A Depleted "Treasury of Virtue"

Any field of study designating itself with the adjective "public" or "collective" is a sitting duck for critics who celebrate diversity and conflict as the natural state of culture. "Public philosophy" is no different. Walter Lippman was first to define the concept. Realizing there would never be agreement on public philosophy's content, he limited himself to its contours, namely, "a body of positive principles and precepts which a good citizen cannot deny or ignore . . . the principles of right behavior in the good society, governed by the Western traditions of civility" (p. 5). Eric C. Sands, however, conceives public philosophy more concretely. His definition includes foundational elements—a conception of human nature, a story of how the national community comes to be what it is, a theory of the emotional bonds connecting the individual to his society, and an understanding of how the past sets before the present standards for conduct. Public philosophy also consists of political elements, which include beliefs about the relation between state and civil society, the distribution of power, and relationships with other countries. At least, this is how Sands sees the matter in his very fine, useful, and sometimes provocative American Public Philosophy and the Mystery of Lincolnism.

Sands' book raises important questions about the erosion of ideology as a prerequisite of post-Civil War reconciliation. Its title, which refers to the "mystery of Lincolnism," slightly misleads. The book pivots more on splits within the Republican and Democratic parties over Reconstruction than on Lincoln's philosophy.

Public philosophy is most visible in times of crisis, when ideology dominates interests, morality trumps reason, and emotions count more than outcomes. Yet Abraham Lincoln, ranked by most historians as America's greatest president, does not appear among those ten persons and groups who left a philosophical legacy in the U.S. These were: the Federalist founders, Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson, the Whigs, Southern Confederates, Darwinian capitalists, Progressives, New Dealers, and contemporary liberals and conservatives. Sands is right to insist that Lincoln is nothing if not a philosophical animal: he believed in equality grounded in natural law, that divine Providence explains the vicissitudes of history; he advocated the cultivation of brotherhood and unity; he believed political religion to be a support for law and the basis for social relations. Lincoln's every decision was guided by this philosophy, and to it his every action can be related.

Unlike his forebears, however, Lincoln left no successors to sustain the socially inclusive elements of his philosophy. His presidential successor, Andrew Johnson, tried, as would have Lincoln, to be lenient in restoring the rebellious states to the Union; but he was utterly hostile to the millions of newly freed slaves, unreceptive to any form of racial equality, and incapable of taming the Republican Radicals who defended both. Also, the world had changed, and the rise of industrialism and science undermined the idea that "natural laws" and "natural rights" legitimated egalitarian aspiration. Nevertheless, Sands implies that Lincoln would have avoided a Reconstruction crisis. Sands' problem is that he recognizes but fails to appreciate the full significance of Lincoln's political moderation and openness to compromise. Indeed, his account of Lincoln's philosophy overemphasizes first principles and justifies intransigence more than diplomatic agility. And so it seemed to Lincoln's opponents.

David Donald had good reason to say that Lincoln controlled his Radical enemies,¹ but their philosophy replaced his when he died. As one representative Radical put it: "Lincoln's death is a godsend to our cause" (p. 50). Most Republicans, like Lincoln, believed in affording freedmen basic protections and a guarantee against reenslavement; otherwise, they expected former slaves to abide by the laws of their respective states. The Republican Radicals' program, however, extended beyond emancipation. They wanted to put the Declaration of Independence's equality assertion into practice by extending to freed slaves citizenship and voting rights. They rejected Lincoln's theory of the war—that individuals, not states, had seceded—and they wanted to...