SOURCE: Carey, George W. “Republicanism.” In The Federalist: Design for a Constitutional Republic, pp. 3-27. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1989.

[In the following excerpt, Carey discusses Publius's conception of republicanism, focusing on the problem of factions and Publius's “cure” for overcoming their potential evils.]

To secure the public good and private rights against the danger of [majority factions], and at the same time to preserve the spirit and form of popular government, is then the great object to which our inquiries are directed.

[10:80]

Any number of places in The Federalist could be used as a suitable point of departure for an analysis of Publius's conception of republicanism. The very first essay, aside from being a logical starting point, suits our purposes very well. Here we find listed among the subjects to be covered in the subsequent papers “The conformity of the proposed Constitution to the true principles of republican government” (36). The word true in this context suggests that the proposed Constitution already has been measured against standards of republicanism that were not “true”; or that, at the very least, there were principles of republicanism abroad which were not valid. These suppositions are borne out in the first section of Federalist 39, wherein Publius endeavors to show that the “general form and aspect of the government” does conform with republicanism rightly understood. In the course of this essay, Publius notes that the characteristics and principles of republicanism are not to be derived by examining the governments of those nations and states (Holland, Venice, England, and Poland) which “political writers” are wont to call republics. He observes that there are no principles or elements common to these regimes, a fact which, taken together with their deviations from “genuine” republican principles, he offers as evidence of “the extreme inaccuracy with which the term has been used in political disquisitions” (240-41).

What are these “genuine” principles to which Publius refers? Averting to principles that serve to differentiate forms of government, principally those relating to the derivation and exercise of power, he defines a republican government as one “which derives all its powers directly or indirectly from the great body of the people, and is administered by persons holding their offices during pleasure for a limited period, or during good behavior.” For a government to be truly republican, he holds, “it is essential … that it be derived from the great body of the society, not from an inconsiderable proportion or favored class of it.” “Otherwise,” he remarks, “a handful of tyrannical nobles, exercising their oppressions by a delegation of their powers, might aspire to the rank of republicans and claim for their government the honorable title of republic.” As for the exercise or administration of powers, “it is sufficient” that the officeholders “be appointed, either directly or indirectly, by the people” either for a “limited period, or during good behavior” (241).

What we see from this is that the proposed Constitution fits very nicely into Publius's conception of republicanism—so nicely, in fact, that skeptics might argue, not without reason, that he has formulated or tailored his conception of republicanism to fit the proposed system. Clearly, his discussion does suggest that his formulation of republicanism was conditioned by the constitutional structures and processes of the existing state governments. Be that as it may, Publius is certainly intent on driving home the point that “mixed” regimes which recognize and institutionalize the claims and interests of “favored” classes—e.g., the “hereditary aristocracy and monarchy” in England—simply do not fit into the republican category.¹ This “repudiation” of mixed government is highly significant because, as we have remarked, the major criticisms directed at both Publius and the Founding Fathers have centered on their presumed intention to establish an American equivalent of a mixed regime with an elaborate system of separation of powers that would protect the wealthy and socially privileged from the ravages of majority rule.² We will have occasion to examine this particular misconception in greater detail when we analyze Publius's views on separation of powers. Suffice it to note at this point that any such intention would clearly have contravened what Publius professes to be an “essential” element of republicanism.

Closely related to this matter, we also see that Publius presents us with what can be termed a “laid-back” or “passive” conception of republicanism in marked contrast to the “active” or “positive” conceptions embodied in the strict majoritarian models to which we have referred. Put otherwise, Publius's republicanism does not call for either immediate or direct rule by the people; it is enough, according to Publius, that those who govern are ultimately accountable, directly or indirectly, to the people. In this respect, he seems to believe that if provision is made for the exercise of popular sovereignty in the sense described above, the system will, sooner or later, move in the direction desired by the greater number. Indeed, as we shall see in due course, one fundamental and recurring proposition in Publius's thought is that persistent and determined majorities simply cannot be denied under the forms of the proposed Constitution; that, off at the end, all the institutions, even those indirectly accountable to the people, would follow suit. Aside from the obvious threat of eventual political sanctions or reprisals on officeholders by majorities, we can only speculate about the reasons why he anticipated such responsiveness. High among them would certainly be his conviction that the republican “genius” of the American people would make it difficult, if not impossible, for institutions to block indefinitely the legitimate will of the people.

With Publius's definition of republican government before us, we are prepared to examine other dimensions of his thoughts on republicanism which have, over the decades, generated controversy. Precisely because he was convinced that the system would move, to borrow Locke's phrase, “whither the greater force carries it,” he was concerned to point out how the proposed union under the forms of the Constitution would curb and control the excesses of popular government. A good deal of The Federalist, therefore, is devoted to a pathology of popular self-government, particularly pure democracies and small republics. Publius, that is, did not suffer from the delusion that republican governments, because of their popular foundations, were immune from the arbitrariness, injustice, and disorders that had plagued other forms of government. On the contrary, a central concern that permeates these essays is how to deal with the evils and shortcomings peculiar to republican government—a fact which, as we have remarked, has been construed by some as evidence of Publius's animosity toward popular government and his distrust of the “masses.”

After examining Federalist essays 9 and 10 to see why Publius believed that the proposed system could overcome the fatal shortcomings of previous republics, our attention will turn to questions that have arisen over the adequacy of Publius's solutions. In this regard, we will examine the major charge that has been leveled against Publius, namely, what he views as a remedy for the diseases of republican government involves processes and conditions that render it virtually impossible for majorities, either good or bad, to rule. Such charges, as we will show in the sections that follow, arise from a conception of republicanism foreign to Publius's thought. In our view, only by examining Publius's conception of republicanism in the context of the extended republic proposed by the Constitution can we see clearly the basis for his assertion at the end of Federalist 10 that “In the extent and proper structure of the Union … we behold a republican remedy for the diseases most incident to republican government” (84).

FEDERALIST 9 AND THE NEW AND IMPROVED PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL SCIENCE

The depth, nature, and scope of Publius's concern about the feasiblity of republican government is clearly evidenced at the outset of Federalist 9, an essay which in important particulars sets the stage for the more widely read and highly crucial Tenth Federalist. Here Publius writes that “the history of the petty republics of Greece and Italy” can only evoke “horror and disgust,” plagued as they were by unremitting internal convulsions. He pictures them as having existed “in a state of perpetual vibration between the extremes of tyranny and anarchy.” To be sure, he admits, there were “occasional calms” when “intervals of felicity open[ed] to view,” but these were inevitably swept away by, as he puts it, “tempestuous waves of sedition and party rage.” Indeed, he continues, the record of republics is so bad that if “models of a more perfect structure” had not been devised, “the enlightened friends to liberty would have been obliged to abandon the cause of that species of government [republican] as indefensible” (71-72). The refined models to which he refers are the outgrowth of the “great improvements” he perceives in the “science of politics.” In this vein, he writes of the “efficacy of various principles now well understood, which were either not known at all, or imperfectly known to the ancients,” principles that provide “very powerful means … by which the excellencies of republican government may be retained and its imperfections lessened or avoided” (72-73).

These new and improved principles to which Publius refers would scarcely seem to constitute, as some commentators would have it, a “new political science.”³ To begin with, they do not comprise a coherent and systematic body of interrelated axioms and principles that a term like “new science” normally brings to mind. Rather, two of them relate directly to the separation of powers and its maintenance (“the regular distribution of power into distinct departments; the introduction of legislative balances and checks”), to which a third, “the institution of courts composed of judges holding their offices during good behavior,” is also connected. The fourth principle, “the representation of the people in the legislature by deputies of their own election,” bears more directly upon the republican principle. And the fifth and last principle, “Enlargement of the Orbit,” is not exactly collateral with the previous four since it does not involve constitutional arrangements or provisions (72-73).

Beyond this, neither the principles nor Publius's discussion of them embrace or advance new assumptions or perspectives for the study of politics that would characterize the foundations of a “new political science.” Indeed, at this juncture, we can say that Publius is confronted with a very traditional concern: how to control the excesses of popular governments. And he holds out the prospect that through the proper combination and application of these new and improved principles—the efficacy of which has been revealed through experience, not through deduction or a new science of politics—“the excellencies of republican government may be retained and its imperfections lessened or avoided” (72-73).

As the principles which Publius advances indicate, his concern in Federalist 9 is not confined solely to the matter of republican government. But, in at least two significant ways, Federalist 9 sets the stage for Federalist to and the extended republic theory. First, in discussing the new and improved principles, Publius focuses his attention almost exclusively on how enlargement of the orbit will serve to ameliorate the evils associated with republican government. In so doing, he directly challenges the traditional and accepted wisdom to the effect that republican government is suitable only for a small, homogeneous population within a limited territorial expanse.⁴ His basic line of attack is to argue that the leading authority in support of this proposition, Montesquieu, is not at all unambiguous about this matter, that, in fact, he can be read to support the concept of a “Confederate Republic as the expedient for extending the sphere of popular government and reconciling the advantages of monarchy with those of republicanism” (74). In this regard, Publius stresses the benefits of such a confederation in providing for the common defense of its members, policing relations between them, and quelling insurrections that may arise within any of its members—benefits relative to a range of concerns that are not central to the approach used in Federalist 10 but which, nevertheless, serve to complement and bolster the arguments for the feasibility and desirability of an extended republic. In sum, Federalist 9 begins the process of completely inverting the traditional wisdom with regard to the conditions necessary for republican government. This inversion, in its final form, holds that an orderly, decent, and stable republican regime with the capacity to defend itself against foreign and domestic enemies is possible only over an extensive territory that embraces varied and multiple interests and that, conversely, the small republics incorporating the ideals of traditional theory are destined to vibrate perpetually “between the extremes of tyranny and anarchy” (71).⁵

A second and less obvious way in which Federalist 9 anticipates the extended republic argument that follows can be seen in the high priority accorded liberty. As we have remarked, on his reading of the historical record Publius is willing to concede that there is an apparent incompatibility between republicanism and liberty. Indeed, he leaves little doubt that, if it were not for the fact that the new and improved principles of political science promise a remedy for the evils associated with republicanism, he would abandon it for a “species of government” more hospitable to liberty (72). And, while he does not specify in any detail the constituents of this liberty, we are not without clues as to its essential character. It is a liberty that is not stifled by tyranny, a condition or state of affairs wherein, inter alia, the citizen lives in constant uncertainty and anxiety over how the laws will be interpreted and applied from one day to the next. On the other hand, the liberty to which he refers is clearly not to be found in a condition of anarchy wherein the individual is completely unrestrained by law. In short, what little he does say at this point conforms very well with what is commonly referred to as “ordered liberty.”

FEDERALIST 10 AND THE PROBLEM OF FACTIONS

The foregoing considerations, logically enough, bring us to Federalist 10, whose theoretical richness is attested to not only by the numerous and intensive analyses to which it has been subjected, but also by the variety of interpretations that have emerged which purport to give us a deeper insight into the foundations of our political system and the motives of the Framers. Perhaps, even, the essay has been overburdened in these endeavors. If we place it in context of our preceding discussion, however, we cannot help but view it as a systematic effort to explain why the extensive republic under the proposed Constitution will not suffer the same fatal vibrations as the “petty republics of Greece and Italy.” As such, this particular aspect of Publius's teachings is crucial to his arguments on behalf of the proposed system. To put this another way, the presumed benefits of an extended republic, such as those described in Federalist 9, could only be realized if the internal convolutions associated with popular rule could be avoided or somehow controlled. Failing this, of course, the entire system would soon collapse, either through an incapacity to act in a resolute manner or by a usurpation of powers. But Publius had to go beyond even this concern, as critical as it was, in making his case for the proposed system: he also had to show how the extended republic could simultaneously protect or provide for a number of primary goals and values such as liberty, justice, and the common good, without compromising republican principles.

As we might expect, Publius begins his analysis in Federalist 10 by amplifying on the nature of the “mortal diseases under which popular governments have everywhere perished” and “from which the adversaries to liberty derive their most specious declamations.” In this endeavor, he focuses his attention exclusively on the conditions which he and others perceive in the existing states. He notes that, despite the “valuable improvements made by the American constitutions on the popular models, both ancient and modern,” “complaints” are still forthcoming “from our most considerate and virtuous citizens, equally the friends of public and private faith and of public and personal liberty” about the instability of these governments, their disregard for the “public good” in the resolution of political conflicts, as well as their abandonment of the “rules of justice” and the “rights of the minor party” to the “superior force of an interested and overbearing majority.” These complaints and the “prevailing and increasing distrust of public engagements and alarm for private rights which are echoed from one end of the continent to the other” are, he argues, “chiefly, if not wholly,” the “effects of the unsteadiness and injustice with which a factious spirit has tainted our public administration” (77-78).

At this point Publius sets forth his now famous definition of factions: “By a faction I understand a number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community” (78). Factions are, as he puts it at the end of this essay, the “diseases most incident to republican government” and as such the principal threats to a limited or constitutional republic (84). For this reason, Publius's observations concerning their nature and how to handle the problems they pose merit our close attention.

This definition of faction informs us that Publius must be read and understood as an “objectivist,” that is, as one for whom such concepts as “the permanent and aggregate interests of the community,” “the rights of other citizens,” and, as we will see later, “justice” have an existence and meaning quite apart from that which any majority or minority may assign to them at any given point in time. Otherwise there would be no standards, principles, or norms for determining whether or not any given group is factious or not. Later, and in other contexts, he remarks in greater detail on the standards or principles he would seem to have in mind for determining what constitutes a faction. At this juncture, we must simply note that many modern commentators have generally shown an unwillingness to enter his objectivist framework in analyzing his extended republic theory. Indeed, in their analyses, many of them impose a positivism on The Federalist altogether foreign to its authors and to the Founders in general.⁶ Such a perspective leads one to forget about Publius's purposes and to treat Federalist 10—as a goodly number of modern political scientists, most notably the pluralists, are wont to do—as simply providing a reasonably accurate explanatory/descriptive account of why and how our system operates as it does.⁷

A related observation flows from this: while “passion” and “interest” are at the core of factions, clearly not all groups based on “passion” or “interest” are factions. What distinguishes a faction, as the definition makes clear, is the oppressive or socially destructive end which it seeks. Again, modern analysts, given their relativistic perspectives, do not distinguish between factions and interest groups. As a result, pluralists often describe the dynamics of American politics in terms of factions fighting factions, a process which, they suggest, tends to moderate the positions or demands of the competing factions. This process of moderation, in turn, they have come to look upon as Publius's solution to the problem of factions. This conclusion, however, is both partial and misleading.⁸ True enough, in some conflicts, particularly those involving interest-based factions—i.e., those which center on economic policies and issues—moderation and compromise can produce nonfactious results. Indeed, so much is suggested in some of the examples of interest conflict at the state level that Publius cites—e.g., creditor-debtor, landed-manufacturing—where he laments their onesided and factious resolution due, in part, to the fact that the “rights of the minor party” were not taken into account (77). Other types of conflict, however, particularly those stemming from principle, are simply not amenable to resolution through the processes of give and take.

The character of factious strife and its resolution may profitably be viewed from still another, slightly different, perspective. There are certainly groups whose ends or purposes render them inherently factious according to Publius's definition. Their announced goals may be to deprive other citizens of their rights, or their allegiances to foreign countries unfriendly to the United States may lead them to back measures contrary to long-term interests of the nation. Any compromise with such factions is highly unlikely to produce an outcome that contributes to the public good. On the other hand, creditors, debtors, farmers, and merchants—the kinds of interests with which Publius is primarily concerned—are not inherently factious. If we are to believe Publius, however, they can and will act factiously when given the opportunity to do so. That is, they become factious, albeit retrospectively, when they take advantage of the opportunity to judge of their own cause and advance their partial interests to the exclusion of all others. The factiousness of these groups, unlike those inherently factious, can be removed through the processes of moderation that result from compromise with opposing interests. But “can” is the operative word; in this context, compromise is a necessary, but not sufficient condition to prevent the passage of a factious measure. The manner in which Publius anticipated compromise operating to eliminate “factiousness” is a matter to which we will return in due course.

We learn a good deal more about the nature of factions by turning our attention to Publius's main concern in this essay, namely, “curing” their “mischiefs.” He briefly considers the alternative of “removing the causes” of faction—an alternative which, he contends, would involve either “destroying the liberty which is essential to its existence” or “giving to every citizen the same opinions, the same passions, and the same interests.” Publius rejects both solutions; the first he deems “worse than the disease” and the second, “impracticable” (78).

It is in his brief discussion of the impracticability of reducing individuals to the same opinions, passions, and interests that we gain some insight into the enormity and complexity of what can be termed the problem of factions. In two sentences Publius draws an involved relationship between reason, opinion, and passion which can be put roughly as follows. So long as man “is at liberty to exercise” his fallible reason “different opinions will be formed.” Beyond this, there is a “reciprocal influence” between opinions and passions: passions will attach themselves to opinions “as long as the connection subsists between” an individual's “reason and his self-love”; passions may influence opinion, particularly as individuals attempt to justify their passions; or opinions could well serve to direct the passions (78).

Whatever the precise relationship between opinion and passion—Publius does not spell it out in any detail—we can see the virtual impossibility of “reducing” men to the same opinions and passions, the more so as it seems that reasoning itself, quite apart from passion, is capable of generating different opinions to which passions will attach themselves.⁹ His treatment of opinions and passions, moreover, leads us to wonder whether—contrary to what he intimates—the destruction or abolition of liberty which fuels faction is even possible. To put this another way, leaving to one side the oppressiveness that would be necessary in any effort designed to squelch liberty, would it even be possible to extinguish the “liberty” to reason? Short of this, or somehow rendering man's reason infallible, there would appear to be no way to eliminate factions.¹⁰

As for giving men the same “interest,” Publius writes that an “obstacle” no less “insuperable” than those encountered with regard to opinions and passions is “the diversity in the faculties of men, from which the rights of property originate.” His discussion, though brief, would suggest, however, that this obstacle is not insuperable, not at least in the same sense as those encountered with “giving” individuals the same opinions and passions. So much we may infer because he goes on to write immediately after making this point that “the protection of these [diverse] faculties is the first object of government.” Whereas there would seem to be inherent obstacles (e.g., fallible reason) to uniformity of opinion, the diversity that leads to different interests seems to require the protective shield of government, because, we may reasonably surmise, it can be more easily destroyed or eliminated. In any event, Publius does recognize that “the protection of different and unequal faculties of acquiring property” leads to the “possession of different degrees and kinds of property,” which, in turn, conditions the “sentiments and views of their respective proprietors,” thereby dividing “society into different interests and parties” (78).

We see from his discussion of opinions, passions, and interests that Publius, far from advocating measures that would inhibit factions, actually nourishes the roots from which they spring by urging the protection of the diverse faculties that spawn interest-based factions. We also come to see from his analysis just how highly he values liberty. While he recognizes its potential dangers (“liberty is to faction what air is to fire”), he regards liberty as “essential to political life” in a republican regime (78). In the last analysis, then, the way is open for factions to flourish by availing themselves of this liberty.

The nature and scope of the problem of factions is reflected only partially in Publius's remark that the “latent causes of faction are thus sown in the nature of man” (79). Publius compounds and exacerbates the problem by, in effect, holding that those measures which would serve to remove their root causes are themselves factious. Certainly, we may say, this is how he would look upon any effort to destroy liberty or to insure a uniformity of opinion, passion, or interest among individuals.

Before turning to his cure for the “mischiefs of faction,” which does, indeed, avoid this difficulty, Publius presents us with relatively specific examples of factionalism. In so doing, he presents the reader with an understanding of the nature of the problems that have caused so much concern among the “considerate and virtuous citizens” about the stability of the state governments (77).¹¹ “The latent causes of faction,” he remarks, are “everywhere brought into different degrees of activity, according to the different circumstances of civil society.” In this respect, he notes the “zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning government, and many other points, as well of speculation as of practice.” More, he sees passion-based factions growing up around “different leaders ambitiously contending for pre-eminence and power; or to persons of other descriptions whose fortunes have been interesting to the human passions.” He laments that all of this has produced animosities and rivalries rather than cooperation in pursuit of the “common good,” but he is under no illusions about there ever being a factionless society: “so strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities that where no substantial occasion presents itself the most frivolous and fanciful distinctions have been sufficient to kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most violent conflicts” (79).

This aspect of Publius's presentation merits our attention because of the numerous misinterpretations of his outlook and strategy in approaching the problem of factions; misinterpretations which, we should note in passing, have also provided a basis for attributing ulterior motives to Publius and the Founders. These passages, when read in context, are unexceptional; they more or less follow from what Publius has said to this point in the essay. Yet they are usually ignored or subordinated by those who seize upon the sentences which immediately follow in an effort to show that Publius was an economic determinist or a pre-Marxian Marxist. In these sentences, Publius acknowledges that the “most common and durable source of factions has been the various and unequal distribution of property” and that “those who hold and those who are without property have ever formed distinct interests in society” (79).

Read in isolation, these passages do lend credence to the thesis that Publius was, indeed, an economic determinist who viewed political conflict from a Marxist perspective as a struggle between the haves and have-nots. But, as we have noted, the passages in question are part of a larger paragraph, the begining portions of which, quoted above, point to opinion and passion as sources of conflict and faction. For this reason alone, Publius can hardly be charged with having the tunnel vision characteristic of an economic determinist.

Equally important, we should note that when Publius does discuss interest-based factions, which do form around the “various and unequal distribution of property,” he speaks not only of “horizontal” cleavages between the haves and have-nots but, significantly, of “vertical” cleavages as well: “A landed interest, a manufacturing interest, a mercantile interest, a moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, grow up of necessity in civilized nations, and divide them into different classes, actuated by different sentiments and views” (79).¹² Thus, from Publius's perspective, the cleavages, animosities, rivalries, and the like which do surround interest factions may be said to run in helter-skelter patterns over time, both among and within these various interests.

Other analysts and critics, far from ignoring those passages relating to opinion and passion-based factions, deem them critical for understanding Publius's grand strategy for avoiding the fatal consequences of faction. They suggest that Publius, consonant with the teachings of David Hume, recognized that factions based on opinion and passion could be the most vicious and intractable. Factions united, for example, on principle and consumed with a feeling of self-righteousness cannot, as we have intimated above, be easily handled, a concern which is manifested in contemporary times by those who caution against the intrusion of potentially explosive social issues—e.g., abortion or prayer in the public schools—into the political arena. On the other hand, according to this interpretation, Publius did believe factions based on interest to be far less dangerous; that is, their differences could more easily be resolved through compromise without endangering the order and stability of the system. Consequently, so this line of analysis runs, Publius's strategy was to encourage divisions based on economic interests: if divisions could be channeled along these lines and away from opinions and passions, the proposed political system would be able to avoid fatal “vibrations.”¹³

What we do know from the text is that Publius does believe that the “principal task of modern legislation”—the matter with which he is concerned—is, in fact, the “regulation of these various and interfering [economic] interests” (79). We can, with reason, speculate that Publius uses the word modern to indicate that the principal task of legislation was different in times past. From his conception of the role of government and the chief function of the legislature, we may also say that he writes from the vantage point of one who firmly embraces a distinction between government and society. Such a distinction, it would appear, was probably so much a part of the generally accepted political ethos that he simply takes it for granted that the proposed system will not have to face up to the full scope and intensity of the kind of factious strife which proved too much for the “petty republics” of the past.

We can readily adduce other, not entirely unrelated, reasons why Publius believed that the proposed system would be able to withstand the effects of the more destructive factions. The proposed national government, he points out by way of arguing against a bill of rights, is merely intended to regulate the general political interests of the nation” (84:513). As a consequence, he may well have anticipated that the states would constitute the principal arena of conflict between passion-based factions—a view supported by his observations regarding the division between state and national concerns which we will examine in Chapter 4. Moreover, he did see extensiveness operating to diffuse potentially factious issues so that they might never reach the national political arena. For instance, he writes toward the end of Federalist 10: “A religious sect may degenerate into a political faction in a part of the Confederacy; but the variety of sects dispersed over the entire face of it must secure the national councils against any danger from that source” (84).

There are at least three interrelated difficulties in attributing to Publius a strategy of narrowing or channeling politics to conflicts over interests in order to moderate the effects of faction at the national level. First, the text would suggest, as we have indicated, that he believed the national government will, to a significant degree, be insulated or sheltered from disputes involving passion-based factions. Second, interjecting the notion of channeling conflict is foreign to Publius's approach to the problem of factions, which does not involve manipulation. Put another way, the essay, far from being prescriptive, is primarily descriptive and explanatory in nature. That is, he endeavors to show how the factors associated with an extensive republic will operate naturally to create a political environment which will serve to control the effects of faction. And third, a related point, from Publius's perspective, conflict along interest lines already predominates in the political arena at the state level, and he obviously assumes that the resolution of such conflicts will be the “principal task” of the national legislature as well. Moreover, in writing that property interests are “the most common and durable sources of faction,” he is suggesting that such conflicts are natural to man, scarcely in need of any artificial stimulation.

The fact is that Publius's attention focuses on the problems associated with the regulation of “various and interfering interests.” The crucial difficulty which he identifies centers on the fact that “the spirit of party and faction” is “involve[d] … in the necessary and ordinary operations of government.” It is precisely this situation—unavoidable, of course, in a society which places a high premium on liberty—that has resulted in the instability and injustice at the state level, because, as he observes, the parties or interests to a dispute have in many instances also been the judges of that dispute. And this state of affairs clearly violates a maxim central to his conception of justice: “no man [should be] a judge in his own cause.” Otherwise, he contends, “his interest would certainly bias his judgment, and, not improbably, corrupt his integrity” (79).

In illustrating his point, Publius conceives of the legislature operating in a judicial capacity: its “most important acts,” he maintains, constitute “judicial determinations … concerning the rights of large bodies of citizens.” Yet, very much unlike the judicial setting, he sees the “different classes of legislators” as both “advocates and parties to the causes which they determine.” As we should expect, he draws his examples from the economic sphere: creditors and debtors divide over the laws relating to “private debts”; the landed and manufacturing interests differ over whether “domestic manufacturers” should be encouraged and to what degree “foreign manufacturers” ought to be restricted; and the “apportionment of taxes on the various descriptions of property” pits the wealthy against the not so wealthy. Although, Publius writes, “justice ought to hold the balance between them,” this is far from being the case. Instead, because “the parties are, and must be, themselves the judges … the most numerous party, or in other words, the most powerful faction must be expected to prevail” without regard to either “justice” or “the public good.” And, consonant with what he is to argue later, Publius leaves little doubt that when “opportunity and temptation are given to a predominant party,” it will “trample on the rules of justice” (79-80).

CONTROLLING THE EFFECTS OF FACTION AND THE EXTENDED REPUBLIC

With this we have come full circle in Publius's statement of the problem of factions: after having explored in some depth the scope and nature of factions, he brings us back to his point of departure, to the conditions which have stirred “complaints” about the “spirit of faction” in the existing governments. To this he adds, as if to close off the last remaining out to this dilemma, that “it is vain to say that enlightened statesmen will be able to adjust the clashing interests and render them all subservient to the public good.” Such “statesmen,” he points out, “will not always be at the helm,” and, what is more, such adjustments will frequently involve taking “indirect and remote considerations” into account, considerations that “rarely prevail over the immediate interests which one party may find in disregarding the rights of another or the good of the whole” (80). Thus we are led to believe that, even if enlightened statesmen were at the helm, their capacity to resolve conflicts consistent with the general welfare would be severely limited by the propensity of interests to pursue their immediate self-gratification at the expense of the long-term common good.

Publius's remarks on this score strongly suggest that he believed enlightened statesmen, whether at the helm or not, would, at best, normally constitute a minority in the legislative assemblies. From the context in which he introduces and discusses the role of enlightened statesmen, it seems clear that one of their chief attributes is the ability and willingness to subordinate partial, short-term self-interest to the long-range common good. Consequently, if he believed that they would with some frequency comprise a majority, he could not very well write as he does that “indirect and remote considerations … will rarely prevail over … immediate interests.” In other words, the chief limitation on the statesmen's ability to “render” the “clashing [and partial] interests … subservient to the public good” simply would not exist if statesmen constituted a majority. This, in turn, means—to follow through with this line of reasoning—that when Publius writes of statesmen being “at the helm” he means something akin to their being in positions of leadership, not as constituting a numerical majority (80).

The “inference” that Publius draws from his analysis to this point in the essay is that the “causes of faction cannot be removed and that relief is only to be sought in the means of controlling its effects” (80).

Publius makes it abundantly clear at the outset in presenting his “cure” for the “mischiefs” of faction that he is concerned almost exclusively with the “mischiefs” of majority factions. A minority faction, he writes, “may clog the administration … may convulse the society; but it will be unable to execute and mask its violence under the forms of the Constitution” because “the republican principle … enables the majority to defeat its sinister views by regular vote” (80). With only two sentences, he dismisses the problem of minority factions. In so doing he highlights a very perplexing problem that arises within his objectivist framework: what can be done when a majority is included in a faction? What is to prevent it from sacrificing “both the public good and the rights of other citizens” to its “ruling passion”? (80).

Publius does not shrink from acknowledging this difficulty. In one of the most critical sentences of this essay, he declares: “To secure the public good and private rights against the danger of such a faction, and at the same time to preserve the spirit and the form of popular government, is then the great object to which our inquiries are directed.” To this he immediately adds that this “great object” is also “the great desideratum by which alone this form of government can be rescued from the opprobrium under which it has so long labored and be recommended to the esteem and adoption of mankind” (80-81). In sum, this is the central concern for Publius; a concern which must be continually borne in mind in analyzing his solution.

We must jump ahead a bit in our analysis to understand the full significance of this matter. Publius claims in the last paragraph of the essay to have discovered a “republican remedy for the diseases most incident to republican government” (84). No doubt he regarded this as his crowning achievement and principal contribution to the theory and practice of republican government since it provided a means for rendering this species of government compatible with other highly cherished values such as liberty, order, and justice—a compatibility, as he suggests both in essays 9 and 10, heretofore thought virtually impossible for any extended period of time. However, modern critics have questioned whether he does, in fact, realize his “great desideratum”—whether, for example, he really provides a republican remedy for the problem of majority factions. And still another area of dispute surrounds the interrelationship and relative significance of the elements of his solution, the core of which constitutes his extended republic theory. These concerns, with which we will deal later, rank high among those that have arisen regarding the adequacy of his remedy.

Publius sees but two means for the attainment of his principal objective, i.e., controlling the effects of majority factions: “Either the existence of the same passion or interest in a majority at the same time must be prevented, or the majority, having such coexistent passion or interest, must be rendered, by their number and local situation, unable to concert and carry into effect schemes of oppression” (81). In this regard, he stresses a proposition which is central to his theoretical approach both in this essay and elsewhere: nothing can be relied upon to restrain majorities from pursuing their goals “if the impulse and the opportunity be suffered to coincide.” He remarks that “neither moral nor religious motives” have proved to be an “adequate control” on the “injustice and violence of individuals” and that they “lose their efficacy in proportion to the number combined together, that is, in proportion as their efficacy becomes needful” (81).

Publius drives the foregoing points home regarding the need to prevent the coincidence of “impulse and opportunity” by showing why in a “pure democracy”—that is, a “society” small enough so that the people can “assemble and administer the government in person”—there can be “no cure for the mischiefs of faction.” Simply put, there are no obstacles or barriers to prevent the same passion or interest from overcoming a majority, nor are there any impediments which prevent such majorities from executing their will as soon as the common passion or interest is felt. This he holds is why “such democracies have ever been spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found incompatible with personal security or the rights of property; and have in general been as short in their lives as they have been violent in their deaths.” In his eyes these conditions are simply inherent to this “form of government” contrary to the teachings of “theoretic politicians” who, as he puts it, “have erroneously supposed that by reducing mankind to a perfect equality in their political rights, they would at the same time be perfectly equalized in their possessions, their opinions, and their passions” (81). In short, according to Publius, factions are not only inevitable in pure democracies, they are also highly volatile.

Publius's analysis of pure democracy provides the necessary introduction for the elaboration of his extended republic theory. What he is bent on showing is that a republic, “a government in which the scheme of representation takes place,” holds out the prospect for “the cure for which we are seeking.” To this end, he compares a republic to a pure democracy to “examine the points” of difference in order to show “the nature of the cure and the efficacy which it must derive from the Union” (81). What becomes clear as he proceeds is that what he really wants to show are the advantages of a large over a small republic in order to illustrate, we may assume, the advantages the proposed national system will enjoy over the individual states. Throughout he seems to assume that small republics will exhibit the same weaknesses as pure democracies—weaknesses to which more extensive republics are far less prone.

At no point, we should note in passing, does he delve into the matter of an optimal size, though in Federalist 14 he tells us that the proposed union is not too large. In this determination practical concerns such as transportation and communication seem to be uppermost in his mind. At the very end of Federalist 51, he writes that, despite opinions to the contrary, “the larger the society, provided it be within a practicable sphere, the more duly capable it will be of self-government” (325). What is somewhat remarkable is that Publius seems oblivious to the arguments of the Antifederalists, based upon traditional republican theory, that extensiveness could be carried too far by embracing interests that simply cannot be peacefully accommodated under one political roof. Certainly he does not think this to be the case with the proposed union, for he writes of the people of the states as “members of the same family” bound together by “cords of affection” (14:103; see also 2:38-39).

Publius develops his case for the extended republic around the “two great points of difference” he perceives between a pure democracy and a republic. The first of these is representation. At the outset of his discussion on this point, he leads his readers to believe that “it may well happen that the public voice, pronounced by the representatives of the people, will be more consonant to the public good than if pronounced by the people themselves, convened for the purpose.” Certainly this would result if the representatives were to possess the abilities and character he attributes to them at this point in his presentation: they will, he writes, “refine and enlarge the public views”; their collective “wisdom” will enable them to “best discern the true interest of their country,” and their “patriotism and love of justice will be least likely to sacrifice it to temporary or partial considerations.” But, quite abruptly, he switches perspectives by observing that “the effect” [of representation] “might be inverted”: “Men of factious tempers, of local prejudices, or of sinister designs, may, by intrigue, by corruption, or by other means, first obtain the suffrages, and then betray the interests of the people.” Since he cannot compare the likelihood of these outcomes in a large republic against a pure democracy, the question for him now becomes “whether small or extensive republics are most favorable to the election of proper guardians of the public weal” (82).

Publius sees two reasons to believe that a finer quality of representative will emerge in the large rather than in the small republic. The first of these relates to the fact that for both large and small republics the legislatures must be small enough “to guard against the confusion of a multitude”; that is, that there is an upper limit to legislative size no matter how big the republic (82). This upper limit—he intimates (55:343) that it might be 400—means that the proportion of fit characters to representative seats will be higher in the large than in the small republic, thereby allowing the voters of the large republic more fit characters from which to chose their representatives. In terms of Publius's broader argument, this advantage rests on the unarticulated assumptions that fit characters will seek office and that the voters will elect them.

The second advantage that a large republic enjoys over the small, as Publius sees it, relates to the size of the electorate. With a “greater number of citizens,” he writes, “it will be more difficult for unworthy candidates to practise with success the vicious arts by which elections are too often carried.” Thus, he believes, the “suffrages of the people” will be freer and “more likely to center on men who possess the most attractive merit and the most diffusive and established characters” (82-83). Publius does not tell us what he means by “vicious arts” so that we are left to speculate what they might be in this context. Certainly bribery and intimidation by a dominant faction would be rendered less likely with a more extensive electorate (see 57:354).

Federalism comes into play when Publius acknowledges that if the electorate is too extensive, the representative will lack a familiarity with “local circumstances and lesser interests,” whereas, if it is too confined, he will be too attached to local interests and “too little fit to comprehend and pursue great and national objects.” This difficulty is overcome by the proposed “federal Constitution,” which “forms a happy combination in this respect” by referring “the great and aggregate interests” to the national government and “the local and particular to the State legislatures” (83).

The second “great” point of difference between a republic and a democracy for Publius comes down to “the greater number of citizens and extent of territory” that the republican form can embrace. Indeed, it is of some significance to note that he believes “it is this circumstance principally which renders factious combinations less to be dreaded” in republics than democracies. To show this, he stresses the conditions that render the coincidence of impulse and opportunity far more likely in smaller societies: “the fewer the distinct parties and interests, the more frequently will a majority be found of the same party; and the smaller the number of individuals composing a majority, and the smaller the compass within which they are placed, the more easily will they concert and execute their plans of oppression.” On the other hand, he points out, in the extended republic, with its multiplicity and diversity of “parties and interests,” it is “less probable that a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other citizens.” Moreover, even if such a common motive did exist, he continues, “it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their own strength and act in unison with each other.”

At this point he refers to “other impediments” to the formation of factious majorities, but cites only one: that communication among those bent upon “unjust and dishonorable purposes” will be inhibited by a “distrust in the proportion to the number whose concurrence is necessary.” This impediment, he recognizes, depends on the “consciousness” of the participants that the ends they seek are “unjust and dishonorable”—a condition that raises problems best examined in another context (83).

In the latter part of essay 51, Publius echoes and amplifies this aspect of his extended republic theory. Here he examines two possible solutions to the problem of majority factions: the first “creating a will in the community independent of the majority”; the second, “comprehending in the society” so many interests “as will render an unjust combination of the whole very improbable, if not impracticable” (323-24). The first method he regards as a “precarious security” because there is no guarantee that such an independent body will protect minorities from unjust majorities or even turn “against both parties.” The second method is obviously that embodied in the proposed system: authority is “derived from and dependent on the society,” but the society will contain “so many parts, interests and classes of citizens” that minorities “will be in little danger from interested combinations of the majority.” In this regard, he writes, “the security for civil rights must be the same as that for religious rights … in the one case in the multiplicity of interests, and in the other the multiplicity of sects.” But Publius sees this diversity and multiplicity of interest as providing for more than just protection against factious majorities. Given the “great variety of interests, parties, and sects” within the proposed system, he holds that “a coalition of a majority of the whole society could seldom take place on any other principles than those of justice and the general good” (325).

There are other aspects of his discussion in Federalist 51 that are noteworthy because they either emphasize points made in the tenth essay or they introduce a new dimension to his theory. The extended republic, we see more clearly, is not an iron-clad guarantee that majority factions will not rule. Publius's claims in this regard are put in probabilistic terms: the chances of their “combining” are “very improbable” (324); minorities are in “little danger” (324) from majority factions; majorities will “seldom” (325) form on principles other than justice and the general good.

We also see that he holds out a prospect for controlling the effects of faction that is somewhat at odds with his views that the remedy must be found in preventing the coincidence of impulse and opportunity and that short-term self-interest will usually prevail over long-term common interests. Noting that “justice is the end of government … [and] of civil society” and that “it ever has been and ever will be pursued until it be obtained, or until liberty be lost in the pursuit,” he goes on to compare those societies in which the “stronger faction” oppresses the weaker to “a state of nature” wherein the “weaker individual is not secured against the violence of the stronger.” And, he reasons, just as “stronger individuals … prompted by the uncertainty of their condition” saw fit “to submit to a government which may protect the weak as well as themselves,” so too might the “more powerful factions or parties be gradually induced, by a like motive,” to accept a government that will protect both the weaker and stronger factions (324-25). Thus, he opens up the possibility that long-term calculations of self-interest may operate to prevent the fluctuations between anarchy and tyranny so common to the republican form. Moreover, it would seem to follow that the initial motivation would be reinforced once these interests perceived the benefits of such a government. Over time their obedience might well become a matter of habit.

A notable absence in Federalist 51 is any discussion of the role of representation in controlling the effects of faction. Although we must speculate why this so, there would seem to be at least two probable reasons. First, as we saw in Federalist 10, Publius believes that the multiplicity and diversity of interest is the major obstacle to the formation of majority factions. The role that representatives can play would relate largely to preventing the enactment or execution of a factious will, a matter discussed in various contexts at other places in the essays. Second, Federalist 51 marks the last of a brace of five essays concerned with maintaining the separation of powers. Publius's primary concern in these essays is to show how the system will operate to prevent the legislature from drawing all powers into its “imperious vortex” (48:309), and, in the course of this, he has some very unkind words to say about representative assemblies. As a consequence, he may very well have thought it totally inappropriate to reiterate his position in Federalist 10 concerning their capacity to “refine and enlarge” the public views.¹⁴ Be that as it may, essays 10 and 51, taken in conjunction, would indicate that he regarded multiplicity and diversity of interests, not representation, as the principal factor in curing the evils of faction. Shortly we will deal with the relationship between representation and the diversity of interests to indicate how both combine to control the effects of faction.

In both Federalist 10 and 51, he emphasizes that the states are highly vulnerable to the assaults of faction. Toward the end of number 10 he writes, for instance, that individual states may succumb to “a rage for paper money, for an abolition of debts, for an equal division of property, or for any other improper or wicked project” (84). Likewise, in both essays, he stresses the advantages of a proposed union in controlling the effects of factions. In Federalist 51, he goes so far as to predict that Rhode Island, “left by itself” outside of the “Confederacy,” would suffer the full ravages of factions “under [its] popular form of government within such narrow limits” (325). In the same essay he remarks that if instead of union the states go their own way or form a number of confederacies, the primary protections against factious majorities will diminish. And, in concluding 10, he details the advantages which the large republic enjoys over the small. In sum, he holds, the “whole body of the Union” is less vulnerable to factions “than a particular member of it, in the same proportion as such a malady is more likely to taint a particular county or district than an entire State” (84).

With this we have before us the basic elements of Publius's cure for the evils of majority faction. The primary ingredient of this cure, we should take care to note, is the multiplicity and diversity of interests that are concomitant with extensiveness. As such it is, for the most part, a “natural,” as opposed to man-made, remedy. Once, that is, extensiveness is provided for—this constitutes man's primary input—the remedy follows as a matter of course; the mere existence of multiple and diverse interests serves to control the effects of factions. Even the benefits that flow from representation are the result of extensiveness and this multiplicity and diversity of interests. To put this still another way, Publius does not rely upon the formal institutions and procedures spelled out in the proposed Constitution to channel, direct, thwart, or otherwise control factions. Nor do we find reference to separation of powers, checks and balances, judicial review, or a bill of rights as playing any role in providing a remedy. And when Publius does get around to discussing the role of institutions and procedures in curbing factions, we will see that their role is distinctly secondary to that provided by the extended republic. In this respect, his teaching is markedly different from our conventional wisdom today, which holds that our constitutional institutions and processes along with the Bill of Rights provide the primary protections against the excesses of majorities. …

Notes

1. That the “unmixed” feature of the proposed system was important to Publius is also indicated in Federalist 14 where he writes: “If Europe has the merit of discovering this great mechanical power in government [representation], by the simple agency of which the will of the largest political body may be concentrated and its force directed to any object which the public good requires, America can claim the merit of making the discovery the basis of unmixed and extensive republics” (100-101). [All citations to The Federalist in the text are to The Federalist Papers, Clinton Rossiter, ed. (New York: New American Library, 1961). When the number of the essay is apparent from the text, the numbers in parentheses will be only to the page numbers. Otherwise the citations will be to the essay number followed by the page numbers.]

2. While James Allen Smith was again the first to set forth this thesis, in one fashion or another the works of Beard, Parrington, Hofstadter, Dahl, and Burns cited above accept and enlarge upon this contention.

3. The Straussian school of political theorists uses this term to emphasize that Publius's teachings are a part of modern, as opposed to classical, political thought. It serves to link Publius with, among others, Machiavelli, Bacon, Hobbes, and Locke. Strictly speaking, the term is not used by Publius. Nor, as we indicate below, does he offer up a “new political science.”

4. This was a common argument used by the Antifederalists against the adoption of the Constitution. Typical is Cato's argument based on his understanding of Montesquieu's teachings: “The recital, or premises on which this new form of government is erected, declares a consolidation or union of all thirteen parts, or states, into one great whole. … But whoever seriously considers the immense extent of territory comprehended within the limits of the United States, together with the variety of its climates, productions, and commerce, the difference of extent, and number of inhabitants in all; the dissimilitude of interest, morals, and policies, in almost every one, will receive it as an intuitive truth, that a consolidated republican form of government therein, can never form a perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to you and your posterity, for to these objects it must be directed: this unkindred legislature therefore, composed of interests opposite and dissimilar in their nature, will in its exercise, emphatically be, like a house divided against itself.” Herbert J. Storing, ed., The Complete Anti-federalist, 7 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), II, 110.

5. This attack reaches its crescendo in Federalist 14 when Publius asks rhetorically: “But why is the experiment of an extended republic to be rejected merely because it may comprise what is new? Is it not the glory of the people of America that, whilst they have paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their own good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the lessons of their own experience?” (104). In this, however, Publius belies his argument in Federalist 9 by acknowledging the novelty of the proposed system.

6. Robert Dahl seems to articulate the feelings of most pluralists who have examined this aspect of Publius's theory when he describes the concept of faction as “meaningless.” There is no way, he contends, by which we can “distinguish a ‘number of citizens’ who make up a ‘faction’ from any other number of citizens.” The major difficulty according to Dahl is that “we do not know either the ‘rights of other citizens’ or the ‘permanent and aggregate interests of the community.’” Preface [to Democratic Theory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1956)], p. 24.

7. For a thorough treatment of how and why this came to pass see Paul F. Bourke, “The Pluralist Reading of James Madison's Tenth Federalist,” Perspectives in American History 9 (1975).

8. In this connection, Karl A. Lamb writes: “The pluralist sees government policy as the outcome of a contest between organized groups, Madison's familiar ‘factions.’ As each group seeks its private interests, the bargaining and compromise between groups produces something akin to the public interest; the outcome need only by ratified by Congress.” However, Lamb continues, rather than viewing factions as a “regrettable” (though unavoidable) “phenomenon,” “the extreme pluralists invert Madison's emphasis by celebrating factionalism, and they see the role of government as one of accommodating, more than regulating, group activities.” What is more, according to Lamb, “in this conception … all interest groups are of equal significance and moral stature; there is no standard beyond the interest groups' contest that designates the public good.” The Guardians (New York: W. W. Norton, 1982), pp. 77-78.

9. We can place Publius's thoughts in this regard into the implicit framework of thought-speech-action found in J. S. Mill's On Liberty. Publius would not touch the area of thought. His concerns center in the areas of speech-action.

10. It is of some interest to note that Publius, instead of pointing to the fallibility of reasoning as a source for different opinions from which factions arise, could simply have asserted that factions will arise so long as men reason differently. In putting the issue this way, he is asserting that there are objective standards by which to measure reasoning—how else would reference to “fallible” reasoning make sense?

    We do not know how much Publius intended to place under the category of “reason.” It may well be that we would overburden his conception of reason to argue that if man's reasoning were infallible, it would not constitute a source of faction. Whether it would or not depends on the extent to which we conceive of reason as a source of values and goals.

11. On this point, Publius follows very closely the general framework set forth by Hume in his analysis of factions and their causes. See “Of Parties in General” in Hume's Political Essays (New York: Liberal Arts Press, 1953). For an excellent discussion of the relationship between the thoughts of Hume and Madison on this matter see Douglass Adair's “That Politics May Be Reduced to a Science: David Hume, James Madison, and the Tenth Federalist” in Colbourn, ed., Fame and the Founding Fathers. For a critical view of Adair's analysis see James Conniff, “The Enlightenment and American Political Thought: A Study of the Origins of Madison's Federalist Number 10,” Political Theory 8 (Aug., 1980).

12. Charles A. Beard quotes very extensively from Federalist 10 in an effort to show that Madison was an economic determinist, a pre-Marxian Marxist. However, in this endeavor he omits all those passages such as the one just quoted above which would indicate otherwise. Vernon Parrington is less obvious in his omissions but guilty of the same practice. In this regard, Benjamin Wright points out that Publius “uses the word ‘class’ only when dealing with … vertical divisions.” Introduction to The Federalist (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1961), 36.

13. Martin Diamond, for example, holds that Madison felt “if Americans can be made to divide themselves according to their narrow and particularized economic interests, they will avoid the fatal factionalism that opinion and passion generate. By contrast, the relatively tranquil kind of factionalism resulting from economic interests makes possible a stable and decent democracy.” Moreover, according to Diamond, “The American polity looks to replace this struggle over the inequality of property by causing to flourish a new kind of economic faction derived from the variety of property. It is on this basis that there can arise a tranquil, modern politics of interest groups, as distinct from a politics of class struggle.” “Ethics and Politics: The American Way” in The Moral Foundations of the American Republic, Robert H. Horwitz, ed. (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1979), p. 54.

14. This is not to say that Publius is inconsistent in this position concerning the character of representatives. In discussing the separation of powers and the character of legislative assemblies, he is concerned with the representatives advancing their own interests as representatives to the detriment of society. However, when these interests do not come into play, he anticipates that the representatives, as a group, can normally be expected to decide impartially.