Dr. Adams is Academic Dean of Roberts Wesleyan College. This article is from his address before the Sons of the American Revolution, Rochester, New York, November 11, 1967.
Man in his very nature has need of a major premise — a philosophical starting point or Prime Mover, as it were, to give reason for his being, direction and order to his thinking, and initiative and impetus to his actions. With the Christian, this basic assumption stems from the belief that God, by Divine fiat, created man as a moral, rational being with freedom of choice, and that exercise of will and choice in both the moral and physical frames of reference is an awesome but unavoidable fact of existence.
Man’s choice to partake of the “forbidden fruit” provided him with the promised knowledge of good and evil, but along with it came an incalculable complication of his circumstances. Nature became a challenge to his physical existence. Other people constituted to him a confused complex of variant relationships that ranged from love on one hand to virulent hatred on the other. God faded from his consciousness, and with that loss went also the meaning of man’s struggle. Man was thus lost in the only sense in which he could be really lost, and the need was therefore critical for a major premise which promulgates for man a supreme purpose for life, a purpose which justifies the physical hardship, the social conflicts, the spiritual struggle, and the disappointments with which life is filled. Only such a premise delivers life from the insanity it sometimes appears to be — struggle without hope, achievement without happiness, victory without exaltation, death without resurrection.
Man, himself, throughout the concourse of his history has given ample evidence of his longing and need for an all-embracing purpose. He knows so little that is perfect, yet he always looks for perfection — a seminal response which derives from the moral image in which he was originally created and the perfection of the environment in which he found himself. Though corrupt by his own choice, he still yearns for the ideal, like some earthling wandering in a cosmic wasteland dreaming of the green hills of earth. Basically, he seeks a society which will fulfill his demands on nature, ameliorate his relationship with his fellow man, and provide the ultimate reason for existence. In the search, man’s thinking has led him, inevitably, into metaphysical and ontological problems, to a consideration of the first principles of all existence.
It would be presumptuous, indeed, for me to attempt a definitive statement of the major premise with its detailed ramifications, and presumption is, among college professors, a sin of great magnitude. Perhaps, however, one might conclude that within such a premise are these parts: Man is a spiritual being, created by God and endowed with the freedom and responsibility of moral choice; his purpose in living is to glorify God by exercising his reason toward those ends that his highest moral nature urges, and his task is to refine his intelligence, develop his creativity, discipline his conscience, and clothe himself in robes of righteousness.
The Moral Premise— Like a Golden Thread
Man has never been without some first principle, some major premise, sometimes consciously, more frequently unconsciously, held up before him. It runs in some form like golden thread through man’s history, and it may be noted in various efforts and forms that mark man’s societal action. The Israelites had in Jehovah God the source of law in the observance of which was life. The Greeks promulgated Natural Law as an absolute reference point for man’s excursions into lawmaking. The Romans embraced Stoicism and with it the Natural Law concept which, in the Western world, yielded place to the Divine law of Christianity. This is clearly seen in the Gelasian theory which placed absolute value on the sword of spiritual power.
All of these systems with their varied premises failed to produce the ideal society. The Hebrew system ended, oppressed by evil and corrupt kings. The Greek system, even in the Golden Age of Pericles, was marked by corruption, vice, weakness, and personal lust for power. The Roman could observe the cruelty and injustice of his state, and he suffered from tyrants who plundered the poor to lavish wealth on the idle, sensual, and effete nobility. The slight amelioration that feudalism supplied was due chiefly to the fact that there was less economic distance between master and serf — for goods were fewer, even in this paternalistic social order, and pillaged more frequently by incessant warring. Certainly, there was little understanding of nature, no mastery of production, and a very low level of social justice. Seemingly, man was destined to a perpetual slavery only thinly disguised in an embracing paternalism that left him without hope.
Christian Europe was not without hope, however, for the sixteenth century saw a rebirth of the idea that man was free, must be free. Dramatically stated first in theological terms, the fuller implications in no theological terms were soon asserted, and Europe began a long and costly march toward freedom. Costly, for human liberty has never been secured or maintained without sacrifice, and it was our own Jefferson who said, “Every so often the tree of liberty must be watered by the blood of patriots—and of tyrants.”
The American Foundation
With all of the foregoing in mind, it can be assumed that those who raised a new nation on this continent had a wealth of history on which to draw. The responses of our forefathers were partly the product of a vicarious intellectual empiricism and partly the intuitive conclusions of liberty-loving men playing it by ear. What these men gave to America and the world was the moral premise embedded in a philosophy of moral absolutes. It was shaped and nurtured in the minds and hearts of people who recognized in it the last, best hope of man. These forebears of ours were of the breed of men who count not their own lives dear unto themselves; they were prepared to die for America and for freedom. Need I remind you that it was a young man not yet twenty-two who said in a last magnificent moment of life, “I only regret that I have but one life to give to my country”?
These great men espoused a moral absolute which accepted God as creator, as ultimate Truth, and they believed man to be a moral creature, responsible to God, and capable of discharging that responsibility only through freedom of choice. It logically follows, then, that freedom is more than just another attribute. It is so essential that life without it loses significance. These Founding Fathers saw in freedom and liberty the only perfection a human society can know, for in freedom’s house the individual can shape his own perfections and follow his noblest aspirations. The exercise of freedom, then, is for man the perfecting of his humanity — not that the exercise will ever be perfect, but the continuing exercise represents a constant affirmation of the eternal principle that man can find himself only in God.
Limited Government
These men of great vision clearly understood that the only real threat to liberty and freedom is government, for men assign a sanctity to government not accorded to individuals and groups. But government is a faceless thing and can hide the predators who lurk behind its facade and exercise its function; and governments assume, quite naturally it seems, government’s right to a monopoly of physical force. Fearing government, and the natural tendency of power to beget power, these men established a constitution which attempted to assure man’s freedom by limiting the sphere of government to a workable minimum. The clear intent was to magnify the responsibility of the individual and subordinate government to its primary function of serving freedom’s cause. Even among its most ardent devotees, there was never any suggestion that this Constitution was a panacea for all the social ills to which man is heir. There was no guarantee of identical status for individuals or groups. There was no promise of material rewards. There was only the implicit assumption that freedom and liberty were their own rewards and worth any sacrifice. The Constitution promised only the system itself, but under it liberty and freedom were to be nurtured. It was Benjamin Franklin who saw the only flaw, and he stated it in simple terms when he suggested that perhaps the people might not keep what they had acquired. It was George Washington who stated in eloquent prose that liberty is guaranteed only by the eternal vigilance of those who share its vision.
These architects of nation were men of great faith — faith in the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen — faith in their vision of a vast land and great people — faith in the triumph of truth over error, of justice over injustice, of right over tyranny, of knowledge over ignorance, of reason over prejudice, and the ultimate triumph of eternal values over the temporal. Faith in such a vision together with commitment to the program for its fulfillment constituted in their thinking an irresistible force that would shake the world — and it did. In addition, it gave rise to a compelling spirit of national mission.
Eternal Vigilance
It is a truism that tragedy lurks close to the surface of all enterprises of great pith and moment. George Bernard Shaw suggested that there are two great tragedies in life. One is to not get your heart’s desire; the other is to get it. The observation is so applicable to the American scene that it arouses almost a response of sharp physical pain. America had her great dream, her grand design. History provided her with the opportunity to realize it. So she avoided the first of the tragedies that Mr. Shaw suggested. The alternate tragedy was left to be realized, for tragedy must follow the failure to understand the tremendous demand such a society places on the individual. It calls for enormous self-discipline in behalf of freedom’s pre-eminent claim; it requires a conscious articulate sensitivity to freedom’s climate; and it mandates a firm dedication to freedom’s methods and goals along with a determination to live with the results.
It is not debatable that we have had an imperfect and uneven performance in this regard. The student of American history recalls the demarché of the Federalist party into unconstitutionalism to retain power. It can hardly go unnoticed that there were those who were blind to the implications of education for a substantial segment of our society, including women. Even more compelling shortly after the centennial year of Appomattox Court House is the thought that there were those who insisted on the immediate attainment of their ends and refused to recognize longer that the Constitution provided a certain, if slow, mechanic for resolving great inequities and injustice. This impatience sent men to graves like beds and finally resulted in the slaughter of more Americans than World War I and World War II combined.
Unhappy though these examples be, we note with satisfaction that the Federalist returned to make the great right decision in 1800, and that educational opportunity has approached universality in this nation. We could even say that although the larger lessons of the so-called irrepressible conflict were lost on us, we have at times demonstrated our belief that the nature of our system cannot be defined in terms of any appeal to the doctrine that might and right are inseparable.
With liberty and freedom identified in the Constitution and accepted as the norm for human action, we demonstrated a vitality and creativity that produced achievement which first caught the attention of the world and then beckoned her disinherited millions to the “lifted lamp beside the golden door.” We enlarged individual opportunity, secured religious toleration, and established the basis for political diversity and cultural pluralism. We educated the masses, refurbished the concept of individual justice and charity, and we took over leadership of the revolution in communication, transportation, and production. Our free market led the world in the production and distribution of goods for the benefit of all classes. Somewhere along the line, too, we began to develop a distinct literature of merit and other artistic forms. Finally, and without great fanfare, we assumed world leadership in moral idealism as a natural concomitant of our commitment to principles based in the eternal verity of the moral law.
Obstacles to Be Overcome
Such have been the fruits of the American system, and such a nation or system, meeting as it did man’s age-old search for an ideal society, should fear no challenge.
Nature had been transformed into an ally; a beginning had been made toward a solution of the omnipresent problem of human relationships; and man’s right and need to know and experience God had been left unrestricted. We who received such a heritage should fear no challenge, yet we are alarmed by a challenge of so great a magnitude that we seem unable to plot its dimensions. Wisdom and intelligence, however, as well as the instinct for survival dictate that the problem must be stated, understood, and attacked.
There are those, undoubtedly, whose disquiet is solely in terms of the problem posed by nuclear physics. These people might think beyond it, but the possibility of a nuclear war produces in them a trauma that makes further rational thought on their part impossible. Those of whom this is descriptive tend to view the great ultimate catastrophe as physical death, forgetting that the great moral premise assigns little significance to the fact of mere physical existence. They would establish a new commandment which may be simply stated, “And now abideth the mind, the spirit, the body, these three, but the greatest of these is the body.” It is not to be expected that those who hold such a belief could or would give rise to any inspired resolution, for that which they treasure most is most easily subject to threats and force.
Then there are those who react to the problem in materialistic terms. These have altered the supreme moral principle to read, “Man shall live by bread alone.” The member of this group is quite likely to attach himself to any of the several simplifications which this group has institutionalized in policy: the answer to any domestic problem is governmental spending to raise everyone’s material standard of living; neutralists such as Tito will be won to our side if our gifts are large and continuous; the communist will soften his attitude toward the United States and the noncommunist world if we allow them the trade advantages of our productive system.
Again, there is a class we could call passivists, and, like some of their medieval forebears who went into monastic seclusion, they seek to escape the world of decision and action. A tendency of the members of this class is to rely on discussion, fruitless though it may be, and on a complete negation of decisive action. Discussion becomes for them not a means but an end, and failure is not failure, for nonproductive discussion guarantees the need of still further discussion. No international conference is a failure, in this light, as long as it ends without definitive commitment. There is some truth in the assertion that protracted discussion on a point at issue often results in a blurring of the thought of both parties, but it logically follows that in such a situation, the party with commitment to a principle and a concomitant course of action stands in the least danger.
Detoured by Relativism
None of those in the classes just mentioned sees the challenge to the American heritage in its true dimensions, and obviously they have little understanding of the resources necessary to meet the challenge. The basic problem is the failure of Americans to dedicate and rededicate themselves to the great moral premise — freedom under God. As dedication to that premise built the American heritage, decline from it has given rise to the problems that appear in the guise of insecurity — the fear of physical extinction, the compensation of materialism, and indecision.
The decline was initiated by the introduction of a philosophy of relativism with its inherent negation of moral absolutes. This philosophy relieves man of all responsibility; it erodes his moral standards, for morals, it says, are a product of man’s own thinking and are therefore subject to change. Further, it has no fixed reference point; rather it has a multitude of reference points, discoverable only by a process of expediency which itself becomes the criterion for judgment. Such thought canonizes Nicolo Machiavelli who baldly and boldly asserted that the end justifies the means. In such a philosophy, man is not free; he is rather a pawn of history, and he has significance only as he participates in great mass movements. In action, the philosophy is expressed in positivism which denies any supernatural standard and acclaims any law as valid if there is sufficient force in the lawgiver to enforce it. Such a philosophy does not produce Nathan Hales. It is more apt to produce those who seek the undisciplined refuge of mass anonymity and mass conformity. The end of such a system is pictured in Or-well’s 1984, in which he describes a society where Big Brother decides what is truth for the unresisting masses. Orwell doesn’t say it, but the tragedy is that under such system, life doesn’t really matter.
Improper Methods
The increasing acceptance of such a philosophy has spawned an incredible number of value standards and courses of action not consistent with our original premise and the institutionalizing of liberty. Time forbids a discussion of them, but some of the more dangerous may be listed. There are those who change or pervert the Constitution to gain the ends they desire, and the ends are presented as good ends to justify the action. It was for good reasons that the Gracchi started the process of violating the Roman constitution. The end of the process was the destruction of liberty in Rome, for each succeeding constitutional violation takes less explanation and less and less justification. Eventually the constitutional image is lost, and the term itself becomes a shibboleth.
Then, there are those who forget that material wealth is a happy by-product of our pursuit of a morally legitimate goal, and they relentlessly pursue the materialistic largess of nature as an end in itself. It is again the old story of selling the birthright for a mess of pottage. The goal of this philosophy is ever greater materialism with less and less effort. This idea seems to offer a built-in contradiction, but still the belief persists that we have invented a slot machine which pays off for everybody.
Again, there are those who pervert the definition of freedom to mean an absence of fear, of individual responsibility, of self-discipline, and they include within its context the strong presumption of egalitarian doctrines. These find the answer to all of our problems in the increase of central, bureaucratic government. Washington is their Mecca. They do not, perhaps, make a pilgrimage to Washington, but well they might, for not only is their money there, it is fast becoming a repository of the American soul. In international relations, these people have a naive faith in the United Nations, assign to it a supernatural aura, and claim for it a practical success not demonstrable in logic or actuality.
A Time for Rededication
Finally, there are those who are totally oblivious to the fact that the American forefathers, like the early Christians, were men whose vision and faith were such that they intended to turn the world upside down — and did so. We have lived in the golden heritage of their dedication to a great moral principle and the abundant life it provided. That we have grown insensitive to such a principle presages failure where they succeeded. We cannot escape the fact that the virility of communism stems from the fact that the communist is committed totally to the belief that it is necessary to change the world — and as an individual he is prepared to give himself to realize such an end. We cannot change the form or substance of the communist movement or threat. We can, however, reclaim, revive, and renew the American heritage as the eternal answer to those who would, under any guise, enslave the free spirit of man.
The innumerable paths of history are thick with the dust of decayed nations that knew the passing radiance of a glorious moment. Khrushchev and communism promised to bury the American heritage because it no longer serves history’s purposes. For me, I fear no physical threat communism can offer. I do fear the retreat from our heritage. I do not fear Khrushchev’s judgment. I fear the inexorable judgment of God’s law which has ordained man’s freedom. Should this nation so blessed by God forget His ordinance, then we have no valid claim to existence. We will have failed those who lived and died that we might be free as well as the serf of the future who will not long remember our moment of history. As Americans we can, as one has said, “spend ourselves into immortality” in freedom’s battle or we can make our way carelessly to nameless graves and be part of the dust of history’s passing parade.
