Building a Culture of Character by Matthew Spalding, Ph.D., Don Eberly, Samuel Gregg, and Joseph Loconte Heritage Lecture #755 August 6, 2002 | | Character and the Destiny of Free Government Matthew Spalding The remarkable generation that built this great nation led a daring revolution against the strongest military power in the world. They declared American independence based on self-evident truths, asserted a new ground of political rule in the sovereignty of the people, and launched an experiment in self-government. Through a carefully written constitution that limits power and secures rights while allowing for change through its own amendment, they created an enduring framework of republican government that allows their posterity to enjoy the many blessings of liberty. Yet for all of their accomplishments, they could not guarantee the success of their handiwork. As he departed the Constitutional Convention, Benjamin Franklin was asked if the framers had created a monarchy or a republic. "A republic," he famously replied, "if you can keep it." In the end, Franklin and the other founders knew full well that it would always be up to future generations to keep alive what they had created. "The preservation of the sacred fire of liberty, and the destiny of the republican model of government," George Washington observed in his First Inaugural Address, "are justly considered as deeply, perhaps as finally, staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people." The success of the American experiment in self-government ultimately depended not on the precision of our laws, the strength of our economy, or the extent of our military power but on the character of our citizenry. The American Founders knew that one of the greatest bulwarks of our character as a self-governing people is our limited government. Limited government is necessary to protect liberty and what we today call civil society, what President Bush has called our communities of character--families, churches, volunteer organizations, schools. But they also knew, following political thinkers back to Plato and Aristotle, that law played a key role in the formation of character, as it shaped the habits and mores of citizens. As a result, although they recognized the need for government to take account of man's self-interest and not rely too much on virtue, they designed laws that would encourage certain virtues and good habits of government. Consider the Constitution. The separation of powers and the system of checks and balances thwarts governmental despotism and promotes responsibility in public representatives. The legitimate constitutional amendment process allows democratic reform at the same time that it elevates the document above the popular passions of the moment, thereby encouraging deliberation and patience in the people. The law inspires caution and encourages mutual checks in our representatives and thereby confines them to their constitutional responsibilities and prevents a spirit of encroachment by government. The people learn from the law-making process to curb their own passions for immediate political change and abide by the legitimate legal process. The demands of good public policy cause the people to be moderate and circumspect. Good opinions in the people, and good government, have a complementary effect on politics. Nevertheless, the Founders did not believe that the new institutional arrangements were sufficient by themselves to define and maintain the type of character necessary for republican government. They knew that a constitution, no matter how well constructed, did not remove the need for good citizens and sound morals. At the end of the American Revolution, James Madison wrote for Congress an Address to the States that concludes with a warning that still rings true: [T]he citizens of the United States are responsible for the greatest trust ever confided to a political society. If justice, good faith, honor, gratitude and all the other qualities which ennoble the character of a nation and fulfill the ends of government be the fruits of our establishments, the cause of liberty will acquire a dignity and lustre, which it has never yet enjoyed, and an example will be set, which cannot but have the most favourable influence on the rights of Mankind. If on the other side, our governments should be unfortunately blotted with the reverse of these cardinal virtues, the great cause which we have engaged to vindicate, will be dishonored and betrayed; the last and fairest experiment in favor of the rights of human nature will be turned against them; and their patrons and friends exposed to be insulted and silenced by the votaries of tyranny and usurpation. Hence Franklin's second clause: a republic, if you can keep it. Republican government was possible only if the private virtues needed for civil society and self-government remained strong and effective. The civic responsibility and moderation of public passion also requires the moderation of private passion through the encouragement of individual morality. And the best way to encourage morality is through the flourishing of religion and the establishment of traditional moral habits. "Of all the disposition and habits which lead to political prosperity," Washington wrote in his Farewell Address, "Religion and morality are indispensable supports." Religion and morality aid good government by teaching men their moral obligations and creating the conditions for decent political life. Thomas Jefferson, the great defender of rights and liberty, put it bluntly when he said that the American people "are inherently independent of all but the moral law." And when it came to politics proper, the demands of character are all the more challenging. George Washington, in his First Inaugural address, argued that the constitutional arrangements of republican government depended on virtue and character in the people in general and in our leaders in particular. Making only a passing reference to the Constitution, Washington focused instead on "the talents, the rectitude, and the patriotism"--that is, the character--of those selected to devise and adopt the laws. It is here--and not in the institutional arrangements or measures themselves--that he saw the "surest pledges" of wise policy. The individual character of the representative was the best guarantee that "the foundation of our national policy will be laid in the pure and immutable principles of private morality." The simple lesson is that there was no radical distinction--as there is today--between private morality and public character. These realms, private and public, are fundamentally connected and intertwined. Only if we can govern ourselves--restraining our individual passions and wants--can we as a people be capable of self-government. Moral character--understood as the ability to restrain the passions and maintain good habits--is necessary for the preservation of free government, and hence the safety and happiness of the American people. It is this sense that self-government and the governing of one's own passions necessarily precedes free government. At the same time, civil society requires free government (by which I mean the political process by which equal citizens rule and are ruled in turn) because it not only allows and encourages but also provides the stage for and spotlights the fully developed moral character. It is in the nature of man to be political, which is to say that the rational and communicative nature of man requires relationships with others--from families and friendships to active participation in the political community--for the perfection of the human virtues. But it is the connection between limited, constitutional government and a thriving civil society that is key. Each needs the other, and neither can survive on its own. Together--and only together--is one able to build, or in our case rebuild, a culture of character. This understanding of things, which is encapsulated in the Declaration of Independence, generally held from the time of the Founding through the 19th century. It was toward the end of the 19th century, during what is referred to as the Progressive Era, that it was replaced by a different view. In the minds of the new thinkers this shift marked the end of the old order and the birth of a new republic. The Constitution was alleged to be a reactionary document designed to thwart democratic principles and opinion; the progressives wanted to reinvent the old Constitution as "a living document" capable of change, growth, and adaptation. Their objective was to transform the old constitutional system into a genuine democratic instrument of liberal social reform. What does this have to do with the question of character? The shift from a constitutional system of limited government to an administrative system for the sake of progressive social policy also entails a shift from an emphasis on the moral character of individual citizens to the evolving ideals of the social community. In the old system, character was needed to moderate the passions of human nature and dampen their influence, thereby allowing for deliberate self-government and the thriving of civil society. But with the new system, there is little concern with moral character and little worry about emancipating the passions. This is for two reasons. First, progressive liberalism is built upon the philosophy of moral relativism and thus rejects distinctions between good and bad; the moral virtues--those habits and perfections that implied a distinction between virtue and vice, right and wrong--are relegated to the realm of private opinion and personal values. And second, the problems caused by "bad character" are to be solved--or more precisely overcome--by more democracy, more progress, and more government. It is no longer the purpose of government to restrain the passions and secure unalienable natural rights. Free government comes to mean the value-free pursuit of self-realization, and the new purpose of government is to assure an even expanding notion to civil rights and government entitlements. The progressive argument in favor of replacing the old order (including the old morality) with a liberal state oriented toward social progress has been overwhelmingly successful, and has transformed our politics and our character. Governing has become obscure, incomprehensible, and at the same time petty and small-minded, inviting and encouraging interest groups instead of deliberation and responsibility. The current system encourages habits and forms a character incompatible with republican government by feeding entitlements rather than checking the narrowest passions of self-interest. More important is the effect the new view has had on our understanding of moral character. According to the new version, an unbreachable wall separates private character (which is personal, and value-laden) and public character (which is political, and socially oriented). And there are new value-neutral virtues, such as toleration, empathy, and sincerity. There is a deeper problem as well. Not only does progressive liberalism deny a substantive role for morality in public life, but the extended reach of the state has forced traditional morality--the ground of the old idea of character--into a smaller and smaller private sphere. The sharp distinction between public and private, accompanied by the expansion of the governmental sphere points toward the privatization of morality. If all values are relative, and freedom now means liberation of the human will, it is hard to see any restraints on individual choice. The effect that this combination of things has had on education, religion, and the family--with the rise of illegitimacy and the breakdown of marriage--has been devastating. All is not despair, however. There is reason for some optimism. Gertrude Himmelfarb and Charles Murray--our greatest social observers, who have been skeptical about our accomplishments to date in effecting moral recovery--both point to fragmentary evidence of moral improvement. Murray, for example, has pointed to what he calls "the partial restoration of traditional society" --that is, the return to traditional moral viewpoints that began to be rejected in the 1960s. Specifically, he has called attention to evidence pointing to a rise in educational standards, the onset of a religious revival, and a return to traditional sexual and marital behaviors. Himmelfarb agrees that a reaction is taking place against what she regards as the "dominant ethos" of moral permissiveness. And the reaction--the return toward more traditional, less permissive morality--is taking place "among young people who will shape the culture of the future." The revival of a culture of character is assuredly the greatest task we face today. Looking ahead, if we wish to proactively rebuild a culture of character and not merely wait for trends to turn our way, we must reject the core principles and moral relativism of progressive liberalism. We must also restore the argument of the American Founders that it takes both the workings of limited government and the proper dispositions and habits of the people to form good government and good character. This means that we must break down the administrative state so as to rebuild constitutional government, on the one hand, and actively encourage the revival of the true institutions of civil society--families, churches, and schools--so as to rebuild the moral character of our citizens, on the other. Although it was at a terrible cost, the events of September 11 dealt a significant blow to the philosophy of moral relativism. It is hard to deny that there is evil in the world, and that there is good. Perhaps this moment of resolve can be transformed into a new era of responsibility and the revival of the American character. We must never forget, especially at times like these, that the "preservation of the sacred fire of liberty, and the destiny of the republican model of government," as Washington reminds us, are staked on the experiment entrusted to our hands. How we proceed, as a people and as a nation, will largely determine our future and the fate of free government. Matthew Spalding is the director of the B. Kenneth Simon Center for American Studies at The Heritage Foundation. The Role of Civil Society in shaping Character Don Eberly I think we're making a certain amount of headway in helping people understand again the animating first political principles of the American experiment. I don't know that we have made much headway in helping them appreciate the role that sentiments and mores and attitudes and habits had in the design of our Founders. In their minds it was not just important that we had a constitutional government; it was very, very important in their eyes that we had, and should continue to have, a thriving civil society focused on human freedom. But that freedom was understood to be fairly narrow. It wasn't something that came easy, and it took a tremendous amount of work. It was not a matter of debate during that time period: freedom required character and virtue. Hence, the famous reply of Benjamin Franklin: "A republic, if you can keep it." Now there's a message we should take to our generation. Wherever you're coming from politically in America, I think it's fair to say that people do care about freedom. But I think we ought to start talking about the demands and the obligations and the personal responsibilities that are required to preserve freedom. We must create, or perhaps we should say recreate, a culture of character. John Adams once said that the Constitution was made for a moral and religious people and is wholly inadequate for any other. The question for our time is not only how do you sustain character but also how do you recover it if it is lost? From the very first American settlement, this work of maintaining character was done--and I maintain that the work of recovering this character will be done--by civil society. America succeeded early on because it created a culture that expected, encouraged, and rewarded virtue and character. Indeed, the first institutions built on the frontier after the land was cleared were schools and churches. Mary Ann Glendon of Harvard often says that if history teaches us anything, it is that American constitutional government cannot be taken for granted. Our political order is dependent upon conditions that are more or less cultural in nature, having to do mostly with character. If we're concerned about character--and we certainly are--we must take a deep interest in character-shaping institutions. Character is not something simply that we inhale from the air. It is not something that we teach; it's not just about pedagogy. Character must be cultivated through formative institutions. In fact, if we had time we could get into research on early child development having to do with conscience formation. We as a society are obsessed with freedom of conscience but we have very little idea about the cultivation of conscience. Conscience formation, for example, which requires real institutions to be functioning. Families. Fathers. Functioning schools. Places of worship. Neighborhood groups that care about safety and order and standards. Role models and moral exemplars in the culture and so on. Alexis de Tocqueville is the person among many observers of American life who really did understand exactly the unique moral principles of America, the founding generation, and how they would be or were being, during his period of observation, carried forward on the American scene. He was also a great student of social history. His great observation was that Americans of all ages, all stages in life, and all types of dispositions are forever forming associations of a thousand different types: religious, moral, serious, futile, very general, very limited, immensely large, and very minute. Americans combined to found seminaries, build churches, distribute books. (He was even imagining at the time the Heritage Foundation being built someday!) Hospitals, prisons, and schools took shape this way. If they wanted to proclaim a truth or propagate some feeling by the encouragement of a great example, Americans formed an association. These associations, Tocqueville argued, were absolutely indispensable. All other forms of social and political progress depended upon these unique voluntary associations not only because they served to meet thousands of local practical and charitable needs and help moralize communities when such activity was encouraged, but also because they were little schools of citizenship, and thus helped in the formation of our democratic character. It was in the forming of voluntary associations that we developed our civic habits and defined our character. This is an idea that Tocqueville borrowed in part at least from Edmund Burke, who said that the "little platoon" which we belong to in society is the first link in the chain by which we proceed toward a love of our country and of mankind generally. We start with our love and our loyalty to the little platoon, out of which grows our sense of service and our sense of duty toward persons in the immediate sphere of our lives--such as our own families and in our neighborhoods and local communities. This sense of duty extends to the love of mankind and love of country. These little associations and institutions literally cultivate the kind of habits and sentiments that I think the American Founders were talking about. Burke went on to say that these subdivisions are actually partnerships, not just between those who are living but between those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are yet to come. They are the spiritual, moral, and political communities--the little transmission belts, if you will--that are absolutely essential to the preservation of our system. I want to be practical about this. Far from being anti-politics, I understand politics as a very noble calling. Citizenship entails important formal political responsibilities. But in a well-ordered society, the lawmaking function is peripheral to much of the pulsing life of society. Too many in our generation have assumed that to improve society, one must first turn to politics, meaning parties, interest groups, coalitions, and the lawmaking process. I recognize that this is part of the answer. But if the big issues of our time have to do with values, attitudes, habits, and beliefs, we will be more concerned about the shape of our character-shaping institutions. In regard to the institutions of civil society, government should concern itself mostly with doing no harm, and where appropriate, empowering other non-governmental institutions to do their jobs better. In my opinion, the greatest model of how civil society can be brought to bear upon one of the most difficult political problems of the time can be seen in the example of William Wilberforce, the British Member of Parliament who successfully campaigned over the course of 40 years to fully eradicate the slave trade. At the time, the slave trade traversed the globe and was as large as today's defense industry. It was ferociously defended by numerous economic sectors that profited from it and permitted by the general moral laxity of the time. The times were characterized by high rates of crime, drunkenness, and general disregard for standards. Public confidence in laws was at an all-time low, and there was widespread political corruption. Wilberforce knew that government action against slavery was impossible short of a massive shift in the moral attitudes and habits of the people, so he set forth two great objects: reforming the manners and morals of the people and abolishing the slave trade. A strategy for reformation that started with lawmaking was guaranteed to fail. Wilberforce was merely acknowledging what others in history had observed. Law has an instructive and very influential role in the course of a culture, but laws to a very large extent are a reflection of the culture. Law, in the end, is downstream from the culture. When the mores shift, the laws almost inevitably shift along with them. Edmund Burke said that manners are more important than laws because upon manners in great measure the laws depend. Plato said, give me the songs of a nation--it matters not who writes the laws. We must conclude, as Wilberforce concluded, that if we are going to change law, we must go upstream to the tributaries of moral beliefs and conduct. In doing so we must understand that this work will not be done by the state but will be done by various voluntary associations within civil society. Over the course of three decades, William Wilberforce personally founded and participated in as many as 67 voluntary associations aimed at the reform of manners and morals. It was his work and the work of those like him that resulted in one of the most dynamic chapters in the history of voluntary reform societies. The President in his campaign declared his desire to bring about changes in social policy grounded in the idea that, in dealing with poverty, we ought to go first to the neighborhood healers. We ought to learn first from those front-line anti-poverty workers who understand how to treat the poor--body, mind, and soul--and who understand how to use neighborhood-based solutions. These people understand that to experience genuine transformation, individuals must be restored as persons and restored once again in relationship to their family, neighborhood, community, and places of worship. Our goal is to reverse the pattern of the prior half century, moving away from the top-down rule-driven bureaucratic approach to one that actually learns from, and is instructed by, and which seeks to capture these transforming elements in the communities of America. The Administration is now involved in the early stages of a major overhaul of how we promote international economic development by developing the fruits of civil society in other countries. For too long, our policies abroad were yielding the same failed dependency-producing results that our policies at home had been producing. Just two weeks ago the President unveiled something called the Millennium Compact, which will bring dramatically new terms and conditions for our programs abroad. First of all, we will withdraw aid from governments that are corrupt and simply refuse to reform themselves. In all too many cases, our own policies perpetuate rather than reverse corruption, and this is a very, very serious problem. We must also link economic progress to democratization and good governance. Our policies should encourage prosperity by increased trade, open markets, increased direct private investment, and expanded entrepreneurship, but they must also advocate American democratic values, the rule of law, open and accountable government, and human rights. In order to do this we need to bypass bureaucracies and international technocrats and work with citizens and local community-building groups--including faith-based organizations--to build local capacity around the world, shifting our emphasis away from what we can do for people to what people can and want to do for themselves. We must treat people as partners in their own development. Every person, every community and every country has untapped capacity--and transformative powers. The rule of voluntary associations must guide our thinking as we look at social policy today, both at home and abroad. American history is filled with remarkable success stories, and this heritage of voluntary action offers important insights into how we might promote cultural renewal. Private voluntary organizations form the very basis of America's remarkable capacity to renew itself. Our policy should be to unleash that capacity to renew our country and revive freedom around the world. Don Eberly is Senior Counselor for International Civil Society at the U.S. Agency for International Development. Liberty and Moral Ecology: The Nexus of Truth Samuel Gregg When it comes to reflecting upon questions such as culture and its implications for the political order, most contemporary commentators continue to be dwarfed by the perennial genius of the 19th century philosopher and French Catholic aristocrat, Count Alexis de Tocqueville. For much of the 20th century, the unique insight of Tocqueville into the importance of culture for a free society was overshadowed by those three great masters of the hermeneutics of suspicion: Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche, and Sigmund Freud. In more recent years, however, more have begun to recognize that those who are genuinely interested in seeing freedom prevail would be wise to look to Tocqueville's writings on American democracy as well as his reflections on ancien régime France. In these works, we find more than just a sophisticated analysis of the particular problems confronting two quite different societies. Instead, we begin to recognize that it is culture rather than economics that will determine whether freedom will prevail or wither, for, as Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger of Paris once observed, it is culture rather than economics that rules the world.1 Perhaps the most telling evidence of the centrality of culture for a free society is provided by those societies that, for many years, were decidedly unfree. Between 1933 and 1939, Germany's moral culture was transformed from one profoundly marked by a Judeo-Christian ethic to one in which there was relatively little resistance to attempts to exterminate entire categories of people. The fact that German law actually forbade many of the actions of the Nazi regime--ranging from its deadly euthanasia and eugenics programs, to the infamous 1941 Commissar order, to the moral catastrophe of Auschwitz--did little to prevent the regime from pursuing such policies. The slow but gradual changes in the moral-cultural environment in which Germans moved, lived, and had their being made real the possibility of such barbarism.2 Likewise, we know that 70 years of Communism profoundly affected the moral ecology of many European nations. For the most damaging aspect of Communism was not economic. It was not even political. Instead, the greatest damage was moral. How do we know this? Part of the answer lies in reflecting upon some of the mistaken presumptions of those Westerners who traveled to Eastern Europe in the early 1990s, confident that the road to the free society lay in the rapid privatizing of industries, the protection of private property, and the establishment of rule of law. In hindsight, we now know that such ideas reflected a certain blindness to Communism's damage to the moral ecology of these nations. The establishment of rule of law, private property, and market exchange are part of the way to the free society. But they cannot and do not suffice in themselves. Indeed, in several former Communist countries, it is not the free economy that reigns, but rather the black market. The rule of law is routinely flouted, organized crime flourishes, and private property rights remain uncertain. In no way can these be called free societies. They border, in fact, upon being kleptocracies. The question thus arises: How do we develop a moral ecology appropriate for a free society? Do we simply expect it to evolve spontaneously from nowhere, or is a more pro-active role needed? To finish reading this article: http://www.heritage.org/Research/PoliticalPhilosophy/HL755.cfm © 1995 - 2004 The Heritage Foundation