“A wise and frugal government, which shall leave men free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned — this is the sum of good government.”
–Thomas Jefferson
September 16, 2024 – Let’s see. Remember the promises last fall before the primary season even began? The year 2024 was the year when “the runaway US budget deficit was supposed to gradually normalize, and after two crisis-years, the US was supposed to end its drunken sailor spending ways.”
That didn’t happen.
This did: On September 12 the Treasury Department announced August deficit numbers and showed the interest on the national debt has officially crossed $1 Trillion. Our friends at ZeroHedge put it this way (providing a slew of staggering charts for effect):
August budget deficit of a staggering $380 billion, up more than 50% from the $243 billion in July, and up more than 55% from July, and up 66% from last August… oh, and almost $100 billion more than the median estimate of $292.5 billion, which may be why the Treasury quietly snuck the number out by leaking it after 5am ET when everyone was sleeping, not at its regular time of 2pm ET.
Below, Douglas Murray writing for the Free Press reminds us what’s at stake if we continue to keep talking about pets being eaten in Springfield, Ohio and ignore the elephant in the room threatening to trample our future asunder. Enjoy ~~ Addison
Things Worth Remembering: The Imperfection of America
Douglas Murray, The Free Press
Readers may not know that it was on September 15, that the wording of the American Constitution was at last agreed upon. Accord had been a long time coming.
The year was 1787, it had been almost half a decade since the British had granted the United States independence, and the Founding Fathers had been negotiating for three months over the finer points of the document.
It would be another two days before these men officially signed it—hence why we mark Constitution Day on September 17, this coming Tuesday (tomorrow).
This final ritual took place in a closed room at Pennsylvania’s State House, in Philadelphia, now known as Independence Hall. It is less than a ten minute walk from where presidential candidates Donald Trump and Kamala Harris debated Tuesday, in a building named for the American government’s ultimate law: the National Constitution Center.
In these polarized times, readers will be unsurprised to learn that the men who gave us America have fallen rather out of fashion. A few years ago, a poll found that whereas 63 percent of voters said they viewed the Founding Fathers as heroes, among the under-thirties that figure shrank to 39 percent. Meanwhile, fully 31 percent of U.S. voters under 30 said that they saw the Founders as “villains.” Perhaps we should expect nothing less of an age in which Winston Churchill must be defended against claims that he was the “chief villain” of World War II.
It is worth reminding ourselves, then, of the heroism of the men who took up arms, and then quills, to birth this nation. Which brings us back to September 17, 1787. As the final day of this Constitutional Convention began, the document was read aloud one last time. Then came the remarks of its oldest signatory.
Benjamin Franklin was 81 years old—incidentally, the very same age as Joe Biden is today. He was too frail to speak before the Convention himself, so he passed what he had written to James Wilson, another Pennsylvanian, who read it for him. This would be Franklin’s final speech.
Formally addressed to George Washington, it was, of course, aimed at the holdouts, the critics: those who would make the perfect the enemy of the good. Franklin knew that even at this stage there were delegates who would refuse to sign. He himself had some significant disagreements with the document as it stood, but in his speech he addressed this in the most generous and compromising fashion imaginable.
“I confess that I do not entirely approve of this Constitution at present, but Sir, I am not sure I shall never approve it: For having lived long, I have experienced many Instances of being oblig’d, by better Information or fuller Consideration, to change Opinions even on important Subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise.”
That is a very fine way to bring people round to your point of view: to point out that you, yourself, are not as adamant as you might be. At twice the age of most of the delegates in the hall, Franklin imparted the wisdom of a man who has seen times, and so many minds, change. He understood that the desire to be always correct is a timeless one, and not only an error of men but an error of religions. As he charmingly puts it: “The Romish Church is infallible, and the Church of England is never in the Wrong.”
Franklin’s point is that no man could ever agree with every point in a Constitution that has been put together with many other men. After all, “when you assemble a Number of Men to have the Advantage of their joint Wisdom, you inevitably assemble with those Men all their Prejudices, their Passions, their Errors of Opinion, their local Interests, and their selfish Views. From such an Assembly can a perfect Production be expected?”
One would almost think Franklin was about to throw in the towel, refuse to sign, give up on the product of so many months of chaotic debate, so many competing claims. But what follows is a magnificent piece of oratory, and of reasoning, presenting as it does an almost evangelical case for political pragmatism:
“It therefore astonishes me, Sir, to find this System approaching so near to Perfection as it does; and I think it will astonish our Enemies, who are waiting with Confidence to hear that our Councils are confounded, like those of the Builders of Babel, and that our States are on the Point of Separation, only to meet hereafter for the Purpose of cutting one another’s Throats. Thus I consent, Sir, to this Constitution because I expect no better, and because I am not sure that it is not the best.
“The Opinions I have had of its Errors, I sacrifice to the Public Good. I have never whisper’d a Syllable of them abroad. Within these Walls they were born, & here they shall die. If every one of us in returning to our Constituents were to report the Objections he has had to it, and endeavour to gain Partizans in support of them, we might prevent its being generally received. . .
“Much of the Strength and Efficiency of any Government, in procuring & securing Happiness to the People depends on Opinion, on the general Opinion of the Goodness of that Government as well as of the Wisdom & Integrity of its Governors. I hope therefore that for our own Sakes, as a Part of the People, and for the Sake of our Posterity, we shall act heartily & unanimously in recommending this Constitution, wherever our Influence may extend, and turn our future Thoughts and Endeavours to the Means of having it well administred.
“On the whole, Sir, I cannot help expressing a Wish, that every Member of the Convention, who may still have Objections to it, would with me on this Occasion doubt a little of his own Infallibility, and to make manifest our Unanimity, put his Name to this Instrument.”
Perhaps the young voters who see Franklin as a villain might doubt a little of their own infallibility. We may hope that they will not need to live as long as he in order to realize that there are many instances in life when we may be obliged to change opinions, to unite with those whose perspective one may not share. This is the essence of politics, at least in a democracy.
In his speech, Franklin argued that the Constitution would last unless—or until—“the people shall become so corrupted as to need despotic government, being incapable of any other.”
After his remarkable speech was given—and after the Constitution was signed—Elizabeth Willing Powel is said to have asked Franklin, “Well Doctor, what have we got—a republic or a monarch?”
To which he replied, “A republic, if you can keep it.” ~~Douglas Murray, The Free Press
Debt is the one thing the Republic cannot afford… or avoid.
So it goes,
Addison Wiggin,
Grey Swan
P.S. I remember having lunch with James Dale Davidson in late 2003 at the Maryland Club a block away from our offices in Mt. Vernon, Baltimore. We were discussing a new venture he was trying to get funded.
I’d known Jim for over a decade at that point and had been his publisher for several years. He wanted to start a new project dedicated to disruptive technologies… a far cry from the sharp political critique he’d been offering in his foundational newsletter Strategic Investment since 1984.
“Why the pivot?” I asked to get the conversation rolling.
“I’ve spent the balance of my adult life,” Jim responded with a sigh, “publicly trying to avert national bankruptcy. Now, I see it has been a fool’s errand.”
Jim had founded the National Taxpayers Union among other successful public advocacy efforts through the years. He was also the author with Lord William Rees-Mogg of three New Times bestsellers on the subject.
Mr. Davidson had resigned himself to a different endeavor. He wanted to spend the rest of his productive time on this old spinning ball exploring the impact of new technologies on the economy and how it can help him build personal wealth… and forget politics altogether.
