Correcting the Record on Andrew Jackson

There are a lot of problems with these two paragraphs. Let’s take each in turn.

Regarding Jackson’s removal of the Native Americans, Remini’s characterization should not be taken as a consensus view, as it has been disputed by scholars like Anthony Wallace and Daniel Walker Howe. Moreover, it is not fair to equate Jackson’s policy toward the Native Americans with that of his predecessors, especially Quincy Adams. Granted, there was a broad view that it would be amenable for the Native Americans to move to the west, but Jackson forced the issue whereas others did not. In fact, Quincy Adams sent a federal attorney to warn Georgia against making moves against the territory of the Creek nation, which was protected by a treaty with the federal government. Jackson, on the other hand, told the Native American tribes that he was powerless to stop the states from breaking the treaties.

Jackson’s professed impotence stands in notable contrast to his fight over the South Carolina nullifiers, during which warned, “that if a single drop of blood shall be shed there in opposition to the laws of the United States, I will hang the first man I can lay my hand on engaged in such treasonable conduct, upon the first tree I can reach.” Here, he was all power and righteous fury. The difference between the two approaches is partially reducible to the fact that, in moving against the Native Americans, the southern states were accomplishing a policy objective that Jackson favored, while the South Carolina nullifiers were not.

And by the way, it is none other than Robert Remini who notes Jackson’s professed inability to enforce the federal government’s treaty obligations to the Chickasaw nation. Meanwhile, Daniel Feller points out that Georgia circumvented the Supreme Court’s ruling of protection for the Cherokees in Worcester v. Georgia “with Jackson’s connivance.” It should be added as well Jackson’s Native American policy was extremely controversial in its day, and so this is not about judging those who lived long ago by present-day mores.

What about Jackson and the Second Bank? To be clear, the Second Bank had a spotty history. Terribly mismanaged under its first president, William Jones, it had become a clearinghouse for corruption and incompetence. Its bad behavior probably facilitated the Panic of 1819, and the credit contraction that it implemented as a consequence gravely damaged the reputation of the institution. But under the management of Nicholas Biddle, it made a remarkable turnaround. Biddle’s Second Bank was probably the most advanced financial institution in the world up to that point in time. Biddle secured a relatively uniform currency, facilitated domestic and international exchange, expanded lending to the south and west, and brought the wildcat state banks into respectability. So broadly popular was the Second Bank that it was overwhelmingly approved for a recharter in 1832, with testimonials pouring in from all across the country to Congress about the benefits it provided. Biddle, it must be admitted, was known to grease a few palms—including prominent congressmen like Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, and a few well-placed newspapermen—but his Second Bank was hardly the bugaboo Jackson made it out to be in his veto message.

Moreover, one of the main opponents of the Second Bank was none other than Wall Street itself. New York City by this point was well on its way to becoming the overwhelming commercial and financial center of the country, yet the Second Bank was located in Philadelphia, and its stock owned primarily by Philadelphians. New York City banks did not appreciate having their operations regulated by a bunch of outsiders. Moreover, because the Second Bank housed federal tax revenues, the extensive collections from the Port of New York were not actually controlled by New York bankers. The Empire State provided crucial votes against the renewal of the Second Bank, and operating behind the scenes were well-connected insiders like Thomas Olcott of the Farmers & Mechanics Bank of Albany. That bank already controlled state tax revenue, and Olcott and others owned a major stake in several Wall Street firms. With the Second Bank out of the way, they stood a chance of dominating the nation’s financial system.

This is not to excuse any of the Second Bank’s bad behaviors. It was a disgrace under Jones. Moreover, Biddle—in response to Jackson’s removal of federal funds from the institution—instituted an aggressive credit contraction for political purposes that looks awful in historical retrospect. The point of this discussion, rather is twofold: Webb is wrong to offer such a Manichean view of the Second Bank; and on balance under Biddle it was a benevolent institution that helped distribute credit responsibly to the farthest quarters of the nation, and in so doing it advanced the general welfare. As Webb writes, “Far too many of our most important discussions are being debated emotionally, without full regard for historical facts.” Indeed, but plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose, for Jackson’s veto message was mostly an emotional appeal without full regard for the facts. Historian Bray Hammond—whose Banks and Politics in America remains a genre-defining classic—hit the nail on the head when he called Jackson’s veto message “an unctuous mixture of agrarianism and laissez faire.”

Jackson deserves praise for many actions he took—for instance his stand against the South Carolina nullifiers. But his veto of the Second Bank was hotly disputed in its day, and in historical perspective is difficult to justify at all. Same for his treatment of the Native Americans. Controversial in its day, it has not worn well with age. A sober and even-handed assessment of the Jacksonian period should list both of these as severe knocks against his reputation.

Jay Cost is a staff writer at The Weekly Standard and the author of A Republic No More: Big Government and the Rise of American Political Corruption.