Thoughts on the Present State of American Affairs, 3

Second. Even the best terms we could hope to obtain would amount to no more than a temporary expedient: a kind of guardianship that could last only until the colonies come of age. Meanwhile, the whole state of affairs would remain unsettled and unpromising. People with property to bring would not choose to settle in a country whose government hangs by a thread and teeters each day on the verge of disorder and upheaval. And many who live here now would seize the interval to dispose of their possessions and leave the continent.

But the strongest argument of all is that nothing but independence—that is, a continental government—can preserve peace on this continent and keep it free of civil war. I dread what would follow reconciliation with Britain now, for a revolt would very probably break out somewhere, with consequences perhaps far more deadly than anything Britain's malice could bring upon us.

Thousands have already been ruined by British brutality, and thousands more will probably meet the same fate. Those men feel differently from those of us who have suffered nothing. Liberty is all they have left: everything they once enjoyed has been sacrificed in its service, and, with nothing more to lose, they scorn submission. Besides, the colonies' general attitude toward British government will resemble that of a young apprentice almost free of his term of service: they will care very little for it. A government unable to preserve the peace is no government at all; we would be paying our money for nothing. And if civil unrest broke out the very day after reconciliation, what could Britain do, with authority that existed only on paper? I have heard men say, many of them without thinking, that they dread independence for fear it will bring civil war. First thoughts are seldom altogether sound, and this one is not. A patched-up bond gives us ten times more reason to fear civil war than independence does. I put myself in the place of those who have suffered, and I declare that if I had been driven from my home, my property destroyed, and my livelihood ruined, I could never, as a man conscious of the wrongs done to him, welcome reconciliation or consider myself bound by it.

On America's Present Capacity, with Some Miscellaneous Reflections.

The colonies have shown such a spirit of good order and obedience to continental government that any reasonable person can feel confident and content on that score. No one can give even a plausible reason for fearing otherwise, except one that is childish and absurd: the notion that one colony will seek supremacy over another.

Where there are no distinctions, there can be no supremacy; complete equality offers no temptation. The republics of Europe are all at peace, and, we might say, always have been. Holland and Switzerland are free of wars, foreign and domestic. Monarchies, it is true, seldom remain at peace for long. The crown itself tempts ambitious ruffians at home; the pride and arrogance that always attend royal power provoke conflict with foreign states where a republic, founded on more natural principles, would resolve the misunderstanding through negotiation.

If there is any genuine reason to fear independence, it is that no plan for it has yet been set out. People cannot see the way forward. So, to open the discussion, I offer these suggestions, while modestly affirming that I value them only insofar as they may help bring forth something better. If the scattered thoughts of individuals could be gathered together, they would often provide material for wise and capable people to shape into something useful.

Let the assemblies meet annually and have only a president. Let representation be more equal. Let their business be entirely domestic and subject to the authority of a Continental Congress.

Let each colony be divided into six, eight, or ten convenient districts, each sending a suitable number of delegates to Congress, so that every colony sends at least thirty. Congress as a whole would have at least 390 members. Let every new Congress convene and choose a president as follows. Once the delegates have assembled, select one of the thirteen colonies by lot. Then let the full Congress choose, by ballot, a president from among that colony's delegates. At the next Congress, draw a lot from only twelve colonies, leaving out the one that furnished the previous president; continue until all thirteen have taken their proper turn. And to ensure that no measure becomes law unless it is satisfactorily just, let no fewer than three fifths of Congress constitute a majority. Anyone who stirs up discord under a government so equally constituted would have joined Lucifer in his rebellion.

But there is a particular difficulty in deciding from whom, and in what manner, this project should first arise. It seems most fitting and consistent that it should come from a body standing between those who govern and those who are governed—that is, between Congress and the people. Let us therefore hold a Continental Conference, organized as follows and for the following purpose.

Let there be a committee of twenty-six members of Congress, two from each colony; two members from each House of Assembly or Provincial Convention; and five representatives of the people at large from each province. These five should be chosen in the province's capital city or town, on behalf of the whole province, by as many eligible voters from all parts of the province as wish to attend for that purpose. If more convenient, the representatives may instead be chosen in two or three of its most populous districts. In a conference assembled this way, the two great necessities for action—knowledge and power—will be joined. Members of Congress, Assemblies, or Conventions will offer valuable counsel drawn from their experience in national affairs; and because the people authorize the whole body, it will have genuinely lawful authority.

Once the members of the conference have assembled, let them draw up a Continental Charter, or Charter of the United Colonies, corresponding to what England calls the Magna Charta. Let it fix the number of members of Congress and of the Assemblies, the methods of choosing them, and the dates when they sit; let it define the division of business and jurisdiction between them, always remembering that our strength is continental, not provincial. Let it secure liberty and property for all, and above all the free exercise of religion according to conscience, together with whatever else a charter must contain. Then let the Conference dissolve at once, and let the bodies elected in accordance with the charter be the legislators and governors of this continent for the time being. May God preserve its peace and happiness. Amen.

If any body of men is later appointed for this or a similar purpose, I offer them these words from Dragonetti, that wise observer of governments. “The politician's science,” he says, “consists in determining the true point of happiness and freedom. Those who discovered a form of government offering the greatest sum of individual happiness at the least expense to the nation would deserve the gratitude of generations.”

Dragonetti on Virtue and Rewards.

But where, some will ask, is the king of America? I will tell you, friend: he reigns above and does not ravage humanity like Britain's royal brute. Yet so that we may not appear deficient even in earthly honors, let us set aside a solemn day to proclaim the charter. Let it be brought forth and laid upon the divine law, the word of God; and let a crown be placed upon it, so the world may know that insofar as we approve of monarchy, in America the law is king. For just as the king is law under absolute governments, so under free governments the law must be king, and there must be no other. But to prevent any later abuse, let the crown be destroyed at the close of the ceremony and its pieces scattered among the people, to whom it rightfully belongs.

A government of our own is our natural right. Anyone who seriously considers how uncertain human affairs are will see that it is immeasurably wiser and safer to frame our own constitution calmly and deliberately, while we can, than to entrust so momentous a matter to time and chance. If we let this moment pass, another Massanello may arise: seizing upon popular unrest, he could gather the desperate and discontented and, by claiming the powers of government for himself and his followers, sweep away the continent's liberties like a flood. If government in America passes back into Britain's hands, the instability of affairs will tempt some desperate adventurer to try his luck. What help could Britain offer then? Before she could even receive the news, the disaster might be complete, and we might suffer like the wretched Britons under the oppression of the Conqueror. You who oppose independence now do not know what you are doing. By leaving the seat of government vacant, you are opening the door to endless tyranny. There are thousands, and tens of thousands, who would consider it glorious to expel from this continent that barbarous and hellish power which has incited Indians and Negroes to destroy us. Its cruelty bears a double guilt: it treats us brutally and them treacherously.

Thomas Anello, also called Massanello, was a fisherman of Naples. After rousing his countrymen in the public marketplace against the oppression of the Spaniards, who then ruled the place, he urged them to revolt and became king in the space of a day.

To speak of friendship with those whom reason forbids us to trust, and whom affections wounded in a thousand places teach us to detest, is madness and folly. Each day wears away what little kinship remains between us and them. Can there be any reason to hope that affection will increase as the relationship disappears, or that we shall agree more readily when we have ten times as many disputes, and graver ones than ever before?

You who promise harmony and reconciliation, can you restore the past to us? Can you restore innocence to prostitution? No more can you reconcile Britain and America. The last cord has broken; the people of England are sending addresses against us. Some injuries nature cannot forgive; if she did, she would cease to be nature. The continent could as readily forgive Britain's murders as a lover could forgive the man who raped his beloved. The Almighty planted these indelible feelings in us for wise and good reasons. They guard his image in our hearts. They distinguish us from ordinary animals. If we were numb to the stirrings of affection, the bond of society would dissolve, and justice would vanish from the earth or survive only by chance. Robbers and murderers would often go unpunished if the wounds we feel did not move us to seek justice.

O you who love humanity! You who dare resist not only tyranny but the tyrant, come forward! Every corner of the old world is overrun by oppression. Freedom has been hunted around the globe. Asia and Africa expelled her long ago; Europe regards her as a stranger, and England has ordered her to leave. Receive the fugitive, and prepare in time a refuge for humankind.

Second, even the best terms we could hope to obtain would be only a temporary fix. They would amount to government under a guardian, lasting only until the colonies come of age. In the meantime, affairs would remain unstable, with little hope for improvement. People with property would not want to move to a country whose government hangs by a thread and could fall into disorder any day. Many current inhabitants would use the interval to sell their possessions and leave the continent.

But the strongest argument is that only independence, meaning a continental government, can keep peace across the continent and protect it from civil wars. I fear what will happen if we reconcile with Britain now. A revolt somewhere is more than likely to follow, and its consequences could be more deadly than anything Britain might do to us.

British brutality has already ruined thousands of people, and thousands more will probably suffer the same fate. Those people feel differently from those of us who have suffered nothing. All they still possess is freedom. Everything else they once enjoyed has been sacrificed in its cause, and with nothing more to lose they refuse to submit. Besides, the colonies will feel about British rule much as an apprentice nearing the end of his term feels about his master. They will care little about Britain. A government that cannot keep the peace is no government at all. We would be paying it for nothing. And what could Britain do if civil unrest broke out the very day after reconciliation, when its authority would exist only on paper? I have heard some people say they feared independence because it would lead to civil wars. Many of them, I think, spoke without thinking. Our first thoughts are rarely right, and here they are wrong. A patched-up connection gives us ten times more reason to fear civil war than independence does. I put myself in the place of those who have suffered. If I were driven from my home, my property destroyed, and my livelihood ruined, I would feel those injuries as any person would. I could never welcome reconciliation or believe it obliged me to submit.

On America's Present Ability, with Some Other Reflections

The colonies have shown enough order and willingness to follow the continental government to reassure any reasonable person. No one has even a plausible reason to worry, except for a childish and absurd fear that one colony will try to dominate another.

When there are no distinctions, no one can claim superiority. Complete equality gives no one a reason to seek it. The republics of Europe are all at peace, and, we might say, always are. Holland and Switzerland have neither foreign nor domestic wars. Monarchies, by contrast, never remain peaceful for long. A crown tempts ambitious thugs at home. The pride and arrogance that come with royal power also turn disagreements with other countries into wars. A republic, built on more natural principles, would settle those disagreements by negotiation.

If there is a real reason to fear independence, it is that we have no plan for it yet. People cannot see a way forward. So I offer these suggestions as a way to begin. I say modestly that I value them mainly because they may lead someone to better ideas. If we could collect the scattered thoughts of individuals, wise and capable people could often turn them into something useful.

The assemblies should meet every year and have only a president. Representation should be more equal. They should deal solely with local affairs and be subject to the authority of a Continental Congress.

Divide each colony into six, eight, or ten manageable districts. Each district should send an appropriate number of delegates to Congress, so each colony sends at least thirty. Congress would then have at least 390 members. At each session, Congress should choose a president in this way. Once the delegates have met, choose one of the thirteen colonies by lot. The entire Congress should then elect a president by ballot from that colony's delegates. At the next session, draw from the remaining twelve colonies, leaving out the one that provided the previous president. Continue until all thirteen have taken their turn. And to make sure no law passes unless it is clearly fair, require at least three fifths of Congress for a majority. Anyone who would stir up conflict under a government organized so fairly would have joined Lucifer's rebellion.

The question of who should first raise this matter, and how, calls for special care. It seems most fitting for the proposal to come from a body between those who govern and those who are governed—that is, between Congress and the people. A Continental Conference should therefore meet, organized and charged as follows.

It should include a committee of twenty-six members of Congress, two from each colony; two members from each House of Assembly or Provincial Convention; and five representatives of the public from each province. Those five should be chosen in the province's capital city or town on behalf of the whole province. Any eligible voters from anywhere in the province who wish to attend should be able to vote. Or, if more convenient, the representatives could be chosen in two or three of the province's most populous places. This conference would bring together the two essentials for action: knowledge and power. Members of Congress, the assemblies, or the conventions would offer useful advice based on their experience with national affairs. As a whole, the conference would have genuine legal authority from the people who empowered it.

When the conference members meet, they should draw up a Continental Charter, or Charter of the United Colonies, like England's Magna Carta. It should specify the number of members of Congress and the assemblies, how they are chosen, and when they meet. It should also define the powers and responsibilities of each body. We must always remember that our strength lies in the continent, not in any one province. The charter should protect everyone's freedom and property and, above all, freedom to practice religion according to conscience. It should also contain whatever else such a charter requires. The conference should then dissolve immediately. The bodies chosen under the charter should become the continent's lawmakers and governors for the time being. May God preserve their peace and happiness. Amen.

If people are later chosen to carry out this task, or a similar one, I offer them these words from Dragonetti, a wise observer of government: “The politician's skill lies in finding the right balance of happiness and freedom. Those who found a way of governing that gave individuals the greatest possible happiness at the lowest cost to the nation would earn the gratitude of future ages.”

Dragonetti, On Virtue and Rewards.

But some ask, where is the King of America? I'll tell you, friend: he rules in heaven and does not slaughter people like Britain's royal brute. Yet we should not seem to lack even earthly honors. Set aside a day to proclaim the charter formally. Bring it out and place it on God's law, the word of God. Put a crown on it so the world knows that, insofar as we approve of monarchy, the law is king in America. In an absolute government the king is law. In a free country the law should be king, and there should be no other. To prevent anyone from later misusing the crown, destroy it at the end of the ceremony and scatter its pieces among the people, to whom it belongs.

Having our own government is our natural right. Anyone who seriously considers how uncertain human affairs are will see that it is far wiser and safer to establish our own constitution calmly and carefully while we can than to leave such an important event to time and chance. If we fail to do it now, a future Massanello might exploit public discontent. He could gather desperate and dissatisfied people, seize the powers of government, and sweep away the continent's freedoms like a flood. If America returns to British rule, its unstable situation will tempt some reckless adventurer to try his luck. What help could Britain give us then? The disaster might be over before Britain even heard about it, leaving us to suffer like the unfortunate Britons under the Conqueror's oppression. Those of you who oppose independence now do not know what you are doing. By leaving the seat of government empty, you open the door to endless tyranny. Thousands and tens of thousands would consider it an honor to drive from this continent the brutal, hellish power that has stirred up Indians and Negroes to destroy us. Its cruelty has two sides: it treats us brutally and betrays them.

Thomas Anello, also known as Massanello, was a fisherman from Naples. He rallied his countrymen in the public marketplace against their Spanish rulers' oppression, urged them to revolt, and became king within a day.

It is madness and folly to talk about friendship with people whom reason tells us not to trust and whom our many wounded feelings tell us to hate. Each day wears away what little family connection remains between us. Why would we expect affection to grow as that connection dies? Why would we get along better when we have ten times as many disputes, and more serious ones, than ever before?

You who speak of harmony and reconciliation: can you bring back the past? Can you restore the innocence a person lost through prostitution? You cannot reconcile Britain and America either. The last tie has broken. The people of England are now sending formal statements against us. Some injuries cannot be forgiven by human nature. If it forgave them, it would cease to be human nature. A lover could no sooner forgive the man who raped his beloved than the continent could forgive Britain's murders. God has put these lasting feelings in us for good and wise reasons. They protect his image in our hearts and distinguish us from other animals. If we felt nothing when those we care about were hurt, the bonds of society would break. Justice would vanish from the earth, or happen only by chance. Robbers and murderers would often go unpunished if the harm they do did not move us to seek justice.

You who love humanity! You who dare to oppose not only tyranny but the tyrant: stand up! Oppression has spread through every part of the old world. Freedom has been hunted around the globe. Asia and Africa drove her out long ago. Europe treats her as a stranger, and England has told her to leave. Take in this refugee, and prepare a refuge for humanity while there is still time.