Civil wars happen not when people disagree about what their country should be doing but when they disagree about who has the right to determine it. Strongly held and mutually incompatible views are a precondition for a breakdown, but in a law-based state, they can be contained.
In 17th-century England, there were bitter divisions about tax, religion, and the power of the crown. But what triggered conflict was the question of who had the authority to command the militia.
In Spain, there were two political tribes throughout the early 20th century — one monarchist, unionist, and Catholic, and the other radical, secessionist, and anti-clerical. But it took the disputed election of 1936 to turn arguments into artillery.
The United States may not slide into full-scale civil war in 2020. But look at the unrest in its cities. Listen to the way each presidential candidate accuses the other of stoking violence. Can you doubt that in the event of a knife’s edge election there would be more disorder? Can you rule out the possibility that both men would claim victory and start appointing rival Cabinets? Might different states recognize different administrations?
These things are not yet likely, but neither are they any longer unthinkable. If today’s opinion polls were confirmed in November and Joe Biden won by 8 points, most Republicans would grumpily accept the outcome. But suppose that one candidate wins the popular vote while the other scrapes out a narrow Electoral College victory. Suppose there are allegations of massive mail-in voting fraud or some other equivalent to Florida’s hanging chads. Do you think either candidate would accept arbitration in the way that Al Gore eventually did?
“I say to President-elect Bush that what remains of partisan rancor must now be put aside, and may God bless his stewardship of this country,” the vice president said in a model concession speech. “Thanks, Al!” declared the placards of the young Republicans who had been picketing his house.
Can you imagine either Trump or Biden talking that way? The former would have us believe that the Democrats cannot win except through fraud. The latter suggests that if we don’t vote for him, the looters will get even angrier: “Does anyone believe there will be less violence in America if Donald Trump is reelected?”
Even if the two candidates were prepared to put country before party, would their supporters let them? According to an NBC poll, 55% of voters now don’t believe that the election will be fair.
On the eve of the Spanish Civil War, the leftist prime minister, Santiago Casares Quiroga, telephoned Emilio Mola, the conservative leader, to plead for compromise. “You have your followers, and I mine,” the Cuban-born general responded coldly. “If you and I were to reach a deal, we should both be betraying our men.”
There have been disputed elections before. In 1800, Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr tied in the Electoral College and then tied in Congress. As fans of the eponymous musical will know, Alexander Hamilton broke the deadlock by convincing a Federalist congressman to back Jefferson. In 1876, three states returned competing sets of electors pledged to rival candidates. The Republican, Rutherford B. Hayes, was eventually declared president — and in return, Republicans conceded the central demand of the Democrats, pulling federal troops out of the South.
In contrast, following the 1860 election, there was no goodwill, no readiness to compromise. We know how that ended.
In the 20th century, there was more consensus. Americans pulled together in the face of foreign aggression — first from Germany, then Japan, then the USSR. The years after World War II were unusually homogenous. A higher proportion of the citizenry was native-born than in any other era, and everyone grew up watching the same three television networks.
Without such cultural unity, radical decentralization may be the best option. If the powers of the federal government, particularly the executive branch, were pared back, there would be less to fall out over. If the Supreme Court was not forever exceeding its powers, the views of its members would matter less. No one would care where a president stood on gun rights or abortion because those issues would be dealt with in the 50 states. Mississippians, Mainers, and Marylanders would not need to worry about each other’s views.
Such decentralization is unlikely, alas, precisely because people like foisting their views on others. The reforms needed to return to the loose federalism that the Founding Fathers wanted, repealing the 16th and 17th amendments, for example (ending federal income tax and letting state legislators choose senators), are probably not practical.
Which leaves us in the unhappy position of needing to hope that, one way or the other, the election result is overwhelming.
