the father of our country on politics ’96 style

Yes, we know George Washington died on Dec. 14, 1799. But given the state of politics in 1996, a little wisdom from the Father of our Country might be refreshing. So, in order to do this (we don’t believe in channeling, unlike others in Washington), we turned to a scholar. We asked Joyce Appleby, a UCLA history professor, president-elect of the National Historical Society and co-author of “Telling About History”: How do you think Washington would look upon politics in his country more than 220 years after its founding? She provided us with the following transcript.

Ms. Amiable Rogers: Mr. President, you can’t know how thrilled I am that we were able to make contact with you. You know, I can hardly believe that I am talking to you--I mean, your picture’s on the $1 bill and there’s the Washington Monument and all that, so it’s not like you’re a complete stranger. But talking to you, Mr. President, Mr. First President, is the most, I mean, this is an unprecedented interview.

(George Washington nods graciously.)

Ms. R: As you know from my cybercard, I’d really like to talk to you about the election that’s going on in the United States right now. It’s the 53rd race for the presidency since you were elected for the first time in 1788 under the newly ratified Constitution of the United States.

G.W.: Thank you, Ms. Rogers. My memory has not failed me.

Ms. R: I know that you’ve been able to follow this campaign, and I’d like to know what things you think have changed the most. We study you in our American history classes, so I know that you did not have any opponents when you ran for the presidency.

G.W.: “Race,” “ran,” these are terms of politics unfamiliar to me. Indeed, it was gratifying to me that the citizens of the United States gave me their unequivocal endorsement. But you must not patronize us, Ms. R. We drafters of the Constitution knew well that our finest leaders would be ardent contenders for positions of honor and trust.

Ms. R: So the idea of multimillion-dollar campaigns that often boil down to wedge issues does not shock you?

G.W.: My dear young woman, only children and fools can be shocked by the machinations of those in power. They have been the undoing of every republic known to history. Still, that the United States has endured through 53 elections I take as a reflection on the wisdom, if you will excuse me, of the founders and the resilience of our descendants.

Ms. R: Then you think this partisan warfare is OK?

G.W.: (Clears his throat.) Hmmm. One ought not to confound acceptance with approval, Ms. Rogers. We, of course, did not imagine the shamefaced acquiescence in parties that you now have, but I shall state to you with utmost candor that factions--the mortal disease of popular governments--erupted in my own administration. I brought into my Cabinet two men of unmatched brilliance and assiduousness. You perhaps have heard of Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. Quite shockingly--I will be frank--they would contest one with the other on every matter from the proper color of a good glass of port to the probable arrival of the Baltimore post rider. And, as if being president wasn’t burdensome enough, Mr. Jefferson had to go and start--with craft--a newspaper for the concerted purpose of criticizing my administration. And we already had one decent journal reporting everything that was needful for the people to know about our government. Still, it behooves me to add that Hamilton did not make it easy for any man to cross him. But I discourse too freely . . . yielding to the siren of reminiscences.

Ms. R: No, no, don’t stop. I’d like to know more about this. But let me ask you. Don’t you think that a free press is good for a democracy? Doesn’t it help the voters make up their minds?

G.W.: My dear young woman, you will excuse me, you sound like Mr. Jefferson. In a well-run government--monarchical or republican--political discussion is best confined to public officials and their circle of friends, men known for their discretion and decorum. Voters need not trouble themselves to “make up their minds.” Their representatives will do it for them. It is the duty and responsibility of voters to discern which of the respectable men appearing on their ballot is most likely to make up his mind for the good of all.

Ms. R: But voters have interests. They want their representatives to pass certain laws or have their president defend positions they share.

G.W.: “Interests,” as you so boldly put it, Ms. R, are next only to factions the deepest sappers of good government. We pursue our interests in our private dealings. The public interest is the common good, and we must look to the wise, the rich and the able to seek it for the whole.

Ms. R: But what about the average voter, the little guy or the ordinary woman? What about them?

G.W.: Government is the highest achievement of civilized nations; it belongs to those of the noblest attainments to serve the people in high office. Our first object must be to secure for government men of uncontested merit and probity. Voters--those men duly enfranchised by their residence and property--should confine themselves to choosing among the stars in their local firmament. Leave it to them to look after the whole. And, as for women, surely the fairest of our sexes should be spared the tumult of politics.

Ms. R: I know that women didn’t have the vote then, nor for the next 100 and more years. But I’d really like to know--does this mean that your wife, the first first lady, stayed out of politics?

G.W.: A wife is an inestimable boon to a man in public life. Every Tuesday, my wife, Martha, and I held receptions at which the gentlemen of my administration and their ladies came and circulated among their peers in New York and Philadelphia. In presiding at these occasions, Mrs. Washington did greater service than a dozen congressmen--perhaps two dozen if they were of the Jeffersonian persuasion. In truth, by being protected from politics itself, if I may so put it, the wives of public figures are a political treasure beyond measure. That is a most ingenious thought. (He pauses.) That pleases me. I have expressed a truth that others might profit from.

Ms. R: Mr. President, if I remember my history correctly, even before you died--if you don’t mind my mentioning it--there were already raucous political debates, even allegations of a pretty personal nature published about your Alexander Hamilton.

G.W.: May you blush to bring up such topics. I contemplate with abhorrence the bruiting about of the details of the private lives of honorable men. It is a pandering to the basest instincts in the human breast. Can a society long endure with such salacious fare set before the voters for its quadrennial public meal?

Ms. R: Well, sir, you did reflect that the United States had kept going even after factions turned into real parties.

G.W.: Corruption is often a disease of slow growth, causing a feebleness in its victim that can deceive the unwary into mistaking it for health so normal does it appear with time. To be sanguine in the face of the true signs of decadence is to court disaster.

Ms. R: It’s that bad?

G.W.: Surely you read your own papers. What is this mudslinging like vulgar jockeys at a village fair! Can the greatest trust a people has to confide in one of its own survive when the talk is of trivia, the diction taken from the gutter and the “character” of the candidates (which should be taken for granted) dangled before the public like a bought bauble?

Ms. R: Well, television is pretty expensive. And getting out sound bites is what a campaign is all about.

G.W.: Perhaps my countrymen should abjure nibbling at crumbs from gossip-mongers and recover their taste for more substantial offerings. It perhaps has not escaped your notice that what you call your “campaign” is like the interminable forced marches of a real campaign. It would appear to require nightly “sound bites” to keep the files in line. But surely there is more wholesome fare than what your candidates are serving up.

Ms. R: You don’t think character should be an issue?

G.W.: If a gentleman’s character becomes an issue, an honorable man would decline to embarrass his neighbors by soliciting their vote.

Ms. R: That would have a terrible effect on politics. It might just mean the end of our elections. Unless we could get more women to run.

G.W.: You jest, by jove, you surely jest.

Ms. R: Oh, no, we think it quite possible that a woman might be elected president in the next century.

G.W.: It is true that the most extreme measures must sometimes be taken when a disease is far advanced. Such a painful remedy should not be discarded impetuously. It is well known that true virtue is reserved to women, although in truth they lack ardor and strength. Hmmm. I’ll have to talk to Martha about this.