What Kind Of A Republic?

Edward J. Dodson

[An unpublished essay written in 1999]

At the closing of the convention from which the constitution of the united states emerged, Benjamin Franklin was stopped in the street and asked what kind of government was to be formed. "A republic, if you can keep it," was his reported reply. Knowing he had only a few years, at most, left in his own life, Franklin put his hand to the document and hoped for the best. He felt that the proposed framework compromised crucial philosophical principles but hoped future generations would have the wisdom and time to resolve these contradictions. Two hundred years later we continue to struggle with the same dilemma. Our two main political parties dominate the center of socio-political thought. Within these parties and without there are factions pushing one brand of intolerance or another. Yes, we still have a Republic; the question of what kind of Republic and to what extent its foundation is built on just principles is unresolved.

As we all experience in our personal lives, there are opportunities aplenty to sacrifice principle on the basis of some expediency or another. Back in 1965 when I graduated from high school, for example, life presented me with the challenge of adhering to principles as yet poorly developed or of following the directives of the individuals and institutions of authority affecting my life. War was being waged in Southeast Asia, and a few of my high school friends were leaving for the military. Most were enrolling in college. Growing up in a household headed by an ex-Marine sergeant, I had a sense of what military life might be like, instinctively doubted the wisdom of our government's foreign policy and looked to the experience of college as a necessary path to true adulthood.

For two years college provided a reprieve, a time to extend adolescence while developing a degree of self-sufficiency. Then, something extraordinary happened. People I went to high school with started coming back from their tour of duty, and alot of them talked about the strangeness of the war, the wasteful use of American lives and the corruption of the government in South Vietnam. More than a few became active in the then fledgling anti-war movement; and, I started to pay more attention to the war, listening more intently to those who were raising troubling questions about our real motives. What struck me most was when some of our ex-soldiers sent their medals back to the government.

My emotional disenchantment with the war gradually grew into activism as the details of our recent history came to light. The literature of the late 1960s was becoming bolder in its denunciation of American foreign policy. By 1968 or 1969 the evidence presented convinced me that our political leaders had hid behind the anti-communism banner while imposing a new neo-colonialism on people barely free of European colonialism. The Vietnamese were engaged in a civil war, and American taxpayers and American soldiers were there defending an oppressive puppet regime left behind by the departed French. South Vietnam turned out to be another case where our national interest was invoked to ensure multi-national corporations access to cheap labor and cheap natural resources; corporate executives were playing the game of monopoly at the expense of propertyless people in country after country. And our political leaders seemed amazed at the number of insurrections directed at the oligarchies and dictatorships serving the interests of the monopolists. A level of distrust settled in, and I awakened to the real lessons of history, socio-political arrangements that continue to predominate in our world today.

Vietnam and the social activism of the late 1960s left marks on many of us who became adults in that period. Marriages and children, as well as the responsibilities of everyday life, have softened or eliminated the hard edge of a period defined by a mere handful of years. I remember the audience cheers and feeling of exhaltation when, at the end of the film All The President's Men, Richard Nixon resigned in disgrace. I felt cleansed of a heavy sense of foreboding, as Nixon's fall satisfied my need for a symbol that our national period of insanity was ending. And yet, nothing fundamental had changed. The immediate causes of dissent were gone but the structure of power that had allowed individuals to subvert our liberties and the protections of the constitution remained. I learned that we were still very much under the rule of men and not primarily the rule of principle.

I came through that brief period convinced that the future would be secure only if the people of our society declared war on the entrenched establishment. Not a war carried out by true believers anxious to become martyrs for their cause; rather, a war against myth and hypocracy carried on in whatever manner was made available to reach the thoughtful among us. This challenge has taken me into the classroom as student and teacher, and brought me to set aside an artist's brush in favor of, first, a typewriter, and now, a computer keyboard. Changing the thinking of others is not a task for the faint of heart, as many of us know who feel the need to make the attempt. What is certain, however, is that the only path to the truth is through constant examination and open discussion. Voices in the wilderness, hammering away at conventional wisdom and untested declarations, stand between what individual liberty we yet retain and the incremental tyranny the State imposes.

More often than not, and despite a career in the corporate sector that demands conformity, I have known the sensation of being one of the voices in the wilderness. The socio-political philosophy I have come to is neither wholly individualist nor collectivist. At one point, after discovering the works of Henry George and coming into contact with those who have accepted him as their moral champion (and for whom I have great affection), I felt more secure in the wilderness than ever before. I even wrote an essay, "From Samuelson To George, A Galbraithian By-Pass," describing the evolution in my thinking on matters economic. It was not long before I learned that even Georgists were highly divided over the right and just principles on which a society's (all societies) socio-political arrangements and institutions ought to be built. I retreated to the study of history and returned armed with an outline for a course on Liberty And The Just Society. This year with be the eleventh I have tested my reasoning and discussed with other students the lessons history offers on these most crucial matters.

With the course on liberty, a further challenge arose out of a desire to reach beyond the small groups formed to engage in this dialogue. My passion and -- a fact I must come to terms with -- a missionary zeal started me on a road I hope will raise my voice in the wilderness. And, if what I have to say appeals to the moral sense of others struggling with similar concerns, perhaps beyond the wilderness. My course of action has been to boldly go forth and put my reasoning and conclusions to the test by writing a book explaining and defending Henry George's accepted philosophy, cooperative individualism. After some five years of research, writing, more research, rewriting, rethinking and editing, I have a comprehensive statement prepared for thoughtful consideration.

Do I have anything to impart at this stage of my intellectual journey that speaks to the everyday concerns of people? Yes, I believe so; namely, that all societies suffer from a similar malady manifested in outwardly different socio-political arrangements, mores and institutions. The common denominators are there for us to see. In any society one might care to examine, individual liberty is thwarted, privilege is sanctioned, far too many people are impoverished for this to be of natural causes, wealth and power are everywhere concentrated, and the environment is degraded. Manmade law diverges from moral law in so many fundamental ways in every society that justice and equality of opportunity are immeasurably subverted. This is the lesson of history; it is an observation of our contemporary experience.

It may be unfashionable in an age dominated by benefit/cost analysis, computer models and public policy based on incremental change, but movement in the direction of a truly just society requires that we test manmade law against moral law -- accepting no compromises. The search for universal principles of moral law, which becomes the basis for a human rights doctrine, presents the most important challenge to those who sense the need for fundamental change.