America Urgently Needs Civic Renewal
It says something about our times that the trauma of the assault on the Capitol in Washington, D. C. is already scabbing over. But the events of January 6 really did jar Americans, despite the obviously intensifying climate of paranoia, hatred, and violence leading up to it. The physical violation of the building was bad, but the symbolic punch was far worse, indicating, as it did, that we have managed to nurture, within our culture, a serious contempt for key institutions of our government.
Yet distressing as that day was, we have a responsibility to see the event as clearly as possible and to respond accordingly. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, as the saying goes, but let us make use of January 6 as best we can.
In this spirit, it is worth noting a silver lining or two from that stormy day. One is the visceral reaction against the assault. Many Americans, I expect, took comfort in the televised Senate proceedings, in which all who spoke made clear how unacceptable the mob action was and did so in clarion terms. Effectively universal, the rebukes from the right have been every bit as angry as those from the left. So let’s count our blessings: it was heartening to see the wagons circle on a bipartisan basis with nearly everyone aiming their fire in the right direction—at the mob. One might only wish that the response to this past summer’s violence had been met with similarly unified condemnation.
We should also take heart that, to the degree this was anything like a serious attempt to overturn the election, it utterly failed. The constitutional offices functioned and the institutions of government remain firmly in place, no matter what the president did or did not do. 20th century constitutional scholar C. H. McIlwaine once wrote that the test of a constitution’s strength comes “in the periods of excitement and hysteria from which we are unfortunately not immune.” For now, ours passed.
For now is not forever, though. The disaster at the Capitol is a sign of political disintegration and represents a trend that cannot continue indefinitely: this is the best lesson to take from January 6. Without a change of course and renewal in our civic life, one can only assume that more and worse breaches are in store for us.
We can start our renewal by acknowledging how badly our efforts at civic education have failed. In November of 2020, before the Capitol attack, Danielle Allen of Harvard published an op-ed in the Washington Post in which she notes that for every $50 spent on STEM education in our schools we spend $.05 on civics. And, as she adds, you get what you pay for in this as you do elsewhere. Our young are not being prepared for the demands of citizenship under a constitutional system that depends on the qualities of its citizens. Nor, crucially, are we fostering a culture that is compatible with that system
Improvements in civic education are thus necessary—necessary, but not sufficient. Civic renewal will depend not only on a better informed citizenry, but on a renewed sense on the part of the people—at least some critical mass of them—that their government serves and protects their interests and gives them a fair shake in doing so.
But it will be extremely difficult to accomplish this with a citizenry as divided as our own. How does one reach that critical mass when citizens are at daggers drawn, literally in some cases, and disagree so profoundly on many political essentials?
The difficulty here was seen clearly, by one of the great scholars of recent decades, the legal historian Harold Berman. In a speech delivered at the Boston College School of Law in 1985, Berman spoke about the changes in the teaching of the law over the years, which in turn reflected changes in our sense of the whole society. His overriding concern was the loss of a shared sense of order that transcended the nuts and bolts practice of the law, including constitutional law. “The traditional Western beliefs in the integrity of the law, its ongoingness, its religious roots, its transcendent qualities, are disappearing not only from the minds of law teachers and law students, but also from the consciousness of the vast majority of the citizens, the people as a whole . . .”
Though he was devout himself, Berman understood that in the United States the legal and constitutional order had never been tied directly to any specific religion. Still, Berman also understood that American law did depend on a shared sense of transcendent order. In this regard, we might point here to what was once called The American Way, an ethos that embraced liberty, fairness, and equality. It is a sign of our times that this term now sounds so quaint, even comical. But not too long ago it was embraced, imperfectly, by a broad public and with a real measure of respect.
As our attachment to that old order decayed, Berman noted that the teaching of law grew ever more focused on practical and procedural matters, severed from any deeper “spirit” of the laws. And as that spirit lost its place, mere power filled the vacuum. When political opponents share no sense of obligation to values that transcend particular interests, what else could we expect?
While Berman was concerned about our loss of order thirty-five years ago, our situation has obviously worsened since then. Matters are clearly critical when self-proclaimed patriots storm the halls of Congress and men wearing animal skins and antlers preside, however briefly, in the well of the Senate. Perhaps in time we can rebuild a shared culture and some sense of a common destiny among the broad American public. In the meantime, we need to learn how to do without and what that means for the demands we make on our government and on our fellow citizens.
Ed Hagenstein is the author of "The Language of Liberty: A Citizen’s Vocabulary" (Rootstock, 2020), which is available now.
