Sobran's -- The Real News of the Month February 2001 Volume 8, No. 2 -- Special Lincoln Issue Editor: Joe Sobran Publisher: Fran Griffin (Griffin Communications) Managing Editor: Ronald N. Neff Subscription Rates. Print version: $59.95 per year; $100 for 2 years; trial subscription available for $19.95 (5 issues). E-mail subscriptions: $59.95 for 1 year ($25 with a 12-month subscription to the print edition); $100 for 2 years ($45 with a 2-year subscription to the print edition). Payment should be made to The Vere Company. Address: Sobran's, P.O. Box 1383, Vienna, VA 22183-1383 Fax: 703-281-6617 Website: www.sobran.com Publisher's Office: 703-255-2211 or www.griffnews.com Foreign Subscriptions (print version only): Add $1.25 per issue for Canada and Mexico; all other foreign countries, add $1.75 per issue. Credit Card Orders: Call 1-800-493-3348. Allow 4-6 weeks for delivery of your first issue Features THE MOVING PICTURE (page 1) The progressive Hive is buzzing furiously against John Ashcroft, George W. Bush's choice for attorney general -- a religious man who opposes abortion and moral degeneracy. In other words, he's what Joe Lieberman pretended to be. No wonder they hate him. * * * The population of the United States, according to the official census figures, is now over 281 million. Given the likely number of illegal and other uncounted residents, the real figure is probably over 300 million. If abortion weren't legal, it would be approaching 350 million. * * * Victor Borge is dead at 91. The Danish-born comedian-pianist, a Jewish refugee from you-know-who, was a particular favorite of my mother, with his patented blend of suavity and silliness, dignity and self-mockery. He didn't just make you laugh; he made you happy. His humor was a survival of civilized delights. My father, who rarely agreed with my mother, loved him too. "Ladies and gentlemen," Borge began one show solemnly, patting his piano, "the Steinway people have asked me to tell you ... " pause " ... that this is a Baldwin." * * * Hearty thanks to those astute readers who pointed out that Charles II was restored in 1660, not (as I recently wrote) 1860. I could make a case that a monarch was installed in 1860, but I prefer to move on and let the healing begin. * * * This issue is largely devoted to Abraham Lincoln, the central figure in my forthcoming book on the decline of constitutional government. I'm fascinated by one odd fact: this most Shakespearean of presidents (his favorite play was MACBETH) was killed in a theater by a brilliant young Shakespearean actor (who had played Macbeth on the stage). At that moment, of course, John Wilkes Booth thought of himself as another Brutus striking down an arrogant Caesar. (Booth had played both these roles as well.) * * * I am simply astounded at the degree to which Lincoln has been falsified. With the happy exception of the Library of America's Lincoln anthology, most editions of his speeches and writings deliberately omit his utterances on racial matters whenever they conflict with contemporary liberal opinion. His scholarly celebrants play those views down in order to sustain the impression that he was (or would have been, had he lived in our time) an apostle of the agenda of "civil rights," integration, affirmative action, and so forth. Somehow Honest Abe has inspired more lies than any other American. * * * Since writing the ensuing essay, I've learned that Lincoln, like his hero Henry Clay, was a member of the American Colonization Society, founded in 1816 for the purpose of encouraging the gradual emancipation of slaves and their resettlement outside the United States, preferably in Africa. Now forgotten, the society represented an important movement, a via media between the abolitionists and pro-slavery forces. It helped create Liberia, whose capital, Monrovia, was named for one of its members, President James Monroe. Other famous members included Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Andrew Jackson, Millard Fillmore, John Marshall, Francis Scott Key, Daniel Webster, and even two of Lincoln's political foes, Stephen Douglas and Roger Taney. LINCOLN VERSUS HIS "RIGHTFUL MASTERS" (pages 2-6) Abraham Lincoln was a humble, kindly man of the people, devoted to liberty and "government of the people, by the people, for the people." Forced to wage civil war, he did so reluctantly, "with malice toward none, with charity for all," ever appealing magnanimously against sectional hatred to "the better angels of our nature." But in the end, believing in the equal dignity of all races, he made war, freed the slaves, and gave America "a new birth of freedom." He was, in particular, the best friend black Americans ever had. This is the Lincoln of popular mythology, of folklore and movies, but also of scribes and scholars. New books continue pouring out to shore up and even add depth to the myth. Whole books are written about the Gettysburg Address alone. Steeped in Shakespeare and the King James Bible, Lincoln endowed his words with a resonance rivaling theirs in the American mind. Even to criticize Lincoln is to sound like a sorehead. Nevertheless, it must be said, again and again, that no other figure in American history is so different from his accepted image. Lincoln's rhetoric is so eloquent, so overpowering, that it distracts us from the record to which it stands in amazing -- yet obvious -- contrast. His own conduct of the Civil War gave his brilliant words the lie. Yet, in most Americans' minds, those words still define the meaning of that war. Before the war, before his presidency, Lincoln displayed the makings of a great man. In his famous debates with Stephen Douglas in 1858, he impaled Douglas with iron logic. Douglas had endorsed "popular sovereignty" -- the right of people in the territories to decide whether to legalize slavery -- but then embraced the Dred Scott decision, in which Chief Justice Roger Taney had said that the Constitution forbade Congress *or* the people of the territories to ban slavery in the territories. Taney, in other words, had *denied* popular sovereignty when it came to slavery. So Douglas couldn't have it both ways. Lincoln pressed further. Because Douglas and the Democratic Party wouldn't directly say that slavery was wrong in principle, they were bound to treat it, as a practical matter, as a right. There was no middle ground. And if the U.S. Supreme Court should extend its own logic, holding that the Constitution established slave ownership as a right even in the currently "free" states, the Democrats would be bound to accept "the nationalization of slavery." So far Lincoln was right, and he had Douglas cornered. If Lincoln's career had ended there, it would have been an honorable and even glorious one. But as president he became overweening, waging a disastrous war by illegal means and defending his course with sophistry. Because he won the war, crushed the South, "saved the Union," and issued the Emancipation Proclamation, he has been canonized as our greatest president, and his arguments have escaped the scrutiny they deserve. In fact his fallacies have come to sound like truisms, so that it now seems odd even to ask if they were really cogent. Because he was essentially right about slavery, it is too easily assumed that he must have been right about everything else. But after all, it is logically possible that he was right about slavery and wrong to wage war. He knew this himself, though his idolators now take it for granted that if slavery was wrong, the war that ended with its abolition must have been justified -- a simplistic argument Lincoln himself never made. Until the Emancipation Proclamation he was at pains to assure everyone, North and South, that he was *not* waging war on slavery. His famous 1862 letter to Horace Greeley stressed the point: "If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it." He added that he would be as willing to save the Union by freeing all slaves, or by freeing some; he neglected to say whether he would be willing save it by *extending* slavery -- though, if saving the Union was his supreme and sacred goal, well, why not? Lincoln's great presidential speeches are based on one false proposition: that the war was necessary to "save the Union," which the Confederacy was trying to "dissolve" and "destroy." A Southern victory would cause not only the Union but self-government itself to "perish from the earth"! Lincoln was always careful to equate secession with "aggression" and "treason." He inflated the South's desire to withdraw -- peacefully, if possible -- from the confederated Republic into an apocalyptic threat to self-government everywhere, forever. Lincoln's rhetoric always implied that the "rebellion" would not only sever the South, but annihilate the North. Over time he spoke less and less of the "Union" -- in 1861 he had called it "this Confederacy"! -- and more and more of the "nation" as a simple, unitary thing, of which the individual states were mere subdivisions rather than federated sovereign components. A radical change occurred in his own thinking. As the pro-Lincoln historian James M. McPherson observes, Lincoln began with the conservative goal of "preserving" the Union, slavery and all, but ended with the revolutionary aim of using the power of the federal government to transform the internal character of the Southern states. Ultimately the Union victory proved less a conquest of the South by the North than the triumph of the federal government over the states, of "consolidated" government, as the Framers of the Constitution called it, over federalism. Yet the Union would have survived secession; it would not have been destroyed by a few states reclaiming their sovereignty. To cancel your membership in a society is a very different thing from *destroying* that society; but Lincoln was bent on erasing this simple distinction (though earlier in his life he had supported independence movements in Mexico and Hungary). And even if the South had been allowed to secede in peace, a later reunion, on terms agreeable to both sides, would have remained possible, even probable, without the terrible rancor that ensued from the war. In order to rally wavering public opinion to his cause, Lincoln waited for the South to strike the first blow. The North was by no means eager for war; many Northerners, perhaps most, were willing to let the South go its own way. They knew very well that a diminished Union would continue to survive. But Fort Sumter ignited the sort of war fever that Pearl Harbor would set off in isolationist America in 1941, though the only death was that of an unfortunate Union horse. The Union prisoners were treated gallantly after their surrender, but the North reacted as if they had been mercilessly slaughtered. In his first inaugural address, Lincoln had cunningly set the stage for the war he insisted he didn't want. He had said that he had neither the "lawful right" nor the "inclination" to disturb slavery where it already existed, and he quoted and endorsed the Republican platform's declaration that "the maintenance inviolate of the rights of the states, and especially the right of each state to order and control its own domestic institutions according to its own judgment exclusively, *is essential to that balance of power on which the perfection and endurance of our political fabric depend;* and we denounce *the lawless invasion by armed force* of the soil of any state or territory, *no matter under what pretext,* as among the gravest of crimes." (My emphasis; but note the loophole afforded by the word *lawless.*) He even avowed his willingness to support a proposed constitutional amendment protecting slavery from federal interference. Having said this, Lincoln proceeded to deny the right of secession. The Union, he insisted, was "perpetual," and secession was not "provided for" in the Constitution. He went further: "The Union is much older than the Constitution." It commenced with the Articles of Association in 1774, and was "matured and continued" by the Declaration of Independence in 1776, the Articles of Confederation in 1778, and finally by the Constitution itself in 1787. Any act of secession was therefore "legally void." It was his "simple duty" to enforce the law in all the states; "and I shall perform it, so far as practicable, unless *my rightful masters, the American people,* shall *withhold the requisite means,* or, in some authoritative manner, *direct the contrary."* (My emphasis.) That is, only the people could stop him from waging war on the seceding states; but he clearly implied that should they do so, he would heed their desires. Meanwhile, he said, the Union "will constitutionally defend and maintain itself." He added that if the Supreme Court were to decide "vital questions" of public policy, the American people, those "rightful masters" of the government, "will have ceased to be their own rulers, having, to that extent, practically resigned their government into the hands of that eminent tribunal." So Lincoln presented himself as the humble champion of popular self-government and portrayed the Confederacy as an "insurrection" against lawful and constitutional majority rule. But there were some holes in this argument. At Gettysburg he would say that the Declaration had created a "new nation" in 1776, though in fact it had said nothing about a monolithic "nation"; it had asserted that the colonies "are, and of Right ought to be, Free and Independent States." The Articles of Confederation had laid down the principle that "each state retains its sovereignty, freedom, and independence." Nor had the Constitution denied the ultimate sovereignty of the states, three of which had expressly reserved the unconditional right to secede in their ratification acts. As Jefferson Davis later pointed out, either those reservations were valid (in which case *every* state must also retain the right to secede), or the conditional acts of ratification were invalid and three states had never joined the Union. Lincoln's appeals to the Constitution and the people were also hollow. He flagrantly violated the Constitution in order to wage war and, just as significantly, to suppress dissent in the North. He outraged many Northerners by raising troops and money himself for several months, without summoning Congress, whose powers he was usurping. He suspended the writ of habeas corpus, thereby usurping another congressional prerogative; and when Chief Justice Taney ruled that this was a violation of the Constitution, Lincoln not only defied the ruling but wrote an order for Taney's arrest! He later offered the lame argument that a part of the Constitution might have to be violated in order to preserve the whole. But Taney, in this case, was on firm ground: the suspension of habeas corpus during war or insurrection had always been a legislative, not an executive act. Lincoln was acting as a dictator, for which there was absolutely no provision in the Constitution. But, as he ominously put it: "The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present." Equating opposition to the war with "disloyalty" and "treason," Lincoln authorized more than 10,000 arbitrary arrests and shut down hundreds of newspapers throughout the North. Many civilians were improperly tried by military courts and hanged in virtual lynchings for no worse crime than opposing the war. Lincoln wasn't deferential to his "rightful masters, the American people," when they sought to direct him otherwise than as he was inclined to be directed. Nowhere was this clearer than in Maryland in 1861. The legislature voted against secession, but it recognized the right of any state to secede and opposed keeping the Southern states in the Union by force. When it denounced the war as "unconstitutional" and refused to supply troops, Lincoln had the antiwar members arrested (along with the mayor of Baltimore and other prominent antiwar citizens) and used the army to set up a puppet government for the remainder of the war. On election day, federal soldiers, armed with bayonets, guarded the polls and arrested suspected Southern sympathizers; many of these soldiers also voted illegally. It was a nakedly rigged election, made necessary by Lincoln's definitions of *treason* and *disloyalty,* which were so broad as to include, if we count Southerners, most of the population. Presumably the Marylanders who wanted to remain in the Union, while acknowledging that others had the right to secede, considered themselves quite loyal. They also considered themselves Lincoln's "rightful masters," entitled to hold him to the Constitution they thought he was flouting through the means available to them. But Lincoln felt it was up to him to elect a new electorate, having found the old one unsatisfactory. He wasn't taking back talk from his rightful masters. Lincoln's suppression of debate throughout the North made a mockery of his claim to be defending "government of the people, by the people, for the people" and amounted to his own rebellion against his "rightful masters, the American people." He didn't confine himself to usurping Congress's powers, defying the Supreme Court, and making war on the South: he waged war against the freedom of the people of the North as well. He made "saving the Union" a holy cause from which there was no appeal. At Gettysburg Lincoln said that the "new nation" had been "dedicated to the proposition" that "all men are created equal." But the Declaration actually *invoked* that proposition by way of self-justification; it hadn't *dedicated* the "nation" to it. Lincoln also neglected to mention "the consent of the governed," a Jeffersonian principle that confronted him awkwardly as he attempted to impose his will on the South. European observers were shocked not only by the brutality of the Union army in the South, but by Lincoln's reign of terror in the North. His most recent biographer, David Donald, deems Lincoln's presidency the worst period for civil liberties in American history. And so it was. Even the crackdowns of Woodrow Wilson and Franklin Roosevelt during the two world wars were mild by comparison. (For a good summary of Lincoln's crimes against the Constitution and foreign reaction to them, see WHEN IN THE COURSE OF HUMAN EVENTS by Charles Adams, published by Rowman & Littlefield.) To finance his war, Lincoln imposed an income tax, later ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, and fiat money in the form of depreciating greenbacks, which all were forced to accept as legal tender; the greenbacks too were later ruled unconstitutional by the Court, in an opinion written by Chief Justice Salmon Chase -- who had been Lincoln's secretary of the Treasury when the greenbacks were issued! For Lincoln, the sacred end of "preserving the Union" justified nearly every means. Even so, the war dragged on, becoming so unpopular, in spite of all his efforts to suppress dissent, that Lincoln expected to lose the 1864 election. Only the morale-boosting conquest of Atlanta saved him from defeat. Republican government depends on the freedom of the people and their elected representatives to discuss the vital practical questions before them; and no question can be more vital than the choice between war and peace. Without this freedom, public opinion becomes uninformed and stultified, and "the consent of the governed" becomes meaningless. So, in the 1864 election, Lincoln had certain advantages he hadn't had in 1860. He no longer needed to fear the opposition of the Southern voters; and he had crippled opposition in the North. Lincoln's views on racial equality have also been astonishingly misrepresented. It's well known that he expressed opinions on race that are now repugnant to most people, but he went beyond thinking that blacks were naturally inferior to whites. His words in debate with Stephen Douglas in 1858 are occasionally quoted: I will say then that I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of bringing about in any way the social and political equality of the white and black races -- that I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of making voters or jurors of Negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor to intermarry with white people; and I will say in addition to this that there is a physical difference between the white and black races which I believe will forever forbid the two races living together on terms of social and political equality. And inasmuch as they cannot so live, while they do remain together there must be the position of superior and inferior, and I as much as any other man am in favor of having the superior position assigned to the white race. But this was not all. He underlined the point by adding: "I am not in favor of Negro citizenship." Addressing the question whether individual states had the constitutional power to confer citizenship on the Negro, he said: "If the state of Illinois had that power I should be opposed to the exercise of it." Lincoln's apologists try to minimize these words as mere concessions to the prejudices of his age. But they represented his own convictions, and he put them with a force we should not ignore. He went out of his way to say them when he had no need to, repeating the same sentiments in several ways. He also backed them up with action. Beginning with his 1852 eulogy of Henry Clay, Lincoln's hero and an apostle of both emancipation and colonization, Lincoln had spoken openly of the troublesome presence of the free Negroes." In 1854, speaking of the Kansas-Nebraska act, Lincoln had asked what should be done with black slaves: Free them, and make them politically and socially our equals? My own feelings will not admit of this; and if mine would, we well know that those of the great mass of white people will not. Whether this feeling accords with justice and sound judgment is not the sole question, if indeed it is any part of it. A universal feeling, whether well- or ill- founded, cannot be safely disregarded. We cannot, then, make them equals. He suggested a policy of "gradual emancipation," ideally followed by colonization elsewhere: "My first impulse would be to free all the slaves and send them to Liberia -- to their own native land." That was to be a consistent double purpose of his political life: to oppose both slavery *and* Negro citizenship. Speaking on the Dred Scott decision in 1857, Lincoln said: "There is a natural disgust in the minds of nearly all white people to the idea of an indiscriminate amalgamation of the white and black races." He protested that counterfeit logic which concludes that, because I do not want a black woman for a *slave* I must necessarily want her for a *wife.* I need not have her for either; I can just leave her alone. In some respects she certainly is not my equal; but in her natural right to eat the bread she earns with her own hands without asking leave of anyone else, she is my equal, and the equal of all others. But he added that "the separation of the races is the only perfect preventive of amalgamation." He proposed "to transfer the African to his native clime. In 1860 he would approvingly quote Jefferson on the necessity of "emancipation," followed by "deportation." As president, Lincoln supported colonization movements that would encourage free Negroes to move to Africa or Latin America. In modern language, he favored grand apartheid, with the races separate but equal: in fact he believed that the black man could become the white man's equal *only* through separation. In this belief the author of the Gettysburg Address joins hands with Louis Farrakhan. Lincoln's champions hate to see him as a segregationist, but that's exactly what he was. In 1862 he became the first president to welcome a group of free Negroes to the White House, but he did so for the purpose of giving them a stern lecture on the necessity of their leaving the United States: You and we are different races. We have between us a broader difference than exists between almost any other two races. Whether it is right or wrong I need not discuss, but this physical difference is a great disadvantage to us both, as I think your race suffer very greatly, many of them by living among us, while ours suffer from your presence.... It is better for us both, therefore, to be separated. This was a constant theme of Lincoln's presidency: that freed slaves would need a new home, *outside* the United States. In his December 1861 state of the Union message he spoke of "the acquiring of territory" and "the appropriation of money" for "the plan of colonization." In 1862 he addressed representatives of the nonseceding border states on gradual emancipation, mentioning that there was "room in South America for colonization." In September he wrote a preliminary draft of the Emancipation Proclamation which included a pledge that "the effort to colonize persons of African descent, with their consent, upon this continent, or elsewhere, with the previously obtained consent of the governments existing there, will be continued." Finally, to confirm the seriousness of his purpose, Lincoln urged in his December 1862 state of the Union message that Congress adopt a *constitutional amendment* authorizing colonization: "Congress may appropriate money, and otherwise provide, for colonizing free colored persons, with their own consent, at any place or places without the United States." He added: "I cannot make it better known than it already is, that I strongly favor colonization." This proposed amendment is remarkable in two respects. First, it specifies that such colonization must be directed *outside* the United States. Second, it quaintly assumes that Congress would need constitutional authority to take colonization measures; today, of course, Congress and presidents don't bother seeking such authority for *anything* they may care to do. Lincoln still shared a few old scruples about the limits of federal power. Lincoln's enthusiasm for colonization, also called "deportation," failed to gain adherents, and after the amendment failed he dropped the subject. In retrospect, colonization may seem a harebrained scheme, and it embarrasses Lincoln's modern admirers. But it was close to his heart, and it was no passing fancy or hobby: it was integral to his thinking and policy on the subject of race. There is no room for doubt that he was a convinced segregationist. Nor did he think in the least that this meant that he was anti-Negro; on the contrary, he believed total separation was necessary for the good of both the white and black races. He realized it would be hard to achieve, but it was no less his ideal, as well as his practical goal, for that. Lincoln can't be understood unless we see that this was indeed his ideal. It may seem strange that this idol of liberalism should have viewed racial segregation as something to aspire to, but the facts are unequivocal. Abraham Lincoln, the same man who was willing to take extreme measures to prevent the political separation of North and South, was also willing to take other ambitious measures to accomplish the total separation, political and social, of white and black. Because he succeeded in the one goal and failed in the other, the second goal has been forgotten and airbrushed out of the Lincoln myth, along with his assaults on civil liberties and his order for the arrest of the chief justice of the United States. But since Lincoln is revered not only for his successes but for his personal character, these facts, which are something more than incidental details, are essential to any attempt to see him whole, as the towering but tragic figure he was. NUGGETS STRAIGHT THINKIER: Harvard's distinguished philosopher Willard Van Orman Quine, who specialized in mathematical logic, has died at 92. His more abstruse work was beyond my ken, but his witty and invigorating essays, which I read in grad school, gave logic a charm I didn't know it could have. And it's not as if this country can afford to lose another logician. (page 8) UNPARDONABLE: Orrin Hatch and other bipartisan Republicans are calling on G.W. Bush to pardon Bill Clinton -- *before* any indictment is issued. Okay, as long as wešre allowed to tar and feather him. (page 11) TIMELY WORDS: Besieged with office-seekers on his arrival in Washington, Lincoln told his law partner William Herndon: "This human struggle and scramble for office, for a way to live without work, will finally test the strength of our institutions." (page 12) Exclusive to the electronic version: BRIBE, n. -- An irregular transaction through which the citizen may get his money's worth of service from the government. REPRINTED COLUMNS (pages 7-12) * Stealing an Election (December 12, 2000) http://www.sobran.com/columns/001212.shtml * How Washington Thinks (December 21, 2000) http://www.sobran.com/columns/001221.shtml * Memoirs of a Heretic (December 26, 2000) http://www.sobran.com/columns/001226.shtml * Free Virginia! (December 28, 2000) http://www.sobran.com/columns/001228.shtml * Money and Morality (January 2, 2001) http://www.sobran.com/columns/010102.shtml * Christ the Culprit? (January 4, 2001, 2000) http://www.sobran.com/columns/010104.shtml And an appendix (exclusive to the electronic edition): * (December 19, 2000) http://www.sobran.com/columns/001219.shtml ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ All articles are written by Joe Sobran You may forward this newsletter if you include the following subscription and copyright information: Subscribe to the Sobran E-Package. See http://www.sobran.com/e-mail.shtml or http://www.griffnews.com for details and samples or call 800-513-5053. Copyright (c) 2001 by the Griffin Internet Syndicate, www.griffnews.com. All rights reserved. [ENDS]