Donald Trump claims to be “the greatest president in the history of our country,” better than Lincoln or Washington, and Republicans seem to agree. And yet, one of the most important foundational texts in U.S. history, written by one of those “lesser presidents,” warned about figures like Trump and the danger they pose to the United States.
George Washington’s Farewell Address is largely forgotten today, as its most emphatic caution — to avoid foreign entanglements — seemed increasingly outmoded as the United States became a global power. But Americans once considered it part of an exclusive trio of sacred documents, along with the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.
And the forgotten portions of that text fretted over precisely the things that got Trump impeached and that threaten American democracy today — national divisiveness, hyper-partisanship, dishonesty in public discourse, the rise of “cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men,” and foreign intrigue and corruption.
As the chair of the Constitutional Convention and first U.S. president, Washington presided over the creation of the American political system, lending the nascent nation his dignity and virtue, his authority and sagacity. Today we celebrate core institutions but often take them for granted, assuming they will preserve our democracy. But as Washington shaped them, he understood their fragility. The endurance of the republic was no sure thing then, and it remains uncertain today — something the Senate should remember as it hears the impeachment trial.
Washington famously retired at the end of his second term in 1797, setting a presidential precedent and affirming an American principle of peaceful, democratic succession of power. His Farewell Address was a parting gift of his wisdom to the nation, “published” in the 18th century sense of the word — that is, made public — in this case not delivered orally but disseminated more broadly in print. It first appeared in Claypoole’s American Daily Advertiser, and virtually every other newspaper in the country quickly reprinted it. Like other foundational documents, it was persistently reissued in pamphlet editions and faithfully included in the appendixes of schoolchildren’s history and civics textbooks through the first half of the 20th century.
Rereading it, we encounter Washington the unifier, stressing union over division — whether grounded in geography, ethnicity or political faction. Most presciently, he foresaw and condemned dishonesty in public discourse, especially deceit broadcast in partisan fashion: “You cannot shield yourselves too much against the jealousies and heartburnings which spring from these misrepresentations; they tend to render alien to each other those who ought to be bound together by fraternal affection.” The nascent partisanship, already evident during Washington’s presidency as the first parties formed, scared him, because parties were “likely … to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government.”
Such factionalism also opened “the door to foreign influence and corruption.”
The dangers of partisanship were clear: not only could “the policy and the will of one country” become “subjected to the policy and will of another,” but it could also produce tyranny, as “sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction … turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty.”
At the time, Washington most feared that Britain or France could compromise the independence of the new United States. During his own administration, the United States attempted to navigate a neutral path between these two great powers, fearing the damage entanglement in their epic rivalry might cause. Neutrality would save American lives, promote national economic development, stave off interference in American domestic politics and avoid dependency in its foreign affairs.
Today the political geography has shifted, and the world little resembles Washington’s America. But the first president’s advice still reverberates, especially a warning that “a passionate attachment of one nation for another produces a variety of evils.” Among them, “it gives to ambitious, corrupted, or deluded citizens … facility to betray or sacrifice the interests of their own country, without odium, sometimes even with popularity; gilding … the base or foolish compliances of ambition, corruption, or infatuation.”
After Russian interference in the 2016 election, and the U.S. intelligence community’s dire warnings of continued nefarious activity, not to mention the dealings with Ukraine that produced the impeachment trial beginning this week, Washington’s admonition acquires heightened meaning. Trump has praised dictators and autocrats, including Russia’s Vladimir Putin. We don’t know the full scope of this puzzling connection, but one thing is clear: A substantial and ever-increasing body of evidence suggests that Trump’s attachment to his own political interest in reelection led him to betray the interests of America’s beleaguered ally and Russia’s foe, Ukraine. Even more consequentially, the House has charged him with abuse of power for sacrificing American interests in the process.
Washington’s counsel in 1796 anticipates the circumstances we face today, even the surprising reality that Trump’s transgressions have occurred in plain sight, “without odium, sometimes even with popularity” — the same popularity that has so bound his fellow Republicans to Trump, leading to a series of partisan votes on amendments Tuesday and early Wednesday.
Washington envisioned a version of the topsy-turvy political world that we now inhabit, in which “Real patriots” who resisted “the intrigues” of someone like Trump became “suspected and odious,” while his “tools and dupes usurp the applause and confidence of the people, to surrender their interests.” Rep. Justin Amash (I-Mich.), for example, became one such patriot last May, as the first Republican member of Congress to call for Trump’s impeachment. Resisting pressure from his party, taking seriously his oath to uphold the Constitution and independently assessing the case compiled by Mueller, Amash concluded that the president’s “careless, abusive, corrupt, or otherwise dishonorable conduct” merited impeachment. Amash’s courageous stand against Trump and his minions produced a barrage of demeaning tweets from Trump, calling Amash “a total lightweight” and publicity-seeking “loser.” Amash’s patriotism found little refuge in the Republican Party, forcing him to become an independent in July 2019.
In Washington’s day, a savagely vituperative, partisan press was the medium of false defamation or acclaim. Now it occurs not merely in print but via Twitter, Facebook, talk radio and Fox News. Without envisioning these new media, Washington foresaw the consequences of partisanship warping politics. He foresaw Republicans almost entirely aligning behind Trump, smearing those civil servants with records of exemplary service who have bravely testified at great personal risk. If anything our instantaneous media environment has simply exacerbated and accelerated every worry that Washington foresaw plaguing the United States should it become wracked with partisanship and faced with a president like Trump.
Trump’s impeachment trial in the Senate will be another test to see whether we are capable of democracy, willing to uphold the Constitution and rule of law and able to put country above personal or partisan gain, as Washington would have hoped. The contest pits “real patriots” against “tools and dupes.” Trump is the would-be tyrant Washington warned us about, and Trump’s machinations — his solicitation of damaging information to smear a political opponent, allegedly extorted from a foreign ally by illegally withholding nearly $400 million in aid — are modern versions of the foreign and domestic intrigues that Washington anticipated and feared.
As he gracefully retired, Washington hoped his Farewell Address might “be productive of some partial benefit, some occasional good.” He suffered no illusions about his words’ enduring power — that they would “make the strong and lasting impression I could wish.” But today, as we lean on the endangered institutions that Washington helped construct, we might remember his overlooked admonitions — “to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn against the mischiefs of foreign intrigue, to guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism.”