When the Constitution was penned and signed some 231 years ago, it was a conglomerate of ideas – a product of careful, pensive thoughts and principles that set a nation on its eternal course. The crafters of this Constitution were mere men, men of various persuasions, passions, and ideas, all diverse and sometimes even diametrically opposite each other. Jefferson had his inclinations toward libertarian individuality. Hamilton had his passion for strong national defense and commerce. Washington had his nearly isolationist foreign policy. Madison had his doubts about excessive democracy. Yet, through all of these differences, debates, and arguments, the Constitution was born and remains today one of the most influential documents in political thought, law, and national public policy.
How did this come to be? It’s a difficult question. In a culture as polarized as ours, where insight and productive discussion is all but lost and replaced by 30 second sound-bites that have a lot of punch but no substance, it’s hard for us to grasp the concept of statesmanship.
The leaders in political thought throughout the centuries – Socrates, Plato, Cicero, Fredrick Douglas, Henry Clay, William Blackstone, and James Madison – had a code that transcended the easy life of fleshly aggrandizement. They didn’t let their emotions and biases control their thought in a reactionary way, instead opting to critically think the matter out. They knew when it was proper to stand as if their feet were cemented to the ground but also when it was important to compromise for the greater good. They read, studied, analyzed, and came to the best conclusions, while always admitting their own mortality and keeping their minds open to better conclusions if they came along. They didn’t hold their own opinions in such high regard as to comment on every solitary issue that came their way, instead learning when it was imperative to speak and when it was equally as imperative to remain silent. Most importantly, each of these exemplars were true to their patriotic creed, choosing to see the big picture of policy and caring for their respective nations’ long-term course rather than the fleeting private interests of specific individuals or groups.
I’ve called statesmanship a lost virtue for a reason. Simply log on to Facebook or Twitter, and you’ll undoubtedly come across somebody’s post that lets us all know exactly how they feel about a certain policy that is being implemented, political candidate they do not like, or action they believe should be taken to solve an issue.
Perhaps this original material isn’t so bad – after all that’s the First Amendment in action, right? But scroll down through the comments section, and you’ll begin to see the problem. Everyone becomes a pundit. Rather than affirm the above opinion or argue the point in a pensive manner, it becomes a bloodbath of talking points, a sea of unintelligent drivel that does nothing but harm the discussion’s productivity.
Often, we rightfully praise technological innovation and the access to information it has allowed. However, most beneficial things come with a potential negative, and the negative to this easy access of information is laziness and apathy. Information is not necessarily fact or reasonable opinion, and rather than study matters out, we often find the first article that backs our opinion, cite it, and think we’ve made an intellectual case, when we’ve absolutely done nothing of the sort.
That only rejects the art of true argument, defined as “the search for truth,” and replaced it with the inadequate substitute of squabble. Debate is no longer about whose thoughts are more plausible. They’ve become about who can tear down their opponent the fastest using the latest talking point they heard on the last podcast they listened to or morning show they watched.
If we’re honest with ourselves, we all have an opinion on everything. We form opinions instantly, the very second our minds begin to process information. However, the key to statesmanship is learning when to hold those opinions and when to voice them, and, subsequently, how to package those opinions which we feel are so important they must be voiced.
In the annals of classic universally revered writings and speeches, you will not find hot-takes and buzzwords. In Plato’s Republic, Locke’s Rights of Man, and Publius’ Federalist Papers, you will not find talking points and sound clips. What you will find is ideals articulated with thoughtful language, and, when you find strong opinion, it won’t be presented in a snappy, reflexive manner. This is the virtue of statesmanship. Its foundational principles don’t allow it to be carried by the winds of popular thought, because it seeks truth with a fiery resolve, not a whimsical half-heartedness.
There’s a reason that we’ve studied statesmen like the aforementioned more carefully and with more fervor than we study the political leaders of yesteryear. Statesmen offer real solutions to the issues of the day, without the noise and nonsense. While some pundits remain true to this ideal, most don’t offer us much. Cultivating this virtue is so imperative to our character and our impact. Socrates was a simple man, not popular in his time, but his ideas shook the very foundation of Greek civilization and left an impact that lasts to this day.
It’s time to stop clamoring for relevancy and start thinking long-term. It’s time to strive for the return of statesmanship to our society.
Tim Murcek is a student at Liberty University’s Helms School of Government and president of the school’s class of 2020.
