Pragmatism, past and present

But I also warned in that piece of pragmatism’s dark side. Political opportunists invariably exploit people’s ignorance and anxieties for personal or partisan gain. To constrain such “unprincipled pragmatists,” the framers of our constitution separated governmental powers into three branches and devised a complex network of checks and balances. While effectively restraining tyranny (thus far), this cumbersome system constrains all presidential pragmatism — be it principled or otherwise.

Consider the presidency of Thomas Jefferson. As leader of the first opposition party to defeat a sitting president, the cerebral Jefferson entered office ideologically opposed to almost every facet of the vision and policies of his Hamiltonian-Federalist predecessors, George Washington and John Adams.

To the surprise of many and approval of subsequent observers, Jefferson’s conciliatory inaugural address pragmatically set a precedent for a peaceful transfer of power. More importantly, his retention of some effective Federalist officials and policies drew from the clearly pragmatic impulse “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Most notably in 1803, Jefferson abandoned his long-held commitment to strict interpretation of the Constitution in order to take advantage of a real estate deal with France that doubled the size of the nation. To be sure, lands from the Louisiana Purchase advanced Jefferson’s ideal of a farmer’s republic. But control of the Mississippi River and New Orleans also furthered his adversary’s goals.

Voters clearly approved of Jefferson’s pragmatism and re-elected him by a landslide 1804. Overall, most historians ever since have agreed and concluded that the Louisiana Purchase benefitted the nation and served the public good. Should we then assume that all pragmatism — and more specifically Mr. Trump’s recent pragmatic turn on abortion — is commendable?

Unintended consequences years after the Louisiana purchase caution against such simple assumptions. And yes, Mr. Trump’s newly proclaimed commitment to state primacy in addressing abortion echoes one of the most consequential developments on our ill-fated road to civil war.

A notable and intentional omission from our constitution allowed states to define property rights and hence the legality of slavery. Conveniently, a balance of slave and free states minimized divisive conflict that might have killed the infant republic. Fortuitously, for most of the next four decades new free and slave states were admitted in pairs, and relative harmony continued.

Conflict, however, re-surfaced briefly in 1820 when Missouri (a territory carved from greater Louisiana) applied to enter the union as a slave state. With the nation in the midst of an economic panic, free state representatives protested Missouri’s admission. However, slavery at the time was primarily an economic and political rather than moral issue. This allowed Henry Clay to take advantage of opportune timing to negotiate the Missouri compromise that lasted another 30 years.

Only after the nation expanded to the Pacific in the 1840s did the issue reappear. By then slavery had become for fringe northerners and southerners a moral, less-negotiable issue. In 1854, complicated partisan political matters and personal ambition led Illinois Senator Stephen Douglas, the ultimate pragmatist, to call for the admission of Kansas as a state. The earlier Missouri Compromise had closed Kansas territory to slavery. Hence, the question of Kansas statehood reignited the sectional — slavery debate.

Douglas called his remedy “popular sovereignty.” Much like Trump’s latest approach to abortion, it allowed states (more precisely Kansas) to decide whether they/it would be free or slave. In Douglas’s calculating mind, this was only appropriate in a nation that had become much more democratic since the Founder’s days.

However, with balance of power in the House of Representatives and the future of slavery at stake, “free elections” in Kansas led both sides to illegally devise schemes to assure their victory. When anti-slavery zealot John Brown violently attacked pro-slavery forces, blood was spilt.

“Bleeding Kansas,” many future historians would surmise, was “the first battle of the Civil War.” More certainly, the election of Abraham Lincoln six years later led to secession, formation of the Confederacy, and Lincoln’s decision to defend Fort Sumter. Four years of bloody war followed. Either way democracy proved inadequate to resolve complex controversies.

What messages might Thomas Jefferson’s and Stephen Douglas’s pragmatic actions convey to us in 2024? To be sure, history is not exactly repeating itself. I will address that more fully in a subsequent column. But for now, it is appropriate to consider pragmatism’s countervailing sides.

This is an opinion column, and few of you will be surprised that Mr. Trump’s long track record and the very nature of the abortion debate convince me that his motives are unprincipled — i.e. not in the public interest — and his approach to this controversial issue cynical.

But we are a free society. I respect the right of others to disagree and welcome opposing responses. Our yet undecided fellow citizens who will most likely determine the results of this unprecedented election might benefit from our constructive discourse. Stay tuned!