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Reading this 1791 letter from Benjamin Banneker, the son of a former slave, to Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson makes me understand Jefferson better.  How could someone who penned the lines Banneker quoted and who received the letter Banneker wrote not be, as Jefferson’s enemy Hamilton kindly put it, “a man of sublimated and paradoxical imagination”?

Santorum vs. Paul: Lincoln vs. Douglas?

During last night’s CNN-sponsored Republican presidential debate in South Carolina, Newt Gingrich alluded longingly, as he often does, to the Lincoln-Douglas debates. “I’d be quite happy to have a three-hour, Lincoln-Douglas-style debate with Barack Obama. I’d let him use a teleprompter. I’ll just rely on knowledge. We’ll do fine.”

Gingrich chafes under the modern debate format’s time constraints – not the aggregate time constraints: last night’s two-hour debate wasn’t that much shorter than the ones Lincoln and Douglas agreed to – but the time each candidate has to lay out his position before the next one speaks.

Little I’ve heard from Gingrich, though, suggests that he wishes to debate anything like the fundamental issues Lincoln and Douglas debated on seven occasions across Illinois in 1858. He just wants the uninterrupted 30-, 60-, and 90-minute time blocks the debaters enjoyed back then. (Lincoln and Douglas didn’t use moderators, either, and Gingrich always reserves his greatest invective for whoever’s unlucky enough to moderate the debates he participates in.)

Oddly, though, in the final minutes of last night’s debate, two of the candidates began to address an issue central to Lincoln – Douglas: what active role does the Declaration of Independence play in interpreting the Constitution and defining our federalism?

All four candidates were defending their pro-life bona fides.  Two of them – Rick Santorum and Ron Paul – began to draw distinctions between their views on how the right to abortion should end.  Short as the exchange was, it sketched out Lincoln’s and Douglas’s different approaches to the South’s right to slavery.

Paul wants to return abortion to a pre-Roe vs. Wade condition.  That is, he sees abortion as an act of violence and groups it with other acts of violence, such as murder, that the states have traditionally regulated through criminal codes and common law.

Santorum, on the other hand, believes that abortion is a federal and not a state issue.  Looking on his web site this morning, I found his list of a number of bills he sponsored or supported as a United States Senator that limited, or would have limited, abortion rights.

As I understand him, Santorum seeks not to simply overturn Roe v. Wade, which would leave the states free again to choose between criminalizing abortion or not. He seeks to outlaw abortion on a federal level as inconsistent with the Constitution as informed by the Declaration of Independence.

Here’s the actual exchange from this morning’s Chicago Sun-Times transcript:

MR. SANTORUM: Congressman Paul has a National Right to Life voting record of 50 percent, which is pretty much what Harry Reid’s National Right to Life voting record is. So for — to go out and say that, you know, you’re someone who stands up for the right to life, you repeatedly vote against bills on a federal level to promote the right to life, and you say that this is an individual personal decision or state decision. Life should be protected, and you should have the willingness to stand up on a federal level and any level of government and protect what our — excuse me — what our declaration protects, which is the right of our Creator to life, and that is a federal issue, not a state issue. (Applause.)

MR. KING: Quickly, sir.

REP. PAUL: Well, just — just for the record, I wasn’t even thinking about you when I was giving my statement.

MR. SANTORUM: (Off mic.)

REP. PAUL: So you are overly sensitive. (Laughter, cheers, applause.)

But it — but it is true that we have a disagreement on how we approach it. I follow what my understanding is of the Constitution, and it — it does allow for the states to deal with difficult problems. As a matter of fact, it allows the states to deal with almost all the problems, if you look at it. It is not given — these powers aren’t given to the Congress.

I see abortion as a violent act. All other violence is handled by the states: murder, burglary, violence. That’s a state issue. (Cheers, applause.) So don’t try to say that I’m less pro-life because I want to be particular about the way we do it and allow the states the prerogative.

This is the solution. This is the solution, because if we would allow the states to write their laws, take away the jurisdiction by a majority vote in the Congress, you repeal Roe versus Wade overnight instead of waiting year after year to change the court system. (Cheers, applause.)

Two things to note in Santorum’s remarks.  First, he deliberately corrected himself when he started to describe an unborn child’s right to life as something our Constitution protects.  He settled instead on describing it as something our Declaration of Independence protects.  He therefore seems to stand with Lincoln, who saw the Declaration of Independence as the soul of the Constitution.  (Lincoln, of course, never addressed abortion, but Santorum’s approach seems to model Lincoln’s from a Constitutional standpoint.) Lincoln went so far as to say that the Constitution’s primary mission was to protect the self-evident truths in the Declaration.

Lincoln’s penchant for reading the Constitution as a mix of ideals and political compromises and for using the Declaration to distinguish between the two was the backbone of his position in the debates.  Slavery could not be extended to the territories because the Constitution’s compromise with slavery should be strictly construed. Lincoln, therefore, saw slavery’s existence as solely a federal issue.

Douglas saw slavery as a state issue.  His doctrine of popular sovereignty, which had been embedded into the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, would permit each territory to decide whether to permit slavery within its borders. Commensurate with his position, Douglas did not read the Declaration has having any bearing on the slavery issue.

The second significant point from Santorum’s remarks is this: Santorum not only described abortion as a federal issue, but he also specifically stated that it was not a state issue.  I doubt the ramifications of that statement sunk deeply into the ears of the debate’s audience. Santorum wants to in some manner make abortion illegal on a federal and Constitutional level.  Apparently, under Santorum’s formulation, states would have as much ability to make abortion legal as they now have to make slavery legal under the Thirteenth Amendment. (And read Paul’s brief defense of a limited role of the federal government under our Constitution in his response to Santorum.  It’s almost precisely Douglas’s position concerning the federal government and slavery.)

If Santorum’s argument (as I understand it) advances, think how it may shape our view of federalism and state’s rights.  Would abortion rights advocates become our next generation of states rights advocates? Would the pro-life advocates split over the issue of federalism? (Santorum, interestingly, got “applause.” Paul got “cheers, applause.”)

I don’t think Roe v. Wade will survive another forty years. The way the right to abortion ends, though, is important to our federalism, and perhaps echoes of that larger, future debate may reach back to last night in South Carolina, as brief and as halting as the exchange about it was.

The Gettysburg Address: Lincoln’s selective history

1.  This comment specifically pertains to the text “Now we are engaged” at the beginning of the Gettysburg Address’s second paragraph, and it generally pertains to the text of the first paragraph as well as to the text in the second paragraph’s first sentence.

2.  My comment addresses Lincoln’s rhetorical strategy of invoking history in a seemingly objective but ultimately selective fashion.  Lincoln’s address starts off as a chronology, and, indeed, through the first two paragraphs he puts the events in chronological order.  But he’s very selective about what events are included: the signing of the Declaration of Independence (“the Declaration”), the Civil War, the Battle of Gettysburg, and the dedication of the Gettysburg Battlefield.  My comment particularly concerns the first two events: the signing of the Declaration of Independence and the Civil War.

3.  Lincoln obscures how selective he is by three means.  First, his address is very short, so he can’t be expected to put the country’s entire history in it.  Second, he ties the events together rhetorically.  He relates the Civil War to the Declaration’s signing by introducing the war in the address as the means of testing whether the nation conceived, birthed, and dedicated at the signing can last.  He achieves this by defining the war in terms of the Declaration.   The nation defended is “so conceived and so dedicated.” Third, he puts the Declaration and the Civil War in a life-cycle metaphor that extends over the entire address and parallels that life implicitly with Jesus’ life.  The Gospel of Luke, which Lincoln alludes to in the first paragraph, moves from Jesus’ birth and childhood to his three-year ministry while leaving out everything in between.  Similarly, Lincoln moves from our nation’s conception, birth, and dedication to its by-then three-year-old Civil War the same way.  “. . .  brought forth . . . conceived in liberty, and dedicated . . . Now we are engaged . . .” Nothing is said of the Constitution or of any event from 1776 to 1861.  If one questions Lincoln’s selective history, Lincoln seems to suggest, one might as well question Luke’s.

4.  By recounting our nation’s history through limiting it only the Declaration and the Civil War, Lincoln clarifies by simplifying.  He simplifies our history to emphasize what he sees as riding on the Civil War’s outcome – the existence of a nation, or any nation, founded on the Declaration’s principles.  The simplification also serves to reinforce Lincoln’s belief that the nation came into being at the Declaration’s signing.  This position was important for Lincoln for two reasons.  First, it gave the propositions in the Declaration – particularly that all men are created equal – outsize influence in reading the Constitution.  Second, it reinforced his belief that the people, not the states, created the United States.  If states created the United States, then it would boost the South’s case that individuals have no inherent rights but only those rights that a government recognizes as due to a segment of its population.

The right to call someplace home

A federal trial court judge’s clerk usually handles the prisoner petitions.  When I clerked, I would read the petitions, research them, and write an order for my judge to sign deciding the case.  Most of the research was in constitutional law because prison administrators have a lot of leeway in running their prisons with only their prisoners’ constitutional rights circumscribing their policies.

One day my judge refused to sign one of my drafts.  The inmate in question had petitioned the court for damages after debris had allegedly hit him in the head and injured him on a work site.  The prison administration was at fault, he said, because it hadn’t issued him a hard hat.  My order would have permitted the case to proceed to a hearing.

My judge smiled. “There’s no constitutional right to a hard hat,” he said.

One of my students earlier this month came up with a new inalienable right.  When I asked the class what rights he would add to (or specifically enumerate in) the Declaration of Independence or the U.S. Constitution, he included “the right to call someplace home.”

Consider the virtues of a right to call someplace home.  It’s vague, like due process or equal protection.  Everyone can pay it lip service.  A faction could read it as requiring the government to find housing for everyone.  Another faction could hold “English only” legislation unconstitutional since it infringes on a penumbral right to speak only the language of an immigrant’s homeland.  Others could weaken it, or perhaps use it in a way my student may not have intended, by discovering in it only the right to call the United States home, first holding that the government decides what “someplace” is for everyone.  Some may find the right only aspirational: we are a rather nomadic people as well as a melting pot, and perhaps we feel the need for place more acutely for our relative rootlessness.  And some may find it merely tautological.  After all, calling someplace home sounds quintessentially unalienable.

Anyway, it’s a step up from a constitutional amendment delineating the right to a hard hat.

The Union cause

Regional pride doesn’t make one side wish to re-prosecute the Civil War; philosophy does.  States’ rights in their politics and strict constructionist in their jurisprudence, Confederate apologists are apt to see the war’s sesquicentennial as a gift – as a megaphone for their argument in favor of a federalism based on the states’, and not the people’s, consent.

The Union side will not be as vocal.  The Unionists’ near-silence will not come from a victor’s apathy; indeed, Lincoln found the Union cause just as unarticulated as we find it today.  Slavery – the sole cause of the war – was argued vociferously by abolitionists and slaveholders alike, but Lincoln made clear that the North wasn’t fighting to free the slaves. Lincoln felt at all times that the Union cause would advance emancipation, but he never believed that the North was fighting to accomplish emancipation, as much as he favored it. The North fought to preserve the Union.

In this week’s New Yorker, Adam Gopnick reports on the results of a recent poll demonstrating New Yorkers’ ignorance about the Union statues and memorials in their midst.  He argues that the ignorance is indicative of the misconceptions over the war’s cause and aims perpetuated, at least in the first instance, by Confederate sympathizers.

While accurate in other respects, Gopnick’s The Talk of the Town essay implies that the Union cause did not long precede the Civil War.  “And Union Square is confidently identified [by those polled] as being named for the Union cause when in fact its name long predates the war.”

The Union cause, like the Confederacy’s, was based on a philosophical argument.  The Union cause is the cause of self-government, as Lincoln rightly pointed out in his Gettysburg Address and as Hamilton rightly pointed out threescore-and-some-odd years earlier in his preface to the Federalist.  Can a people govern themselves? Calhoun, who provided the philosophical framework for the South’s secessionist movement, thought mankind in general was too benighted to be trusted with government.  People weren’t born with rights, Calhoun believed; a race or nationality of people had to earn the right to govern themselves.  Madison’s view of man, on the other hand, while it was as dark as Dostoevsky’s, was based also on a hope as bright as Dostoevsky’s – a hope springing from natural law’s notion of the divine mark on, or spark in, human nature.

The Union cause is based neither on strict adherence to the Constitution’s base compromises, which is the heart of today’s strict constructionism, nor on a rejection of the Constitution as a racist document, which is the heart of today’s “living constitution.”  The Union cause was based on the values of the Declaration protected by the Constitution – Lincoln’s “apples of gold in pictures of silver.”  The Union cause was the spread of liberty and self-government.  Gopnick correctly points out that “The world saw the Union cause as a promissory note, to use Dr. King’s image, of a republican movement yet to be fully cashed.”

Would that the Union cause would be advanced with as much voice and interest as that employed by the states’ rights advocates this sesquicentennial.  It isn’t likely, but Gopnick’s thoughtful and inspiring essay this week is a start.