Tie in a living tether
the prince and priest and thrall,
bind all our lives together,
smite us and save us all;
in ire and exultation
aflame with faith, and free,
lift up a living nation,
a single sword to thee.—G.K. Chesterton, “O God of Earth and Altar.”
AS WE start the 250th anniversary of the American Revolution, that first of our civil wars which culminated in independence and eventually the draughting of our constitution, many will be re-examining these events for clues to their contemporary meaning and relevance. From now until 2039, we may expect these efforts; given the poor state of historical knowledge to-day, and one wonders how much of value shall emerge.
Two related phrases that both the Founding Fathers and modern Constitutional scholars enjoy tossing around are “Checks and Balances,” and “Separation of Powers.” Having their origins in the 18th century Enlightenment, the phrases are integral to understanding our Constitution. It must be understood that on the one hand they reflect that era’s fears regarding government. But paradoxically they also reflect an abiding reality which that the men of that time did no invent, but merely described.
Central to these notions as commonly received is that government is inherently evil — “a useful servant but a fearful master,” in the words of George Washington. As such, while it cannot be trusted — although the majority of people can be trusted to make the right electoral decisions — the two items are needed. “Check and Balances” refer to the structure of government being made up of contending elements which shall act naturally to prevent any one element of government from becoming more powerful than the others. “Separation of Powers” in the American context means the organisation of governance into three parts: executive (president and cabinet); legislative (congress); and judicial (the supreme court). Related to these are the Sovereignty of each of the 50 United States — each of whose government boast the same two traits.
The originators of these labels held that they were a way of safeguarding the future against what they regarded as “Medieval tyranny.” But I shall assert here that in fact — although the terms were not used — the realities existed during the ages of Faith and were if anything more perfectly realised then than now.
As a start, our Medieval ancestors did not think of government as a necessary evil “instituted among men,” but rather, at its best, as a Divine gift. To understand this attitude, we have to understand some important definitions and concepts. “Legitimacy” is the right to exercise authority; “Authority” is the right to dictate how Power should be used; “Power” is the ability to make things happen. “The Common Good” is what it sounds like — and is the end toward which the first three are oriented. The Medievals, following St. Thomas Aquinas and Aristotle, identified three kinds of good government: Monarchy — rule by one man; Aristocracy — rule by a select group; what they called “polity” — which meant rule by the majority of stakeholders: landowners, veterans, and the like. Each of these had a sort of evil shadow: Tyranny; Oligarchy; and Democracy, or mob rule. What distinguished good from evil in this case was whether the three ruled for the Common Good or out of self-interest. For the people we are looking at, the best form of government was one which combined Monarchy, Aristocracy, and Polity — and in those distinctions we begin to see what our later theorists called “Checks and Balances.”
In those days, Power was very diffuse across the Christian countries: the Monarch had some, the nobility and gentry had some, the Church — in its multiplex dioceses, abbeys, and religious orders, as well as the Papacy and the four other Patriarchates — had some; so too did the universities, trade and craft guilds, cities and towns, and the landowning peasantry and serfs. To raise money or men beyond what his own estates offered for extraordinary reasons, the Medieval ruler had to call these diverse interests together in what were called the Estates of the Realm, which were the ancestors of the European Parliaments of to-day in some sense.
To try to keep this often-contentious universe of powers in some kind of harmony, the Emperor and the Kings — not having a even a majority of power — had the exercise of Authority. A good Monarch was like an orchestra leader; under a bad Monarch you had not despotism but anarchy. This Authority came from God via the Church (which also partook of it) as symbolised by the Coronation rites. If the Monarch did not have the Power to restrain an erring but powerful nobleman or city, he could exercise his authority by withdrawing the protection of the law from them, and declaring them to be outlawed — thus subject to having their properties seized by whoever could. To be the rightful recipient of this power, however, the prospective Monarch would have to be legitimate — most often this meatn by bloodline, but it could also be by other means. The Church reserved the right, whichever of these were used, to judge the ruler’s legitimacy.
Now, neither Legitimacy, Authority, nor Power were bestowed upon their recipients for their own sakes, but for the Common Good — this is a very misunderstood to-day; for many of the few political theorists who talk about it, it means simply the material welfare of even just the pleasure of the largest possible number. But for the Medievals, it meant the Salvation of Souls. Now while this was and is most obviously the direct interest of the Church, who incorporates the Faithful into Christ via her Sacraments, it was also the interest of the State as represented by the Monarchs in an indirect but no less important fashion. One way was to materially support the Church in her Salvific mission; another was to give her the freedom to direct the tenor of law and society in general. But a third key way was to create conditions — in terms of security and well-being — conducive to allowing the individual to pursue his own Salvation, rather than having to worry about mere survival.
Beginning n the 1300s — perhaps with the Great Schism — this “Medieval Synthesis” as it was called began to break down. The gradual emergence of a money economy and a number of other factors gave rise to the birth of the Modern State, whose growth was stimulated by the Protestant Revolt which in both Protestant and Catholic Europe (though less in the latter) reduced the power of the Church, and by the rise of what they called “Absolutism.” Then the State apparatus and its operators realised that they did not need the Monarchs, and the result was the Age of Revolution, which has put us where we are.
The Counter-Revolutionary theorists and activists who fought against the Modern State in Europe and the Americas recognised the growth of Absolutism as one of the major factors leading to the revolutions. So it was that they attempted to create a body of doctrine which representing an application of the Medieval synthesis which may be reduced to five major points: Altar; Throne; Local liberties, or what we would call “Subsidiarity”; class cooperation, which we would call “Solidarity”; and Christendom, the Reichsidee, or the idea of a loose confederation of all states based upon the other four principles.
They failed, of course, and so across the planet we live under a regime that our forebears of whatever era would find interesting if not pleasant. It is in fact the opposite of the Medieval synthesis. Power is concentrated in the hands of a few — as demonstrated by the COVID lockdowns. Authority is diffuse — allegedly in the universal franchise of the sovereign people (none of whom can actually select the choices they are presented with, whose policies are reduced to maintaining themselves in power). Legitimacy is supposedly granted by the democratic process itself — although judiciaries trump legislatures, and referenda can held repeatedly until the correct answer is given, at which point the results become sacred law. The “Common Good” — however defined — is considered a radical idea.
So it is that modern governance has become something of which neither Aristotle nor St. Thomas ever dreamt: a mixed government partaking of the three worst forms: tyranny, oligarchy, and mob rule. There are neither checks nor balances to it in any meaningful sense, nor any real separation of powers, since all are exercised to facilitate infanticide, perversion, and assisted self-murder. Foreign policy is primarily a way of forcing retrograde societies to accept these things, while enriching the oligarchs themselves.
So where does all of this leave us during the Semiquincentennial of Independence? We should be aware that so far from being a chain in some imaginary link of liberty, the events of that time — though not without some elements of goodwill — ultimately were spoiled by the inability of the Founding Fathers and their successors to see whence came all that they sought in good governance: the Catholic Faith. This makes attempting evangelise our own country evermore a patriotic duty — and never more than now in this anniversary year.
