “Extended” is not a product apart from the religious, but seems to be intrinsic to its nature.

None of this is to say in Lincoln’s mind that the religious stand apart and above “every field of labor.” While many who consider themselves religious see themselves as laboring in the Lord’s sight, “they also serve who only stand and wait.” A different kind of spiritedness characterizes those who are pious from those who want to be more explicitly honored in practical endeavors, but what is common to both is spirit. Moreover, “field of labor” strictly describes Lincoln’s own position, perhaps too fully. Politics is the realm of action (i.e. “executive”). He gives, but his giving is not unlimited, and depends on the job.

Lincoln brings out the problem with his comment about “administration” – extent is what he does not possess, but needs. His task was broken from the start. Twice he uses the term “extraordinary,” what is beyond order or human arrangement. First, his “administration” seemed initially to be of “extraordinary difficulty” to him. Second, it was an “extraordinary matter” that he, with “poor promise of ability,” was called to duty during this country’s “time of… greatest difficulty.” The administration, by itself, lacks extent. But the “extraordinary matter,” which sounds like it could be from Judges, reconciles limited giving with unlimited extent. Lincoln’s language goes out of its way to emphasize that this makes no sense: if this is a miracle, then it will never be rationally accounted. A more proper division between things was given when “every field of labor” and “religious community” were first spoken.

What has made Lincoln “devoted,” in his very, very limited way, is the nature of the task before him. Xenophon’s Socrates often tells interlocutors that after they have made appropriate preparation for a task they can do, they should be praying. The results of a given task are not up to us (contrast with Socrates’ lifestyle and complete control of speech to see the full teaching). There is a similar statement of the import of religion here: it seems very practical. That’s not a bad thing, not at all. Our limitations in the face of most necessary tasks unite us. Lincoln says thank you in the name of the religious people of the county, and the common Father. One wonders to what degree these are the same: Lincoln’s preservation of the law matters as much people care there is a law to preserve. The final emphasis is on silence in the face of spirit, “the encouraging and most unanimous support that has constantly been given me.”

To the Father and Mother of Col. Elmer E. Ellsworth:

My dear Sir and Madam,

In the untimely loss of your noble son, our affliction here, is scarcely less than your own. So much of promised usefulness to one’s country, and of bright hopes for one’s self and friends, have rarely been so suddenly dashed, as in his fall. In size, in years, and in youthful appearance, a boy only, his power to command men, was surpassingly great. This power, combined with a fine intellect, an indomitable energy, and a taste altogether military, constituted in him, as seemed to me, the best natural talent, in that department, I ever knew. And yet he was singularly modest and deferential in social intercourse. My acquaintance with him began less than two years ago; yet through the latter half of the intervening period, it was as intimate as the disparity of our ages, and my engrossing engagements, would permit. To me, he appeared to have no indulgences or pastimes; and I never heard him utter a profane, or intemperate word. What was conclusive of his good heart, he never forgot his parents. The honors he labored for so laudably, and, in the sad end, so gallantly gave his life, he meant for them, no less than for himself.

In the hope that it may be no intrusion upon the sacredness of your sorrow, I have ventured to address you this tribute to the memory of my young friend, and your brave and early fallen child.

May God give you that consolation which is beyond all earthly power. Sincerely your friend in a common affliction –

A. Lincoln

Comment:

The opening of the letter is peculiar, to say the least: “In the untimely loss of your noble son, our affliction here, is scarcely less than your own.” A country’s loss is as great as a family’s? “Noble” may not just be an adjective used to describe bravery generally. It may hearken back to the idea of something like Jefferson’s “natural aristocracy,” where those who have shown merit are more fit to govern. It may even go further, back to a classical idea of a “gentleman,” someone who has virtues that not everyone else may have. Of course, in the background is the predominant notion of “noble,” that of a person who inherited land by virtue of blood, whose family actually owns in perpetuity a part of a country and cannot be displaced except by the most complete of revolutions.

Lincoln seems to me to work with these notions of nobility in this letter. His very next sentence:

So much of promised usefulness to one’s country, and of bright hopes for one’s self and friends, have rarely been so suddenly dashed, as in his fall.

The “noble” promises to be useful to one’s country. This encompasses all notions of nobility described above. The hopes of one’s self and friends are a different matter; this is more or less the classical notion of the noble that led to the factional strife the Federalist condemns. Those “hopes” always led to claims to rule, but notice how careful Lincoln’s language is. The list is of three: country, self, friends. The movement is to friends. It starts with utility, ends with hopes. A country based on freedom is a means to an end, and excellence for oneself and one’s friends is a perfectly acceptable end. And yet the need to be useful to one’s country has caused this loss of life.

Lincoln continues:

In size, in years, and in youthful appearance, a boy only, his power to command men, was surpassingly great. This power, combined with a fine intellect, an indomitable energy, and a taste altogether military, constituted in him, as seemed to me, the best natural talent, in that department, I ever knew.

The dead soldier symbolizes a country not even a hundred years old, one that allows natural talents to rule in place of traditions. This sounds like it could solve the problem the discussion above brought forth: if men of virtue/nobility are what we want in a country, how can we send them out to die so easily? The “answer” provided by considerations at this point is too cynical, however. We can send people to die because we don’t really care about their hopes; what matters is that their merit showed itself and was allowed to express itself. He was free to be a good solider here, and the result is what it is.

Lincoln cannot possibly end on that note. We need to know in some way how our affliction is as great as the family’s, how the private loss constitutes a public loss in the fullest sense.

And yet he was singularly modest and deferential in social intercourse.

The letter has a reversal of sorts: one who would have every excuse for brashness had none. Given popular perception of the United States, and given some US actions (i.e. trying to conquer Mexico to turn it into a bunch of slave states), one could very easily ascribe “brashness” to this country. But you couldn’t ascribe it to the best of this country:

My acquaintance with him began less than two years ago; yet through the latter half of the intervening period, it was as intimate as the disparity of our ages, and my engrossing engagements, would permit. To me, he appeared to have no indulgences or pastimes; and I never heard him utter a profane, or intemperate word.

The letter is moving backwards, so to speak. In place of a discussion of how the young soldier commanded is a discussion of how the young commander related to his commander. There is no discussion of ability or martial spirit; in its place is temperance, perhaps the central classical virtue, and one usually loaded with evangelical ideas of how people should be (i.e. don’t drink anything, don’t curse, don’t dance, etc.). What is notable here is the simple respect he had for one’s elders. The  discussion of his spiritedness has been replaced by modesty, but why?

What was conclusive of his good heart, he never forgot his parents. The honors he labored for so laudably, and, in the sad end, so gallantly gave his life, he meant for them, no less than for himself.

We’re right back where we started, except instead of “country, self, friends” we have “parents.” His virtue was not merely from his nature, but cultivated privately. The private links with the public in that honor is meaningless outside of what his family thinks. We can give praise, but in the land of the free, that’s nowhere close to the be-all and end-all. What matters is the principle you personally stand for. Nobility is  almost entirely a private phenomenon that results in public goods. What he did for his parents and himself we recognize as laudable. It is not clear this logic can stand the slightest scrutiny, unless one sees “honor thy father and mother” as a central commandment to us all.

So we cannot stop here: What binds the parents to the Union? I can point out plenty of people who wave the flag nowadays and mutter about secession constantly – it isn’t clear to me that professed patriotism actually creates patriots. Lincoln concludes:

In the hope that it may be no intrusion upon the sacredness of your sorrow, I have ventured to address you this tribute to the memory of my young friend, and your brave and early fallen child.

May God give you that consolation which is beyond all earthly power. Sincerely your friend in a common affliction –

People naturally make friends; we can extend that concept and say with Tocqueville “associations.” As mentioned before on this blog, it isn’t clear what the private in-and-of itself is. Looking for self-knowledge means looking away from oneself constantly. In this case, the friend was the Executive power of the United States. The “sacredness” of sorrow diverges from natural friendship, like the way only God can console and no earthly power can. The letter ends with a divergence: there is no easy reconciliation between concepts of what is noble, and more importantly, no reconciliation between the noble simply and the needs of one’s country. There is just a “common affliction,” and that’s the only thing that binds. Piety can diverge for each of us when we express our hopes; the “common good” is the task of politics. It is piety as tragic that unites us.

A Proclamation.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the Unites States the Eighty-eighth.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln

Comment:

“Fruitful fields” and “healthful skies” seem to contrast gravely with the people of the nation itself in 1863; recall this was in the same year as Gettysburg, where casualties numbered 60,000 in three days. Our children may be dying, we ourselves may be ill, but the land of the country itself is bountiful. The bounties of the land are “constantly enjoyed;” they do not provoke thought. If one thinks, one finds “others” of “so extraordinary a nature”  that one must become sensible to the Providence of Almighty God. “Extraordinary” usually means beyond what is political, what is beyond human means. In the midst of a civil war, what God seems to have extraordinarily given is the promise of the ordinary. One would not expect “peace” to be preserved with other nations as other nations are opportunists, yet there has been peace of that sort. There is order, law and harmony even; independent of the war itself (and some draft riots), people aren’t forming factions and backstabbing each other for the most meager gain. Not only are foreign nations opportunists, but so are individuals, and a civil war has more than once been an opportunity for tyrants.

Moreover, while the war is horrible, its “theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union.” People aren’t just obedient and willing, they’re resolved. To that end, even in the midst of a horrific war, industry and commerce are thriving because people are doing their best: “needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded more abundantly than heretofore.” One could be ungenerous and look at this as some kind of cold sentiment derived from something like the “Protestant work ethic,” but note that those in rebellion enslave people. The point is more that a quiet virtue attends freedom, and that virtue sacrifices continually to make blessings for others. “Industry” and “enlarging one’s settlements” aren’t necessarily limited to financial capital; the center of Lincoln’s list is “ship,” recalling the Mayflower.

It is from that more refined sentiment that Lincoln can say “population has steadily increased” and not be insensitive to the war dead. They’re allowing people to live; the population of the whole country “is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.” The “augmented strength and vigor” that the country feels does not come from military victories alone, but from the fact that our way of life can produce for the sake of peace.

Lincoln has taken three things – awareness of blessings, the faith and resolve of the American people, and the willingness to work as well as one can – and used them to argue there is a Providential/moral order we can trust keeping the Union afloat. No amount of wisdom on the Founders’ part could stop people from turning to the worst of tyrants during a civil war, or despairing and quitting in their ordinary toil as they see and read about death all around. One could say that Lincoln is praising the character of the American people very highly, and I think that is happening (character is not a product of “human counsel” or a “mortal hand” alone). The reason why he turns to a discussion of “anger for our sins” and recommends not only thanks for “singular deliverances and blessings,” but also “humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience” is that virtuous people do not need flattery, especially when they are aware of the horror they are enduring. What they need to know: 1) their cause is right and just (the silent contrast between the labors of those fighting for Union and those who are partial to slavery) 2) their virtues are employed correctly (they’re not only fighting the war, but leading their normal lives, creating the ground for genuine peace – note “tranquility” in the last list Lincoln gives, and what it stands in place of given the order of the rest of the Proclamation) 3) their efforts are not in vain, that there will be healing (the appeal to the Almighty).

- Abraham Lincoln, from “Cooper Union Speech”

A few links for your consideration:

The only known photograph of Lincoln at Gettysburg the day of the address, courtesy of the Library of Congress (if that link doesn’t work, try this)

This blog hasn’t covered as much of Lincoln’s writings as I would like, but there’s a copy and analysis of the Gettysburg Address you may want to look at. There’s also an analysis of the Second Inaugural; Glen Thurow argues that the Address and the Second Inaugural have to be considered together.

A fragment of a speech describing the Republican Party is a short read, and should be of tremendous interest to all partisans today.

Other things by Lincoln you may want to look at, not covered by this blog (or only indirectly): Lyceum Speech, Temperance Speech, House Divided, Cooper Union.

Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation is interesting reading: it is very difficult to conceive how anyone in the US could have been in a celebrating mood in 1863. The question is, what is the relation between Providence and the nation? He openly says the nation is being punished for its “sins.” The goods in the first paragraph which seem pettier, i.e. border expansion, population increase, seem to point to the hope for “peace, harmony, tranquility, and Union” mentioned near the end. I suspect a call to a higher notion of justice is implicit in the proclamation, which is post-Gettysburg, post-Emancipation Proclamation: the domestic production, the fact life is going on in the Union despite the Civil War, divorces this country from martial virtue and its attendant notions. “Sins” indicates a still greater concern.

Upon those men who are, in sentiment, opposed to the spread, and nationalization of slavery, rests the task of preventing it. The Republican organization is the embodiment of that sentiment; though, as yet, it by no means embraces all the individuals holding that sentiment. The party is newly formed; and in forming, old party ties had to be broken, and the attractions of party pride, and influential leaders were wholly wanting. In spite of old differences, prejudices, and animosities, it’s [sic] members were drawn together by a paramount common danger. They formed and maneuvered in the face of the deciplined [sic] enemy, and in the teeth of all his persistent misrepresentations. Of course, they fell far short of gathering in all of their own. And yet, a year ago, they stood up, an army over thirteen hundred thousand strong. That army is, to-day, the best hope of the nation, and of the world. Their work is before them; and from which they may not guiltlessly turn away.

1. Over at Real Clear Politics, Jay Cost argues this election isn’t a “realignment” because there wasn’t an issue (slavery, the gold standard, the welfare state) that transformed the electoral landscape.

I don’t think “realignment” is the right term for what we’ve witnessed. My own thought is that the culture wars being so one-sided resulted in what we saw this election, and more importantly, the tantrum from the eventual victor that existed for 8 years before. There really are two Americas: modern, secular, progressive-radical America is not an aberration that took over some professorships in the 60′s and founded an ice cream company or two later. The elites have succeeded in creating far more like them in values, if not ability. What they want is for this country to embrace European social democracy.

What we have seen is the emergence of a voting bloc that is not partial to conservatism at all. The Democratic party doesn’t need to cater to the South or fiscal conservatism in any way anymore. Everyone knew – or should have known – that then Senator Obama’s numbers regarding his plans were a bit fuzzy. I say “emergence” because these voters are not at the peak of their power yet: more time will inevitably result in gains for them, as near complete control of the educational system is theirs.

2. Perhaps the reason why this isn’t a “realignment,” though, is because of the incredible amount on the line with issues such as slavery, industry and government relief in a Depression. Not just necessity but the question of “what is justice” were being considered at those times. Each “realignment,” quite obviously, reduced to the issue of equality – what is just is sharing freedom, opportunity or wealth as opposed to aggrandizement by one or the other party.

Right now, while the Left preaches social justice, we know the incredible materialism that underlies these claims. “Social justice” isn’t justice – all of us know this. It’s an attempt to overturn more established values for the sake of greater comforts by uniting some of the discontented. To some degree, this is acceptable – we can do things that are seemingly harmless, so why not? But the greatest comfort is feeling good about being moral, and “social justice” allows for people to have this feeling without actually being moral. All you need to do is blame everyone else for everything. The dangers are sequential – a politics dominated by (messianic) celebrity, complete with the rule of gossip over policy; the emergence of conspiracy theory and paranoia as mass movements; finally, overt violence against others based on perception. There are certain European nations that may be the prime example of degenerate politics (they also might not be: this is not as obvious a sort of judgment as it seems): they seem to think they’re better than everyone else even though they can’t defend their own leaders or citizens; they can’t even prevent the rise of actual fascists among themselves, despite calling everyone they disagree with a fascist.

3. The moral issue we face is very large, but not as large as the quite obvious and unacceptable attempt to spread slavery. I think, at best, we’re flirting with the first stage of degeneracy, and not even that. Only the mainstream media and a few loud, obnoxious idiots think Obama is the Messiah. But it’s dangerous because of what it means for the office of the Presidency, not because there was dancing in the streets election night. People have the right to celebrate what they think is progress, and certainly, this election was unthinkable 50 years ago. We can all celebrate the more fundamental progress that allowed it to happen.

The work that needs to be done is still that of unity: Lincoln’s first evaluation of the Republicans is the correct one. To that end, whining about social conservatives (see here) being a detriment to the party is babyish and stupid. I am not going to tell people who are disproportionately fighting for our freedom – 40% of the Armed Forces says they are evangelical, but knowing evangelicals, that number is undoubtedly higher – that they can take a hike. They actually value something more than their own wallets or security or winning elections – imagine that.

Moreover, continuing Bush-bashing, as is being done here, is even dumber. The pundit class – Brooks, Frum, Goldberg, O’Rourke and many others – is very problematic right now, but that’s because they never believed in education. They hold that conservatism is obvious, as if a change in media alone will make people wake up. Education serves media for them, not the other way around: “Liberal Fascism” was written so you would approach the news better.

To me, we have the conservative/alternative media we need already. Changing minds is going to take time, but we need to start in earnest, not just to win. We can reasonably expect a lot from partisanship, after all: once upon a time, it helped destroy slavery.

The Lincoln Memorial stands tall, as if out of reach. Wikipedia notes that the columns are Doric but doesn’t talk about the frontal access to the temple that Bill mentioned, nor the incredible height of this thing. The elements are Greek, Etruscan, Roman it seems (again, thank you Bill) – I’m not sure about this, I’d like someone to clarify.

When you get inside, you face Lincoln, who is staring out beyond you at the reflecting pool, which reflects the monument of the man he said we should worship in Lyceum. To his right (your left) is the Gettysburg Address, with a mural atop it. To his left is the Second Inaugural with a mural atop it. The murals are Egyptian in style, like the paintings inside the pyramids: they’re even made out of the same materials (a park ranger told me this. Encarta says the murals are oil on canvas. Another park ranger – I swear to God – told me that yes, indeed, the Memorial was “symbolic” when I asked specifically about Lincoln’s hands. I cannot repeat the language that I was screaming in my head here).

It is probably a good working assumption to say the words, the history (murals), and the man all are comments on the same theme.

Lincoln’s right hand being open and his stepping forward with his right foot probably are some kind of comment on Gettysburg. What could be characteristic of Gettysburg is the void after the carnage, the “formal feeling” “after great pain.” The only proper response would be to declare a “new birth of freedom:” nothing else could possibly be appropriate for the “honored dead,” nothing could come close to an honor they would want.

It remains for us to interpret the mural above the Gettysburg address. I have some complaints with this brochure the Park Service hands out as explanatory (warning: .pdf) – I really want to see them cite stuff, instead of just making assertions. I’m still going to write as if they know what they’re talking about, because I’ve been sitting on this project too long already.

There is an angel in the center of the Gettysburg Address mural, raising hands and causing shackles to drop. I am convinced the angel is different from the seated figures in the extreme left and right groups, inasmuch as they are crowned with laurels, and the angel needs no such crowning being a heavenly messenger.

The group all the way to the left of the Gettysburg Address mural represents justice. The seated figure has the sword of justice and a scroll, and is flanked by bodyguards. People are kneeling in front of the figure. The brochure says that both the central group and this group have two sibyls each. It makes sense why a divine group should have sibyls, but justice is earthly, wearing the crown of victory. What could those sibyls prophecy?

The group all the way to the right, as deep into the temple as one can go, is supposed to be immortality. But what is immortal? The seated figure is wearing a crown, and surrounded by the three theological virtues. There are no sibyls here, just a servant giving wine. Oil is in a vessel beside. We note that earlier generations had no problem picking up on Lincoln’s theological language in the Address, and didn’t go rifling through his personal papers to try and argue he was an atheist. It looks like the law and freedom together prophecy something that makes earthly republicanism divine.

The mural above Second Inaugural I have to rely on the brochure even more on: the central group is Unity (duh, there are two people holding hands and arts of various sorts abound), the left group is Fraternity (the abundance of the earth and family life are surrounded by the wine/oil vessels characteristic of immortal republicanism above), and the group to the extreme right is Charity. The interesting thing for all of us, as students of politics, is the emphasis on Unity centrally. We normally say that Fraternity and Charity are means to Unity. In doing so, we tend to forget what we assume when we approach another as a friend – why we make vows when we get married – why we pray even in the silence of our hearts.

Underlying Dr. Thurow’s dedication to the liberal arts is his concern for speech. The devolution of Presidential rhetoric, perhaps starting with the very notion of TR’s “bully pulpit,” much less the theater of the modern State of the Union, demonstrates the problem he confronts fully. The executive is not constructed to speak, but to act. If he speaks, his speech must result in effective action. It is tempting to say that in a country where popular opinion is everything, the President’s power to persuade is his most effective action. Thus, the “bully pulpit,” the televised State of the Union, the press conferences, the Presidential reading lists, the campaign books, etc. etc. are not a product of politics merely trying to give Oprah competition. Rather, the President could be doing his job in being a second-rate media figure.

All one has to do, though, to demolish the argument that the President’s primary power lies in persuasion is focus on what an inability to persuade does to effective action. And we all know the highest things require not merely an enormous amount of persuasion in the speech and deed of others, but practice on our own part.

Dr. Thurow’s work contemplates a time when Presidential rhetoric meant far more than it does today. The irony of the ascent of speech is speech’s success when divorced from considerations of effectiveness. A cursory look at Glen’s work on Lincoln proves this point: it is not clear that “a new birth of freedom” has been achieved in any sense even now. Much of the platform of the Right currently centers on economic libertarianism, much of the Left on moral libertarianism. Equality in our political rhetoric today is for would-be populists advancing narrow, factional interests. If liberty and equality are both of primary concern in this democracy as Lincoln seems to think, we certainly don’t see any evidence of such a balance. Wilmoore Kendall, even in attacking Lincoln, notes how “equality” post-Lincoln is mainly an effective term for the advance of sectarian, Progressive agendas.

And yet, in our modern, post-virtue world, it is still hard to deny Lincoln’s speech has something our words today lack. That “something” can be characterized two ways: first, Lincoln has thought about higher things, i.e. how self-government can be preserved, what the relation of succeeding generations to the Founding must be, what precisely are the ills of slavery and where the ultimate remedy for such ills lies. He has thought about these things and recognized their meaningfulness. Secondly, just as importantly, he attempts to convey that meaning through words of his own. The dual simplicity of Lincoln’s speech hides what is crucial: the practical effects of speaking have been almost completely put aside. A truly effective teaching, after all, need not muse on what we ought to value, as Lincoln seems to muse. Lincoln’s speech approaches the theoretical.

It is difficult to conceive of political speech being theoretical in any way. Politics is the realm of action: the best political speech is the exhortation that leads to victory and conquest, whether it is other people or passions or even ignorance being combatted. Inasmuch as a regime educates, using the law to make its people the same sort of citizen, it indulges the thumotic excessively. If politics has anything to do with peace, and if there is an art of peace, then we need to see political speech as part of something higher.

In a free country cognizant of equality it is also difficult to speak of the noble, but it is there by nature, hidden within the concept of merit. If one splits “merit” into its components, “having a particular excellence” on the one hand, and “the outcome of that excellence” on the other, one sees the noble and the virtuous directly. No longer does the vulgar conception of virtue being good only inasmuch it is useful dominate: one can plainly see outcomes are always a matter of Fortune.

It goes without saying that Lincoln confronted the vulgarity of “merit” directly: if the South won the Civil War, would that have made slavery right? Is the North’s winning the war, then, what makes slavery wrong? In the Second Inaugural, the question is that of the rationality of the general will and Providence: if neither North nor South understand why Union matters, can this be a blessed order in any sense? The North had the will to fight when fired upon, but all of American history from 1820-1860 could be said to be capitulation to slaveholders that resulted in their emboldening. As both North and South have failed to understand justice, an understanding of the divine is critical: the human realm has failed to provide solutions to a problem it caused.

Wrestling with the divine occurs publicly for Lincoln, and in speech. It is strange to conceive of speech as “becoming,” but we note well that dialectic is where being and becoming meet: not-being, states of affairs that aren’t, are attributes eliminated progressively. But dialectic is not political speech. Political speech must reach all, even if it cannot engage all fully. Hence the grappling with the divine ends up a pleading with the divine: we worship the Creator because He treats others justly, with equanimity and charity, and we hope for His protection as we pledge to pursue those things.

It is not clear if divinity is prior to speech or speech prior to divinity. The problem is contained in the very word “logos” as it has come down to us: it is the height of Christian thought, it is also central to texts that question Revelation of any sort severely in pursuit of the well-ordered soul. We can try to say that what we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence. Maybe there are things that can only be shown, and that is where the highest resides. But to make that move would be to admit that speech is of the highest priority: only where it breaks down are we filled with awe or terror, and the moments where it breaks down are Revelatory: it is not clear any of us will certainly have that mystical experience.

What is clear is that speech and divinity are fundamental to each other. The dignity of man resides in his being a social, talking, political, learning, rational animal. If we need to plead with God or show gratitude to Him, we need to speak in some way, perhaps with words, perhaps not. An age that goes out of its way to marginalize speech, as ours does, attacks our ability to approach divinity. We are constantly reminded of immigrants who speak no English and care not for Constitutional form, but who have math and science backgrounds and work hard and therefore are essential to our well-being. Lest I be accused of nativism, let me make it clear where this valuation comes from: there are many people in this room who could care less if their kids could read and write properly. All that matters is their kids are productive in technical capacities, or simply well-off. What immigrants or our own children think is not terribly important to us, that they are useful is primary.

It is true other ages emphasized the practical, but this is ridiculous. Our inability to articulate value has resulted in whether we want to clone ourselves without brains so we can harvest the organs of the clone later being a serious question. The divine is all but gone: if God condescended to listen to Abraham and bless him, we surely will make no such condescension to God. We cannot even treat each other as equals, after all, or work to raise each other up. Our charity is tied to our power and effectiveness in the world; our humility is standing above others with a higher power in the next life. Our meaningless speech, ironically enough, is purposeful. We get to construct meaning however we want, and construction guided by no principle results in the interest of the stronger being right.

What the liberal arts do is give us speech that has meaning. Perhaps the divine is prior to speech, but we will never know it if speech is so devalued: words must be heard and carefully considered in order for a human appreciation of the divine to be possible.

To bring us back to the problem that started these remarks, that of whether we can possibly transcend our own impressions of another’s deepest concern, I will say this: we can, by talking to each other and listening, find out what each other’s deepest concern is. If you think of that as too cloying to be a serious argument, I will offer something even more cloying to suggest what is at stake in the liberal arts, what is at stake in finding ways for us to value each other and not merely exert control over this world or the next. Milton wonders about what St. Paul means when he says Christ shall be all in all, and concludes that maybe, at the end of time, God will dissolve into each of us. There won’t be any need for a higher power alienated in some way from us if we are all godly, each to another.

It goes without saying that an introduction to what Lincoln’s deeper meaning is, the problem of speech and action in political life, and the question of what a proper conception of divinity is all stem from Glen Thurow’s thought. He is more than aware of what is at stake, and it is something all of us, hallowed and consecrated though we may be, to which we should ourselves dedicate.